Deal with Him | Lee Heeseung

14-Three tales of romance or something like that

Cutesy cutesy cutesy chapter
I decided that it would be better to first post this one, and then the last one. Don't be too sad :)

-Andrea

Some skies don’t shine bright enough. Some sceneries don’t seize what they should. Some people don’t see light from their homes.

But Evelyn watches blissful gleams even when it is all dark, because Evelyn sees his face daily.

                         Somewhere,
         on a timeless and rainy day

What was romance like two centuries ago?

“I don’t know, Heeseung…”

“Why don’t you know?” he replied, stealing a short glance at Evelyn, who was biting on her nails nervously, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Should you drive when it’s raining so much?” she faltered, watching from his window the uncustomary vacant highway.

The right brim of his lips raised slightly, his head inclined and downturned and he encouraged again, with a facetious tone, “There will be no tail spin, you can relax.”

Evelyn ran three fingers down her face and swirled to the other window. “And it’s night, too…” she mumbled to herself, even though her annoyance came from different sources.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

Heeseung flashed another glance to her, grinning at the tantrum she was not causing, but wished she would. As she frowned and inhaled deeply, he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers, obtaining the reaction he longed for.

Evelyn looked at him, hiding flush through knitted eyebrows, and brushed his hand away with the fright that he wasn’t driving responsibly. Yet, as she gazed at him and at his driving hands, she couldn’t help raise her eyebrows in a sort of amazement. He looked handsome as ever, but there was something close to surreal about the way his blackened nails drummed against the steering wheel, the way his sunglasses sat unbothered and the leather jacket fitted him all so exceptionally nice.

She brought her index finger to her lips before she noticed, and gawked at him, mindlessly, keeping the stern, hoaxing expression of wanting to kill that someone before you. Yet her mind saw nothing but a sight for sore eyes.

“Have you ever been to eighteen-o-seven (1807)?”

Her stare broke like a trance as she squinted in apprehension. “What?”
The storm hastened its fall of drops and ice shards, and her mind fantasized briefly about what he had just said, working all too quickly on a visualization of herself as a nineteen century woman. Her twenty-one years would be called “one-and-twenty”, and she’d wear a puffy, heavy and probably itchy gown.

But her imaginative sight broke loose as Heeseung’s both hands—that were supposed to pilot the vehicle—cupped her bony cheeks and turned her terrified face towards him. “Well, now we’re going.”

“What are you doing with your damn—“

Her scream never got the justice it deserved, for a wave of light and uncanny dust blinded the rainstorm they were in, and their car passed like lightning through whatever he had led her in.

Evelyn had her eyes closed and a death grip on Heeseung’s shirt, and somehow, in whatever ways the mysterious pass-way influenced their positions, her head lay in his chest, leaving her heart run crazy near his torso.

Withdrawing from him, she started scrutinizing her whereabouts, her gaze falling upon the clothes she wore and were not hers (not in present times). She flitted like a bat until she finally saw him; his rock star jacket shifted to an antique costume, with a white scarf and trousers of two layers.