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Bambam's POV
31st July, 3:18 pm
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"Huh?" I intone, my voice tinged with bewilderment.

"Huh?!" Lisa echos me.

"I mean, red or white or...other colours of flowers, you know!" She abruptly clarifies, giving the impression that her words were made up on the spot.

"Er...but don't you like the colour Yellow?" I press on, raising an eyebrow. She shifts her gaze away, avoiding eye contact, and starts looking around here and there- everywhere except in my direction.

"Yeah, that is why-" she interrupts herself suddenly, pausing to gather her thoughts, "That's why I don't want Yellow flowers. My house is already all yellow. So I wanted flowers of other colours to make a variation."

"Instead of going on about which colour would've been nicer, you should just thank me for the flowers," I tell her, scrunching up my face in mock disgust, forcefully bringing out my goofy side that I always do in situations like this.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks," she mumbles, her lips forming a slight pout in a mixture of embarrassment and awkwardness. She adds, "But you came all the way here just to give me this?"

"Nah, I was nearby when I bought this," I reply, pointing at the flowers.

A slightly awkward vibe settles in as we both come to a brief halt, maybe for a minute...or two. I seize that little pocket of time to just admire her without a word. As my gaze settles upon her, a serene smile graces my countenance. I unknowingly find myself drawn to the way sunlight dances upon her features, accentuating the delicate curve of her smile and the soft sweep of her lashes against her skin. Each glance she casts seems to be an invitation into a world of wonder, where her every expression reveals a different facet of her enchantment. At this very moment, I'm reminded of how fortunate I am to have her in my life.

And I'm reminded of another thing:  I should never lose her from my life due to any selfish motive.

"You should come up and join us," she exclaims enthusiastically, gesturing towards the building with her thumb.

I decline her invitation, saying, "Maybe next time," and give a wave as a parting gesture.

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Chanyeol's POV
31st July, 11:51  pm
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"Aren't you going to wash up?" Kyungsoo asks me from standing beside the door. Laying supine on my bed, drained of energy, I'm too tired to get up at this moment.

"Later. Or maybe not at all," I can't keep my eyes open anymore. Kyungsoo exhales quite loudly and leaves upon hearing that. I rub my eyes vigorously to stay awake and start seeing phosphenes as the result of rubbing too much. I'm sleepy; my head lolls and the muscles of my face relax, releasing the tension of the day. From my chest, comes the first guttural snore.

To unwind, I set 'I'll Be Yours' to play on Spotify but for some reasons unknown, your own song isn't really appealing when you're drowsy. I've never found it to be. I swiftly browse a random playlist, and it ends up adding to my confusion. Eventually, I make the choice to put the playlist on shuffle.

Despite the drowsiness, I strive to compose my nightly diary, a mental chronicle etched regardless of fatigue. It's a recollection of my everyday's occurrences, safeguarding my fleeting youth of struggle. Each moment, singular and irreplaceable, is worthy of remembrance, an irreplaceable chapter in the book of life.

Currently, I'm on a three days military leave. The military is incredibly tough, even more so than I had anticipated prior to undergoing the training. Despite hearing about Minseok hyung and Kyungsoo's experiences, enlisting still came as a significant shock and a major challenge.

On another note, it occurs to me that I'll need to return to the training camp tomorrow morning. I'll be resuming the basic training such as physical fitness drills, combat skills practice, weapons handling, tactical exercises, and et cetera et cetera. In just about five months of training, I've managed to adapt to them faster than I anticipated. It's surprising considering how my legs used to tremble at the mere thought of entering the camp. But, if I'm honest, the military remains exhausting, regardless of how resilient I might be. But I suppose that is some kind of emotional training as well.

But did I spend my time-off well? I headed home to my parents on the first day of my leave and stayed overnight to get some much-needed rest. I came here—at our dorm, yesterday evening and I've been here for over 24 hours now. Thanks to the refreshing rest, I was brimming with energy and had a great time with the members both yesterday and today. But again now, I'm drained. I should sleep well to prepare for tomorrow.

I hadn't realized any of the songs playing until 'On The Ground' by Rosé started. Her vocals are impressive. Thoughts of her bring me back to our encounter two days ago.

I burst out laughing all of a sudden like a lunatic, recalling the incident.

Wow, that was incredibly embarrassing. I'm sure she was just as embarrassed. Perhaps she'll feel embarrassed around me forever. It's seriously hilarious how she expected me to foot the bill. I could have, but why would I? We're only just acquaintances. Her misunderstanding had me malfunctioning for a moment there, even though I swiftly played it off as 'fine, that happens' to save her from embarrassment. Yet, it was endearing, to be honest. She had a charming innocence about her when she realized her mistake.

I can't help but burst into laughter as I replay that moment in my mind.

Meanwhile, the song 'On The Ground' fades out. At that very instant, I sit up and grab my phone. Exiting Spotify, I navigate to my contacts. Instead of searching, I scroll down because I don't remember what I saved her number with—q

uite embarrassing. However, I can argue it's justified since we exchanged numbers a very long time ago, right?

Found it. It's simply just 'Rosé-shhi' in Korean letters.

Then? One minute elapses, and then several more. I remain as still as a statue, my gaze fixed unwaveringly on the screen. My right thumb fidgets incessantly—drawing nearer to the message icon, reversing, approaching again, pulling back again...this pattern continues for several more minutes. Finally, I muster the courage to send a text to her without overthinking.

Just a little chat wouldn't be a problem, would it?

Me
Annyeonghaseyo
Rosé-shhi

The air is charged with anticipation as I fix my gaze upon the obsidian screen of my phone, my fingers tapping restlessly against the surface. Unsure of when she'll respond, I let out a sigh and sprawl on my bed, back to my previous position. But her reply surprisingly arrives sooner than expected. In a matter of moments, my device vibrates, and a surge of relief and excitement courses through me. I immediately grab the phone and unlock the device to find her message awaiting my attention. As my eyes scan the words she's written, a blend of curiosity washes over me.

Rosé-shhi
Yes but who are you?

Me

What do you mean?
You don't have my number saved?

Rosé-shhi
First just tell me who you are, will you?
And if you're just messing with me, don't. I'll take legal action.

Me
Rosé-shhi calm down
This is Chanyeol

Rosé-shhi
You got to be kidding me

Me
Do I seriously have to jog your memory about the incident at the YSL store two days back just to demonstrate that I'm really Chanyeol?

After sending my last text, I start thinking about whether what I said was morally okay. I regret it right after; my words might have embarrassed her and could even make her stop talking to me. I'm tempted to delete the message, but that might not be the best move either. Just as I suspected, she doesn't reply, leaving me waiting for a response for a long time. The longer the silence, the worse I feel. Then, when I'm feeling pretty hopeless, my phone buzzes. Finally, a notification. She surprises me again.

Rosé-shhi
Oppa seriously that's you?

Me
Yes

Rosé-shhi
But you didn't need to remind me of that though...

Me
Sorry I didhhgnztjooltsujbll

Rosé-shhi
Huh?

Me
fetvsavtjkooerkescvv
wsgtrjppl
ijkjvddrrysszxgss

"What the hell?!" I exclaim loudly. This phone suddenly started acting by itself and now the keyboard is completely frozen. I give the phone an irritated shake, as if that could somehow jolt it into proper functioning. Why did this have to occur just when things were crucial?

Maybe I didn't receive enough emotional training from my last 5 months of military. Because, my frustration boils over as I repeatedly tap on the phone screen, my brows furrowing and lips tightening into a scowl. With each unsuccessful attempt to type, my fingers tap harder and faster. An exasperated sigh escapes my lips, followed by muttered curses under my breath.

And for the third time, Rosé once again amazes me, arriving unexpectedly amid these weighty emotions that were engulfing me.

The phone rings and the screen flashes the name Rosé-shhi. It's an incoming call.

My eyes fixate on the screen, rendered momentarily speechless and taken aback. She's actually calling? The concept is difficult to fathom. After all this time, I believed sending a midnight text might be impolite, yet now she's the one reaching out with a call during these late hours. It's quite surprising. Perhaps, my tendency to overthink has been excessive. I push aside these thoughts and swiftly answer the call.

"Hello?" I hear her voice the moment I pick up. Her voice has a familiar sound.

"Yeobseyo?" I utter politely, sitting straight.
*"Yeobseyo" is a polite way to answer the phone in Korean. Similar to saying "Hello?" or "Is anyone there?" when picking up a call. [Origin - Hangul]

I hear her breathe out —seemingly a sigh of relief— before she inquires, "Is everything alright, oppa?"

"Yes...I just had a minor issue with my phone keyboard," I reply, my hand absently massaging my neck. After a brief pause, I continue, "You didn't need to make a call, though."

"Oh...nah it's fine. I kind of imagined you were in some kind of trouble," she responds swiftly, and then goes on, "Like there's a chance someone abducted you, and now they're making you message me to ask for ransom, so they won't do anything drastic in exchange..."

I can't help but chuckle at her wildly imaginative Oscar-worthy scenario, trying to muffle it with my hand so she won't hear. After my silent laughter subsides, I respond, "Thanks for the concern, but rest assured, that won't happen...and even if it did, why would they ask me to text you instead of my parents?"

"Umm," she pauses, seemingly delving into her thoughts to come up with a new imaginative Oscar-deserving scenario and there she goes, "Maybe they searched 'Park' on your phone and found my name, thinking I was somehow your family."

I struggle to suppress my chuckle once again, managing to respond in a playful tone, "But your number doesn't start with 'Park' on my phone."

"Oppa, it would be nice if you could quit laughing at my imaginative, innovative, and artistic mind," she retorts in a playful, lighthearted manner, before adding, "But, what name did you save my number with anyway?"

"Just your stage name," I respond, finally letting my mouth escape my grip.

"Oh," she responds.

"So..." I trail off, a bit uncertain about the next topic to broach and then suddenly get reminded of a question, "Did you not have my number saved by the way?

"It's half no and half yes. I did have it saved on my previous phone, which was around 4 years ago, I think. However, I didn't save it to my SIM card, so I lost your number when that phone broke," she clarifies.

"Oh, I see," I say with a momentary pause, "Speaking of names...did you notice this? The initialism for my name is identical to yours. Park Chanyeol, P-C-Y; Park Chaeyoung, P-C-Y."

"That's...whoa. I have to admit, that's seriously cool. How on earth did I never pick up on that before?" she exclaims, her surprise evident in her voice.

"Yep," I reply, a small laugh escaping me. Once more, the conversation hits a wall. An uncomfortable quietness settles in. I sense the air growing denser, wrapping around me, creating a dewy ambience.

"Well...oppa, would you be up for grabbing lunch sometime?" She questions, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. I can detect a trace of nervousness, but at least she's voicing her thoughts.

"I'd be thrilled to, honestly. But, just to remind you, I'm currently serving in the military. So, I'm afraid maybe not for the next year or so?" I gently decline her proposal while offering an explanation.

"But you mentioned being on leave...we can go grab a meal during your leave, can't we? I mean, I'd really want to show my gratitude for you letting go of that suit the other day, which allowed me to buy it," she explains in a nutshell.

"Well, you've got a point there. I'll be able to free up some time during my upcoming leave. But unfortunately, not this time around. I've got to head back to the training camp tomorrow morning," I convey.

"Ah, got it. No worries, oppa. Just give me a knock next time you're on leave. We can plan to go to a nice restaurant for a meal," she suggests. "But hold on, did you just say that you're heading back to the training camp in the morning?" She interjects suddenly.

"Yeah. Why?" I respond, a touch of confusion in my voice.

"What?! Oppa... It's way past midnight—no, even more, it's almost 1:30 a.m. now. You should get some rest," she exclaims, her concern almost sounding like a gentle scolding. Her words prompt me to jump. I lower my phone from my ear to confirm the time, and indeed, she's correct. It's nearly 1:30 in the morning.

"Aish, darn it! You're right. I didn't even realize how late it is. You should probably hang up now and I should go to bed as soon as possible," I say and then mentally start kind of regretting having spent so much time on this conversation.

"Okay. Wishing you all the best with your military training. See you soon someday," she wraps up neatly.

"Goodbye then," I respond.

"Goodbye," she adds, her voice trailing off as she ends the call.

I toss both the phone and myself onto the bed. Stretching out my arm, I switch off the solitary light that had been illuminating the entire room – my bedside lamp. I have to fall asleep immediately. I must manage to get a minimum of 3 hours of rest before I leave at dawn.

Damnit.