snowflake ☆ k.dy ☆ ayakashi series | ✔

doyoung [nine]

Friday night was upon you, bright smile spreading across your face and laughter tumbling out of your mouth. Doyoung was chatting amicably with you, telling you stories of his time growing up in the Qian household, and you'd offer back tales of your own childhood making trouble with Jaemin. A street vendor handed you a stuffed sweet bun that your date paid for, and you could tell that it was fresh, the warmth from it seeping into your chilly fingers.

You bit into the bun, letting out a noise of surprise when you felt the filling from the inside dripping down your chin. Thankfully, you were only a step away from the stand, which had napkins, and Doyoung grabbed one for you. Slightly embarrassed, you swallowed the bite in your mouth before wiping off your skin and thanking him.

"Perhaps I shouldn't take you to that nice establishment tomorrow," he mused aloud. The twitch of the corner of his lips let you know that he was kidding—you were getting better at understanding when his rather dry sense of humor was showing through.

"Perhaps," you echoed jokingly, taking another bite. This time you victoriously kept all the insides either in the food or in your mouth. "Ha!"

"You have proven me wrong."

The two of you stopped at another stall for Doyoung to get himself a dessert, a much neater and compact assortment of candied fruits each in their own ruffled sleeve that could be picked up to eat from without getting a single particle of the food on one's fingers. After he had tucked his wallet back into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and accepted the plastic container from the vendor, he looked to you expectantly to continue your meandering down the street.

"You didn't have to come straight from work, you know," you told him, well aware of how much he stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. And how much he starkly contrasted your own rather casual outfit that you'd chosen for the date. "I wouldn't have minded if you wanted to change beforehand."

"I didn't."

"What? You prefer form-fitting suits to normal clothes?"

"These are my normal clothes."

"You know what I meant."

"But you clearly didn't understand what I meant."

You'd just bit into your bun again, and through your mouthful of sweet dough, you said, "Huh?"

"I didn't want to go home and change beforehand because then I would have seen you later."

"Oh..." You trailed off, honestly at a loss for words. The only thing you could seem to do was take yet another bite of your food and look bashfully down at the ground. Doyoung had said that so plainly, matter-of-factly, just like when he'd said he wouldn't leave you during your first date.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?"

The sudden change in trajectory of your conversation caught you off-guard, your mind still processing what he had just said before, "Oh, uh, just one, Chemistry."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Just wish I didn't have it on Fridays."

"I see."

"What about you? What's on your schedule for tomorrow?"

"Aside from my typical duties, Mr. Qian is to be meeting with a rather important business partner of the company."

"And what are you going to be doing during this meeting?"

"Accompanying Mr. Qian to greet them, ensuring that Mr. Qian's papers are all together, acquiring any requested food or drink for them, taking notes of the meeting and anything else he may need me to do."

"Have you ever called him Kun? There's no way you called him Mr. Qian when you were like nine, right? And what do you call his dad? What if you're talking to both of them, how do you distinguish them?"

"His father is President Qian, while the Vice President has granted me permission to simply address him as Mr. Qian instead of his full title."

"Got it. What about my first question?"

"I did address him by his first name when I was younger," Doyoung admitted. "But once I began working under him, it would have been inappropriate to continue addressing him so casually."

"I can't imagine..." you wrinkled your nose, trying to draw up your own comparison. "Oh, I couldn't imagine having to call Jaehyun—my friend who is a TA in my Lit class—I couldn't imagine calling him 'Mr. Jung.' God, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."

"Would you like some water to wash that back down with?"

You narrowed your eyes just the slightest, both of you aware of your hyperbole, "I'm good, I'll let the hydrochloric acid burn my esophagus."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind."

As the two of you came upon a small group of dancers in the street, your conversation was put on pause to watch them.

☆

Once more at your front door at the end of the night, you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, debating. You were giddy and happy from your wonderful night with Doyoung, but your stomach started twisting as it came to a close. Your conversation with Jaemin was playing in the back of your mind. Maybe Doyoung was too gentlemanly, maybe you should initiate something first. Just a hug, that'd be okay, right?

"I had a really good time with you, Doyoung," you informed him almost absentmindedly, mentally rehearsing how and when you'd go in for the hug.

"Me too, Y/N," he agreed, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

As soon as your muscles twitched to move towards him, he took a step back, the movement fluid and seemingly unattached to your own intentions. You hadn't done more than lift your hands up from your sides to about waist-level, and immediately dropped them back down, cheeks heating up at your own personal embarrassment. All of your confidence had been immediately deflated, like a rather sad balloon that had only been blown up halfway in the first place.

The snow spirit nodded to you, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah," you confirmed with a sigh, acquiring your house key. "Goodnight, Doyoung."

"Goodnight, Y/N."