Jumin's POV

"Welcome home, Jumin. Let's eat."

Zen is smiling at me as he speaks. But something about his smile is different this time. And I… can't place it. All I know is that it feels… warm. I like it.

My eyes dance across his face, looking for a hint of the anger that was just there a moment ago. But his red eyes look soft. No wrinkles pull at his lips or crease his brow.

Does it mean he's forgiven me? I feel so much lighter as the redemption washes over me. And he has officially welcomed me home. I smile. It is as if the wonder of today is back in alignment. Thank goodness.

"Yes. Let's eat," I reply. "What did Chef make? I am not familiar with this dish."

Zen chuckles, and sends me a sheepish grin. "It's just Korean fried chicken. I eat it all the time. But I didn't know what to ask him for, so I just asked for something that goes with beer."

I look at the can of beer that Zen had set in front of me. I am not usually a fan of beer, but if this dish is intended to go with it, then I shall have to try it again. I pick it up, and bring the cold metal to my lips. Taking a small sip, I swirl the liquid around in my mouth, swallow, and set the can back down.

"Hmm." I grimace slightly. "I still prefer wine."

Zen chuckles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did you swish it around like mouthwash?"

"Yes." I answer gruffly, slightly offended by his question. "How else would I get the full flavor?"

"Jumin," Zen laughs, "just copy me, okay?"

He picks up the can, brings it to his lips, then tips it back. I watch his Adam's apple bob as he chugs his beer. When he pulls it away with a small, refreshed gasp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his arm and grins broadly.

"That's how you drink a beer."

I furrow my brow, but copy Zen exactly. The cold liquid pours down my throat. It's true, it doesn't taste so bad this way. When I finish, I slam down my can, and look at Zen for approval.

"Attaboy, Jumin." He laughs and stands, going to the fridge to get us two new beers. As he sets down my new can, he pats my shoulder in an affectionate gesture that sends shivers through me. "And now, we eat! Man, I've been dying to eat this since the chicken hit the pan. Now Jumin," Zen's eyes sparkle with mischief in the most beautiful way, "fried chicken isn't something you eat delicately. Just like with the beer, you have to dive in. Got it?"

I nod and watch him.

Zen stabs a piece of chicken with his fork, and quickly pops it into his mouth. I watch him chew once, twice, three times. Then his eyes go wide. With a full mouth, he moans, then chews faster. Another bite goes in, and another moan comes out. He makes deep, whimpering groans of pleasure with every clench of his jaw.

I feel heat pulse to my groin in response to Zen's noises, and confusion flits through me. For arousal to hit me this morning, and then again now…

"Jumin," Zen says, one cheek pooched out like a chipmunk, "you have to try this. This is amazing."

Yes, Jumin. Focus on eating. I shake my head and take a deep breath.

I turn my eyes to my plate, and stab a small hunk of the fried chicken. When I take a bite, strong flavors and an atypical texture hit my tongue in a pleasant manner.

"Mmm. This is quite good."

"Quite good?!" Zen parrots through his mouthful. He quickly swallows, then continues loudly, "Are you kidding me? This is the best Korean fried chicken I've ever had! This may even be the best meal I've had in years…"

"Oh? I'm glad you are enjoying it." I smile. "I will have to ask Chef Baek back before you leave."

The air thins in my lungs as my own words sink in. I know he is going to leave. That is why I need to find a wife as soon as possible. The thought of being alone in my home again is… paralyzing.

"So, Jumin. How was your day?"

Zen's voice pulls my focus back, and I take a deep breath, righting my breathing. "It was wonderful. Very productive. How was your day, Zen?" I have been wondering all day what he's been up to.

"Oh, it was good I guess. This morning kind of threw me off," he looks at me with a wry smirk, and I realize he's referring to my teasing in the chatroom, "but I was able to buckle down and get to business."

"Have you been practicing for your audition still, then?" I ask between bites.

"Yup."

"What is the role?"

Zen pauses his eating and looks up at me, his head cocked slightly downward. "Um… It's kind of a long shot, but it's a role I've always wanted to do." His teeth comb nervously over his bottom lip, and a slight flush colors his cheeks.

I can't quite place his emotion, but his expression makes my heart flutter in my chest. He is so beautiful, so alluring.

"Go on," I prod, feeling a blush of my own come on.

"It's the lead in the Monster of the Opera," he blurts out quickly. "Like I said, I know it's a long shot, but I have to try."

"Ah, such a classic. I've seen it portrayed many times. Depending on the man playing the monster, each rendition is different. I can see why you'd want such an influential role."

"Yes, exactly! I think I could really put my own spin on it while giving deeper meaning to the plight of the monster."

My chest feels full as I watch Zen's face light up as he discusses more about the role. I have never seen any of his performances live, but I did watch one of Assistant Kang's recordings before, and his passion was palpable even through the screen. I have never felt so passionately about anything the way Zen does about so many things. It makes me feel lucky to be in his presence and experience his excitement vicariously.

"If you get the role, I will be sure to attend every show," I say with a smile.

Zen's mouth drops open slightly, and more color spreads across his pale face. "Y-you wouldn't need to do that."

"But I'd want to," I assure him. "It would be a pleasure to watch you perform such a classic role. Though I must admit, I am having trouble picturing someone as stunning as you as the monster."

Zen sits silently, staring at me intently, the redness still peppered along his cheeks. "Do you really think I'm stunning?"

I smirk. "As if you need a further ego boost. You know how handsome everyone finds you, Zen."

He waves a hand and rolls his eyes. "I know how the general population feels. I'm asking about you, Jumin."

I frown. I don't understand his line of questioning. "What exactly are you asking, Zen?"

"Shit," he grumbles, looking everywhere but at me. "What I already asked you! Why do you have to be so difficult?" Zen whines, then chugs more of his beer. When the can is empty, he sets it down with a resigned pout. His eyes travel between his empty plate to my almost empty one. "Are you done eating? I'll clean up."

I nod, and Zen quickly stands and takes our plates to the sink. I remain seated, watching as he scrapes the excess scraps of food into the trash and then begins to wash them in the sink. I'm about to open my mouth to tell him to leave the dishes for the maid, but just before the words come out, I think better of it.

Those are not the words Zen wants to hear. But… I don't know why he asked me what he did. And I don't know how to answer. I feel the knot that I had balled up start to fray again. My feelings are hidden even from myself, and yet I can feel them itching to get out. But I'm scared. How much of myself do I leave bare?

I wipe both corners of my mouth with the napkin, then stand. My heart feels as if it is going to pound right out of my chest as I stare at Zen's back. His tall frame sways slightly as he scrubs the dishes. My eyes rake over his form, taking in his sculpted arms. The broad curve of his shoulders. His pure, snow-white hair. The subtle curves of his rear as his hips make each slight movement. The smooth, pale skin of every visible inch of him. The skin that I want to see more of.

I approach Zen from behind, trying desperately to control my growing need to touch him. I feel, I grit my teeth, I know that would be crossing the line. But I move close. Close enough that I can whisper and he'll still hear me. Because, as much panic that is blazing through me right now, I want to answer Zen's question. This tension inside is begging to break, and I can feel myself toeing a dangerous line between desire and control.

As I stop next to him, I notice him stiffen, but he doesn't turn around.

"Zen." His name comes out breathy. I am practically panting as I stand a mere inch away from him. He smells amazing. My control begins to crack, and I reach up a trembling hand and twirl the tip of his hair loosely through my fingers as I speak. "You are stunning. Not just to others, but to me as well. Everything about you sings a song of beauty. Your smooth skin. Your expressive eyes. Your toned body. And since you've been here, since I've seen you up close and have seen your natural smile," my hand leaves his hair and skims down his lower back without making contact, "I am struck daily by the impossibility of your beauty. You are a piece of art that compels yet forbids my touch."

Zen's head shakily turns to look at me over his shoulder, his entire face a bright shade of pink. "F-fuck, Jumin."

My breath halts and my eyes widen. "Excuse me," I exclaim, backing away and practically running to the bathroom. My hands hit the sides of the sink. No. NO. What did I just say? Did I say that out loud? I don't know what came over me. I may have been feeling this way these past few days, but to vocalize it? I don't even know what it means, myself, that I think of him so often and in this way, and yet here I am spouting it like a proclamation.

My grip tightens on the edge of the sink as I look at myself in the mirror. My skin is a bright shade of red - unlike anything I have ever seen on myself before, but very like the color of Zen's face when he turned to look at me.

Zen. Here I am floundering over my own feelings, but what about Zen? How is he reacting to my words? I hope I didn't make him angry again.

I splash cold water on my face then take a deep breath. Don't fall apart, Jumin. You can handle this. I dry my face off and begin to straighten myself out. I flatten my hair. Adjust my watch. Smooth down my shirt. Tuck in my strings until they are back into an awkward knot in my gut.

One more calming breath, and I am ready to go out and do damage control. But my R.F.A. notification pings. Before I go back out to the living room, I check my phone and see a private message from Luciel.

707: I'm getting close. This stalker has done a great job remaining anonymous, but I found their trail…

707: *eye twinkle emoji*

Jumin: Wonderful. I shall inform my security team and have them work with the police.

707: Enjoy 'sleeping' with Zen again tonight ʱªʱªʱª(ᕑᗢूᓫ∗)

Jumin: Luciel. Make all the jokes you want with me, but I do not want to hear you teasing Zen one more time about this.

707: *glasses brake emoji*

707: Is JuJu defending Zen?

Jumin: Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't I?

Jumin: Now, do you understand? Stop pestering Zen.

707: What's in it for me? Can I pet Elly?

707: *heart eyes emoji*

Jumin: NO.

Jumin: I will not stand for you upsetting Zen as you have been today.

Jumin: There will be no reward - only punishment. And trust me when I say you don't want to find out what that punishment will be.

707: *crying emoji*

707: Have I been upsetting him that much? I was only playing!

707: My bad… I'll stop

707: *crying emoji*

Jumin: Good. I need to go. Please let me know if you have further updates on the stalker.

Putting my phone back in my pocket, I stand behind the bathroom door, hesitating once again. I close my eyes, trying desperately to keep control of my thoughts.

The stalker is almost caught. Once the stalker is arrested, Zen will return to his home. The thought of him leaving makes my chest feel hollow and void. But that is why you are searching for a wife. You will never have to be alone again, Jumin. And yet… the thought of bringing a wife home doesn't fill the gaping hole in my chest. I open my eyes and shake my head, deciding it is simply because I haven't met her yet. That once I have her, things will be as they are now, with Zen.

I step out. Resolved to be as composed as usual, I say in an even tone, "Zen. Luciel just messaged me. He thinks he is close to catching your-"

I freeze as my eyes take note of the differences in my home. My TV and entertainment center are no longer in front of my couch. It is not a great distance, but the cords are stretched to the limit as Zen has forced the TV to aim towards the bed. And on my bed is Zen himself, lying in his shirt and boxers, legs crossed over each other, and aiming the remote at the TV.

He looks up at me with a smile. "My stalker? That's great news! I mean, I was planning on going to my audition next week whether they were caught or not, but knowing I don't have to worry about it is great!"

I just blink, eyes flashing from my TV to Zen.

"Oh," he chuckles sheepishly, "sorry, I hope this is okay? I thought since it's still early we could watch a movie together, but your couch is just awful." He laughs awkwardly again, then gives me an apologetic grimace. "Bad idea? I can put it back."

I… am so confused. I had thought he might be angry with me again. But he… wants to watch a movie together?

At my silence, he jumps up, waving his arms in defense. "Okay, sorry, I'll put it back."

"No!" I say before I've even formed the thought. "It sounds… lovely."

Zen smiles and droops his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, great." He sits back down on my bed, and pats the spot next to him. "Get comfy, and then you can come sit. I'll find something to watch. What genres are your favorite?"

My adrenaline trickles back into play at what he wants to do. Is the thought of watching a movie someone supposed to be so thrilling? But before I answer, I take three slow breaths and force my voice to come out calm. "Hmm… I usually watch documentaries. But I am open to trying something new. Pick anything you would like."

"Documentaries," Zen tsks. "Let's see if I can find an action flick…"

I undress down to my undershirt and boxers, mirroring Zen. The whole situation is driving me mad, and I wonder if I need to make an appointment with my doctor for a heart study after all this frenzied beating of late. But I take my seat next to him just the same.

"Oh! Okay, how about this one. John Wick! It's fantastic. Lots of murder, though. You okay with that?"

I nod, okay with anything Zen is so excited about. The movie begins, but all I can stare at is our hands, so close together on the bed. My breath speeds up as I inch my fingers closer to him. He never responded to what I said. I have no idea how he felt about it. I feel so… in limbo.

"Ah!" He hops up suddenly. "Let me go get us some beers. Or," he turns to me with a questioning upturned hand as he walks towards the kitchen, "would you prefer a glass of wine?"

"Wine. Please." I pull my hand back and tuck it under my thigh.

When he returns, he hands me a glass of red wine with a gorgeous smile that makes something inside me feel as if I am melting. I quickly take a sip, and turn my focus to the screen. If Zen likes this movie, then I should give it my full attention and assessment.

And I soon become enthralled. You would think a movie based so heavily on action and death would not have such a thorough and deeply thought out plot, but it does. I find myself talking to the television, to which Zen laughs every time, but his smiling eyes tell me they are laughs of appreciation, not derision. Elizabeth joins us on the bed for a time, but leaves as we can not seem to sit quietly and calmly enough for her liking. And when the movie ends, I simply continue to stare at the screen, watching the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?"

I turn to Zen with an appreciative grin. "It was surprisingly enjoyable."

"There's more, you know. More John Wick movies."

"We should watch the next one." I say with enthusiasm.

"Another time." Zen laughs and pats my leg. The touch immediately pulls my focus, but Zen continues, not noticing the shift in my gaze. "We should get to sleep. It's getting late and my nose is getting sniffly. I need that shot."

We both get ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom. I give Zen his shot, and Elizabeth her dinner. Silently, in the near darkness, we both turn our backs as we take off our shirts. When I turn back around, I can see Zen's outline poised halfway between my bed and his untouched blanket bed on the floor, the edges of his alluring body highlighted in the night. I think back to the feeling of him in my arms this morning. That was how this absolutely blissful day began. Might he grace me with another night?

My jaw trembles as I ask, "Would you like to sleep with me again tonight?"

Fear clenches and twists my gut as a single second stretches for miles in my anxious mind. What if he says no? What if he's insulted? What if he brings up what I said earlier as a reason to not come near me? Whatever he says, at least I know it will be honest. Zen never hides his true feelings, never censors his insults. Whatever his answer, I shall respect it.

But before he opens his mouth to speak, Zen smiles and bites his lip. The light in the room is just bright enough for me to see his teeth rake over his lower lip in slow motion, the simple action doing something to me. I can feel arousal filling me up again and I panic. I slip beneath the covers before he even answers.

"Yeah. If you're sure?" He stands at the side of my bed, waiting.

I give a nod, but don't dare open my mouth to speak again. I can't believe he said yes. I can't believe the reaction my body is having. I don't know what's happening. Perhaps I shouldn't have invited Zen into my bed again. Perhaps I never should have. This seems to have opened a door inside me that I can't close.

My breathing turns to shallow pants as Zen's biceps flex as he adjusts the covers to climb in. Raking my eyes over him in the dim light feels like divine torture. The desire to touch him, to put my mouth on his every curve and dip, explodes within me and makes realization hit me like a tidal wave.

I… I want him. I want him like I have never wanted anyone or anything in my life. Strangled relief, fear, and sorrow build within me as I begin to recognize my own feelings. But I can't have him. I can't have him…

I watch him scooch down next to me in my bed. I can't have him. I can't have him. I move down to lay on my back as well, but my eyes are wide open as I stare at the dark ceiling.

"Jumin? Are you okay? You seem really tense."

I hesitate, but finally answer. "I'll be fine."

"If you want me to go to my blanket bed, tell me now, cause my head is already spinning."

"I'll be fine," I repeat.

"What time are you waking up tomorrow?"

Panicked adrenaline is still racing through me, but his question pulls me off guard so I turn to look at him again. The corner of my mouth quirks up as I see his beautifully relaxed expression, already halfway to sleep. A warmth blooms in my chest, settling some of my hysteria. "6am. I need to work out and shower before my 8 o'clock meeting tomorrow."

"Mmm… wake me up, too. Let's work out together." His words begin to get sloppy as he sounds more and more drowsy.

But I can't help but smile. The thought of working out together sounds… fun. I imagine Zen sweating as he lifts weights and does squats, and feel the pressure in my boxers swell further. I can't have him. I can't have him.

"Sure," I finally answer, my voice shaking.

Silence passes between us, and I think he's fallen asleep. His breathing is slow and steady. His warmth radiates over to me through the slight space between us, just as it did last night. I close my eyes and try to focus on the pleasure of his company, but not the lust my body keeps insisting upon. We are just good friends. You can have these other feelings with your future wife.

But suddenly Zen's soft, sleepy voice breaks through the quiet and my thoughts. It is nothing more than a whisper, a gentle murmur through his heavy breaths.

"I'm not forbidden, you know. You can touch me."

My eyes pop open and I gape through the darkness at his face. He appears to be asleep. Did I imagine it? I reach a tentative hand towards his cheek, desire burning me from the inside out. But what if I did imagine it? I fist my hand and yank it back. Anger and heartache pool in my belly as I once again refuse myself the gratification of touching him.

Rolling so my back is to him, I clamp my eyes shut and push my palm against my forehead. I can't have him. I can't have him. I repeat my new mantra to myself until I finally fall asleep.