#it's never outside said to be romantic but...come on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heethera · 16 hours ago

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˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

➜ summary: jay’s always had everything. you were just the girl who followed him around until you became the one thing he couldn’t let go.

pairing: pjs x f!reader, wc: 16k words , genre: best friends to lovers, rich!jay, fluff, a wee lil angst w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

When you were eight, your pet fish died. Jay, being the perfect friend, snuck out of his house, hoodie zipped up to his nose, and stood outside your door with a juice box and a Pokémon sticker. He didn’t say anything, just left them there with a note that read: “U ken yoos the stikr four yur dairi.”

He wasn’t the best speller, but he was the best friend you could ever ask for.

When you were thirteen, you stayed up until 3 a.m. on the phone, ranting about how some snotty new transfer from Australia, Sim Jaeyun said your feet looked “weirdly shaped.” Jay spent an hour trying to convince you that Jaeyun had a thumb that looked like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and couldn’t tell a mermaid from a fish so he didn’t deserve to have opinions.

When you turned seventeen, Jay gave you his favourite hoodie before flying to Seattle for a month to visit his relatives. You wore it religiously while he was gone, just to feel a little closer to him.

And till now somehow, Jay still orbited your everyday life.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up, eyes fixed on some game playing on the TV.

“I wasn’t even supposed to come today.”

“But you did,” he replied, finally turning to glance at you. His grin was lazy, a little smug. “Couldn’t stay away from The Jonginator 3000.”

“Gross,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Please never call yourself ever that again.”

You crossed the room and dropped onto the other end of the couch, knees curling up beside you as your shoulder brushed his. Jay made space for you without saying anything.

“Here,” you muttered, digging through your tote bag and tossing a bag of chips his way.

He caught it one-handed. “Oh, how you spoil me.”

“Well, that’s because you’re unbearable when you’re hungry.”

“And equally as charming when I’m full,” he added with a wink.

You bit back a smile, tilting your head with mock thoughtfulness. “Hm… I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate,” you said.

You liked to believe your friendship with Jay could weather even the strongest storms but lately, you weren’t so sure.

It wasn’t that anything had gone terribly wrong.

It was quieter than that. Slightly more subtle? Things had just… started to change. Not in ways you could clearly name, but in the little things.

You and Jay were friends. Best of friends, even.

Your mum had worked for his family for almost a decade, taking care of his grandmother, the same woman you’d come to call Grandma, too. Jay never minded. His grandmother never corrected you. If anything, she loved it. Jay was an only child, and without a granddaughter of her own, she’d folded you into her life without hesitation.

His family had always been kind. They treated your mum with respect, and you never felt looked down on.

But lately, something had started to shift. Nothing harsh or particularly cruel. Just… small things, little things you were starting to piece together.

Maybe it was the way people talked about the future now about colleges, cities, careers. Plans that didn’t involve waking up in your childhood bedroom. Plans that didn’t include walking into Jay’s room, knocking once before flopping onto his bed to rant about terrible Netflix documentaries you’d force him to watch.

But most of all, they were plans that didn’t include both of you.

Maybe it was the realisation that Jay was heading somewhere you couldn’t afford to follow.

And maybe Jay was starting to realise that too.

You loved him. Almost too much. You didn’t like putting a label on it. Romantic, platonic, it didn’t matter. All you knew was that he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, and he made you smile when you were knee-deep in anger.

And losing that? Losing him? Somehow, that scared you more than anything.

You’d left for the bathroom a little over five minutes ago, but it took nearly three just to get back to Jay’s room.

You were about to push open the door, fully prepared to return and absolutely obliterate him in the game you’d been playing, when you heard a voice.

“Baby,” his mum said gently.

You froze. Your hand hovered just above the doorknob. Something about her tone stopped you. It sounded serious… a little too serious for you to barge in like nothing.

So you didn’t.

You stayed where you were, just outside his door, waiting for the right moment to step in.

“Mom, I’m not going,” Jay said. You could hear the sound of him ruffling his hair, followed by a long sigh.

His mum exhaled softly. “Jong, it’s a tradition. The family went there. I went there. You—”

“I’m not going,” he repeated, firmer this time.

There was a pause.

“If this is about…” she began before letting out a deep breath. “Look, I love her. You know I do. I treat her like a daughter too, but baby, this is a big deal. You have one foot in the door and you’re throwing it all away?”

“Mom—”

“No, listen to me.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You can always come back to her, but this… this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

A long stretch of silence followed, thick and heavy, before she spoke again, softer now but still thick with tension.

“I’m not saying she isn’t good for you. She is. She’s smart, she’s pretty. She’s… kind. But do you really think the two of you have anything in common besides growing up together?”

Oh. Oh. Oh…

So this was how they saw you: not bad, not unworthy…just not enough. Not for him.

“Baby,” she said, “the two of you are on different paths and…well, Jong, you were meant for greater things. Big things.”

Through the small crack in the doorframe, you caught a glimpse of Jay, sitting on the edge of his bed, brows furrowed, elbows resting on his knees. He wasn’t answering. He looked like he was thinking about it.

That hurt more than anything.

You backed away quietly, each step careful, like even your breath might give away that you had been listening. When you reached the top of the stairs, you glanced down at your feet, your socks, mismatched and worn. They had never felt like such a statement before. And now, in this house, with its icy cold Italian marble floors, they felt impossibly…prominent.

You were rushing toward the door when something made you pause. The second living room, the one you’d always walked past, never into. You turned, just a little, just enough to see it.

The walls were lined with frames. Studio portraits of Jay and his parents, always dressed to the nines, always looking like they belonged on the cover of some high-society magazine. There were formal family shots with his extended relatives, his cousins in their prep school uniforms, their parents with Rolexes and pearl earrings, champagne glasses in hand at some gala that probably changed the world without you knowing.

Then your eyes landed on the final frame tucked in the corner.

Jay, standing beside the minister at a government scholarship ceremony. A navy suit that fit him too well. His parents beaming on either side of him. The plaque in his hand gleaming. You remembered that day vaguely, he had texted you something self-deprecating about tripping on stage. You had laughed then.

You weren’t laughing now.

Because all of it somehow was starting to feel like a mockery of just how different your worlds really were. There was a bitter sting in your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was jealousy over a life you’d never live, or the ache of knowing someone you liked so much came from a place you could never quite reach.

While Jay had birthday dinners at restaurants you didn’t even know existed, yours were made of takeout leftovers and cakes baked in a neighbor’s oven. Jay had a whole wall of proof that he belonged. And all the while, you didn’t even have matching socks.

—

Jay: Did you just leave? Without saying goodbye? 🙁

You didn’t reply.

You were too deep in your own spiral…spinning, crashing, drowning in thoughts you didn’t ask to think. His mom had been right. About everything.

She hadn’t been cruel. She hadn’t even sounded angry. Just… honest. Like a mother trying to protect her son from making a mistake. And maybe you were the mistake. You knew she liked you. You knew the whole family did. But that didn’t change the fact that you’d always been her daughter, the caregiver’s daughter. Not one of them. Not really.

And for the first time in your life, you felt it, not just the distance, but the pity. Ten years of your mom’s hard work, all the quiet pride she carried, all the long nights and it suddenly felt like none of it mattered. You were just the tagalong. A nice girl with nowhere better to be.

You were never someone in that house. You were just... there.

Your phone lit up again.

Jay: I’m coming over.

Your eyes flew open. “Damn it–” you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie.

You: Don’t.

Jay: Huh?

You: I’m fine.

Jay: But you left so soon?

You: I had to take a shit so I left.

There was a pause.

Jay: I have a bathroom, you idiot.

You: It’s too fancy. I like mine better.

Jay: LOL well at least say goodbye next time. I went around the house like an idiot looking for you for 10 whole minutes.

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering. You wanted to say more.

But you didn’t want him to pity you too.

—

Jungwon stood beside you, rhythmically tapping two fingers against your back, drumming out a song only he could hear. You hunched forward at the front desk, shoulders tense, chin propped against your palm as you glared at the dusty computer monitor displaying your completely empty Tuesday schedule.

You part timed at Goober Galaxy, an indoor playground targeted for kids ages 3 and up. Today was quiet. It was the perfect shift for a breakdown. Unfortunately, Jungwon hadn’t gotten the memo.

You swatted his hand away without even turning around. “Cut it out.”

He laughed, and leaned over the counter so that his chin now rested on his folded arms beside yours. “I’m bored,” he declared, eyes scanning your blank expression.

“Then go find something to do.”

“I like bothering you,” he said with a smile.

You turned to glare at him, grabbing the nearest pencil and holding it up like a weapon. “I’ll stab you with this.”

“Ooh, how scary,” he said, grinning wider.

“Shut up.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as sharp as it did. Jungwon blinked, his smile faltering just a little but only for a second. You dropped the pencil back onto the desk and folded your arms, slumping deeper into your chair. You’d been like this all day: distracted, fogged over, stuck in your own head with thoughts of you and Jay.

It’d been two days since you left Jay’s house without saying goodbye. Two days since you’d heard his mother’s voice echoing in the hallway, reminding him that people like you didn’t belong in their world.

He’d been texting you ever since. But every time your phone lit up with his name, your heart clenched so hard it made you nauseous. You couldn’t answer. Not when you didn’t know how to exist next to him without feeling small.

You didn’t realize Jungwon had moved until he dropped onto the beanbag beside your stool with a dramatic huff, his legs splayed out in front of him, head tilted toward you.

“Okay,” he said, “seriously. Who is it?”

You didn’t answer.

“Come on,” he continued, tapping his foot against your shoe. “Tell the master of Women who has you acting up like this.”

“I highly doubt you even know what a woman is.”

You let out a breath through your nose and glanced at him. Jungwon’s dark hair tousled from where he’d been running his hand through it, polo shirt wrinkled, name tag barely hanging on. He was annoying and loud. But he was also one of the only people who understood what it meant to want more than you were allowed to have. You both had jobs instead of highly paid tutors, worn-out sneakers instead of new ones, savings goals that felt like they’d never be reached.

He didn’t know what was wrong. Not exactly. But he knew enough to ask.

Still, your voice caught in your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud: I overheard Jay’s mom say I don’t belong in his world and I think she’s right and now I can’t even look at him without wanting to cry.

So instead, you mumbled, “It’s nothing.”

Jungwon didn’t push. He just leaned back with a sigh and said, “You know I’ll keep annoying you until you tell me, right?”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know.”

He grinned. “Cool. Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

You sighed then tilted your head toward him, your voice quiet. “D’you ever think we’ll be bigger than we are right now?”

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “I mean… I heard Mr. Kim say we stop growing after we turn 18, but I’m not too sure.” He tilted his head dramatically, thinking hard. “Though… I have been drinking more milk lately so all fingers crossed!”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant! I meant... just us. Will we ever be bigger than this? Than who we are now?”

He looked at you, his smile fading into something gentler. You didn’t usually say things like this. “Like... spiritually? Emotionally? Or like tax bracket-wise?”

You stared at him flatly.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, raising both hands in surrender. “I get it. You mean like, in the world.”

You nodded slowly, your voice tightening. “I mean…look at us….We’re just... two kids. Two random people in this giant fuckin’ world. And there are people out there who are so much bigger than us. So much more important. Doing things that matter. And we’re just here. Doing this.”

Jungwon leaned his head back against the beanbag, legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling for a long moment before shrugging. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I like where I am.”

You glanced at him, brows furrowed. “You like working for scraps?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Well... it’s a Tuesday afternoon, and I’m hanging out with the prettiest girl I know. So yeah. Not bad.”

You shoved his shoulder, trying not to smile. “Be serious, Won.”

His expression softened then, all teasing drained out of it. He shifted to face you more fully, his voice quieter. “Okay. You’re upset. And since it’s you, and you don’t get like this unless it’s something big, I’m guessing this is about Jay.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Jungwon reached out and gently poked your forehead. “Then let me say this clearly: you need to stop letting that big, overthinking brain of yours spiral.”

You exhaled shakily.

“I know Jay. Not like you do, obviously,” he added with a small grin, “but well enough. And I know, for a fact, that Jay doesn’t give a single fuck that we’re working at...” He looked around and grimaced. “Goober Fuckin’ Galaxy.”

You laughed.

“I’m serious,” he said, nudging your knee with his. “That guy looks at you like you invented…I don’t know…the freaking internet? It clearly doesn’t matter what job you have, or where you come from. You’re not small to him. Not to me. Not to Hee. Not to any of us.”

You didn’t reply, but something in your chest eased…just a little.

The bell above the entrance gave its usual pathetic worn out ding, but you didn’t look up…no one came to Goober Galaxy on a Tuesday. That was the whole point of working Tuesdays.

“Uh oh,” he muttered beside you, sitting up from his beanbag.

“What?” you asked, barely glancing over.

“Lover boy incoming.”

Your brows knit together as you turned and froze.

Jay was standing in the entrance, chest rising like he’d sprinted from the subway (which he’s probably never taken), hair tousled in that way that looked both accidental and annoyingly perfect. In one hand, he held a bouquet of white daisies wrapped in soft brown paper. In the other, a box of chocolates with a ribbon tied so tight it was starting to crumple the corner.

And then you noticed it, the faint red splotches blooming across his knuckles, creeping up his wrist. His grip didn’t falter. Jay was allergic to flowers. You’d known that since forever, since the day he sneezed through an entire spring picnic and blamed the pollen for his watery eyes.

Your heart twisted.

Suddenly, you felt awful. And soft. And maybe a little bit in love all over again.

He walked straight toward you, eyes never leaving your face, and you hated the way your breath caught.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, completely thrown. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, pushing the flowers into your hands like they might prove his sincerity. “I don’t know what I did. But whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t even realize something was wrong until you stopped replying and then I thought maybe it was something I said or maybe I looked at you weird and—”

“Jay—”

“I was going to come yesterday, but I didn’t want to be pushy. And then I tried calling again this morning but I figured maybe you were busy—”

“Jay.”

He finally paused, breath short, his eyes scanning your face with desperation. And just like that, your chest ached in another way.

He didn’t know. He thought he did something wrong. And he came all the way here just to apologize for a mistake he didn’t even understand.

You looked down at the daisies, hands curling around the brown paper. The stems were still wet. Fresh, which means he got the flowers that day.

God, he was sweet. Stupidly, painfully sweet.

Before you could say anything, Jungwon cleared his throat loudly from behind the counter. “Sooooo,” he drawled. “You got her flowers and chocolates? What do I get?”

Jay turned to look at him with the flattest, most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen. Without a word, he reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out a single crumpled bill, and tossed it onto the counter.

“A dollar,” he said.

Jungwon stared at it. “That’s it?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t give you lint from my pocket.”

“Then…I’ll just have the dollar.” Jungwon muttered, pocketing the dollar.

Jay turned back to you, lips parted like he wanted to say more but the words didn’t come.

Jungwon hadn’t moved.

He was still standing there, hovering way too close, arms crossed, eyes bouncing between you and Jay like he was watching the tension build. His eyes crossing between you and Jay’s a silly grin on his stupid face.

You shot him a look. “Can you get lost?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. “It’s Tuesday. I’m bored. I wanna see how this plays out.”

“You want entertainment?”

“Desperately.”

You sighed through your nose, then shoved the box of chocolates into his chest without looking. “Here. Take this. Go sit in the ball pit and eat this.”

He stared at the box, then back at you. “These are from him, though.”

“I don’t care. Just go.”

A smug smile bloomed on his face as he clutched the box. “You know what? Say less.”

And with that, he strolled off, climbing into the nearest corner of a giant ball pit, where he immediately sprawled across the plastic balls.

You turned back to Jay, your eyes flicking upward to meet his.

He was still watching you, brows drawn just slightly. His arms were at his sides now, hands twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or give you space. He didn’t know what he’d done, but he knew something had changed. And it was killing him.

You looked at the flowers still in your hands. You looked back at him. You weren’t sure which one made your chest hurt more.

So you said it.

“I heard what your mom said that day.”

His entire expression shifted subtly. His mouth parted, but he didn’t speak.

“I didn’t mean to,” you added, softer now. “I was coming back to the room and I just… I overheard the entire conversation.”

Jay’s shoulders tensed. He looked down for a second, then up again, jaw clenched, eyes searching your face.

You swallowed. “I wasn’t avoiding you because I was mad. I just… I don’t know...I didn’t know how to act.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just blinked slowly, like the words were still settling into place.

“Look,” Jay said finally, his voice low but firm, “you don’t have to worry about it. I’m not going anywhere—”

“Jay,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you meant, “I’m not worried about that.”

You looked down, fingers tightening around the bouquet of daisies in your hands. The stems crinkled slightly in your grip.

“I’m not mad about what she said,” you said quietly. “I’m just... she’s right.”.

His mouth opened slightly, brows drawing together like he didn’t understand how those words could’ve come from you. His chest rose as if to argue, but he didn’t speak yet. He couldn’t.

You lifted your gaze slowly, and your throat burned. “She’s right, Jay. We don’t have anything in common besides growing up together.”

He shook his head immediately, stepping closer. “You’re more than what she said—”

“Jay,” you said again, this time with a bitter laugh laced into it, “who are we kidding?”

He sighed when you cut him off.

“I work in a stupid kids’ playground called Goober Galaxy. You’re in every high-end after school academy, tutoring centre, test prep institute money can buy. You’re made to get straight A’s, made to end up at some fancy university. Made to do something big. I’m not.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” he said, his voice cracking just barely at the edges. “Do you think I ever looked at you and saw anything less?”

Jay exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “I’ve liked you since the day you showed up behind your mom in that stupid little yellow dress you hated. You were hiding behind her, and God—” he let out a soft laugh, almost breathless, “The moment you sat beside me, you punched me in the shoulder and said I had a dumb name. I’ve liked you since then.”

Your eyes fluttered up to glance at him, but only for a second, before dropping back to your shoes. He reached out gently, fingers brushing under your chin, and tilted your face toward his.

“I loved that version of you,” he said, eyes locked onto yours. “I love this version of you. I’ve never thought you were less than me. Not even once. It’s always been you.”

The silence that followed clung to the air, thick and trembling.

You stared at him, barely breathing, barely able to believe this was real.

“Jay–”

“UH GUYS, CAN I COME OUT NOW?” Jungwon’s voice rang out, followed by a hacking cough. “I THINK I SWALLOWED THE RIBBON.”

You almost burst into laughter. Almost.

But instead, you did the one thing you’d been aching to do for far too long.

You leaned forward over the counter and kissed him.

Jay froze for just a split second, stunned. His hand hovered uncertainly beside you, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you. But his eyes fluttered shut, and when you pulled away, his lips chased yours like he didn’t want it to end.

His cheeks flushed immediately. He laughed softly, a little dazed. “I didn’t think today would end up like this.”

You smirked. “Do you want me to take it back?”

He shook his head quickly, still smiling. “No. I just... I wish it wasn’t in front of—”

The both of you turned.

Jungwon was now sitting fully upright in the ball pit, legs criss-crossed, waving at you. A half-eaten piece of chocolate dangled from his fingers.

“I think I’m the first person to ever witness a love confession in Goober Galaxy,” he said. “A sentence that has never, ever been said before in the history of mankind.”

Jay groaned and dropped his head onto the counter with a thud. “Why are you like this?”

He tilted his head, beaming like he’d just officiated a wedding. “So… can I come out now?”

You and Jay both answered without missing a beat.

“No.”

—

The two of you had been dating for a whole month now and sneaking around had become a normal occurrence for the two of you.

A month of stolen glances, hushed giggles, and kisses behind closed doors. You came over under the same old pretense, “I’m just hanging out at Jay’s while waiting for Mom to finish work”. It was familiar. There was nothing to question.

Except now, every time you stepped into his room, the door clicked shut behind you and the rest of the world disappeared.

You’d start out pretending to study. Laptops open, notebooks flipped to blank pages, a pencil stuck behind your ear. Jay would sit beside you, his knee pressed against yours, trying really hard for maybe ten minutes. And then he’d look over.

You’d barely meet his eyes before his lips were on yours.

Usually, soft first then it goes deeper, slower, the kind of kissing that made you forget what time it was. It’d be 4:30 one moment and 6:00 the next. He’d push your hair behind your ear, you’d tug lightly on his hoodie, and the math textbook between you would be quietly shoved to the floor by someone’s feet.

It always ended the same way. A knock at the door. Your mom’s voice floating in, “Come on, time to head home!”

You’d jolt apart, breathless, cheeks burning, smoothing out your hair and reaching blindly for a notebook. “Okay!” you’d call out, voice a little too high. Jay would flop back onto his bed, dramatic and pouty.

Your mom would open the door, glance in, see the two of you surrounded by notes and open textbooks, and nod. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

“Just five more minutes,” you’d reply automatically.

She’d leave. And before you could even stand, Jay would hook a finger through your sleeve and pull you gently back down.

One last kiss. And then another. And then five more, because he always said one wasn’t enough. He’d press them to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, grinning like an idiot.

“Do you really have to go?” he’d mumble, arms still around you.

“She’s literally my ride home.”

“I could give you a ride.”

You snorted and leaned back just enough to look at him. “You got your license like... five minutes ago.”

“Exactly. I’m freshly certified. I’m a responsible driver.”

“Jay,” you said flatly, “I heard what grandma said about you hitting the curb”

Jay groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “What a snitch.”

You laughed, pulling away gently as you stood up. “That’s a no, by the way. You’re not driving me home.”

Jay pouted, tugging lightly on your hand. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you. I just wanna go home in one piece tonight.”

Still pouting, he leaned up and kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “One day you’ll be begging me for a ride.”

“Sure. The day you stop kissing the curb.”

—

It was another ordinary day, or at least it had started that way. You were in Jay’s room, lying beside him with your head propped on your hand, half-listening to him ramble about something stupid Heeseung had texted. His hand was resting on your knee, your fingers loosely interlocked until the knock came.

The door creaked open a second later.

“Oh,” his mother said, her smile soft but surprised. “You’re here.”

You sat up immediately, your hand slipping out of his. You nodded politely, reaching for your bag even though you weren’t meant to leave for another hour. What used to feel like home now made your shoulders tense. Jay noticed. Of course he did.

“Are you staying for dinner?” his mother asked, stepping inside like she always had.

You shook your head quickly. “No. I was actually just about to leave.”

“So soon?” she pouted slightly. “You haven’t eaten dinner with us in a while.”

“I just have a lot of homework to get through,” you replied with a rehearsed smile, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You turned to Jay, silently asking if he’d stop you, if he’d ask you to stay. But he saw it. The unease in your body, the way your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you back down and kiss the worry out of your forehead. But he didn’t.

He just nodded. Smiled like it didn’t hurt.

“Go,” he said gently.

And so you did.

The door clicked shut behind you.

Jay stood there for a beat, staring at the closed space you’d just filled. Then he turned back, meeting his mother’s gaze across the room.

She crossed her arms. “Is something wrong?” she asked, frowning now. “She hasn’t stayed for dinner in almost two months.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mom.”

“I think there is.”

Jay exhaled, his jaw tight. And he hated it…hated how something that was once easy had turned into this sharp-edged discomfort. How your laughter had grown quieter. How he had to love you in secret all because the life carved out for him didn’t have room for anything outside of perfect.

Over the past two months, Jay had started to feel something sour curling inside him. A quiet resentment. Not towards you. Never you. But toward everything else. Toward the silent expectation to carry generations of ambition on his back. He loved his mother, God, he really did. But that love didn’t soften the frustration. It didn’t erase how badly things had shifted between you both since that night.

He had so many things to be grateful for. But all he’d ever really wanted was you. Just to be by your side. And somehow, even that felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

“Mom, drop it,” he said, voice flat.

She frowned, stepping further into the room. “Jongseong, you’ve been acting different since the day—”

“That’s because I’ve been talking, and you haven’t been listening,” he snapped.

Her expression faltered. “What do you want me to do, Jong? Your dad and I have worked tirelessly for this opportunity—”

“That I didn’t ask for!” His voice cracked, hands clenched at his sides.

“You are going to that university. It’s in your blood. It’s good for you. And deep down, you know it too. If I told her how important this is, how good it is for you, I’m pretty sure she’d be supportive.”

“Don’t tell her.”

She froze.

“Baby—”

“Don’t. Tell. Her.” he repeated, each word heavier than the last.

His mother blinked, visibly thrown by his tone. And Jay just stood there, chest heaving, trying to hold back the rest of the words rising in his throat. Because if he said more, he wasn’t sure what would come out.

He just knew this: She wasn’t allowed to take you from him, too.

—

The two of you had wandered into a small alleyway market off the main district, less glossy, more charm. Little stalls lined both sides, selling handmade accessories, mismatched shoes, thrifted bags with peeling zippers, and the kind of bracelets that cost just enough to mean something, but not enough to break a wallet.

You stopped in front of a table full of them, rows of braided cords, beaded charms, faded ribbons wrapped around thin, bendy wire. You held up one with small star-shaped beads, smiling a little to yourself.

Jay hovered beside you, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning the stall. “You sure you want one of these?” he asked, not unkindly, just confused. “There’s a place down the street that does custom silver bands. We can go there. I’ll pay.”

You shook your head immediately, the smile slipping off your face. “I don’t want anything too expensive,” you said quietly. “I just want something pretty.”

Jay frowned. “Yeah, but we could get something prettier. Something that’ll last. I just—why not get something better?”

You didn’t say anything at first, just lowered your hand. Something in your chest twisted. He didn’t mean anything by it. You knew that. But it still hit the wrong nerve.

You turned to him, jaw tightening. “Just because I’m buying cheaper things doesn’t mean they’re ass, Jay.”

He blinked, startled. “I didn’t even mean it that way,” he said, voice low but tense. “I just meant—if there’s something you want, I’ll get it for you. That’s all. You don’t have to—”

“I don’t want anything,” you cut in, too fast, too sharp. “Not with your money.”

The silence that followed was instant.

Jay’s brows lifted slightly. He’d been reaching for your hand without even realizing it, but at that, he pulled back. Just a fraction. Just enough to make your heart drop. His expression didn’t shift much, just the tiniest flicker of hurt. But that was worse. You could tell when he was trying not to show it.

You reached for him quickly, fingers wrapping around his hand before he could pull away further. Your grip tightened, desperate.

“I’m sorry,” you said, softer this time. “I didn’t mean it. I just—sometimes I feel weird. I don’t know.”

Jay looked at you for a long moment. And then, wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms.

Your face pressed against his chest, your fists gripped onto the fabric of his hoodie. He didn’t say anything.

“I just want to give you everything,” he whispered after a long silence.

And even though your throat burned, you didn’t cry. You just nodded, clinging to him.

—

Jay stared long and hard at the framed certificates on the wall of his father’s office.

He’d been sitting there ever since he got back from your little date.

You’d cried for almost 30 minutes before finally falling asleep on his shoulder. He’d felt every quiet sob, the uneven rise and fall of your chest. Like being with him hurt.

He knew you loved him. God, he loved you just as much, probably more. But seeing you in that much pain simply because the two of you came from different worlds made his chest ache.

He didn’t care about any of it. Not the money. Not the future his parents had mapped out. Not the name on the wall in front of him.

But you did.

He didn’t know how to fix it. How to make you believe you were never less than him. That you’d always been the best part of his world.

“Jong?”

Jay’s head snapped up. His mother stood at the door, peeking through. He cleared his throat and quickly wiped away a single tear he hadn’t realised had fallen.

“Mom,” he said, nodding stiffly.

He hadn’t spoken to her since the last time she tried to push him into going.

Jay had already made peace with attending a good university in Korea. One that meant a thirty-minute drive from you. One that didn’t require a time zone between your hands. He didn’t care about prestige. He didn’t need legacy. He just needed you.

Because no place could feel like home unless you were there.

He wanted a small, lived-in apartment where the walls were filled with pictures of the two of you, some crooked, some blurry, all perfect. He wanted late mornings and lazy nights, strumming his guitar while you sat on his lap, flipping through TV channels.

He didn’t want boardrooms. He wanted breakfast in bed. He wanted you in his hoodie, laughing at something stupid, your legs tangled with his on the couch. He wanted to choose that life.

He just didn’t know how because his life wasn’t his.

His parents were successful, respectable, powerful, intimidating in every room they walked into. And Jay? He was their only child. The heir. The one meant to carry it all.

He didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He knew he was lucky. But sometimes…he wished he was at Goober Galaxy right next to you. Sweeping floors, handing out stickers, chasing after toddlers. Living the kind of life he got to choose.

He wished he could trade places with Jungwon, just for a moment. To know what it felt like to live freely, to love without strings.

But he wasn’t Jungwon.

He was stuck. Caged by expectations that didn’t belong to him. And no one had asked if he wanted them.

“Your dad wants to see you.”

Jay blinked. His mother was still standing in the doorway, phone in hand, the screen already lit up with a call. He swallowed. She passed it to him without another word.

Jay sat up straighter, the back of his neck already tensing as he accepted the phone. His father's face filled the screen, sharp suit, crisp tie, backdrop of a sleek conference room somewhere in Hong Kong. The time zone difference didn't matter. His father always made time when it came to lectures.

“Jongseong,” his father began without pleasantries, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s this I hear about you not wanting to attend Oxford?”

Jay opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He glanced at the wall, at the same framed degree he’d been staring at moments earlier, and felt the familiar weight return to his chest.

With his mother, he always knew what to say. How to deflect, how to counter her logic with his own. But with his father… it was different.

With his father, Jay always felt like a little boy again.

Like he wasn’t the man of the house, but a kid sitting at the edge of a chair too big for him, trying not to swing his legs.

With his father gone so often, Jay had stepped into the role by default…holding things down, keeping things quiet, managing expectations. But every time his dad reappeared, even just through a screen, it was like the years peeled off and left him exposed.

He felt his mouth go dry. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the phone.

“I’ve… decided not to go,” he said finally, voice quiet but steady.

There was a pause. A beat of silence that buzzed louder than any scolding.

“Decided?” his father repeated, eyes narrowing. “Jong, we don’t just decide things. You know that.”

His voice rose, firm and cold.

“We’re not like anyone else. Do you understand that? You don’t get to just throw away opportunities people would kill for.”

Jay swallowed again, throat tight. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say I don’t want it. I never did. But the words sat heavy in his chest, unmoving.

He didn’t want any of it. But how could he say that to a man who had spent his entire life building it?

“I—”

“Son,” his father’s voice dropped, deeper now, tinged with concern. “I didn’t… we didn’t build this by making decisions that went against our family. We built this by honouring tradition. By upholding it.”

“Dad—”

“We’re not just… anyone, Jongseong. You have to remember that. Even when it comes to the people we keep close.”

Jay’s eyes flicked to his mother, still standing in the doorway. Her gaze faltered just slightly.

So she told him. About you.

Of course she did.

And now it wasn’t just about the university anymore. It was about you. About everything he’d kept safe and sacred. Everything he thought he could keep separate.

—

You barged into his room with your bag slung over your right shoulder, hair slightly windblown..

“School was so boring!” you groaned, flopping straight onto his sofa. Without warning, you dropped your head onto his lap, staring up at the ceiling.

“But you wouldn’t guess what happened though,” you continued, grin creeping onto your face. “I got an A for Biology and Hee got an F, so now he has to retake the test. He looked like he was about to cry—”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Jay wasn’t laughing.

He wasn’t smiling.

His eyes were somewhere else, fixed on a spot just past you, like he wasn’t really here at all.

Your smile faltered.

You sat up slowly, shifting your weight until you were straddling his lap. His hands instinctively moved to your waist, but his gaze was still lost. So you reached for his face. Your hands cradled his jaw, thumbs pressing gently into the softness of his cheeks as you squished them together.

“Jay?” you said softly, brows furrowed. “Where’d you go?”

That finally pulled his eyes back to you.

He blinked, like surfacing from deep water, lips parted as if he’d forgotten how to speak.

“Jay?” you repeated, your voice quieter now, more cautious.

Jay shook his head quickly, almost like he was trying to shake something off. Then his hands tightened around your waist, grounding himself.

“Baby,” he murmured.

“You okay?” you asked, eyes searching his face.

He nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

Ever since the call with his father, the decision had been made for him…he would be going to Oxford. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a discussion. It was a statement, sharp and final. There was no room to disagree, no room to even think.

Not that he had a choice. He never really did.

Jay had spent the entire night buried under the covers of his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as the hours ticked by. His phone had lit up over and over again, messages from his mom, soft knocks at the door but he hadn’t moved.

He didn’t want to read what she had to say. He didn’t want to hear reassurances...not anymore. Because the truth was, nothing anyone said would make it feel any better.

And now here you were, sitting in his lap, smiling like the sun, laughing about your day, trusting that the world hadn’t just changed for him entirely.

He didn’t know how to tell you.

Didn’t know how to say he was leaving.

Didn’t know how to break your heart when you had only just handed it to him.

But he had to.

Because he was leaving.

At this point, it wasn’t about academics. It wasn’t about prestige. It was about control.

His father thought this was the cleanest way to fix things.

Remove the distraction.

Remove the attachment.

Remove you.

Jay felt it in his chest, this sick, sinking sense of being packaged up and delivered to a life he never chose. Like this would be better. Like this would make things easier. Not for him. But for them.

—

You were worried.

Jay wasn’t acting like himself. He wasn’t snarky, or smug, or sarcastic in the way you’d come to love. He wasn’t cracking jokes or teasing you every time you said something dumb. He was quiet and distracted.

Jay was usually good at hiding things. But today… today, whatever it was had cracked through.

So naturally, you turned to the two most emotionally stunted people you knew.

“I think he’s broken,” you declared, arms folded on the table in front of you. “Like, actually broken.”

Jungwon blinked. “Did you try turning him off and back on again?”

“I’m serious, Won,” you said, glaring at Jungwon, “He hasn’t texted me all day. And yesterday, he...was so different? I don’t know what’s wrong but it’s not nothing.”

“Have you considered…” Jungwon began, “that he’s just constipated?”

“Jungwon, I swear to God—”

“I’m just saying, emotional constipation and actual constipation are cousins.”

“Please shut up,” you muttered, face in your hands.

Across from you, Heeseung was flipping through his notebook like he wasn’t listening. But then he spoke, casually, without even looking up.

“Why don’t you plan something lowkey for him?” he said. “Like, something you guys used to do. Remind him what home feels like. He clearly needs it.”

You and Jungwon both froze.

Then slowly, you turned to look at him.

Heeseung glanced up, blinking at your silence. “What?”

Jungwon pointed at him dramatically. “Holy shit, that’s the first good idea you’ve ever had.”

You side-eyed Jungwon. “You haven’t had a good idea today either, Won.”

“Yeah, but I usually do,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. “So this makes up for it.”

Still, you leaned back in your chair, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you let the idea settle.

Something simple. Something that would pull Jay out of whatever fog he was in and back into the version of himself he only ever seemed to be around you.

Maybe Heeseung was right. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing anything. Maybe it was about reminding him that he was loved.

–

You sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows resting on your knees, hands fidgeting with the sleeve of your hoodie. Jay was upstairs grabbing something, his keys maybe, or a jacket, or just taking forever like he always did. You’d planned everything with Jungwon and Heeseung down to the detail. A quiet dinner at your place. His favourite food, his favourite people, and a homemade banner Jungwon insisted on duct-taping across your kitchen ceiling.

You tapped your feet against the floor, eyes flicking between the staircase and the coffee table in front of you.

“Oh—hey!”

You hadn’t expected to run into his mom.

She came out from the hallway with a small stack of neatly folded towels, pausing slightly when she saw you there. Then her face relaxed into a smile, almost like the kind you couldn’t quite read.

“Oh, you’re here early,” she said lightly, crossing into the living room. “Jong’s still upstairs?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Said he’d just be a minute.”

She set the towels down on the armchair, smoothing one absent-mindedly. “How have you been? It feels like I haven’t seen you properly in ages.”

You stiffened slightly. Not out of rudeness. Just… because you never knew how to be around her anymore. Not since that night.

Still, you tried to keep your voice even. “I’ve been okay. School’s been a little hectic.”

“Mmm, I remember those days,” she said fondly. “So much pressure to figure everything out. Especially now.”

She gave you a knowing look, and you tried to return it, even though your stomach twisted.

A moment of silence passed. You glanced down at your hands.

“I really haven’t seen you around much,” she added gently, “Not even for dinner.”

You gave a small shrug. “I’ve just been… busy.”

Her gaze flicked to the corner of the room, almost like she wanted to say more. But then she smiled again, too quickly.

“I’m actually waiting for a delivery,” she said, as if to fill the quiet. “Should be arriving soon.”

“Oh?” you said, seizing the normalcy in her tone. “Something exciting?”

She waved a hand. “Just a new luggage set.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Ooh, another vacation, Mrs. Park?”

She laughed softly. “Oh, no, not for me. It’s for Jay, we’re giving it to him before he goes to Oxford.”

And just like that, the world stopped.

The words didn’t even sound dramatic. Just a casual statement, something said mid-sentence, in passing.

But your brain latched onto it like it was the only thing that mattered.

Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Oxford…

Oxford?

Jay was going to Oxford.

Your chest constricted. “Oxford?” you repeated, and you hated how your voice sounded small and uncertain.

Mrs. Park blinked, like she was only just realizing what she said. “Oh… oh, didn’t he tell you?”

Your heart dropped.

Your ears started to ring.

“He’s been accepted for early enrolment,” she continued, her smile faltering just slightly. “We’ve been sorting everything out this week. He’ll finish his last semester online and leave by the end of next month.”

End of next month.

That was four weeks.

Four weeks.

Four weeks left with Jay, and he hadn’t said a word.

“I thought you knew,” she said gently. “I’m so sorry, I assumed—”

But you didn’t hear the rest.

You could barely hear anything past the blood rushing in your ears. Your throat tightened. The lump rising felt sharp, like glass.

You nodded. Or at least you think you did. Some vague, stiff movement that looked enough like understanding to make her stop talking.

Upstairs, you heard Jay’s door creak open. His voice called out, cheerful and completely unaware.

“You ready?”

You stood up too fast, your legs unsteady. The smile you threw on felt like someone else’s.

Because right now, your heart was already cracking.

And he didn’t even know yet.

–

Jay was finally driving you. In his new car.

It was sleek, glossy black, still smelling faintly of showroom leather. The dashboard glowed with lights, the music system softly playing an instrumental track you barely registered. You’d never ridden in a car with him driving before. A month ago, that would’ve made you tease him endlessly, maybe fake a scream when he made a sharp turn, joke that your life was in his hands now. He would’ve laughed, reached over to pinch your knee, and said something stupid like, "Relax, I got my license in one try."

But now, you just sat there… quiet.

Your hands stayed clamped in your lap, fingers twisting into each other until you found the skin along your thumb and picked. You pulled. Peeled the hangnail until a thin trail of red welled up against your nail bed. You rubbed it away quickly with the sleeve of your hoodie.

Jay’s eyes flicked over from the road. Then back. Then again.

“You okay?” he asked carefully, hands still gripping the wheel. “You haven’t said a word since we left.”

You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Because how could you?

How could you turn to him and ask ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ How could you ask ‘Was I supposed to find out from your mom? Like a stranger?’

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry and beat your fists against the dashboard and shake the truth out of him.

“Baby?”

His voice pulled you out of your spiral. Your head snapped up.

“Huh?”

Jay glanced over again. “Something’s clearly going on.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice too tight to be convincing.

He didn’t buy it. “Is this because I’ve been acting weird? I swear it’s all good now. I’m good.”

You shook your head and tried to laugh, but the sound came out cracked and hollow. “No, no. I just—”

Jay gave you a look. “Now I know you’re lying. You’re not about to pass that off as your real laugh.”

“I guess I’m just… worried, that’s all,” you said, brushing a loose thread off your jeans.

Jay’s brows knit. “Worried about what?”

You stared out the window, watching the blur of trees and apartment buildings pass. Your voice dropped. “The future.”

He didn’t press.

He turned onto your street, easing the car to a slow stop right outside your house. The engine purred into silence, but the tension between you roared. Still, you didn’t move. You didn’t speak.

He waited, hoping, maybe, that you’d open up. That you’d say something. But you didn’t. You just shrugged, gave him a vague “I guess,” and unbuckled your seatbelt like the conversation had ended.

The car locks clicked open.

You were already halfway out the door.

Jay cursed softly under his breath and slammed his door shut a second later, jogging after you. You’d unlocked your front door with shaky fingers and were about to step in when he caught up.

“You’re mad,” he said from behind you.

“I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.” His voice was tense now. “Baby, c’mon, did… did I do something? I’m sorry. I really am.”

You stopped in the hallway. Still didn’t turn.

Your heart thudded in your chest, hard and loud. You didn’t want to look at him because you knew that if you did, you knew everything would fall apart. You’d been holding it together and he was tugging on the last thread without even knowing it.

But it was the way he apologised, when he didn’t even know what for, that did it.

You turned.

Your eyes were red. Not just teary, bloodshot, swollen, like you hadn’t slept in days. You weren’t crying yet, but your expression… it was wrecked. Like someone trying to hold back a flood that had already started leaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered.

Jay froze. He looked at you like you’d just split him open.

“Tell you what?” he asked softly, though the dread was already sinking into his eyes.

“That you were going.”

Jay’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

And then the pain hit again, your words echoing off the hallway walls, hanging between you like smoke.

“I…” He tried. God, he tried.

But the words didn’t come.

Because how could he explain it? How could he say, ‘I didn’t want to see this look on your face?’ How could he say, ‘I tried fighting for us but it wasn’t enough?’

You shook your head slowly. “You were going to leave without telling me.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?”

Jay stepped closer, voice trembling now. “I didn’t want to lie. I just… I kept waiting for the right time. But every time I saw you, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to see you look at me like I was already gone.”

“But you are,” you choked out. “Aren’t you?”

His face crumpled.

“I didn’t choose this.”

“Not telling me was a choice. Your choice.”

Jay dragged a hand down his face, chest rising with shallow breaths. He looked older in that moment.

“I tried to stay. I told my dad I didn’t want to go. I told him this—” he gestured between the two of you, eyes glassy, “you — this is what matters to me. But he didn’t care. He never does.”

Your lip trembled, but you held it. “Then you should’ve told me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

He took another step. Close enough to touch now, but he didn’t. Not yet.

“I was scared you’d hate me.”

You looked up at him then and for the first time, he saw it all: the betrayal, the grief, the love.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, voice breaking. “I just didn’t want to be the last to know you were leaving.”

Jay’s breath hitched. His shoulders dropped.

“I’m not trying to leave you,” he said, so quietly it almost sounded like a plea. “They’re just making me go. Please.”

You didn’t answer. Your throat was too tight.

He stepped forward, slowly, gently cupping your face with both hands.

“You’re the only thing I don’t want to leave behind.”

And this time, when the tears came, you didn’t stop them.

Your face crumpled as you collapsed into his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his middle like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go. Jay held you immediately, his hands splaying across your back, his cheek resting against the top of your head. .

“I’m not leaving,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out in a single breath.

You blinked up at him through wet lashes. “What?”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, more firmly now. “I never wanted to go. I’m not going. I’m staying.”

You pulled back slightly, brows furrowing. “Jongseong… you can’t just up and ignore your parents—”

“I’m not ignoring them,” he cut in, “I’m just finally standing up for myself. Look. I don’t even want to go. If I’m not allowed to make my own choices about my own future, then what am I? A puppet?”

“Jong…”

“God, I love them,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated but honest. “I love my parents so much. But if they truly give a shit then they’ll just have to respect me enough to let me make my own decisions. They can’t keep deciding my life for me and call it parenting because it’s not.”

You hesitated. “Jong, you’re not doing this solely for me, are you?”

Jay sighed.

“I’ll admit that a huge part of me wants to stay because of you,” he said, not flinching. “Of course I do. But it’s not just that.”

He stepped back slightly, just enough to look you in the eye. “I don’t want to be living somewhere where I don't know anyone. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to wake up in a city that doesn’t have you, Hee, or Won. And c’mon, there are good schools here — great ones, even. I can still make something of myself without crossing an ocean for a name, all while being here…with you.”

You searched his face, your chest tight.

“But your dad—”

“Can live with my decision,” Jay said, quiet but certain. “I’ve been pretending I could live with this, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

He took your hands, thumbs brushing over your still-shaking fingers.

“I’m happier when I’m with you,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “When I’m here. With you guys. Near the people who make me feel like I’m already enough.”

You swallowed hard. His grip tightened.

“I’m not giving that up for a future that doesn’t even feel like mine. So please…don’t make me go.”

You breathed, like you’d been holding it in, “Okay.”

He sighed like the weight pressing on his chest had finally loosened.

And then he kissed you.

There was no hesitation, no inch of space left between you. It wasn’t delicate or careful, it was immediate, all heat.

His hands slipped from yours and rose to cradle your face, palms warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth like he needed to feel you. His lips crashed into yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You leaned into him instinctively, your hands fisting in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. His nose brushed against yours, his lips parting against your bottom lip, tasting the salt of your tears.

It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, and rushed, and aching. His mouth trembled just a little when he kissed you. Jay’s thumb traced along your jaw, slow and reverent, while his other hand slid behind your neck.

Your knees felt weak. Your lungs burned. But none of that mattered. Because he was kissing you.

“So… like, uh… do we come out now or…?”

You and Jay froze.

From behind the sofa, Jungwon slowly popped his head out, holding a cake with “Stop Being Sad!” scrawled messily across the top in blue icing. Heeseung followed a beat later, scratching the back of his neck.

“We could, like… pretend we aren’t here,” Heeseung muttered, glancing down at the cake as if he suddenly regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.

You and Jay instinctively pulled apart, both of you flushed and teary-eyed, your breaths still uneven. It wasn’t exactly how you wanted to be seen.

Jungwon winced at the sight of you two. “Uh. Sorry? We were gonna jump out and yell surprise, but like… then you guys were fighting then the next thing we knew you were kissing so–”

Jay dragged a hand down his face with a low groan. “Oh my god. What are you guys even doing here?”

“We were going to throw a surprise feel-better party,” Heeseung said flatly, lifting a plastic bag of takeout containers, “but if I’m being honest, I think we're the ones more surprised.”

Heeseung sighed before continuing, “We even brought your favorite food. Well… kinda. I think Jungwon ate half the fries while we were waiting.”

Jay didn’t say anything. Just let out a slow breath and sank into the sofa, his body folding inward like something was caving in. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. His thumbs rubbed together, a nervous habit. One you’d seen since you were kids.

But Jay didn’t look at anyone.

His eyes were fixed on the floor, staring through it.

You watched him from across the room, your own shoulders still tense, fingers curled around the frayed edge of your hoodie sleeve. He hadn’t said much since the kiss. Since the apology. Since he told you he was staying. And now, sitting there in your living room, he looked smaller somehow.

He was staying. But that decision came with consequences and Jay knew exactly who he had to face next.

The thought of confronting his father made his chest tighten. Not just in fear but in something closer to shame. Not because he regretted his choice. But because he knew what that choice would cost him. What it had always cost him.

The memory came back before he could stop it. A flicker of a younger version of himself, standing in the marble foyer of his family’s house, backpack still on, heart pounding after sneaking back in too late. His father’s voice slicing through the silence. “You skipped prep school?” His tone wasn’t surprised. It was more like disappointment. And then the yelling came and it didn’t stop. Not till three hours later.

But all Jay could remember was the way your face had looked earlier that day, eyes wide and glowing under a canopy of fairy lights at the amusement park. The way your hand had never let go of his. How you’d smiled like the whole world had finally opened up for you. And how, just for that one afternoon, he didn’t care about anything. He just wanted you to feel like someone had chosen you.

And now, he was choosing you again.

Except this time, he had no idea how to explain that to the man who had spent his whole life choosing everything for him.

The room had gone quiet, heavy with the things no one wanted to say aloud.

Jungwon, seated cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, glanced up and studied Jay’s profile for a moment. Then, gently, he asked, “Thinking about how you wanna talk to your dad?”

Jay’s jaw tightened. He nodded once, not looking up. “Yep.” The word left his mouth flat, clipped, like he didn’t trust himself to say anything more.

He leaned in further, pressing his hands together, elbows braced against his thighs. His voice dropped to a murmur. “I don’t even know how to start. It’s like… the moment I stand in front of him, I’m twelve again.”

You moved before you could stop yourself.

Quietly, you crossed the room and eased down beside him on the sofa. The cushion dipped beneath your weight, your knee brushing his. His shoulders didn’t flinch, but they didn’t relax either.

You slipped your hand into his.

Jay blinked. Looked down at your fingers curled around his.

And when you spoke, your voice was soft. “Do you want me to be there?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he stared at your joined hands, breathing slowly through his nose like he was trying to think. But you could see the shift. The hesitation that made your stomach turn.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Your brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”

Jay let go of your hand slowly. He rubbed his palm against his jeans and sat back slightly, like creating space might help him form the words he was scared to say.

“I just… I think it might be easier if I go alone,” he said. “He’ll be less... intense. If it’s just me.”

You frowned. “Jay.”

He didn’t look at you.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?”

Jay shut his eyes, jaw clenched. Then, reluctantly, he nodded. “No. It’s not.”

“Then what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He hesitated. Again. And when he finally spoke, it was carefull.

“He just… doesn’t understand,” Jay said slowly. “Why I want to stay. Why that matters more than prestige or legacy or whatever. And bringing you into that conversation might just… complicate things. He’s upset. It’ll pass.”

But you heard it.

The way he didn’t say it.

You sat back slightly, looking at him now, “Complicate things,” you repeated.

Jay nodded faintly.

You stared at him for a moment, piecing it together. And then your voice came out flat. “You mean to say... they don’t think I belong in your world.”

Jay’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “No. Those aren’t my words. I’d never—”

“But they’re his,” you said softly. Not accusatory. Just… hurt.

Jay’s voice broke as he reached for you again. “I…I don’t agree with anything they’re saying.”

But the words, even as warm and trembling and full of love as they were, couldn’t take back what you already knew.

You blinked hard.

“It’s funny…I really thought they liked me,” you said, more to yourself than him. “I really did. I thought I was like family.”

“You are. To me, you always have been.”

But that wasn’t the same.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers now curled in on themselves. “So all this time… they just smiled at me and still thought I wasn’t enough.”

Jay’s hands fell to his sides. His voice cracked. “It’s not about you—”

“It is, though,” you whispered. “That’s exactly what it is.”

He didn’t argue. Because he knew. And you knew he knew.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers now curled in on themselves. “So all this time… they just smiled at me and still thought I wasn’t enough.”

Jay’s hands fell uselessly to his sides. His voice cracked, almost a whisper. “It’s not about you—”

“It is, though,” you said, quieter now. “That’s exactly what it is.”

No one spoke.

Not you, not Jay and not Jungwon or Heeseung, who had been silently sitting off to the side, exchanging hesitant glances as if trying to gauge whether they should stay or disappear. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was heavy.

Then, slowly, you stood up.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” you said, your voice strained but steady. “I just… I think I need some time alone.”

Jungwon blinked, rising immediately without protest. “Of course,” he said gently, grabbing his jacket.

“Take all the time you need,” Heeseung added, pulling Jungwon by the arm, guiding him out of the room.

And just like that, it was only you and Jay.

He hadn’t moved. But his eyes never left you, still wide, still searching, like he was waiting for some version of you to reach back out and say this wasn’t real. That you didn’t mean it.

You exhaled sharply, hugging your arms across your chest. “Jong, I need time. Alone.”

He rose to his feet, almost stumbling forward. “I can’t possibly leave you alone with all these thoughts—”

“With what thoughts?” you snapped, voice wobbling. “That your parents think I’m not good enough for you?”

Your throat tightened as tears welled up again, threatening to fall. “For the record, Jay, I’m precious to other people too.”

And that cracked something in him.

Jay’s breath caught in his chest as he watched you fall apart in front of him.

He couldn’t speak. He should’ve swallowed his fear. Should’ve protected you better. But instead, here you were, crumbling under the weight of his parents’ ignorance and all he could do was watch it happen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You were already shaking your head. “Jay, they’re right,” you said, your voice cracking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “I’m crying because they’re right.”

“No,” he said quickly, stepping closer.

“They’re not—”

“Look at us!” you cut in. “From the moment we got together till now, we’ve been fighting over the same thing. Me and you. We don’t belong in the same world. And you know it.”

Jay flinched.

You took a breath but it came out in pieces. “What’s gonna happen in the future, huh? When you’re out there doing all these big world things and I’m just… I’m just stuck. Working at a stupid kids’ playground, scraping money together just so I can go out with my friends like a normal person?”

You couldn’t breathe between sentences now. It was all tumbling out, everything you’d been burying deep inside.

“No,” he muttered under his breath. Then louder, “Enough.”

You startled at the sharpness in his voice.

“That’s enough,” he said again, stepping forward in two long strides before pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so tightly. “Stop. Please,” he whispered against your hair. “Just stop.”

You didn’t fight it. You were too tired. Too worn. You just stood there, pressed against him, your hands balled.

“I love you,” Jay said suddenly, voice rough. “I fucking love you. How can you even say that? That you’re not enough?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face now, his forehead pressed to yours.

“I don’t care about status. I don’t care what my parents built. I don’t care about any of it. The only thing I care about is you.”

His chest rose and fell too fast, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.

“I spend day and night thinking only about you. I always think about you. Dreaming that someday, I’ll get to wake up next to you and not have to keep it a secret. That I can walk out into the world and tell everyone that you’re mine. That I chose you. Over everything.”

You didn’t speak, didn’t move. Your heart felt like it was breaking and being stitched back together at the same time.

“I don’t care where we live,” he said fiercely. “I don’t care if it’s some shabby motel room or a one-room apartment over a laundromat. I just care that you’re there. Right beside me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His voice softened, cracked down the middle.

“If my mom and dad can’t see that? Then fine. Whatever. Let them be blind. Because… the only thing I’ve ever really wanted, the only thing that’s ever mattered, is this.”

He gripped your face tighter, thumbs brushing your tear-streaked cheeks. “Us. Our relationship. You.”

Your chest shook with the sob you hadn’t meant to let out.

And this time, when you collapsed into him, it wasn’t from sadness.

It was from the unbearable weight of being unconditionally loved.

–

Jay’s house had always been intimidating in a quiet, understated way not because it was large or lavish (although it was), but because of the tension that wafted it in the air. A kind of coldness that never really went away, even when his mom was smiling or his dad was out of town. You felt it now more than ever as you stood in the hallway outside his father’s office, the sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor echoing louder than you wanted it to.

You were in a pretty little dress, nothing flashy, just enough to look presentable. Your hair was done in a half ponytail, neat and soft, something you’d fixed just before you came even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. Jay had decided to bring you with him. After everything, the two of you had spent the night talking, curled up together on your couch, deciding that no matter what happened in that room, you would walk out together.

Even if that meant Jay leaving with three suitcases and no home to return to.

When the heavy double doors to the office opened, thunder cracked outside, almost like the sky itself was warning you. Jay flinched. So did you. But still, he stepped in first, fingers tightly curled around yours, and you followed behind him into the room.

His father sat behind his massive mahogany desk, posture straight, glasses perched low on his nose, the blue light from his laptop casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked like any other wealthy middle-aged man, if you were being honest, if you didn’t know better, you’d never guess how much power his voice held over Jay. How that man could reduce him to something so small with a few words.

“Close the door,” his father said without looking up.

Jay obeyed wordlessly. The soft click of the door shutting made your heart pound louder in your ears.

The silence was unbearable. The only sounds in the room were the quiet clack of his father’s typing, the occasional pop from the crackling fire in the fireplace, and the rush of blood in your ears. You could feel Jay’s hand trembling in yours as he led you closer toward the desk.

His mother sat just to the side in one of the leather armchairs, perfectly composed. She looked at your joined hands, then up at you both. Her expression was unreadable, but when she exhaled, you caught the faintest trace of defeat in it.

Jay stopped just a step short of the desk. You could feel the tension in his body, the rigid line of his shoulders, the way he shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other like he was grounding himself.

He cleared his throat.

“I’m not going.”

The typing stopped.

The silence that followed was louder than anything else that had come before it. His father slowly closed the laptop, fingers steepled over it as he raised his head. And then, he smiled.

Not a kind smile. Not even a confused one.

It was the kind of smile you gave when you thought someone was playing a prank on you. Condescending. Amused, but in that way that made you feel small.

“Not going?” he repeated, voice low but laced with ice. He leaned back in his chair. “And who exactly made that decision?”

Jay’s grip on your hand tightened.

“I did,” he said, voice steady but strained. “Because it’s my life.”

There was a moment where the room stood still.

Then came the slam.

THWACK.

His father’s palm hit the desk with a force that made you flinch and Jay instinctively step a little in front of you.

His dad’s face darkened, his voice rising now. “You did?” he echoed. “You decided to throw away Oxford. Throw away everything we’ve worked for. Everything I’ve sacrificed for this family. For what? Her?”

Jay didn’t respond.

His father’s eyes flicked to you, cold and sharp. You tried not to shrink under it, but it was hard, your chest felt like it was caving in on itself. He continued, now addressing his son with pointed disgust. “I always knew you were impulsive, but I didn’t think you were stupid. Do you understand what you’re giving up?”

Jay stayed still. Then slowly, he nodded.

“I do,” he said softly. “And I’m still not going.”

His dad scoffed, jaw tightening. “This isn’t just about you. This is about our name. Our reputation. Do you think you can waltz out of this house and pretend like your choices don’t affect the rest of us? Do you think—”

Jay stepped forward then.

“I’m not pretending. I know they affect you. But this—” he motioned between you and him, “this affects me too. And for once, I’m choosing the life I want to live.”

You could feel your lungs struggle for air.

Jay’s mom shifted in her seat, something soft flickering across her face. Her eyes moved back to the two of you, and this time, it lingered.

His dad rose to his feet.

“Then you can pack your things,” he said coldly. “And leave.”

Jay didn’t say a word. He just grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the office like the walls themselves were going to swallow him whole if he didn’t move fast enough. The last glimpse you caught before the door shut was his father, still standing, his expression unreadable save for the sharp stare he gave you and his mother, her eyes lingering on you.

Then you were in his room. The room you’d spent so many years in. The room where you studied on the floor for hours, where you once fell asleep watching movies with your legs tangled together. But now, it felt different. Felt almost unfamiliar despite the million times you’ve been in there.

Jay was moving fast, throwing open his wardrobe doors, yanking shirts and jackets off hangers, pulling drawers open and emptying clothes into an open suitcase. It was all happening so fast you could barely process it. You stood there, frozen by the door, the click of the doorknob behind you still echoing in your ears.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Your limbs were locked in place like your body had gone into shock. Guilt rose steadily in your chest, thick and choking.

“Baby…” your voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t think… shouldn’t we talk? Shouldn’t there be more to it than just this?”

Jay didn’t stop packing. He only glanced at you briefly, his eyes hard, lips set. “Talk about what?” he said sharply. “They’re never going to listen.”

You walked over to him slowly, your hand reaching for his arm, grounding yourself. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you stop talking to your family. This is heavy, Jay. This burden—it’s heavy as hell.” Your voice cracked near the end, and you hated it. Hated how weak you sounded. Hated how helpless this all felt.

Jay finally paused, his shoulders still heaving with frustration. He turned to you, placed both hands gently on your shoulders, thumbs brushing your skin as if that alone could reassure you. His voice dropped, low and tender, full of a kind of pain that was older than this moment.

“Baby, this isn’t about them right now. It’s about me. About trying to live my own life. I’m so tired of living a version of me that only exists to please them. I’ve been the perfect son for years, and now…” His hands tightened, eyes boring into yours. “Now I’m just trying to take my life back.”

You looked up at him for a long second, your breath caught in your chest, and then you slowly nodded. Wordlessly, you stepped beside him and knelt, beginning to fold the wrinkled clothes he had shoved into his suitcase. You couldn’t fix anything, not really, but you could help him pack.

He watched you for a moment. The way your eyes were lowered, expression unreadable. Guilt settled heavy in his stomach. He knew you were hurting not because of something you did, but simply because of who you were. And how his family had decided that was somehow… not enough.

Then he felt it.

Eyes on him.

Jay turned toward the door.

His mother stood there, a hand still clutched lightly against the frame, her face soft and wet with tears. Her gaze flickered from him to you, back again. “Jong…” she said, her voice cracking. “Don’t go.”

His heart squeezed. God, he’d always had a soft spot for her. For the way she brushed the hair from his eyes when he was sick, for the quiet way she defended him during family dinners. She loved him and he knew that. But when it came to standing up to his father, she never stood a chance.

“Mom…” he said, his voice breaking.

“Jong, please,” she whispered again.

He looked down. Then at you. You stood slowly now, standing behind him, your hands twisted tightly together, fingers fidgeting in a desperate attempt to stay grounded.

Jay swallowed hard. “I’m not going,” he said, barely more than a breath. “And if it’s too much for you or Dad to handle, then I’ll leave.”

His mother stepped into the room, shaking her head, eyes red. “I tried talking to your father—”

“He’s not going to change his mind, Mom.”

“He can. We can try.”

Jay let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp. “I’ve been trying. For years. And nothing’s ever budged.”

She stepped closer, voice pleading now. “What if you went? Just for now? You could visit every few months—”

“Because I don’t want to!” Jay’s voice rose, his frustration boiling over, his fists clenched at his sides. “The love of my life is here. I want to be here. My friends are here. You’re here. I don’t want to go somewhere where I don’t know anyone, where I have to pretend like I’m someone I’m not.”

He was crying now. A mess of breathless anger and heartbreak. He looked at his mom, desperate for her to see him. To see you.

“You used to tell me stories, remember?” he said, voice trembling. “How Dad courted you for three years. How you didn’t even like him at first, but he waited. You told me about your love story growing up. And now what? I don’t get to have one?”

His voice broke completely.

“I’m in love with her, Mom,” he whispered, his hand reaching behind to find yours again. “And I can’t let you or Dad take her away from me.”

The door slammed open with a violent crack, bouncing off the wall behind it. You jumped, your breath caught in your throat as Jay instinctively turned, stepping back to shield you behind him.

His father stood in the doorway, tall and unmoving. His expression was unreadable.

Jay stiffened in front of you, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides as he positioned himself like a barrier. He didn’t say anything. Neither did you. It was like the two of you were back in school, caught sneaking out past curfew, facing down a teacher.

“You’re comparing whatever you have with her to the story of your mother and me,” his father said, his voice calm but sharp, every syllable slicing through the room like glass. “So tell me, Jongseong. What makes you so sure she’s the one?”

Jay blinked. “What?”

The question caught him off guard. Of all the things his father could’ve said… that wasn’t it.

His father took a slow step forward, hands still tucked neatly into his pockets. “You’re willing to give up your education. Your future. Everything your mother and I worked for. You’re willing to throw it all away for her.” He didn’t look at you when he said it, only at Jay. “So explain to me. What makes you think the two of you are so special? What makes you believe this is real? That it’s not just some immature, irresponsible decision for a—” his voice dipped, “—a passing fling.”

You felt the breath leave your lungs.

Jay’s shoulders tightened in front of you, his jaw clenching so tightly you could see the muscles twitch. He didn’t move at first. Just stood there.

You swallowed hard, your eyes locked on the back of Jay’s hoodie, your fingers trembling at your sides.

Jay turned slowly, just enough to glance back at you. His eyes met yours for the briefest second.

He looked back at his father, drawing a breath.

“I know,” Jay said, voice steady, though it cracked faintly at the edges. “I know because I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I’ve never fought this hard for anything before. And it’s not a fling. It’s her. It’s always been her.”

His father raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And that’s supposed to be enough? A feeling?”

“No,” Jay replied, firmer now. “It’s not just a feeling. It’s the fact that I see my entire life with her. Not just today. Not just tomorrow. All of it. I don’t care if we’re rich or broke or living in a shoebox apartment. I want her there with me. I want to wake up next to her, argue with her over dumb things, bring her coffee when she’s tired, learn how to braid our daughter’s hair if we ever have one…that’s how sure I am.”

You blinked, your heart thudding so hard it hurt.

Jay stepped forward, his voice rising slightly. “You want to know what makes this real? It’s that when I think about what makes me feel safe, what makes me feel like I have a home, it’s her. Not a country, not a job, not a title. It’s her.”

He turned and reached for your hand again, threading your fingers through his, holding you tightly like he was afraid the world might tear you away at any moment.

“And if you can’t see that,” Jay said, looking directly into his father’s eyes now, “then maybe it’s not me who’s being reckless. Maybe it’s you for thinking love has to come with a some sort of societal hierarchy.”

The room fell silent again.

Jay’s father didn’t move. His face didn’t change.

“Then so be it,” he said.

Jay stiffened, not expecting him to fold, at least not like this.

“I expect three schools you’re planning to apply to. On my desk. Monday morning.” His gaze flicked between the two of you, briefly, unreadable. “Top three in the country. Or you’re going to Oxford. That’s the deal.”

And just like that, he turned and left.

The sound of his shoes against the hardwood echoed down the hall. The door clicked shut behind him.

You turned slowly to Jay, still gripping his hand, still trying to find your footing.

His eyes were locked on the door his father had disappeared behind. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

You gently brushed your thumb against the back of his hand. “Jong?”

He blinked, once. Then again. And finally turned to look at you.

“He didn’t say no,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “He didn’t… shut the door.”

“No,” you said softly, stepping closer. “He didn’t.”

Jay nodded slowly, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. Not completely.

Because this wasn’t a win.

But it wasn’t a loss either.

–

Things at home were still tense. No one had said much since the confrontation. His dad mostly kept to himself. His mom cooked in silence. Meals were eaten quickly and apart. It felt like everyone was walking on glass, afraid one wrong step would crack it all open again.

You were at Jay’s place, waiting for your mom to finish work so she could swing by and pick you up. The rain had just stopped outside, leaving the windows streaked with droplets, a quiet stillness hanging in the air like the whole world was holding its breath.

You were both sitting cross-legged on his bed, half under the covers, half sprawled out with glossy brochures scattered between the pillows and across the floor. Jay was holding one upside down, dramatically squinting at it.

“Do you think they give scholarships for people who have a traumatic past?” you asked, grinning.

He scoffed. “Please. I deserve a full ride just for surviving my father.”

You laughed, nudging his arm. He retaliated by leaning in, pressing a teasing kiss to your temple, then one to your nose, and then your lips, just a light brush, slow and sweet.

“You’re distracting me,” you mumbled against his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed, grinning. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes, about to swat his shoulder again when the door creaked open.

Both of you froze.

Jay’s mom stood at the doorway, a brochure in her hand, her expression unreadable. She cleared her throat gently. “How about this one?” she asked, her voice even.

You blinked. Jay sat up straighter. “Huh?”

She walked in and handed the brochure over, and as you took it, your fingers grazed hers. It was another local university, one that hadn’t been on either of your lists but was known and reputable. A place his father wouldn’t hate.

And then you understood.

She was helping. In her own way.

Your lips parted slightly.

Jay’s mom sat down beside you on the bed, smoothing her skirt down as she exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes flickering to yours. “For everything you’ve gone through these past few months. I wish you told me the truth. I wish you told me you and Jongseong were together. I would’ve fought harder for the both of you.”

Your throat tightened. You swallowed hard.

“But then again,” she continued, her voice lowering, “I was wrong. You heard what I said that day… about you not being in our world. And I was wrong for thinking that.”

She turned toward you more fully, her tone warm but earnest. “What Jong said was right. At the end of the day, we’re all just people. Status, names, connections… they shouldn’t matter. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel like they did.”

You nodded slowly, blinking through the sting in your eyes. You weren’t sure what to say, maybe because there was too much to say.

–

The sun was merciless, high above the stadium, baking the crowd in waves of heat and happiness. You were squinting into your mom’s phone camera, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jay, both of you dressed in identical deep navy cap and gowns.

Your mortarboard was already slightly crooked. Jay’s tassel kept swaying into his mouth.

“Mom,” you groaned, “that’s like the hundredth picture you’ve taken just today.”

Your mother didn’t even look up from her camera. “And?”

Mrs. Park, standing right beside her, chuckled warmly, nudging your mom like they were old best friends now which, frankly, they kind of always had been. “The two of you look so cute in your cap and gown,” she cooed. “We have to document this. For memory sake, c’mon!”

Jay groaned under his breath but smiled anyway. You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“A little kiss for the camera?” your mom added with a wink.

“Gross, Mom,” you muttered, already turning your head away.

Too late.

Jay took your chin gently and turned your face back toward him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “I won’t say no to a free kiss,” he murmured, smug.

You shoved his chest lightly, but the laughter broke through before you could even pretend to be mad. “Ugh. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Behind you, a familiar voice cut through. “Okay, lovebirds, let’s not forget who the actual valedictorian is.”

You turned just in time to see Jungwon walking up, cap perfectly straight, robe pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight.

And then, Heeseung who was trailing behind him, in a gown that looked like it had been stuffed into a bag.

The sleeves were slightly too short, the zipper was half-stuck, and it hung off one shoulder.

“I can’t believe my parents didn’t spring for a second gown,” Heeseung said, exasperated, lifting a loose sleeve. “I’m stuck wearing my brother’s ratty one from two years ago. I found a mint in the pocket. Unwrapped, by the way. I swear to God, he’s the filthiest creature on Earth.”

Jungwon didn’t even pause. “You look stupid.”

Heeseung blinked back at Jungwon, completely deadpan. “Thank you, Jungwon. As always, a pillar of encouragement.”

Jay snorted into his sleeve. You were already wheezing, clutching your side as the two of them launched into another round of sarcastic bickering that made you question how either of them made it to graduation.

“Oh…hold on,” Heeseung suddenly perked up, biting his lip and raising a brow. “Some girls from the junior classes just showed up to congratulate me.”

You rolled your eyes. Jay muttered, “Here we go…”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Heeseung said, already straightening his sad excuse of a gown, “Won, you’re coming with.”

Jungwon blinked. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“I need a wingman. Jay’s taken, and I need someone to distract the extras while I move in on the main event.”

“Stop talking,” Jungwon said immediately.

“C’mon, please?”

“Just stop talking and I’ll go.”

“Sweet. Let’s go,” Heeseung grinned, already dragging him away.

You and Jay watched them go.

“Are we… sure he graduated?” you asked.

“Honestly?” Jay shrugged. “A miracle.”

But then, a throat cleared.

You turned, laughter freezing in your throat.

Jay’s father stood a few feet away in a crisp suit, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up on his head. He didn’t say a word right away. Just looked at the two of you, at Jay in his cap and gown, hand intertwined with yours.

Jay’s hand stiffened slightly in yours. You looked at him and caught the faintest flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

To be fair, since the Monday Jay had placed the list of his top university applications on his father’s desk and then got into those schools, no less, there hadn’t been much conversation. Just the occasional grunt, nod, or one-word answer. It wasn’t new. Jay never expected his father to be warm. He could live without it. Had done so for most of his life.

But right now, Jay held his breath.

His father stepped forward, slow but sure, gaze unreadable. You tightened your grip on Jay’s hand without realizing it.

He stopped in front of Jay. His eyes scanned him once then paused on the crumpled gown, the slightly crooked cap, and then your intertwined hands.

“Well,” he said, voice low. “You wore the cap properly.”

Jay blinked, unsure if that was a jab or a compliment. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

And then, Jay’s father reached out.

To you.

He adjusted the tassel on your cap, gently sweeping it from the left to the right side.

“You’ve graduated too,” he said, not looking at you directly, but something in his tone softer than before. “Should wear it properly.”

You didn’t move.

Then his father stepped back. He looked at Jay for a long beat, something tight in his jaw, but his voice steadier this time.

“You did good,” he said. “Better than expected.”

That was it.

Jay’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Because those few short words, that deadpan delivery, that subtle nod was his father’s way. And Jay knew, as frustrating and emotionally constipated as it was, that was as close as he’d ever get to hearing “I’m proud of you” out loud.

Before either of you could say anything, Mr. Park had already turned away, his footsteps slow and composed as he made his way through the crowd. He nodded at your mother and Mrs. Park in passing, the gesture polite.

Then, weaving through the field, he crossed paths with Heeseung who, at that moment, was mid–peace sign, tongue out, and clearly trying to impress a group of younger girls.

Mr. Park came to a halt. Looked him up. Then down.

“Fix your collar, boy,” he said in the most unimpressed tone known to man, “You look stupid.”

Heeseung blinked. He turned to Jungwon, stunned. You and Jay were already doubled over trying not to laugh.

A minute later, Heeseung made his way back to the two of you.

“Guys,” he said, eyes wide, “who was that and why was he mean?”

Jay rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, that’s… my dad.”

“Oh,” Heeseung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, he seems lovely.”

“I lowkey agree with him, though,” Jungwon added, eyeing Heeseung’s wrinkled sleeves.

“That’s because you’re an asshole,” Heeseung snapped.

You turned toward Jay, stifling your laugh behind your hand as Heeseung and Jungwon continued to bicker beside you.

Jay slipped his hand into yours giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, and when you glanced up, his gaze was already on you.

“Hard to believe we made it here,” he murmured.

You smiled, stepping closer until your forehead touched his. “Well… I kinda had a feeling we’d make it.”

“Weren’t you the same person who cried for two hours because you thought I was leaving?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“Still… I would’ve chosen you,” he said quietly, just for you. “Even if it meant packing up and leaving with nothing but you.”

You leaned in, kissed him gently, then pulled back just enough to speak. “Lucky for you,” you said, your smile matching his, “I came with everything we need.”

“Okay, kids! Group photo!” Mrs. Park called out, already motioning for you, Jay, Heeseung, and Jungwon to squeeze together.

You groaned playfully, but there was no use resisting. Jay laced his fingers with yours and tugged you forward, Heeseung fixed his borrowed gown while Jungwon rolled his eyes and tried to smooth his already-perfect one.

“Closer!” your mom called, squinting at the screen. “Act like you like each other!”

Heeseung threw an arm over Jay’s shoulder. “That’s a big ask.”

“Oh, as if you’re any better.” Jungwon scoffed, flicking Heeseung’s forehead.

“Smile!” Mrs. Park added, then laughed. “Okay, last one and then we’ll go for dinner!”

The four of you leaned in, grinning wide for the camera. Jay’s hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, close and quick, pressing a kiss to your cheek just as the shutter clicked.

You squeaked in surprise, eyes wide, but the warmth on your face gave you away instantly.

“Now that’s burned into our graduation photo. Great,” Jungwon groaned.

“Unless… you want all of us to kiss you too?” Heeseung suggested, wiggling his brows.

Jungwon blinked. “No. I don’t really… I don’t want that.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, already leaning in.

“Let’s do it,” Jay said, grinning.

Before Jungwon could escape, the three of you planted a kiss on his cheeks all at once.

“I’VE GOT COOTIES NOW!”

267 notes · View notes

wonyology · 3 days ago

Text

What's Wrong with Secretary Seol? (m!reader x NMIXX's SULLYOON)

masterlist

Summary: A CEO and his secretary have always kept things professional. But the romantic tension between them has been building for months. One day, everything suddenly shifts and the feelings they've been ignoring can't stay hidden anymore.

tags(?): ceo x secretary, office romance, fluff, unspoken feelings, love triangle? i don't even know man

SULLYOON x yourself/Original Male Character (x another idol)

Word count: ~11k - i wrote this because i love sullyoon so much + @midatwrtr's sully fic + @mossandink's welcome gift?

this is a one shot but if u guys want it to be a series, scroll to the end and leave ur comments <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Hannam-dong, Yongsan-gu, Seoul

“It’s not late, eomma.”

You said as you calmly laid your coffee cup down on the table with a soft clink. The morning light filtered through the giant windows next to you, casting morning golden streaks across the office. Outside, Hannam-dong - the country’s oasis of wealth and luxury - was busy as usual at this time of the day. But inside, everything was quiet except for the hum of the AC and the sound of your mother shifting on the soft leather sofa. She looked completely at home despite the modern space, a judgemental eyebrow arching at you.

“You’re thirty three, Changmin-ah. That’s too late.”

“Dad married you when he was thirty six. And I’m thirty two in international age.” your voice was filled with amusement as you leaned back in your chair.

“That was different. Society’s changed.” she shot you a look.

“Really, eomma?”

“Yes, really!” your mother huffed, crossing her arms, almost offended that you’d asked. “Our country’s birthrate is in crisis. You have to do your part.”

“My part?” you nearly choked.

“Yes. As a citizen. As my son. As someone with decent genes.” she pointed at you. “Tall, educated, healthy, financially stable, good looks. What are you waiting for?”

You let out a dry laugh. “I founded this company. I pay taxes. I contribute to this country's fashion industry. I already did my part, eomma.”

She scoffed, sitting straighter. The morning light hit her pearl earrings just right - classic, elegant. “Taxes and high-end clothing don’t give me grandchildren.”

You were ready with a come back. But the look in her eyes stopped you - not annoyed, not amused, just… tired. She looked down at her hands for a moment before speaking again, her voice quiet but filled with sadness.

“Me and your father aren’t getting any younger, Changminie. We are almost getting to the age where we have more hospital checkups than family gatherings. Do you realize that?”

“Eomma…”

“You’ve never introduced a single girlfriend to us. Not once.” she added, her gaze lifting to meet yours. “Your cousins are having babies, getting married, showing up at Chuseok with rings on their fingers and someone beside them. But you… you work day and night. For what?”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about this before. Now, your mom made you even more hyper aware of the silence in the room. You rubbed a hand over your face and sighed.

“It’s just…” your voice was low, rough. “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time, eomma.”

“And why is that?” she asked gently, as a mother who was finally hearing something she’d waited a long time to understand. You exhaled and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

“I don’t know… I guess I just got comfortable living like this. Letting someone into my life right now doesn’t feel right.”

Your mother stayed silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer than before.

“That’s not comfort, Changmin-ah. That’s just loneliness you got used to.”

You looked up slowly. She wasn’t scolding you. “I’m not asking you to fall in love tomorrow, honey. But open the door, at least. Just enough for someone to come in.”

You hummed. Your mother remained on the sofa, smoothing the silk scarf around her neck.

“Anyway.” she said, exhaling as if she was letting out all her frustrations and worries. “I didn’t just come here to nag you. I came to bring something for Yoon-Ah.”

“For her? Not your son?” you blinked.

“You?” she smirked. “You can take care of yourself. You’re a grown man.”

You laughed under your breath, knowing your mom could put you in your place anytime she wanted. She didn’t even wait for your reply. Instead, she reached for the bag beside her legs, lifting it carefully and showed you like it was some rare offerings.

“Some premium ginseng extract and a few tonic packets from that clinic in Cheongdam. You know, that one all the chaebol wives and mistresses go to. Some black sesame snacks too. Good for stamina and stress.”

“For Yoon-Ah? Really?” you asked again, eyebrows raised.

“Of course. She mentioned she’s been tired since you made her work too much.” she glared at you, that one look only a mother could give. “I should scold you more for that, you little rascal.”

You let out a helpless chuckle, raising your hands up.

“She insists on staying late, eomma. I drive her home everytime.”

“Are you two…?” your mother trailed off, narrowing her eyes as she tried to dig for some clues - subtle but sharp.

“Are we what, eomma?”

Your mother pursed her lips, examining you like she could read something off your face like she’d always done back when you were in high school. Well, not anymore. Years had gone by and you’d learnt to adapt. Knowing she couldn’t defeat you, she then leaned back on the leather soft with a sigh.

“I’m just saying, Changminie… you two seem close. Maybe too comfortable with each other. And you light up whenever you talk about her.”

You couldn’t argue with your mother now. You knew she was right. You just rubbed the back of your neck and avoided your mother’s gaze. But before she could press further, a soft chime came up from the intercom on your desk.

“Sajang-nim*... may I come in?”

*사장/sajang: honorific term to generally refers to the company's president or ceo

Yoon-Ah’s voice, warm and familiar, filtered through the speaker. The voice that always gave you extra motivation when you sat down on this chair every workday.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, come in, secretary Seol.”

The door creaked open, and there she was - your favorite person in this entire building, your secretary.

Seol Yoon-Ah

She stepped inside with her usual grace - dressed in a crisp grey blazer and matching skirt, her white button up shirt was tucked neatly, her slim black tie accentuating the sharpness of her whole outfit. Her long hair flowed effortlessly, softening her features. In one hand, she held her work iPad, pressed gently against her chest.

Why do you look so beautiful every goddamn morning?

She bowed politely. “Good morning, sajang-nim. Eomeo-nim.”

You nodded in acknowledgement - maybe a little too fast - while your mother instantly smiled, sitting more up right on the sofa.

“Aigoo!” She was visibly brightened, tone warm and affectionate. “You’ve gotten even more elegant in person, Yoon-Ah ah. How have you been, darling? Come here.”

Yoon-Ah walked over with a gentle smile, settling gracefully beside your mother on the sofa. As she sat, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, her posture was elegant yet unassuming. Your mother reached for her hand instantly.

“Look at you, so beautiful. Are you sure you’re not secretly royalty?”

Yoon-Ah laughed softly, cheeks tinting pink. “You flatter me too much, eomeo-nim.”

“Nonsense.” your mother said, patting her hand. “You’re so polite, well put together. What do you think about my son? Is he good looking?”

Yoon-Ah blinked, caught off guard for a second. Then she regained her composure instantly and smiled. “Sajang-nim certainly is very… charismatic.”

You swallowed, more curious now.

“Charismatic, huh? Not handsome?” your mother grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. Yoon-Ah turned slightly, glancing at you with an unreadable look before replying.

“That too. He has… his own charms, eomeo-nim.”

Your mother gasped softly. “Did you hear that, Changminie? ‘His own charms’. Yoon-Ah just said you’re just barely tolerable.”

You scoffed. “Eomma.”

She just waved you off with a smile and turned back to Yoon-Ah.

“Honestly, though. You’re so composed and smart, and beautiful on top of that. I don’t know how my son landed a secretary like you, darling.”

Yoon-Ah chuckled lightly, her gaze lowering. “He didn’t, eomeo-nim. I just applied.”

Yeah.

Your mother beamed.

“Well, whatever fate brought you two together, I’m grateful. You brighten his life up just by being by his side.”

You glanced at Yoon-Ah. She was still smiling politely, fingers resting lightly on her lap, eyes attentive to your mother. But something about the way the sunlight caught the curve of her cheeks, the way her hair framed her face, the softness in her expression - it ached your heart so much, in a good way, of course.

You imagined her beside you, but not in the office. Maybe somewhere quieter, warmer. Her legs curled up on the living room floor as she tried to wrangle a giggling little girl into a sweater, laughter echoing through the house. That little girl? Your daughter - with Yoon-Ah’s eyes and long lashes, her perfect nose and maybe your attitude. You saw yourself sitting nearby, watching them - your daughter, your wife. Then the little girl turned, face scrunched dramatically as she ran into your lap.

‘Appa! Eomma doesn’t like meee!’ she whined.

You could hear Yoon-Ah groaning, exasperated but trying not to laugh.

“Your daughter is being dramatic again, honey. Just because I said no candy before dinner.”

You scooped the little girl up with a grin.

“Don’t worry, princess. I like you much more than eomma.”

“Yah!” came Yoon-Ah’s voice next to you as she smacked your shoulder. “I’m right here.”

The little girl giggled, burying her face into your shoulder as you kissed the top of her head. Everything felt so warm, so peaceful, so dreamlike…

Dreamlike? Then-

“Changmin-ah?” your mom’s voice cut through, snapping you back to reality immediately. You blinked, eyes adjusting again to the sunlight in the room. Yoon-Ah was still sitting on the sofa with her polite smile and graceful posture. The fantasy was gone, but it lingered tenderly in your mind.

Damn it…

“What were you saying, eomma?”

Your mother chuckled, eyes darting between the two of you. “Nothing important. I’m about to leave now.” She then stood up with a pleasant sigh, smoothing her jacket as she glanced at Yoon-Ah again. “Don’t work too hard, darling. Thank you for keeping my little idiot in line.”

Yoon-Ah rose gracefully. “Of course, eomeo-nim. Thank you for visiting.”

Your mother leaned in, patting her lightly on the arm.

“Don’t let him work too hard, okay? And next time, come visit me at my house even without him around.”

You watched the exchange quietly, heart still beating a little too fast from the daydream you hadn’t meant to fall into.

“Take care, eomma.” you said as she walked out, giving you a knowing look.

“I always do. Maybe you should listen to yourself.” she said, pausing at the door for a moment. “Especially with Yoon-Ah around.”

Then she was gone and the room felt quiet. You looked at Yoon-Ah as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, again, still looking like the wife from your imagination.

What the hell am I going to do with these feelings?

“Are you okay, sajang-nim?” her voice was calm, but you knew she noticed something.

“Yeah… I just spaced out.”

Yoon-Ah tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“You looked like you were thinking very hard about something.” she said it innocently. But you could catch the tease under her tone.

“Nothing important, secretary Seol.” you tried to keep your expression neutral.

“Mm.” she hummed, unconvinced. “It didn’t seem like nothing to me, sajang-nim.”

You shifted in your seat. “My mom likes you, that’s all.”

“Ah. She’s very sweet but I’m guessing that’s not the part that made you zone out.”

You cleared your throat, sitting up straighter. Time to take back control.

“Alright… let’s just get to business. What did you come in here for?” your voice was firmer now, professional mode.

Yoon-Ah nodded, switching back to her professional mode.

“Well, it’s Friday so not much on the schedule. You have two meetings to review the new releases. Then just a short stop this afternoon at the photoshoot at our studio. You’re supposed to hand Karina-ssi a bouquet and take a photo with her.”

“Marketing duty, huh?”

“The team insisted.” Yoon-Ah replied, lips curving slightly. “PR duty, sajang-nim.”

You let out a breath, relieved. “I’m not complaining. It’s not every day that I get to take a picture with Karina. And after that, I’m done?”

“Barring any emergencies.” she said, finally looking up at you. “You’ve been working too much lately anyway, sajang-nim. You’re… surprisingly efficient.” the way she said it felt more than just an observation.

“Surprisingly? You’ve been with me for 3 years since the start of this company and ‘surprisingly’? Really, secretary Seol?”

She grinned, not the least apologetic. “Just keeping you humble, sajang-nim.”

“You’re getting bolder.”

“Maybe I am, sajang-nim. Or maybe you’re getting softer.”

You smiled at that. There was a beat of quiet as something a little warmer settled into the room.

“Why do you still refuse to call me oppa, Seol Yoon-Ah?” you asked, tone light and curious. “I mean, Changmin-ssi is also okay to me. It’s not like we are strangers. I gave you permission a long time ago.”

She smiled to let you have just a little glimpse of what she was thinking.

“We have to be professional, sajang-nim.” she said, emphasizing your title to put distance between the two of you, though her tone did the complete opposite. Then, she added a soft, teasing line.

“Besides… you’d get too happy if I called you oppa. And I’m not here to feed your ego, sajang-nim. I’m here to help you be more efficient and manage your schedule.”

She looked back down at her iPad, the twitch on the corner of her lips signaled a quiet victory.

Not so early.

The thought barely settled before you stood up, rounding your desk slowly. She didn’t look up right away but you saw her finger pausing over the screen as she felt you closing the distance. You stopped in front of her, letting your presence linger just enough to make her glance up.

“Then what about that night?” you smirked. “You got so drunk I really struggled to drive you home and carry you… and you kept mumbling ‘oppa’ against my chest, secretary Seol.”

Her eyes widened, lashes fluttered just once. That alone told you she knew exactly what night you were talking about. The memory hit her before she could guard herself. You didn’t stop.

“If I recall correctly.” you said, leaning down next to her ear. “You kept biting me everywhere, crying and complaining that I don’t give you enough attention at work.”

Her breath caught. She was caught between scandalized and speechless. For once, your intelligent secretary couldn’t come up with a come back as a flush crept into her cheeks and her grip on the iPad tightened.

“You kept calling ‘oppa’. You even fondled my chest too, secretary Seol. We might have to get HR involved.” you added, watching her squirm slightly under your gaze. Then you leaned in closer slowly to lower yourself beside her ear until she could feel your breath against her skin. Her shoulders stiffened but she didn’t move away. You murmured in a near perfect imitation of Yoon-Ah’s voice, with a smirk.

“Don’t leave me yet, oppa… please…”

Then you lifted your hand and gently clasped her wrist, startling her.

“You held on to it like this and wouldn’t let go.”

Yoon-Ah’s eyes moved to where your hand grabbed her wrist. She remembered. The ever professional Seol Yoon-Ah was thrown off balance, blinking like she couldn’t decide whether to pull away or freeze.

“Still no thank you from you yet, secretary Seol. It’s been almost two months now.”

You could see the engine working overtime in her eyes - calculating, ready to strike back with something sharp and clever while being flustered, exposed at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, lowering your voice even more. “Cat got your tongue? Or did oppa make too much of an impression saving you that night?”

Yoon-Ah then quickly yanked her wrist back like your touch burned her. But you already did too much damage. She was blushing, her posture stiff, mouth open but couldn’t find the words.

“Sajang-nim.” she finally muttered, brows drawn tightly together. She turned her head sideways to hide the rising color in her cheeks.

Cute.

You leaned back slightly, just enough to let the tension breathe.

“Still waiting on that thank you, by the way.” you said, enjoying this too much. “You’re usually quicker than this, Yoon-Ah-ssi.”

“Thank you, sajang-nim.” she muttered like it physically hurt her pride to say it.

“Just that?” you titled your head. “You think that’s enough after everything I went through, secretary Seol?”

She huffed and glanced up sharply. “Do you want an award ceremony, sajang-nim?”

“Interest. That’s all. The economy’s been rough lately.” You shrugged, nonchalant.

Yoon-ah’s eyes narrowed but couldn’t hold back the smile forming on her lips.

“What kind of interest are we talking about here?”

“Maybe…” you looked up to the ceiling, pretending to think. “A kiss on the cheek should cover the fee, secretary Seol.”

Her scoff was immediate but the joy in her eyes betrayed her. “Is that how you do business now? Bullying your way through outstanding debts.”

You smiled. “Only with clients who get drunk and call me oppa while I carry them bridal style to their bedroom.”

Yoon-Ah stared at you harder, but the red on her cheeks didn’t help much. “You’re lucky I haven’t reported that night to anyone, sajang-nim.”

“Ah… but I only carried you home and took care of you that night.” you said, pretending to be offended. “And that would mean confessing to fondling your boss? A scandal!?”

Yoon-Ah leaned closer to you with a glare that lacked any real threat.

“Keep pushing it and I’m writing a full report, sajang-nim.”

You grinned, leaning down closer - your forehead almost touching hers.

“Make sure to include the part where you begged me to stay too, secretary Seol.”

Yoon-Ah smirked. “One day, I’m going to put you in your place, sajang-nim.”

You tilted your head slightly, voice teasing. “I’m counting on it. But for now… cheek?”

She stared at you for a beat - long enough to weigh in her options even though the glint in her eye already gave her away. That cute flush on her cheeks hadn’t gone anywhere either. Finally, she let out a small sigh - resignation and mischief on her face.

“Close your eyes, sajang-nim.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t want to peek during an award ceremony.” she said, her voice filled with sudden happiness.

This girl…

Your brow arched but you obliged, shutting your eyes with a sigh. “Fine.”

A few seconds went by, still nothing. Then-

You felt a feather light brush of her lips landing just shy of your cheek - barely a kiss. Yoon-Ah was clearly teasing you. You opened one eye to glare at her.

“That was air.”

Your secretary was already retreating, trying not to laugh.

“It still counts, sajang-nim. The ceremony's over.”

“No, no, no.” you reached out and grabbed her wrist, firm but not enough to hurt her. “Secretary Seol, I demanded a kiss.”

“Sajang-nimmm~” Yoon-Ah whined, making your chest much warmer. She gave your grip a half hearted tug but didn’t really try to escape. She still didn’t give up on suppressing a smile though she clearly knew she was failing miserably.

“You’re abusing your power~” she pouted. Too cute.

Damn…

“Aegyo won’t let you get away with this, secretary Seol.” your jaw tightened slightly. You tried so hard not to look away for a second. Seol Yoon-Ah was a dangerous woman. She really had no idea what she was doing to you. Or maybe she did. Who knew?

She then scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue to you - a final act of rebellion before stepping even closer, eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Fine.” she mumbled. “One real kiss.”

“So easily?”

“I just want you to shut up, sajang-nim.”

You were still suspicious. You let go of her wrist - only to take both of them seconds later instantly. Your grip was firm as your thumbs brushed the inside of her wrists. Yoon-Ah blinked up at you.

“In case you try to escape. I’m not taking an ‘air’ kiss this time, secretary Seol.”

Suddenly, her entire expression shifted - a flicker of confidence and mischief lighting up her face. Her lips curled up, slow and dangerous.

“Close your eyes, sajang-nim.”

You sighed and shut your eyes again. That smug expression on her face left you with no choice anyway. You could her Yoon-Ah tiptoeing slightly, her gentle inhale, the little rustle of her clothes before-

Her lips pressed against your cheek.

No teasing or light ‘air’ this time.

Yoon-Ah kissed your cheek long and firm, her lips molding to your skin with a boldness that stole your breath away. You felt the way she tilted her head slightly, swaying into the kiss like she meant every second of it. You wanted more. So much more. But-

Muah!

She pulled away. Your skin was now warm with her lipstick stamped there like her branding. When you opened your eyes, Yoon-Ah was still close - too close.

“How about that, oppa~?” she murmured, voice a little breathless.

You tried and held onto her gaze, almost failing to act unaffected. Slowly, you let go of her wrists, your fingers intentionally lingering on for a few seconds before slipping away completely.

“Not bad.” you said, voice trying to sound confident.

Yoon-Ah blinked. A shy blush bloomed across her face with a nervous smile to replace her confidence just seconds ago. You then cleared your throat - subtle but necessary - before glancing toward the leather sofa and nodding your chin in its.

“There are some ginseng extracts, a few tonic packets and uh… some black sesame snacks in that bag over there. My mom brought it over for you.” you said, walking to it. “From that clinic in Cheongdam, you know?”

You picked up the bag and held it out to her. Yoon-Ah followed you, cheeks still pink from earlier and took the bag slowly.

“Oh… that one clinic all the rich people’s wives and mistresses go to?” she said, her voice a little soft and flustered. “Your mother told me a lot about it, sajang-nim. We chat a lot, actually.”

“Since when?”

Yoon-Ah hesitated. “Umm… since forever? She texts me all the time and asks about you, your dating life… us…”

“And you tell her I make you work too much? If anything, I make you work less and come home early.”

Yoon-Ah pretended to let out a small cough, eyes darting to the clock on the wall as she avoided your gaze.

“A- Anyway… it’s almost time for your first meeting this morning, sajang-nim.”

You narrowed your eyes, dragging your feet back to your desk with a sigh to prepare for the meeting.

“I’ll let it slide this time, secretary Seol.”

No, I won’t.

You shifted through the clutter of documents on your desk, ignoring the warmth on your skin but paused when you noticed your secretary lingering around before walking toward you.

“Wait, sajang-nim.” she spoke up, softly. “You still have my lipstick mark on… your cheek.”

Your brows raised as she pulled a tissue from the little box on your desk and reached up, dabbing at the spot with what seemed like precision and maybe, just maybe, love? Or just a bit of affection? You hoped so. When she pulled back, you glanced at her - flushed, shy, trying to hide it. After all that messing around not even 20 minutes ago.

“Reapply your lipsticks, too, secretary Seol.” you said as you continued to search through the documents, not looking at her. “You know where my restroom is. I’ll wait.”

Yoon-Ah lowered her head into a small bow.

“Ah… thank you, sajang-nim.”

The morning room buzzed with the quiet rhythm of updates and reviews, slides clicking forward one by one. You sat at the head of the sleek conference room, listening to everything with Yoon-Ah next to you, taking notes with her usual precision.

Three years ago, you left one of the biggest names in Korea’s fashion game as their rising creative director - young, bold, and already successful. People thought you were crazy, even your parents stopped you at first. But you took a gamble anyway, at the age of 30.

Now? You were the CEO and founder of AVEC MAEUM. Get it?

AVEC is French for ‘with’. MAEUM (마음) is Korean for ‘heart/mind’. ‘With Heart’.

You’d thought it sounded cringy at first but people seemed to love it. It was still rising, still not quite a household name yet. But you’d come far. You had your own fashion label, your own team, and your own building in Hannam-dong - the land of the rich right in Yongsan-gu, Seoul. Buying this place to be the headquarters had been a risk - a sleek, five story building with somewhat clean, modern architecture. It obviously wasn’t the biggest or flashiest on the block, but to you, it meant everything. And it felt like something to be proud of.

You looked briefly at Yoon-Ah beside you - her posture straight, her expression calm and unreadable as always.

Still so goddamn beautiful.

You still remembered the day she first walked in for the interview - back when AVEC MAEUM was just your dream and a cheap nameplate taped to a rented shoebox in Intaewon 1-dong. You remembered being struck by her beauty.

Yoon-Ah had worn a white blouse with her sleeves rolled up just under her elbows, layered under a black sleeveless sweater. What caught your eyes the most was the way she chose to style her hair and skirt. Her long, light brown was parted and brought forward over both shoulders while the back was secured by a delicate black bow - a detail that made her look both younger and more elegant. Her skirt - one side was gray, the other black. It wasn’t flashy but it was bold in its own way. She had been fresh out of university then, too nervous. She’d clutched her portfolio with both hands like it might save her and land her the job. You remembered leaning back in that old office chair and asking Yoon-Ah while gesturing around the room.

“Why’d you apply here, honestly? I mean… aren’t you scared this might be a… I don’t know, money laundering scheme. This company has nothing right now, Yoon-Ah-ssi.”

She let out a tiny, nervous laugh.

“I… um… I looked you up before I applied.” she said it too fast, glancing down for a second like she regretted blurting it out. “I- I read about your work. The stuff you did at your pre- previous company… The 2019 one.”

You didn’t say anything and let her go on for another 5 minutes. Yoon-Ah fumbled a little more, both endearingly and awkwardly.

“Hmm.” you nodded eventually, a smile was forming on your lips. “I like the way you style yourself, Yoon-Ah-ssi. Especially the two color skirt… and uh, your hair.”

That bow had stayed in your memory ever since. You loved it whenever she styled her hair like that to work - something about it always pulled you back to your first meeting, to the shy Yoon-Ah.

From that day on, the two of you built more than just AVEC MAEUM together. You taught her a lot, from dealing with fashion related problems, difficult clients to how to be passive aggressive in meetings. Yoon-Ah picked up everything fast. You knew she was smart but she’d been outdoing your expectations after her first few weeks - always delivering more than what was asked. Still, no matter how much time passed or how confident she appeared with others, Yoon-Ah always carried a trace of that shyness when she was around you. It showed in the way she adjusted her outfits before walking into your office, the way she hesitated for a few seconds before speaking up in meetings if you were in the room.

However, in recent months, things had shifted - a slow, complicated push and pull neither of you wanted to define out loud. Late night conversations in the office. Lingering glances everywhere you went. Her being mad at you for forgetting buying her gifts after a business trip in Japan, only to bring you coffee the next morning - made just the way you liked it - with a flirty smile you couldn’t stop dreaming about. She started standing closer and leaning in more. You both intentionally stuck tightly to each other’s side in the elevator, even when it was empty. You’d started driving her home every day from work too - a quiet routine that had begun just 4 months ago.

Still, Seol Yoon-Ah always knew exactly when to draw a line, when to turn her head away to remind you that she was still your secretary. But… the kiss on the cheek she gave you this morning was a great leap forward.

And you wanted more.

So much more.

“Sajang-nim.” her voice broke through your thoughts, soft but pointed. You blinked, and there was the composed, capable woman seated beside you.

“Umm… you were spacing out, sajang-nim. They’ve just finished the presentation.”

Right, still in the middle of the meeting.

You sat up straighter, coughed lightly and picked up where she left off.

Another meeting soon followed. When it finally ended, most of the team filtered out quickly for lunch. You returned to your office and collapsed immediately on the leather sofa. Yoon-Ah walked in later carrying a small tray: two lunch boxes and drinks. She calmly set everything down on the coffee table then took her seat next to you.

“Lunch before meeting Karina, sajang-nim.” she said while unwrapping her utensils and handing over yours without looking.

“Ughh… finally. Karina~” you sang with exaggerated dread and dragged yourself upright.

“Aghh.” Yoon-Ah suddenly pouted as she peeled off the lid of her lunch box. “Again~?” She whined under her breath, poking at a neatly packed pile of green vegetables. “They always forget I hate these…”

Here come your rescue.

You immediately leaned forward, opening your mouth. “Ahh-”

Yoon-Ah froze with her chopsticks in hand, staring at you as her lips twitched into a smile.

“You’re unbelievable, sajang-nim.”

You didn’t move, just tilted your head and widened your eyes in the most obnoxiously innocent expression you could ever make. Her cheeks were already pink as she picked up a piece of broccoli and brought it hesitantly to your mouth. You bit down with a smug grin, chewing satisfyingly. Yoon-Ah looked away the second you started chewing, muttering.

“This better not become an everyday thing, sajang-nim.”

You swallowed, still smug. “I might make this a clause when we discuss your renewal contract, secretary Seol.”

Yoon-Ah narrowed her eyes at you, scoffing under her breath but the pink on her cheeks deepened.

“I’m writing a report to HR next Monday.”

You nudged her knee. She picked up another piece of green and held it out silently. You then leaned in with no hesitation and took it with a happy hum.

“... You’re enjoying this too much, sajang-nim.” Yoon-ah said, picking up another piece.

“You’re lucky your boss is a good eater.” you mumbled, earning a quick jab of her elbow on your shoulder. This went on quietly, rhythmically - her feeding you vegetables, you chewing with exaggerated joy, her pretending not to smile as she emptied every last piece of green from her lunch box into your mouth. By the end, the only things left was her rice, some meat and a few side dishes. And that smile she was struggling to hide on her lips.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The city rolled past outside the tinted windows of your GLE Coupe, sunlight bouncing off the glass. You had one hand on the steering wheel, the other rested lazily on your lap. You glanced sideways at Yoon-Ah, who was puffing her cheeks in and out, scrolling through something on her phone.

“Okay, sajang-nim. Balance game.” Her tone was light, teasing. “Have Samsung chaebol level wealth and power… or stay exactly as you are right now - same wealth, same power?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Really?”

She didn’t look up from her phone, her voice singing. “Answer~”

“Stay as I am now.” You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. That made her glance at you.

“You’re passing on generational wealth and the power to boss the president around, sajang-nim?”

You shrugged. “I mean, Samsung level wealth and power means I’d have to work pretty much every day. Get in a scandal every few years, get involved in political stuff, basically no freedom to do what I want in public. Sometimes spend a few months in jail waiting to get pardoned… Meh, not worth it.”

Yoon-Ah tilted her head and hummed. “Mm… interesting.”

“I mean… I have money now, don’t I? I won’t even get to spend like half of it before I die so chaebol level wealth doesn’t really mean much to me.”

Yoon-Ah leaned back against the headrest, turning slightly to study your profile.

“... I get the feeling you’d spoil your kids with all your wealth, sajang-nim.”

You snorted. “Why is that, secretary Seol?”

“You just have that whole vibe around you, sajang-nim. You’d build a whole private playground before they even learn to walk.”

You’re damn right, secretary Seol.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Yoon-Ah smiled, teasing. “It’s not, unless you want them to turn into little monsters who throw tantrums if they don’t get what they want.”

You chuckled. “C’mon. I’d raise them better than that.”

A moment of comfortable silence passed before you asked.

“Okay, your turn. Son or daughter?”

Yoon-Ah didn’t even hesitate with her answer. “Daughter.”

Your fingers tapped the steering wheel again - thoughtlessly this time. You hadn’t meant to. It just happened. You thought of your daydream again this morning when she was talking to your mother. A family of your own, with Yoon-Ah and your daughter. A happy life.

Happy…

You blinked the thought away, eyes still on the road. Must’ve been your mom’s fault. She’d been yapping about you starting a family too much lately. But things didn’t alw-

“Would you prefer a daughter, sajang-nim?” Yoon-Ah snapped you back to reality.

“Huh? Yeah. I’ve always wanted a daughter. Daughters seem… sweet.”

She hummed again with that same amused tone of her.

“Mm. I can see that.”

“See what?”

Yoon-Ah pretended to think. “Just picturing you getting wrapped around her little finger, sajang-nim. You playing with princess dolls to make your daughter laugh, letting her apply makeup on you…”

“Yeah. I would enjoy that a lot.” the words came out more naturally than you expected. Yoon-Ah didn’t say anything at first. She flicked her gaze toward you briefly before returning to the window.

“So when do you plan to settle down, sajang-nim?” Her tone was light and careful, but not meaningless.

“Why?” you kept your eyes on the road. “You planning to recommend someone to me, secretary Seol?”

Yoon-Ah let out a soft scoff. “Do you even have a girlfriend right now, sajang-nim?”

And there it was - a quiet check. To see if you had one. To see if that romantic tension between you two all these months was genuine.

“Obviously not. Why do you think my mother keeps coming over to nag me every week?”

“...Your mother just wants you to be happy, I guess.” her voice came up softer this time.

You glanced over at her again. The corners of her lips turned up just a bit but her eyes, staring out the window, didn’t quite match the smile.

“Okay, secretary Seol.” you said after clearing your throat lightly. “Balance game again.”

That got her attention. Her head tilted slightly.

“Men your age… ” you paused. “Or… let’s just say, men… in their early thirties?”

You didn’t even try to hide who you meant. Yoon-Ah pressed her lips together - tight, like she was holding something back.

“Why, sajang-nim? Asking for a friend?” That flicker of amusement beneath her expression showed you she knew exactly what you meant. She let the question hang for a moment too long, lips still curved. Then she answered, casually.

“Early thirties, I think.”

Fuck yeah!

“More stable. More… mature.” she added. “But of course, that’s assuming he’s not my boss.”

And there it was again. The line Seol Yoon-Ah always drew. Not too close. Not too far.

What about the past few months?

You let out a breath through your nose. Your fingers then tightened slightly on the steering wheel. The silence stretched - not tense, but thoughtful. You felt a quiet little ache underneath your ribs. Yoon-Ah knew the effect she had on you. Tease you just enough and stay just far enough.

“Mm. Got it.”

You finally muttered, not wanting to be heard. She glanced at you - who was now looking like a kicked puppy. You didn’t notice it but her expression softened as she spoke, like she really wanted you to hear it.

“... That’s just assuming. But assumptions can change.”

Okay...

You didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride but your grip on the steering wheel eased, just slightly. You finally pulled up at the studio parking lot after 10 more minutes of driving. From the passenger seat, Yoon-Ah glanced at her phone then at the building. “They’re in the middle of the shoot.” she murmured. You reached behind your seat, grabbed the bouquet meant for Karina - wrapped to perfection, all PR polished - and stepped out, the car door shutting behind you with a soft thud. You circled around to Yoon-Ah's side and opened the door.

“What kind of boss drives his secretary around and opens the door for her, sajang-nim?” she asked, voice teasing.

You replied flatly, still a bit hurt from your last interaction in the car.

“The really good kind. The handsome kind. The caring kind.”

She let out a soft laugh, tilting her head as she stepped out.

“Mm. Must be exhausting being all three.”

You didn’t smile, not yet. “It’s worth it. If she notices.”

She paused at that just for a second. And in that second, something shifted in her eyes.

“...You should save that line for Karina, sajang-nim.” she said and smoothed down the front of her skirt, voice a little softer than before. “She’s the one getting the flower, today.”

Wasn’t a jab, not really.

Still, it made you fall silent. Because under that teasing edge, there was something else, something unspoken. You looked at her to try and catch it but it was too late, she was already stepping past you and walking toward the studio entrance like nothing had happened. You then adjusted your grip on the bouquet and followed.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, it meant everything.

The studio door shut behind you with a loud click, muffling the city noise outside. Inside, everything was bright, cinematic - spotlights humming, stylists moving in rhythm, racks of clothing everywhere. You and Yoon-Ah walked past the staff, bowing and greeting. They led you to near the center. And there she was.

aespa’s Karina

Wow…

She was kneeling in front of the green screen, her unique plaid dress hugged her perfectly at the waist. Her hair was sleek, falling down in front of one shoulder, leaving the other bare. A leather jacket was slipping down her arms.

Huh, I designed that jacket.

Everything she wore just looked so effortlessly beautiful and expensive, even the platform sneakers.

“We just started 20 minutes ago, sajang-nim. Sorry for making you wait like this.” a staff member spoke up.

“No. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” you quickly whispered back. “You guys are working hard.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the idol.

The camera shuttered again. Karina shifted to lie on her stomach, legs in the air, the dress riding up just slightly as she propped her chin on her hand. The pose looked casual but you knew how precise every tilt of her head was. Her bare shoulders caught the light just right. The rings you worked on hugged her fingers. She looked great in everything.

“Cut.” the photographer. “That’s beautiful, everyone. Let’s take a break and reset the lighting for the next setup.”

Karina pushed herself up slowly, movements pretty even off camera. She didn’t look over right away but she must’ve known you were here. You two had met a few times before but never really talked - meetings to prepare for this collab, at some parties... In all those encounters, there had always been this weird tension between the two of you.

“Wipe, please.” her manager called. Then, a stylist instantly ran forward with a tissue, dabbing the corner of Karina’s mouth delicately while she sipped from a straw. Her lips parted slightly, a soft breath came out as she adjusted the leather jacket.

You felt Yoon-Ah’s intense gaze on you from the side - sharp and intense - but she stayed silent. You stepped forward but stopped almost instantly. Because Karina’s eyes finally lifted to you. The moment her eyes found yours, the corners of her mouth almost twitched into a smile. Not quite a smile yet but definitely not neutral. Her gaze lingered for a bit too long. She was pleased, like she was definitely glad that you came. Then it was gone. She blinked, turning to the stylist to smile and say ‘thank you, unnie'. She instantly straightened her posture with that ease of an experienced idol - grace and camera-ready composure.

Wow…

You stood there, not knowing you were breathing a little too fast. Next to you, Yoon-Ah shifted her weight and crossed her arms. She tilted her head, unamused.

“You’re staring.”

“What?”

“I said…” one corner of her lips curved up, that irritated kind of expression. “I said you’re staring, sajang-nim.”

You opened your mouth to reply as heat started to creep up your face.

“I- I’ll just go say hi to the team first.” you mumbled, already stepping sideways and pretending to scan every equipment on the way. “Check how they’re doing with the lighting and… uh, all that.”

“Right, sajang-nim.” Yoon-Ah murmured, following you just a step behind. “All that.”

You made your way across the set, nodding at a couple of the lighting staff as you passed. “Everybody doing okay? Looks good.” you said, voice slightly higher than usual. No one seemed to notice - except for your secretary. The head stylist bowed quickly and smiled. “Oh, sajang-nim. Thanks for coming today.”

You politely bowed back and smiled. “Always. You guys are killing it.” you tried not to glance back over your shoulder, tried not to think about Yoon-Ah’s tone or Karina’s eyes a few moments ago.

“Lighting’s still adjusting but we’re almost there.” said the photographer as he stepped aside from his camera.

“Everything’s okay? Anything you guys want to ask for? I’m always eager to help.”

The photographer grinned. “Actually… we were thinking the lighting’s hitting her a little too harshly. We might try switching one of the lights for something softer? It might be a little different from your plans, sajang-nim…”

You nodded. “Good catch. Let’s do that. We still have the softer lights in storage, right?”

One of the assistants spoke up. “Yes, sajang-nim. I’ll go grab it instantly.”

“Thank you.” you said, stepping aside to make room. “If it helps the shots, go for it. Don’t hold back on suggestions. You guys know the setup better than anyone.”

The team exchanged a few glances, nodding. You actually listened - whether it was a last minute adjustment or the way the hem of a piece of clothing caught the breeze wrong, you cared. Yoon-Ah knew this side of you too well.

“Oh… also.” you added. “I’ve arranged a dinner for the whole team after the shoot. Just a little something to celebrate this, No one’s leaving hungry tonight.”

There were a few murmurs, a couple of soft laughs and someone clapped.

“You really spoil us, sajang-nim.”

“You’re the best, sajang-nim.”

You smiled, modest as always. “Only fair. Thanks for the hard work, everyone.” Then, you finally turned and headed toward Karina.

She was sitting on a chair near the set now, hands on her knees, spacing out. Her gaze flicked up as you approached, her expression then turned softer, lighter. Like she was trying not to smile again.

“Hi, Karina-ssi.” you bowed politely, a little breathless as you gripped the bouquet tighter.

“Oh- hi, sajang-nim.” she smiled brightly, standing up quickly to bow back. “It’s really great to see you here today.”

She glanced down at the flowers in your hand, then back up at you, curious but polite enough not to mention it yet. Her tone stayed professional but there was that subtle lift in her tone when people were genuinely happy.

You extended the bouquet toward her with both hands. “You’ve been working so hard. I, uh… honestly still can’t believe our company landed a deal with an idol like you, Karina-ssi.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she accepted the flowers, clearly caught off guard. “Oh- thank you so much.” she looked down at the bouquet, cheeks dusted with light pink. “But… I think your clothing just makes me look good, sajang-nim. I really love your designs.”

You let out a soft laugh. “No, really. You have that AI beauty. Like so precise, so surreal. It’s… uh, unfair, honestly.”

Karina laughed quietly as she swayed side to side slightly. “You shouldn’t say things like that so casually, sajang-nim.”

You smiled. “I’m just saying the truth, Karina-ssi.”

The two of you drifted into easy conversation, the noise of the set quickly faded into the background.

“I’m actually a big fan of aespa.” you admitted, shyly. “Have been for a while.”

Karina lit up, eyebrows raising as she tilted her head playfully. “Really? Sajang-nim’s a MY?”

“Maybe a lowkey one. I’ve listened to ‘Thirsty’ an embarrassing amount of time.”

“Oh, good taste. What else?”

“‘Lucid Dream’ and ‘I’m Unhappy’ deserve more attention. ‘Up’ too… Karina-ssi” you hesitated just a bit. “Especially ‘Up’.”

Karina’s smile wavered as she was taken aback, moved. “That’s my solo.”

“I know.” you smiled back.

Her fingers curled tightly around the bouquet, the wrapping rustling. Her eyes darted sideways before slowly coming back to you - warmer. “I’m really glad you like that, sajang-nim.”

What started as casual pleasantries stretched out into 5 minutes of relaxed, uninterrupted talking - her asking what inspired your last collection, you asking what it felt like to perform in front of thousands. She laughed when you made dumb jokes, you smiled when she said the jacket you designed actually made her feel cooler than she actually was.

Then, Karina’s eyes flicked around the set. Something about her look changed. And her staff knew her well. Within seconds, they spread out naturally - pulling out their phones, striking up fake conversations. No one said a word. You were confused at first but looked back at Karina as she stepped closer, her voice dropping so low only you could hear. She gently tiptoed up, her perfume finally arriving at your nose.

“...Can I have your number, sajang-nim?”

What did you say?

You froze for a bit.

“Uh- I… I- personal or work, Karina-ssi?” you asked, trying to stay composed.

Karina giggled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Personal, sajang-nim. If you don’t mind.”

“Umm… sure, sure. Yeah. Of course,”

Karina then turned to her staff, subtly giving a nod then one of them immediately stepped forward to hand you her phone, screen already open to a new contact. You took it, typing in your number with slightly stiff fingers, still trying to process everything that had happened. When you handed back the phone to Karina, your fingers briefly brushed hers and she smiled - eyes meeting yours.

From a distance, a certain someone was watching.

Seol Yoon-Ah stood just far enough not to hear a word but close enough to see everything. The way Karina smiled up at you, the way you looked back - relaxed, flattered and warm. The way her staff handed you her phone. She didn’t move and just stood there, rooted to the floor. Her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles almost went white.

Yoon-Ah had never hated a woman this much in her entire life. Not one who hadn’t even done anything wrong. Karina hadn’t crossed any lines. She wasn’t being arrogant. She was sweet, polite, even shy. And still, Yoon-Ah felt something ugly bloom in her chest - hot, sour, aching. Her jaw locked as she exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled, trying to keep her face from cracking.

Why did it feel like she was being left behind?

She wondered if this was her fault for pulling you in just close enough to only push you away whenever she wanted to? For testing the boundaries of your patience, your attention, your loyalty, just to see if you’d stay. Were you trying to get back at her for what’d happened in the car? The thoughts sank like a stone in her stomach.

Whatever it was, she absolutely despised it.

You, obviously, had no idea what Yoon-Ah was thinking. You were still dazed, trying to process reality. Karina - the Karina - had just asked for your number. You could still hear her voice in your ear, soft and almost shy. ‘Personal, sajang-nim. If you don’t mind.’ You didn’t even notice Yoon-Ah watching or the shift in her expression. Because in your head, everything still felt like a dream.

Now, Yoon-Ah’d had enough. She tried to wait for the heat in her chest to settle, her nails dug crescent moons into her palm but her expressions stayed calm - just calm enough. With steady steps, she approached, heels clicking softly against the studio floor. Her voice came up clear, professional but still a bit tight underneath.

“Photos together for our social media, sajang-nim.”

You turned at the sound of her voice, startled. You were still smiling at something Karina’d said. Karina straightened too, her smile still lingering but a teeny bit more cautious now. Yoon-Ah didn’t even glance at Karina. Her eyes were only on you. And her smile?

Impeccable. Cold.

There was a distinct shift in the air - one only Yoon-Ah seemed to feel. Karina, ever graceful, stood a little too close to you during the photos, her arm brushing yours once or twice. She laughed softly as she posed with the bouquet you’d given her earlier. Every moment made Yoon-Ah’s inside burn even more with something ugly she refused to admit. Again, she wasn’t the type to hate other women, especially ones who hadn’t done anything wrong but today… she came close.

Karina eventually returned to her photoshoot, her gaze drifting toward you a few more times as her shoot went on. You and Yoon-Ah stayed for another 30 minutes, exchanging a few words with staff, pretending nothing had shifted. When it was time to leave, Yoon-Ah didn’t wait for you like she always did. She instantly turned and marched outside toward the car without a word, heels clicking furiously against the ground. You watched her from behind, already putting the pieces together in your head.

Are you jealous, secretary Seol?

She reached the car first and didn’t wait for you to open the door for her like usual. Nope, she wasn’t that patient now. Instead, she yanked the door open herself and climbed in, slamming it shut with enough force to make someone passing by flinched. You sighed quietly and walked to the car with a smile. You slipped into the driver’s seat, shutting the door with far less drama than she had. The engine hummed to life, but for a moment, you didn’t even touch the steering wheel. You then glanced at her.

“You okay, secretary Seol?”

Her arms were crossed, eyes fixed stubbornly out the window. Her silence said more than words could. You let the question hang there for a moment before stopping a small laugh that was threatening on your lips.

“You look cute when you’re jealous, secretary Seol.”

She didn’t even flinch. Not even a blink.

“I believe our schedule for the day is done, sajang-nim. Please drive me home.”

That made you smile wider, tilting your head just slightly so that you could appreciate her flawless side profile.

“Please take me home, sajang-nim. Thank you.” she repeated, this time with even more bite, her tone low and sharp.

“Yes, general Seol.” you chuckled under your breath as you began to drive out of the parking lot.

You called her ‘general Seol’ whenever her tone dropped low, or whenever she did something that people around the office usually said was too ‘unladylike’ for someone as pretty as her. You’d caught her sometimes sitting with her legs open, slouching in chairs, sneezing like an uncle… Things people whispered about behind her back.

You? You didn’t mind it at all. You found it cute. Too cute, honestly.

About ten minutes passed before she finally spoke again, squinting at the unfamiliar turns and intersections outside the window.

“Where are you driving me, sajang-nim?” her voice was still tense, arms folded tight, annoyance refusing to die down.

“Let’s go shopping, secretary Seol. It’s Friday, and I need something.” you said casually, keeping your eyes on the road.

“I don’t want to go.” Her tone sharpened, each word laced with clear irritation. “Drop me off. I’m not in the mood, sajang-nim.”

You hummed, unfazed and kept on driving.

“I’m serious.” she turned to glare at you. “This isn’t funny, sajang-nim. I don’t want t-”

“I didn’t ask.” you said simply with a stern tone. That made her jaw tighten. A moment of silence passed before she finally let out a sigh - annoyed, long, defeated.

“...Fine.” she muttered, clearly hating that you used your serious work tone. “But only if you take me home first, sajang-nim. I need to shower and change. I don’t want to go shopping looking like a rich guy’s mistress.”

You grinned, victory finally. “Anything for you, general Seol.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You leaned against the car door outside her apartment, one hand in your pocket, the other holding your phone but not really looking at it. You’d gone home and changed too after dropping Yoon-Ah off - a grey jacket, sleeves rolled up just slightly, clean watch on your wrist, black jeans. You looked like you kinda had a date to pick up.

Technically, you could call it a date?

Is it?

Yoon-Ah walked out a minute later, hair still freshly dried but still flowing effortlessly. Her face hasn’t softened one bit, still visibly annoyed - one arm swinging stiffly at her side, the other clutching her bag. Her leather boots clicked against the pavement as she made her way toward you in that perfectly coordinated outfit - a check wool mini skirt, a dark brown cashmere sweater with sleeves that were longer than her arms. Full Burberry, from head to toe. Working for a fashion company CEO had its perks, huh?

She looked like a walking Burberry ad.

An angry one.

Still beautiful.

You straightened up slowly, watching her approach. “Still mad, secretary Seol?”

“I’m only here because you promise to drop me off right after, sajang-nim.” she muttered, yanking open the car door without waiting for you - again. “And if you say anything about my outfit, I’m walking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” you said, lips twitching into a smirk as you slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

The car ride was quiet at first, filled only by the engine hum and the sound of her TWICE playlist playing through the speakers. She didn’t ask, didn’t explain - just tapped her nails against the side of the door to the soft rhythm of ‘Ice Cream’ with her eyes fixed out the window. You didn’t mind. You liked that she wasn’t pretending. You liked even more that she still got in the car anyway. When you parked in front of a store and killed the engine, she glanced up. Her brows drew together.

“This isn’t a shopping mall, sajang-nim.”

“Yeah, of course."

“Why are we at a gaming store?”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the door with a shrug. “I told you. I need something.”

She didn’t move. “I told you I wanted to save up and buy me my own stuff, sajang-nim.”

You didn’t answer, just shut the door and started walking toward the shop. She groaned behind you but eventually got out on her own, stomping after you in her boots. “Unbelievable.”

Inside, the store was nearly empty except for the beeping of machines and the glows of display screens. You moved with purpose, hands in your jacket’s pockets, pausing in front of the row of Nintendo Switch and Steam Deck models before glancing back at her. Yoon-Ah had her arms crossed and was still annoyed.

And stunning.

“I notice you’ve been looking at these for a while now, secretary Seol.” you said casually, nodding toward the shelf. “I'd thought you only played Minecraft on your work iPad. Didn’t know you were an avid gamer.”

“Why are we even here, sajang-nim?”

“I need something. Thought you might too. I’ll pay for you.”

“I told you I didn’t need you buying me anything when I can get it myse-”

“I pay you more than enough to buy these, secretary Seol. I know that's not the reason.” you cut in. “You've been staring at this stuff on your work screen for weeks.”

She scoffed. “You’ve been checking my tabs, sajang-nim?”

“You leave them open during meetings.” you smirked.

“I was just looking.”

Yoon-Ah then tried to cover the flicker of emotions in her eyes.

“You seem to notice everything except when Karina was intentionally sticking to your side when you guys were taking photos together, sajang-nim.”

Gotcha.

“So that’s what all this is about, huh?”

Her cheeks flushed immediately.

“No, this is about boundaries and… pr- professionalism and -”

“Gaming devices.” you shot back.

“I’m going home after this, sajang-nim.” she said flatly, looking away. “You promised.”

“I know.” you then reached to pick up the matte white Nintendo Switch box from the shelf, weighing it in your hands like you were about to buy it for yourself. You weren’t. You already had a Switch at home. Without a word, you turned and held it out to her.

“Sajang-nim…” she warned softly.

“Just hold it, secretary Seol.”

Her gaze flicked from your face to the box in your hand, hesitant. After a few seconds, she sighed and took it carefully, like it might break or disappear if she moved too fast. She turned it in her hands, inspecting the box like she hadn’t memorized its specs from her late night scrolling. Her thumbs brushed against the edges, expression softening as she flipped it to look at the back. Her lips parted slightly, a cute hum she didn’t mean to make came out.

You watched Yoon-Ah - the way her fingers moved, how her lashes dipped low as she read, the way her weight shifted unconsciously closer to you. Seol Yoon-Ah was beautiful like this. Not in just the way she looked, but also in the way she let herself want something for once. She finally looked up, trying to mask the flicker of want in her eyes.

“Why are you buying me this, sajang-nim?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“Think of it as your bonus, secretary Seol.” you said, casually. “You’ve been working hard lately.”

Yoon-Ah’s fingers curled a little tighter around the box. “We don’t usually get bonuses at a gaming store on a Friday afternoon, sajang-nim.”

“Must be your lucky day then.” you smirked.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile after. You turned away to browse casually, giving her space. A minute later, she was crouching in front of a lower shelf, brows furrowed as she scanned through rows of games titles. She ended up picking a few then moved over to the accessories wall. Her eyes lit up slightly when she saw the joystick covers shaped like cat paws. She reached for a set of black ones, then hesitated a bit before taking the pink ones too. You didn’t say anything and just watched her from the corner of your eyes as she drifted through the aisle, quiet, focused. She was completely unaware that she was glowing in your eyes. Then, she turned, items cradled in her arms, only to find you standing at the opposite display - holding not one, but two Steam Decks. She blinked.

“Sajang-nim. Why do you need two?”

You looked down at the boxes in your hands, then at her.

“One for me. One for you. Obviously.”

Her mouth dropped slightly. “You’re already paying for my Switch. I can’t let you do that.”

You ignored her and headed straight to the cashier.

“Wait, sajang-nim!” Yoon-Ah followed in hurried steps, balancing her items. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this. I didn’t even ask for it.”

You set both Steam Decks on the counter and pulled out your card. “Exactly. That’s what makes it a gift. No… a bonus.”

“Sajang-nim-”

You raised a hand to silence her without even looking.

“You can thank me later, secretary Seol.”

The cashier clearly didn’t want to be in this situation as he awkwardly tried to scan as fast as he could. You signaled her to set the items down on the counter but she clearly didn’t want to do that.

“Put them down, secretary Seol. The poor guy’s sweating already.”

But she didn’t budge. Not yet.

“I’m going to transfer you some money back, sajang-nim.” she mumbled, still stubborn as ever. “Or something.”

“Mm.” you nodded, unaffected. “Sure. Try.”

Yoon-Ah shot you a final, burning glare before sighing in defeat. She stepped forward and set the box down a little harder than necessary, then placed the joystick covers and game cases beside it like she was surrendering the last teeny tiny part of her pride. The cashier quietly let out a breath of relief and quickly scanned the rest.

You were smiling. Yoon-Ah now stood beside you with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the total like she could make it drop lower. Her shoulders brushed yours - intentionally or not, you couldn’t tell. But she didn’t move away. You didn’t say it out loud but the way she set things down - all flustered, reluctant, mumbling under her breath - might’ve been the most adorable thing you’d seen all week.

You carried everything without letting Yoon-Ah lift a finger. Yoon-Ah walked a step behind you as you walked to put them in the trunk. She got in first, expecting the day to end and sat silently, arms folded with her bag resting on her lap. When you slipped into the driver seat, you didn’t start the route to her apartment. Instead, you glanced over.

“Let’s go for dinner, secretary Seol.”

She turned her head sharply. “But you said you’d take me home right after, saj-”

You leaned back against your seat casually.

“You dressed up in full Burberry. How could I take you to a gaming store and just drop you off like that without doing anything else?”

She had no come back now. Just a narrowed gaze and a soft, unwilling smile.

You took Yoon-Ah to a quiet, upscale fusion place. The mood was cozy and unhurried. You let her choose her own dishes. Somewhere between shared drinks and grilled ribeye bites, the tension finally started to melt. You didn’t even look at your phone once.

You talked about everything except work - childhood stories, movies, the ridiculous idea of just adopting and not marrying. Yoon-Ah rolled her eyes but the laughter in them lingered. By dessert, she had started to open up more, The candle light reflected in her eyes as she told you she hadn’t gone out to dinner like this in a long while - with someone who actually listened. You didn’t say much to that and just watched Yoon-Ah as she picked a piece of green vegetable and held it out for you across the table, feigning indifference. You leaned forward, letting her feed you the things she always hated, again.

"Feeding me on your own now, secretary Seol?" you raised your eyebrows while chewing. "You're learning fast."

"Don't speak while chewing food like that, sajang-nim."

For a moment, it felt like a date. Even if neither of you said it out loud.

The car rolled to a soft stop outside her apartment building. Neither of you said much. The night was calm but the warmth from dinner still lingered between you two. Yoon-Ah unbuckled her seatbelt and got out on her own. You then got out and circled to the back and popped the trunk open. You reached in and pulled out her bag - the one filled with her new gaming devices, the little indulgences she never would’ve bought for herself. She stood on the pavement, arms folded gently - unsure what to do. When you handed her the bag, she took it carefully.

“Thank you, sajang-nim…” she murmured, not quite looking at you,

“O- Of course.” you didn’t even know why you hesitated. Then came a pause.

Heavy? Awkward?

Yoon-Ah didn’t move. You didn’t walk back to the car. The both of you just stood there under the quiet glow of the streetlights, shadows stretching long behind you.

What now…?

Maybe it was the way Yoon-Ah was holding her bag so close. Maybe it was the way her hair moved in the cool night breeze. Or maybe it was the way she didn’t say goodbye yet.

Or maybe… It was just the right moment.

You leaned in - slow, careful, giving Yoon-Ah every chance to pull away. Your head tilted slightly, breath quiet, your eyes barely leaving hers. And just your lips were so close, close enough to taste her-

Almost there…

Yoon-Ah’s hand came up. Her fingers pressed lightly against your lips - gentle but firm. You stopped.

Her hand didn’t waver. But her voice was smaller than usual.

“Sajang-nim…”

Silence. She took a quick breath.

“I think I’m not qualified to be in a relationship with you... with people of your status.”

What?

It didn’t make sense to you. Not with how close you two’d become. Not after 3 years of being together almost everyday. Not after these past few months. Not after everything.

“Maybe we should just… stay professional, sajang-nim.”

Yoon-Ah stepped back, her expression unreadable - composed like always - but you swore you could see it. That something in her eyes. The way her jaw clenched. You stared at her, heart thudding like crazy.

“Is this the Karina thing this afternoon, Yoon-Ah?”

Her eyes widened just a fraction at your confession, at the sound of her name leaving your lips. But she didn’t say anything. You then took a step forward.

“I swear it was nothing. She ju- just asked for my num- number and I… I-”

That was when it hit her. Karina had asked for your number. You caught the way her lashes fluttered, the stiffening of her posture. Even under the dim light, you could tell she didn’t like that. At all.

“Oh…” the sound left her mouth. Just that.

Fuck.

Inside, Yoon-Ah was spiraling. Of all the things she expected - this wasn’t one of them.

“I didn’t agree to anything yet, Yoon-Ah ah. Please…” your voice sounded much more desperate now. But Yoon-Ah quickly switched back to her secretary mode and bowed.

“Good night, sajang-nim.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away without looking back once - leaving you frozen on the pavement. After the dinner. After months of teasing, lingering glances, late night conversations in the office, driving her home… Even after her first kiss on your cheek this morning…

You’d been dreaming of a future that felt close enough to touch. It was all gone now. You blinked once then exhaled, baffled.

What’s wrong with secretary Seol?

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

like that? did i surprise u? i felt like i did sullyoon dirty... but the ending feels fresh lol, at least for me since i always write happy ending.

#kpop male reader #sullyoon fluff #sullyoon x male reader #sullyoon x reader #kpop fluff #female idol x reader #male reader #aespa x male reader #karina x reader #karina x male reader #kpop idol x reader #Spotify

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dailyralsei · 2 days ago

Note

Why is ralsei your favorite deltarune character?

okay so when i started this account 3 years ago ralsei was not my absolute favorite character, he was just really neat to me. i didn't think he was evil, but it was hard to deeply connect with him because we didn't have a lot of characterization for him outside of "sweet and nice little guy that is just figuring out how to make friends and doesn't really know who he is yet, cheerful and naive. self worth issues only slightly peeking through". he was just nice and a cute character to draw! my favorite character before this account was actually spamton and i only started this account because when i redrew a really old ralsei fanart it got a lot of attention. imagine. alternate universe daily spamton. also tangent burgerpants was my favorite ut character so ALTERNATE alternate universe daily burger pants....

and then came chapters 3 and 4.. and it's as if toby fox looked me dead in the eyes and said "you dedicated so much time and love into drawing this character. now this character is dedicated to you" and he is. LITERALLY me. and that's not a good thing ralsei needs a self love arc please 😭😭😭😭😭 but yeah i relate to him so hard it's scary...

(yap session about ralsei as a character under the cut, deltarune ch3-4 spoilers)

- trans coded (ralsei is just so gender it's unclear which gender. the gender is so gender it's agender. gender stack overflow)

- self worth issues. i have one job! and that's all i am good for. if i can't be useful, then i'll either get cast aside again or hurt the people i care about. and i'd rather put them first. i don't need breaks except to sleep or eat! (ralsei probably didn't eat anything unless told to before chapter 4) maybe play a few games with my friends if i have time but that's like only for a few hours every week. the week before deltarune dropped i worked twice as much as i needed to so i could dedicate a week to playing the game without worrying about money

- perfectionist! things have to be in order and good or else everything will go wrong, everything has to go according to the plan i have, or else the big bad thing i'm trying to prevent will happen and it'll be my fault

- insecurities! if someone else is as good as i am at the thing i am the best for, then i will get replaced. i won't be important anymore. i'll be thrown away again and i think this even though none of my current friends or peers treat me this way because i'm scared of it happening again

- pretending things are fine and hiding my problems to not worry my friends, because i just don't know how else to deal with my problems! and then one more bad thing happens and everything comes crashing down and i explode

- not feeling like i deserve to give myself the good things i do for people i like because i'm used to not having anything or simply just not feeling like i deserve good things because i'm content with what i have (often the bare minimum) and then susie knocking some sense into me

- being dependent on the opinions and commands of others, but slowly learning to form my own opinions

- people pleaser. how do you think i kept up this account for so long without any new chapters

- will learn skills and hobbies for the happiness and wellbeing of others but never doing those hobbies for yourself (95% of my art is commission work that i use to pay for my partner's living expenses and helping my mom with bills, 4.9% is ralsei, 0.1% is personal art that isn't ralsei, but my ralsei art has become more personal due to the new lore. this account used to feel like an obligation a few months before the new chapters ngl so i am so glad the new chapters fed me good)

- having really good friends that teach me how to be a good friend and to love myself better. my partner is my susie (ralsusie is queerplatonic in my heart but it's insane how much like susie my romantic partner is, i mean me and my partner would be best friends for life if we weren't romantically involved)

#deltarune #ralsei #daily ralsei ask answers

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ddreamhhollows · 1 day ago

Text

⋮ ⌗ ┆ SOULMATED SO HARD ,, michael kaiser

⸻ 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠. 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𖹭.ᐟ michael kaiser xx gn﹗reader 𖹭.ᐟ soulmates au,, multiverse realism,, fate,, longing,, reincarnation hints,, romantic tension,, soft kaiser!! 𖹭.ᐟ word count :: 2,147 𖹭.ᐟ insp :: “soulmated so hard we’re ... in every universe” ౨ৎ 【bllk masterlist】

1 ⸻ 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 : teenage neighbor au 𖹭.ᐟ neighbors to something,, reader is a pianist,, “you’re not like the rest” trope,, kaiser falls first but won’t admit it

michael kaiser didn’t believe in fate. or love. or neighbors.

especially not ones who moved in over winter break and insisted on playing piano at 2 a.m. like they were in some kind of sad indie movie.

he hated it. every time his head hit the pillow, there it was again — soft, slow notes echoing through thin apartment walls. like a lullaby written by someone who couldn’t sleep either.

he knocked on the wall the first night. no response. he knocked again the next. still nothing.

by the fourth night, he stopped knocking. by the fifth, he left his window cracked open so he could hear it better.

he hated that more.

୨୧

he met you in the hallway by accident.

hair messy. hoodie too big. headphones around your neck. he almost didn’t recognize you until you said something, and then it clicked. that was the voice he’d heard humming along with the piano last night. that was you.

you gave him a polite smile. “sorry if i’ve been too loud.”

“you have,” he said, not thinking.

you blinked. “oh.”

he looked at you. the way you shifted your weight. the way you didn’t look away. the way your fingers tapped your leg like you were always keeping time.

“…but it’s fine,” he muttered, finally. “just don’t play anything shitty.”

you grinned. “so you’ve been listening.”

he rolled his eyes and walked away. he didn’t tell you that he’d memorized every note.

୨୧

he started leaving his window open on purpose.

he never told you that either.

୨୧

you were different.

he hated how cliché that sounded, but it was true. you didn’t ask why he dyed his hair, and you didn’t look at him like he was something impossible to reach.

you just… existed. and somehow, you kept pulling him in.

you caught him outside one day, juggling a ball between his knees, and said, “you’re good.”

he shrugged. “i know.”

“cocky much?”

“confident.”

you tilted your head. “hm. you look lonelier than confident.”

and fuck, he’d never wanted to kiss someone out of spite so badly.

instead, he kicked the ball at a perfect angle, hit the trash can behind you, and smirked. “still lonely?”

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look impressed either. you just picked up the ball, tossed it back, and said, “only lonely people need to show off.”

he fell a little in love with you then. just a bit.

୨୧

you asked if he wanted to come over once. he said no.

you shrugged and said, “door’s open anyway.”

he came over two hours later.

you didn’t mention it. just slid over on the piano bench and said, “wanna learn?”

he didn’t. but he said yes.

you placed his fingers on the keys. slow. gentle. patient. he tried to scoff, but his heart was loud in his ears. his pinky brushed yours and he forgot the note you were on.

“focus,” you teased.

he wanted to throw the whole piano out the window. but you were here for him, and him only. and he kinda liked that.

2 ⸻ 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 : strangers on a train au 𖹭.ᐟ strangers to something,, instant connection,, kaiser is annoying and knows it,, soft kaiser

he gets on at berlin süd. 7:42 a.m. second car. same time every tuesday.

you’re already there, always in the window seat. a book in your lap. never reading it.

kaiser notices that first.

you stare out the window instead. eyes tracking trees and telephone wires like they’re saying something he can’t hear. like you’re waiting for the world to blink first.

he finds it interesting.

that’s the second thing he notices. and he hates that he notices anything at all.

୨୧

you talk first.

he’s adjusting his headphones, trying to untangle the cord, and you just, point.

“you’re gonna break the wire if you keep yanking it like that.”

he blinks. “what?”

“here,” you say, reaching over. your fingers brush his.

for half a second, something cold and electric zaps up his spine. he ignores it. you untangle the cord, quick and efficient, and hand it back like you didn’t just touch him. like his heart didn’t lurch at your skin on his.

“you’re welcome,” you add, turning back to the window.

he stares.

“…i didn’t say thank you,” he mutters.

you don’t even look at him. “arrogant shit.”

୨୧

he sits across from you the next week. you don’t acknowledge him.

he tries not to feel weird about it. (spoiler : it doesn’t work.)

୨୧

“you always read the same page,” he says.

you raise an eyebrow. “what?”

“that book.” he points. “it’s always open to page 17.”

you glance down, lips twitching. you blush slightly in embarrassment. “…maybe it’s a good page.”

“maybe you’re a liar.”

you huff a laugh. “and you're a bastard.”

“not true.”

“why?”

“because i'm not.”

you don’t answer. just stare at him for a second, long enough to make him feel seen in a way he isn’t used to.

“i think you are, but it's not necessarily a bad thing."

he’s quiet the rest of the ride.

୨୧

you start sitting across from him by choice.

sometimes you talk. sometimes you don’t.

but kaiser gets used to the silence between you. not heavy. not awkward. just full. like something waiting to happen.

he wants to reach out. press a thumb against the side of your knee. brush your hand again. pull the book from your lap and ask what’s on page 17 that keeps you coming back.

but he doesn’t.

because he doesn’t do this.

and yet—

“what do you do?” he asks one morning.

you blink. “for work?”

“no. for fun.”

you hum. “i write things i don’t finish.”

“like what?”

“everything. stories, playlists, letters, etc...”

he wants to ask who the letters are for. he doesn’t.

“you?” you ask.

“i play football.”

you nod, like that makes sense. “you seem like someone who’s always running. like a dog.”

he stiffens, then smirk. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it’s not a bad thing.”

he looks out the window. your reflection beside his. both slightly warped. both realer than they should be.

“…you’d hate me in real life,” he says eventually.

you tilt your head. “this isn’t real life?”

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t know how.

୨୧

you stop showing up after three weeks.

kaiser checks the window seat every time. waits until 7:43. then 7:44.

nothing.

he tells himself it doesn’t matter.

(he thinks about you every time his headphones tangle. every time he sees someone reading but not really reading. every time he feels too loud for the world.)

two weeks later, you return.

you’re late. breathless. hair wind-tossed. eyes soft.

“sorry,” you say, sliding into the seat across from him.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares.

“what?” you ask, sheepish.

he shakes his head. “you missed the best page.”

you smile. “you remember the number?”

“you think i forget things that annoy me?”

“i think you’re softer than you pretend to be.”

his throat tightens.

“what happened?” he asks, voice quieter than he meant.

“i broke up,” you say. like it explains everything. maybe it does.

and he doesn’t ask more.

he just sits with you. listens to the hum of the train. feels your knee brush his under the table.

the silence isn’t quiet anymore. it’s loud in his chest. rushing in his ears.

he wants to ask you to stay. he doesn’t.

instead, he offers you one of his earbuds. wordless. smooth. you take it.

"say..." you tentatively ask, "are you free tonight?"

"for you, always."

and the train keeps moving.

3 ⸻ 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 : canon compliant au 𖹭.ᐟ established relationship,, slice of life in elite football hell,, domestic undertones,, “no one knows about us” vibe,, kaiser lets his walls down,, so soft it hurts

everyone knows michael kaiser.

his name trends weekly. his face is always perfect. his hair falls like it was sculpted by some annoyingly artistic god. he scores like he breathes — like it's the only thing he's ever been meant to do.

and you?

you bring him his lunch in tupperware and make fun of his tattoos.

୨୧

you meet after a match. he’s yelling at a manager, and his voice is sharp. he's pissed about a schedule change or a missed sponsor window or the fact that someone tried to give him a jersey with the wrong shade of blue.

you’re there by accident. just passing through. clipboard in hand. trying to look busy.

he spots you mid-rant, mid-breath, mid-anger, and pauses.

eyes narrow.

“who are you?”

you blink. “you don't know everyone who works here?”

he scoffs. “i try not to.”

you shrug. “then i guess it doesn’t matter.”

୨୧

he finds you again three days later.

you’re sitting behind the bleachers during practice, headphones in, watching the clouds instead of the field.

“you ignored me the other day.”

you glance up. “i didn’t.”

“you did,” he insists, crouching in front of you like you’re his game now.

you sigh. “you were yelling at a grown man over a color swatch. figured you had enough going on.”

his grin sharpens. “so you were watching.”

you roll your eyes, 'how could i not."

he sits beside you.

just like that.

୨୧

it starts like that, just like that.

he’s everywhere all of a sudden.

shoulder brushing yours in the hall. long legs stretched across the bench beside you. stupid comments whispered as he walks past your desk.

(“you’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like a remperor.” “maybe because you’re not one.” “ouch.”)

he likes it. you. this.

the way you don’t flinch at the weight of him. the way you hold your own.

you see him, and he doesn’t have to perform for it.

୨୧

one night, he texts you at 2:13 a.m.

do you think i’m actually good or just marketable

you respond four minutes later.

i think you’re both and you hate that the world can’t tell the difference

he stares at the screen for a long time.

then puts his phone facedown.

୨୧

you become his favorite secret.

he doesn’t tell his team. doesn’t mention you in interviews. doesn’t tag you anywhere.

but when he scores, his eyes flick toward the stands, toward the one spot you always sit, half-hidden, hoodie up. and you always give him a thumb up.

when he wins, he doesn’t party. he shows up at your place instead with a bag of groceries and zero cooking skills.

when he loses, he finds your wrist under the covers and holds it like a lifeline.

“they don’t know i’m yours,” he murmurs once, breath warm on your skin.

“do you want them to?”

he’s quiet for a beat.

then: “no.”

and it’s not cruel. he just wants this for himself. just once. a part of his life that no one else gets to touch.

and you let him.

୨୧

then, a scandal breaks mid-season.

something dumb, an old tweet, a teammate’s off-hand comment, a rumor about a fight that didn’t happen. the press twists it into drama. the fans eat it up. the club issues a half-assed statement.

he skips practice the next day.

you find him on your fire escape, hoodie pulled up, face unreadable.

he doesn’t say anything when you slide the window open. just leans against the railing, eyes on the sky.

you sit beside him. hand inches from his. not touching yet.

“i trust you,” you say softly.

he doesn’t look at you.

but his fingers find yours.

intertwine.

hold tight.

୨୧

after a match in munich, he pulls you into a hallway no one uses. it’s raining. his hair is wet. his shoulders are trembling, not from cold, but from adrenaline.

“do you think this ends?” he asks.

you blink. “what?”

“us. this. me being able to have you like this.”

you hesitate. “only if you want it to.”

he steps closer.

“i don’t,” he says. “not ever.”

you kiss him.

he kisses back like he’s falling, hard, fast, with all the force of a man who has only ever moved forward.

when he pulls away, your name is a whisper at the corner of his mouth.

like a prayer he’s finally learning how to say.

୨୧

he wins another match.

breaks another record.

the stadium erupts.

and this time, this time, when he looks up, he points at the stands. just once. just for you.

the cameras catch it. social media explodes. no one knows what it means.

but you do.

because when he finds you later, still breathless and still glowing, but he doesn’t say anything.

he just presses his forehead to yours and laughs, soft and stupid and so full of something that doesn’t need to be named.

and you get it. you get him.

every version of him.

in every universe.

fluff!

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oddballwriter · 9 hours ago

Note

Heard we were looking for more Amir? Less of a request more of a suggestion?

Taking post realization Amir to a carnival and having an absolutely amazing time until you get the bright idea to take him into a hall of mirrors, and he gets SUPER frustrated that none of these mirrors seem to be doing their job reflecting your visage properly. Doesn't matter if you explain that this is the purpose of the hall of mirrors he was looking forward to indulging himself on your reflections :((

He's going to need some kisses to make up for this absolutely horrible experience.

Not-so-Fun House of Mirrors

Realized!Amir x Reader

Summary: On a very fun and wholesome date at the local carnival with your boyfriend Amir you decide that it would be a funny idea to take him into the House of Mirrors to see his reaction to the hall of mirrors. Maybe not your brightest idea...

Warnings: Gender neutral reader (I sort of do this by default unless specifically told to write a certain one in mind in a request), IE. the reader's gender, pronouns, and any possible anatomy is never specified, said, or mentioned. Slight mention of body horror and implications of it. Nothing graphic or really anything, it's just a passing comment. Otherwise, nothing that I can think of. But be sure to tell me if there is something.

Author’s Snip: This was actually really cute to write.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request. Requests are closed at the moment though, please sit tight!

Word Count: 1.2K

Introducing Amir to the world outside of the house and “finding all the beauty in it”, as he so confidently puts it, was great. You two did a lot of things together along this journey. And in typical Amir fashion, he was able to say a myriad of great things about everything and everyone he saw. Matter of fact, he was actually having a very good time at the seasonal carnival that comes to the city.

You could tell that he was enjoying all the sights and decor of the place. Though, you had a hunch that he was mostly looking at and enjoying the sight of you among all the lights and scenery. But you’re honestly not surprised at all by that since you were with Amir after all.

You weren’t too sure how the idea of showing Amir the hall of mirrors came into your head or why you mainly thought that it would be a good idea. But you were able to lure him towards the attraction with relative ease considering there was no line and you could just walk right in. Amir did catch on that you were leading him somewhere specifically, but when he asked you just said that you wanted to show him something fun and he simply trusted your word and went along.

The hall started off very simple. The first few mirrors were just everyday ones just like Amir used to be. They just reflected the normal visage of you and Amir as you looked into them. Amir, of course, started getting romantic with you, getting up close and holding you close to his chest, pausing your already slow walking pace, so that you and him can look at yourselves more properly. Granted he was mostly just looking at you.

He spoke softly about how beautiful you looked to him.

“You look radiant in this light, Eshgham.” he purrs gently in your ear as he leans his head on your shoulder, admiring you from top to bottom. You would argue that the lighting is decent in here but then again you know that you don’t have the poetic eyes of Amir, and trying to deny anything would only result in him continuing on. And you rather not be caught heavily canoodling in the House of Mirrors by other carnival goers or the underpaid teenage staff. Though you’re sure Amir would be happy to. That can be saved for the ferris wheel though. But right now, you just wanted to see Amir’s reaction to the things to come down the hall. With a sly smile you say “There’s more where that comes from.” as you try to lure Amir further down the way.

You’re able to notice much faster than he does that the mirrors are slowly beginning to warp as you make your way down. It’s nothing too big at first. Just a very small blurb that gets bigger and more distorted as you go. You can actually feel Amir’s body language slowly changing while he holds you as you tread down. Till eventually his arms stop being tenderly wrapped around you and let you go.

By then you’ve reached the part of the hall where the mirrors are just borderline ridiculous with the reflections they hold. There’s one that makes you long and slender. Another that makes you cartoonishly short and stout. And one that gives you an outrageous hour glass shape that makes you look like those poorly edited “skinny legend” meme images of celebrities that you and Mac used to laugh at whenever you slack off on your work.

You have a good laugh as you look at all the mirrors and what silly images they provide. Even doing a little spin and poses to see how they bend and warp your body some more. It’s not until you realize that Amir is lacking behind, occasionally hearing the sound of him grumbling when he catches up.

“A disgrace. Such an awful disgrace to the sacred meaning and purpose that they were given.” he says under his breath. He both sounds and looks furious. Like someone’s just cussed him out and spat on his entire bloodline. “What kind of work is this? What insult! What shame! What-” he escalates further, getting more mad as he speaks before you stop him from starting to actually begin shouting.

Okay so maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring your loving boyfriend who used to be a mirror into a place where the mirrors do the opposite of what he says a mirror’s purpose is.

You try your best to console him and get him to calm down.

“It’s okay, Amir. They’re supposed to make you look funny and reflect incorrectly. That’s the joke.” you explain to him. He doesn’t seem to relaxed after this explanation though.

“Purposely made to be wrong for the sake of comedy? A joke? Corrupting your beautiful form is a punchline to them?” Amir says.

“Amir, no,” you can’t help but laugh. “No. No. They don’t think it’s funny,” you say as you gesture to the mirrors. “People think it’s funny to see themselves look weird in the reflections of them so they get made to do that for things like this.” you clarify.

Amir stews on this idea like it’s a completely new and alien concept. Now that you think about it, it just might be to him since he himself used to be a mirror. Does this mean that fun house mirrors are like… body horror to him? What are fun house mirror Amir’s like? What do they look like? Do you want to know?

You’re snapped out of your mirror-based existential crisis by Amir speaking.

“Created just to defy their one purpose…” is all he says, sounding a bit… sad. For who? You aren’t too sure. Maybe for the mirrors in here and the Amirs that reside in them who can’t see anything but in the warped and distorted way that they were intentionally made to.

"Lets not," you say as you grab his hand and gently tug him to get him to start walking again, "Lets not think about it too much. Yeah?" you conclude.

"We're almost out of this area anyways. The next half is a maze of mirrors, I think. Regular ones. You can stare at me through them while we try and find our way out." you suggest to him, seeing him visibly perk up at the idea. "Though," you say with a laugh, "We might be trapped in there for a bit if you take your time looking at me, and we'll have to wait forever in line for the ferris wheel. Everyone always wants to ride it when the sun is setting or the stars are out. And I had... plans, for that.".

As if finally catching the hint, Amir switches the lead from you to him as he starts walking at an eager pace towards the exit way of this hall. "Well then, let us not waste anymore time here in this joke of a room and leave." he says with a bright smile on his face as he's now basically dragging you along.

You laugh to yourself in amusement.

#date everything amir #date everything amir x reader #date everything #date everything dating sim #date everything x reader #realized!amir #de amir

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shoe-the-dude · 1 day ago

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i know we like to make fun of the GA but i kinda feel bad for them. i go on st reddit and tiktok to kinda ragebait myself, and the amount of things i hear and see is diabolical. i refuse to believe that this large amount of people have such a small amount of media literacy.

this is just a few examples of what i saw:

justifying why killing off will is a good writing choice

saying that el is much happier in her relationship than she is when she's independent

romantic stobin 😭

straight-up shit talking bylers

defending billy's actions

these are just things i thought about from the top of my head btw. i want to remind any of the GA that might be seeing this, stranger things is a show about freaks, weirdos, and outcasts, made for freaks, weirdos, and outcasts, made by freaks, weirdos, and outcasts. it isn't riverdale 💀 the writing and intention is much more detailed. with this knowledge, you have to go into the show looking at the fine print and taking the characters and their struggles realistically. let me give you a few examples of some questions you can ask yourself:

is steve just a gigachad, or is he also a metaphor for change and how everyone, even the popular crowd, are more than just their stereotypes?

is nancy just a girlboss, or is she a representation of young women trying to assert themselves in the world and become equal to their male counterparts?

is johnathan just a weirdo with no social skills, or is he a kid that was forced to grow up much too soon and wasn't given the time to make friends because he had to take care of his family?

is dustin just a kid with a medical condition, or is an example of how regardless of the struggles they face, people with medical conditions can be successful in both their personal and professional lives?

is lucas just a black kid, or is he someone that struggles with normalcy in a small, rural town, where he is among the few that are not white?

is max just a skater girl, or is she an allegory for the different characteristics and facets of women and how harmful stereotypes against women are?

is murry just a reporter, or is he what the directors want their audience to be: an analytical and outside-the-box thinker

is robin just a lesbian, or does she showcase the struggles of queer individuals in the U.S. during the 80s, arguably one of the most horrible times to be queer?

is hopper just a cop, or does he give hope to people that feel like they've lost all meaning in life that they can find happiness again and that they can find a family again?

is joyce just a mom, or is she also reckless and makes mistakes and goes through human experiences like all of us but puts her trauma aside to protect her loved ones

is mike just el's boyfriend, or does he struggle with his own trauma and his commitment to friends, and his want to protect his loved ones even though he feels he isn't enough (don't get me started on him being one of the best coming of age and acceptance stories i've ever seen)

is will just a kid that got taken into the upside down, or is he a character that survived everything thrown at him and then some because even though he has gone through so many horrible things and presents himself as shy and polite, he is strong

is el just a girl with powers, or is she a kid that has been locked away for her entire life, that wants to find her own independence and happiness in ways that she was never allowed to or able to do before

these characters are deep. these characters are multifaceted. these characters are not just characters but are metaphors. they are people. they are the people you see at school, in restaurants, strangers you have never even met. they aren't fanservice, they are people.

as the great murray bauman once said:

the GA doesn't look behind the curtain

#byler #byler nation #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #johnathan byers #will byers #mike wheeler #eleven hopper #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #joyce byers #jim hopper #robin buckley #general audiences

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ae-neon · 3 days ago

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maybe unpopular opinion ramble

on the 'clashing' that can and often does occur between sjm (and likely other's since the nachos keep selling) couples

coming at this from a standpoint of 1) not demanding moral perfection from the characters and 2) allowing things in the given context that absolutely would not fly irl

I don't count what happens between the characters before they begin their romantic or sexual arcs as part of their relationship

lemme explain

im reading through tog (yes still, it's for a friend) and one thing i mentioned to said friend was that of the three romantic interests so far (Dorian, Chaol and now Rowan) i disliked Rowan the least because he was the most character consistent

now look, obv in a competition for the healthiest relationship we'd eliminate Mr. Punched-Her-in-the-fucking-Face first

But Rowan is the only one who, so far, has been who sjm introduced him as.

One of my biggest issues with the others but Chaol especially was that the relationship required so much of Chaol to bend away from who he's supposed to be and only worked because we had at least a book to build up to that. But he's supposed to be the Captain of the Guard! The trial training and then the romance seemed to sap at the gravity of that, a lot

Rowan punching Celaena in the face wasn't done in his role as her future boyfriend. He (an angry, grief filled soldier) punched her (a stranger that Maeve intentionally withheld information on and who he viewed as a coward) because she flung a genocidal statement about his people at him. I won't go into future actions because I don't have the context yet (pray for me)

but this...understanding...I have doesnt apply to someone like Rhysand, for example, because 1) his actions don't really make sense for who he's supposed to be and 2) sjm has retroactively explained he always knew Feyre was his mate!!

Had she not, I could have viewed his actions utm - as dumb as they were - as solely part of his character, his grey morality, and outside of their romance, in the same way I do Tamlin bursting through Feyre's door: neutral within the context. But once Tamlin takes her, he knows he's supposed to court her to begin breaking the spell so everything from there onwards can be judged in the context of their romantic journey

(as a nessian despiser, okay, don't get it twisted, free my girl) I don't care that Cassian, when they first met, was riling Nesta up because of Nessian, I care because he has come, with his HLs, to ask for help that will likely save lives and him getting at Nesta instead of shutting his stupid mouth could jeopardize that

but as a character, I don't think Cassian is "wrong" for disliking Nesta. It's subjective and all he knows about her is what he's learnt from Feyre. He's allowed to think that she's cold snob

and sure, who tf is Cassian for judging a human woman for maybe being not the best older sibling based off one account when he has literally murdered bystanders, is definitely a little racist against Illyrians, presided over the army and held power for hundreds of years and done basically nothing to help other children, bastards and women

in fact, him being wrong and maybe learning more about Nesta and the situation, leading to reflection and change is the whole point of a dislike-to-like romance arc, right?

the problem is that sjm never does that. while simultaneously digging deeper and deeper into the dislike on both sides but only validating one. Cassian (in wings and embers) violates Nesta's space and triggers her memories of Tomas Mandray, in the aftermath of the war he fails to reign in his own emotions and actions to centre her ptsd and healing. SF IS SACRILIGEOUS AND I WILL NOT PARTAKE but i hear its just more shit.

it's everything after that makes him a stupid bastard deserving of death by (spins wheel) rat chewing through his abdomen

so, yea there's is obviously critical analysis to be made in regards to romantic health and dynamics including emotional and physical abuse

but just reading with my 'brain off' as the girlies say, I don't count what happens between the couples before any sexual or romantic tension as part of their romances

#i dont wanna tag the ships #i'm scared #but its still #anti sjm #on principle

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pruneunfair · 3 days ago

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Hae Soo is a boring character: Revised edition.

I looked back on my old Tears on a withered flower analysis about why I thought Hae Soo was dull female lead to follow a long time ago and yeesh! It was not one of my best analysis' probably even one of my worst. I got a lot of things wrong such as Tae Ha making a plush toy in Hae Soo's likeness was just apart of some weird promotional art and not canon in the story, and I focused too much on her body instead of actual reasons that made her boring.

I still find her boring, even more so then I did back when the original analysis was made, but just because I don't like her character doesn't mean I'm going to let a poorly made statement about her sit and act like it was correct.

So allow me to make up for that with this list with more reasons formed from by her personality instead of character design.

1: Her likability relies on how much the audience can pity her 80% of the time.

Hae Soo is definitely not UNLIKABLE, she is written to be a soft spoken woman who works hard, is generally kind but for most of the series up until recently, she is also submissive and doesn't know how to stand up for herself.

But that personality practically means nothing when we aren't really shown what makes Hae Soo a strong character. In almost every scene that she's in that isn't a romantic moment with Tae Ha, she is being bullied by someone else. Mincheol is abusing her, Hwa Jung is making fun of her for being old, her parents are implied to have been beating/neglecting her, she's getting bullied at school during flashbacks, and generally a good 80% of the scenes she's in that don't involve her romantic relationship is of her being mistreated and bullied so we can feel bad for her or so we can watch Tae Ha hurt them to defend his kitten.

Obviously, that alone isn't what makes Hae Soo boring, a lot of women irl unfortunately have to suffer like just for being above 30 but those real women also have other reasons that make them human, they have interesting hobbies, friends outside of their spouse, personality traits that help them survive the mental anguish of going to work just to be yelled at by their customer, boss, etc. What I'm trying to say is that they're still people because people are a lot more than their trauma.

Its hard to properly explain but the easiest way to describe is that while many horrible things will happen to a female lead, those things happen to tell an actual compelling story about her but in Hae Soo's case, its just there to be like "Awwww... Our baby Hae Soo is being bullied again 😢 Let's hope that Tae Ha will show those meanies what for!" And thats it... Hae Soo just gets verbally, physically, and even sexually harrassed and it never ends up being about HER, its about how Tae Ha will react to his baby girl getting hurt and what he will do to the perpetrators while Hae Soo basically gets the crumbs, said crumbs being pity points since her lack of agency as a compelling character is "made up" with her having the character of an abandoned quadruple amputee kitten left in the rain.

I will give this to Tears on a withered flower: The author, Gae Nim, might not be my favorite manhwa creator, but they aren't a terrible writer, they can definitely write some pretty good scenarios and ideas, such as realistic approaches to new relationships after getting away from an abusive spouse. This does prove that at least 20% of Hae Soo's trauma isn't just there for Tae Ha to come in and prove how much better of a boyfriend he is and how he can save with her with money and his dick alone, because what she went through, it kept Hae Soo away from rushing into a genuine relationship with Tae Ha for so long, the downside is that it also acts as a double edged sword in the end because Tae Ha once again takes most of the main character traits that Hae Soo should have and instead of letting Hae Soo recover from her trauma and letting her have a few months at the very least to have some time for her to take agency over her own life, it ends up being about how Tae Ha continues to do all these wonderful things for Hae Soo (Basically lovebombing her) so she can rush through the recover process and throw herself wholeheartedly to Tae Ha.

2: Despite her being a supposedly mature older woman with more life experience than others, she is consistently infantalized.

Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to make this about all her body, and that is why this is the only time at all during this analysis that I will bring up Hae Soos bodytype: it is the perfect symbolism of what kind of character she's trying to be: On one hand, she has the body type of a mature, grown woman but on the other hand, her face is drawn to somehow look youthful and in the iconic confused "👁 👄 👁 " expression most of the time.

Hae Soo is on the older side, being 33, and at many times, the narrative will prove that with her referring to Tae Ha as "Kid" multiple times, seeing him more like a broken child (Not in the pedophile way, its just common for older people to see people in their early 20s as naive and inexperienced.) And at some point, I think she even tells him that she'll scold him. Her continuing to work hard at her many jobs even after breaking it off with Mincheol once and for all proves that she knows that she still has a long way to go to reach the end of the tunnel.

That being said, she also has very little agency for her own life, and I'm not talking about scenarios that she couldn't easily escape like Mincheol. I'm talking about the little agency over basic decisions she is given by the narrative itself. She does make the active decision to break it off with Mincheol after catching him with Ari but after that, Tae Ha is the one making decisions for her, a few times without her even knowing it. He blocks Mincheol for her while she's asleep, sets up an arranged scene in their old apartment so he can rile Mincheol to by pretending that he just finished up having sex with Hae Soo, and generally is treated like a delicate little flower who needs to have her hand held everywhere. With justifications for these poor writing decisions being, once again, her sad backstories that basically infantalize trauma victims as scared wittle kittens that need to be given the utmost "UwU, cinnamon roll" treatment, instead of, you know, treating them like actual people instead of helpless infants?

This characterization just really bugs me because I don't know how I'm supposed to perceive her. If the narrative really wanted to intentionally portray her as a innocent cinnamon roll who needs protection then as much as I would have been annoyed, I would have at least had an easier time knowing how to perceive her. Tears on a withered flower wants to have its cake and eat it too, it wants the readers to see Hae Soo as this broken down woman who has become a husk of her former self and whose experiences have hardened her into the hard working serious woman we were introduced to, while also wanting her to act all quirky and innocent where all she needs is a few more chapters of lovebombing and boom! She's ready to love Tae Ha wholeheartedly before she realizes that she doesn't even know what kind of job he has.

Is she supposed to be a wary woman who needs time to adjust before trusting someone? Or is she just a shy bby who needs to be carried from place to place? Pick a lane and stick with it! The whiplash is killing me.

3: SO MUCH ATTENTION ENDS UP GOING TO TAE HA!

I don't like this guy the way the author wants me too. One problem I had with Tae Ha was that he also had little to say about him outside of Hae Soo and the author did actually fix that, he is now not so boring and even interesting to follow thanks to his family lore getting dropped.

The downside? Tae Ha is pretty much the new main character and Hae Soo might as well just be nothing more than the hot piece of ass who exists solely as an accomplishment for the main protagonist to achieve.

Sure, we still don't know EXACTLY why he started obessesing over some woman he hardly knew, but he at least now has more interesting traits that make him feel like a person written with actual care in mind. Hae Soo's entire life on the other hand is barley passing something as basic as the Bechdel test by the skin of its teeth.

You know how the first half of sleeping beauty was Aurora dreaming of nothing other than finding true love and the rest of the time she's on screen, shes asleep and she doesn't even have anymore lines while Philip does everything else? That's basically Tae Ha and Hae Soo except her version of dreaming about love before meeting the man doesn't even exist so there's even less for her to work with.

Not trying to talk shit about sleeping beauty, there is nothing wrong about girls who's goal in life is to find a loving spouse and if your goal in life is to find a husband you love and raise kids together, then I completely support you and I wish you for the absolute best, I'm just using examples of shallowness in characters because trad wives are still their own people. Sleeping beauty, as shallow as its characters are, is still not an absolutely terrible Disney princess movie and theres still a lot that can be found to enjoy about it if you aren't fond of how Aurora is characterized, such as the subplots with the fairies. Tears on a withered flower on the other hand completely REVOLVES around the romance between Hae Soo and Tae Ha, with all the subplots being extensions of that love story, and not just minor extensions, but major plot points that will contribute to Hae Soo and Tae Ha's love story. So if the main event is going to be all about a love story, then you're going to want to put in the extra effort for your female lead if your goal is to convince the audience to come back to see what happens in her story next.

4: Her, and almost every other female character in this story, personalities are tailored around the male characters.

First off: We see plenty of minor characters in this story, but every single minor character who is female is either talking to eachother about how handsome Tae Ha or Tae Hee are, or they are getting railed by another male character, or they exist to chase after the men in Hae Soo's life and therefore, are nasty "pick me" bitches that Tae Ha needs to put in their place.

Ari's character is like a exaggerated version of Hae Soo if she had a stable financial background. While to be fair, there is a chance that Ari will be utilized in the future, I don't have much hope on it anymore since she sort of just exists to be young and dumb so we can see Mincheol at his worst when he abuses her.

Hwa Jung is made to be jealous of Hae Soo for being beautiful and gentle enough to attract all the attention away from her and is the embodiment of that one trope where all flat cheated women are secretly jealous of the big tittied fmc who doesn't realize that she's gorgeous.

Heeji has only appeared around 3-4 times and all we know about her is that she has a crush on Tae Ha and that's it, there's literally nothing about her that we know of and all we can hope for is that she is not turned into a love rival.

And we already talked about how Hae Soo is characterized.

The only female character that has shown up more than once so far who isn't written as a jealous wench against Hae Soo is her barbecue co worker, (Neaul I think her name was?) But thats one character who, unlike characters like Ari and Hwa Jung, hasn't really been doing anything outside of cheering Hae Soo on a couple of times.

Right now, we were just recently introduced to what I am assuming is Tae Joo's wife but so many people are speculating that she's going to be the evil mother in law trope so cross your fingers.

Conclusion:

Hae Soo's character writing has honestly gotten even worse now. Its been over 60 chapters and the excuses are running out, I don't know how I'm supposed to see Hae Soo as this complex individual when her entire life has been centered around a man, whenever it be Mincheol or Tae Ha, it's always about a man.

#manhwa #webtoon #tears on a withered flower #na hae soo #beom tae ha #kang mincheol #yoon ari #hwa jeong

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y4-mama · 2 days ago

Note

Can you write one where the wife has a nightmare about a traumatic past and wakes up crying, and the husband soothes her with forehead kisses and whispered reassurances until she falls asleep again?

Roman reigns x Rihanna 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Touch Without Fear

Roman Reigns X Rihanna

Summary: After waking from a nightmare about her past trauma, Rihanna is comforted by her husband, Roman Reigns, who stays with her through her panic and helps her feel safe again.

Content: Implied past sexual assault, PTSD, nightmares, panic attack, crying, dissociation, emotional vulnerability, comfort, physical affection, romantic intimacy, gentle masculinity, protective partner, verbal reassurance, trauma recovery, safe space, healing.

W/C: 1.3k

A/N: I didn’t mean to take so long to get this out, apologies. If you want to request something here my rules and who i write for

The house was quiet.

Tucked into the hills above the city, their home stood wrapped in silence and shadow, bathed in the silver breath of moonlight that filtered gently through tall glass windows. Crickets chirped outside in a distant rhythm, and the occasional hush of wind stirred the trees, their leaves whispering secrets into the night.

Inside, the bedroom glowed faintly, lit only by the soft gleam of the moon and the warm dim of an amber salt lamp in the corner. The space was a perfect balance of strength and softness. Dark-toned walls, rich woods, plush rugs, silk drapery, and the unmistakable presence of both of them: her elegance and edge; his calm, commanding energy.

In the center of it all, they lay nestled in their bed.

Roman's arm was slung loosely over Rihanna's waist, his long, tattooed frame curved protectively around her. She lay tucked into him like a secret only he knew, her breath steady, one hand resting atop his chest.

From the outside, everything looked peaceful.

But peace, as always, was a fragile illusion.

It started the way it always did. With a sound she couldn't hear. A scent she couldn't forget. That visceral rush of dread crawling down her spine like ice water. The slow unraveling of safety. The slow spiraling of control slipping through her fingers like sand.

The dream dragged her back.

Back to that alley. Back to that night.

She didn’t see it coming. She never did. One minute she was in her bed, safe in his arms. The next she was trapped in a place she’d buried deep, beneath layers of strength and songs and stage lights. A place she’d only ever confessed to him, late at night, her voice trembling with old shame and a fury that still burned beneath her skin.

In the dream, it was cold.

She could hear footsteps. Shouting. The scrape of gravel. The sound of her own breath. Fast, shallow. Her body reacting before her mind could catch up. The way fear could reduce even the strongest woman to something primal. The way her voice disappeared into the dark, her pleas swallowed by uncaring stars.

She whimpered in her sleep, legs shifting under the blankets.

Roman stirred faintly, his brow furrowing. Even in sleep, his instincts were wired to her.

She turned, face twitching. Her body tensed, curled in on itself.

Then came the cries. Low at first, barely more than breathless pleas.

“No… don’t… I said no…”

Roman’s eyes opened.

Years of wrestling, of military training, of traveling the world had made him many things. Disciplined, patient, fierce. But nothing sharpened a man’s awareness like love. The kind of love that rewired his soul. The kind he felt for her.

His Rihanna.

His fire and his softness. His everything.

And she was in pain.

He sat up immediately, blinking sleep from his eyes. The shadows on the wall shifted as he moved, the soft rustle of sheets breaking the silence.

“Ri?” His voice was low, thick with sleep and worry. He reached for her.

She jerked violently, crying out now, louder.

“No, please - get off - don’t - stop - !”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Roman felt something inside him fracture.

His arms went around her instantly. Not to restrain. Not to shock her awake. But to gather. To anchor.

“Rihanna,” he whispered, one hand smoothing down her back. “It’s me. It’s Joe. You’re dreaming, baby. You’re safe.”

But she didn’t wake.

Not fully.

Her hands were fists, clutching the sheets. Her body trembled like a leaf in a storm, and tears leaked from her closed eyes. A soft, keening sound escaped her lips, something more animal than human. The sound of someone reliving hell.

Roman’s heart broke.

He didn’t shake her. He didn’t shout.

Instead, he pulled her into his lap, cradling her close against his chest, pressing his lips to her hairline, whispering her name like a prayer.

“Ri. Baby girl. Come back to me. I’ve got you.”

It took a minute. Then two. But slowly, her breath began to change. Less panic. More ragged sobs. Her eyes blinked open. Glassy, wet, unfocused.

“Joe?” she rasped.

“I’m here,” he said instantly, brushing her hair back from her face. “Right here.”

She looked at him like she couldn’t believe it. Like she was still halfway stuck in the dark place the nightmare dragged her to.

“I-I was there,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “It happened again. I couldn’t stop it. I felt it.”

Roman held her closer, folding her into his arms like a fortress.

“It wasn’t real,” he said gently. “Not this time. You’re here. With me.”

Her breath hitched, a sob escaping before she could bite it back. “I smelled the alley. I heard him. Felt him. Everything, just like it was happening all over again.”

Her body shook.

Roman closed his eyes for a moment, willing his rage to stay buried. Not at her. Never at her. But at the man, the monster, who had done this. At the past that still tried to reach for her with bloody hands.

He kissed her forehead. Softly. Slowly.

Then again.

And again.

Until her breathing slowed just slightly.

“You’re safe,” he murmured against her skin. “You’re not there anymore. That bastard can’t touch you. Not in this house. Not while I’m breathing.”

“I don’t want to be weak,” she whispered.

“You’re not.” His voice was fierce now. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. You’re not weak because it still hurts. You’re human. You lived through something that would’ve broken a lesser soul.”

She let out a slow, trembling breath.

“But I hate that it still follows me,” she said. “Even after all this time.”

Roman’s hands caressed her back in slow, steady motions.

“Baby… trauma doesn’t have an expiration date. It doesn’t care how famous you are. How strong you look. It comes when you’re vulnerable. It tries to convince you that you’re still broken.”

She turned her face into his chest.

“I hate feeling powerless.”

“You’re not,” he said, firmly now. “Look at me.”

She hesitated.

He cupped her face, lifting her eyes to meet his. “You survived. You’re living. Loving. Creating. You’re laughing again. You’re letting me in. That’s power.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. He kissed it away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again. “You don’t ever have to go through this alone.”

He rocked her gently, her limbs curled around his torso like a child clinging to a lifeline. He hummed a soft melody against her temple, low, soothing, until the shaking began to ease. His thumb traced gentle circles on her hip, his other hand stroking her spine.

“I feel like I’m broken glass sometimes,” she murmured. “Held together by tape.”

Roman kissed her brow again.

“You’re not broken. You’re battle-scarred. And still standing. That’s not fragile. That’s beautiful.”

Silence stretched between them for a while, broken only by the whisper of wind against the windows and her breath slowly beginning to steady.

He guided her back down onto the bed with him, never once letting her go. They lay on their sides, face to face, legs tangled, hearts pressed together like they were trying to beat in sync.

He cupped her cheek again, thumb brushing her skin.

“I wish I could take it all away,” he murmured.

She reached up and held his hand to her face.

“You already do,” she said. “Every time you stay.”

And he always did.

Roman stayed awake for hours after she drifted off again, watching her face, listening to her heartbeat, pressing kisses to her hairline when she stirred.

Because love wasn’t just about the bright days. The laughter. The moments they shared in public, the glitz, the glam.

It was about this.

The shadows. The storms. The places she was scared to go. The nights when the past tried to come back and steal her breath.

Roman stayed through all of it.

Because this was what love really was.

Not perfect.

But present.

And that made all the difference.

#roman reigns fluff #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns fan fiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns head cannon #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x fem reader #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x you

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joonam · 7 hours ago

Text

the one | myg

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader (f)

Genre: angst, heartbreak, regret, breakup, idol!au, missed chances, one-sided love.

Summary: Five years after the end of his 3 years relationship with you, Yoongi still lives with the what ifs and what could have beens. The 1 looks at how some heartbreaks never fully heal, some memories never fade, and how Yoongi is still learning to live without y/n, the girl he never stopped loving.

Word count: 3625

Warnings: regret, angst, sadness, emotional heartbreak. basically angst and angst and just more angst

a/n: this is my second one shot, after right where you left me. im also trying to write a more happy series instead of another sad one-shot. but writing this one took a lot, now my brain needs a break before i can start again. ANYWAY, enjoy!!

They say time heals everything. Yoongi thinks that’s fucking bullshit.

Because five years have passed since you walked out of his life and yet here he is, halfway through his third cup of coffee of the day, staring at an empty screen in his studio.

He doesn’t expect you to message. It’s been too fucking long. And Yoongi knows that you were never the type to reach back once you made up your mind to walk away. But some part of him still scrolls back through the old chat every week. Wondering back and forth if he should delete the chat history which he knows he would never do. It’s pathetic, actually. But Yoongi has made peace with the fact that this particular heartbreak gets to stay.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You and him were never the flashy type. There were no couple rings or accessories, none of those anniversaries with balloons and flower petals, and no instagram posts under cherry blossom trees. But the love was there and loud in a different way, in the late night takeout runs, the quiet yet loud support, the way you steal his hoodie, and the way you fall asleep to his songs still looping in your ears.

He used to write for you but never about you. He wanted to keep that part of his life with you untouched, hidden from cameras, and free from speculation of the public. Yet he knows that you eventually do come up in the songs he writes even without him meaning to.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Both of you started dating in 2013, not long after his debut. Yoongi was running on convenience store ramen, caffeine, and crippling anxiety that his group might not make it. Then you showed up with your soft spoken voice, stubborn in your own way, unimpressed by the possible glitter of his career. You didn’t care about him being in BTS. You cared if he has eaten or if he is sleeping well. You cared if he still remembers to be a human.

You showed up in the rain with tteokbokki and wrote him notes on post it notes like “sleep is also productive.” You never demanded space in his world, you simply exist there like you always belonged. And for the first time, something in Yoongi’s life felt calm like a steady light in chaos.

You never asked him to be romantic like what others on social media define what a couple should be like. You said his presence was enough and maybe that’s why he always wanted and tried to give you more and more and more. One night he tried to really cook a full meal with side dishes and soup. And he somehow burned the rice and undercooked the egg yet you still ate it. You teased him and said, “You’re a genius with music, not food. Let’s not get greedy. Stay in your lane, baby.” He laughed harder than he had in weeks and accidentally spilled his beer on the rug. You made him clean it up while holding your phone filming him like he was in some kind of cooking show gone wrong. He still has that video in a folder dedicated to you on his computer that he opens every now and then.

Your dates were convenience store runs in matching slippers at midnight. You always picked something sweet and he would get the opposite. Once, the cashier mistook you for siblings. You didn’t correct him, just held in your laughter until you were outside with your head against his shoulder.

You used to test how long he could go without saying “I love you.” Told Yoongi it’s more fun when he broke first and he always did say it first. Usually after you tripped over his oversized pants or rapped his part in a BTS song into your corn dog like it was a mic. “God, I love you so much, baby” he muttered under his breath and you smiled like you just won a trophy.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Most of the staff didn’t even know he was in a relationship and you liked it that way. “I don’t want to just be the girl Yoongi dates,” you once said, curled up next to him. “I want to be the reason you remember who Min Yoongi is, who you are.”

There were days when you didn’t talk much. You’d sprawl on the couch reading, while he worked on a song in his laptop. Sometimes you would sing off key to get his attention. When he finally gave in and asked why you were singing that way, you shrugged and said, “Because you never look up unless I break your brain a little.”

You loved the rain. One day, you stepped out from under the umbrella to tilt your head back and catch drops of rain on your tongue. “You’re gonna catch a cold,” he would say every time. And you responded with, “Not possible, I'm next to the hottest man on earth” He laughed before kissing you harder than he did on rainy sidewalks.

You fought over stupid things like who finished the last yogurt, whether he spent more time with his piano or with you. One time you threatened to write a diss track about how loud he snored. He dared you and the next morning he woke up to a Soundcloud link titled “Big Truck (feat. Yoongi’s Nose),” which Yoongi still listens to until this day, five years later.

Sometimes when the studio is too quiet and the nights too long, Yoongi lets himself pretend that you were still with him. In some other universe where timing was kinder to the both of you. In a universe where he left the meeting and held your hand tighter. Where you didn’t have to walk away just to be seen. He has no excuse but he knows it would’ve been better if you were the one.

Life would have been sweeter if he was the one for you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

We lasted five years. It wasn’t one big fight that ended the both of you. It was a thousand small cuts. Missed dinners. Cancelled trips. Yoongi choosing the studio again. And again. And again. At some point, he stopped noticing how often he was saying, “Can we do this next week?” You never threw it back at him, you just stopped waiting.

And the night you left, you didn’t cry. You just said,

I love you. But I don’t think you know what to do with it, Min Yoongi.

And you were right. It was October 2018. The tour had been relentless and Yoongi hasn’t come home in over two months. You just wrapped up a brutal week at work and you were supposed to meet him in his place, just for a weekend, just to breathe together for 48 hours. He told you he needed to cancel the plan, how something came up. A last minute meeting or a label dinner, you don’t even remember what it was now.

You sent him one last message that night:

I don’t want to resent you, so I’m leaving before I do.

And he didn’t respond. Not because he didn’t care, he just didn’t know what to say. He sat on the edge of the bed with his phone still in his hand and let you go. Like a fucking coward.

Like someone who somehow, in the worst timing possible, forgot that love isn’t something you earn once, it’s something you choose over and over again.

Min Yoongi the coward.

He didn’t choose you that night and he has been paying for it ever since. He didn’t chase after you. Not because he didn’t want to but because he felt time stop and every emotion collapsed on him, like the walls trained him too well to sit still quietly.

The next day, he went back to work like nothing happened.

Yoongi kept showing up to interviews, to rehearsals, to meetings because what else can he do? He built a life that does not allow for him to fall apart. He buried grief the only way he knows how, by making music. The world clapped for every new track he put out. And no one noticed the muse was gone, except him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It hit hardest in the smallest moments. When he comes home to silence instead of your laugh echoing from the bathroom. When your extra pair of chopsticks stay untouched in the drawer. When his phone buzzed at 11:32 PM and for a split second he let himself hope. But it was always someone else, not you.

He tells himself he did the right thing and how dreams demand sacrifice especially the one he was chasing. That timing was evil. But then he remembers the way you used to touch his back when he was half asleep on the couch like you were making sure he wasn’t drifting too far even in his dreams. And he wonders if a love like that comes more than once in a lifetime.

He knows now, it won’t.

It was the little things that pains him the most. You always hated socks with holes so you tossed out his old ones even if he protested and now he can’t bring himself to throw any away. He still has the hoodie you used to steal, the one you claimed didn’t smell like him anymore, but you kept wearing it anyway. He folded it neatly in the top drawer like some kind of sacred item he would never dare to touch.

Yoongi thinks it’s funny how a person can leave, but still be everywhere.

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The body doesn’t forget what the mind tries to repress. If anything, it shows in every breath. Yoongi dreams about you not often but always so vividly. And it was always the same dream; you're laughing before saying, “You’re late again.”

They say healing isn’t linear process. That some days, you’ll feel okay while other days, you’ll feel like it's day one all over again. Yoongi knows that better than most, it’s been five years.

But the truth is: if wishes actually come true? It would've been you. Because you are all Yoongi wishes for.

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Five years. People think it he would have been okay by now, but Yoongi still feels it. His apartment feels colder even with the heater on. The bed feels too big, sometimes, he finds himself turning the volume of his speakers up just to drown out the sound of missing you. He knows it’s ridiculous how long it's been, how little progress he has made. It turns out heartbreak doesn’t have an expiration date.

He didn’t try to replace you, he never even dreamt of it. But he kinda did try with the push of his friends. There were nights filled with faces he doesn’t remember and names he never asked for. Everyone said that’s what he needed, a rebound. But all they ever did was remind him of everything you were and everything they weren’t. None of them laughed at his dry sarcasm the way you did. None of them knew they he likes his coffee like you. None of them offered silence like it was comfort like you did.

His members noticed. Of course they did. Even Jungkook, who usually keeps his thoughts to himself, surprised him one night after dinner, “Hyung,” he said cautiously, “why don’t you just go after her?”

Yoongi didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know what scared him more: the idea that you moved on or the idea that you haven't and he wasted all this time doing nothing.

Your name never left his phone. Your texts stopped coming but he never blocked or deleted your contact. Every once in a while, he scrolls through your old chats, rereading the “good morning” messages, the blurry pictures of you holding snacks you bought for him but also for you. and the last thing you ever wrote him:

Take care of yourself, okay? It's the least you could do for me.

No matter how many years passed, Yoongi just seem to not be able to erase you and the ghost of you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It’s been five years since you left. Five years since you shut the door on a chapter that once feels like forever. He’s no longer the first name on your mind in the morning.

You don’t date. You don’t rush into anything or fill the space he left with someone else. You’ve learned that moving on doesn’t mean replacing and healing doesn’t always come with new love.

Some days, you think about him not with pain but with a sort of gratitude. For what you both had, what you learned in the relationship, and what you let go. Thinking about the missed dinners and cancelled trips don’t sting you anymore. They’re just part of your story like chapters in a book you once couldn’t put down but now able to read with peace.

You accepted that sometimes love isn’t enough and people grow in different directions. You don’t blame him for choosing the studio over you. You have always understood the sacrifices that came with his dream.

You fill your days with your own routines now. Found a workplace you love, friends who love you for you, and a cat that purrs next to you every night. You’ve stopped avoiding news of BTS and stopped skipping songs of theirs. When you pass places you once went together like the coffee shop, the restraurant, and the park bench, there’s no longer pain in your heart. Just a recognition to the past and a step forward. You might catch yourself singing a melody he wrote, but it doesn’t break you anymore. It reminds you of growth from who you were to who you are.

You rarely think about what might have been. You now know how live in the present. You already accepted how some love stories don’t end with forever. Some are chapters that teach you how to love yourself and that’s exactly what you have done.

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The restaurant was warm and lively. You and your friends decided to have one of those “we need to get out of the house” kind of nights.

The first floor had a cozy feel. Exposed brick walls, soft lighting from the lightbulbs, and the aroma of garlic and grilled meat filling the air. Your group had claimed a corner table near the window, and the conversation flowed easily with light jokes and shared stories. You smiled, grateful for this simple moment.

Across the room, your gaze flicked around until it landed near the entrance. Your eyes caught movement, seven men stepping inside. They were immediately recognisable, especially now that they are a global group. The way they carried themselves, confident but casual with subtle smiles exchanged among them and the others who noticed them.

Before you could process what was happening, a voice broke through the sound of the restaurant. “Yoongi hyung, isn’t that Y/N?” Jungkook’s words carried a little too loudly for you and a few others around to hear.

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat. You nodded slowly and your friends’ eyes followed your gaze to where BTS were standing, preparing to head upstairs. There was no sudden surge of emotion like awkwardness, instead, a calm settled over you, as if you were ready for this moment.

They acknowledged you briefly, subtle nods and soft smiles as they passed by your table on their way to the staircase leading to the rooftop.

You stood up, turned to your friends, your voice steady as you asked, “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

They gave you understanding looks, hurrying you off with smiles, and a few teasing remarks about running into an old flame.

The stairs creaked softly beneath your feet as you made your way up to the rooftop. The atmosphere up here was more private, the group gathered around a low table under strings of warm lights. The boys looked up as you approached them and you felt the weight of years missed in that moment when your eyes met Yoongi’s.

He looked older than you remembered, and tonight there was something more vulnerable in his gaze. You nodded to him softly, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between you. The air was thick with all that have been left unsaid over the years.

Yoongi’s hand tightened on the edge of the table, a subtle gesture betraying the pain under his calm exterior.

Your friends’ laughter echoed faintly from downstairs, a reminder of the world moving on, even as you stood here in front of him.

You spoke first, voice low and steady. “It’s good to see you.” He nodded slowly, “You too.”

The other boys shifted, sensing the thick air and offered you a warm smile before moving to another table nearby to let the two of you share this moment.

Yoongi studied you for a moment. There were new lines on your face, ones that came from living. You look beautiful as always. He didn’t know what he expected. maybe some signs that you were affected from the breakup? Maybe he hoped to see even a glimpse of the same pain in your eyes that he still carries in him even after five years.

“Five years,” he finally said, not as a question, but more like an observation. A statement of not believing that it really has been that long. You nodded. Yoongi’s lips twitched like he wanted to say an apology. But nothing came, so he reached for the glass in front of him, took a slow sip of water, and let the silence stretch just a little longer.

“You look well,” he said as he looked up, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” You leaned back slightly, “Neither did I,” you admitted, “But back then, I also didn’t think I was going to be able to hear your songs without feeling so much pain.” “And now?” He asked. You smiled softly looking at him, “Now I just hear someone I used to love.” Yoongi winced, but he nodded, “That’s fair.”

The silence between you two wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like it was supposed to be there just like two people sitting in the aftermath of a storm acknowledging the things its destroyed but choosing not to go through it again.

“I read our messages sometimes,” he said suddenly. “The old ones. You sent me so many pictures of snacks I never even liked.” You laughed, surprising even yourself. “You always pretended to like the snacks, though.” “I love you,” he replied, voice low, "that was why I pretended to like them.” You didn’t look away, “I know," pretending like you didn't hear the present tense in his statement.

“You ever think about” he trailed off then shook his head. “No, forget it.” You raised your eyes, “No, go on.” He looked straight at you, “You ever think about what it would’ve been like if I just left the meeting that night? If I came to you?”

You didn’t flinch, because you did think about it a million times and a million different ways, but you also know that clinging to the possibility of different decisions will never bring you peace. “I used to,” you said. “But I don’t anymore. I know now that even if you came home that night, it wouldn’t have fixed everything, the cracks were already there.”

Yoongi exhaled. “Yeah. I know.” You reached for the drink in front of you and took a sip, “But I also know we loved each other. That wasn’t an act.” “No,” he agreed quietly. “It never was.”

The boys glanced over occasionally, but didn’t dare to interfere. They understand for the both of them, it was about presence, about being here in the now. Just two people who used to belong to each other, facing the past to finally let it breathe.

Yoongi spoke again, “I think I’ll always carry you. Not in a sad way, just as part of me.” You nodded, “That’s all I ever want.” You stood up first, smoothing your shirt, “I should get back before my friends start guessing dramatic things.”

Yoongi gave you the smallest smile that screamed I'll miss you. As you turned to leave, he called your name once, softly. You turned back, “y/n, If we meet again,” he asked, “do you think we could try again?” You tilted your head. “Maybe,” you said. “But only if we both remembered to choose each other every single day.”

He nodded.

Then you walked away, the love of Yoongi's life walked away. Your footsteps light and your heart calm. You didn’t look back and Yoongi didn’t ask you to even though he did hope for you to look back. He watched you go, but for the first time in five years, he let you go not with grief nor regret, but with love.

still and always.

After you walked away from the rooftop, Yoongi remained in his seat even long after the boys returned to the table, their laughters and conversations filling the air like background noise. His mind was still focused to the sound of your voice, to the way you looked at him when you said, “Only if we both remembered to choose each other every single day.”

Yoongi sits in that moment and finally accepts the truth. You’re no longer his. And yet, he’s grateful for what you will always be to him. For a kind of love that never demanded more, yet gave him everything.

Maybe, in another life, you would’ve been the one. But in this one, Yoongi has to learn to be whole without you, the one for him.

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