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Nari sat frozen.  

Was Yoongi referring to her?  The girl he loved?

The girl in the elevator hadn’t meant anything to him?  She’d been injured and needed a bandaid before he took her home?  She’d fallen into his arms accidentally?  Had Nari misunderstood everything?

She closed her eyes and tried to remember that night.  The look on Yoongi’s face.  The girl’s arms.  Had there been any blood?  But Nari couldn’t recall any of it.  She had spun around so fast that it had made her head spin.  She had refused to look at them again.  Convinced that Yoongi had been playing her.

But as her eyes opened and slid towards the man weeping in her bed, her heart flipped over violently in her chest.  There was a simple solution to all of Yoongi’s pain.  But it would require a huge leap of faith on her part.  She would have to believe who Yoongi said he was.  She would have to believe who his actions had always said he was.

She replayed it all in her head.  That first night.  The engagement ring stuck under his nose.  The jingle of the bell over the door as his ex-fiancé hurriedly exited the building.  Escaping from a sweet and sensitive man.  

The black coffee Nari had set at his elbow.  He’d drunk it all in three swallows.  His half-untouched glass of wine.  The scraping of chairs across the floor as he pulled them out prior to lifting them to rest on the tabletops.  The slosh of the mop water as he tried to mop a floor with half a bucket of water.  

Their first ride together in the elevator.  His noticing how her feet hurt.  His improvised poem about her name.  

Nari…a peerless lily.  

His intense gaze.  The offer of his hand to assist her in rising from the floor.  The lightning strike his fingers released into her own.  His insistence upon following her to her apartment. Just to return her old shoes.

The threat of tossing an entire steaming bowl of bibimbap in the Neanderthal’s lap.  The insistence that he leave her a healthy tip to pay for putting his hand where it didn’t belong.  

…she is priceless…be generous.

The heavenly shoes.  And the admission that her pained feet hurt him.  His love of the coffee she brought him.  The discovery that they were born within twenty-four hours of each other.  

His invitation to dinner.  And to a basketball game.  The introduction to Yoongi’s friends – like she was someone precious.  Someone who mattered to him.  The dinner.  The trinity of desserts.  

His patting the bench next to him when she asked to sit near him.   That invisible cord.  His eyes of fire.  His enticing words.

…come sit with me.

Yoongi feeding her lemon tart with his long, slender fingers.  The feel of his lips as her own fingers grazed them when she’d fed him a little wedge.  His delight in the dessert she’d picked for him.

Defending her choice of job when his own appa had insulted her.  Brushing his nose along the bridge of hers while she melted in his arms.  Sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her so she wouldn’t cut her bare feet on broken glass.  

And then today.  Following her to her apartment again.  Rubbing her feet.  Until she fell asleep?  Carrying her to her bed.  Tucking her in?  Making her an amazing dinner.  

How could she not believe in Yoongi?  His was a beautiful soul.  She must have been blind not to see it before.  

Nah.  

She’d seen it.  She had just been too afraid to believe in it.  She didn’t want to get hurt again.  

Just then, another sob escaped his lips.  

So, instead, Yoongi was the one suffering.  She’d hurt him.  This sweet and sensitive heart.  This beautiful man with the glowing eyes.  She’d broken his heart.  And shoved him away.

She reached out tentatively to touch him.  She rested her fingers on his shoulder. 

“Pick me,” she whispered.