high flying love ¦ lee jeno

ch ; 37

·⁀ ༄.°✈ ₊⭒˚｡⋆ 37 ·⁀ ༄.°✈ ₊⭒˚｡⋆
He is in Love

For days, the invitation perched on Yura's coffee table like a silent beacon. In the quiet of the evenings, she'd find her gaze drawn to the elegant lettering, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. Finally, after much deliberation, she decided to attend. Stepping into a dress rental boutique, she emerged with a stunning pastel yellow champagne dress, the color a perfect counterpoint to the storm of emotions brewing within her.

Friday arrived, and Yura stood before the vanity mirror, a million anxieties swirling like butterflies in her stomach. Her long brown hair was styled in a half-updo, the ends cascading into soft curls. Just then, a notification buzzed on her phone. A direct message from Na Jaemin.

'Hey Yura!' it read. 'Just letting you know Jeno will be picking you up for the wedding.'

Yura's heart lurched. She hadn't spoken to Jeno since their disastrous encounter, a gulf of unspoken words and hurt feelings hanging between them. The thought of being alone with him in a car sent a jolt of panic through her. But this was Jaemin's day, and she wouldn't let her discomfort overshadow the celebration. With a resigned sigh, she typed a quick reply, "Okay, thanks for letting me know!"

A tense silence settled over her apartment until the distant honk of a car shattered it. Jeno was here. Her stomach clenched, and she grabbed a small purse, a relic from her high school prom, something familiar in this uncharted territory. Taking a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time that day, she locked the door and headed downstairs.

As she rounded the corner, she saw Jeno. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, leaning casually against his sleek car, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His hair was styled back, revealing a smooth forehead. Yet, his posture seemed rigid, and his gaze was fixed on the door of her cafe, a picture of stoicism masking a storm of emotions within.

Yura took another deep breath, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She approached him slowly, each step echoing in the quiet street. Jeno, sensing a movement in his peripheral vision, turned his head towards her. The breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on her.

There, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlamp, stood Yura. The pastel yellow dress clung to her curves, a vision of elegance. Her hair cascaded in soft curls, framing a face flushed with a hint of nervousness. Time seemed to stand still. For a fleeting moment, Jeno saw only her.

In that instant, a truth he'd tried to bury deep within him resurfaced – his feelings for Yura had never faded. Seeing her again, so breathtakingly beautiful, sent his mind into a frenzy, his heartbeat a frantic drum solo in his chest.

His carefully constructed facade crumbled. Every regret, every unspoken word, flooded back, leaving him speechless. He knew then, with a sickening certainty, that he was hopelessly, undeniably in love with Yura.

Yura offered a tentative "Hi," her voice barely above a whisper. Jeno, who had been momentarily lost in the vision before him, blinked and shook himself out of his trance.

"Hi," he mumbled back, his voice hoarse. They stood there for a beat, an awkward silence stretching between them. Yura could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off him, mirroring the butterflies fluttering in her own stomach.

Jaemin's plan, hatched just a few nights ago over drinks, suddenly clicked in Jeno's mind. Yura coming to the wedding, him as her chauffeur – a forced interaction designed to get them talking again. He'd initially protested, the weight of his unspoken confession hanging heavy between them. But Jaemin, with his usual bluntness, had simply said, "Do it, Jeno. You owe her that much."