Chapter Text
Hyuna was excited. In truth, excited was an understatement. She was screaming with joy inside her own head, her leg bouncing relentlessly as she drove toward the bridal shop. A wide smile stretched across her lips, one she made no effort to hide. Beside her, in the passenger seat, sat her beloved fiancé, the boy who had asked her to marry him barely three weeks ago, and in the back seat, her best man. Her twin, of course. She had other bridesmaids, naturally, Mizi, Sua, and a few others… but there had never been any doubt as to who would stand closest to her. Hyunwoo had claimed that place long before the wedding was even an idea.
When he had learned of the engagement, he had thrown the most immature tantrum Hyuna had ever witnessed from him. And that was saying something. She had seen him throw fits before, truly spectacular ones, the kind that made him look far more like a petulant child than the adult he was supposed to be. Well. Almost an adult. They had both turned eighteen that year, after all. And Luka, clearly, had wasted no time. Not that Hyuna was surprised. She had always known that her blond would seize the very first opportunity to make her his wife the moment the law allowed it. The brunette knew that her brother had always hoped she would one day notice just how strange and intense Luka was, and that, eventually, she would leave him because of it. Now, it wasn’t that Hyuna was blind or unaware of how possessive her future husband could be, (future husband, a title that made her want to scream with excitement every time she thought of it) It was simply that she found those traits of his deeply endearing. Luka wasn’t bad. She would know if he were. He had simply been raised in a way that taught him to fear loss intensely, to cling desperately to the things he loved. He lacked boundaries. He didn’t socialize well. More often than not, he genuinely failed to understand why certain things he said or did were considered wrong. And Hyuna knew, truly knew, that none of it was his fault.
So she would explain it to him. As she always did. Patiently, gently, with all the love in the world. And her Luka would smile, nod, and press a soft, sweet kiss to her lips. Did that mean Luka understood why it was wrong? Yes. Did it mean Luka would stop doing it? No. But he was unbearably adorable, and Hyuna simply could not stay angry with him for very long and Hyunwoo simply could not tolerate that about her. But it was fine. He would have to accept Luka eventually. And she, inevitably, would have to make Luka more tolerant, more receptive, toward her brother. After all, she couldn’t place all the blame on Hyunwoo. Her fiancé was… complicated. Luka had noticed it, of course. He always did. He had learned that Hyuna tended to pay him more attention when it seemed as though the conflict had been started by the younger one. So he adapted. He would pick fights with her brother deliberately, carefully choosing his words until Hyunwoo finally snapped. And Hyunwoo was painfully easy to anger. All Luka had to do was push, just enough, until the younger twin lost his temper and felt the urge to hit him. Then Hyuna would intervene. Always. Instinctively. To protect her boyfriend, smaller, thinner, and seemingly far more fragile than Hyunwoo ever was. And Luka learned, very quickly, that this outcome was almost guaranteed.
So the younger one sat in the back seat, wearing a thoroughly displeased expression. Beside him, Luka was radiant, visibly thrilled about the day ahead. And she was excited too. Yes, she knew it wasn’t customary for the groom to see the wedding dress beforehand, but she and Luka were not superstitious. She wanted his approval, even though she was certain he would think every single dress looked wonderful on her. He had confessed it to her the night before, with the most adorable pout, that he wanted to see her dress in advance. And well, Hyunwoo had wanted to come too. Luka hadn’t seemed bothered by it, so, with the hope, or perhaps the naïve belief, that they might interact in a healthy, civil way while she tried on dresses, Hyuna had agreed without hesitation.
They finally arrived, and Hyuna parked without any trouble. There had been no traffic at all. It was, unmistakably, shaping up to be the perfect day. The three of them got out of the car, Hyuna and Luka walking ahead of Hyunwoo as they entered the shop. It was ridiculously expensive by Hyuna’s standards, but Luka had insisted these were the finest dresses available, that he wanted nothing but the best for her. He had even admitted, almost shyly, that he had chosen this particular boutique after their second date. Nearly four years ago. Adorable.
The brunette found herself marveling the moment she stepped inside. The shop was small, intimate, and nearly empty. A tall woman approached them, blonde, blue-eyed, unnervingly striking in a way that felt almost inhuman, wearing the most unsettling smile Hyuna had ever seen.
“Mr. Heperov,” the woman said smoothly, “we’ve been expecting you.”
Luka simply nodded in response.
Then the woman’s eyes shifted to Hyuna. Her smile didn’t change, remaining hollow, vacant, and suddenly Hyuna was reminded of every movie she’d ever seen about aliens pretending to be human.
“Future Mrs. Heperov, I presume?”
“Or Luka could simply take our last name,” Hyunwoo’s mocking voice echoed from behind her.
Hyuna couldn’t help but laugh. She was already on edge because of the woman’s demeanor, and the nervous laughter slipped out before she could stop it, though it quickly turned genuine when she saw Luka nod, completely unbothered. She knew he wouldn’t have any issue changing his surname. Not even for a second.
Hyuna turned just in time to catch the woman’s smile falter, only briefly. The smallest crack. And somehow, that brought her relief. A trace of humanity, at last. Feeling steadier, she spoke again.
“I’m Hyuna. Nice to meet you! I’d like to see the dresses, if you don’t mind”
At last, they followed the woman into a spacious room at the back of the shop. It was lavish, almost excessively so. White seats lined the walls, wrapping around the entire room, and in the center stood a narrow runway, a curtain hanging behind it. The alien saleswoman, as Hyuna had already decided to call her, gestured for Luka and Hyunwoo to take their seats, before guiding Hyuna behind the curtains into a separate dressing area. There, dozens upon dozens of dresses awaited her. Hyuna found herself completely surrounded by white. That was when the nerves hit. She had never been a girl for elegant gowns or formalwear. She preferred light clothes, jeans, short skirts, cropped tops. How was she supposed to know what suited her best? What was appropriate? What was right?
The blonde woman watched her intently, eyes sharp and calculating. She would look Hyuna up and down, turn away to gather several dresses over one arm, then turn back to study her again before selecting even more. At one point, Hyuna could have sworn she saw a dress made of feathers. She felt a flicker of disgust at the thought. Then, without addressing her at all, the woman guided her into an enormous fitting room. She set the dresses down and simply left. Just like that.
Still uncomfortable, Hyuna looked over the selected gowns. Some of them were downright horrifying, the kind you see in comedies about obscenely rich people. She picked up one that covered her completely: neck, arms, everything. She set it aside immediately. Just the thought of putting it on made her feel suffocated. The next one was better. A corset-style bodice, with a long mermaid skirt. She decided to try it on. With some difficulty, she managed to slip into it. The woman had somehow gotten her size exactly right. Which was… unsettling.
Hyuna looked at herself in the mirror, nerves tightening in her chest. She had never been insecure about her appearance, not really. But she was insecure about presenting herself as something delicate. She could be feminine, yes, but in a way that was confident, sensual, self-assured. But shy. Princess-like? Those roles had never fit her. Clothes like this made her anxious.
Wouldn’t she look like a cheap imitation of purity?
Her eyes filled with tears.
No. Shit. This was not the moment for stupid insecurities.
She wiped her eyes roughly. She had always been the cool one, the girl who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty, who wasn’t ladylike or delicate like Sua, who looked like a porcelain doll, or Mizi, who carried herself like a princess without even trying. Hyuna had always been something else entirely. She was brute strength, confidence seeping through every pore, tall, solid, self-assured. She had learned to defend herself from a very young age. For years, she had even been taller than Hyunwoo. Which, of course, had only earned her more mockery at school.
She looked at herself in the mirror again. What if she wore a suit instead? She knew Luka would be completely fine with it, more than fine, even, but… he would know. He always knew when something was wrong with her. And he would postpone the wedding until she talked, until she said it out loud.
Hyuna let out a slow breath.
She wanted a dress. She wanted to be able to be delicate. To look like that without overthinking how masculine she seemed, or whether people would mock her for trying to be something she wasn’t. That was what hurt the most.
"Screw it," she whispered, her voice rough in the quiet room.
She wiped the corner of her eye with a knuckle, careful not to smudge the minimal makeup she wore. She was Hyuna. She didn't hide. If she looked ridiculous, she would own it, laugh about it, and then find a suit that made her look like a hitman. That was the plan. She reached out, grabbed the heavy velvet curtain, and ripped it open. The light in the main showroom was brighter, unforgiving. Hyuna stepped out onto the start of the narrow runway. The dress hugged her ribs, her waist, her hips, restricting her stride, forcing her to walk slower than usual. She felt exposed. She felt like an impostor.
She stopped at the edge of the platform and looked down at them.
"Well?" she challenged, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "Do I look stupid? Be honest."
Silence stretched in the room.
Hyunwoo had frozen mid-motion, a water bottle halfway to his mouth. He blinked, once, twice. The sarcasm that usually rested on his tongue seemed to have dissolved. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a second, he just looked like a little brother realizing his twin was actually growing up.
"You..." Hyunwoo started, then cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. "You don't look stupid, Noona. It’s... yeah. It's good, like a princess"
But it was Luka who mattered.
Luka hadn't moved. He sat perfectly still, his hands gripping the armrests of the white chair so hard his knuckles were translucent. He wasn't smiling. There was no polite, groom-to-be pleasantry on his face.
He looked devastated.
His eyes, usually half-lidded or drifting, were wide and dark, fixed on her with a frightening intensity. He scanned her from the hem of the mermaid skirt up to her bare shoulders, and finally, her eyes. He looked as if he were witnessing a religious event. Slowly, as if pulled by a string, Luka stood up. He ignored the saleswoman, who had stepped forward to adjust the train of the dress. He walked right up to the edge of the runway, stopping just inches from where Hyuna stood elevated above him.
"I..." Hyuna’s confidence faltered under his gaze. She shifted her weight, feeling the heavy fabric pull. "Is it too much? I feel like I'm playing dress-up."
"No," Luka breathed. The word came out like a prayer. He reached out, his pale hand hovering just inches from her waist, trembling slightly, as if he were afraid that touching her would burn him. "You do not look like a princess, Hyuna," he murmured, his voice low, meant only for her.
Hyuna’s stomach dropped. I knew it.
"You look like a Goddess," Luka continued, his eyes burning into hers. "You look powerful. Gorgeous." A small, unstable smile touched his lips, his gaze dropping to the curve of her hips before snapping back to her eyes. "You look like you could crush the world in that dress. It is.... It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
He looked up at her, completely unconcerned with the saleswoman watching or Hyunwoo gagging in the background.
"I want to marry you right now," Luka said, his voice dropping to a possessive growl. "Take it off. We are leaving. I want to buy it, but I cannot stand anyone else seeing you in it for another second."
From the sofa, Hyunwoo groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands. "Oh my god, please stop. I’m begging you. Just buy the damn dress so we can go."
“Do you really think this is the right one?” Hyuna asked, feeling the hot tears ruin her makeup as they slipped down her face.
Luka looked at her, mildly surprised. He reached up and wiped her tears away, and Hyuna could feel his fingers against her skin, cold, always cold.
“Well, Hyuna,” he said softly, “I’m not the one who gets to decide. If you’re not sure, try on more.” He paused only briefly before adding, with absolute certainty, “Though I’d buy this one too. You look beautiful. And I’m afraid I wouldn’t think any differently seeing you in other dresses. You always look gorgeous, no matter what you wear.”
And he meant every word of it.
Hyuna let out a shaky breath, leaning her cheek briefly against his cold palm before pulling back. She looked at him, really looked at him. There was no deception in his pale eyes, no polite social fiction. Just that terrifying, bottomless adoration that sometimes made her feel like she was the only person left on Earth.
"You're useless," she choked out, a wet, rough laugh escaping her throat. "You're supposed to be critical. You're supposed to tell me if my shoulders look too broad."
"Your shoulders are perfect," Luka answered instantly, his tone flat, as if stating a law of physics. "They are strong. I like them. They are the shoulders that carry me."
Hyuna turned to look at her brother. Hyunwoo had lowered his water bottle. He wasn't looking at Luka with his usual disdain; he was looking at her. His expression was uncharacteristically serious, stripped of the mockery he used as armor.
"You don't look like a guy in a dress, Hyuna," Hyunwoo said, cutting right to the heart of the insecurity she hadn't even voiced aloud. "You look... beautiful" He shrugged, feigning indifference again, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "It’s not ugly at all. I hate to agree with the creep, but... yeah. You look good."
Hyuna felt a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill, but she swallowed them down. That was it. That was the seal of approval she hadn't realized she was desperate for. Luka would think she looked beautiful in a trash bag. But Hyunwoo? Hyunwoo would tell her if she looked ridiculous. She turned back to the mirror. The fabric hugged her powerful thighs, the corset cinched her waist, she didn't look like a delicate flower. She looked like a woman who could hold her own. She looked like someone who could protect her husband just as fiercely as he protected her.
"Okay," she whispered. She wiped her face again, smearing a bit of mascara, but she didn't care. A genuine grin broke through the tears. "Okay. I think... I think I like this one."
"We'll take it," Luka announced immediately, turning to the saleswoman who had been hovering silently like a ghost in the corner.
"Excellent choice," the woman said, stepping forward, her smile still unnervingly fixed. "Shall we try a veil, or perhaps-"
"We will take this one," Luka interrupted, his voice calm but firm. Then, he paused, his head tilting slightly to the side as a thought occurred to him. He looked back at the rack of dresses Hyuna had rejected, the ballgowns, the A-lines, the ones she hadn't even tried on. "Actually... pack them all."
Hyuna’s eyes widened. "Luka, no."
"But you didn't try them," Luka reasoned, looking at her with wide, innocent eyes. "What if you decide later you want a different silhouette for the reception? Or for dinner? Or just to wear at home for me?"
"I am not wearing a wedding dress in the house, Luka!" Hyuna laughed, the sound loud and bright, finally chasing away the heavy atmosphere in the room. She grabbed his lapels and pulled him down for a quick, hard kiss. "Just this one. Don't be silly."
Luka blinked, his lips tingling from the contact. He looked at the dresses, then back at her, clearly struggling with the concept of not giving her everything within his line of sight. He looked genuinely distressed by the idea of leaving the store without purchasing its entire inventory for her.
"Fine," he conceded, though he looked pained. "Just the one. For now."
After a while, they found themselves waiting for the woman to return, the dress already chosen and being properly packed somewhere out of sight. The room felt quieter now. Almost suspended in time. The saleswoman, seemingly materializing out of thin air again, returned carrying a long, sheer length of fabric.
"And perhaps," she suggested, her voice smooth as glass, "a veil to complete the silhouette?"
Hyuna held it up. It was exquisite, a cascading waterfall of tulle and Chantilly lace, so fine it looked less like fabric and more like a captured piece of morning mist. It was delicate. Insanely, painfully delicate. She reached out to touch the hem, her rougher, calloused fingers grazing the impossible softness. It was beautiful, undeniably. But as she held the sheer material, her eyes drifted past her own reflection in the mirror and landed on Luka, who was sitting patiently on the white sofa, watching her with that intense, unblinking devotion.
He was wearing a light-colored shirt today, the top button undone, exposing the pale column of his throat. His blond hair fell softly over his forehead, framing a face that often looked too pretty to be real.
And suddenly, the image in Hyuna’s mind shifted.
She didn't see the veil on herself.
In her mind's eye, she saw Luka. She imagined him standing at the altar, not in a traditional black boring tuxedo, but in an immaculate white suit, sharp, tailored, pristine. And draped over his golden hair, was this veil.
The image hit her with the force of a physical blow.
She imagined the lace casting intricate, spiderweb shadows over his pale features. She imagined him looking up at her through the sheer tulle, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with adoration, waiting for her to lift the fabric and claim him. He wouldn't look ridiculous. He wouldn't look funny. He would look... divine. Like a biblical angel caught in a net, or some beautiful, fragile deity that she, and only she, was allowed to touch.
The thought was so vivid, so unexpectedly erotic, that a furious heat rushed straight to Hyuna’s face, burning the tips of her ears. God, he is so pretty, she thought, her heart doing a traitorous little flip in her chest. She must have been staring, or perhaps her sudden flush had betrayed her, because Luka tilted his head to the side, his expression shifting to one of mild concern.
"Hyuna?" he asked, his voice soft. He stood up, drawn to her distress like a moth to a flame. "What is wrong? Do you not like it? Is the fabric scratching you?"
He reached out, his cool fingers brushing against her burning cheek, checking her temperature. The contrast of his cold touch against her hot skin only made the image in her head flare brighter, Luka, in white, veiled and waiting.
"I... no," Hyuna stammered, clearing her throat and desperately trying to banish the mental image of her fiancé as a blushing bride. She quickly dropped the veil back into the saleswoman's hands as if it were on fire. "No, it's... it's beautiful. Really."
"You are red," Luka noted, his brows knitting together. He looked at the veil with sudden suspicion, as if the inanimate object had insulted her. "Did it upset you?"
"No!" Hyuna laughed, a little too loud, a little too manic. She couldn't tell him. She absolutely could not tell him that she was currently fantasizing about dressing him up like a doll. "I just... it’s hot in here. The lights. Very bright."
From the couch, Hyunwoo squinted at her. "You're weird," he muttered, taking a sip of his water. "Both of you. Just buy the net and let's go."
Hyuna looked back at Luka, who was still studying her face with worry, completely oblivious to the fact that he was the most beautiful thing in the room.
"We'll take it," Hyuna said quickly, avoiding eye contact. She needed to get out of there before she asked him to try it on. "Definitely taking it."
The transaction was as swift as it was surreal. Luka produced a sleek, black card from his pocket, the kind made of metal that made a satisfying thud when placed on the glass counter. He didn't ask for the total. He didn't even look at the register. He simply stared at the large, pristine white box that now contained the dress and the veil, guarding it as if it contained a human organ he needed for a transplant.
Hyunwoo, who had leaned over to peek at the small digital screen on the register, made a choking sound. He coughed violently, pounding his chest.
"Are you dying?" Luka asked, sounding hopeful.
"That’s..." Hyunwoo wheezed, pointing a shaking finger at the machine. "That’s the price of a car. A nice car. A car that works and has heated seats."
"And Hyuna is worth a fleet of them," Luka said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand as he picked up the enormous box. He refused to let the shop assistant carry it to the door. He barely let Hyuna touch the handle of the door itself.
Walking out of the boutique felt like stepping out of a pressurized airlock. The cool air of the street hit them, and Hyuna exhaled a breath she felt she’d been holding for two hours.
"I hate that place," Hyunwoo declared, inhaling the exhaust-scented air of the street like it was fresh mountain breeze. "I’m never going back. If you get divorced and remarry, do not invite me to the dress fitting."
"I will never divorce her," Luka said. He was walking beside Hyuna, matching her stride perfectly, the massive box tucked under one arm as if it weighed nothing. "And she will never divorce me. So you are safe, brother-in-law."
"Don't call me that," Hyunwoo muttered, though there was no real venom in it anymore. The shock of the price tag seemed to have numbed him into submission.
They reached the car. Hyuna popped the trunk, and Luka carefully, almost reverently, placed the dress inside. He adjusted it three times to ensure it wouldn't slide during the drive. When he finally closed the trunk and turned back to her, Hyuna felt that strange flutter in her belly again. The image of him in the veil was still seared into her retinas. It was dangerous. Now that the thought had taken root, it was growing vines, wrapping around her imagination.
He would let me, she realized with a sudden jolt of clarity. If I asked him. If I told him it would make me happy, he would let me drape that lace over his head and he would kneel and let me look at him.
The power of that realization made her knees weak.
"Hyuna?" Luka was in front of her again, blocking her view of the street. His hands came up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. His expression was serious, intense. "You are quiet. You are still red."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, ignoring Hyunwoo who was already climbing into the back seat.
"Did I embarrass you inside?" Luka asked, his eyes searching hers. "With the... 'Goddess' comment? I can apologize to your brother if it makes you comfortable. I will not mean it, but I can say the words."
Hyuna laughed, shaking her head. She reached up and covered his hands with hers. They were so different, his pale and slender, hers tanned. "No, Luka. You were perfect," she said, and she meant it. She stood on and pressed a kiss to his forehead, right between his brows, smoothing out the worry lines there. "I was just thinking... we have the veil now."
"Yes?" Luka blinked, confused.
"And," Hyuna lowered her voice, a playful, predatory glint entering her eyes that made Luka’s breath hitch, "since I’ve already tried on the dress... maybe we need to make sure the veil... fits the aesthetic. Tonight."
Luka didn't understand. Not fully. But he saw the look in her eyes, that confident, possessive spark he worshipped, and he nodded immediately.
"Whatever you want, Hyuna," he breathed. "Anything."
"Get in the car, you weirdos!" Hyunwoo shouted from the back seat, rolling down the window. "I’m hungry! If we don’t get food in the next ten minutes, I’m eating the leather seats!"
Hyuna grinned, patting Luka’s cheek before pulling away. "You heard the man. Let’s go feed the beast."
Luka watched her walk to the driver's side, his gaze lingering on her silhouette. He touched the spot on his forehead where she had kissed him, a small, dazed smile breaking onto his face. He didn't know what she was planning with the veil. He didn't care. As long as she was the one looking at him, he would endure anything.
He opened the passenger door and slid in, already looking forward to whatever "fitting" she had in mind.