Careful what you wish for (YoongixOC)

Chapter 1

"Jesus, this is why I didn't pass maths" I mutter under my breath as I fumble for my credit card among the sea of papers in my purse. I was going to pay for my food shopping with cash but my lack of numerical ability leaves me with a total cost 8,000 won short. I can already feel the judging glare of the prune-looking woman behind me wishing she can go back 50 years when the foreigners didn't invade her country.

"Thank you for shopping with us" An extremely unenthusiastic shop worker mechanically groans from the counter, leaving me to quickly put my purse in my bag and desperately grasp onto four very heavy shopping bags filled to the brim with traditional Korean ingredients. I love Korean food but have never really tried making it before, usually relying on takeaways and ready meals. I've clearly underestimated how much food a couple of dishes would need and curse my past self for not bringing my two-seater car to help me. Even though the bags are already cutting into my hands I know my flat is only a 10 minute walk away and so I tell myself "no pain no gain" and push on out the store.

The streets of Seoul are busy, but not as packed as they would be on a Saturday morning. At least I have some common sense to shop on a Thursday afternoon. I weave in and out of occasional passers by who sometimes look at me in surprise, not used to seeing a British citizen hastily hauling large amounts of Korean food down the street. Two minutes into the journey and I turn my first corner and cross the street, walking past inviting cafes and stores. I make a mental note to visit a few of them if I don't have as many papers to mark over the weekend. 4 minutes in and I'm now on a less busy street closer to hired company buildings and more expensive apartments. I turn a sharp corner.

Shit.

I collide into someone wearing a facemask on their phone walking in the opposite direction. The overly polite Brit in me begins apologizing profusely in Korean while I bend down and frantically collect all the lost food items scattered on the street floor. The man bends down and helps gather my shopping. "You don't need to apologize, It was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." His voice is low and husky, cold sounding but with a kind and  concerned undertone. I'm too busy trying to save my kimchi to look and him so when we both reach out for the same packet of seasoning and our hands touch it's like a cliche rom-com.

I look up and my heart skips a beat. Even with half his face covered you can tell this guy is a finer meal than any dish I could make. Heck he's finer a dish than anyone can make. He is dressed very stylishly, with an oversized black top, blue ripped jeans and black boots. He has dark, triangle shaped eyes with monolids and a fairly large black hat to compliment his black facemask. It is hard to see but I noticed a few surprising strands of bright blue hair poking out from under the hat. It takes me a minute to notice I am still touching his soft, cold hand until I jump from sheer shock at how easily I melted in front of him. He spoke again with that amazing deep voice I adore.

"Let me help you home, It's the least I can do"

I mean, who's going to say no to that? So after a purposefully weak attempt at talking him out of it, we begin to walk the remaining 6 minutes of my journey home.

"So, I assume you're not from around here?" The man asks, I realize he had a blunt, honest nature about him which I like. "What gave it away? It was the shoes wasn't it?" I reply in a joking manner, mainly to see if he finds me funny and what his laugh is like. His laugh is soft and breathy with a deep tone which I silently admire. "No I'm from England, I moved here a couple months ago." I guide him left to a path through a small park area. "Oh really? I didn't think you were American. Do you have family here or something?" Once again, his beautifully quizzical, curious nature draws me in. "No, I moved here because I love Korean culture, I don't really know anyone here." We turn out of the park and onto another, quiet street. "Well, now you know me!" I take a quick glimpse at him and can tell he is smiling under his facemask. I give him a smile back and then I realize "Oh my god, I haven't even introduced myself! My name is Cho Singsoon. Honestly I'm such a mess." I laugh and so does he. "I take it that isn't your birthname. If it is you must have really cool parents." he compliments my name: which makes me implode right then and there. "Unfortunately my English name is really difficult to pronounce. Maybe if you're lucky one day I might tell you it." A not-so-subtle hint I want to see him again.

"Oh, we're here." I walk to the front door of my flat and put my bags next to me: number 180a. I unlock the door and walk in, closely followed by the man. He follows me to my small, black and white kitchen and places his bags next to mine. "Do you want a drink or anything?" I ask, really hoping the man spends as much time as possible with me. "I wish I could but I'm late to my practice now so..." He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and I give him a smile of reassurance. "That's fine, I forgot you were going somewhere when I bumped into you. I'm glad I finally know someone in the country now!" He laughs and relaxes as I lead him to the door "I had fun meeting you Cho Singsoon" He puts emphasis on my name for comical effect but it makes my heart flutter. "Me too... wait! I don't know your name!" I love how much he laughs at my shocked attitude. "It's Yoongi, Min Yoongi."

And with that, He leaves the doorway and walks down the street.