⋆｡‧˚ʚ (non demon AU) ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Bangkok didn’t sleep, and neither did the streets. Between tuk-tuk engines growling down the lanes and glowing signs written in heatstroke neon, the city buzzed like it was wired straight into your skin. Somewhere in the crowd, you and Jinu were doing a terrible job of being inconspicuous.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” he muttered, tugging his hood lower and adjusting his mask with the same energy as someone dodging sniper fire. “You look like a fashion editorial just walked off a billboard. And I—” he gestured vaguely at himself, “—look like a washed-out trainee trying to get ramen at 3 a.m.”

You raised a brow. He shrugged. "Which would be fine if I wasn't Jinu from Saja Boys, apparently."

A burst of laughter from behind made him stiffen. His eyes flicked sideways—three girls were rounding the corner, one already holding her phone up like it could smell a headline. Jinu didn’t think. He cursed under his breath, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a side alley without so much as a warning.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, panting as the two of you ducked behind an abandoned fruit cart. “I just saved your face from being retweeted ten thousand times with a filter that makes us both look like ghosts.”

You didn’t reply. He looked over, catching his breath, and cracked a grin.

“Don’t say it. I know. I panicked. Very gracefully, though.”

The alley was tight, the walls close, the air still heavy from daytime heat. He leaned back against the bricks, hands on his knees, trying to look like someone who definitely hadn’t just sprinted away from three teenage girls.

“You really are fast,” he said. “Like—scary fast. I didn’t know models had to train like special ops.”

A beat passed. He looked at you again, the grin fading just a little, but not the honesty in his eyes.

“Look. I know this wasn’t smart. I know we’re not supposed to be out here, and I’m definitely getting a lecture when we get back.”

He scratched the back of his neck. His voice dropped a little, quiet but firm.

“But if the options are: one, sit in a hotel room watching reruns of Inkigayo, or two, get chased through Bangkok with you under sketchy streetlights and the threat of exposure… I’m picking this.”

He said it without flinching, without fluff. Just that blunt, simple truth he was known for.

“And yeah. We almost got caught. Would’ve sucked. But whatever.”

He looked at you fully then, expression stripped of the sarcasm, just the honest weight of someone who never said more than he meant.

“I’d still do it again. Just to be with you. For a night like this.”