⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The drive to the restaurant had been longer than necessary, but Junho hadn't minded. He stole glances at Mirae the whole way, watching how the city lights painted shifting shadows on her face, and how she leaned her head against the window like she was willing herself to disappear. He'd told her it was his favourite place—and it was—but truthfully, it was also far enough away to give him time. Time to be near her and pretend that tonight wasn't teetering on the edge of collapse. Time to make this last.

Now, they sat tucked into a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. The walls were an unflattering shade of yellow, the table was slightly sticky, and the plastic menus were cracked, stained by the fingerprints of countless patrons. Mirae wrinkled her nose faintly when she sat down, like she wasn't sure whether to be amused or horrified.

Junho smiled anyway, trying to be more cheerful than he felt. "Order whatever you like. It's all good here."

Mirae gave her menu a perfunctory glance, then looked at him. "I'll get whatever you're getting."

"Didn't think you'd be the type to let someone make decisions for you."

She scowled. "It's your favourite place, isn't it, so you'd know it best."

Fair enough.

Junho flagged down a waitress and placed their order—one spicy seafood jjampong, two black bean noodles, and a plate of dumplings. Mirae said nothing, just stared at the little metal teapot in front of her like it was personally offensive.

When the waitress left, Junho turned back to her, only to find her already watching him. Their eyes locked, and they stared at each other for a long stretch of seconds, the sounds of clinking plates and sizzling pans around them fading into background noise.

Junho opened his mouth. 

"No questions about the..." Mirae lowered her voice and glanced around, "...the island. That's the only condition I gave when I agreed to this. Whatever this is."

Junho could see the edge of vulnerability beneath her harsh tone and the way her fingers tapped nervously against the table, like her guard was already fraying.

He exhaled slowly, nodding. "Okay. No questions." He scanned her face for an opening, anything to melt the walls she had built back up. "So... lab work, huh? How's that going?"

"Fine."

Junho bit back a sigh and nodded. "And, uh, what exactly do you do?"

"Lab work."

"That's... vague."

Mirae finally looked up with narrowed eyes. "How did you even know where to find me?"

He gave her a lazy smile. "I thought we weren't talking about island stuff."

"We're not," she snapped. 

Junho raised both hands, conceding. "Okay, okay. I may have told your assistant I was an old friend."

"You lied."

"It's not technically a lie. I'd say we're old friends, wouldn't you?"

Her expression didn't shift, still etched with an unimpressed look that said she wasn't letting him off easy. "So you stalked me," she accused.

"It wasn't hard. You gave your full name and educational background when you gave that class presentation, which, by the way, was very fascinating. Great PowerPoint."

The space between Mirae's brows creased. "That was over a year ago."

"I remember details. Comes with the job."

"Creepy."

"Resourceful," Junho corrected. "I always remember the important things." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I read your papers, by the way."

Mirae stilled, surprise etched onto her face. "You read my what?"

"Your papers. Stuff you wrote. Journals in which you were listed as a contributor. I had a lot of time to kill, and I figured it'd help me find you."

"Great, so more stalker behaviour?"

"No, just a dedicated fan."

"Well, you must've been utterly bored." 

"Now, I'm offended," Junho snickered, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "I'll have you know, I now have a newfound appreciation for the deep sea. Like, did you know there's a jellyfish that can reverse its aging process? Like it hits a mid-life crisis and just rewinds."

"The Turritopsis dohrnii, also known as the immortal jellyfish," she said automatically. "And it's done in response to physical damage or harsh environmental factors."  Then she blinked, as if realizing something. "Wait, you really read it?"

"Cover to cover," he nodded. "I also liked your piece on vampire squid. That was wild."

At that, the corners of Mirae's lips twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was the closest thing to warmth he'd seen all evening. She looked away instantly to hide it. 

"You remember the vampire squid?" she asked incredulously. 

Junho leaned forward, lowering his voice mock-confidentially. "How could I forget something called Vampyroteuthis infernalis? Literal translation: vampire squid from hell. The name alone is enough to give anyone nightmares."

Mirae huffed a reluctant laugh. "It's not even a real squid. It's a different order."

"Oh, now you're invested? Look at that, two minutes ago I was getting one-word answers, and now you're about to go on a marine taxonomy rant. All I had to do was mention hell-squid."

"You're an idiot."

"An idiot who finally has your attention," Junho said with a wink.

Mirae rolled her eyes again, but this time, it was laced with faint amusement rather than exasperation. She sipped her barley tea, and though she tried to keep her expression neutral, he saw the faint curl of her lips as she shook her head like she couldn't believe she was humouring him.

The waitress came by then with a tray balanced expertly on her arm, setting down their order with a smile. The rich scent of chilli oil, soy sauce, and garlic filled the booth like a promise. Mirae didn't thank her, but Junho did, with a polite nod.

He ladled some jjampong into her bowl, a gentlemanly gesture that earned him no gratitude. He noticed the slight pinch of her mouth as she regarded the red-tinged broth, the mix of mussels, shrimp, and squid poking out like little sea monsters. At first, he chalked it up to disdain for his company, but when she continued to poke at her food without eating it, realization crept in, and he sighed pointedly.

Mirae frowned at him. "What?"

"You don't like it."

She feigned ignorance. "Like what?"

"The food." He nodded at her barely touched bowl. "You don't like the jjampong."

She shrugged in that evasive way of hers. "You recommended it, so I figured it would be polite to at least try."

Junho chuckled, equal parts fond and exasperated. "You care about being polite now?"

That earned him a sharp look, a flash of hurt crossing her face, before she schooled it into indifference. "Right, because I'm so rude and uncouth normally."

His smile fell, and he shook his head quickly. "That's not what I meant. I meant...you don't have to act a certain way tonight. You don't have to pretend to like things for my sake. Just act how you usually do."

"And how would you know what I'm usually like?"

"You're right. I don't." He paused, then added, "But I'd like to."

She didn't know what to say to that, and he used the silence to nudge the black bean noodles closer to her, gesturing to the soybean sprout side dish. "Now those, I know you will like."

Mirae bristled. "You know nothing."

"No, but I think I'm learning." He said it with an odd reverence. "By the way, a marine biologist who doesn't enjoy seafood. Isn't that some kind of sacrilege? What is this, a moral thing? You study sea creatures, so now you can't eat them?"

"It's a texture thing." Mirae made a sour face. "I don't like the way it feels against my teeth."

"...You mean the chew?"

"Yes. I think it might be because of the way their musculature evolved compared to land animals."

Junho made a delighted sound. "Only you can make dinner sound like an academic presentation."

Mirae pressed her lips thin and looked away, as if shocked by her own words. She shouldn't have said that. She shouldn't have let herself ease up and loosen her tongue. It was an unfortunate side effect of his presence. Without any effort on his part, he made her ramble, and that was dangerous because she hadn't come here to talk or be comfortable. She'd only come because the sheer relief of seeing him alive prevented her from declining. 

This dinner was a final goodbye before they went on with their separate lives and never saw each other again. She refused to let it become anything else. 

Seeing her inner turmoil, Junho tapped her bowl with his chopsticks, drawing her attention back to him. "Okay, no more seafood talk. Now eat. And if you hate that too, I will happily trade you my dumplings and not even complain once."

"God, you really do have some sort of weird martyr complex."

But her lips twitched in another half smile, and for him, it felt like he'd won a small impossible victory. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

For some reason Mirae couldn't discern, Junho had insisted on parking several blocks away from the restaurant, which would have been fine if it hadn't started raining the moment they stepped out. 

What started as a teasing drizzle became a relentless downpour, the kind that soaked through her clothes and left her hair clinging to her cheeks. Mirae grumbled under her breath, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she tilted her face up to the grey sky with a deep scowl. Of course, the universe would do this, just another joke in an already disorienting night.

Then, suddenly, Junho was there, and she startled at the warmth at her side. He had taken off his jacket and was now holding it above her, arms awkwardly raised to create a makeshift canopy. It barely covered them both, and while it spared her the worst of the rain, it left him utterly drenched.

Water beaded on his brow, traced the edge of his jaw, and slipped down his neck. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and the white shirt he wore clung to his skin in a way that made her avert her eyes. He looked like a fool trying too hard.

When Mirae stopped walking, he paused as well, looking confused. 

"Why are we stopping?"

The question was innocent enough, but it made her laugh. She didn't know where it came from, only that it burst forth uncontrollable and full-bodied.

Junho blinked at her, raindrops clinging to his lashes. "What's so funny?" he asked, clearly trying not to smile.

"You. What are you even doing?"

He looked mildly offended. "Trying to be chivalrous?"

That only made her laugh harder, and she doubled over, stifling the sound into the crook of her elbow. "God, you are such a cliché."

Junho shrugged his jacket back on and seized her hand in one smooth motion. "Okay, that's it," he said, tugging her forward. "There's no point trying to be a gentleman with you."

Mirae resisted at first, still giggling despite her best efforts not to. She hadn't been drinking tonight, but she felt lightheaded in his presence, her inhibitions falling away under the pouring sky. Maybe she had a head injury or something. 

When he broke into a run, his fingers still entwined with hers, she nearly slipped on the wet pavement, and a muffled yelp escaped her. 

"I'm saving you from pneumonia, obviously," Junho told her, as if he could read the question on her mind, his arm coming up to steady her.

She let herself be pulled along after that, ignoring the warmth of his palm pressed against hers. The rain had a way of framing everything in a different light. 

They reached his car several minutes later, breathless and soaked to the bone. Mirae's hair had escaped the braid she had bound it in that morning, now tangled all over her face and neck thanks to their brief sprint. When she wiped it away, she noticed Junho looking at her, and he was being painfully obvious about it too, as if trying to memorize the way she looked before she disappeared. With a pang of something akin to grief, she remembered that he was right. This had to be the last time either of them saw each other. 

"You're staring again."

"I know," he responded a little breathlessly, and she didn't know if it was from exertion or something else, but his eyes never left her. 

Her pulse jumped when he leaned forward. He made no sudden moves or assumptions, just a silent question, and for a moment, she didn't know what to do. She wanted so desperately to close the gap and drown in this moment, but she also wanted to bolt. People like her didn't deserve the luxury of intimacy, but selfishly enough, she wanted it anyway. 

When her fingers brushed the cold metal of the car behind her, it jolted her senses and shattered the moment. She ducked her head and stepped away, slipping around the side of the car toward the passenger door. She refused to look up and see Junho's disappointed expression, but she could hear the sigh that he tried to bury in his throat. 

When he unlocked the car, she slipped in quickly, and Junho followed several moments later as if he needed that extra time to compose himself. He started the engine with grim resignation, and the atmosphere around them was stifling. 

"Sorry about your seats," Mirae murmured. 

He didn't look at her when he answered in a clipped tone. "It's fine." 

Mirae turned to watch water race down the window like it was more interesting than the ache between her ribs, and at the next red light, he glanced over. The light painted her in streaks of crimson, reminding him of the first time he'd seen her like this, outside Eun-kyung's apartment. Back then, she'd been distant too, like her soul had floated several feet out of her body, and he'd thought her beautiful nonetheless.

She was still lovely, of course, but infinitely harder to understand. She wasn't making this easy, so maybe it was finally time for him to stop trying so hard to stretch one night into forever.

He cleared his throat. "Let me drop you home."

She didn't hesitate. "I need to get my car."

"I can bring it to you later, if you like?" Another excuse to see her again.

"I'd rather not. And besides, my place is much further. It'd be easier to drop me back at work."

"I don't mind."

"I do."

Junho's hand tightened around the steering wheel. "I can't let you drive around in this weather."

"You seem to be doing fine." Mirae's tone was only slightly mocking. "Are you questioning my driving abilities? I assure you, I am capable enough."

"I give out traffic tickets for a living. I can't in good conscience encourage reckless driving."

"You're not. If you want, you can just drop me off at the nearest bus stop and save us both the trouble." She finally looked at him then, arching a brow as if to challenge him. 

His lips parted, then closed again in frustration. "God, you must think me heartless."

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he didn't argue further. He simply drove in the direction of her lab, hoping the journey would take forever, even if it meant being trapped in this space saturated with almosts and nevers as he tried to decipher the enigma that was Oh Mirae. 

The universe seemed to have heard his prayer because a while later, the car lurched and there was an odd sound, before the steering wheel began to veer to the right despite Junho's best attempts to straighten it. With a disgruntled sound, he pulled over at the side of the road. The landscape around them was nothing but skeletal trees, and his car was the only one on this dark stretch of road right now. 

Mirae's eyes narrowed at the unmoving scenery. "Why'd we stop?"

"Flat tire, I think." 

He didn't wait for a reply. The door opened with a groan, and he was crouched by the front right tire in minutes, while Mirae watched through the window as he tried to simultaneously juggle a flashlight and check for damage. 

She muttered a curse under her breath, a little at him, but mostly at the godforsaken decision of Professor Moon's lab to be built at the edge of civilization. An umbrella in the backseat caught her eye, so she twisted in her seat to yank it free. Then she threw open the door and stepped out into the storm, her boots splashing in the puddles gathering on the roadside. 

Junho winced at the sound of her approaching, looking surprised when she angled the umbrella to shelter his kneeling form and plucked the flashlight out of his hands to point the beam at the tire he was scrutinizing. 

He looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "You're going to get wet. Get back in the car."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?"

"Of course you'd argue. I don't know why I expected you to listen for once."

"It'll go faster if I help."

Junho scoffed bitterly. "That eager to get away from me, aren't you?"

She sneered in response, but she held back whatever vitriol was festering on her tongue. When Junho walked around to the back to retrieve the spare tire and tools from the trunk, she followed like a shadow, and when he crouched by the wheel again to loosen the lug nuts, she stood by. If he noticed the way her gaze lingered on his forearms when he rolled the sleeves of his jacket up, he didn't say, and he was too irritated to reprimand her for prioritizing sheltering him over herself. Let her catch a cold if she was going to be a stubborn fool. 

In the yellow glow of the flashlight, the two of them looked straight out of an old noir film—shadows, tension, unspoken things thrumming beneath their skin. Junho glanced up at her briefly, once again astounded by her perfectly sculpted profile against the starless sky. 

"You know, I really didn't plan for the night to end with me elbow-deep in tire grease."

In the dark, Mirae's expression was hard to interpret, and he couldn't tell if she was teasing or threatening him when she spoke. "Oh yeah, how did you plan for the night to end?"

Junho didn't have an answer to that, so he changed the subject. "You know, if you slip up and drop the flashlight on my head, I could arrest you for assaulting an officer."

That earned an almost laugh. "You know I've done worse, right?"

"I know." 

He tightened the last bolt, stood slowly, and stretched, making Mirae acutely aware that the umbrella over them was not nearly large enough, and they were standing too close, framed by a curtain of falling silver from every side. Her breath caught when Junho tilted his head slightly. He didn't move any closer, but he looked like he had something to say. 

Before he could, Mirae pressed the umbrella into his hands and stepped out into the precipitation. "Good work. Didn't think you'd know how to change a tire."

Junho grimaced, and instead of answering, he asked a different question. "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Push people away right when they're about to reach you?"

Her shoulders stiffened, and she resisted the urge to flee right then and there. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Are we really doing this now?"

"Seems like the perfect time." Junho gestured to the barren landscape around them. "Nowhere for you to run and hide, which seems to be your signature move."

"I do not run and hide."

"I think you do." He maneuvered them so that she now stood with her back to the car, barring any chance of escape. "All you do is avoid your problems, but you forget that some of them are capable of chasing you."

"Nothing that can't be solved with a well-aimed bullet. Though a knife to the ribs or fist to the solar plexus will do in a pinch."

"Ah, yes, your other signature move." Junho winced. "You can't solve everything with violence."

"Been working so far," Mirae retorted. "I don't see why I should stop now."

"Is that what you're considering now, then?"

"...No..."

"Why?"

She had no response to that. Why indeed had she not killed him when common sense dictated that she should have? 

Junho's hands had fallen to his sides now, the umbrella slipping to the ground without either of them noticing, even when the sky pelted them with its tears. Water dripped from Mirae's chin, trailing down the slender column of her throat, and he found himself watching it as though it were a path he might follow. He avoided looking at her mouth, because he didn't trust himself not to make the first move again, but if she ducked away a second time, he didn't think he could bear it. 

Instead, he let the stillness fester until finally, she cracked, whispering words that looked like they hurt to utter out loud. 

"You were wrong, by the way."

Junho allowed himself a smug grin. "You never get tired of telling me that, do you. Please, enlighten me. What profound truth have I missed now?"

She hesitated, her jaw working for a second before she spoke hoarsely. "I'm not—I wasn't eager to get away from you."

The faintest flicker of surprise crossed his features. He was good at deception, but he didn't try too hard to hide the warmth blooming in his chest, letting it illuminate his features. "Well," he began carefully, "if we're confessing things, I'm not eager to get away from you either."

Mirae flinched at the confession. 

"I parked so far away from the restaurant," he went on, "because I wanted to use our walk back to think of an excuse to see you again."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Didn't expect it to rain, did you?"

"That was an oversight," Junho admitted. "I forgot that you're a harbinger of bad weather. Emotional and meteorological."

"Well, then, have you thought of one?"

"One what?"

"An excuse to see me again."

Junho hesitated, his confidence faltering. "Well, no. I didn't think you'd want to see me again. You've made it pretty clear all evening—at least I think you have. Actually, I can't tell with you. You're cryptic as hell, and I haven't had this many mixed signals from a girl since college."

Mirae's eyes dimmed instantly when she remembered once again that this was a bad idea. She shouldn't want this, shouldn't want him. There was no room for someone like Junho in a life like hers. There were things about her he didn't know, things that would make him recoil in horror, and yet he made her feel less alone. He looked at her like she wasn't a ticking bomb or a monster, at least not yet, and for a brief moment, she wanted to be someone who deserved what he was offering. 

She stepped forward without thinking, her fingers brushing his jacket when she leaned in and kissed him. It was a quick, unsure gesture, her lips gone before they'd even fully landed.

Junho's eyes widened in surprise, and he reached instinctively for the flashlight she still held, shining it onto her face. The sudden brightness made her flinch and squint up at him with a scowl.

"What—?" he exclaimed, blinking rapidly as though he hadn't registered what happened. "What was that? I thought—"

"I was testing a hypothesis," Mirae muttered defensively, cheeks flaming red now. She didn't tell him that she was looking for an external factor for her unruly emotions. Back on the island, it was easy to blame the blood loss and adrenaline, but she didn't have a fitting excuse anymore. It seemed illogical to blame the rain for her desire to kiss him. Maybe it was just his stupid face, or maybe she'd done it because she simply wanted to. She couldn't be sure. 

"You just kissed me," Junho interrupted her train of thought and repeated her horrified thought back to her, an earnest grin spreading across his face. "Hypothesis, huh?"

"Shut up."

"You have got to be the strangest woman I've ever met."

"Excuse you—"

Then the flashlight clattered to the ground, and Junho's fingers slid into her wet hair, tender and certain. He didn't give her the chance to finish her sentence or take back what she'd given. 

With a breathy murmur against her skin—"We better test that hypothesis properly this time"—he pressed his mouth to hers again.

This time, it wasn't brief or cautious. It was lingering and warm and soaked in everything unsaid. Mirae's hands clutched his jacket to ground herself even as she felt her heart slip somewhere untethered, because Junho kissed like a man who'd dreamed about it a thousand times and was finally receiving permission. He pressed her firmly against the car, his body shielding her from the downpour, his lips moving with an unrelenting confidence. 

His hands started in her hair, then slid down, one curling at the nape of her neck while the other grasped her waist. His palm was scorching even over her sodden sweater, fingertips splayed wide like he couldn't bear to touch too little of her. It was overwhelming—he was overwhelming—all warmth and solidity. 

Mirae felt an inexplicable urge to cry, and she couldn't tell if the wetness on her cheeks was the rain or her tears. Maybe it was because he was alive, so devastatingly alive, his heartbeat thudding steadily against her. Not long ago, she thought she'd never see him again. She had grieved his death, yet here he was, holding her like he meant it. 

A sob clawed its way to the back of her throat, but she swallowed it, desperate to hold onto the salt of her own aching relief. She didn't deserve this or him, but gods, she wanted it anyway.

When Junho finally pulled back to press his forehead against hers, she whispered, "You're really here..."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I thought—" 

He shut her up with another kiss. "Doesn't matter. I'm here, and so are you."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle by the time they pulled into the empty parking lot of Mirae's lab, the wet asphalt reflecting the glow of the streetlights in blurred halos. Junho parked right beside her car with the precision of someone reluctant to let go, but she didn't leave right away, and he could see the gears in her head turning as she tried to come up with a reason to banish him from her company for good. 

When she finally turned toward him with an apologetic expression—one that said thank you but this is where I leave you—he shook his head before she could say a word.

"No," he stated firmly. "You don't get to tell me you'll never see me again. Not after tonight."

Her mouth parted, but he kept going. "Come on, Mirae. Please stop running away."

Startled by his conviction, the ache in Mirae's chest intensified. Then, just as she reached for the door handle, Junho reached out and caught her gently by the chin.

"Hold still for a minute," he murmured, while his other hand fumbled around the glove compartment to pull out a wad of crumpled napkins. 

"What are you—?" she began, confused.

Junho's thumb stroked her jaw with a sheepish smile. "Might've gotten carried away earlier. You've got tire grease all over you."

Mirae made a face, then shrugged. "I've had worse."

His expression dimmed, his voice softening apologetically. "Doesn't mean you should."

He wiped her face carefully, savouring the excuse to stay close and study her in pieces. When he was satisfied, he didn't let go, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. He didn't mean it to be teasing or flirtatious, just a tender reminder that he would be her safe harbour if she ever needed one. 

"Okay," he said, his breath brushing her skin. "Now you can go."

Mirae rolled her eyes and pulled away. "Someone's eager today."

"What can I say, you bring it out in me."

"I bring out the hopeless idiot in you?"

Junho glared at her with mock severity. "Oh, you are cruel, truly."

Mirae shrugged, already reaching for the car door handle. "Well, goodbye then."

"Wait," he blurted, "I got it."

"Now, what?" 

Junho grinned, that boyish glint returning to his eyes. "An excuse to see you again."

She gave him a wary look, already sensing the ambush in his expression. "And what would that be?"

"Well," he said, leaning back a little, stretching like he had all the time in the world, "I know a guy who knows a guy who has a private collection of preserved deep-sea specimens. Super rare stuff. No public access. But I can get you in."

Mirae groaned and massaged her temples. "That feels like a setup. You can't just bribe me into hanging out with you under the guise of academic interest."

"Who said anything about bribery? I'm offering a mutually beneficial arrangement—symbiosis. You get to see fancy fish, and I get to see your face without almost dying first. Win-win."

"You know I could probably find out who your contact is and go see them myself."

Junho winked. "But you don't know the guy, I do. You know me."

"Barely."

"Liar," he said instantly, smiling like he'd won a bet. "You watched me change a tire and saved my life. Twice. That makes you a good friend, at the very least."

"Right, because good friends threaten to shoot each other. I worry for the company you keep."

"You shouldn't. I keep excellent company." A smug expression painted his face as he scanned over her pointedly.

Mirae exited the car before he could say anything else that might make her heart do that stupid little summersault in her chest. She desperately needed to sleep off today's events, and maybe drown the memory of his lips in alcohol so by tomorrow her mind would be a blank slate. 

Before she could flee to her car, Junho rolled down his window and declared, "Great, same time next week then."

Mirae looked at him incredulously. "We never agreed on that."

"We just did," he smirked before driving off, his final words hanging in the air. "It's a date."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A/N: A win for MIRHO nation today. Nothing hotter than your man quoting your journal article back to you lol. This entire chapter was them yearning for each other lmfao. Pulled inspo from every kdrama I ever watched for this because they deserve a silly impromptu date. This is possibly my fav chapter of the entire fic so far, so I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts on it. Might milk this romcom thing a couple more chapters (lemme know if there's any particular interactions between them you'd like to see) because I'm dreading the horrors and the inevitable end :(