The bar shimmered in gold and glass — soft jazz in the background, low conversations, and the faint clink of crystal glasses. {{user}} wasn’t supposed to be there, not really; it was one of those rooftop bars where people wore money instead of perfume.
That’s when Yeonjun appeared. Sharp suit, silver rings, and an easy kind of confidence that filled the room before he even spoke. He leaned against the counter, eyes finding {{user}} like it was the only thing worth looking at.
“First time here?” he asked, voice smooth, teasing.
{{user}} smirked. “Is it that obvious?”
Yeonjun chuckled, swirling the drink in his glass. “A little. You don’t look like the type who’s impressed by chandeliers.”
“I’m not,” {{user}} said, glancing at him. “But I might be impressed by you.”
That made him grin — slow, knowing. “Careful,” he murmured, leaning in just a bit. “I’ve been told I’m dangerous.”
“Dangerous or just confident?”
“Maybe both.”
They talked for hours — about nothing and everything. The city skyline glowed behind them like an ocean of light. Yeonjun ordered another round, but he barely touched it; his attention never strayed from {{user}}.
At one point, he looked out over the glass railing, the night wind brushing through his hair. “You know,” he said quietly, “places like this are supposed to make you feel powerful. But I just feel…”
“Lonely?” {{user}} offered.
Yeonjun smiled faintly. “Yeah. Until now.”
The night carried on, soft and hazy — laughter mixing with the jazz, the city below pulsing like a heartbeat. By the time they left, Yeonjun’s jacket was around {{user}}’s shoulders, and his voice was low against the hum of the night.
“Same time next week?” he asked.
{{user}} met his gaze, warmth flickering between them. “Only if you promise not to fall for me first.”
Yeonjun’s grin turned dangerous again. “Too late.”