#jay fluff

[amoressb]

──── YOU’RE MY HOME 박종성 P. JS ⭑.ᐟ

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ late from work, jay softly reminds you that he’ll always come home to you ｡｡ ᴄᴇᴏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ!ᴊᴀʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

FLUFF & wc. 1100 + / kisses, skinship, petnames ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

jay was tired, but not in the way most people meant when they said it.

his body had long since gotten used to the late hours, to the weight of tailored suits, to the taste of black coffee that never cooled fast enough. he was used to the boardroom lights, the flash of his watch catching on glass tables, the constant ringing of his phone and the never ending parade of decisions.

but tonight…tonight, he was tired in the kind of way that made him ache for you. not just to see you, but to be near you. to breathe you in. to feel your hands, warm and grounding, on the side of his face.

he’d been checking the clock all day, ever since your sleepy voice whispered, “just don’t stay too long this time…i miss you when you’re gone.”

and man—he carried those words with him. carried them through a twelve hour day full of deadlines, contract disputes, networking dinners, and the headache inducing smile he was forced to wear.

so the second he was released, he didn’t even think about going anywhere else. not the bar with his colleagues. not the office to finish that proposal. just home. to you. like you asked.

on the way, he stopped at the only flower shop still open and bought a bouquet of lilies, the big, full ones you loved. he chose the ones with the softest shade of pink laced into the edges of the petals. he held them carefully the entire ride back, cradling them like they were as fragile as how he felt inside.

the apartment was quiet when he opened the door, the light in the entryway casting a soft golden hue on the floor. he stepped in, shoes off, blazer unbuttoned with a tired sigh.

but before he could even call out your name, he saw the shape of you, small and curled, on the couch.

not in your shared bed. not wrapped in the covers like he’d imagined on the drive over. but there, asleep on the couch, one of his old sweaters swallowed around your frame, your face pressed into the armrest.

his heart clenched. you had waited for him. you always waited for him even when you said you wouldn’t. even when he told you not to.

and now you were fast asleep in the quiet glow of the tv screen, half covered in a throw blanket, your body curled tight like you’d just barely drifted off from trying to stay up.

he didn’t say anything at first. just placed the bouquet carefully on the coffee table and crouched beside you, eyes gentle as they took in the curve of your lashes, the rise and fall of your chest, the way one of your hands was still curled around the corner of a pillow.

then he reached forward, brushing your hair back softly, fingers running through the strands like he was soothing a dream from your skin.

“baby,” he whispered, low and warm like a secret. “you fell asleep out here?”

you stirred slowly, brows drawing together, lips parting in a barely there hum. but your eyes didn’t open yet. not until he gently tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and pressed his palm against your cheek.

your lashes fluttered. you looked up at him, still half asleep, voice quiet and cracked. “jay…?”

he smiled, softer than anything he’d worn all day. “yeah it’s me, my love. i’m home.”

your gaze barely focused, but your lips curved anyway and he leaned down to kiss your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. lingering, tender, slow.

“why’re you on the couch?” he murmured again, brushing his thumb across your cheek. you reached for him, hand finding the lapel of his blazer. “i was waiting for you, but i must’ve fallen asleep…”

he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “you’re gonna ruin my heart like this,” he whispered with a weak laugh, eyes shut. you smiled sleepily, “you brought flowers…”

he tilted his head just enough to press another kiss to your hairline. “of course. lilies. you said the house feels calm when they’re here and i want everything calm when i get back to you.”

you were slipping again, warmth seeping into your bones from his voice, from his hands, from the way he cradled your jaw like it was made of glass. but he didn’t let you fall too far.

instead, he slid one arm under your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you gently off the couch before you could fully drift off again. you gasped softly from the motion but wrapped your arms around his neck with ease, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

he carried you like it was the easiest thing in the world. like you weren’t his whole world, curled in his arms, reminding him that this, not boardrooms, not suits, not anything else, was the only thing he wanted to come home to.

“you always carry me,” you mumbled, half asleep. “and i always will,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss just above your ear. “even if you’re ninety and scolding me for working too hard, i’ll still pick you up off the couch and carry you to bed.”

you let out a sleepy laugh, nuzzling into his neck, your fingers tracing lazy lines along the back of his collar. “hope you never get tired of me…”

he paused at the bedroom door, looked down at you with so much love it made his chest physically ache. “never,” he said softly. “you’re my peace, baby. i run to you.”

he laid you down gently on the bed, covering you with the comforter like you were the most delicate part of his day. then he loosened his tie, slipped off his blazer, and crawled in beside you.

once he was settled, you reached for him instinctively, pulling him close until his chest was pressed to your back and his hand was splayed against your stomach, holding you like a man starved for softness.

“i missed you,” you whispered. he kissed the top of your shoulder, nose brushing your skin. “i missed you more.”

before the night faded into silence, before sleep truly pulled you under, he murmured the last thing you heard that night.

“don’t ever fall asleep alone out here again, sweetheart. if i’m late, you wait for me in bed. i’ll always come home to you. i promise.” and just like that, his arms around you, the smell of lilies in the air, you believed him. because jay never broke a promise to you. and never would.

⋆｡°✩ @cheruphic @liwinly @chrrific @hyukabean @ijustwannareadstuff20 @jellyluv4eva @heekolazz @soona-huh @hoonprksung @sunhrtss @starniras @lovestruck-sky @j4eyxn

[vivvangel]

🎧helloo just a cute sfw content but could u do enha meeting their s/o dad, make the dad like hella protective or smtg idk i just thought of this and i think it wud be rlly cute seeing them scared 😭😭 u dont have to do it it was jst a request hehe,btw i love all your works such an amazing writer🫶🏻

enhypen meeting their s/o’s hella protective dad

wc: 850

warnings: mild n dry humor, protective dad, light nervousness, bf!enha x reader

 ♡ lee heeseung

• politely stands straight as a ruler, eyes sharp but respectful. “hello, sir. i’m lee heeseung. it’s an honor.” (bro is STRESSING).

• when your dad gives him the “tell me you won’t break my kid” look, he starts nervously listing volunteer work. “i swear, sir, i help at animal shelters. i’m responsible, i promise.”

• you grab his hand under the table — “chill, it’s not an interview.” later, your dad eyes him over coffee, and he blurts out, “i also make amazing ramen, sir!”

• heeseung whispers later, “your dad can literally see into my soul, baby.”

 ♡ park jongseong

• walks in with the usual confident grin, but three and a half seconds later, your dad’s stare has him frozen mid-smile.

• “sir, you raised someone amazing. you should be proud of yourseld,” he tries to smooth talk. your dad deadpans, “and why should i be okay with you dating them?” jay stammers, face flushed like he lost his script.

• next time, he pulls out a small gift and maybe a dozen apologies. your dad folds his arms, and jay nervously says, “i uh… like to win people over… including dads.” lowkey thinking “definitely not ready for round two.”

 ♡ sim jaeyun

• is pure sunshine but totally rattled by the dad glare.

• “hi sir! i like your child a lot! no, like really! uh, respect too!” he trips over his words until you jump in to save him from digging his own grave.

• your dad warns, “you hurt them, i’ll find you,” voice so serious jake laughs nervously then stops.

• he spends the week texting your dad with “sir” after every sentence.

• some time latwr, nervously, jake would offer to help your dad with groceries to prove trustworthiness. “do you need help with the… uh, heavy things?”

 ♡ park sunghoon

• looks calm, collected, as you'd expect from him, but the dad glare cracks his ice just a bit.

• he answers questions like it’s a courtroom cross-exam. “my intention? to treat your kid with respect and buy them all the bubble tea their heart wants,” his voice a little shaky. you'd squeeze his hand, sensing his nerves under the cool surface. your dad says, “behave yourself.” sunghoon smirks, “trying my best, sir,” but his fingers twitch nervously.

• lowkey grateful you’re his anchor.

 ♡ yang jungwon

• bows so many times he practically folds in half.

• respectful energy is next level angel vibes. “yes sir, no sir, i promise sir,” he answers like a good student. dad’s stare equals sweating intensifies.

• after the meeting, jungwon admits, “your dad is intense. like, next level.”

• he would probably accidentally drop his phone nervously, pick it up, and mutter, “sorry sir.” you would laugh, and say, “he’s terrified but cute.”

 ♡ kim sunoo

• shows up with a huge smile and dessert gift, confident af, but his smile fades fast when your dad asks, “why do you think you can date my kid?”

• with no smile back. sunoo nervously rambles about how amazing you are and how he’s a good boy raised right.

• he tries charm but fails, ending up baking cookies to win over your dad. awkwardly, he offers the cookies saying, “for your health, sir… and my future.” your dad eyes him like a hawk but nods just a little.

 ♡ nishimura riki

• is calm, polite, bows slightly with very respectful japanese manners.

• “nice to meet you, sir,” his voice soft but confident. when your dad warns, “you’re young, but i’m watching,” ni-ki freezes but stays cool.

• after he leaves, ni-ki mutters, “your dad’s scary.” lowkey impressed but definitely nervous.

• before the meeting, he'd probably practice deep breaths saying, “okay… stay cool… you got this.” and adds under his breath, “what if i just say ‘please don’t kill me’?”

viv's note: not proofread, apologies for any and all grammatical errors.

[doellas]

✶ LONDON BOY , park jongseong

﹙ 𝟏𝟖𝟕𝟕 ﹚ 𝒚𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦.

愛 。 idol ! jay 𝓍 f ! reader ˎˊ˗ 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐮 , fluff , petnames , lots of "baby" , humour , mentions of eating , lots of missing each other , mentions of being sick , not proofread , all in lowercase . . .

reblogs ───── 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 !

𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 commented : i just wanted to thank rin ( @ki2rins ) for giving me the idea to do this ! this was so so so fun to make so i dedicate this post to you baby ᢉ𐭩

esther's bbs ( opened ) : @ki2rins @chromenishi @yuuuraaa @beomev

[ikeu05]

GONNA GIVE IT TO YOU ✮ IN CAPITAL LETTERS

𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 。 where you get to spend some time with your boyfriend, even if it's during planning his company event

✸ jay x fem!reader 2.6k fluff slight angst(?) established relationship! au ୨୧ there's some creep involved but jay shoots him down lmao

yn had only just settled into her new routine, finally adjusting to the shift from managing chaos in the bustling hotel lobby to orchestrating it all from the calm, air-conditioned cocoon of her office. the transition to a desk job was a relief she didn’t know she needed—no more running around in heels or constantly diffusing drama at the concierge. she liked the quiet hum of her computer, the organised chaos of her email inbox, and the feel of a warm mug in her hand while she reviewed weekly memos.

it was a peaceful kind of power—one that suited her.

that morning, she was cross-checking upcoming collaborations and events scheduled with external vendors and partners. a few lines down the excel sheet, her eyes landed on a familiar name that made her pause mid-sip of her coffee.

partner company: grey & rowe associates point of contact: mr. jay park event: corporate awards & banquet, joint planning.

she blinked, reread it twice, and then a slow grin spread across her lips. her fingers were already reaching for the office landline, dialing the number listed beside his name, the name she knew by heart anyway. it rang twice before she heard his voice—calm, crisp, and unmistakably professional.

“this is jay park from grey & rowe, how may i help you?”

god, that voice. he always sounded a little deeper when he was at work, like he wore a suit even through the phone. she nearly giggled but bit it back, sitting straighter in her chair as she responded in her best professional tone.

“good morning, mr. park. this is ms. y/l/n from westview grand. i’m calling regarding the upcoming corporate banquet. we’ll be coordinating on that, and i’d like to go over the preliminary details at your earliest convenience.”

there was a beat of silence. she imagined him blinking at his desk, suddenly realising who ms. y/l/n was.

“ms. y/l/n,” he replied, sounding amused now, but still keeping it formal. “pleasure to hear from you. i can definitely make some time today—does late afternoon work for you?”

her lips twitched. “perfect. i’ll have my team prep the initial layout.”

“i’ll bring mockups from our end as well. we’re quite thorough,” he said smoothly, the smile evident in his voice now.

“of course. i wouldn’t expect anything less from grey & rowe. see you at 3pm mr. park.”

and then—

“i love you, baby,” he said without a change in tone. like it was just another line in their conversation. like it was supposed to be there.

she froze.

across her desk to the two junior team members who had just walked in and looked up with wide eyes, both pretending not to have heard anything. yn’s eyes snapped to them. one of them immediately focused back on their laptop, and the other bit the inside of her cheek like she was physically restraining herself from laughing.

yn hissed into the receiver. “jay!”

“i’m not hanging up until you say it back,” he said simply, his voice now just a little cockier. “come on, miss y/l/n. i’ll sit on this line all day.”

“you’re going to get me fired,” she whispered, hand over her mouth as she swiveled slightly in her chair, facing the wall.

“say it,” he sing-songed. “say it or i’m telling your boss you called to flirt with a vendor.”

“i am the boss,” she hissed again, but her lips were twitching into a smile.

“exactly. so you should really be setting a better example. now—say it.”

“jay—”

“say it, y/l/n. i won’t hang up.”

she looked over her shoulder. both juniors were furiously typing now, trying so hard to act casual. she sighed, then rolled her eyes and mouthed fuck it before speaking quietly into the receiver.

“i love you too, baby.”

he hummed, very satisfied. “thank you. that’ll get me through the rest of my spreadsheets. i’ll see you later, boss lady.”

“don’t call me that at work,” she grumbled, already smiling again.

“i can’t help it. you’re so sexy when you’re in charge.”

“jay—”

“bye, baby!” click.

she hung up slowly, forehead lightly tapping her desk. after a moment, she sat up, straightened her blouse, cleared her throat and looked at her team.

“…that was an important call.”

they both nodded way too quickly.

“totally.”

“very professional.”

by the time the afternoon sun poured golden light through the tall glass windows of the westview grand’s conference wing, yn was knee-deep in coordinating the logistics between her hotel and jay’s firm for the upcoming corporate banquet. jay had requested to stay back a little longer to “fine-tune” some alignment points with her staff. she knew it was partly an excuse to stick around her office, but she also knew he was good at his job and the hotel could use the extra help. so she allowed it.

professionally, she was seated at the edge of the meeting table, reviewing updated rsvp numbers on her ipad. her name tag still clipped neatly to her blouse, hair pinned up in a sleek twist, lipstick now mostly faded after her fourth coffee, but she still looked so impossibly poised that jay couldn’t stop staring. she was sharp-tongued, efficient, and clearly in charge—and the combination made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

jay was seated across from her, typing something into his laptop while simultaneously watching her work. every now and then, he’d sneak in a comment—sweet, teasing, sometimes downright filthy under his breath.

“do you always look this good when you’re mad at excel sheets?” he murmured lowly when she groaned over a broken formula.

she didn’t look up, just muttered, “i will lock you in the storage room with housekeeping supplies, jay.”

a few minutes later, she stood beside the whiteboard to double-check a floor plan, one hand perched on her hip. jay leaned back in his chair to look her up and down with zero shame before whispering under his breath, “i swear that skirt is a corporate crime.”

she turned her head only slightly to narrow her eyes at him. “HR is literally down the hallway.”

“tell them to arrest me.”

she rolled her eyes but bit back a smile.

when she bent over slightly to grab a usb from the lower cabinet drawer, jay immediately opened his phone and snapped a discreet picture—nothing too scandalous, just her hunched over a file box, hair bun slightly askew, shirt slightly creased from the long day, but still so her. still his.

he typed fast, thumbs flying, and sent it to the group chat.

sending to ❤️ spiritually married (poly relationship) ❤️

jay 📸 [image attached: yn mid-task, laser-focused, biting her pen cap slightly while reviewing papers] “my wife is so hot i’m about to propose for the third time today”

intak

huh? what the hell are you doing at her work 😭

yunjin

nah cause that blouse?? that skirt?? y’all letting her look like that around finance bros???

chaewon

girlie is in her slay era also wdym wife… i didn’t get an invite 🧍🏻‍♀️

jake

so this is why you cancelled lunch with me huh 💔💔💔 it's always been holes before sticks with you

jay

jake i will literally punch u in the stick if u make that joke again they’re making us work together for this boring event thing and she’s been bossing everyone around i’m in love

yn

if you post one more pic of me when i’m mid-email i’m transferring your entire event to housekeeping.

jay

my sexy hotelier 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

back in the room, she side-eyed him but said nothing. her cheeks were dusted pink, her lips twitching in spite of herself as she tried to stay composed in front of one of her junior staff.

“stop posting me while i’m working,” she whispered behind a clipboard, lips close to his ear as she passed behind him.

“you looked so serious,” he replied, turning just slightly toward her. “i had to let the people know you’re mine.”

she snorted quietly, brushing past him to check something with the events team.

later that day, jay accompanied her through the ballroom setup. they were discussing potential table placements, but his hand brushed against hers a little too often. she was trying to focus, but he kept doing little things—fixing her collar unnecessarily, leaning in to whisper comments like “you smell way too good for a wednesday,” and once even tucking a strand of hair behind her ear under the guise of “professional appearance.”

when they stopped by the kitchen for a briefing on the menu, the head chef greeted them both with recognition.

“you two together?” the chef asked casually, flipping through the banquet menu.

yn looked up, caught off-guard. “oh—uh, yeah. yes.”

jay grinned shamelessly beside her. “only for five years and counting.”

she nudged him sharply in the ribs. he did not need to bring up their dating tenure in front of the catering department. but the chef only smiled and nodded, already halfway back to instructing the line cooks.

by 6 pm, the prep was almost done. jay’s team had headed back, but he lingered, helping her stack files and reorganise her desk.

“you could’ve gone back with them,” she said quietly, fingers brushing his as they both reached for the same folder.

“and miss more time with you?” he replied, lips tugging into that soft smile she always melted under.

she sighed, turning toward him. “you’re really annoying sometimes, jay park.”

“but you love me.”

“i do,” she muttered. “unfortunately.”

he leaned in, kissed her forehead, then said, “come home early. i’ll cook.”

“by cook, do you mean to order takeout and claim you made it?”

“exactly.”

she rolled her eyes again, but kissed his cheek before he left, watching as he winked over his shoulder on the way out.

once he was gone, she sat back down at her desk, cheeks still slightly warm, heart fluttering just the tiniest bit even after all these years.

soon it was three days before the event.

the hotel was buzzing with last-minute preparations—calls ringing nonstop, staff running around with fresh linens and schedules, and floral vendors carrying massive bouquets through the back halls. yn was buried in the middle of it all, earphones in one ear, highlighter cap in her mouth, trying to reorganise the refreshment slots between sessions without setting the entire guest experience team on fire.

jay had been in and out of the hotel almost every hour, either finalising setup diagrams, dropping off updated invoices, or checking on vendor arrivals. every time he passed by her desk, he made it a point to brush his fingers against hers or tap her water bottle twice—their quiet little signal of i see you, baby.

but there was a new, unwanted presence floating around today.

matt.

recently transferred from another property to “observe and support” major events, as per the general manager’s directive, matt was all loud opinions, over-eager grins, and trying-too-hard swagger. from the moment he entered the planning room, yn wanted to fake a fire drill and bolt.

“miss y/l/n,” he drawled, sliding into the seat beside her, far too close. “heard you’re the brain behind this whole operation. i can see why they put you in charge.”

she didn’t even glance at him. “it’s a team effort.”

“yeah, but i mean, it’s obvious who’s running the show,” he continued, ignoring the polite tone of her reply, and then—he winked.

she wanted to throw her pen at him.

the first time jay saw matt was when he returned from the hotel’s printing center. his eyes immediately went to yn, who had her arms crossed and her face in that familiar i’m two seconds away from slapping someone expression. and then he saw matt. lounging in the chair beside her, grinning like he was on a game show, clearly flirting with her in the most annoying, half-patronising way.

jay’s jaw tightened.

he walked over, placed the updated floor plans on yn’s desk, and cleared his throat.

matt turned around. “oh hey, you’re from… associates or something, right?”

jay didn’t answer. he simply offered a sharp smile and extended a hand. “jay park. lead poc from grey & rowe associates.”

matt shook it lazily. “matt kang. apparently, i’m helping out with this gig now too.”

“oh?” jay cocked his head. “and what exactly are you helping with?”

matt smirked. “just, you know, supporting where i can. especially with yn—figured she could use an extra hand.”

jay turned his gaze to yn for the briefest second—she gave him a tight smile, one that silently screamed don’t stab him. he returned his eyes to matt.

“that’s interesting,” jay said smoothly, stepping slightly closer, his voice still calm. “because yn’s had this event under control for weeks now. she’s the most capable person in this building.”

matt chuckled. “no doubt. just thought she might appreciate the company.”

jay’s smile didn’t falter. “she’s not short on company.”

there was something about the way jay said it—level, soft, yet laced with unmistakable challenge—that made matt shift in his seat slightly. but still, he pushed on, clearly not reading the room.

“can’t say i mind working beside a pretty face, though,” matt said, leaning closer toward yn as if jay wasn’t even there.

yn blinked at him, lips parting in disbelief, but before she could say anything, jay spoke again.

“i’d be careful how you speak to my girlfriend, matt.”

the air went silent. a few heads in the room turned. matt froze for a second, looking back and forth between them.

jay crossed his arms.

“yeah,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “you’ve been flirting with the person i wake up beside every morning.”

matt’s face paled for just a second before he tried to recover with a weak laugh. “oh man—sorry, i didn’t realise—”

“you didn’t ask,” jay cut in, the edge in his tone razor-sharp. “and if i hadn’t been standing here, would you have kept at it?”

yn’s lips twitched. she didn’t speak, didn’t have to. jay’s entire stance, the way he stood just in front of her desk now, subtly between her and matt—it was all doing the talking.

“i—” matt started again, but jay didn’t wait for another excuse.

“she doesn’t need your help, your comments, or your attention,” he said flatly. “so maybe keep your eyes on your clipboard and not on my girl, yeah?”

yn coughed to hide her smile. several people in the room were pretending not to be watching the scene like daytime soap.

matt swallowed and nodded once. “right. of course.”

he shuffled off a second later, muttering something about checking in with the banquet team. jay didn’t even spare him another glance.

the second they were alone, yn leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.

“well damn,” she teased, crossing her legs slowly. “i didn’t even need to say anything.”

jay looked down at her, his expression softening immediately. “you shouldn’t have to.”

she smiled at that. “you were kinda hot just now.”

jay raised a brow. “kinda?”

she tilted her head. “fine. very hot.”

he leaned forward, palms resting on the desk, his face suddenly close to hers. “you like when i put little boys in their place?”

her cheeks flushed.

“jay—”

he kissed her cheek and pulled back with a smug grin. “come on. you owe me coffee now.”

she stood up, grabbing her planner and laptop. “only if you admit you got jealous.”

he opened the door for her. “oh, baby. i wasn’t jealous.”

“no?”

“i was just furious that someone thought they had a chance with ms. y/l/n.”

they walked off side by side, yn’s hand bumping against his every few steps. and although she didn’t say it out loud, her heart was warm, giddy, and very satisfied that jay park was hers.

nessie 🗯️ yeeeee ive been wanting to post this for a while now i loooveeeee ceo jay core it's always so hot

tag𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 drop a comment down or send me an ASK to be a part of my taglist <3

@wenomakiluvr @jaysguitarstring @amatariki @luvchaew @rairaiblog @onlyywwon @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @tinyteezer @zoe1love @doellas

[mssishipi]

my boyfriend's in a band —pjs

One second, you were telling a little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the whole school thought you were dating Park Jongseong—the cold, untouchable, and ridiculously hot guitarist. What started as a desperate move to boost your reputation took a wild turn when Jay decided to go along with it. Now, you’re caught up in nonstop gossip, awkward moments, and a fake relationship that feels a little too real—especially with Jay showing a surprisingly sweet side that no one, including you, saw coming.

content tags: fake dating, lots of fluffs, comedy, slight angst, strangers to lovers, reader is in 11th grade while jay is in 12th, (but both of them are over the age of 18) reader is short, jay smokes vape in the middle of the story, jay hates everyone lol. warning: profanities, mentions of sex, mild smut. WC: 14.7k

song used: same ground by kitchie nadal

note: thank you for the 95 followers!

You were a simple girl.

Simple, average, ordinary. Not the type to snag straight A's in every class, but not failing either. You were the kind of girl teachers barely noticed—just another name on the roll call, another face in the crowd.

You liked pink—just enough to keep it cute, but not the over-the-top glittery kind.

You didn't obsess over fandoms or have bags covered in pins and but you have figurines. Your style wasn't edgy or pastel chic or anything that made you stand out. You were... balanced. Plain. Normal.

Your high school life reflected that. Simple. Average. No exciting detours.

You weren't a sports star who got their name chanted in the bleachers. You weren't a science geek impressing everyone with your brainpower. You weren't a mean girl, a party kid, or a cheerleader.

Oh, but you wanted to be a cheerleader.

You wanted to wear that uniform, flip through the air, feel the rush of the crowd. You wanted the applause, the way everyone's eyes followed them when they walked the halls.

But no one cared about a normal girl trying out.

Reputation was everything in high school, and yours? Too simple. Too... forgettable.

You could cheer. You could dance. You could pull off a backflip, a split, the whole routine. You had the skills. What you didn't have was the image.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the cheerleaders asked, her voice dismissive as you landed your final jump during tryouts. You stood there, panting, sweat dripping down your face after nailing the routine.

"A boyfriend?" you repeated, blinking, stunned. What did that have to do with anything?

"From football? Hockey? Maybe Math Olympiad?" she continued, her smirk curling like she already knew the answer.

You froze. Of course you didn't have a boyfriend. You were an NBSB—No Boyfriend Since Birth kind of girl. But how was that even relevant? You were here to cheer, not audition for a dating show.

"We'll let you know if you're accepted... or not," another cheerleader chimed in, her voice dripping with boredom. She wasn't even pretending to care about your performance.

You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing, gripping your bag so tight your knuckles turned white. The sting of their indifference burned in your chest as you turned and walked out of the gym, sweaty and defeated.

Reputation doesn't matter, they always said. What a joke. High school was all about reputation—who you dated, who you were seen with, who you weren't.

And being a simple, average, normal girl? That just wasn't good enough.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself face-to-face with them again—the cheerleader tryouts.

So, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out:

"My boyfriend is Park Jongseong."

The world seemed to stop for a second. All the cheerleaders froze, wide-eyed, jaws dropping like a scene from a poorly-scripted teen drama.

"Wait—Park Jongseong?!" one of them shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "The hot guitarist in the band?"

You nodded, keeping your expression sweet and innocent, careful not to let your fabricated lie crumble.

"Oh my god!" Another cheerleader nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's, like, the hottest guy in school! And so... mysterious."

"He's so cold, though," another chimed in, tilting her head suspiciously. "How did you even—"

You cut her off, spinning your web of lies before she could unravel it. "Oh, it just... happened," you said with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal.

"We met at this café off campus. He asked me about my drink order, and, well..." You let out a dreamy sigh, painting a picture so vivid you could almost convince yourself it was real.

"He's so sweet. He cares about me so much. Like, he cooks for me when I'm tired, aftercare after sex, kisses me goodbye every morning, and—" You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice to a whisper. "He even lets me touch his guitar."

The gasps that followed were almost deafening.

"No way!" one of them shrieked, clutching her chest in disbelief. "Park Jongseong doesn't let anyone touch his guitar!"

You nodded solemnly, as if sharing a sacred truth. "Well, he lets me."

For a moment, you thought you'd pulled it off. You were a star in their eyes, a girl who'd managed to capture the unattainable Park Jongseong's heart.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

Park Jongseong hate everyone, especially you. And honestly? You didn't blame him.

The first time you'd crossed paths, it had been a disaster.

You'd been drinking water at your locker when he appeared out of nowhere, walking right past you. Startled by his sudden presence, you'd choked, spraying water directly into his face.

His jaw had clenched, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to lose his temper.

"Sorry!" you'd squeaked, your face burning with humiliation.

And then, like the socially awkward creature you were, you'd bolted down the hallway, leaving him dripping and furious.

Then there was the incident in the music room.

You'd been poking around the instruments out of boredom, your fingers grazing the strings of a random guitar when—CRASH. Your foot caught on something, and the stand holding his prized guitar tipped over, sending it sprawling to the floor.

Right at that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Park Jongseong.

You froze like a deer in headlights, your heart dropping to your stomach as his gaze landed on his guitar, then on you. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered, holding up your hands in a weak peace sign. Before he could say anything, you darted out of the room. You ran away, again.

And who could forget the volleyball incident?

You'd been practicing serves in the gym when he and his friends walked in. Your focus wavered for a split second, and the ball sailed in the wrong direction—straight into his face.

You gasped as blood began dripping from his nose. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you stammered, panicking as he grabbed his face, clearly in pain.

Without thinking (or, honestly, with too much thinking), you did what you always did. You ran, again.

And now, standing here, spinning lies about a romance that didn't exist, you had to fight to keep your composure.

"Wow," one of the cheerleaders gushed. "I can't believe you and Jongseong are, like... a thing!"

"Yeah," you said with a forced laugh, clutching your bag tightly to hide how sweaty your palms were. "He's... amazing."

But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was how Park Jongseong would react if he ever found out about this.

And...The story spread faster than you could have ever imagined.

One second, you were fabricating a harmless little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the entire school seemed to think you and Park Jongseong were soulmates—or worse, a thing.

And not just any kind of "thing." No. The rumors had grown legs, arms, and a whole personality.

"Is it true that Park Jongseong is... like, huge in bed?" one girl whispered as you passed her in the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You choked on absolutely nothing, gripping your bag as if it might save you from spontaneously combusting.

Another girl caught up to you, practically skipping alongside you. "Oh my God, how was it? You know, with him? Is he all intense and broody like he looks, or does he have a soft side?"

You stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"He's... uh... great?" you stammered, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so unconvincing.

Her jaw dropped, and before you knew it, a crowd of girls—yes, the famous girls—was swarming you, each one louder and more persistent than the last.

"I can't believe you got him to date you!"

"Wait, wait, wait—did he really let you touch his guitar? Because I heard he doesn't even let his bandmates touch it."

"What's his favorite food? Does he let you steal his hoodies? Is he ticklish?"

"Is he actually the silent-in-public, wild-in-private type? Tell us everything!"

Your head was spinning. They were everywhere, and you couldn't escape. You tried smiling naturally, nodding here and there, but the panic bubbling inside you was threatening to explode.

"Oh my God, you're not even in the cheerleading pep squad yet? How dare they still not accept you!" one girl exclaimed dramatically. She flipped her hair with a loud scoff. "I mean, I saw your audition, and it was fucking amazing."

You blinked. She definitely had not seen your audition.

"Y-yeah, um... thanks," you muttered, clutching your bag tighter and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

It was still early, but the hallway was packed. The questions kept coming, the voices growing louder, and you were just about ready to melt into the floor.

And then it happened.

You let out a tiny squeak as someone grabbed your arm, yanking you out of the circle of girls. You stumbled, blinking in shock, and turned to see who your savior—or captor—was.

Your heart nearly stopped.

It was him.

Park Jongseong!

Jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes darker than your worst nightmares, and hair falling messily across his forehead like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

Except he didn't look like a model. No. He looked angry.

Like, furious.

Oh, you were so, so dead.

"S-see you later, girls!" you called out, your voice cracking as you tried to sound cheerful. You gripped his arm like your life depended on it, forcing a smile as he dragged you through the hallway.

The crowd erupted behind you.

"Oh my God, they're really together!"

"I knew it!"

"They're so cute! Look at how she holds onto him!"

Your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway locked on you as Jongseong stormed forward, his grip firm but not painful. You tried to match his pace, but his legs were longer, and you were practically jogging to keep up.

You tried to focus on breathing, but the more they talked, the more you wanted to just curl up and disappear.

Meanwhile, Jongseong hadn't said a single word. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Uh, Jongseong—"

Before you could finish, he yanked open the door to a small storage room, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you with a loud click.

"Hey—what are you—"

"Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and sharp.

You blinked, startled. The room was small, cramped, and dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Shelves stacked with cleaning supplies and dusty boxes surrounded you, and the air smelled faintly of bleach.

Jongseong leaned against the door, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"What the hell?" he said finally, his voice laced with irritation.

You swallowed hard, gripping your bag like a shield. "I... I can explain?"

"Yeah, you'd better," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees feel like jelly.

"Why is everyone in this school convinced we're dating? And why," his voice dropped lower, "did I just hear someone asking if I'm good in bed?"

You winced. "Okay, so... it might've gotten a little out of hand."

He let out a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow. "A little?"

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Look, I was just trying to impress the cheerleaders! They don't think I'm cool enough to make the squad, so I might've... um... made up a story."

His jaw tightened. "A story? About me?"

You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I didn't think it would blow up like this! I thought they'd just forget about it after tryouts!"

"Oh, yeah, because rumors about me always disappear quietly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bit your lip, your embarrassment growing by the second. "I'm really sorry. I'll fix it. I promise."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "How exactly do you plan to fix this? Everyone already thinks we're a couple. You should've thought about that before you opened your mouth."

"I know, I know!" you said, your voice rising slightly. "But I didn't think people would actually believe me! I mean, look at you! You're, like... you, and I'm just... me."

He stared at you, one eyebrow twitching. "What does that even mean?"

"It means no one would ever think you would date someone like me!" you blurted out.

There was a brief silence, Jongseong blinked, his expression unreadable.

"Wow," he said finally, his tone flat. "That's... depressing."

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I'm making this worse, aren't I?"

"Yeah," he said bluntly.

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice small. "Can you... just not kill me, though?"

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. For a moment, he looked like he was considering throwing you out the door, but instead, he leaned back against it, running a hand down his face.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to go out there, tell everyone you lied, and make sure my name is out of their mouths by the end of the day."

Your eyes widened. "I can't do that! If I tell them the truth, I'll look like a total loser! They'll never let me on the squad!"

"Not my problem," he shot back.

"Please!" you pleaded, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Just... let me ride this out a little longer. I'll figure out a way to fix it without dragging your name through the mud, I promise!"

He stared at you for a long moment. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do whatever you want," he said finally.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Don't make me regret this," he added,

"I'll do anything!" you said quickly, your relief overwhelming your sense of pride.

His eyes flicked back to yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Anything?"

You hesitated. "Uh... within reason?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, pushing off the door and opening it.

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, panicked.

"Class," he said simply, walking out and leaving you standing there, still clutching your bag like it might protect you from the fallout.

"Oh my God, they just came out of the storage room together!" someone squealed.

Your blood froze as a wave of gasps and murmurs rippled down the hallway.

"No way! They're so freaky!"

"They couldn't even wait until after school? A quickie in the storage room?!"

"That's so wild!"

You bolted out of the storage room, your face burning so hot it was probably visible from space. "It's not what you think!" you stammered, waving your hands frantically. "Nothing happened! I swear!"

But your protests only seemed to make things worse.

"Did you see her face? She's totally guilty!"

"God, no wonder he's so obsessed with her. She's probably insane in bed."

"Wait, so does this mean she's, like, not lying about them being a couple?"

The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles, whispers, and scandalized gasps, and you felt your soul leave your body.

At the end of the day, you got the news: you were officially part of the cheerleading pep squad.

This wasn't exactly how you pictured it, but hey, you'd finally made it. You thought practice would be all about jumps, flips, and cheers, but instead, it was questions. Endless questions.

All about your "boyfriend."

By the time practice ended, you were convinced the squad cared more about Park Jongseong than they cared about cheerleading. It was exhausting. They made him your whole personality.

Now, you stood outside the music room, foot tapping nervously as you psyched yourself up. You needed to talk to him. Jongseong—Jay—walked out with his guitar slung over his back, his expression colder than a freezer. His eyes landed on you, sharp and annoyed.

"Why are you here?" he asked, as blunt as ever.

You forced an awkward smile. "Hi! Because... you're my boyfriend?"

Jay scoffed, walking past you like you didn't exist. Panicked, you scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping over your own feet.

"H-hey! Wait!" you called, gripping the edge of his jacket. "I'm Y/N! Please, for the second time, just hear me out!"

He stopped, turned, and stared at you with the kind of look that could burn holes in concrete. "What do you want now?"

You fumbled with your bag, your cheeks burning. "I just... I wanted to talk about—"

"Fuck off," he snapped, making you flinch and throw your hands up like you were bracing for impact.

"I'm sorry!" you squeaked, your voice small.

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted his weight. For a second, his eyes softened—but not enough to let you relax.

"I already let you use my name. What else do you want from me?" he asked, voice low and sharp.

You bit your lip, tapping your foot nervously. You'd practiced this speech in your head a hundred times, but the words suddenly felt scrambled.

"I just... I got into the cheerleading squad, but they keep asking me questions about you, and—"

His glare deepened. "After you spilled water on me, crashed my guitar, and hit me in the face with a volleyball, what more do you want?"

You gasped, offended. "E-excuse me?! Those were accidents!" you said, emphasizing the word with dramatic hand gestures.

"I didn't spill water on you on purpose! And I didn't crash your guitar—it fell! And your nose? Total accident!"

Jay's expression didn't budge. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

He turned to leave, but you panicked again, grabbing his arm and walking beside him as fast as your shorter legs could go.

"Please, just help me for a little while longer!" you pleaded.

He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at you, looking like he wanted to throw himself into the nearest trash can. "You got what you wanted. Tell them we broke up or something."

You shook your head frantically. "No, no, no! I know I'm a loser for using your name, but I need to keep this up for a few more months!"

Jay's jaw tightened. "What now?"

"I just... need some information about you," you said, your voice small. "Like, your favorite color, or your hobbies, or—"

He cut you off with a groan. "Just make something up. You're good at that."

"But it sounds fake!" you whined, stomping a little like a frustrated child.

Jay stopped walking and turned to glare at you again. "And the story about the café and me being good in bed doesn't sound fake?"

Your cheeks turned crimson. "I-I didn't say anything about you being good in bed!" you squeaked, waving your hands defensively. "I just said you were good at, uh, aftercare! They're the ones who assumed the rest!"

Jay stared at you, his face unreadable, but the way his lips twitched told you he was this close to laughing.

"So, you want more information about me so you can answer their next stupid questions?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Exactly!"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Like if I'm huge?"

Your brain short-circuited. "N-no!" you squealed, stepping back as your cheeks burned even hotter. "It's not like that!"

Jay smirked, adjusting the strap of his guitar as he stood up straight again. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with your cheerleading squad, girlfriend."

And with that, he totally walked away, leaving you standing there, red-faced and humiliated. But you weren't about to give up.

No way. You'd come too far and sacrificed too much pride to back down now. If groveling got you this far, then maybe going lower would get you what you needed.

So, you became... everywhere.

After his chemistry class, there you were, waiting outside the door with a bright smile and an awkward wave. "Hi! How was class? Did you learn anything interesting?"

He barely looked at you as he walked past, muttering, "I don't know, did you?"

At his band practice, you somehow sweet-talked your way in. His bandmates, thinking you were his girlfriend, welcomed you with open arms.

"Jay never told us you were so supportive," one of them said, grinning.

"Y-yeah! That's me! Super supportive!" you laughed nervously, while Jay sat in the corner, tuning his guitar, looking like he was plotting your demise.

But you stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him play with stars in your eyes. He was good—like, really good—and for a second, you almost forgot how much he hated you.

After practice, you walked out with him, chatting non-stop about your cheerleading routine. "So then Karina said I should try a - "

Jay, walking ahead of you, sighed heavily. "Do you ever stop talking?"

You froze for half a second before jogging to catch up. "Not really!" you said cheerfully, ignoring the withering glare he shot you.

During break time, you plopped down beside him in the cafeteria, chatting away about your practice. You didn't even realize you were rambling until he looked at you, his expression blank.

"Do you ever run out of words?" he asked, deadpan.

You blinked. "Uh... no?"

He groaned, rubbing his temples.

It wasn't long before your cheer squad started noticing things, too.

During one break, Yunjin leaned over, lazily plucking at her nails. "Your relationship seems so... one-sided," she said casually, enough to make your stomach drop.

"Eh?" you squeaked, your chest tightening with nerves. "W-what do you mean?"

Yunjin shrugged. "We never see you guys together. And when we do, he looks like he's about murdering someone."

You forced a laugh, your hands sweaty. "W-well, he's just... had a lot of bad days lately!"

"Jay's always having bad days when he's with you?" she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"And you two don't even kiss in public," Karina added, leaning her chin on her hand.

Your throat went dry. "Uh, well, he doesn't like PDA," you said quickly.

The two of them exchanged looks but eventually shrugged, letting it go. You let out a quiet breath of relief, only to freeze when Karina clapped her hands.

"Y/N, you said you can do back handsprings, right?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Do you need me to—"

"Great!" Karina stood, surveying the gym with a critical eye. "We need you to cover the entire formation during lifting. Can you do five in a row?"

Your eyes widened. "F-five?"

"Yeah, starting from over there." Karina gestured to the far side of the gym.

You forced a smile and walked to the starting position, nerves rattling in your chest. Everyone's eyes were on you.

You took a deep breath and started your back handsprings, nailing five in a row. When you landed, slightly dizzy, you raised your arms triumphantly.

"Hmm... it doesn't cover the right side," Karina said, tapping her chin. "Y/N, try seven this time."

Your smile faltered. "S-seven?"

They nodded.

You did as they asked, pushing through the dizziness, only to hear them call for more.

By the fourth round, you were practically collapsing mid-air. Ten was far too much, and by the end, your knees hit the floor hard, sending pain shooting up your legs.

"Oh, perfect!" Karina said, clapping her hands. "That covered the whole area. Great job, Y/N! But you need to work on your posture."

You winced, clutching your bruised knee as you shuffled to sit beside the others. The pain was sharp, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced a smile, trying to keep it together.

"I'm kind of craving boba tea," Karina said suddenly, standing up. "Who wants some?"

"Oh, me too!" Giselle chimed in, followed by the rest of the squad eagerly raising their hands.

"Perfect!" Karina said, pulling out a notepad. "Let's make a list."

A moment later, she shoved the list into your hands. "Here. And here's the money. You can go get it for us."

You stared at the list, dumbfounded. "Wait... me?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Y/N!" she said brightly, already turning to talk to Giselle about something else.

You blinked, standing stiffly as pain radiated from your knees. You didn't even have the energy to argue. Instead, you hobbled to the restroom first, tears spilling over as you washed your knees.

Violet bruises were already forming, and the cold water stung as it ran over the tender skin.

This wasn't what you'd imagined when you dreamed of joining the cheer squad.

You thought it would be glamorous—flipping in the air, cheering under bright lights, and finally belonging to something cool.

Instead, here you were, limping to a nearby boba shop with bruised knees and teary eyes.

Still, you told yourself it was okay. You were part of them now. You weren't just a simple girl anymore—you were a cheerleader. Their friend. It was normal to run errands and do things for your friends, right?

So why did it feel so awful?

As you stood in line, you checked the money Karina had handed you earlier, only to realize it was short. Way short.

You panicked for a moment, but what could you do? You had no choice but to pay for the rest out of your own pocket, all while swallowing the lump in your throat.

By the time you were walking back to school, holding a bunch of boba cups in flimsy plastic bags, you were crying. Pathetically.

Tears streaked your face, and your lips wobbled as you sniffled, trying not to let the world see how pitiful you looked.

But it wasn't their fault, you told yourself. They weren't bullying you. You were just having a sensitive day. Your knees hurt from all that back handspring practice, and the money situation had just been bad luck.

That's all.

You furiously wiped at your cheeks, determined to look normal before you made it back to the gym. But then, a voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"What happened to you?"

You nearly dropped the boba.

"Jay!" you yelped, turning to see him standing there with his guitar case slung over his back, his sharp gaze flicking from your tear-streaked face to the plastic bags in your hands—and then to your bruised, purple knees.

"I—uh—hi!" you stammered, forcing an awkward smile.

He didn't return it. "You didn't visit the music room today."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, caught off guard. "I was busy with practice. I completely forgot! I'm sorry!"

He didn't respond, just reached over and took the plastic boba bags from your hands.

You blinked at him, muttering a quiet "thank you" as he carried them down the hallway beside you.

"What happened to you?" he asked again, his tone firmer this time.

You scratched the back of your head, feigning cluelessness. "Uh, what do you mean?"

He gave you a look, and his voice dropped. "Why were you crying? And why do you have bruises all over your knees?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He was staring at you like he could see right through every lie you'd prepared.

"Uh, just... girl stuff!" you blurted, laughing awkwardly. "You know, sensitive day!"

"And your knees?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, that?" You waved a hand as if it were nothing. "They made me practice back handsprings today. I just, uh, had a bad landing. But I'm totally fine! See?" You gave him a shaky thumbs-up, forcing another smile.

Jay didn't look convinced. His gaze flickered back to your knees, then to your face.

"Why? Do you care about me?" you teased, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.

He rolled his eyes, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Without a word, he gestured toward the gym door.

"You first."

You laughed nervously, pushing the door open and walking inside.

"Oh, Y/N," Karina called out from across the gym. "Coach said we're not allowed to have boba anymore since she's strict about our diet. Did you already buy it?"

Your face fell. "Yes..."

"Oh crap!" Giselle smacked her forehead. "I texted you, but I guess it didn't go through!"

"But the boba? The money?" one of the girls asked, holding out her hand expectantly.

You hesitated, your voice caught in your throat. "I already bought it," you said quietly, glancing nervously at Jay.

Before you could say anything else, he walked past you, heading toward the bleachers. Without a word, he dropped the bags of boba onto the bench—hard. The cups jostled, some of the liquid spilling over the edges.

"J-Jongseong?!" Karina stammered, her confident tone faltering as she gulped nervously.

Jay stood there, his sharp glare slicing through the room. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice calm but dangerous.

Karina shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat. "W-we didn't mean for her to actually buy them—"

"Yeah?" he cut her off. "Because it looks like you had her running errands like your personal delivery service."

"Jay, it's not like that!" you blurted, defending them instinctively, though your voice wavered.

The room went silent. None of the girls dared to speak as Jay's gaze swept over them, so sharp.

"Is your practice over or something?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because none of you look like you're doing any cheers anymore."

Giselle quickly nodded, her voice high and nervous. "W-we're on a break!"

Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, making Giselle shrink under his gaze.

Finally, he turned to you, and his expression softened just enough to make your chest feel weird—like relief, or maybe something you couldn't quite place.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.

"H-huh?" you stammered, blinking up at him.

"Let's go," he repeated, already turning away.

Before you could argue, he noticed the way you hesitated, the way you winced with every step. His eyes flicked down to your knees, bruised and swollen, and without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

"W-what are you doing?!" you gasped, your face burning red as you scrambled to hold onto him.

The squad collectively let out a series of audible gasps behind you.

"Oh my God, she's not like, totally lying," Karina whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Jay didn't acknowledge them. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you out of the gym.

"Jay, I can walk!" you protested weakly, even though your knees were very much not in walking condition.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job of that," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he adjusted his grip on you.

You clung to him in stunned silence, trying to ignore the burning stares from the squad still watching as the door swung shut behind you.

Your heart raced, and whether it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, you didn't want to think about it.

"You're going to stop running around like this," Jay said firmly as he walked. "If they want boba, they can get it themselves."

"But I'm part of the team now," you mumbled, your voice small.

"You're not their errand girl," he shot back, his eyes flicking down to you.

You shut your mouth, letting him carry you to the clinic as the nurse tended to your bruised knees.

He leaned casually against the wall, watching the whole process like he was supervising. Every time you dared to glance his way, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring you to say something stupid. You wisely kept quiet.

The next day at practice, things hadn't gotten much better.

The girls were still bombarding you with questions—except now, Jay had inadvertently raised your popularity to new heights.

"He's sweet but terrifying," one of them whispered, watching you stretch. "Maybe you should get him to smile for once. He's always glaring."

"Yeah, but it's kind of hot," another one added, fanning herself dramatically. "It's like he hates everyone except her."

You snorted at that, almost choking on your own air. If only they knew the truth. But you couldn't even laugh properly because someone tapped your shoulder, pointing toward the gym doors.

"Y/N, look!"

You turned and nearly choked on your own spit. There he was—Jay—walking toward you.

The girls squealed, whispering loudly as they quickly backed away to give you "privacy."

Your stomach flipped as he approached, his dark eyes scanning the gym before locking on you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, gripping the edge of the bleachers.

He ignored your question, dropping his bag and kneeling in front of you.

"How's your knee?" he asked, his tone softer this time as his eyes flicked to your legs.

"I'm fine! What are you doing here?" you repeated, feeling heat crawl up your neck as the gym filled with the sound of squeals and whispers.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out something.

"I bought you knee pads," he said simply, holding them up.

Your jaw dropped. "What—why?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your leg, his hands warm as he began securing the knee pad in place.

"He's so sweet!" one of the girls whispered loudly.

You tried to ignore the growing crowd of gossipers, your face burning as you stared down at him. "You really didn't have to—"

"Stop moving," he interrupted, his focus entirely on your knee as he adjusted the strap.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "Jay, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I'll watch your routine," he said casually, moving to your other knee.

"What? No!" you exclaimed, flailing slightly. "What do you mean, you'll watch?"

He glanced up at you, a small, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You watch me practice at the music room. It's only fair I watch yours."

"That's different!" you sputtered, your face heating further.

"How is it different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because—because I'm not good at this yet!" you said, flustered. "What's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice light with amusement. "I just want to support my girlfriend."

You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Did he just—

"W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your voice cracking.

"Girlfriend," he repeated smoothly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Isn't that what you keep telling everyone I am?"

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The giggles and gasps around you didn't help, either.

"You can't just—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Relax," he said, smirking as he turned to walk away. "Good luck with practice, babe. I'll be watching."

You watched him head toward the bleachers, still reeling from the fact that Park Jongseong, the untouchable cold Jay, just called you his girlfriend in front of everyone.

If you hadn't been blushing before, you were definitely on fire now.

The routine begins with a burst of synchronized cheers, the squad moving in perfect unison. You jump, spin, and dance, throwing in a split and a clean back handspring. When the lifting section comes, you step onto their hands with, you stick the landing, holding your pose as they lower you carefully.

You finish the routine without letting your bruised knees slow you down, your chest heaving as sweat drips down your temples.

The coach claps, giving feedback to the squad, but all you can think about is sitting down and catching your breath.

Unconsciously, you find yourself collapsing onto the bleachers—right next to Jay. He doesn't say anything, just pulls a water bottle and towel out of his bag, as if he'd been expecting you to need them.

"Here," he mutters, handing them over.

"Thanks," you say, too exhausted to overthink it. You take a long sip of water before draping the towel over your shoulders.

"How's the performance?" you ask him, still catching your breath.

"You're good," he replies simply.

You pause, blinking at him. "No, like... us. The cheering squad. How did we look?"

Jay shrugs, leaning back slightly on the bleachers, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," he says, his tone casual. "I only had my eyes on you."

The water bottle in your hand almost slips from your grasp.

"W-what?" you stammer, turning to look at him.

He doesn't meet your gaze, his expression cool and indifferent, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips. "You heard me," he says, his voice even.

Your face heats up, and you're not sure if it's from the workout or his words. Before you can respond, one of your squadmates calls your name, pulling you back to reality.

"I—uh, thanks," you mumble, scrambling to stand.

"Don't fall," Jay says, glancing at your knees briefly before leaning back and pulling out his phone, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your heart races as you jog back to the squad, Jay's words replaying in your mind. "I only had my eyes on you."

What was that supposed to mean?

Over the following weeks, something shifted. Jay did seem to like you—no, that would be too strong—but he definitely didn't hate you anymore. If anything, it felt like he had resigned himself to your presence.

Your schedules matched perfectly: you'd stop by the music room before your cheer practice, watching him play with quiet awe. After his practice ended, you'd walk together to the gym, where he'd drop you off with a gruff nod.

And during those walks, you talked. A lot.

Jay didn't interrupt or roll his eyes at your endless stream of words, but he didn't say much either. He'd let you ramble about random things—your favorite stories, songs, foods, or some obscure fact you'd read online.

One day, while rifling through your bag in frustration, you whined, "Crap, I always forget to bring an extra shirt!"

Jay didn't respond, just kept walking. You assumed he wasn't even listening.

But the next day, when you showed up for your routine walk to the gym, he handed you a neatly folded shirt.

"Here," he said, his tone flat, as though it wasn't a big deal.

You blinked, staring at it. "Wait, is this for me?"

"No, it's for the bench," he replied dryly. Then, seeing your expression, added, "You said you forget yours. Just take it."

Your heart skipped as you took the shirt, muttering a soft "thank you."

On another day, after practice, you grinned at him. "I really want a spicy ramen—like, with crab sticks and shrimp! Let's go get some!"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a one-way ticket to high blood pressure," he deadpanned.

You pouted, whining dramatically. "Come on, Jay!"

Yet not long after, you found yourselves seated at a small ramen shop. You happily slurped your noodles, your feet swinging slightly under the table. Jay glanced down at your feet before looking up at you, finding you smiling as you focused on your bowl.

"What?" you asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his own noodles.

Spending time with Jay made you lose your guard in the best way.

You weren't as self-conscious anymore, and little things just felt... natural. Like the time you were walking together, mid-laugh, and he suddenly pulled your arm to stop you.

"Look both ways," he mumbled, his hand lingering on your arm as you gripped it instinctively.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his. "Okay, Dad."

He didn't respond, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.

Another habit of his? Waiting for you after practice, leaning against his motorcycle with his usual nonchalant expression. He'd nod for you to hop on, offering you his spare helmet.

It felt normal now—holding onto him as he drove, the wind whipping around you as the city lights blurred by.

Sometimes, Jay and you didn't even talk. Like when you'd share a cup of ice cream on a bench after practice, the two of you just staring at nothing. He'd sit beside you, watching as you bit down on your spoon absentmindedly.

"You look dumb," he'd say eventually, breaking the silence.

You'd laugh and stick your tongue out at him. "Thanks, Jay. Love the confidence boost."

Jay's attention to small things surprised you most when it came to your ketchup obsession.

It started when you were both sitting at your usual fast-food joint—a chain with a bright red logo and the smell of fries and fried chicken wafting through the air.

You'd always order the same thing: chicken nuggets and fries. But what made you stand out (to Jay, at least) was how you hoarded ketchup packets.

You never even used them at the restaurant. Instead, you'd stuff them into your bag, mumbling something about "saving them for later." Jay didn't ask at first, but the mystery was solved when he saw you in their practice one day, pulling out one of those packets.

You ripped it open quietly, then tipped the packet to your mouth and slurped the ketchup straight out of it.

A week later, during a break, Jay casually handed you a small stack of ketchup packets.

"Where did you get these?" you squealed, your eyes sparkling as you grabbed them from his hand.

"My bandmates ordered fries," he said with a shrug. "They don't like ketchup, so I took them."

You stared at him, your heart doing an annoying little flip. "Jay, you get me," you said dramatically, clutching the packets to your chest like they were a bouquet of roses.

"Don't make this weird," he muttered, already turning away.

You ripped one open immediately, slurping the sweet and tangy ketchup with a grin. "Thanks, Jay!"

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again—his almost-smile.

Then there was the time in the cafeteria when he handed you a tissue.

You stared at him, confused. "What's this for?"

"Your lip gloss," he said simply, his tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked, dumbfounded, as heat rose to your cheeks. How did he even notice that you always wiped off your lip gloss before eating?

You muttered a shy "thanks," taking the tissue as your heart thumped in your chest.

And then there were even smaller things.

Like how he bent down to tie your shoelaces without a word when they came undone during your walk.

Or how he fixed your hair once, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a quick, almost annoyed motion.

Or how he straightened your uniform when it got wrinkled after a particularly rough practice, muttering something about how you looked like "a mess."

They weren't grand gestures. Jay wasn't the type for big declarations or sweeping acts of romance. But it was always the small things that left you breathless—the way he noticed you, the way he cared without saying much.

And maybe, just maybe, the cold, untouchable guitarist didn't hate you as much as he let on.

"That's Park Jongseong's girlfriend!"

"Park Jongseong's girl is so pretty!"

"I didn't know Park Jongseong's girlfriend is so good at dancing!"

But honestly? You weren't sure how to feel about it anymore.

People didn't want to know you. They wanted to know him. Even when someone started a conversation with you, it always led back to Jay.

"How did you two meet?"

"What does he do when he's bored?"

"Does he even smile around you?"

You started noticing how Jay wasn't immune, either. People would corner him in the halls, asking invasive questions about your "relationship," and he'd glare at them in that trademark way of his until they got the hint and left. He never complained, never said anything about it to you, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched tighter these days.

You weren't cool. You weren't special.

You were just someone who had made a stupid, selfish decision to drag his name into your mess. And now? You weren't sure if you could keep it up any longer.

It was a quiet afternoon in the music room. Jay sat across from you, strumming his guitar in the golden light of sunset. Normally, this was when you'd ramble on about whatever random topic popped into your head, but today, the words felt too heavy to come out.

Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry if I always bother you," you said suddenly, your voice barely audible.

Jay's fingers stilled on the strings, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at you.

"I... I really don't have any friends," you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. "I think I'm too crazy for the good girls in my class, too dumb for the nerds, and way too soft for the mean girls."

He didn't say anything, but you felt his eyes on you.

"But, you know," you continued, your voice shaky, "you're the first person who's ever... tolerated me. And I really appreciate that."

You laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny. "Thank you, Park Jongseong, for listening to me go on and on about dystopian movies. For putting up with me when I get loud and excited. For not judging my weird ketchup obsession."

Jay leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as you let out a long sigh.

"I thought dragging your name into the cheer squad thing would make me feel like I belonged somewhere," you said, your voice breaking. "But it hasn't. If anything, it's just made me feel worse. Like I'm not enough for them. Like I'll never be enough."

Your chest tightened as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "And... I feel like I've dumped all these responsibilities on you because of one stupid little lie I told. It's not fair to you."

Jay stayed silent, but you could feel his presence, heavy and quiet.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I think... I think it's time we break up."

Jay's hands froze on the guitar, his entire body going still. His gaze sharpened.

"Break up?" he repeated, his tone even but taut, like he was holding something back.

You nodded, your throat closing up. "Yeah. I've caused you enough trouble already. I think... I think it's better if we just end it. It'll be easier for you."

Jay's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the guitar as he stared at you. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with something you couldn't place.

Your chest felt like it was caving in. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to say. So instead, you nodded.

"Yes," you whispered, barely audible.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You expected him to agree, to maybe sigh in relief or tell you that you were right. But instead, he just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice low. "Alright."

Your heart sank at the word, even though it was what you'd asked for. You forced yourself to stand, forcing a shaky "thank you" past your lips as you made your way toward the door.

But just as you reached it, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"But you should know," he said, "that if you think you're not enough, you're wrong."

You froze, your breath hitching. Slowly, you turned to face him.

He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, his fingers idly plucking at the strings, but there was a softness in his voice that you weren't used to.

"You don't have to try so hard to fit into their world," he said quietly. "You already stand out. You don't see it, but you do."

Your throat tightened as tears pricked at your eyes. "Jay..."

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes piercing but calm. "If you want to end it, I'll let you go," he said, his voice steady. "But don't do it because you think you're causing me trouble. That's just you overthinking, as usual."

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, and for a moment, you thought about staying. 

But the weight of your emotions felt too heavy, and you bolted, muttering a weak "thanks" as you ran out of the room, tears already spilling down your cheeks.

You didn't look back, but as you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard the faint sound of his guitar strings—soft, steady, and full of something you didn't quite understand.

By the time you reached the bathroom, you were a mess.

You locked yourself in a stall and let it all out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried—and failed—to convince yourself this was what you wanted.

"It's not even real," you muttered, your voice cracking. "We're not a thing. We were never a thing. Why am I crying like an idiot?"

But no amount of reasoning stopped the ugly sobs from wracking your chest. You clutched some toilet paper, blowing your nose dramatically and telling yourself to get it together.

When you showed up to practice later, your eyes were swollen and red, your nose a little too pink to hide what had happened.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Karina asked, looking concerned.

You forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Oh, by the way..." You paused, sniffling slightly. "Jay and I broke up."

The words felt like ripping off a Band-Aid, but you didn't have time to process them before the room erupted.

"What?!" Giselle gasped, clutching her water bottle.

"No way!" Yunjin exclaimed, already pulling out her phone.

Within hours, the news spread across the school faster than you thought possible. Everywhere you went, you could hear whispers and murmurs about the "breakup."

And Park Jongseong?

He was still Park Jongseong.

You spotted him in the hallway, his face set in stone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as ever.

He walked like he was on his way to commit murder, every step filled with tension. People gave him a wide berth, whispering things like, "He's even scarier than usual," and, "God, she must've really broken his heart."

But when your eyes met his for a split second, he looked away, his expression you can't read.

Your chest ached painfully every time you passed him. And when you were finally alone at night, you curled up in bed and cried yourself to sleep, the pain in your chest refusing to fade.

By the time your classmates dragged you to karaoke, you were on emotional autopilot. You didn't want to be there, but they'd insisted.

"It'll help you get over him!" Sunoo had said, practically shoving you into the room.

It wasn't helping. At all.

Sunoo grabbed the mic, singing passionately as the lyrics flashed across the screen. "That's why I don't understand... why I'm feeling so bad now, when I know it was my idea."

You froze, staring at the lyrics like they'd personally attacked you. Your lips twitched, but you refused to let the tears fall.

Ni-ki leaned forward, grabbing the mic dramatically. "I could've just denied the truth and lied... why am I the only one, standing, stranded on the same ground?!"

You let out a choked laugh, trying to brush off your growing emotions, but then Sunoo turned to you with wide, knowing eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"

"Shut up," you muttered, pulling your cardigan over your face to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

The room erupted as Ni-ki wrestled the mic away from Sunoo. "My love, it's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue." Ni-ki sang into the microphone.

You couldn't help it—the tears started spilling as you wiped them furiously with your sleeve, hoping no one would notice.

"It's hard leaving you that way... when I never wanted to!"

Your classmates were belting out the lyrics, screaming into the mic with way too much passion. And somehow, the chaos made it worse.

"Self-denial is a game!" Ni-ki shouted, practically falling to his knees. "It's strange, I never would've wanted it until there was you!"

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Y/N, are you crying?!" Sunoo gasped dramatically, leaning closer, his voice high-pitched enough to rival a whistle.

"No!" you wailed, burying your face deeper into your cardigan. "It's just—the lyrics are so stupid!"

Jungwon, ever the responsible one, grabbed the remote and immediately switched the song. "Okay, we need a vibe shift. No more heartbreak songs."

The opening beat of Apple Bottom Jeans blasted through the room, and everyone burst into cheers and laughter.

You couldn't help but laugh, sniffing back the last of your tears as Ni-ki grabbed the mic and jumped onto the couch.

You felt a little lighter. Sure, your heart was still aching, but at least now, you now had friends who made it a little easier to breathe.

The next day, you were required to attend the university baseball game. Every student was, but as part of the cheerleading pep squad, you had absolutely no excuse to skip.

The stadium was packed with thousands of students from your university and the rival school, the energy buzzing in the air. You tugged at the hem of your uniform skirt, your face burning with embarrassment. "Is it really this short?!" you whined, glaring at Giselle.

She shushed you with a wave of her pom-poms. "Relax. It's normal!"

"You don't have to be awkward about it," Karina added, flipping her hair. "Your legs look great!"

Your coach, however, was far less delicate. "We're making it look longer because your legs are short," she said bluntly, not even looking up from her clipboard.

You gasped, utterly dumbfounded. "I—should I be offended, or...?"

The coach just shrugged, moving on with her notes.

Before the game officially began, your squad performed a short routine to hype up the crowd. The music blared through the speakers as you stepped forward, executing a clean front handspring. The crowd roared with approval, but your face burned as your skirt rode up mid-flip.

When the routine ended, you cringed, tugging your skirt back down as you returned to your seat at the front. You waved your pom-poms enthusiastically, shouting the university yell every time your team scored, even if you were still mortified from earlier.

When the game finally ended and the crowd began to thin out, you found yourself standing near the bleachers, clutching your pom-poms and phone. The cheer squad was preparing to take pictures, but you hung back for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

That's when someone approached you.

"Hi," a voice said, warm and slightly out of breath.

You turned to see a guy standing in front of you, wearing his baseball uniform. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the game, and his smile was boyish and shy.

"I'm Heeseung," he introduced himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say your routine was really cool. And, uh... I was wondering if I could get your number?"

You blinked, your brain stalling. Wait, what?

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the field.

"Y/N! Hurry up!" Sunoo waved his arms dramatically, yelling over the crowd. "We're taking pictures!"

Your face turned even redder as you looked between Heeseung and Sunoo. Panicking, you muttered a quick, "Sorry, I've gotta go!" before rushing off toward your squad, clutching your pom-poms.

By the time you reached your squad, you were out of breath and flustered, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

You grabbed your bag, rummaging through it in search of a shirt to change into. The crowd had mostly cleared out, and the stadium lights were dimming, but you were too busy muttering to yourself to notice.

Of course, you didn't have a spare shirt. Why would you?

You sighed heavily, dropping your pom-poms into the bag and staring at the empty space inside. Without thinking, you mumbled, "I miss Jay."

The words hung in the air, surprising even you. You froze for a second, realizing what you'd just said out loud.

It had been months since you'd ended things—or whatever it was you'd had—with Jay. And somehow, instead of feeling lighter, you felt worse.

The more you saw him in passing, the more you missed him. The more you craved him. The ache in your chest refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.

Sometimes, you still cried yourself to sleep, clutching your pillow as memories of him flooded your mind.

You hated how much you missed him.

And then there were moments when your body moved on its own, as if drawn to him.

You'd find yourself standing outside the music room, staring at the door like you were waiting for something—or someone—to pull you inside.

But you never went in. You just stood there, your heart heavy, before walking away again.

Or you'd sit at your favorite bench, the one where you used to share ice cream with him after practice. You'd sit there alone, biting the spoon absentmindedly and staring at nothing, replaying old conversations in your head.

It was during one of those quiet moments, as you sat with a half-melted scoop of vanilla in your hand, that the truth finally hit you.

You liked Jay.

No, you more than liked him. You missed him so much it hurt. And the worst part? You had no idea if he missed you, too.

You bit down harder on your spoon, frustration bubbling in your chest.

Why had you been so stupid? Why had you pushed him away when, deep down, he'd been the only one who ever made you feel seen?

Maybe you were too late. Maybe you'd ruined whatever connection you had with him.

But one thought kept circling in your mind, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

What if you weren't too late?

"Do you party?" Sunoo asked casually, flopping onto your bed like it was his own.

You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your skepticism. "Not really. I mean, I've been to a few, but it's not my thing. Why?"

"Let's go to a party this weekend! You know Sunghoon, right? The baseball player? He's hosting!"

You laughed, waving him off. "I'll think about it, but probably not."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but you brushed him off, fully intending to stay home.

But when the weekend came, your plans to stay curled up in bed went out the window.

Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki just barged into your house.

"Why aren't you dressed?!" Sunoo exclaimed, throwing open your closet as Jungwon inspected your makeup drawer.

"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, clutching a pillow like it was a weapon.

"You are going to this party," Ni-ki said, arms crossed like he was your older brother instead of one year younger. "Get ready. Now."

With no way out, you reluctantly threw on a simple crop top and shorts, tying your hair into a ponytail and doing clean, light makeup.

When you arrived at the party, the atmosphere immediately overwhelmed you. The music was loud enough to shake the walls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something smoky lingering in the air.

You stuck close to Sunoo as he handed you a red cup with some drink you didn't recognize.

"Just take a sip!" he shouted over the music.

"Excuse me for a second," you said, escaping to the balcony.

The moment you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, the fresh air calming your nerves. The cool night breeze felt like a blessing after the suffocating heat inside.

But then, you stiffened.

Sitting in one of the chairs was someone you hadn't expected to see—someone you hadn't seen up close in months.

Jay.

He sat with one foot tapping rhythmically against the ground, a vape in his hand. The dim light from the balcony highlighted his sharp jawline, his pointed nose, and the effortless way his hair slicked back. He wore a simple white shirt under a blue Nike jacket, but somehow, he looked stunning.

Your chest tightened painfully as his head turned, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," you said awkwardly, frozen in place.

He stared at you for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his vape.

Without knowing why, you found yourself walking over to him and sitting quietly beside him, your gaze fixed on the stars above.

"I didn't know you actually smoked," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He hummed, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction, making a point to avoid letting any of it near you.

"I don't. Not usually. I don't smoke at school."

He shifted in his seat, sliding the vape into his pocket and straightening his posture.

"Why'd you stop just now?" you asked, glancing at him.

He didn't hesitate. "Your nose is sensitive to strong smells."

Your breath caught, his simple answer hitting you harder than you expected. That was Jay—always quiet, always watching, always knowing without making a big deal of it.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable.

"I'm sorry," the words came out from your mouth.

Jay's gaze snapped to yours, his expression neutral.

"For what?" he asked evenly.

"For just leaving," you said, your voice shaky. "For everything you've done for me, and then me just... walking away. I didn't know what I was feeling back then. I was hurt and scared because... you're you, and I'm just me. I'm not good enough for you—"

Jay didn't respond immediately. His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "And what are you feeling now?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I... I miss you, Jay," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss everything about you. The small things, the way you cared, even if you acted like you didn't. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for being stupid."

Jay looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint humor that made your heart ache.

You managed a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I am."

Jay exhaled slowly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

"I thought you'd like me and never break it off because that's what happens in those books you always talk about, right?" he said, his voice softening. "But somehow, I fell harder than I ever expected."

Your breath hitched as he let out a quiet laugh—so rare, so warm, it made your chest ache. He finally looked at you, his eyes glinting with something vulnerable.

"I've always waited for you," he admitted, his voice low. "Waited for you to stop standing outside the music room and just walk in. But you never did."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face.

"I saw you," he continued. "Every time you sat on that bench, on our place... I saw you at a distance, sitting there, staring at nothing. And I waited. I always waited for your eyes to look at me the way I was looking at you."

Tears began to swell in your eyes as you took in his words.

Jay leaned closer, his movements gentle.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being such a coward. For not walking up to you when I wanted to. I told myself I'd wait, but waiting just hurt more because all I could do was think about you. About us."

He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his hand warm and grounding. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting since you left. Do you feel the same way?"

The tears spilled over, warm and slow, streaking down your cheeks. You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch as you nodded. "I do, Jay. I've been hurting, too."

He watched you closely, his eyes softening as you smiled at him through your tears.

"You're crying," he murmured, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.

"Yeah, well, that's your fault," you whispered, laughing through the tears.

Jay shook his head, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice affectionate.

"And you're annoying," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

But neither of you moved away.

The balcony felt smaller, quieter, as Jay's hand lingered on your cheek. His gaze flickered to your lips for a brief second, and your heart jumped, but he didn't move, waiting instead for you to close the gap.

So you did.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, but then he shifted, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you back.

His hand slid into your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, your lips moving in perfect sync.

When you pulled back just slightly to catch your breath, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered mere inches away.

His voice was low, and soft as he whispered against your lips, "Don't ever think of yourself like that. You're more than enough."

His words struck you deep, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his. "But... you're you, and I'm just me," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jay didn't let you finish. His lips captured yours again, silencing your insecurities. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it made your breath hitch.

"I like you for being you," he said simply.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with emotion. "But you're like a big star," you said, holding up your fingers to make the shape of a small star, "and I'm just... a little star."

Jay's lips curved into the softest smile before he leaned forward again, kissing you gently.

His voice was tender when he murmured against your lips, "A little star that shines brightest in my eyes."

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered laugh, lightly hitting his chest. "How come you always know how to get my heart?!"

Jay chuckled, kissing your forehead as he hugs you.

Jay just wanted to play guitar. That was all. He didn't ask for the reputation, the attention, or the corny nickname the school had slapped on him—the "cold, untouchable hot guitarist." God, how he hated that.

Every day felt the same: girls cornering him in the halls, asking for his number or accidentally brushing their hands against his arms or guitar case. His eyes would glare like knives as he gritted out, "Don't touch me."

He hated it—the fake admiration, the empty attention. Everyone seemed to care about him for all the wrong reasons. And when they annoyed him too much?

"Fuck off," he'd mutter, his tone so cold it practically froze people in their tracks.

But you? You were different.

Jay remembered the school festival three years ago. He'd been sitting in Jake's booth, tuning his guitar lazily while Jake served spicy noodles to an occasional brave (or dumb) soul willing to risk their stomach for the thrill.

It was supposed to be a chill afternoon, but then you showed up.

You were the only person who kept coming back to Jake's booth. Every hour.

"I swear, you're going to burn a hole in your stomach," Jake had told you, half-laughing as he handed you yet another bowl of his stupidly spicy noodles.

"Totally worth it," you'd chirped, your voice high-pitched and cheerful. "Do you have a permanent shop? I'd eat there every day!"

Jay had glanced up from his guitar, staring at you through the slits of the tent. You were completely oblivious to his presence, happily slurping noodles as Jake made small talk with you.

Later, Jake stormed into the tent, tossing his apron onto the chair. "We're sold out," he'd announced. "And it's her fault."

Jay had raised an eyebrow. "Her?"

Jake pointed outside. "The spicy noodle girl. She's been coming back all day. We sold out because of her."

Jay hadn't said anything, but his lips had twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming before he went back to tuning his guitar.

Jay hated everyone. He hated how they tugged at him, how they fawned over him for no reason. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

He remembered the little things—moments that no one else seemed to notice.

Like the time you walked down the hallway with that cute little bag, the kind of bag that didn't really suit a high schooler but looked perfect on you.

It had a figurine hanging from it, neatly wrapped in a plastic pouch, and you carried it like it was your most prized possession.

Then, just days later, he'd found you outside the lost and found office, whining and crying. You'd lost the figurine, and you'd spent an entire lunch period pacing back and forth in front of the office, waiting for someone to turn it in.

Or the time he saw you clapping and cheering during a cheerleading pep squad performance, smiling so brightly that it felt contagious. You weren't even part of the squad back then, just a spectator, but you looked so genuinely happy that even he couldn't look away.

Then there was your PathFit (PE) class. Jay hadn't meant to stop by, but he'd found himself standing near the open door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, as his eyes drifted toward you. You were on the floor, legs stretched into a perfect split, your forehead pressed to the ground as you stretched.

Jay once again noticed you searching frantically for a notebook you'd dropped in the hallway. You were crouched on the floor, mumbling to yourself, "This is why I can't have nice things."

He'd spotted the notebook a few feet away, picked it up, and placed it on the bench beside him.

When you found it moments later, you gasped, "Oh my God, it's a miracle!"

You always said you were just a simple girl. That no one really noticed you or cared about someone like you.

But in Jay's eyes, you were the opposite of invisible.

And every time he thought about you, he realized the same thing.

You stood out more than anyone else ever could.

When you'd spilled water all over his face.

His first reaction wasn't anger or annoyance, but something that surprised even him—he noticed how beautiful you looked up close.

Your wide eyes stared at him in shock, your pouty lips forming a small gasp as you muttered incoherent apologies. The faint, sweet floral scent of your perfume hit him, and for a second, he forgot the cold water dripping down his face.

Jay closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to take in more of that intoxicating scent, grounding himself. But before he could say anything, you bolted, muttering a quick "Sorry!" as you sprinted down the hallway.

He almost laughed when you tripped on your knees, scrambling awkwardly to escape. He stood there for a moment, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.

The second interaction was you crashing out his guitar. He almost didn't notice his guitar on the floor because his eyes were locked on you.

Slowly, you raised two fingers in a peace sign, your expression a mix of guilt and panic.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered before immediately backing out of the room.

Jay stood there, staring at the empty doorway, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even laugh, but the sound never left his throat. You were gone before he could even start a conversation.

And then there was the volleyball incident.

Jay didn't even see the ball coming. One second he was walking into the gym with his friends, and the next, a sharp pain hit him square on the nose.

"Shit," he hissed, dropping to the ground and clutching his face.

When he opened his eyes, you were hovering over him, your face inches from his. Your hair framed your face like a curtain, and there it was again—that scent. Sweet, light, floral.

He blinked up at you, stunned into silence. For a split second, he forgot about the pain, about the blood dripping from his nose. He was too focused on you—your soft features, your panicked expression, the way your lips trembled as you tried to form words.

Before he could open his mouth to tell you he was fine, the blood started pouring out of his nose.

"Crap!" you yelped, standing up quickly, flailing in panic. "I—I'll get help! I'm so sorry!"

And then you ran. Again.

Jay lay there, groaning as Jake handed him a tissue, snickering the entire time.

"Shut up," Jay muttered, even though Jake don't even say anything.

The breaking point came when Jay heard about the rumor that he was in a relationship.

He was furious. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe it. He hated how his name was constantly dragged into things, but this? A fake relationship? With some girl he didn't even know?

Storming through the hallways, he cornered one of the guys he'd overheard spreading the rumor. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he slammed him against the lockers.

"Tell me who started it," Jay demanded, his voice low and sharp. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes boring into the boy's.

"I-I don't know! I swear!" the boy stammered, flinching under Jay's glare. "They said it was some girl—Y/N! Y/N told the cheerleaders about it!"

At the mention of your name, Jay froze. His grip loosened slightly.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Of all people, it was you.

Releasing the boy with a shove, Jay stepped back, his emotions in a whirlwind. He should've been angrier—should've been ready to confront you and demand answers. But instead, he found himself... curious.

He should've been irritated. He should've hated you for dragging his name into a mess.

But somehow, he didn't.

Instead, he felt something he couldn't quite place. And he wasn't sure what annoyed him more—the rumor itself or the fact that the thought of being tied to you didn't bother him as much as it should have.

“Oh my God, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Did they just come back together?!”

Whispers followed the two of you as you walked hand in hand down the hallway. 

Jay’s tall frame dressed in his usual all-black outfit. His guitar case was slung over his back, the strap resting effortlessly against his shoulder, and his hand held yours with an ease that made your heart race.

Every head turned to look at you. It wasn’t just the sight of Jay—cold, untouchable, and intimidating—but the sight of him with you, a cheerful and bubbly cheerleader.

You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice as you whispered, “Do you think a guitarist and a cheerleader is a weird combination?”

Jay glanced down at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression softening. “No,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You and me? We’re a perfect combination.”

You let out a laugh, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “God, you’re so cheesy.”

He smirked faintly but didn’t respond, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement.

Park Jongseong as a fake boyfriend was good.

But Park Jongseong as a real boyfriend? He was so much better.

You used to think of him as just the guy with the sharp jawline, the deadpan expression, and those sharp, eagle-like eyes that seemed to shoot lasers at anyone who got too close. He was the “fuck off” and “shut up” guy, the untouchable guitarist who kept everyone at arm’s length.

But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, you realized how wrong you’d been.

Jay wasn’t just sweet—he was unbelievably sweet.

You remembered all the little lies you’d told about him when you were trying to fit in with the cheer squad.

“He’s so sweet,” you’d said back then, fabricating stories about how he’d treat you like a princess.

But now? Those stories felt laughable because the reality of being with Jay was so much better.

When you were tired, he’d carry your bag without a word.

“Let me take it,” he’d say simply, slipping the strap off your shoulder.

He opened doors for you—every single time. If you walked through a doorway together, you didn’t even have to reach for the handle because Jay would already be holding it open, waiting patiently for you to step through.

Once, when you were getting into a car, you’d bumped your head against the roof. From that moment on, Jay always, always put a hand over your head to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Careful,” he’d murmur, voice low but gentle.

You’d joked about him cooking for you once, completely unaware of how true it would become.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jay had brought you to his house. “You’re tired,” he’d said. “Let me make you something.”

You hadn’t expected much—maybe instant ramen or a sandwich at most. But then you’d watched, wide-eyed, as he moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, and sautéing everything.

“Do you cook often?” you’d asked, leaning against the counter as the delicious aroma filled the room.

“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing at you briefly. “Jake says my food is too good for him, though.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. Jay, the sharp-tongued guitarist, was making you a home-cooked meal. And it wasn’t just good—it was amazing. 

Then there were the kisses.

You’d made up a story once, saying, “He kisses me goodbye every morning.” You thought it was the perfect romantic lie to impress the cheerleaders.

But now? Jay had made it a reality.

Every morning before he left for his own class, he’d touch your cheek lightly, his fingers brushing against your skin.

Then, he’d lean in, his lips meeting yours in the gentlest, softest kiss.

“See you later,” he’d say, before turning and walking away.

Each time, your heart would flutter uncontrollably, your fingers brushing against your lips as you watched him go. 

"Aftercare after sex"

Except now, the real thing had turned out to be even better.

“Jay!” you whined, your hand gripping his hair as your hips moved uncontrollably against his mouth.

His tongue worked magic against your clit, circling and sucking gently while his long fingers moved inside you. His fingers curled just right, hitting your sweet spot effortlessly, and you gasped, your jaw going slack from the overwhelming sensation.

Your stomach tightened as the heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt yourself getting closer with each passing second.

Jay let out a low hum, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand moved up to intertwine with yours, grounding you even as you felt like you might fall apart.

“Feel so good,” you sobbed, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. “Don’t want to stop.”

Jay pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening as he murmured, “Are you close, baby?”

You nodded frantically, your breathing erratic.

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him, your tongue meeting his as the kiss grew messy and desperate. His fingers didn’t slow for a second, pumping relentlessly inside you as you gasped against his mouth.

When you broke the kiss, your eyes were teary, your chest heaving. Jay looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his own breathing labored as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he moved back down between your legs. Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit again, sucking hard.

Your body jolted, your hands clutching at the sheets as you screamed his name. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum—”

Jay hummed in approval, his tongue working in perfect sync with his fingers, coaxing you to the edge. His free hand squeezed yours gently, the small gesture making your heart flutter even as your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face.

“I love you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I love you, I love you—”

Your back arched as the tension inside you snapped, and your vision blurred with stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.

Jay stayed with you through it all, his tongue and fingers slowing to help you ride out the waves. When you finally slumped back against the bed, exhausted and trembling, he moved up beside you, brushing the hair from your face.

He kissed you softly, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he fixed your shirt and wiped you down with gentle care.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, soothing. “You did so good.”

Jay was definitely good at aftercare.

“Is it true that Park Jongseong is… like, huge in bed?”

You flushed instantly, your thoughts flashing to the one time you’d seen him fully exposed, when he’d let you take him in your hand.

Yeah, he was definitely huge.

"Did he really let you touch his guitar?"

You stared down at the sleek Stratocaster electric guitar now resting gently in your lap. Jay handed you a white marker, his eyes soft as he watched your expression shift from confusion to awe.

Your fingers lightly brushed over the strings and the smooth, glossy surface of the guitar’s body. “What’s this for?” you asked, holding up the white marker he had placed in your hand.

“I need you to sign your name on my guitar,” he said casually.

Your eyes widened as you looked between the guitar and Jay, who was now sitting beside you. “W-wait,” you stammered, your voice rising slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it—”

“Baby,” he interrupted, “you’re not ruining it.” He leaned closer, gently pointing at a spot near the edge of the guitar’s body. “Right there. That’s where I want it. Sign it for me, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, this wasn’t just any guitar—it was his guitar. The one he cherished.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding as you carefully uncapped the marker.

You hovered the pen above the guitar for a moment, practicing your signature in the air as your nerves fluttered.

Jay chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm. “You’re acting like you’re signing a million-dollar contract.”

“This is more serious than that,” you shot back, your lips curving into a nervous smile.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed the tip of the marker to the glossy surface, your hand moving carefully as you signed your name. The white ink glided smoothly across the black body, and when you pulled the marker away, you stared at the result with wide eyes.

“Perfect,” Jay murmured.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered on the guitar. His usual sharp, stoic expression was replaced with something softer, his eyes shining as he traced your signature with his finger.

He looked up at you, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burned as you gripped the marker tightly, unsure of what to say.

Jay pulled back slightly, his smile still in place. “Now it’s perfect,” he said simply, taking the guitar from your lap and standing up.

You watched as he adjusted the strap and slung it over his shoulder. His fingers moved instinctively to the strings, testing a few chords, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to your signature.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could hear the pride beneath it.

“It does,” you said softly, your chest feeling warm and full.

It was the school festival again, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Still wearing your cheerleading uniform from your earlier routine, you tugged at your cousin’s arm, practically dragging her through the bustling crowd. The stadium was alive with energy—students cheering, music blasting from nearby booths, and the smell of snacks wafting through the air.

“Come on, we’re going to miss it!” you squealed, your ponytail bouncing as you hurried forward, your pom-poms tucked under your arm.

Your cousin groaned dramatically, trailing behind you. “You’ve been talking about this all day. Who are we even going to see?”

“My boyfriend!” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “My boyfriend's in a band!”

“Boyfriend?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

You turned to her with a mock gasp, clutching your chest like she’d insulted you. “Excuse you. I’ve had one for months now.”

Your cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, then. Let’s see this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”

The two of you found seats near the front, and you craned your neck, scanning the stage as the band members set up. The noise of the crowd grew louder, students and visitors alike cheering as the festival program officially began.

And then he appeared.

Jay stepped onto the stage, standing out against the bright festival decorations. The strap of his guitar rested comfortably on his shoulder, the instrument gleaming under the stage lights—and there it was, your signature on its glossy surface.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you clapped your hands together in excitement.

“Okay, but which one is your boyfriend?” your cousin asked, squinting at the stage as if trying to piece it together.

You didn’t even hesitate. Pointing toward Jay, you said proudly, “The guitarist. His name is Park Jongseong. That’s my boyfriend.”

Your attention was locked on Jay as he adjusted his guitar strap and tested a few chords. His sharp, eagle-like eyes scanned the crowd, his usual stoic expression giving him an air of effortless cool. But then, something changed.

His gaze stopped on you.

Jay’s piercing eyes softened, his lips curving into the faintest smile, the kind of smile he rarely let anyone see. It was small, barely noticeable to most, but you knew it was for you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to take over your face. Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced as he looked at you.

After a brief moment, Jay’s gaze dropped to his guitar. He adjusted the tuning, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the music. He stole one last glance at you before focusing on his task, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to play. 

Your cousin, still in shock, nudged you. “Okay, he’s hot. How did you—like, how did you—end up with him?”

You laughed, brushing her off as you continued to watch Jay. “It’s a long story,” you said, your voice dreamy.

As the band began their set, the crowd’s cheers grew louder, and Jay’s fingers danced effortlessly over the strings. The sound was mesmerizing, and your chest swelled with pride as you watched him command the stage.

And as you sat there, smiling like an idiot, you realized once again how lucky you were to call him yours.

perm taglist: @fancypeacepersona, @immelissaaa

[bywons]

SO ROMANTIC 、 pjs

𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄， 𝗃𝖺𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

❪ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❫ ｡ 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽!𝗉𝗃𝗌 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 1O14 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 .✿ 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 贅沢 𖥔

REBLOG FOR  ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠  KISSES

“do you still love me?”

jay looks offended, deeply offended, and if they handed out oscars for the most disturbed-looking husband on a random thursday afternoon, he would’ve walked up to that stage with a speech memorized. no hesitation.

he lowers the hammer in his hand, lets it drop onto the half-assembled desk with a dull clunk, and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, smearing a bit of sawdust across his temple.

“i literally married you,” he says, breathless, as he steps near you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“yeah but people marry people,” you sigh, putting on a faux sad expression, “but do you really love me—”

“darling, i’m literally building you a wooden vanity closet,” he cuts you quick in your sentence, his eyes wide, “and it has been three hours now. i wouldn’t do that for anyone else.”

you press your lips together to keep from laughing. “you look good doing it though.”

his jaw ticks, he knows not to lose his patience, especially when you are all cute and testing it. he still thinks your question is ridiculous, of course he loves you. he loves you way more than the effort he’s putting in the vanity, and it’s not even one percent of what he’d do for you.

“my back hurts.” he sighs yet again

“because you love me?” “because i’m married to you,” he deadpans, rolls his eyes and strawls closer to you.

you pout. it’s exaggerated, a little playful. “so you don’t love me?”

jay huffs, then drops to his knees in front of you with a thud, on the bed. his hands settle on your thighs, sawdust and all, and his fingers press into your skin gently, grounding.

he looks up. his eyes are warm, but serious. intense, even.

“you drive me insane,” he murmurs. “you leave the shower light on. you forget where your charger is every day. you sing off-key when you think i’m not listening.”

you breathe stops, and before you can muster up a sentence, he says again.

“and i love you like i’m sick with it.”

you feel like your stops, with blood rushing up to your cheeks you really don’t know if you can handle this anymore. his thumb brushes over your knee.

“and if you say dumb shit like that again,” he says, voice low, “i might have to marry you again, just to prove a point.”

you open your mouth, ready to sass him back, but he leans in before you can.

his hand finds your waist, warm and rough from hours of sanding wood. his other hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s mapping it out. like he missed it all day. like he needed this more than food or rest or sanity.

and then he kisses you. not a soft peck. not a tired brush of lips. it’s full. warm. deliberate.

his mouth slides against yours like he’s finally off the clock, like this is his reward — the only thing that makes the bruised knees and splinters and forgotten lunch worth it.

your fingers twist into his shirt instinctively. his thumb brushes down the side of your neck as his lips move against yours with something a little hungry, a little breathless, but still so stupidly in love.

you pull away for air, lips tingling, chest rising in soft, quick breaths. your fingers are still fisted in his shirt, and he looks up at you like you just knocked the wind out of him — which, to be fair, you did.

jay’s lips are red, a little kiss-swollen, and he’s breathing just as hard.

you blink, lips tingling. “so, i guess, you really do love me?”

“i love you when you talk too much,” he continues against your lips, grinning, “and when you ask dumb questions, like if i still love you.”

you let out a tiny gasp, equal parts amused and overwhelmed, and he pulls you even closer, your forehead pressed to his. your hands rest on his shoulders, thumbs brushing the slope of his neck.

“hey,” you whine softly, but he leans forward again and steals another kiss before you can complain further — short, warm, like a punctuation mark.

“i spend three hours building a closet,” he continues, kisses the corner of your mouth, “you sit here looking like a whole heart attack—” another kiss, this time near your chin, “—and then you ask—” kiss “—me—” kiss “—if i—” kiss “love you?” another kiss.

you laugh into his shoulder, hands slipping up into his hair, heart stopping “i just wanted to hear it.”

his lips curl, lazy and crooked. “you’re so annoying,” he mutters

your breath catches as he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing, full of love. “god,” he mutters, eyes still closed, “you drive me insane,” he chuckles again like a reminder.

“you like it,” you whisper, a chuckle falling on your lips.

he smiles, just a little. then, without letting go of you, he sinks to the floor.

kneels. infront of you.

his arms wrap around your waist, cheek pressing softly to your thigh. he exhales against the fabric of your shorts, like being close to you settles everything.

you run your fingers through his hair, slow. comforting. he hums under his breath, content and quiet, letting his body relax against your leg.

“this okay?” he sighs, his lips tickling your skin as he grins on it.

you nod, resting your hand on his cheek. “yeah,” you smile. “more than okay.”

his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes again.

and there you sit, a half-finished vanity in the corner, a husband with sawdust on his arms and love in every touch, and a kiss still tingling on your lips like a promise that never gets old.

your heartbeat is still racing a little. his breaths are slower now. calm. heavy.

“i love you,” he says eventually, voice muffled and slept against your thigh.

you smile. bend forward and kiss the top of his head, “i know. i love you more.”

스루 ܃ uploading this from my college library .. chem i hate you 😞 feedbacks are very much appreciated !

© bywons, 2025 div ctto —taglist open ! nets. @/k-labels @kflixnet @k-films

[purinfelix]

ᯓ★ everyone wants you - p. jongseong

summary: dating a rockstar means sharing him with the world, but when his songs start feeling more intimate than his touch you start to wonder - if everyone wants him, what's left for you? ──────── rockstar! jay x reader || sfw, angst no comfort ... idk what else to say, it's just unresolved angst i was in a mood ok || w/c: 1k

a/n: haven't been able to stop listeining to this song (jeff buckley ilu) and thinking about jay with this concept ... im so obsessed with rockstar jay i fear ...... hope u guys like it too!!

Being with Jay had always meant being his muse.

After all, it was the thing that had first drawn you to him - there was something so alluring about his artistry, about the way he poured his whole soul into his music, like it was his lifeline. It didn't take long for you to learn that he didn't reserve this kind of attention solely for his guitars, though. Rather, it was something innate to his very being, in the way he loved and expressed that love.

And the very first time you heard him sing a lyric you knew was written about you, for you, you understood it instantly.

It was a feeling like no other, being buried deep within a screaming crowd begging for his attention, knowing his eyes were only for you. And when he sang, he did so with so much passion it sounded like it hurt him just to bear it. Your heart soared and wrenched all in one moment at the sight of him up on stage and at the feeling of being so seen.

Quickly, your likeness found its way into his lyrics, his melodies, into the very core of what kept him motivated to keep plucking at his guitar strings until his fingers ached. There was something charmingly freeing about how music was his language of love, and you'd learnt to appreciate it in the way he'd offer you the other bud of his earphone, drum beats with his fingers on your bare thigh, and scribble lyrics onto napkins when you were out at dinner. It amazed you just how lost he got within his own devotion, the way he would let himself get swept up by it, staying in his studio for hours on end, working on songs until they were perfect.

And you were okay with it, because you knew at the end of the night, once he was done giving himself to his craft, he'd come home to you and give himself to you. He'd find his way into your open arms and let you softly kiss the tips of his sore fingers, as if breathing life back into them one by one. There was pride to be had in being his sanctuary and his muse, in being the thing that pushed him to keep working endlessly, tirelessly, bleeding into every line and note - and the same thing that tended to him when it became too much.

But lately that pride had faded.

It felt selfish even to think it. How could you resent such a privilege, to be loved in such a way and be given the chance to live on through his music? But lately, it felt like you lived more in the lines he wrote than in his life.

Sometimes when he came home, it felt empty, even if you were laying beside him in bed, he'd turn around silently, a subtle iciness in his movements you couldn't remember ever seeing before. The first night, you brushed it off, but when it became more regular for him to push past you than to even acknowledge you, you knew something was wrong.

It wasn't your first reaction to be angry, or upset - in fact, your only feeling at all was confusion. It didn't make sense. How could he go from forming melodies about being unable to live without you, your voice, your touch - to pushing you aside in the very same night? You tried your best to remedy this gap between how he spoke about you and how he acted, tried your best to make up excuses in your head, but nothing was enough to soothe the ache that had already begun to settle in your heart.

And in due time, his messages became shorter, the calls less frequent - like he was saving his words, his time, for his music, even if it meant you lost some of it too. He wrote more than he spoke to you, composed more than he called, loved you through lyrics more than through touch. He still came home to you each night, but not in the same way he used to. He'd lie beside you, silent, not really fully there - like he was already busy thinking up his next hit.

And when he did touch you, a cold hand carelessly dragging itself along your jaw, steady gaze on yours - it was like he was studying you more than he was loving you. His hands stayed on your hips, in your hair, but it seemed like you were nothing more than a plastic toy he was describing rather than a real person he was putting in effort to understand.

It hurt, in a silent, stinging way that got stronger with each absence, with each day that passed by in which you could feel something missing between the two of you. It was difficult not to blame yourself, not to try to make up reasons or excuses for his behaviour, but as hard as you tried, you just couldn't make sense of it.

So you stayed, because leaving felt too loud, too ugly, too much like giving up on this, on him. You endured the silent nights, the ghosts of touches, holding onto the hope that maybe someday you might outlive whatever was happening - someday he might look at you and see the person behind his lyrics.

And some nights he'd crawl into bed beside you and as he drifted off, you'd feel a slight tug on your shirt, as if he was, by instinct or habit, pulling you back to his. And you'd let him, pulling him into your arms as you heard his breathing steady, staring at the ceiling and wonder just how long love could survive like this.

Not breaking, just bending, a little more each day.

[blossomjke]

Imagine Jay taking care of you while you being on your period with those massive pain

YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU ` pjs

엔하이픈 ✮ pjs x f!reader

genre: domestic | comfort | fluff | skinship | kissing | est. relationship

proofread by: @redletterrr

Note: I hope you like it! Thank you for your request :)

You're an amazing person.

A very humble and understanding one at that.

But when the dreadful week of the month came, a.k.a menstruation week; you, yes you, were a whole new person.

You felt overwhelmed at anything really, your mood swings were like a chameleon changing colours and oh the cramps. The damn cramps were to blame!

Now, it was one of those afternoons where you felt like the universe was cursing at you.

A hot bag in your grasp, your hair dishevelled, a blanket draped over you.

There you were! Lying on your sofa like a dying victorian child while some emotional heart-wrenching series played on your television.

Your cramps were killing you, really. Times when you questioned why periods even existed (you felt dumb but who tf cares).

Normally, you'd have a whole, not-chatgpt-ed, logical explanation as to why being a woman was wonderful, but now? Oh, you'd rather be a jellyfish.

You scrunched your face, groaning as the ache spread across your lower abdomen. Life was not life-ing at the moment.

"I'm home!" A voice you were dying to hear echoed through the halls.

He stepped in, eyeing you for a good 3 seconds.

"Jayyyy." You smiled weakly, making grabby hands at him.

He grinned, immediately making his way to you, gently pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your temple.

"I got you some chamomile tea and a restock of dark chocolate. What would you prefer right now?" He asked after pulling away a little, his fingers reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Of course, he remembered it was your menstruation week.

Loving you felt so natural to Jay. In fact, he made it his mission to be your man, only yours. Wholly yours. If possible, eternally yours.

He knew everything about you. He looked at you like you were the moon in his sky, the peanut butter to his jelly sandwich and all of those other cutesy, silly stuff. Because you were.

You were his everything.

"Chocolate, please." You mumbled, leaning into his touch, his warmth already making you feel better.

"But for that, you need to let go of me first." He chuckled, finding your attempt to cling onto him, really cute.

"Nooo I'll die." You whined, nuzzling deeper into his neck.

Jay's smile only grew wider, his hand moving up and down your back soothingly.

"Sweetheart, I promise I'll be quick." He cooed.

You eventually let him go, turning back to the television, realizing the episode was almost ending.

You switched it off, the pain in your abdomen increasing due to your movements as you winced.

Jay was back not even a minute later, a chocolate bar, a pain killer, and water in his clasp, also a dark small bottle you couldn't recognise at the moment.

"Does it hurt too much?" He asked, placing the chocolate on the table as he sat beside you.

You slowly nodded, taking the pill from his grasp as he handed you the water as well.

"Lay down."

He caressed your head before taking back the empty glass and helping you shift on the sofa, your head resting on the armrest.

"Do you want me to give you a massage?" He asked, his eyes full of warmth and concern.

"You must be tired, though." You looked back at him.

"Never too tired to be at your service, m'lady." He winked, making you grin like an idiot.

Your mood instantly lit up as you nodded, letting him proceed.

He pulled down the blanket till your thighs, your cinnamoroll pyjamas causing a laugh to escape his lips.

"God, you're so cute." He shook his head before helping you lift your t-shirt halfway.

He then opened the dark small bottle of lavender oil, taking drops of it onto his palm before rubbing his hands together.

"You prepared for this?"

"More than you think, my love." He placed his warm hands over your lower belly.

His hands were skilful, his fingers applying gentle compression at all the stiff muscles around your hips and waist.

A quiet sigh bloomed from your lips, watching him as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his eyes blinking more frequently than usual and his lips in a pout.

Your heart ached in pure adoration.

Before you met Jay, the idea of your lover giving you a massage when you were in pain never crossed your mind.

Your emotions got to you as you felt a little overwhelmed.

"You know I love you." Your voice cracked.

Jay immediately looked up at you, his eyes widening as he gave you a slightly confused smile.

"Where's this coming from?"

"I....I'm just grateful I have you. And I wanna express my love to you." You pursed your lips together, feeling a little shy.

He moved his thumbs up and down your hips in an oval-like motion, his smile only growing wider.

"Is this your way to return the favour?" He asked.

"Oh, umm-"

"I'm just kidding, my love." He chuckled.

"I hope you know I'd do anything to make you feel better. I take care of you because I love you. Not because it's a favour. It never will be." He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on your waist, caressing the area with his fingers one more time before pulling down your t-shirt.

He found you all teary when he came back after washing his hands.

"What's wrong? Has the pain not eased up?" He asked, taking a seat beside you again.

You shook your head, opening your arms as you pulled him into your embrace.

"These are happy tears, Jay." You rested your chin on his shoulder as you felt him relax.

He knew you were getting emotional, and it was completely normal. In fact, he couldn't help but get the urge to protect you even more.

"Thank you." You whispered, feeling his strong arms wrap around you in a gentle manner.

He pulled away to cup your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

"Anything for you, my love."

The two of you then spent the rest of the evening in each other's arms, talking about random things and enjoying the dark chocolate that Jay had bought for you.

Making you slowly forget about your cramps as they begin to subside.

note: requests are open! feel free to drop in your ideas :)

[jaymentions]

doom room | 박종성

📬 Archived Letters #05 — “doom room” ╰┈➤ To the ones who care a little too much, stress a little too often, and love a little too quietly—this is for you.

pairings. ABM!park jongseong x ABM!reader

w.c. 2.2k

soundtracks. pasilyo by sunkissed lola, i like me better by lauv, and ttyl by loosemeble.

author's note. for my best officer companion this is for you hehe. Thank you for keeping me sane in our disastrous class (..◜ᴗ◝..)

shs masterlist.

Another Day in Doom Room 144.

I sighed loudly this time, for the third time in the last ten minutes while staring at the pile of class dues that had yet to be submitted. My eyes flicked up to the whiteboard where someone, bless their soul, had written:

“Deadline: Friday. Submit to Treasurer!!”

Except our treasurer was one of the core members organizing the Foundation Day booth, and I hadn’t seen her since Tuesday.

I wasn't even a class officer. And yet here I was, arms crossed and forehead in a permanent crease, like a mom of twenty-eight.

"Hey, the other haven't paid yet," my seatmate whispered, dropping the crumpled list of unpaid names on my desk.

"Of course," I muttered. "Why would they even pay in time? What are the announcements for?"

If there was one thing you should know about St. Benedict a.k.a Room 144—it was cursed. I always said that. Anything with a "4" in it twice? Bad luck. Triple bad luck if you count the four problem students who had never shown up to class funds day once.

My phone vibrated.

ABM ST. BENEDICT GC '23-'24 Pres: 11:07 AM Guys, sorry! I can't collect funds and merch collection. Anyone free?

I sighed again, cracking my knuckles.

“No one’s going to do it, so I guess it’s me again,” I said, standing up. My seatmate gave me a half-hearted thumbs-up while munching on Bread Pan.

Right as I was gathering the class fund envelope from the desk drawer, the classroom door creaked open—and he walked in.

Park Jongseong.

Also known as Jay.

Also known as the guy every girl in ABM secretly has a crush on. Tall. Always neat in his uniform. A voice that sounded like warm caramel. A smile that made you question your life choices. He was also the Auditor of the Student Council, which meant he was the enemy when it came to fund deadlines—but also, the savior if no one else was around to help.

Jay looked around the classroom, clipboard in hand, smile soft. “Hi, good afternoon. Just here to collect funds for the Foundation Day event.”

He was wearing his usual white ID lanyard and a slightly wrinkled polo, probably from going around under the 1 PM sun. Still looked unfairly good, though.

I blinked. “Wait, there’s another payment?”

Jay’s smile twitched.

I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“W-What?! There’s another fee? That wasn’t even announced! Our president didn’t inform us at all?!” I blurted out, too stressed to filter my words.

Jay chuckled under his breath. And then he smiled.

Not just a normal smile.

A full-on dimples-out, eyes-soft, lips-curved-like-he’s-holding-back-laughter kind of smile.

And I wanted to throw my desk across the room.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still grinning. “You just looked really… passionate about it.”

“Passionate?” I squinted at him. “This isn’t passion. This is chronic stress.”

He laughed—laughed. Like he was actually enjoying this. Enjoying my pain. Enjoying my life falling apart because my classmates couldn’t hand over twenty pesos on time.

“You’re not even a class officer, right?” he asked, scribbling something on his clipboard.

“No, but it sure feels like it,” I muttered.

Jay tilted his head. “So why are you the one panicking?”

I opened my mouth.

Paused.

Realized I didn’t have a solid answer. Because I cared too much? Because no one else would do it? Because Room 144 was three missed payments away from total embarrassment?

“Because no one else is!” I said dramatically. “If I don’t do it, then no one will.”

He smiled again, softer this time. “That’s admirable.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me flushed.

“What’s the amount?” I asked.

“Fifty,” he said. “But that’s optional if you want the merch. It’s only thirty if it’s just for the booth.”

I reached into the envelope and started counting the bills I had collected so far. Jay leaned a little closer to watch, and suddenly I was very aware of his cologne—clean, subtle, like fresh laundry and soap.

Too close.

I subtly leaned back and cleared my throat.

“How many students submitted?” he asked, eyes scanning the list.

“Nineteen,” I said. “Out of twenty-eight.”

Jay made a face. “That’s actually not bad. Other sections only had ten.”

I shrugged, pretending not to feel victorious. “I threatened them with public humiliation in the class group chat.”

Jay chuckled again. “Remind me never to mess with you.”

“Good plan.”

Before he could say more, a loud thump echoed in the hallway.

Jay turned just in time to catch the blur that was Jake sprinting past the door, a stack of printed flyers in hand.

“BRO, THANKS!” Jake shouted mid-run, dapping Jay quickly before disappearing into another room.

Jay blinked, unfazed. “He always does that.”

“You good?” I asked, blinking after Jake’s trail.

Jay smiled again. “I think he runs on caffeine and pure chaos.”

I snorted. “Sounds about right.”

We stood in an oddly comfortable silence for a second, and I noticed how Jay’s thumb tapped rhythmically against the side of his clipboard something he probably didn’t even notice.

"Do you want help collecting from the rest of the rooms?" he asked suddenly.

I blinked. "You have time?"

Jay checked his phone. “Fifteen minutes ‘til my next meeting. That’s enough time to hit 146 and 143 with you.”

Was it bad that my heart skipped?

"Sure," I said, trying to act like I wasn’t suddenly hyperaware of everything—the way his steps matched mine when we walked, how he held the envelope carefully like it was made of glass, or how he’d open doors slightly ahead of me, just enough to let me go first without making a show of it.

Room 146 was surprisingly cooperative. The officers had already gathered their dues, and all Jay had to do was sign off.

Room 143… not so much.

The officers weren’t inside, and most students just blinked when we asked about the fund.

Jay gave me a look.

I gave him a look back.

“Do I have permission to go scary mode?” I whispered.

He smirked. “I’d love to see it.”

So I did. I may have pulled a chair over and stood on it, dramatically waving the list of unpaid names.

“If you don’t want to pay, just say that,” I said sweetly. “But don’t come crying when the merch runs out.”

Jay leaned against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

Eventually, we walked out with a few more crumpled bills and the kind of victory that made me want to take a nap.

“Are all your days like this?” Jay asked as we made our way down the stairs.

“Only the cursed ones,” I said. “So, every day.”

Jay nodded seriously. “I’m impressed.”

I peeked at him. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” he said, chuckling. “But you… you’re kind in a different way.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

He stopped at the base of the stairs and looked at me. “You care. Even when it’s hard. Even when no one asks you to.”

My throat went dry for a second. “…And you noticed that?”

He smiled, softer this time. “Hard not to.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I looked down at the envelope in my hands. “Well. You’re not bad either. For someone who’s technically the villain in every class fund drama.”

He laughed. “Villain? Ouch.”

“Sorry. Someone has to be the antagonist.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind. As long as I’m the kind of antagonist who helps the heroine when she’s too tired to keep going.”

My heart did that stupid fluttering thing again.

We reached the ABM hallway again, and as we approached Room 144, I could hear the faint buzz of my classmates inside. Jay turned to me before I could open the door.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Thanks for letting me help.”

I looked up at him. “Thanks for showing up.”

His smile was brighter this time. “I think I’ll keep showing up, if that’s okay.”

My breath caught.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “That’s more than okay.”

And just as I pushed open the door, the noise of Room 144 rushing back into my ears, I thought—

Maybe today wasn’t another cursed day in Doom Room 144.

Maybe it was the start of something else.

ABM HALLWAY — THURSDAY By Thursday, I had officially morphed into a human bulletin board.

Posters under my arm. Tape dispenser hanging off my wrist. Someone even asked if I worked in logistics.

I didn’t. But at this point? I might as well have been hired.

I was pacing the third-floor hallway, scanning the walls for clear spots, when I felt a poster slip free from the stack in my arms. I lunged to catch it—missed—and braced for the paper to flutter to the ground—

But it didn’t.

A hand caught it before it touched the floor.

“I should start charging every time I save you from near-tragedy,” said a familiar voice.

I looked up—and of course it was him.

Jay.

White ID lanyard, sleeves slightly rolled, hair a little mussed from the wind coming through the open stairwell. The hallway light hit his cheekbones just so, and I hated that I noticed.

“That wasn’t a tragedy,” I mumbled, grabbing the poster from his hand. “It was a mild inconvenience at best.”

“Mm,” he nodded solemnly. “And yet, here I am. Your knight in cotton polo.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.”

Jay shrugged, unbothered. “And yet, here you are. Still talking to me.”

Touché.

“Shouldn’t you be auditing someone’s soul right now?” I asked, shifting the posters in my arms.

“I already did,” he replied. “And now I’m here. Fate, maybe?”

“More like poor timing.”

Jay tilted his head. “Or… perfect timing.”

I stared at him. “You really just say things like that, huh?”

“What?”

“Like it’s normal. Like it’s not illegal to be that smooth at 2 PM.”

Jay smiled, and for the first time, it wasn’t the teasing kind.

It was the kind you didn’t see often—the one that curled just a little at the corners like it was only meant for you. A smile that said he was paying attention even when you weren’t looking.

He stepped closer. Not too close, but enough that his voice dropped just slightly.

“You look tired,” he said.

I blinked. “Wow. Thanks.”

“No, I mean—you’re tired, but you still showed up. Again,” he said quietly. “It’s like… every time something needs to be done, you’re already doing it.”

I glanced away. “It’s not like anyone else will.”

Jay was quiet for a beat. “But who shows up for you?”

The question caught me off-guard.

I didn’t have an answer. I looked down at the posters in my arms because I suddenly couldn’t hold eye contact.

Jay took a breath. “I think I want to try.”

That made me look up.

“What?”

“I want to show up. For you.”

I blinked. “Jay—”

“Not as the Auditor. Not as the guy who collects money and signs papers,” he said. “Just… as me.”

I didn’t say anything.

Mostly because I couldn’t.

Jay smiled again—this time smaller, more hesitant. “Sorry. I don’t mean to overload you in the middle of hallway errands.”

“You’re not,” I said quickly.

He glanced down at the posters. “You’re still on duty?”

I nodded.

Jay reached out and took half the stack from my arms like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’ll help,” he said, already starting to walk toward the bulletin boards.

I stood there for a moment before following him, still processing everything.

As we moved down the hall, taping up posters in a quiet rhythm, he spoke again—so casually it made my heart stutter.

“You know…” He tilted his head, eyes still focused on smoothing a corner of the poster. “I used to think Room 144 was cursed too.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Too much drama. Too many headaches. I used to avoid collecting from there.”

“Wow,” I scoffed. “Thanks.”

He chuckled. “But lately… I think I’ve been making excuses to stop by.”

I turned slowly to face him.

His eyes met mine.

And for the first time since this whole mess of class dues and hallway chases started, I saw it—undeniable and unfiltered.

That spark.

That look.

That heartbeat you feel in your throat instead of your chest.

He smiled, but it was quieter this time. No teasing. No flirty remarks.

Just truth.

“I think Room 144 might be my favorite room now.”

I opened my mouth. And nothing came out.

“Jay…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re dangerous,” I whispered.

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because I think I might actually start looking forward to fund collections now.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Then I’m doing something right.”

And then, without warning, Jay took the last poster, folded it neatly, and slid it into my hands.

“I don’t think we need to put this one up,” he said.

“Why?”

He looked me dead in the eye and said—

“Because I’m already all in.”

And just like that—he turned around and walked away, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just left my heart lying there on the third floor, buzzing louder than the school bell.

Room 144 may have been cursed.

But for once.

I didn’t mind the chaos. Not if it meant he would keep walking in.

🏎️ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ shs masterlist. — from the drawer of stories I never meant to share. © July 2025

[seungsoftly]

ᥫ᭡ strand by strand ⚘.

۶ৎ pairing: park jongseong x fem. reader ۶ৎ genre: shortfic/fluff ۶ৎ wc: 1.37k ۶ৎ warnings: established relationship, use of petnames, slight description of undressing and showering, implied rough day at work for y/n, mentions of bad exes, they're so in love it's gross

۶ৎ synopsis: your boyfriend has developed somewhat of a love of doing your hair. he'll brush it, braid it, or just run his fingers through it if that's what you want. somehow that calming feeling of your boyfriend's fingers running along your scalp is all you need to know that you're at home, with him.

livi's note ʚɞ we're finally back with another fic! sorry it took me so long to get this done, but i'm glad to have it out for you guys! i can't help but think jay would totally do something like this for his girl, after all, he seems like a perfect boyfriend. hope you enjoy reading!

۶ৎ taglist: @simjaexy

“hey baby!” jay chimed as you walked through the door of your shared apartment, keys jangling as you yanked them out of the door frustratedly. his cheerful attitude upon your welcome quickly shifted once he realized that you’d clearly had a bad day at work. he knew how you could get on those days that just didn’t go so well, and acting so bright and happy could just end up making things worse.

once your body realized that you were indeed back in the safe space that your apartment was, it almost felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, moving to your feet, which were dragging heavily across the floor as you moved to hang up your keys and work bag. an exhausted groan came out of you next, eyes drooping as all of your energy had just been depleted to the very bone after today’s shift.

“rough day?” jay’s eyes glowed with that soft empathy that he carried for you, cherishing the fact that you chose to work this hard for the two of you even if he could be the sole provider. he’d give anything to be the one working to keep you happy and off your feet, eliminating the days that the burdens you carried at work got just a little too much for you entirely.

“yeah,” you finally sighed, letting your head drop into that comforting space between his neck and shoulder, just breathing in and enjoying the smell of him. jay smelled like home to you. the home that always comforted you after a tough day, that was always there for you. and you loved him for it.

jay’s hand smoothed over your hair, flattening the few strands that had gone wild in the wind during your walk home from the subway station. “why don’t you go shower the day off and i’ll braid your hair after you get out, sweetheart.” his light hum was soothing as you stayed  in the comfort of his arms, you not wanting to leave but forcing yourself to after a couple more long moments.

it felt almost like you were shedding an old layer of skin as you stripped out of your work clothes, tossing them into the hamper on your way into the shower. you honestly thought you were about to daze off from exhaustion a few times while you scrubbed the day off yourself, but you kept yourself awake with the thoughts of that incredible feeling whenever jay would run his hands through your hair.

for someone who grew up an only child, he could braid hair suspiciously well. you’d inquired deeply into this skill when it was discovered within the first few months of you two dating, grilling jay about whether or not he’d learned this for other girls. his response had been, “no baby, i learned this just for you. neither of my exes would even let me anywhere near their hair.”

that had been a satisfying enough answer for you. first it reassured you about the worries that had been caused by your boyfriend’s excellent braiding skills and then when you got over the jealousy and anxiety, the mere thought behind it melted your heart. he’d learned how to braid hair for you and only you.

you loved that about jay. he was always thinking of you and what he could do for you. you just liked to say he kept thinking up ways to make you fall in love with him even more. no ex of yours had even made you feel a fraction as loved as jay did.

“jongie!” you called from the bathroom, peeking through the open door. “do you want me to dry my hair before you braid it?”

it was almost as if he was hovering right beside the door, because the moment you finished your question, he was gently knocking. “no, it’s okay sweetheart, i’ll dry it for you and then braid it.”

“really?” you asked, touched that he’d offered to do it for you.

“of course, baby. you’ve had a long day and i know it cheers you up.” he smiled warmly at you, softly gazing right into your eyes for a moment before reaching over you to plug in the hair dryer.

jay worked carefully, combing through sections of your hair as he aimed the warm stream of air at the drying strands while carefully avoiding your scalp so the hair dryer wouldn’t burn you. you trusted him not to. right now all you could do was close your eyes and savor the feeling of gently-calloused hands running through your hair.

it must have been a good fifteen minutes before your hair was fully dry, but it felt like mere seconds to you before jay’s hands receded from your hair and the monotonous sound of the hair dryer cut off, your boyfriend unplugging it and winding the cord around it before placing it back in the drawer that you kept it in.

while he was putting that away, jay also took the time to grab the items that he’d need to braid your hair. a couple of little elastics were plucked out of the little pouch you kept them in along with both your parting comb and hairbrush. now the two of you could move to a more comfortable spot.

you followed jay out of the bathroom into the living room, smiling sweetly at him and taking a seat on the floor in front of the ottoman when your boyfriend gestured to it with a gentle wave of his hand. now came your favorite part of all this, what made you forget about everything else that had gone wrong that day.

he started by brushing through your hair gently, starting at the ends like he’d learned from watching so many of those tutorials on how to brush a girl’s hair and then braid it. once those strands were all brushed through, he went to making bigger strokes through your hair, starting at your scalp now but holding your head gently to prevent the brush from pulling at any of your hair too hard.

the soft sound of the bristles running against your hair quelled after a few passes when jay felt that all of your hair had been brushed through, setting the brush next to him on the ottoman as he reached for the parting comb. it was run gently from the bridge of your nose down the middle of your hair, jay lightly flicking a few errant strands back to the correct side of your part with the comb once he was done.

fingers then began to run through your hair once more, making your eyes close in relaxation and bliss as jay sectioned off a little piece at the front of either side of your part, using that to start the dutch braids that he usually did for you. his fingers nimbly twisted strands underneath each other, working in little strands of hair with each pass that one of the three main pieces did.

jay worked quickly, his fingers now more used to doing this for you after several nights like this before. soon he was tying off the first braid with one of those elastics and beginning on the braid for the other side of your head, the soft pads of his fingers seeming to fly through it.

“sweetheart, i’m done,” he touched your shoulder gently, waking you from the little cloud that you’d floated off into at the first touch of his fingers on your scalp. that feeling of him carding through your locks never failed to send you into a daze, that was for sure.

“thank you,” came your sleepy mumble of gratitude, hands slowly rising up to the top of your head to feel your boyfriend’s hard work. perfect as always, with not a strand of hair out of place. it was at the perfect tightness too, not where you felt like your scalp was going to rip out or where you thought it could fall apart at any second. “you did perfect jongie.”

he chuckled, smiling at your tired expression. “i live to serve my love. now let’s get you to bed. it’s been a long day.”

divider credits to @cursed-carmine

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[sundives]

My kink is karma ✶ pjs.

If karma's real, hope it's your turn.

Summary: You've wished nothing but bad things to your ex-best friend after she ruined your life by stealing your boyfriend and having your friend group take her side. And it looks like the gods have listened to your prayers when you were approached by Park Jongseong — your ex-best friend's first love.

You believed that bad karma will eventually get her but when Jay was persistent on dating you, you couldn’t help but to plot a petty revenge on your ex-best friend and the worst thing that you can do? Date (and maybe fuck) the guy that she longs for.

✰ Song inspiration: My kink is karma - Chappell Roan, Lacy - Olivia Rodrigo, The grudge - Olivia Rodrigo

✰ Word Count: 21.7k

✰ Tags: Revenge, strangers to lovers, man yearning and slow-burn pining!!! Fluff, a bit of angst, smut, college settings, reader is petty but we all are! reader can also be confusing but let her be, she also smokes for like one scene, Jay is genuine (and a down bad loser), he’s also in a band. Yunjin and Jake as your roommates (and they’re so parents-coded for reader)! Mentions of Enhypen members! <3 Yeonjun as your ex-boyfriend lmao. Oc as your ex-best friend (and so are other minor characters.)

✰ CW: Smut! Plot with little porn, oral (f receiving) cowgirl, a bit submissive Jay and that’s sexy haha, unprotected sex (pls don’t do it) petnames (baby, pretty girl) short aftercare because reader cried after sex. Idk I might have missed other stuff.

✰ Asul's Note: I know that my song inspirations are about sapphic relationships but this plot just went into my mind and i was just,,, you know what, i want to write that. So this is a huge brain rot for me, and just word vomits all pieced together. (Inspired by real life events tbh) Also it’s my first time writing smut so don’t judge. I know it’s shitty too. Other than that, just think of their university as a prestigious university that requires even college students to wear uniforms.

This is my first Enhypen fanfic, hope you guys like it! <3

You can check the other member's stories here: Heeseung | Jake | Sunghoon | Jungwon

-

The night club was full by the time the clock struck 1 despite being a Thursday night. Group of friends mostly filled the available tables and couch of the knit-tight club. The speaker’s blasting throughout the four corners with the dj playing some edm music.

It was loud, sweaty, and hot. People your age were dancing and singing along some 2010s pop song as their sweaty bodies hyped the dance floor — completely contrasting you. 

You were wearing a black denim pants and a halter top, sitting legs-crossed on the high stool by the bartender’s counter. You've been sitting there since 11 in the evening and yet, you’re still halfway on your bottle of beer. 

Clubs aren’t always your go-to place, but you felt the urge to celebrate small wins for things that happened today. A small smirk forming on your face as you recall the afternoon scene. 

Your ex-best friend, Yoomi lost her scholarship. What a great way to start your senior year in college. You think. On the first day of class, Yoomi let the tears fall out of her eyes as your other ‘friends’ gathered around to comfort her. Yoomi was sobbing hard as she bore the news on why she was crying. 

She was so loud. It was clear that she wanted to gain sympathy from your other classmates. She lost her scholarship because her gpa last academic year didn’t make it to the cutout. That is because of that one professor who gives low grades. You got a low grade from that professor too but you didn’t mind because it was kinda decent but for Yoomi? It’s the end of her world. 

Yoomi was crying her heart out, sharing that she tried telling the professor that it’ll ruin her goal of achieving summa cum laude this graduation but failed to appease his empathy. You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes because of her words. Your roommate, Yunjin noticed it and could only laugh lightly because you didn’t hide the disgusted look on your face. 

“She deserves it,” you commented while you and Yunjin were on your way back to your dorm. 

“I get you,” Yunjin sympathized. “I really don’t get why everyone likes her. She thinks she’s smart and quirky but the truth is, she’s cringey and pathetic.”

“People are stupid, and are on the same level as Yoomi,” you let out a sigh, trying to erase Yoomi out of your head. 

You and Yoomi instantly clicked on the first day of your freshman year. Both coming from a different town, you two found solace with each other. You two shared the same likes and dislikes, fangirled over anime and would send edit videos on tiktok.

Yoomi was talkative and friendly. Soon, your duo became a friend group who studied together and ranted over crazy tasks and strict professors. Your friend group made you adjust well during freshman year and you were happy that you found a safe space while being away from your family. 

College also became a place for you to try dating, and maybe, find a decent guy that you’ll commit a serious relationship with. During your freshman year, you matched with Yeonjun on a dating app and after a few dates, you two became official. 

You and Yeonjun dated throughout college. It was stable and healthy, and everyone envied your relationship. Yeonjun’s close with your friends and so are you with his friends. For Yoomi, she didn’t lose a friend even though you had a boyfriend. Hell, you were so happy that the two of them are close and bear no awkward signs. 

But that’s where you should’ve seen the signs. Yoomi has always been touchy with Yeonjun, but that’s just how she was with your other male friends. That’s why you didn’t want to put malice on Yoomi — which was your biggest mistake. 

Then came junior year. In a glimpse, Yeonjun became cold to you. Telling you that he’s busy and he couldn’t meet you. You trusted him that he’s just busy, because so were you. Junior year was hectic so you never prioritise your relationship. You were confident with your relationship with him.

So it hit you like a truck when you went to Yeonjun’s dorm to surprise him — only to see Yoomi with him. That’s when it sinked in to you all the times that both of them turn down your study dates, they’re seeing each other behind your back. 

You caught them in the act. Yoomi was on top of Yeonjun, half-naked at your sight. You didn’t miss the way Yoomi smirked, which made you leave the scene. Yeonjun attempted to go after you but you’ve made up your mind. That night, you broke up with Yeonjun and completely cut Yoomi off. 

Your group of friends heard about it, but you didn’t feel a single comfort from them. You were told that “whatever fight you and Yoomi had, they don’t want to pick a side.” and it’s obvious that they’re on Yoomi’s side.

As the days continued, you felt left out by your friend group while Yoomi became center of the attention, that is why the remaining months of your junior year, you only had your roommates by your side 

Yoomi didn’t even wait for a month to hard-launched her relationship with Yeonjun. You found it pathetic of her but you didn’t care anymore. All the tears you’ve cried turned into a loathing feeling for Yoomi, and there’s not a single day that you wish for her downfall.  

It seems like karma has been hearing your prayers. Yoomi’s scholarship is one of the reasons why she can study in a prestigious university like Decelis University, and losing it just in time for senior year can be painful. But you’re overjoyed by the news, wishing that it’ll get worse like her being unable to finish college. You couldn’t help but to lightly chuckle as you took another sip from your beer, chugging it down until its last drop. 

“Hey,” your thoughts trailed off when you picked-up a masculine voice. You turned to your right to see a guy around your age standing beside you. He’s leaning against the counter with a bottle of beer in his hand. He’s hot with his slicked-back hair, wearing a cotton polo shirt tucked-in snuggly in his cotton pants — contrasting all the streetwear-dressed guys in the club. 

“Hi,” you offered a smile, mentally preparing yourself to reject him. You didn’t go to the club to be picked-up by a stranger after all. 

“You’re alone?” he asked and you only laughed. Of course. That's the first thing a guy would ask. 

“Do you see me talking to someone?” you raised an eyebrow, and that made him chuckle. 

“Well, you wouldn’t mind me accompanying you?” he offered, stretching his hand. “I’m Jay.” 

You stopped your tracks, blinking to sink in his name. Jay. That name sounds so familiar but you couldn’t point a finger about it. 

“Jay,” you breathe. “You go to Decelis University?”

He seems to be surprised by your question. “Yeah, you probably heard of Arcanum? I’m their electric guitarist.”

Fuck. You cursed internally, eyes turning wide. Park Jongseong. Jay. Studies Marketing and Advertising. Electric guitarist of Decelis University’s university band, Arcanum. 

Jay. Your ex-best friend Yoomi’s first love. They go to the same school back in her hometown. Her long-time crush who she followed to Decelis University just to have a chance with him. The guy who’s band gig she attends wherever it is. The guy who made Yoomi hyperventilate when Jay glanced at her for a split second.

And maybe the reason why you didn’t suspect Yoomi to take a liking to Yeonjun is because her goal has always been Jay. 

Jay, who seems to be Yoomi’s universe, is standing in front of you, and casually flirting with you — something that Yoomi never had the chance to do. 

It was as if karma really is doing god’s work. All of Yoomi’s desperate attempts to be noticed by Jay didn’t stand a chance the moment Jay approached you first. The bulb inside your brain suddenly lightens up and suddenly, a plan is circulating in your mind.

“So you’re the electric guitarist,” you smiled. “I admit, your solo performance during the year-end concert was hot.” 

“You think I’m hot?” he asked amusingly.

“Don’t flatter yourself Jay,” you laughed. “You’ll be much hotter if you buy me another bottle of beer though.” 

“If that’s the only thing that can continue this conversation, I’ll be happy to.”

Gotcha. You watched as Jay called out the bartender to order another bottle of beer for you. How you managed to do it so easy was probably karma’s doing and you’re thanking the heavens for siding on you. 

As the night deepens, you and Jay shared an endless conversation about you two. Jumping from one topic to another, and you didn’t miss the subtle flirty remarks he would throw at any chance he could. It didn’t even strike you that the longer your talks were, the less people had become inside the club. 

“It’s almost four,” Jay said. “I think they’re just waiting for us to leave.”

You scanned the whole club and there’s only a few people around. You only had three bottles of beer that night and it was enough for you. You don’t even feel a hint of tipsiness in your system, that’s why you glanced at Jay and smiled,

“I think that’s our cue then,” you said, grabbing your purse and fishing out your wallet when Jay had already handed over his card. 

“So, am I hotter now that I bought you a bottle of beer?” he jokes. 

“You sound like you want some affirmations from me,” you smirked. 

“I’ll be happy to hear affirmations from a pretty girl like you.”

That made you chuckle. “Sure Jay, thanks for the drinks.” you jumped out from the high stool when Jay tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not really the type to do this but,” Jay started, and you can sense a hint of hesitation in his tone. “But do you wanna go to my place?”

You stared at him for a few seconds. “Sorry, I’m not that type of girl.”

“It’s okay, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,” he quickly said, and you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Most guys will be persistent to take a girl home, but Jay looks away from you embarrassed. 

“I didn’t, don’t worry,” you gave him a smile. You lean towards him, tiptoe-ing to land a kiss on his cheeks. 

“Maybe take me on a date or two, then I can go to your place,” you whispered to his left ear. 

You gave him a wave before you turned around and started walking away when you heard Jay call out your name again.

“Then, when can I see you again!?” he asked. 

You turned around and only smiled at him, “you go to Decelis right? If we bumped into each other, then maybe that’s fate’s way of telling me to go on a date with you.”

You didn’t even let him say another word. You probably have left him speechless as you walked out of the club. The cold air welcomed you as you walked your way towards your car. 

As you sat in the driver’s seat, that’s when you let out a loud laugh that you’ve been holding back throughout the night. Slapping your steering wheel harshly as you laugh until the air in your lungs weakens you.

Catching your breath, you leaned against your seat as you sinked in your mind that you spent the night flirting with Jay — and if you were being petty, you would’ve accepted his invitation. 

Sure it was inviting but short. If you would’ve slept with Jay, that’s just it. You’re just the girl that banged her ex-best friend’s long-time crush and for you, it’s a bit shallow to get back to Yoomi. You wanted her to suffer. To be hurt slowly just like what she did to you. That’s why you’re curating a perfect revenge plan — get back to her by dating the guy that she could never have. 

And Park Jongseong? Well, he’s just the perfect tool for your revenge. But first, you just have to make sure that your plan is actually a sign from the gods themselves. And the only way to find out is if you ever encounter Jay again. 

-

They say that a university is big if you’re looking for someone, and small if you’re avoiding someone. 

If they ask you which one is you, neither of them. You couldn’t avoid Yoomi since she’s your classmate and you curse Decelis’ blocked section policy for letting you see her and your friend group everyday.

You’re not looking for someone too. And if that someone is named Park Jongseong, then yes, you’re definitely not looking for someone. It’s been two weeks since your encounter with Jay and you’ve given up easily. Now, you’re just praying for karma to do all the work.

It was past five in the afternoon. Your last class just ended and your roommates are waiting for you at a Pho stall outside the university for dinner. 

You walked your way towards the university’s nearest exit. The sky slowly turns into shades of purple and deep orange, the sun is about to set and you can feel the cool breeze. You hum lightly as you listen to your music on the way. 

That’s when you felt a light tap on your shoulder, startling you as you turned around and behold —

“Found you,” he teased.

It was obvious in your eyes that you were surprised to see him. Removing your earphones while processing your thoughts. 

“I guessed you’re too stunned to see me,” Jay teases again, making you snap out of your daze.

You chuckled nervously, “what? You just scared me, that’s all.” 

“Really? Well now that I finally found you, how about we talk about your promise?”

“You really searched for me, didn’t you?” you asked instead.

Jay tilts his head amusingly. “Not really, let’s just say fate is doing its work.”

Funny. You thought. It’s the same sign that you’re looking to continue your plan. You weren’t able to say another thing as Jay stood there waiting for your answer. 

And suddenly, that scene from Yeonjun’s dorm flashed in your mind. It has always been engraved in your mind how close they were. Their intimate position as Yeonjun looked at you with shock while Yoomi was glad that you caught both of them. 

Then you remember the times you accompanied Yoomi to Jay’s gig. How she would shout his name so loud that you looked away embarrassed. How she crashed out when Jay reposted her instagram story of his photo taken by her. You remembered how deep Yoomi’s love for Jay — ever since high school, Jay has always been the guy that she wanted to marry. 

You told yourself that if you ever crossed paths with Jay again, it’ll be the sign to get back to Yoomi. That this is karma’s way to tell you that you should do it instead of waiting for them. Now, Jay found you and is eager to get that date, what’s holding you back now?

It’s the last year of your college. Why not end it with pettiness and hatred? You don’t want to graduate college with pain and trauma, and surely, you don’t want to be the bigger person who’ll forgive and forget — no, you were never always the bigger person. Not when there’s nothing to forgive and forget because both Yeonjun and Yoomi weren’t sorry for their actions. 

“Like, right now?” You asked Jay. 

Jay merely shrugs, “I mean if you want to, but if you want a splendid, prepared date, we can also have that one.” 

You clicked your tongue. Pondering if this is worth ditching Yunjin and Jake. 

And it didn’t take you a minute to decide. You fished out your phone and started typing a message to your roommates. 

3rd floor besties <3

Yn: Can’t go. Jay asked me to have dinner with him. I’ll spare the details later. 

5:23 pm

Yunjin: JAY ???? THE GUY THAT Yoomi LIKES ???

5:24 pm

Jake: Guessed he found you lmao. He’s been yapping about you since that night at the club. 

5:24 pm

Yunjin: GO FOR IT GURLIE WE LOVE TO SEE IT. 

5:24 pm

You chose to not reply to your roommates and instead, placed your phone in your jeans pocket. 

“So, where should we spontaneously go for a dinner date?” You asked. 

“You sure, you don’t mind ditching your friends?” he throws back the question. 

You only shrugged, “they’ll be fine. So, where are we going?” 

“You take the pick, I’m okay with anything.”

You and Jay stumbled upon a small chinese eatery just five minutes away from the university gate. It’s a bit crowded and maybe, your pho cravings can be replaced with xiao long bao. 

As soon as the server left the table, that’s when an awkward atmosphere emitted between the two of you. You didn’t know what to say compared that night wherein alcohol took a huge part in your courage. 

“So, how have you been?” Jay started, making you glance at him.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I’m doing okay actually, how about you? You seem like you were glad to see me.” 

“I’m going to be honest but I actually am glad to see you.”

For Jay, the university was big yet small as he looked for you. 

He never felt so pathetic in his life before. One of his mistakes was not asking for your socials and damn you, for telling him that it’ll be fate for you two to meet again. He’s not even a spiritual person and whatever you said made him think if you’re interested in him or not. 

A week or two felt like a hopeless case, it wasn’t until his idiotic friend, Jake Sim only recently told him that you’re his roommate — after weeks of him venting his frustration.

“You’re down bad,” Jake jokingly said. 

“Shut up and just tell me about her college program,” Jay hastily said. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Jake said in a serious tone. “Her last relationship was fucked-up, her ex was a fucking asshole that cheated on her.” 

Jay didn’t question Jake’s protective tone. He only nods as he assures his friend that he doesn’t have any bad intentions towards you. He understands why it took Jake a while for him to say that you’re his roommates. 

That’s when he got to know you. You’re a senior like him. You study diplomatics which is on the other side of the university — far from his building. While it’s stupid for him to stand outside your department building looking like a stalker, Jay took the courage to pass by the building in hopes of bumping into you. 

And it seems like favor is on him because you two met midway that what he was supposed to plan. 

“Jake told you huh?” you laughed after hearing Jay’s story. 

“Yeah, he also told me some stuff,” Jay replied, making you stop. You glanced at him, heart beating fast. 

“About your ex, you know, he’s an asshole who doesn't deserve you.”

You only smile at him. “It’s kinda traumatic for me, what happened and — Jay, I just want to tell you that I’m not that ready to enter a serious relationship.”

“You can back out now before I use you in my plan,” was what you actually meant. 

“And I am not rushing you,” Jay answered. “Let’s just keep it casual okay? Get to know each other, and go on a few dates.”

You let out a nervous laugh, “you’re eager huh?”

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” Jay truthfully said. So casual and simply that he didn’t know it shot an arrow to your heart.

That was your sign.

“I think he likes me,” you started. After the dinner, Jay walked you to your dorm where Jake and Yunjin were waiting. You can see through the floor balcony that the two of them were waiting for you like a parent whose daughter went past her curfew.

“Likes you? Dude, he’s down bad!” Jake pointed out. “I swear, every time I was with him, he’s all frustrated because he couldn’t find you.” 

“And it took you two weeks to tell him that you’re y/n’s roommate?” Yunjin raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it’ll pass, but two weeks and he still keeps on looking for y/n had me thinking that he’s so desperate,” Jake shrugs. 

You let out a frustrated groan, getting your roommate’s attention. 

“You guys be honest, am I petty if I want to date Jay just to get back to Yoomi?” you asked. 

The two of them only stared at you, making you let out a sigh again. 

“It’s stupid right? I shouldn’t do it —”

“No, no, if it gives you the satisfaction of getting back to Yoomi, then why not?” Yunjin answered. 

“Just make sure you don’t hurt Jay, he seems genuine about you,” Jake added. 

You only stared at them for a good minute. “This is a bad idea right?”

Both your roommates looked at each other. Yunjin signaled Jake who only groaned as he glanced back at you. He fixes his glasses like he’s sort of a scientist while he leans against the railings of the balcony. 

“Y/n, I’m telling you this as Jay’s friend. If you plan on using Jay just to get back to Yoomi, then don’t do it. Don’t involve innocent people around here — regardless how much Yoomi hurt you,” Jake explained. 

“Yeah, who knows, maybe it’ll go back to you too,” Yunjin added. 

You only nod at their words. “But Jay really likes me — but I’m not ready for a relationship. The only reason why I said yes was because I was really planning on getting back to Yoomi.”

The three of you fell into an awkward silence. Silently pondering your words, both your roommates knew how much it hurted you, and while they’re in to tolerate your pettiness, an innocent person is on the line. 

Then, Yunjin’s face lights up, snapping her fingers to get your attention. 

“Just think of it this way y/n, Jay likes you and not Yoomi. Yoomi has been obsessing with Jay for god knows how long, and you got him wrapped around your finger that easily. Just date him casually! Just show to Yoomi that you can have Jay and she can’t — and she’s dating that trash of your ex too.” Yunjin explained. 

“Yunjin’s right, and Jay told you that he’s not rushing you right? You’re not pressured to date him exclusively too. Get to know him too, who knows maybe you two end up friends instead,” Jake added. 

“Wait, that answers my worry! I can also reject Jay since he knew from the start that I am not ready for a committed relationship,” you pointed out. 

“Jay’s a nice guy y/n, he’ll understand if you reject him too,” Jake stated. 

You let out a loud sigh of relief. The plan was simple: date Jay and show Yoomi that. You didn’t need some splendid action to be the end of your revenge. It didn’t matter to you its aftermath. All you can think about is stretching it long enough to make it believable.

And probably long enough for Yoomi to confront you and shove in her face that Jay’s interested in you — not her. That’ll destroy her. 

“Just don’t overthink about it,” Yunjin stated. “I know how you tend to mix your decisions with your emotions. Always think rationally okay? Go with the flow and everything.”

You only looked at her with an assuring smile, “don’t worry, no feelings involved in this one.” 

-

You always wonder why luck is always on Yoomi’s side. 

Of course, she managed to maintain her scholarship despite not maintaining her gpa. A bit unfair but you heard that she pulled a few strings to your college dean just so she can still have her scholarship until graduation. 

Now, she’s all over her instagram story having a “story time” that’s about 20+ slides and you seriously wonder if there are people who are willing to watch those — maybe those who are interested in her life just to talk shit about her.

“Look at this,” Yunjin laughed, showing you a screenshot of Yoomi’s ig story. In the post, she shared how Yeonjun comforted her by buying her flowers from a nearby flower shop and took her to her favorite coffee shop so that the two of them could have a study date.

She shared that being able to maintain her scholarship was a gift and now, she’ll work hard to maintain her gpa. (and in case her followers don’t know, she’s running for summa cum laude.)

“Ugh, does she ever think that no one gives a fuck about her life story?” Yoomi’s an open book for everyone. She shares the most insane tmi’s on her social media which dilutes her personality. But what bothers you is that no one never dared to call her out and give her a reality check. Everyone in your department knows that you dated Yeonjun before she did, but no one…not even one, bat an eye on the situation. 

“I feel like only a few people do, but I do like scouring through her instagram story just to laugh at it,” Yunjin snickered. 

“You’re so mean,” you mocked. “How can you do that to sweet little Yoomi?”

“Shut up, you literally loathe her,” the two of you bursted into laughter as you two decided that it’s time to return to your class after staying in a cafe during lunch time. 

“By the way, when are you going to meet Jay again?” Yunjin asked. 

“This Saturday,” you answered simply. During your spontaneous date, you and Jay exchanged socials and numbers. He immediately sent you a text after he reached his place, and your conversation continued ever since. 

“What’s the plan?” Yunjin asked.

“I don’t have any,” you shrugged. “I’ll just think that we’re casually dating, and let Yoomi discover it herself.” 

“So, no soft-launches or instagram stories?”

“None for me. It’ll be obvious if I post Jay, but if Jay posts me?” you let out a small laugh. “And Yoomi sees it? Oh that’ll crash her.” 

Yunjin gasps, “god you’re so genius for that! You’re really taking this seriously aren’t you?”

And before you could answer, your eyes caught a glimpse of Yoomi and Yeonjun walking together towards the entrance of the department building. You stop as you observe how Yoomi’s talking non stop as she clings around Yeonjun’s arms.

Instead of answering Yunjin, you only gave her a glance before shifting your gaze back to the couple. You can hear Yunjin imitating a gagging sound which only makes you chuckle.

“I hope they get caught by our discipline officer,” Yunjin muttered with disgust. 

“I just hope they break up in the ugliest way possible,” you mumbled. 

-

When Saturday arrived, you managed to slip out of your bed at 10 in the morning. Groaning as you enter the kitchen where Jake is. 

“Woah, you don’t seem prepared for your date,” Jake teases. 

“Why did I agree to meet him during lunch time,” you complained, pouring yourself a glass of water. 

“It’s Jay that we’re talking about, who knows what he got under sleeves,” your roommate laughed. “Goodluck on your date, just keep it casual okay?”

“Yes dad,” you mocked.

You only ate a piece of bread with spread as your breakfast before returning to your room to prepare. Jay has sent you a message that he’ll pick you up at twelve noon. 

You fished out one of your casual clothes which is a soft cardigan and summer dress. You paired it with your mary jane doll shoes and kept your hair untied and flowy. After putting on some light makeup and accessories, you went out of your room to wait for Jay. You strut down towards the living where Yunjin and Jake are watching some series. 

“Oh my god, you look so gorgeous! You really prepared yourself, didn't you?” Yunjin compliments. 

“If it wasn’t for your revenge thingy, I would assume that you’re dressing to impress Jay,” Jake comments, earning a light punch from you. 

“Shut up, if he ever posts me on his social media, I should at least prepare myself right?” you pointed out, making the two laugh. 

And before the conversation could continue, you heard the doorbell of your flat ring, which indicated that Jay’s here. 

“Wow he’s early. He’s never been early in his band practices,” Jake stated. 

“He’s excited for you!” Yunjin squealed, shaking your shoulders as she pushed you towards the entrance.

You only laugh as you stop in front of the door, glancing at your roommates who only shushes you to answer the door. 

Jay stood there in his glory, and like the first time you two met — he’s rocking his signature polo shirt but this time, it’s a loose and button-down, paired with formal slacks. He styled his hair in a boyish look which complimented him more. 

“Hi,” he greets you with a smile, and before you could say anything, he pulls something from his back. “Flowers?”

You could only smile as you grabbed the bouquet from him. “Lilies! How did you —”

“Thank me later!” Jake interrupted, which made you realise that your two roommates have been watching the scene. 

“Right —” you only chuckled, “Jay, my roommates Yunjin and Jake, you probably know them.”

“Hi!” Yunjin greets lightly. 

“I hope we get some leftovers from your date,” Jake casually said. 

You only laughed at their comments before glancing at Jay. “should we get going?”

“I’ll bring back y/n later at night,” Jay excused, grabbing your hand before waving goodbye to the two. 

“Enjoy your date!” Yunjin giggled. 

“Our leftovers, don’t forget!” Jake repeated. 

You and Jay were laughing on the way down and towards his car. 

“Remind me to buy Jake some food okay?” Jay jokes as he turns on the engine of his car, driving away from your dorm in a slow manner. 

“You really owe him big time huh?” you teased, glancing at the bouquet that he gave you. You always love lilies. The arrangement was gorgeous with small daisies and baby breaths wrapped around a delicate white and baby pink wrapper. 

“Without him, I wouldn’t be able to know more about you,” Jay explained, eyes still focused on the road. “That idiot took his time to tell me that you’re his roommate.”

You only laughed, “small world right?”

“Right.”

After an hour of driving, you catched a glimpse of the place that Jay bought you. You only glanced at him who’s smiling as he turned the car towards the entrance. 

“An oceanarium, what an interesting choice,” you teased, but there’s a huge smile on your face. 

“You like it?” he asked. 

You hummed for a minute, “Jake told you that I like the ocean?”

“You do?” Jay laughs, “no, this is just a coincidence but glad to know that I brought you to the right place.”

The oceanarium was crowded when you two went to the entrance. It took you a half an hour waiting time for the two of you to enter. 

Displays of aquariums welcomed you two. Your mouth gasping at the glass ceiling where marine creatures swam freely around the space. You were too immersed with the view that you had forgotten Jay who’s walking behind you. Smiling as he watches you be in awe at the place. 

He lets you walk around the area, following you wherever you want. You didn’t even notice how every time you’re standing in daze in front of an aquarium, Jay fishes out his phone to take a photo of you. His smile never left as he placed his phone back in his pocket. 

“You know, I always wanted to be a marine biologist,” you started, staring at the stingray passing by. 

Jay leans towards the aquarium, scanning the whole place. “Really? That’s a bit far from your program.”

“Decelis doesn’t offer that marine biology,” you only smiled. “But I’m content with my program.” 

Jay only chuckled. The two of you stood there, trying to be immersed with the place. The blue waters painting you two in that hue as the faint background of the ocean waves played on the speaker. 

“Wow,” you mumbled, catching a glimpse of a school of angelfish passing by. 

Jay on the other hand, couldn’t help but to keep on glancing at you. Smiling like an idiot because he chose the right place to take you. His eyes darted on your hand freely hanging. For a second Jay pondered, but his courage won over him. 

You were a bit startled when you felt Jay’s fingers brushing against yours, and in a split second, his hands slipped onto yours, intertwining with your fingers. You glanced at Jay and he only gave you a smile, tugging your heart in a light manner. 

“Should we go to the next area?”

The two of you walked together towards the next area, a dimmed room filled with small exhibitions of marine creatures that can be found in the deeper part of the ocean. Jay can hear your soft gasps and astonishment as your head scans every display. You two walked further until you two reached a larger area. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, quickly walking towards the huge glass that displayed a swarm of jellyfish, unknowingly you let go of Jay’s hand. You stood there, hands clasping on the glass as you watched them glow brightly under the dark blue waters, igniting a white light as it swims freely around the area. 

Jay remained standing from where he was standing, snapping another photo of you. He stared at it for a good minute, thinking how you look so beautiful despite the little light the place beams. He watched as you turned around, motioning him to come to you, which Jay only smiled as he walked towards you. 

“It’s so beautiful right?” you said, eyes never leaving the display. 

“Yeah, so beautiful” and as you looked at Jay, he was only staring at you. You can feel your face heating up, making you look away embarrassed. You can hear Jay’s soft chuckle, making you lightly punch his arms. 

“Stop that won’t you?” you muttered, embarrassed. 

“You look cute when you’re flustered,” Jay teased. 

“Shut up Jay,” you whined, walking away from the area, which only Jay followed you with a teasing smile on his face. 

After looking at every display inside the oceanarium, you two stumbled upon the souvenir shop where you found yourself staring at a small selection of keychains. 

“Found yourself something?” Jay asked, making you shift your head to him, before glancing at the keychain again. 

“Nothing, let’s go,” you said, but Jay pulls you. 

“You want the keychain? Come on, it’s cute,” Jay said, grabbing the starfish and jellyfish. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s a bit pricey too —”

“It’s on me, don’t worry,” Jay assured, and before you could even rebut, Jay had made his way towards the counter, fishing out his wallet and paying the keychains with ease. 

“Here,” Jay hands you the jellyfish keychain, smiling at you as he waved the plastic bag with the other keychain inside. 

“So that we can match,” he pointed out, and that only made you laugh. 

“Fine, if you insist,” but nonchalantly said, but deep inside you can feel your heart beating fast. 

You and Jay had a late lunch at a local restaurant near the oceanarium, enjoying a hearty meal with a side of takeout for your two hungry roommates. You two shared a few conversations and you’ve learned more about Jay — shifting the conversation to Yoomi. 

“I do know her, she was a schoolmate of mine, I was surprised that she studies in Decelis,” Jay laughs. “Why? What’s with Yoomi?”

You only bite your lips, suppressing a bitter laugh, “she used to be a friend of mine but she stole my boyfriend and yeah,” shrugging it off as you focus your attention on your meal.

“Wait, your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend?” Jay asked, appalled. 

You shrugged once again, “guess it was like that, I didn’t ask for an explanation because damn, what for right?” 

“Wow,” Jay said, shocked. He leaned against his seat as he tried to sink everything. “Damn, they’re a bunch of assholes.”

“I know but let’s just change the topic before I lose my appetite here,” you jokingly said. 

“I can’t believe it,” Jay leans against his chair. “I mean this is just an impression but I never thought Yoomi would do that.”

That’s when you bitterly smiled, “I thought so too.” you said with disappointment. 

Thankfully, Jay didn’t push further. He darted his attention to his meal instead, having you two eat in silence. You knew that bringing up your past may be an awkward thing to do during dates but the least you can do is give Jay a hint about your past relationship. 

The drive on the way back was quiet, yet comfortable. You could only listen to the music playing on the car’s stereo, a collection of old love songs that Jay had played from his phone. It was a random choice but it completely suited the vibe of the evening. You watched from the window the busy streets of the city. People walking down the streets, the opened establishments of local stores and their colorful signs, glistening just like the street lights. Everything just feels serene for you. 

Soon, you two reached your place. As Jay parked the car on the side, that’s when you realized that you just finished your date. 

“I had fun,” you blurted out. Removing your seatbelt before giving Jay a glance. “Thank you Jay for this day.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Jay said, and the next thing you knew, his hands brushed the stray hairs that covered your face, you were a bit startled but didn’t move. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and you could only blink, trying to sink in what he just said. 

“Of course Jay,” you smiled. 

Jay leans closer to you, making you close your eyes as you feel his soft lips crashing onto yours. It felt surreal for you, but your lips moved on its own as you kissed Jay back. It was soft and gentle, as if he was careful of hurting you. You can feel it that way when his hands never left your face, thumb caressing your cheeks as the kiss continued. 

And what felt like an hour broke down the minute you broke from the kiss. Catching your breath as you looked at Jay who had a soft smile on his lips. 

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, placing another kiss on your lips. “See you again?”

With that, you lightfully kissed him in the lips again. “Of course, goodnight Jay.”

And just like that, you returned to your apartment with a smile on your lips. More determined to continue your plan on getting back to your ex-best friend. 

-

Monday arrived and Yoomi cornered you in the hallway. 

“You went out on a date with Jay,” she said to you, looking more betrayed than ever. 

“How did you know?” you asked instead, knowing that Jay didn’t post you in his social media. 

“Hana saw you. Jay walked you to your apartment with a bouquet,” she added. Right. You thought. You almost forgot you have a former friend who lives nearby your dorm. 

“It’s just a date,” you shrugged casually, knowing that Yoomi doesn’t take a ‘date with Jay’ lightly. She’ll sell her soul just to have a date with Jay. 

“You knew I liked Jay from the start,” Yoomi gritted her teeth. “Have you ever heard of girl’s code?”

That’s when a mocking laughter escaped your lips, “funny that you said that, ever heard of it when you went behind my back and stole Yeonjun?”

“Yeonjun approached me first,” she explained, her tone becoming soft like she was asking for your sympathy. “And I know that it was mistake but for the first time, someone noticed me and I couldn’t help it —”

“Even if it was your best friend’s boyfriend?” 

“You were too good for Yeonjun anyway! You never prioritise your relationship with him and become too focused on your academics.” she immediately rebutted, tone shifting into  a defensive one. 

Her words made you let out a chuckle. Her reason made no sense for you, and it just fueled your anger at her. It didn’t make any sense that your academics will be the reason for you to be cheated — Yeonjun knew that from the start, it has always been your priority. You two always had study dates, and sometimes Yoomi would even join you too. So it didn’t made sense for you why that’s the reason for your life to get fucked. 

You couldn’t believe that after a year of cutting her off, this is the first time you’ll confront her. So much for a Monday morning for you. You always convince yourself that there’s no need to hear her side, but there’s a small itch inside you that wants to know — in hopes that maybe it can heal a bit of the huge damage that scarred you. 

“Is that so?” you raised an eyebrow. “Well, for your information, Jay approached me first, and for the first time ever since Yeonjun and I broke up, someone noticed me. So I guess we’re even.” 

You can see in her eyes that she was surprised. Her eyes started to water as if she was stabbed in her heart with a long dagger. And as you stare at her with a bored look, a bitter smile forms on your lips. “Why are you so bothered that I am seeing Jay? You have Yeonjun already, right?”

Yoomi didn’t say anything. She stood there frozen as you lazily shrugged your shoulders. “Yoomi, Jay was never yours in the first place right? So there’s nothing wrong with me dating him,” you explained. “And there’s no girl’s code here, because we’re not friends anymore either.”

You gave her a genuine smile before you left her there standing. You walked your way towards your classroom when you felt your phone vibrating. Grabbing it, you smiled as you received a text from Jay. Talking about good timing, he asked you to hangout with him after school. 

“Of course,” you mumbled as you sent your reply to him. 

You felt satisfied with the confrontation. Now that Yoomi knows that you’re dating Jay, you wanted to crush her even more. More dates, more show-off. And who knows, maybe you’ll get to sleep with Jay too. That’s not part of your plan but you know that it’ll leave Yoomi into insanity. 

The day moved at a fast pace, the next thing you knew, your prof dismissed the class with a few reminders. As you pack your things, Yunjin eyes on you teasingly. 

“You’re going to ditch us again huh? Is this what having a love life feels like!?” Unlike you, Yunjin likes throwing remarks, and she made sure her voice is loud enough for Yoomi to turn her head towards your direction. 

“It’s nothing, he just asked me if we can hangout later,” you casually said. 

“You’re so shameless,” Yunjin rolled her eyes making you laugh.

You can feel Yoomi’s eyes never leaving yours, and you faintly smirked as you and Yunjin exit the classroom. 

Outside the department, Jay was waiting near the benches. As soon as he saw you, Jay smiled as he approached you and Yunjin. You can feel the stares darting towards you and Jay, that’s when you remember that Jay’s kinda famous around the campus because of Arcanum. You didn’t like the attention, but knowing that any minute, Yoomi will exit the building, you let it be. 

“Hi,” Jay greets, smiling at you two. “Hi Yunjin.”

“Thanks for the leftovers by the way, hopefully we can have some again tonight,” Yunjin teased, making you elbow your friend. 

“Ignore her,” you laughed. “Let’s go?”

You and Jay began walking towards the parking lot. This isn’t the first time you and Jay had walked together inside the campus, but this is like your ‘soft-launch’ with your relationship with him, given that he was carrying your tote bag throughout the whole time. 

And if that doesn’t give you satisfaction, Yunjin sent you a message saying that Yoomi saw you and Jay leave together, making you smile as you put down your phone in your pocket. 

“You’re smiling,” Jay pointed out.

You only hum lightly, grabbing Jay’s hands and intertwining it with yours. You felt the way Jay was surprised by your actions, but let it be, his smile turning wider. 

“Just in a happy mood,” you explained. “So, where are we going?”

You found yourself in a familiar place — The Rabbit Hole, which is a mixture of coffee shop and bar lounge. It’s Arcanum’s usual spot for their gig. You’re so familiar with the place that you know that their gig starts at seven in the evening. And by seven, the place will be crowded with their fans and students, it’ll be loud, a bit chaotic but it’s a good chaos.

It made you wonder if Yoomi’s going to show up to support Jay since she never missed Arcanum’s gig. You sat by a corner table, your tote bag placed on top as you scan the menu. 

“Hi! You’re here again!” The Rabbit Hole is under Decelis University’s funding, and often one of their students would work there as part-timers. One of them being Kim Sunoo, who’s smile never fades especially when it’s a full house. 

“Hi Sunoo! I miss you,” you smiled, giving the junior a hug. “How’s work here?”

“All the same, but it was nice seeing you again! You’re my favorite customer, you know?” he complimented. 

“Thanks Sunoo, I’ll have the usual, you still remember it right?” you said. 

“Of course, orange flower cocktail and wedged fries. Just sit back and relax, because it seems like Arcanum has a special performance tonight,” the younger winks at you before leaving towards the kitchen. His words leave you wondering as you watch Arcanum set up. 

It didn’t take a while for the place to be filled with people. You can see your fellow schoolmates still in their department uniform, not even bother changing clothes. Locals and supporters also filled the area. It had become so busy that Sunoo moved you to the bar counter in which you were accompanied by their new part-timer named Riki. 

You only munched on your fries as you scanned the whole place, and near the stage you saw Yoomi, along with some of your former friends, talking as they waited for Arcanum’s performance. You watched as they laughed and cheered their colorful cocktails while you sat on the corner, eating your soggy fries and drinking your melted drink. 

You can feel a tug on your heart, watching how they had fun especially when you used to have a place there. You never felt more lonely by the counter, wishing that you brought your roommates along with you. 

A static sound interrupted your thoughts, shifting your attention to the stage where Arcanum’s main vocalist and bassist, Lee Heeseung taps the mic. He waves to the crowd and smiles, earning a few screams from their fans. 

“Are you guys ready to have fun!?” he shouted, and the crowd shouted “yes!” in response. You can see the smirk from the oldest as he glances at his bandmates. Your eyes darted on Jay who changed his uniform to a casual streetwear outfit — far different from his usual looks but he looks good. 

“I think the energy is still low hyung,” Jungwon, who’s on the drums, teases. Earning a few uproar from the crowd, which made the band laugh.

“Let me ask one more time, are you guys ready to have fun!?” This time, the crowd became louder, enough for you to be startled. You hear Heeseung laugh as he counts down from three and with that, they begin playing their song. 

From the many times you attended their gig, this is the first time you decided to watch their performance. Eyes locked on the stage as Heeseung began singing, making you realise that there’s a reason why they’re popular despite being a university band. 

The crowd was singing along, making you an odd one out who’s only nodding her head along the beat. Your eyes darted on Jay, you watched as he passionately played the instrument. He was feeling it like he was a rockstar

Damn. You couldn’t help but to lock your eyes on him. He was absolutely heaven to stare at, and it only took you this time to realise why girls like Yoomi go crazy over him. It didn’t sink into you that you’ve been staring for too long that when Jay glanced at you, you were surprised. But you saw how Jay smiled before winking at you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, unknown how Jay had this effect on you. 

Arcanum performed five songs, with a few pause for the band’s introduction and their self-composed songs. They were fun to watch. They interacted with the crowd and moreover, made them laugh too. 

“But before we move on to our next song, we have a surprise for you guys,” Heeseung started. His eyes darted on Jay, earning a few teases from Jungwon and Sunghoon.

“This is a rare occasion, so you guys are lucky to witness this one,” Sunghoon added. 

“Right! We practiced hard for this one,” Jungwon added

You were too focused with their ment that you didn’t felt Sunoo’s nudge until he did it again, you only glanced at the younger who gave you a meaningful smile. 

“Okay, we don’t want to wait for too long right? Jay, the floor is yours,” Heeseung exchanges his place with Jay who stood in front of the mic, holding his electric guitar. A few cheers can be heard but you can hear a familiar voice that keeps on screaming “Park Jongseong!”

You shifted your attention towards Yoomi who’s hopping like a bunny, shouting Jay’s full name with her whole heart. Damn. You thought. She really is not over Jay. 

“Hi guys, I’m Jay, Arcanum’s electric guitarist,” Jay introduces. “This is kinda cringe, but when you really love someone, you just want to dedicate a few songs to her right?.”

“I don’t think I did that to my girlfriend dude,” Heeseung rebuts, making the room laugh. 

Jay only chuckles, “shut up, you wrote a song about her — but anyways, I just want to dedicate a few songs to the girl who holds a place in my heart.” With that, the crowd cooed at Jay's words. 

But you felt the world shutting down. Ears muted as you watched Jay glance from where you were sitting. You didn’t notice that you were left stunned, not until you felt Sunoo shaking your shoulder out of teasing.  

You can feel it, a few people glancing at you, your heart beating rapidly like crazy. Things didn’t sink in your mind until Jay strummed the first chords of the song. 

“I love you. But I don't really show you,” the lyrics said. You watch as Jay serenades the crowd with a song that you knew very well talks about love. You can hear the cheers, and then there’s the whispers, oblivious people wondering who the special girl was. 

Jay sang the song with much sincerity, ending it with a short guitar solo which made the crowd be in awe with his skills. Screams and shouts continued until the last chord. You couldn’t help but to applause, a smile forming on your lips as you stood up from your chair. 

“Seems like they love your voice Jay-hyung,” Jungwon complimented, making the audience laugh, chanting Jay’s name which made the boy flustered. 

“Do you guys want more?” he asked, and all he received was a loud yes from the crowd. 

“Alright, for the next one, it’s a new song we composed. It's a bit chill but I hope you guys like it,” Jay said, turning around to his bandmate who immediately got the cue. 

Sunghoon started off the song with a short intro from his keyboards. It was soft and gentle, almost like a lullaby. It wasn’t until Jungwon accompanied it with drums then came along the bass and guitar. 

It felt unreal, a song that when you first hear, you’ll feel like you’re falling in love.  You were hooked by the melody, watching as Jay glanced at you before turning his attention to the crowd. 

“X-O, X-O, kiss me, don't let go,” Jay sang, smiling ear to ear as he sang the lyrics in an upbeat manner. 

It was cute, yet short, all you can hear was Jay’s vocals, sometimes harmonizing with his bandmates. You didn’t even notice that the song had ended, if it wasn’t for the crowd’s cheering, you would have been caught in daze due to the performance. 

“So what Jay was trying to say, he deserves a kiss from his special girl,” Heeseung stated, which earned a few screams from the crowd. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Sunghoon shouted, starting the chant which was followed by the crowd. 

You only laugh as you try to sink in your seat, embarrassed. But it didn’t help that Sunoo and Riki teamed-up to pull you up from your seat, almost carrying you as the crowd’s chants got louder the moment you reached the stage. You were left with no choice but to face it especially when the two juniors pushed you specifically at Jay who managed to get a hold of you from falling. 

You can hear the crowd teasing the two of you. If it wasn’t enough, Jay’s bandmates joined the fun too, you could only hide behind Jay’s back but Heeseung managed to pull you away from Jay. 

“Nice to meet you Jay’s special girl,” Heeseung smiles and you only chuckled. Facing him since you were left with no choice but to accept the request. “You don’t mind it right? The crowd’s curious about you because this is like the first time Jay sang during a gig, so consider yourself lucky.”

Your eyes widen at Heeseung’s words, hiding your flustered feeling by letting out an awkward laugh. Your words got stuck on your throat as you only glanced at Jay who’s like a confused cat, standing in front of you. 

“You’ll be okay with it?” Jay asked you, tone hinted with worry. 

That’s when you can feel from your peripheral vision that your ex-best friend is watching every move that you’ll do. Everything’s coming into pieces for you. Although the peer pressure is there, what would be more satisfying than seeing Yoomi’s reaction especially when she just confronted you earlier this morning?

“I don’t mind,” you answered Jay, giving him a small smile before signaling him to lean closer. 

But you wanted to tease a little bit, hence, your lips landed on his cheeks which caused an uproar from the audience. They kept on chanting that you two should kiss again, but you only shook your head while Jay was speechless. 

“Okay that’s enough pda, we don’t want to get suspended by our uni alright? Y/n is still in her uniform guys,” Heeseung managed to calm down the crowd, while you and Jay remained there frozen. You can hear Jungwon and Sunghoon’s laughters from behind, before they went near the two of you, teasing Jay who could only looked away with his ears turning red. 

After that scandalous scene, Arcanum performed a few songs and covers before they finished their gig. You watched as the band members got swarmed by a few people. They attentively took their time to take photos and signed some papers for them. They weren’t just popular for their music, but they were also kind and soft-hearted. Each interaction was genuine. 

Your eyes shifted to Jay who’s busy talking to a fan when you noticed that Yoomi was approaching him. You stopped your tracks, standing up from your seat which caught Jay’s attention, making an eye contact with you, you only gave him a quick smile which made him excuse himself from the fans — not even sparing a glance at Yoomi who wasn’t able to tap his shoulders. 

“Sorry it took a bit long, we were supposed to end around nine,” he apologized as soon as he’s in front of you. It was nearing ten and the place was still crowded, with the speakers blasting a few pop songs to hype up the crowd.

“It’s okay, I enjoyed your performance,” you gave him a smile. From where you were sitting, you witnessed how Yoomi returned to her table disappointed, which made you smile even wider. 

“I’m glad you did. I was supposed to take you to dinner but it’s getting late already.” Jay sighed in relief.

“It’s okay, I did order food while watching your gig.” you insisted.

“How about this, we can have dinner some other time.” Jay suggested, making you raise an eyebrow.

“And where’s this dinner going to be held huh?”

-

How you ended up in Jay’s apartment wasn't what you expected. And yet, you’re there standing in front of his door, ringing the bell twice, and just thinking “whatever happens tonight, happens.”

It’s been a few days since the Rabbit Hole gig. Your little stunt spread throughout Decelis — which instantly concluded that you and Jay are dating, and the only small details students don’t know are whether it is exclusively or casual. Yoomi hasn't bothered you ever since, but you know that she’s been drilling holes whenever you’re near her vicinity. You know that she’s been itching to confront you again, but because of the embarrassment that she felt that night, she distanced herself for some time. 

Then you recalled that night you first met Jay, how he asked you to go to his place and you rejected him. Now, everything has come full circle because you’re about to have dinner with him in his place — that is, if dinner will actually happen. 

Jay opens the door for you, planting a kiss on your temple as you walk inside. You scanned the whole place. It was huge, clean, and a bit cozy with the jazz music playing on his vinyl record player. 

“Your place looks nice,” you complimented. 

“Thanks,” Jay muttered, walking towards the kitchen wherein you trailed to.

You watch as Jay busies himself in the kitchen. You can smell the heavenly smell of sauteed garlic and rosemary on butter, pots on the stove boiling some pasta while there’s the sizzling sound of steak on a hot pan. 

“That looks delicious,” you peeked through the stove, eyeing Jay's skillful hands as he cooked the sauce. “Is there anything that I can help?”

Jay only gave you a smile as he prepared everything with ease, “no need to worry about dinner, just go sit on the couch, you can watch some series on my tv.”

“Well, I would rather watch you cook instead,” you pursued, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“You’re just here to distract me,” Jay teased, eyes never left the stove.

“Maybe I do have plans on distracting you.”

Jay shifted his glance on you, letting out a soft chuckle as he stole another kiss on your cheeks before passing by you. He heads towards the corner where a stack of wine is placed. 

“Want some?” he raises the bottle, and you only nod, watching Jay open the bottle and pour on two glasses. He gave you the other one which you mumbled your thanks, taking a little sip on it, while Jay continued his cooking. 

“This is nice,” you hummed. “This is new.” 

“Never had homemade dinner with him?” Jay asked, and you knew who he was referring to.

You only shake your head. Memories rushing through your mind, thinking about the dates you and Yeonjun had. Some were grandeur, while some were plain. Most of the time you two would go to coffee shops and study your hearts out. It was quiet and tranquil, and productive too. 

Your mind shifted to Yoomi’s words a few days ago, how you were so focused with your academics — wondering if it was also the cause of your relationship’s downfall. That may be the reason why Yeonjun cheated you with Yoomi. 

You mindlessly took a sip on the wine as you pondered your thoughts, not noticing the way Jay kept on glancing at you. 

“Sorry I brought it up,” Jay blurted out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, just had a little pondering,” you smiled. 

“I don’t mind listening,” Jay said, still busying himself with his cooking. 

“I think I’m the problem,” you mumbled. “It didn’t surprise me that Yeonjun left me, I’m plain, introvert, and a bit tamed — I always prioritise my studies over anything else, and maybe Yeonjun felt like he’s not a huge part of my life that’s why he left —”

“That doesn’t excuse him cheating and Yoomi going behind your back,” Jay said. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and I admire that you have your goal set. It’s Yeonjun’s problem that he couldn’t accept that.” 

You only bitterly laugh as Jay’s words felt comforting, you can hear from his tone that he was defensive about you which you were glad that he was. 

“Let’s just forget about them alright? Tonight’s about us,” Jay insisted, and you let him be. 

Dinner felt more special especially when Jay took his time plating the dish as he served it in front of you. His smile never leaves his lips as he watches you take a bite from the steak. You could only hum as you took another bite while Jay, who’s in front of you, is waiting for your words. 

“God I should just marry you,” you blurted out. “How do you even cook so good?” 

“Just some basic skills,” Jay nonchalantly said, making you chuckle.

Dinner continued on, with Jay bringing the wine you two were drinking earlier, accompanied by a heavenly molten cake that he bought from a local pastry shop. The night became deeper as your conversation became endless as you two moved towards the kitchen where the cake and wine remained while you helped Jay with the dishes. 

The dishes were on the rack but you and Jay remained in the kitchen, conversation never fading as you two shifted from one topic to another. 

“Okay, I want you to be honest,” you laughed, a bit tipsy with the amount of wine you had drank. “Did you find it cringe when I said that fate will find a way for us to meet?”

“Cringe? No, but confused, yeah a bit,” Jay confessed. “Maybe it was a mind game of yours but I was really confused how you rely on fate —”

“So you don’t believe in fate!” you pointed out, laughter becoming loud. 

Jay became quiet for a moment, “actually, I did slowly believe in fate, you know that I was supposed to pass by your building? You know, just in case I bumped into you. But it seems like fate made it easier and I found you halfway.”

That’s when you stopped, realizing that Jay’s words had become serious.

“You really searched for me, didn’t you?” you asked with a soft tone. “You really don’t want to rely on fate, won’t you?”

“Why wait for the universe to make a move when I can do it by myself?” 

At that moment the atmosphere became heavy. Suddenly, you felt tense. 

Jay’s sharp gaze remained at you, observing you in every possible way and he couldn’t help but to curse under his breath. Your eyes that were staring at him were so innocent that he wondered where’s the girl who made him chase the game. 

His hand slowly trailed to your cheeks, he watched whether you'd flinch or not – but you stood there, eyes never leaving his. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes. “And I won’t do it.”

Your heart skips a beat hearing those words. Your mind started to be clouded by thoughts. This is it. You thought. Doing the worst thing that will crash your ex-best friend’s heart. 

How good will it feel to finally get back to Yoomi? It was the first thing that you thought as you pulled Jay for a kiss, an action so brass but you didn’t care. You’ve waited long for this. 

Jay responded to your kiss softly. Savoring your lips, as he tastes the lingering chocolate you two had earlier. He gently grabbed you on your waist as he pushed you lightly against the counter, closing the proximity between the two of you. This is way different from the first time you two kissed, something about it felt intense, as if you two are dying to taste each other. 

The kiss broke in just a few seconds, you were catching your breath as Jay trailed his lips from your mouth down to your jawline. Peppering soft kisses which left you even more breathless. You can feel his hands playing around the hem of your blouse. Slipping underneath as you felt his hot hands carefully climbing upwards your chest. 

“Jay —” you called out but you couldn’t even bother to finish your sentence. 

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” he assured between his kisses. 

“I don’t think we should do it here,” you managed to finish your sentence making Jay stop. 

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you felt nervous, wondering if you ruined the atmosphere. But Jay only chuckles as he sealed your lips with his. “If that’s what my girl wants.” 

He pulled you out of the kitchen and rushed towards his bedroom. As you two reach the entrance, he opens the door and gestures for you to come inside like some gentleman he is. You only laughed as you walked past through him, but you shortly let out a yelp as he smacked your ass in the process.

You hear Jay chuckle as he closes and locks the bedroom door. 

“Not funny,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. 

“Aw, come here pretty girl,” he grabs your face and kisses you once again. 

You didn’t hold back either. You kissed him back with much intensity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you, the same way he grabs you by your waist. 

Jay shifted for a second to pull off his top and your eyes went wide by his action. You always knew that Jay’s physique was good, you can see it from his fitted polo shirts and tank tops, but god, seeing it up close just brought heaven to you. 

Your eyes wandered to his chest down to his abs which you unconsciously trailed with your fingers. God he’s so fucking hot. Despite the room being dim-lighted, you can still see how good his body was. You couldn’t help but to bite your lips as your touch lingered to his body. 

“Eyes up here,” Jay calls out, and as you glance at him once again, he traps you with his kiss. 

You two continued to make out, lips never leaving each other as you started to unbutton your blouse. Discarding it somewhere in the room before you placed your arms around Jay once again. As you two found the edge of his bed, Jay pulled you towards him, forcing you to sit on his lap as you two didn’t stop. 

Jay trailed his lips down to your neck, making you whimper lightly. He bites down at any bare skin, sucking and licking it that you’re sure he was leaving hickeys on it. You let him be, imagining how scandalous it will be for you to show up in class with your neck full of marks. 

You could only moan in pleasure as you let Jay continue abusing your neck. That’s when you focused on your pleasure, finding Jay’s hard on nearby your clothed cunt. You start grinding on it, trying to find friction despite the layers covered. 

“You’re eager for me, pretty girl?” he whispered huskily. You didn’t say a word, you continued grinding on him when you felt his hands on your waist. 

“Couldn’t even say a word huh?” That's when Jay’s hands shifted on your bra, removing its clasp and exposing your bare chest in front of him.

Jay didn’t waste any time, he grabs you by your waist and places you down on his bed. He traps you in between his legs, hovering over you as he stares at you lovingly. 

Something in your mind stroked you. The thought that Jay — Yoomi’s first love — is on top of you, looking at you like you’re his everything. It fueled a fire in you, you feel your pride swelling as you lightly cup his cheeks once again. That’s when it hit you — everything is real. 

“You’re nervous?” he asked,  holding your hands that were cupping his cheeks.

You shake your head as an answer. You watched as Jay removed your hands and kissed it with much tenderness. Your heart started to beat fast. The room’s temperature started to rise, but you were left there speechless as Jay leaned on to you to kiss you on the lips. 

“I’ll take care of you, don't worry,” he whispered as if it’s your first time. 

It’s actually your first time after your break-up. You lost trust in romance and intimacy after what happened. And you never thought that you'd go this far. Will it be worth letting yourself bare in front of a man? You pondered whether if it wasn’t getting back to Yoomi, would you still have sex with Jay?

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Jay’s touch lingered on your breast. He cups it without any hesitation, playing your nipples as he pinches your left one, making you moan. 

“Let out those sounds baby,” he said. “I need to hear you.”

Jay latches on your right nipple, sucking it harshly as you whimper under his touch. He continued to take his time playing with your breast which only leaves you breathless yet wanting more. He took things slowly but you couldn’t avoid the aching feeling between your thighs. You tried to buck your hips upward, trying to find friction on his body.

“Jay —” you called out before a sharp moan escaped your lips. Jay continued sucking your breast with hunger as his hands pinned you down from moving. 

“Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” That's when Jay unbuttons your pants, pulling it downward and leaving you in your underwear. You unconsciously close your legs, embarrassed as you feel bare in front of Jay. But you were surprised when Jay pulled you closer to him, hands gripping on your thighs as he pushed your legs wider. 

“Don’t be shy now, come on, let me make you feel good.” 

Jay said it so gently like he whispered a spell on you, you slowly spread your legs wider. Giving him access to your clothed pussy. Your breath hitches as his fingers feathered around the wet patch of your panties. Pressing his fingers to it, making you whimper. 

“You’re already wet for me? We barely even started,” he teased. 

“Jay — please,” you pleaded. “Please, let me feel you inside me.” 

As much as Jay wanted to, he wanted to savor you first. His fingers snapped through the waistband, glancing at you as if he was asking for your permission. You only nod, feeling dazed already as Jay removes your underwear, eyes locked at your dripping cunt. 

You let out a small whimper as you felt his fingers trailing through your pussy lips, gathering your wetness as he gazed at it hungrily. And it didn’t take you a second to process that he swipes his tongue on his fingers.

“Taste fucking good,” Jay cursed. “Can I?”

You mindlessly nod, and with that, Jay dives down to your warm core.

You let out a small mewl as you felt Jay’s tongue swiping through your core. Lapping at its lips like he was starving for it. Jay’s tongue harshly tasted every inch of your pussy that you couldn’t do anything but to writhe under his mouth. His hands gripped on your thighs tightly, holding you from moving as he continued to taste you. 

“You’re so sweet for me,” Jay whispered. You could only moan in pleasure as he latches onto your pussy once again, feeling his tongue inside you as his nose brushes lightly against your clit. You couldn’t help but to grab Jay’s hair, grinding against his face as you moan his name. 

That’s when you feel it. The coil inside your stomach tightening, a raspy groan escaping your lips as your hold on Jay’s hair tightens.

“J-jay, I’m gonna —” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Too lost in pleasure as Jay’s tongue continued to abuse your insides. 

“Gonna cum for me baby?” Jay mumbled, kissing your clit as he swipes his tongue through your core. “Come on, cum.”

That’s when you felt something snapped. Jay devours you as a muted moan leaves your mouth. You can feel the tears rolling down, too lost in pleasure as Jay eats you out to your orgasm. 

Your legs were shaking from the aftermath. Eyes drowsy as you felt yourself tired from the feeling. It didn’t register that Jay had crawled over you, kissing you on the lips which you could only whimper back. You can taste yourself as you kiss him back, his hands cupping your cheeks lightly as your lips find each other. 

“My girl did so good,” Jay whispered to you, kissing you on your cheeks as he lightly chuckled.

That’s when you felt the courage. Hands trailing on his stomach downwards where his obvious boner was. You lightly palmed his bulge, which earned a groan from Jay. 

“My turn,” you told him, and before you could move, Jay stopped you. 

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Tonight is all about you.” 

“Then, let me ride you Jay,” you proposed instead. 

“If that’s what you want baby,” Jay kisses you before pulling you out of the bed. 

You two switched positions, Jay settled on his back as he watched you tug his sweatpants, glancing at him before pulling it downwards along with his boxer. 

Jay’s cock springs upwards, hard and girthy. Beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. You curse under your breath as you wrap your hands around it, stroking it lightly, making Jay’s breathing uneven. 

It was stupid of yours to compare Jay’s dick from Yeonjun’s as you continue to stroke it. Sure, your ex’ dick was big but he was a bigger dick. And the only thing in your mind right now is that you’ll get to feel Jay’s cock inside you — and your bitch of an ex-best friend couldn’t. Yoomi can enjoy Yeonjun’s dick as much as she wants. While you? You’re going to ride Jay’s cock like there’s no tomorrow.

That’s why you hastily placed yourself on top of Jay, your pussy just enough to feather against Jay’s cock. You decided to test the waters, grinding your pussy against his cock,  a whimper escaping your lips along with Jay’s harsh moans. You continuously moved your hips in a slow motion, creating a heavy tension between you and Jay. 

You can feel his hands finding its way to your waist. You glanced at Jay who only bit his lips — you knew, he was controlling himself. That’s when you grabbed his cock, eyes never leaving Jay who watched you lustfully. You lifted your hips, aligning his cock on your entrance. Slowly, you sink into his dick, a choked moan leaving your lips as you can feel yourself full with his dick barely halfway inside. 

As if you needed some help, Jay thrust his hips upwards, making you moan as his cock slid inside you with ease. You hold onto his stomach as you try to support from the sensation. 

“So — full,” you choked as you grind against his cock, taking time to adjust to its size.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl,” Jay mumbled, slapping your ass which made you flinch. “Too big for your tight pussy? Can you even take it?”

You only glared at Jay as he lazily smirks at you. That’s when you started to buck your hips. Slowly you rise your hips enough for his tip to remain inside you. You slammed yourself down, making you whimper in pleasure. You continued to ride Jay, bouncing on his cock at a pace that leaves you full as his tip continued to slide your insides, stabbing your cervix that had you choking on your breath. 

“You look so beautiful from here,” Jay stated in between his moans. You can feel his hips bucking upwards, finding his own pleasure as you two meet halfway. Jay’s right hand grips on your waist to support you while his left hand trailed upwards to play with your breast, pinching your left nipple that had you arching your back. Head rolling as you fasten your pace.

And as you looked down at him, you saw Jay’s fucked-out expression. The way his hands grip tightly on your waist, his stomach stiffening as he breathy moans escape his lips. You loved the way his brows furrowed in aggression, you can feel his dick twitching inside you as you continued to ride him. 

“And you look so gorgeous from up here,” you teased, leaning towards him to plant a kiss on forehead. You lightly chuckled as Jay's expression never faltered, and if it wasn’t enough for you, you shifted to grind on his dick instead, leaving him grunting and gasping for more. 

Your hands found its way to his cheeks, lightly cupping it as you placed soft kisses all over his face — except his lips. 

“You’re — a fucking m-menace,” Jay said between his groans, making you chuckle.

He’s right. You're a menace. Because as you grind your hips to find more pleasure, all you can think about is how fucked-out Jay was, and it’s because of you. God knows what will happen if Yoomi finds out about this. 

And that’s what you wanted to happen. To show to Yoomi that you had Jay under you, writhing and gasping submissively as you continue to abuse his dick. Sex has always been an intimate moment for you, but now, all you can think about is how good your ex-best friend’s first love’s cock is. Have you known that his dick was this good, you would have agreed the first time he asked you out. 

You started bouncing once again, making Jay roll his head deep on the pillows. A loud moan leaves his lips which make you smile beneath him. That’s when you started attacking his neck, licking and biting on every spot your tongue latches to. 

But it didn’t take long for the pleasure to reach you. You let out a choked moan as you can feel your walls tightening. The feeling of your stomach coiling as your second orgasm is coming, your pace becomes sloppy but you continue to bounce on his dick, trying to chase your orgasm before your stamina fails you. 

“Need some help, pretty girl?” Jay asked, now both of his hands are on your waist as he continuously bucked his hips upwards.

But that only fueled your pride, you rested your hands on his chest, pushing him down further the mattress as you rode his cock faster. The room becomes more hot, only your soft moans and bodies slapping onto each other can be heard.

Jay continued to thrust upwards, his hands tightening as he can feel his dick twitching inside you — indicating that he’s near too. 

“So c-close, baby —” Jay chokes, eyes shut down but he never stops thrusting inside you. 

“M-me too,” you barely said. Your legs are about to give up, but Jay’s thrust had you put his dick in the perfect angle — just right on your spot. 

And as he abused your insides, you let out a choked moan, grasping on Jay’s stomach for support. 

“Jay —”

“I got you pretty girl,” Jay’s thrust became harsher, faster than before. 

Your second orgasm came inside you like a wave. You can feel your legs twitching as Jay fucked you through it. Your pussy tightening around his dick, sucking it so harshly that his thrust became sloppy. 

“T-too much —” you whispered, falling on his chest as tears started to fall. Your second orgasm hasn’t come down but Jay continued to thrust his dick inside you. 

“Hold it in pretty girl won’t you?” Jay mumbled, kissing you as he continued to thrust inside you.

Jay’s breathing becomes unstable as he continues to pound inside you. You could only hold on his shoulder as you cry through the overstimulation. Everything about you felt more sensitive, especially when Jay’s dick continued to hit your spot. 

And with one harsh thrust, Jay came inside you. You let out a moan as you feel his seeds spilling inside you. Jay sloppily thrusts inside, chasing after his orgasm as he paints your walls white.

The room became silent. Only harsh breathing can be heard. That’s when you felt Jay kissing your head as he lightly brushes your hair. His hands never left your waist but instead, he wraps his arms around your waist as he pulls you even more closer — not minding that you two are sticky and sweaty. 

You two remained in that position, he’s still inside you and you snuggly let it be. Feeling his warm cock inside you made you feel full and maybe — you’re just too tired to care about anything.

“We should clean up,” Jay was the first to break the silence. You lifted your head and glanced at him amusingly. Jay only smiles as he kisses your lips. 

“But I’m comfortable here,” you pouted. 

“As much as I am too, we need to clean you up especially that I came inside you,” he explained. 

“I’m on a pill Jay, don’t worry,” you mumbled. 

“Just stay here pretty girl,” he places you down on the bed, pulling out from you which makes you whimper from the loss.

Jay lightly chuckles as he leaves you alone to go to his bathroom.

As you lay on his bed, you couldn’t help but to think about what just happened. Your eyes never left the ceiling as the silence devoured you. 

You suddenly felt dirty, and it’s not because you can Jay’s cum spilling out of you. It disgusted you that you had sex with someone, and while you were comfortable with Jay, it just sank into your mind that you. Just. Had. Sex. — something that you had been avoiding ever since your breakup. 

You know that you weren’t ready, some wounds about intimacy still lingers inside you. But you did it, and you did it out of spite and pettiness. Which is far from the sex that you always yearn for. 

You pulled yourself up, sitting on the bed as your hands trailed on your naked body. Feeling every inch that Jay saw underneath his dim room. You were shaken by the thought that you didn’t notice that Jay had returned. 

Jay turns on the lampshade, but it was enough for him to see the panicked expression of yours. Hurriedly, he approaches you, sinking on the bed as he stares at you. 

“You’re crying,” Jay tried to swipe off the tears but you flinched, making him withdraw. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling like an idiot as you aggressively wiped the tears aways. “I didn’t — I don’t know what got in me.” 

“Did I hurt you? Oh my god, I’m sorry if I was being too rough —”

“No! No you didn’t,” you assured, grabbing his hands and squeezing it lightly. You let out a deep sigh before giving him a smile. “You were gentle to me Jay. it’s just — It’s just I had a hard time accepting intimacy from others and I was just shocked that we had sex.” 

“Is it because of your ex?” he asked softly. 

You only nod, “yeah, I just lost trust in romance and intimacy but here I am.” 

Jay became quiet for a minute. Heart beating with guilt as he looks at you with a worried expression. You only chuckle lightly as you squeezed his hands again. 

“I enjoyed the sex Jay, I was just overwhelmed suddenly,” you assured once again. “If it makes you feel better, because of you, I am slowly starting to trust romance once again.” 

“I’m glad that I can make you feel safe again,” Jay said with a genuine tone. He leans to give you a quick kiss on your lips. “Come on now, let me take care of you.”

After cleaning your body and changing into some new clothes, you and Jay snuggled underneath the new sheets he put on. His arms wrapped around your body while you lean against his chest.

You two remained in that position. You can feel nothing but his heart beating at a rapid speed, making you smile a bit. Jay’s hands brushing your hair as if he was lulling you to sleep. 

“Y/n,” he called out, you only hummed in response. 

“I like you…like genuinely,” he mumbled, pulling you closer to his touch. “I just want to say that because I’m afraid that you think that I took you out on multiple dates just to have sex with you.” 

You didn’t say a word, you remained frozen as Jay continued brushing your hair. 

“I didn’t even plan this, I just want to cook you dinner,” Jay lightly chuckles. “You don’t have to say anything though. I know that you’re not ready for a serious relationship, but I’m content with what we have.” 

And with that, Jay kisses the top of your head.

“Goodnight y/n.”

The room became silent. You had assumed Jay had drifted to sleep while you remained there, eyes wide with heart beating at an abnormal pace. Jay’s words had pierced through your heart and it left you confused, wondering where your stand is now. 

It was clear that you still have issues about your past. But with how quick you were to open to Jay, you’re now thinking if some of your actions were genuine and not just because you did it out of spite and revenge. 

But you weren’t able to draw your conclusion that night. Minutes into your pondering, your eyes became heavy — drifting you to sleep. 

-

Your relationship with Jay has become a newsworthy gossip that students can talk about aside from their studies. So what happens when the two of you attend the Decelis a few days later with hickeys and bite marks all over your necks? It added fuel to the fire of course.

“I thought it’s not obvious, I worked hard to cover it this morning,” you complained. 

“It’s a bit visible but what surprised you is Jay, he is wearing it like a badge of honor,” Yunjin shared and you could only let out a sigh. 

You should be proud about it. You shouldn’t have covered it with makeup because you wanted to show Yoomi that you had sex with Jay. Jay’s shameless about sleeping with you, and you should be happy because it’ll just irritate Yoomi more, but you only felt nothing but a gut-wrenching feeling about it.

Perhaps Jay’s words still linger in your mind. The next morning, Jay acted like nothing happened, he even cooked you breakfast. Of course, there were subtle changes like the way Jay became more affectionate to you but it just drags you even more. 

How long can you stretch this plan of yours? Jay was serious about you, while you…you don’t even know where your stand is. You could only mindlessly brush your hair in front to hide your marks before exiting the girls’ restroom. 

As you enter your classroom, you can feel the stabbing glares from your former friends. You ignored the way they gave you a disgusted look as you sat on the last row along with Yunjin. 

Yoomi then enters the classroom, her feet stomping heavily like she wanted to have her presence known. You only lowered your head as you opened your Ipad to check any missed readings for today’s course.

You didn’t need to lift your head to know that you’re being talked to by Yoomi, the whispers were loud enough and you could hear the snarky remarks from them. Followed by a few laughter and comments of how ‘shameless’ you are to show up in class with indecent marks on your neck. 

It’s as if Yoomi didn’t do that too many times to count. But of course, that’ll never cross their mind.

Soon, the professor entered the classroom and the class fell into silence. You focused your attention on your professor’s lecture, tapping lightly on your apple pen to focus. 

All you want to do after is to rest and sleep even though it’s only a Tuesday. You feel your body weary and tired. All the energy from dating Jay had already drained out from you and you’re thinking of maybe ditching him just for a week.

You were walking like a zombie as you exited the building when Yunjin suddenly grabbed your arms harshly. 

“What —” you weren’t able to ask when your eye caught the scene. 

Yoomi’s talking to Jay. She’s saying something that you knew isn’t pleasant because of the way Jay’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Should you —” Yunjin wasn’t able to finish her sentence when you snapped your arms from her touch and approached the two. 

“Jay,” you called out, catching the attention of the two. 

“Oh there she is,” Yoomi said with a mocking tone. “I was just telling Jay about the truth.”

You furrowed your forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“That you’re dating him just to get back to me,” Yoomi said with full confidence. 

You laughed in disbelief, trying to cover your nervous heart as you watched Yoomi’s face turn confused. 

“Why would I even do that? Come on Yoomi, we’re in college, not in high school. Things like that are so immature,” you smoothly said, even shrugging to make yourself more convincing. 

“You know I like Jay! What else would you date him huh!?” Yoomi said frustratedly. You didn’t expect her to immediately be frustrated about it.

“To meet new people?” you stated with obvious. “You think I’ll just let myself be depressed after my breakup? We’re just casually seeing each other, nothing more.” 

“You think I’m stupid!? Everyone knows that you’re not even ready for a relationship, so why are you suddenly seeing Jay —”

“Just stop please,” Jay rebutted, making you glance at him. 

“I know you Yoomi, just stop with the nonsense, okay? I like y/n, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Jay explained.

You can see the way Yoomi’s smile dropped. The way Jay talked to her like she’s a lost puppy being chased away. You wanted to smile, maybe smirked at her just to get back to her but you composed yourself instead.

Jay grabs your hand and the two of you leave the scene. You turned around and eyed Yunjin who only gave you a thumbs up.

While Yoomi? She stood there shocked. 

You two reached his car. As you two went inside the vehicle that’s when your heart started to beat nervously. Jay was utterly quiet and his serious expression still hasn’t melted. You gave him a glance before you looked down.

Jay quietly turns on the engine of the car. Not one of you had spoken, and the car had been in utter silence throughout the whole drive. You didn’t notice that you reached your apartment until Jay parked the car in front of it, you remained seated in the passenger seat, waiting for his next move.  

“Tell me that it wasn’t true,” Jay spoke, breaking the ice. 

“Why didn’t you ask me that earlier?” you asked instead. 

“I don’t want to give Yoomi the satisfaction that she won,” Jay clicks his tongue. “I know that you hate her so much and maybe, what she’s saying is true.” 

You could only glance at the window. Not now. You always thought that your plan would be foolproof. Everything is so casual that Jay wouldn’t suspect a thing. That the truth won’t come out and you’ll bring it to your grave. 

Yoomi really has to ruin everything. And you don’t have the heart to lie to Jay too.

“It's true,” you confessed, sinking deeper into the leather seats. 

You can see the way Jay’s jaw slacked. His hands on the wheels tightened. “So when I approached you at the bar —”

“I recognized you, you were Yoomi’s first love, and I don’t know why I let my pettiness decide that maybe, it’s not a bad idea to date you just to shove Yoomi that she can’t have you.”

“So you use me?” Jay pointed out

“Not really,” you mumbled. “Jake told me —”

“Jake knows!?”

“And he told me to not hurt you!” you shouted. “Because you’re Jake’s friend and I don’t want to hurt you! Yes, I always thought that this was a bad idea but I just can’t sit all day seeing Yoomi happy with Yeonjun while I suffer even though they’re the ones who hurt me! That’s why I dated you because you approached me first which is something that Yoomi never experienced!”

You were catching your breath as you shut your eyes down, preventing the tears from falling down. You can feel your hands becoming cold, heart beating in a rapid manner that you don’t know if it’s the nervous breakdown or just you processing your word vomit. 

“So none of what we had was true?” you froze for a moment. Opening your eyes to look at Jay who’s staring at you. You became locked in his deep gaze as his question kept replaying in your mind — it was something that you’ve been pondering ever since you had your date with Jay. 

Were you mixing your emotions with your intention? Has there been any moment where you’re with Jay that felt real and you didn’t have Yoomi on your mind? As you kept on staring at Jay you only felt nothing but guilt for hurting him. 

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “I don’t know Jay, we were supposed to be casual.”

“So you never had feelings for me? What happened a few nights ago, it wasn’t real?” Jay asked once again, voice cracking at the end. 

“From the start Jay, you knew that I’m not ready for a serious relationship,” you pointed out, tone becoming serious.

“You didn’t answer my question y/n, do you even like me?” 

And you didn’t leave your gaze at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate to get an answer from you. You frustratedly brushed your hair, tugging it harshly to keep you sane. 

“I’m sorry Jay, I just don’t know what love feels like anymore,” you answered honestly. “How can you think about whether I like you or not, when I hurt you?” 

“I didn’t care about that, use me whatever you want, I don’t care anymore,” Jay breathes, his tone becoming more desperate. “I don’t want to lose you again.” 

You only shake your head in disagreement. “Jay, you’re just hurting yourself even more. You can’t love someone who’s still broken from her past relationship. See how much Yoomi hurted me? You don’t know how much I was praying for her downfall and when you walked into my life — you were the answer to my prayer.” 

“That doesn’t matter, I wanted to help you if it’ll make you happy. Just let me be there for you —”

“Jay,” you gave him a bitter smile. “You deserve a girl that’s full enough to reciprocate your feelings. I can’t give you that.”

“You’re pushing me away?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “The cat’s out of the bag isn’t it? There’s no reason for me to keep on seeing you.” 

“Please y/n —”

“I can’t continue doing this especially when you know the truth, it just hurts both of us.”

You didn’t let Jay say another word. You quickly opened the door of his car and ran towards your apartment. You didn’t even bother looking back at his car, you went straight towards the elevator, pressing the 3rd button rapidly.

As soon as you reached your apartment, door shutting down lightly, you removed your shoes and walked sheepishly towards the living room. It didn’t take you to reach the couch for you to break down. Knees weakening as you let the tears fall down. 

If everything was just for revenge, then why are you crying? If everything wasn’t real for you, then why does it hurt more than what Yoomi and Yeonjun did to you? You feel so tired and helpless as you sit on the ground, regretting everything that you have done. 

Maybe you shouldn't have interfered with karma and let them do their own things. Maybe if you weren’t so impatient, then you would’ve just waited for Yoomi’s downfall. Good things come to those who wait, right? The universe must really hate you so much that it backfired on you immediately. 

As those thoughts sinked in your mind, tears continued to fall. You were sobbing so hard that you didn’t hear the door opening. 

“Y/n!? We just saw Jay’s car leaving —”

Yunjin and Jake stopped when they saw you on the floor. You turned around to them and both felt deja vu. It’s the same look that you had when you caught Yoomi and Yeonjun. 

“I’m sorry Jake,” it was the first thing that you said. “I hurt Jay —”

Jake didn’t say a word. Instead, he walks towards you to pull you to a hug, making you sob harder as you can feel his hands patting your back. And as if it wasn’t enough, Yunjin approached you too and wrapped her arms around your back. Her head leaning against your shoulder as she brushes your hair to calm you down.

-

The following day, you show up to the class like it was a normal day. Thanking Yunjin’s makeup skills to help you conceal any fragments that show that you cried. The classroom was full already, the back row seat left unoccupied which you and Yunjin sat on.

“He won’t stop?” Yunjin whispered, eyeing your phone screen. There were no notifications, but your wallpaper of you standing in front of the jellyfish aquarium remained. That photo was taken by Jay. 

Jay hasn't stopped sending you a message since yesterday. He wanted to talk to you, maybe he was asking for closure or something but you had enough. — and yet, instead of blocking Jay’s number, you put your phone notifications on silent mode.

“He already did,” the last time Jay sent you a message was this morning. Saying he won’t bother you anymore because Jake told him so, but he’ll be waiting for your message. 

“You won’t talk to him anymore?” your friend asked. 

You only shake your head, “I can’t face him anymore.” 

Yunjin didn’t say a word, she simply nodded as she gave you an assuring pat on the back, making you chuckle. 

As the day continued, you couldn’t help but dart your eyes on Yoomi in the middle of the class. She's seated on the second row like the good student she was, jotting down notes on her notebook, even interrupting the professor’s lecture at any chance that she could to ask questions or give her insights. 

You always knew that her intentions of telling Jay was out of jealousy, but what did she gain from it? Did she want you to suffer more? There were multiple times that it crossed your mind why Yoomi did it to you. And this isn’t just about Jay, it’s also about Yeonjun. What does Yoomi even want from you? 

“So I was right? You did use Jay,” and maybe, your questions may be answered when Yoomi approaches you first. Not half of the class had left the room and she’s already cornering you. 

“You won’t leave me alone, won’t you?” you snarled, feeling irritated than ever. You didn’t mind that there were audiences that were watching, your old friends near the teacher’s table, waiting for Yoomi, while Yunjin stood beside you. 

“Just admit it y/n.” 

“Don’t push me Yoomi, you had the fucking audacity to approach and taunt me when you’ve done worst things to me,” you barked at her. 

“That’s why it makes sense that you used Jay, to get back to me right!? You knew from the start —”

“Yoomi, I’m telling you this now while I’m being rational, but I don’t give a fuck about you anymore from the moment I saw you at Yeonjun’s dorm, and you should stop giving a shit about me and my life. You have Yeonjun, right? And even if you two are not together, you will never have a chance with Jay.” 

“So, that makes you better than me? Because Jay likes you?” she scoffed, but you can hear in her tone that she was hurt. 

Your forehead creased, “this isn’t some competition Yoomi, you have everything, Yeonjun, our friends — and maybe wake up for once, the universe doesn’t revolve around you.” 

“You don’t understand y/n is that Jay is the only person that I had loved ever since junior high, do you know how much it hurts that no matter what I do, he just doesn’t look at me? And then you came along and suddenly he’s all over you. What did Yeonjun and Jay see in you? I don’t understand.” She vented out. 

Never would you think that Yoomi would be insecure about you. You always see yourself as a normal college girl. Decent looks, smart enough to get a decent average, and a bit introverted. There’s not much thrill in your life aside from partying on Friday night on rare occasions. You blend on the walls just like you want to. 

Yoomi is different. She’s everything. She’s pretty, always has the cutest aesthetic. Had an impressive track record of grades, and extra-curricular. She’s also an active student in Decelis, her organizations are too many to count, and everyone knows and likes her. 

Yoomi has the spotlight, then why on earth is she still after your shadow? Even after stealing everyone from you, it’s still not enough for her.

“That’s not my problem anymore Yoomi,” you told her, tone becoming colder. “It’s not my fault that not everyone find you lovable.” 

Yoomi gasped. Her eyes started to water. It shocked her when those words came out of your mouth. She has been used to praises, to people showering her with love. Yoomi thinks that she can still manipulate you, but that’s where her assumptions went wrong. Now, it was a wrong move to confront you — especially when your bottled-up hatred for her can burst out any minute. 

“That was harsh y/n,” she mumbled, trying to hold back her tears. 

“You shouldn’t have provoked me,” you angrily said. “You want me to admit it? Fine, I did date Jay for fun, and he was such a dream. The dates, his affection – god he was such a gentleman, and the sex? It was so fucking good, and he looks so fucking hot underneath me.”

Yoomi rendered speechless, mouth open as she was shaking due to shock while you only stared at her angrily. 

“And even after telling him the truth — everything, he still wants me. He still came back running after me. You think that telling him the truth yesterday will make him look at you? Congrats because he did, but that was because he was annoyed by you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m done with him, maybe this time you can have him, since you like picking up the trash that I threw just like what you did with Yeonjun,” you gave Yoomi a smile. “Just remember this one, Yeonjun settled on you because you’re a naive girl who’ll throw herself at any guy that looks at her. You want to know our differences? I know my worth while you’re pathetic because you crave for any guy’s attention.” 

That’s when Yoomi burst into tears, loud and harsh that it made you scoff in disbelief. You only signaled Yunjin to leave, making her grab her bag as you and her watch your old friends circle around Yoomi, comforting her and shooting glares at you. You didn’t bother glancing at them as you and Yunjin walked out of the room.

Did it lift off a weight from your shoulder? No, you felt yourself more slumped than ever, thoughts were running through your mind as you exited the building. You glanced at Yunjin who placed her arms around your shoulder, shaking you lightly as you two began walking towards the university gate. 

“She’s such a drama queen,” Yunjin said with an annoyed tone. “But I didn’t expect you to be so harsh.”

“That’s light for me, I could’ve said worse,” you stated. Your attention shifted up to the sky to see that dark clouds had become to cover the blue sky. Your lips turn into a straight line as you think about how the sky is sharing its empathy with you. 

The weather in Decelis had become gloomy. The rainy season had started and the cold temperature seemed like a hug that you needed. 

Days after the confrontation, class has been suspended due to strong rainstorms. It was a perfect time for you to ponder about your senior year. Stuck inside your apartment flat with both your roommates, you found solace in the loud raindrops drizzling on the street.

You sat on the wooden chair, legs stretched on railings of the balcony. You were listening to some music on your phone with a half-lit stick of cigarette between your fingers. It was a rare case for you to smoke, only during your night outs wherein you need to sober up before going home. But in these moments, you feel like you need to take a few smokes to relieve your stress. 

“Hey,” you turned around immediately to hear a masculine voice. Seeing Jake in his hoodie and pajamas, his hair a mess and he’s not wearing his glasses. 

“Should I stop?” you asked, raising the stick, but your roommate only shook his head, sitting on the empty chair beside you and also raising his legs on the railings. 

“You seem to be lost in thoughts, like a poet stuck in a writer’s block,” Jake teases, making you laugh. 

“Wish that’s my problem,” you only let out a sigh before blowing a few puffs. 

“Why, still feel guilty about what happened?” he asked, and this time, you shake your head.

“I just wonder if Yoomi ever thought of me as a friend,” you confessed. “Or someone who she competes discreetly.” 

Jake didn’t say a word, he only stared at you as if he was waiting for more. 

“It’s not hard to wonder about it, after all, we were friends for two years and a half too. So I wonder, during those years, did she ever treat me as her friend?” 

“Well, do you regret your friendship with her?” Jake asked you. 

“It’s hard to think about it when all I can feel about her is hate,” you admitted. “Maybe my talk with her a few days just gave me a clarification that she was insecure about me, then it struck me if she ever treated me as a friend.”

“Well, friends don’t steal their friend’s boyfriend,” your roommate pointed out, making you glance at him. “That surely answers your question.” 

You didn’t say a thing. Jake’s right, that should’ve been the clue. And to think that Yoomi never brought up why you cut her off and all she can point out was that you dated Jay shows that she never valued your friendship — not even once. 

You flicked off the butt of the cigarette stick and placed it on the railings. You wanted to smoke another stick but you sat on the chair instead, deeply immersed with the rain. 

“You know, Jay is still waiting for you,” Jake opened up.

But he was only met with silence from you. 

“You know you can’t avoid everything right?” Jake pointed out. “You’re like this with Yoomi and Yeonjun, and while you had a valid reason to not confront them, Jay’s different, you left him alone in the dark.”

There it is. You hate that Jake was able to pick it up. You know that you became avoidant to people ever since you got betrayed. You kept your circle small, afraid that the more you let people in your life, the more chances they’ll hurt you.

When Yeonjun and Yoomi went behind your back, you didn’t bother asking for any explanation. Completely cutting the two off because you know that it’ll hurt more if you hear their side. And whatever shitty reason they can come up will deem useless. 

Jay on the other hand, entered your life because you wanted revenge. But before he could hurt you, you hurt him first — and for you that’s even worse. 

“Jake, I hurt Jay, I can’t even look him in the eyes without feeling any guilt,” you explained. 

“I talked to him a few days ago and he understands where you are coming from, he’s not mad y/n,” Jake added. 

“And is that supposed to make me feel okay?” you whispered. “I don’t know what to feel about everything.”

“It takes time,” your roommate pats your shoulder lightly, giving you a quick smile. “But just so you know, you don’t have to live in hatred forever, who knows, maybe you can learn to love again.”

That’s when you shifted your gaze at Jake, he only gave you a warm smile, making you chuckle bitterly. 

“You think so?”

“I just think that you’ve become happier when Jay was around,” Jake pointed out. “Yunjin can see it too, and you might not notice it because you’re too busy with your revenge, but something shifted when Jay entered your life.”

You were stunned, staring at Jake who shifted his gaze back to the pouring rain. Out of the three of you, Jake has always been the most rational one. He was like a brother to you, and while Yunjin was your chaotic other-half, Jake has always been there to watch over you two. 

“You think I deserve Jay?” you whispered, bare audible.

“I think you deserve someone who will love you so wholly that he’ll pick up every broken piece of you,” Jake replied. “And I know that Jay is that kind of guy.” 

-

Weeks passed and the passing hurt felt now like a blur to you. 

You busied yourself with your subjects, focusing on your academics and papers which was your coping mechanism back then. It was deja vu all over again but rather than letting yourself swallow in guilt, you focused your attention on something else. 

Midterm exams are done, and you managed to pass your requirements with ease despite the stress you’ve been through. Now, you feel like a normal student who’s worried about her academics again. 

The door of the classroom swung open, your professor entered it with a tense atmosphere following her. No greetings or bright smiles, making the room falter in silence. If it wasn’t enough, she slams her essay papers, loud enough to flinch the whole room. 

“I’m so disappointed,” she started. “Twenty-five years of teaching here in Decelis, never would’ve thought that you’ll do this in my course.”

The whole room falls under a few whispers and murmurs. You glanced at Yunjin who merely shrugged. 

“You know that plagiarism is a grave offense in our department? We pride ourselves in our students’ intelligence and perspective but here we are — and it’s not only a few paragraphs, but the whole paper. This is so disappointing,” she grabs the paper, a bit crumpled but you can see the huge ‘X’ mark on the paper. 

“Ms. Han Yoomi,” she declares, making you flinch. You glanced at Yunjin who’s eyes were about to pop out of its socket. Your friend grabs your friend, calming herself from doing something petty, while your mouth forms a small gap as you cover it with your hand. All you could feel was shock, heart thumping like a rabbit’s eager foot. 

“You’re one of our scholars right? Plus, you mentioned that you’re running for honors? This is so disappointing,” your professor shakes her head as she places Yoomi’s paper down. 

Yoomi stood up from her seat way too fast that the chair fell down, causing a loud thud that echoed through the room. But Yoomi couldn’t care less. “Ma’am, I can explain —”

“You can explain it to the Dean Ms. Han, you know the consequences of your action,” she cut off. “Please follow me, and the rest of you, please take your midterm papers and consider my comments for your revisions for the final paper.”

The whole room watched as your professor walked out of the door, while Yoomi stood there frozen. It took a little nudge from her friend for her to move, grabbing her bag as she walked out of the room with her head lay low. When both of them left the room, whispers began to swarm around the classroom, just like you, everyone was surprised that Yoomi would do such a thing. 

“Holy shit!” Yunjin whisper-shouted. “Holy fucking shit! I didn’t expect her to do that!”

“Fuck, what the actual fuck —” you let out a deep breathe, trying to calm yourself. “I can’t believe it, karma’s fucking real.” 

Yunjin only laughs, slapping your arms as you try to conceal your laughter. “No, because that was fucking dumb of her, I can’t believe that she would do that.”

“Right! She always pride herself in writing papers even though her writing fucking sucks, but she plagiarized!? That’s so fucking stupid of her.” 

You know that it was mean. Laughing at someone’s mistake that may cause her academic disruption, but after everything that happened to you? Yoomi will never have a chance to get past an offense that she stupidly did. 

Karma’s finally after her and you know the result of offense. If no appeal were done, she can get suspended and worst — be removed from receiving honors. All her pride and dreams came crashing down in just a glimpse. And the good thing about it was that it’s all her fault. You didn’t have to raise a finger for it to happen. 

You didn’t have to do anything. It slowly sinked in your mind that karma will eventually get back to her. It slumped you that if you had the patience to wait, you didn’t have to involve an innocent person in making your ex-best friend miserable. 

You should be happy that karma got Yoomi, but it was only a passing adrenaline of satisfaction that Yoomi’s idiocracy got back at her. If this is what you’ve been praying for, why does the guilt remain on you?

It’s been weeks and yet, he’s still on your mind. You wonder, is he waiting for you? You hate confrontations. You were never good with words and dealing with people, but you couldn’t help to think about Jay and how you left him in the dark. You know what you have to do. 

You found yourself in front of his apartment door. Hands shaking and heart beating at an abnormal pace. Jay had agreed to talk to you, and that means there’s no turning back now. You pressed the doorbell and after a few rings, the door swung open. 

You stood there frozen, seeing Jay in a large t-shirt and sweatpants, hair disheveled like he just woke up. Your words got stuck on your throat, an awkward atmosphere hovering between the two of you. 

“I —”

“Come in,” he said with a soft tone which made your heart skip a beat. Your foot moved on its own and entered his apartment, removing your shoes as you Jay waited for you. 

“So,” Jay started as soon as you two reached the living room, clearing his throat. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

You only fiddled with your fingers, looking down because you can’t even face Jay. “Yoomi, got suspended today for plagiarising her midterm paper.” 

“What?” Jay asked, disbelief. 

“She got a two week suspension and got stripped off from her scholarship,” you added. “I should be happy because karma finally got her, but somehow it didn’t feel like I won.”

That’s when you look at Jay, confused yet waiting for you to say another word.

“Because I hurt you Jay. I was so impatient for Yoomi’s downfall that I resorted to using you. I dated you because I was petty because you’re a big part in Yoomi’s life but she can’t have you — but I can.” your hands become shaky, you are harsh with your fingers as you find yourself catching for breath. 

“And I’m sorry because you were so genuine about dating me, even when I told you that I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, you understood where I am coming from but all I did was hurt you,” you took a deep breath. 

“y/n,” Jay called out but you chose to ignore it. Glancing at him as your eyes started to water. 

“And I understand if you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry if I ran away — I always ran away from everything, even from Yeonjun and Yoomi, I didn’t bother asking for their explanation but you…you deserve it Jay.”

That’s when Jay approached you, pulling you to a hug that only made you cry. You punched his chest, trying to push him away but he only tightened his hold on you. 

“You should be angry but why aren’t you? Why!?” You managed to stitch some words, and instead of answering you, Jay brokes out from the hug, caressing your cheeks as he looked at you fondly.

“I’ve known you for so long,” Jay confessed. “You’re always been with Yoomi. I know Yoomi, we’re from the same town but…she’s just not my type.” 

You only stared at Jay, eyes widened.

“You know me?” you asked, shocked. 

Jay only laughs, “face? Yeah I know you, but name and other things? Not really. But it’s not hard to remember the girl who looks like she doesn't want to be there whenever she attends our gig.”

The comment made you stifle a laugh, making Jay smile. “I found you cute and pretty, and although it hurts that you’re always on your phone during our gig, I still find myself looking at you. You completely contrast’s Yoomi’s loud cheer, that’s why I was drawn to you.”

“I wonder, “when will she be able to look at us?” then I discovered that you had a boyfriend, and not gonna lie it crushed my heart.” Jay jokingly said. “Then you stopped showing up to our gigs, and Yoomi was with another friend. I thought, maybe you were spending your time with your boyfriend, and maybe I should stop this silly crush of mine.” 

You became quiet. Thoughts became afloat. It all makes sense now. From the start, Yoomi never really had the chance with Jay. All the times she told you that Jay kept on glancing at her was just her assumption — Jay has been looking at you all along. 

His words, you recall the way Jay told you that he doesn’t want to lose you again. You thought that your first meeting was at the bar but no, he has been looking for you for years now. 

“So, when you approached me at the bar —”

“It was like fate telling me that, “there she is, this is your chance!” And I didn’t want to waste it.” 

“But I hurt you Jay,” you pointed out. 

But Jay merely shrugs. “No, from the start, you made it clear to me that you didn’t want a serious relationship, I respected that and I was happy with what we had. I was happy just being on your side.” 

Tears started to fall from your eyes again, you couldn’t help but to cry making Jay pull you to his arms again, wrapping you gently as he pats your head.

It couldn’t sink in your mind that aside from your roommates, there is someone who is willing to be by your side despite all you’ve been through. You always thought that you’re undeserving of finding other people to love you, but it just went to your mind that meeting Jay wasn’t a way for you to get back to your ex-best friend — it was a way for you to find another person who will love you again. 

“I hate you, you were supposed to hate me for what I did,” you said between your cries. 

“How can I? Your reason is valid though, and if you told me from the start, I would’ve done worse, maybe kiss you in front of Yoomi just to spite her.” Jay joked, which led you to jabbing his chest, he lightly scowled as you glared at him. 

“I’m serious,” you told him. 

“And I’m also serious,” Jay lightly cups your cheeks, swiping any teardrop from your eyes. “And I’m not saying this because I like you, but because it’s just some petty revenge right? It’s not like you’re planning their murder.” 

“I could if murder was legal,” you spat. “Would you still join me?”

And instead of saying anything, Jay kisses the tip of your nose, “anything for my pretty girl.”

“I couldn’t believe you,” you mumbled. “After everything, you’re still here for me.”

“How can I? I’ll be with you at any chance fate will give me.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re spiritual enough to believe in fate?” 

“You taught me how to.”

Silence swallowed you two. You only stared at Jay who’s gazing at you fondly. Then he smiles, grazing your cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you.” Jay confessed. 

Your eyes widen by his words, staring at him speechless as he never left his gaze at you. 

“I love you so much that it didn’t hurt me that you used me, it hurt me that you had to resort to that plan because you were hurting so much.” Jay explained. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll show to you that you can still be loved, and I don’t care if you’re still broken by your past, I’ll help you gain your trust to love again.” 

You only let out a sigh, glancing at Jay who’s eagerly waiting for your answer. That’s when you lean against his cheeks, smiling as you start, “thank you Jay, for showing me that I can still be loved.” 

“Maybe meeting you wasn’t a way for karma to tell me to get back to Yoomi, but it was fate’s way to tell me that I can still learn to love someone. And while I was stupid to be focused too much on my anger, I forgot that I should’ve used my energy reciprocating your feelings to me.”

“And we can take it slow, I’m in no rush —”

“No Jay, I was just too stupid to realise that I’d fallen for you, that there were moments that felt genuine for me, and I want us to be more real, without thinking about Yoomi or getting back to her.” 

You saw how Jay slowly sank-in what you just said, eyes widening as his hold to your face tightens. 

“Are you serious?” he breathes. 

You only nod as a response, letting out a soft laughter as Jay’s expression brightens more. He could only let out a raspy gasp, words stuck on his throat as he pulled you closer for a hug. 

“I can’t believe — fuck, I'm just happy – god, I can’t believe this,” he said, choking in his own words.

“I’m sorry if it took me long.” 

“You’re worth the wait,” Jay whispered. ,

Breaking from the hug, Jay found himself staring at you. You only let out a small chuckle as you found yourself staring at Jay’s eyes. He lightly brushes your hair before planting a kiss on top of your head, then sealing your lips with lips — an action that tugs your heart with ease. You could only kiss him back, finding yourself smiling between it. 

Because the first time ever since you got your heart broken, you found yourself genuinely happy. 

-

Epilogue. 

“Congratulations to us!” Yunjin hugs you tightly, making you chuckle as you hold onto your graduation cap tightly. 

Senior year passed by with ease. You found yourself juggling your thesis papers and internships along with course subjects. There were gray days and you lost count of the breakdowns that you had throughout the year, but here you are, officially graduating with honors.

“Congrats love,” Jay said, handing you a bouquet of lilies which made you smile. 

“Thank you love,” you said before planting a kiss on him.

Your relationship with Jay was a second chance for you. Although you two still kept it unlabeled in the first few months because there were parts of you that were still struggling to open up to him, Jay was ever patient with you. 

But now, you two became official, and you look forward to what waits for you two outside college.

“Congrats to you two, I know you two can make it,” Jake said, handing you two bouquets of flowers which made Yunjin fake cry. 

“I can’t believe that we’re no longer roommates! I’ll miss annoying you two,” Yunjin said between her fake sobs, slinging her arms to you and Jake and pulling you two for a hug.

“You’re so dramatic,” you said, but your smile widened as you hugged Yunjin back, which Jake did the same. 

“But before that, I have something to spill!” Yunjin excitedly said, breaking out from the hug. 

“Do you guys know why Yoomi isn’t here?” she asked, and you only shrugged. 

Now that you think of it, throughout your senior year, Yoomi still managed to get through her academics but there is wariness around her now because of her case. She didn’t bother you anymore either. Senior year became a peaceful year for you. 

“Just tell us already,” Jake impatiently said, making Yunjin let out an evil chuckle, which meant that her story is diabolical. 

“Apparently, she wasn’t able to graduate because the academic coordinators had learned that she slept with our Dean.”

“What the fuck —”

“Are you serious!?” you shouted, “no fucking way, where did you learn that?”

“Her ‘friends’ of course,” Yunjin smirked. “Apparently, that’s the reason why she was able to maintain her scholarship. They only investigated it during graduation season and had confirmed it a few days ago.”

“So, she wasn’t able to graduate?” Jake asked. 

“And she’s expelled from Decelis, she can’t continue her studies here,” Yunjin added. 

“Now that’s much worse,” Jay added, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips. 

“And she fucking deserve it,” you mumble. “She finally got her karma.”

“Guess the universe has answered your prayers.”

You only stared at Jay, a soft smile curving on his lips, which made you smile wider. “I guess they did.” 

Everything now felt light. The thorn in your heart was gone. You finally graduated with honors, your roommates are there for you, and your ex-best friend got what she deserves. 

“Hey,” you called out Jay, shifting his attention to you. His right arm instinctively wraps around your waist. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, and you only shook your head.

“I love you,” you said.

Jay scoffs in disbelief, but the smile on his lips becomes wide as he leans into you for a kiss. “I love you too.” 

Of course, you had Jay by your side. You may have been praying for karma but it was fate who heard your prayers. Despite the mishaps you’ve faced, you were still thankful because you still found someone who will love you wholly.

[isoobie]

SWEETHEART, pjs

🐈 your boyfriend loves you loads ✶ downbad!jay & fem!rea ᵕ ᵕ fluff est rs

ㅋㅋ happiest birthday to my aicake this is dedicated to you @jjennuine i hope i’m not too late .. TT

[sjyuns]

SOFT SPOT ┆ A PARK JONGSEONG ONESHOT

SYNOPSIS! love is a crazy thing, and you’d always been absorbed in the idea of it, 100% committed as your school’s cupid but cupid deserves love too, right?

GENRE! strangers to lovers, basketballer!jay (there’s barely any basketball in this), mutual pining, simp!jay, high school au

WARNINGS! some sexual innuendos, drinking, partying, mentions of cheating and abortion

WORD COUNT! 9OOO+

MIKAELA’S! inspired by some book i read i think… this is from my old blog eumpapas, i’m not copying anyone please… also happy mega birthday to the man who made me start watching iland🙏🏻 DNA jay this one is for you.

BEING cupid isn’t easy, and it’s definitely not a task for the weak. Carrying around a heavy basket of heart shaped tipped arrows and a bow slung behind you as you matchmake, aim, and shoot, injecting pink that knits into a person’s bones.

Many people applaud you — for so intelligently pairing up matches together. But what they don’t realise is the immense effort it takes. Cupid may be an icon of love, but you barely have one of your own. And you wish, that there is another cupid out there aiming their love tipped arrow at you.

i. ugh, men

The piece of paper in your hands rubs against your palms as you take yet another glance at the capitalised name written in neon pink before looking back up at the blond hair boy in front of you.

“Jay? I mean- not discriminating or anything but you want me to link you up with Park Jongseong?” You furrow your brows, looking at Jake with pure curiosity.

His eyes widen as he realises what this might have seemed like. “No, no,” he furiously shakes his head, “he’s my bro, what are you even talking about.”

You tilt your head as you scan the nervous footballer who’s too busy fidgeting in his seat to realise, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him so nervous — even more than before a crucial game, and you wonder what’s come over him.

“Jake, the neon pink sparkly pen? If you’re not in love with your best friend, what puts you in such a lovesick mood?” You ask, flapping the crumpled piece of paper at him as he sighs.

“Firstly, it’s a smiggle pink scented pen, get it right. And secondly, it’s not really about matchmaking, I just need your help with something.” He groans at the accusations you’ve pasted on him. 

You purse your lips, “Jake, you know I don’t do anything other than matchmaking. I would really like to help, but I’ve been a little tight on time recently.”

Before you can grab your bag from the small round coffee table, he swiftly brings his hands up, stopping you from leaving. His eyes held such desperation that your body seemed to move back down by itself.

“Look, this is kind of like matchmaking, think of it as helping a blossoming couple out. Please.” His plea of desperation squeezing your heart ever so slightly.

“Has this blossoming couple got something to do with you and that pretty best friend of yours?” You raise your eyebrows, as you shoot a knowing look at him. It wasn’t rocket science, and it didn’t take a genius to know that Jake was deeply in love, fully head over heels: entranced with his best friend. And as Cupid, no doubt you had such information at the back of your hand.

Jake holds back a smile by biting his lips, eyes darting away in fear of professing his love, “look, Jay’s just been such a cockblock recently, they’ve been friends for a while but nowadays they’ve been hanging out together a lot more. Alone. Do you understand how big of a crisis this is? All I need you to do is watch him, maybe use those matchmaking skills of yours to match him up with someone?”

You look at the pitiful state of the boy in front of you, with his hands constantly moving to brush his hair back in his withered stressful state. And you can’t help it — as someone who’s all about love, you find yourself agreeing to help him, even if you were already swarmed with four other couples to matchmake.

You find the list in your head getting longer as you ask Jake about Jay, the tiny book in your head that’s filled with possible matches seeming a little empty at Jake’s description of Jay’s ideal type, likes, and dislikes.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve heard about Jay, in fact it was probably about the nth time with the amount of girls who come swarming to you with bleak hope that you’d be able to matchmake them with him. And of course, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive — with his coveted status as the vice captain of the basketball team, and not to forget his matte black Porsche he drives to school everyday, it would be weird if he wasn’t popular.

But what’s all that when Park Jay had a dick for a personality. Well, at least that’s what the rumours say.

And you’re about to confirm it right here right now as you stand outside the sports hall, the squeaking of court shoes piercing through your ears as you stall by rechecking Jake’s text.

Jay’s at basketball practice till nine, maybe you can catch him there.

The time on your phone blares a bright ‘0925’, and you curse yourself for not having the guts to say no to Jake — because as much as you are Cupid, you’re also weak hearted, and you don’t know how to handle a devilishly handsome boy who’s said to have a bad attitude.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding, getting ready to push the door until it swings open from the other side and the vision in front of you turns from the freshly painted navy blue doors to a tall, lean boy with a number 99 plastered on the front of his jersey.

Holy shit, you think, and you wish you could duck around quickly and scurry away, yet your feet remain firmly planted to the ground as your eyes linger on the face in front of you.

“Something wrong, Cupid?” 

You open your mouth only to close it yet again. Because despite the harsh tone or recognition his voice held, you were mesmerised. You’ve only ever seen Jay from afar and now up close, he looks like a collection of violet-tinted heartbreak and soft silver snow — as the ferocious intensity he emits settles itself in the sharp dip of his cupid’s bow. His beauty is devastating, and your task is forgotten for a moment as you take in his black hair damp with sweat and the slender set of collarbones revealed by his jersey.

The boy looks like an angel and siren all at once, and fuck it if he isn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Even prettier than Lee Heeseung, the attractive basketballer you’ve known since middle school (who you had a tiny crush on back then.)

It takes you forty two seconds and Jay bending down to snap you out of your gaze. And you find yourself not being able to do anything but shift back as the boy smoothly ties your shoelaces which you must have left undone in a rush to reach here on time.

“Thanks,” you say honestly, voice too breathy as your veins pump with embarrassment. 

He smiles softly, “don’t mention it, wouldn’t want you to trip and fall, right?”

You pause, and you hate how awkward you are during unplanned encounters. “Right,” you say, stumbling over your own words, “I mean- uhm, yeah! Thanks, but- I could have tied them myself.”

Jay laughs, and it’s a little husky as you capture the sound. “Right. You’re cute when you ramble.”

Right now, you wished you possessed the charm you usually carried when talking to other targets — bold and feminine. But with a mere sentence, Jay had the ability to reduce you to a young girl talking to an infatuation for the first time. And you think the rumours are false, because the boy in front of you seemed nothing like the playboy you’ve heard about: barely seeming to have an ounce of smooth confidence in his bones.

“You’re here for me, aren’t you Cupid? Did someone want you to matchmake me with them? Or are you on some sort of mission?” His sudden change of tone throws you off, arrogance radiating off him as the look in his eyes change. Bolder, sharper.

You think that you’re an idiot, for falling for his innocent façade, for believing those rumours were fake. Because now Jay looks like he’s playing god, with a devil’s smirk etched onto his face. 

“Does the name Jake Sim ring a bell?” It amazes you how blunt he sounds, mouth tense and one corner slightly tilted down. And it pisses you off, how handsome he still seemed.

“He’s the captain of the soccer team,” you try, avoiding the question all together, “who doesn’t know him.”

The boy in front of you seems unsatisfied, “not what I was asking and you know it,” he declines, a borderline genius glinting in his eyes. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He smirks, brushing his hair back, “you’re telling me that my best friend didn’t hand you a note with my name on it, asking you to keep an eye on me?”

Fuck. How does he know?

You send him a cool grin — and thank goodness your usual calm and composed exterior is back — as you slowly walk towards him, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Not everything in life is about you Jay, so get lost.” You pause. “Please.”

A part of his tenacity amazes you when he fails to keep his mouth shut, and you feel annoyed at his stubborn persistence. “Everyone knows your little love business, Y/n,” Jay elaborates, making you grit your teeth. His voice is like liquid mercury, toxic yet smooth. “There’s always talk about a new happy couple and a pretty pretty girl who set them up.”

And as if on instinct, your hands move up to twirl the ends of your hair, “what about it, Park?”

“You’re telling me that Jake Sim didn’t meet you today? Look me in the eyes and say it.” 

You stare into the eyes of the boy who looks like he could be a model, heart betraying you as it escalates. “I didn’t meet Jake Sim at Starbucks today. Quit bothering me, alright?”

“I didn’t say it was Starbucks,” Jay states brazenly, his head tilting in princely arrogance as you watch a small smirk settle on the crook of his mouth. “I thought good girls like you never lie.”

“Fucking hell,” you breathe in sharply, “get lost.”

Jay tucks one hand into his pocket, tugging his lips into a small smile, “You go first, I’ll follow you.”

Your cheeks heat a dark shade of red as you dread to have to tell Jake that Jay knew of your deal.

“Wait,” he says as you turn, gently grabbing your wrists. He might seem a bit rough on the outside, with arrogance lining his collarbones, but when he touches you, it’s surprisingly soft. “Don’t tell him I know. All I’ve been doing is giving her advice about approaching Jake and I don’t want to ruin any surprise she might have planned.”

You nod slowly, pieces coming together in your head. “So you want me to be your double agent?”

Jay smiles, and if you were honest, it might have been the most genuine you’ve seen him today. “Why not? Not like you’d take the chances of spoiling a couple’s confession. Live a little.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, “I live a lot, Park, maybe more than you’ve ever lived.” You pause, “ and if you want me to, you should fix that attitude of yours. God knows how you bag girls acting like a dick.”

Jay presses his hands to his chest in mock pain. “Your words hurt, Cupid,” he pouts, eyes glistening, “so are you in?”

“Depends,” you admit, “maybe if you take me on a ride in that cool car of yours.”

He thinks for a moment. “Fine.”

A smile blooms on your lips, and you’re too triumphant to notice the way Jay’s breath hitches as he takes a small step backwards, as if your aura was too potent, too powerful for him to breathe in.

“Deal.”

ii. a short guide on handling a crazy heart

The last place you’d ever think of telling your best friend, Yunjin, about your encounter with a certain vice captain was in the bathroom of a stranger’s house, with the latest hits blaring into your eardrums. “He’s got a dick for a personality,’ you scream over the music as she fixes her hair in the mirror, “he’s arrogant, infuriating, and he doesn’t know when to stop.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” she replies, giving you a knowing look through the mirror, and you roll your eyes at her comment. “So what exactly did Jay want you to do again?” Yunjin’s eyebrows raise as she asks her question for the fifth time this week, and you think if your friend wasn’t so pretty, you would have purposefully messed up her hair in annoyance.

You sigh, “he wants me to be a double agent of some sort, he doesn’t want to ruin his hard work of giving advice,” you admit, “I’m practically sandwiched between two best friends.”

“Aw, you guys are like a pair of cupids,” Yunjin says thoughtfully, “you and Jay. And I guess it brings no harm. Though you might be pissed with his personality, someone has to get under that thick skin of yours. He might just be the one to do it.”

You shoot her the finger accompanied by a glare as the two of you finally exit the bathroom to the bustling scene of the party, with sweaty bodies swaying to the rhythm of music blasting from the speakers.

“Y/n!” A golden voice calls out, making you turn over your shoulder, to find Jake waving you over excitedly, with a tall boy dressed in all black beside him, leaning against the wall coolly as he gazes at you with hooded eyes.

There’s an ineffable feeling that crawls into your stomach when you see Jay, as if he held all the power in the world to crush you with a glance. “Come play beer pong with us, we need two more people.” Jake's voice goes through your ears before leaving through the other side as you nod aimlessly, eyes trained on Jay’s figure — lean back muscles that were visible through the shirt that hugged his figure, as you and Yunjin follow them into another room.

“Me and Jay against the two of you,” Jake grins as he nudges you by the shoulder to the other side of the ping pong table, a few familiar faces surrounding the area.

“I’m out, ask Heeseung to play instead,” Jay mutters under his breath, but you catch it despite the loud chatter amongst the crowd. And it dims the small excited flame burning in your heart.

You watch as Jake sighs, “come on bro, don’t be a party pooper. First Sunghoon ditches to go god knows where with that neighbour of his, and now you?” Jay moves to comb through his slicked back black hair, eyebrows furrowing as he calls Heeeung over.

Looking at Heeseung, you realise that Jay and him were two completely different kinds of beautiful: Heeseung had a sharp jawline and soft curves; Jay, on the other hand, had a kind of edge and arrogance constantly lining the corners of his mouth, and it’s unconventional. To say the least. Everything about him was to you.

“Come on Park, don’t spoil the fun,” you pitch into the conversation, as the three heads turn towards you, “or are you scared you’re going to get trashed by two girls?”

Jay mutters a chain of words under his breath as he steps out of the tiny circle they’ve made, towards you, his gaze centred on you. And it suddenly feels silent as Jay’s eyes start at the tips of your toes, sliding across the smooth expanse of your legs and past your torso, lingering on the slight curvature of your neck before landing on your lips. Your swallow is embarrassingly audible in the unusual quietness, but you soon clear your throat.

He’s so handsome it makes you want to scream. You hate how good he looks; you hate how he looks at you, like you’re something of his affections. And you hate yourself for actually liking the attention, because even though you always state that you hate him, you know it’s not true.

Jay just gets on your nerves.

“Fancy seeing you here, Cupid. Who knew you could ever look so stunning?” And just like that, the moment’s over.

“Shut the hell up, Park. All you have to do is throw a ball into a cup, or are your basketball skills that bad?” You challenge him, and Jay lets out a laugh: a real laugh that you want to hear again and again and again, because it sounds like silver music and he’s beautiful.

And you hate yourself and your feelings.

“If that's what you think,” he breathes, as he stares into your eyes, “let’s make a bet then. If I win, you have to come to a basketball game of mine — because you’ve clearly not been to one, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. And if you magically happen to win, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Maybe his car, maybe you could ask him to give you his car, you think as you set your mind on winning. Not one ounce of doubt that you’d be able to beat Jay, because despite not having attended one basketball game, you think that you had sufficient skill to win. He can’t be that good, right?

And once again Jay proves you wrong as he effortlessly scores cup after cup, and you’re buzzed, barely able to comprehend your surroundings as the crowd cheers his and Jake’s name. The only words you hear clearly is Jake’s extremely loud cry of excitement as Jay throws yet another ping pong ball into the last cup on your side of the table.

“See how it’s done, angel? I’m not vice captain for no reason,” he smirks as he rounds the table to your side. Though you’re half gone, you’re suddenly grateful for the dim lighting because you’d be caught dead by the boy next to you if he sees your flushed cheeks at the new nickname he’d just given you.

“Anyone told you not to randomly call strangers angel?” You hiss, as he gently wraps an arm around your waist, steadying your wobbling figure. Jay shrugs, and you huff out a breath, “it does something to them, okay?”

The boy looks down at you, thumb brushing over your cheeks — and you tell your weak heart to calm down, “what does it do, angel? Tell me,” he mutters under his breath, and he’s too close to you, because you can feel the weight of his words sink into your body as the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“It hurts me, them, right here,” you reply, closing your eyes to tame the nauseating feeling in your brain, as your finger points to your heart, “makes their heart go boom.”

You don’t see anything, but you can feel Jay’s hands wrapped carefully around the nape of your neck, fingers entangled in your hair, as the other cradles the smooth, glass-like skin of your jaw, thumbs once again brushing with a tantalising shimmer. His breath smells of sangria and mint, and the sensation is just warm as you’re cast unceremoniously under his addicting spell.

“Yeah?” He whispers, and you nod softly.

“Yeah,” you answer, “so stop it, whatever that was. It’s annoying.”

Your eyes open and you see Jay smirking in his trademark expression, and you click your tongue in annoyance, pretending as if your heart wasn’t about to jump out of your chest.

“But that’s what you are, aren’t you? Cupid - Angel, same thing.” He replies, and you’re about to answer, but decide not to as his words swirl around in your chest.

“What are you even doing here anyway?” you groan, changing to topic as you furrow your eyebrows, vision betraying you as Jay’s devilishly handsome face duplicates itself under intoxication. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drink when you were such a lightweight.

“Don’t think too hard, angel,” Jay teases, “or else your head will start hurting.”

“Shut up asshole,” you roll your eyes, trying to concentrate on the boy in front of you instead of the pounding in both your head and chest.

Jay grins, and you can see a little bit of evilish impurity and jaded sleekness — like a trained jaguar waiting to pounce. “Shut me up then,” he murmurs, “kiss me, angel.”

“If I kissed you, you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” you announce, and you busk in this moment because you’re sure you’d forget it tomorrow morning.

“And if I kissed you, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Your vision goes black.

You wake up buzzing out your mind, surprisingly in your own bed, with not a hint of remembrance of last night’s drunken conversation.

“Just get out, get some fresh air, it’s good for hangovers,” Yunjin says, all dolled up and ready to patronise the new cafe she’s been raving about, while you sit at the edge of your bed, staring daggers at her with your hair all messed up and head still spinning.

You groan, “are you insane,” your hand moving up to rub your eyes furiously, “must feel good not to be a lightweight.”

Maybe it’s your friend’s persuasion skills or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re easily persuaded because after ten minutes, you find yourself decently dressed and walking into the small diner situated around the corner as the striking ring of the bell pierces into your head, making you wince.

“Jake, fancy see you here again,” Yunjin shouts across the diner to a small four person booth where you see said boy’s head popping out. 

“Yunjin, Yn,” Jake waves, as Yunjin pulls you yet again to Jake, exactly like how she did yesterday night. “You know my best friend,” Jake introduces, staring at her as she waves, a bright smile that could bring a boy to his knees.

“Cupid or yn, right?” She asks, with clear confidence exuding out of her, “Jay’s cupid.”

You cough at her words, eyes darting to Jake’s face as you tilt your head in question. “Jay’s told me or well me and Jake about you.” She clears up, moving your suspicions away from her best friend.

“Right,” Jake chimes in, “surprised you’re still alive after yesterday. You knocked out mid conversation with Jay and he drove you and Yunjin home.”

“Come again,” you turn to look at Yunjin, eyebrows furrowed as she gives you a guilty look. 

“He had a nice car, and he offered, what could i even do with you alone,” she murmurs under her breath and you slap her shoulder.

“Actually, Jay’s here if you want to talk to him,” Jake brings up, looking around for the boy. And your eyes widen at his words, tugging Yunjin’s sleeves as an indication to leave.

“Yn, Yunjin,” and you curse yourself because Jay sounds so good in the early hours of the morning, too good, with his slightly raspy and deep voice that you wished to hear over and over.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing how you are when you’re drunk. Embarrassment swallowing you whole and spitting you out at the thoughts of what you might have done in your drunken state consuming you.

“You okay angel?” You turn around at the sound of the nickname that pinches at your heart, “after what happened last night, I thought you’d never see the light of day again.” The familiar devilish smirk is cued and you know you shouldn’t be trusting him yet you are as your cheeks heat up.

Jay chuckles at your abashed state as he gazes at you, wondering how you looked so good even in a plain white shirt and shorts. Like an angel, and he thinks the nickname he’s given you is spot on.

“Don’t remember? Then I’ll leave it to your imagination,” he says, leaning into you. As you freeze, eyes dart from his face to his lips for a second before looking back up. You don’t know what’s come over you because your usual calm demeanour has been flushed out, replaced with the resounding of your rapidly beating heart.

“Can’t believe you’d do such a thing to me, angel.”

Your imagination runs wild especially after you watch Jay walk out the diner with a winner’s smile on his face, head racing with embarrassing scenarios as he consumes your mind day and night.

iii. pink eyes, pink hearts, the whole world turns pink when i’m with you

When you meet Jake again at the same small rounded Starbucks table, you tell him Jay has no intentions of getting together with his girl. He smiles and tells you that there’s no longer a need for you to ever talk to Jay again, and for some reason it bugs the hell out of you.

You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you can’t stop thinking about the golden confidence that surrounds his body like second skin, or the way he walks — like he’s it. Maybe it’s the way his hair still looks perfect after hours of sweat and playing basketball, or maybe it’s just because he knows exactly how to get you heated.

You hate thinking about him too much, because you’re afraid that your cheeks will flush a cherry red and you’ll start remembering how he bent down to tie your shoelaces or how his muscular arm wrapped gently around your waist as he entertained your drunk blabbering ( you cried for three days upon remembering this, cursing Yunjin for not helping you out ). So you don’t think about Jay, how he’s so so pretty and you certainly don’t think about the straightness of his nose, or the birthmark on his neck.

It’s a Friday night, and the campus is empty, students all gathered to watch the football game. And you feel an uneasy sensation settling at the bottom of your stomach. Something’s terribly off, you realise, as you look at your shadow and see another following you at an awfully close distance.

I fucking hate men, you conclude, as you clutch the pepper spray you keep in your jacket pocket, and you continue walking in the same direction like nothing’s wrong. You can’t call Yunjin, because she’s busy cheering her head off at the football game, you think as you try to strategise. And you silently curse as you watch the shadow get closer, it’s fine, you think, you’re strong and fast — and your trusty pepper spray never betrays you.

You turn around and spray the small can in the face of your follower, jumping back to see if the chemicals did the desired damage. But when the air clears, all you see is Jay’s gorgeous face crying profusely.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you repeat again and again, and he doesn’t say anything. “I’m so sorry, Jay. Are you crying?”

The boy in front of you doesn’t look at you, blinking through his red eyes and burning tears as he takes the tissue you’ve offered him. You watch his swollen, puffy eyes as tears roll down and collect at the corner of his chin.

It’s not the time to laugh, you think, maybe just a little. And you have a strong urge to whip out your phone from your back pocket and take a picture of the once in a lifetime view in front of you.

So you do. And Jay isn’t having it.

“You know,” he says, voice scratchy, “you’re the most difficult fucking person I’ve ever met in my life.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his obvious compliment, “how would I know that you weren’t some pedophilic stalker who’s come to kill me!” You look at his pitiable state and you stop, “I’m really sorry.” Your voice softens.

“Say it again.” And his commanding tone makes you feel not so apologetic anymore.

“Go to hell.”

Jay sighs in annoyance, “that’s cute,” he replies, and you ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “I just saw you and wanted to talk to you, and maybe give you my jersey, for our bet.” His voice reminds you of springtime love and dragonfruit hibiscus, of frenzied thrills and mysterious shadows.

“Oh, where is it?” You ask, as if the thought of wearing his jersey to watch your first ever basketball game didn’t excite you even a little bit. His fingers clasp around your wrist, pulling you to a carpark where he had parked.

He unlocks his car, one hand still pressing the piece of tissue against his eye as the other swiftly opens the boot of the car. “Here, it’s washed, don’t worry — since you seem like that kind of person.”

You give him a look, as you watch him remove the tissue from his eye. It’s turned a shade of pink now, less puffy and less glassy. “What exactly do you mean by that Park, and here I was thinking of treating you for ice cream in return for giving you a pink eye.”

He huffs a tired sigh, “with the way you’re tiring me out, you should treat me for ice cream.”

And you look at Jay, who’s glowing under the rim streetlights despite his obvious red eye ( kudos to you ). With cheekbones that cut like ice and eyes liquid scotch, Park Jay is an alcoholic beverage and he doesn’t even know it. You’re addicted, even if your mind disagrees with your heart.

Stars could gleam all throughout the night sky and yet you’d still prefer to watch them through his eyes. And you think that you’re fucked, because you’ve never really thought of anyone like that. Not even Lee Heeseung, you only liked him because he was the fastest runner in middle school, but Jay — Jay made you feel like treasured snow in a globe kept by a bedside, he makes you feel like a fever dream.

“If you drive me, I will,” you say and he grins, jogging over to open the passenger seat for you.

“I’ll take a pistachio ice cream,” he orders as he slides into the driver’s seat and you enjoy the cool, crisp air blowing at you.

You choke at his words, “pistachio?” as your head tilts in question, “who eats pistachio nowadays? Everyone eats mint chocolate chip.”

Jay’s face contorts into an expression of disgust as he scrunches his eyebrows, taking his eyes away from the road to face you. “Honestly expected more from you angel, but I’m not surprised, just disappointed.”

“And I expected more from you, Park.” You comment, “who the hell doesn’t like mint chocolate chip?”

He groans at your argument, “it’s fucking toothpaste on a cone, what is there to like?” 

You gasp, mouth wide open ready to fight back till he sighs, eyes rolling as he turns into the parking lot of Baskin Robbins, “fine, I’ll give mint chocolate chip another try if you try pistachio. We’ll try each other's ice cream, okay?”

Smiling, you nod, happy that you’d win the argument, even if it meant having to try some weird nutty flavour of ice cream. “I’ll go get it, wait for me.”

You jog into the store, excited to finally treat yourself to ice cream — and for Jay’s expression when he eats mint chocolate chip because you know his face would scrunch up ( and you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to take yet another picture ).

You come back out into the parking lot, and you see Jay, with another girl pressed up awfully close to him, and it feels like your throat is closing up, squeezing as you feel the urge to rip the two apart. It looks wrong — Jay and her, and you think it’s what your knowledge and years of being Cupid is saying ( or maybe it’s your heart ). You hate it, hate the way she’s looking at him as if he’s some fallen God from heaven, hate the way she shifts closer to him even when he’s trying to avoid touching her.

You move before you know it, and you expertly loop your arm around Jay’s waist after passing his cup of ice cream to him. Red hot satisfaction lighting up inside of you as Jay rests his arm around you — as if it’s his natural instinct, and his expression of annoyance morphs into one of a devilish smirk that you were now well acquainted with. 

“You’re back, angel,” Jay murmurs, as he kisses the top of your head, his voice reverberating in your temples. 

“Yeah,” you say, grinning sweetly at him before shooting the girl a glare: eyes turning into stilts as you give the clueless girl yet another warning sign. It doesn’t take long for the intruder to awkwardly excuse herself before you click your tongue in annoyance, turning around to face Jay who had a foreign expression on his face.

“Is my angel jealous?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, and your heart fawns at the small movement that was ridiculously attractive. He hums, smiling sharply as your breath catches.

You clear your throat and look away, well aware that your hand still lingers on his chest and you have no motivation to move it. “Shut up.” And you feel panic rising, bubbling. This is bad. This is too dangerous.

“I could shut you up instead,” Jay murmurs, stepping even closer and a thrill runs through your body. “Want me to?”

“You’re such an arrogant asshole,” you whisper, slapping his shoulders without any real force, “why would you ask me this kind of question.” Your heart is screaming a resounding yes.

“Because I’m a gentlemen,” Jay glares at you, and this tension between the both of you — like cold fire and hot ice, erupts in a lick of blue, crystallised flames. “So I’ll ask you another time,” he pulls you towards him, “can I kiss you, angel?”

You can’t take it anymore. “Stop talking and just do it.”

You pull him down by his collar and press your lips onto his, feeling your skin heat up as his lips move on yours. Holy shit, you think. He’s an expert kisser. And it might be ironic because it’s your first kiss ever, but you believe that nothing after can ever top this. 

His hands rest on your waist, then to your jaw, then to your neck — and you feel. Feel the tip of his tongue asking for entrance at the inner part of her bottom lip, feel the way he’s kissing you roughly but smoothly at the same time, hair brushing your forehead and breathing unsteady against yours. Jay tastes like a blessed curse, a collection of angelic alcohol on a summer evening, and you want to hold him and never let go.

Because you’re making out with Jay, and your heart is pounding as you rest your thumb on his pulse and feel it flaring wildly, recklessly. Oh my god, you think, as he squeezes your waist before breaking the kiss — eyes slightly hooded as he stares at you in adoration that sparkles under the midnight sky.

He will be the death of you.

iv. three ways to ruin park jongseong

Jay thinks that there’s three ways to ruin him.

One: The kid’s viking ride at amusement parks. It absolutely destroys him, and his hair that he works on for hours in the morning. His knees get weak and his brain thrown out of his body as he squeezes his eyes shut, begging heaven to let him live another day even before the ride starts. 

Two: Mint chocolate ice cream. Which was why he surprised himself when he agreed to give it another try for you. He absolutely distastes the flavour, as the creamy cavity inducing toothpaste taste coats the roof of his mouth, he winces in disgust. The only exception, he thinks, is when he kisses you and he tastes it. Instead of its usual nauseating effect, it instead tastes like love drunk cherry epidermises. 

Three: You. With his jersey hanging from your shoulders, and he can smell his cologne, as you brush past him, eyes forming crescents as you greet him. “Hey Jay, are you ready for the game?”

His heartstrings tug, quicker and quicker at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. And he might be a little foolish when it comes to love, but he thinks that this was the way his name was meant to be said. 

“Jay? What, cat got your tongue?” You laugh, smiling. And he thinks he’s fallen for your laugh — that’s utterly contagious, your smile — which made him giddy for no reason, and the way you weren’t scared to annoy the hell out of him. 

He doesn’t know if this feeling is normal, because despite the rumours, Jay’s never had a girlfriend, nor has he ever been with a girl; relationship or not, and it was all Heeseung who had girls around all the goddamn time. With them, he felt sick at the way they whined to touch his hair. But you, you ruin him the most, even more than the viking ship ride. And all his life, Jay’s been a pretty systematic person, but now he doesn’t know where to start, what to do about it.

“Come again angel, didn’t catch that,” he replies, eyes catching yours as he turns into the school car park, one arm slung over the back of your seat as he reverses into a lot. 

You groan, cheeks pink, and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. “I said, are you scared the other team will trash you to pieces?”

Jay chuckles, at your sharp tongue and the way you skillfully tease him. “I’m not scared, why would I be? With an angel cheering for me, I literally have God on my side.” He gets out and rounds his car, moving over to open your side of the door as he watches you lick your honey lips in nervousness. Under the 7pm tinted red and orange skies of a Wednesday, Jay realises how blue he’d feel without you now that you’re here.

“Who,” you pause, as you try not to jumble up your words, “who said I’d cheer for you?” A lazy smirk painted on your face, as you praise yourself for not tripping over the nervous butterflies the boy in front of you gave your stomach.

“You’re here with me,” he says, eyes trained on you as you lean back onto the side of his car, “I drove you here, I will be walking in with you, the jersey you’re wearing has my name on it. And, I invited you to the game in front of half the school population at that party. You see the pattern here, angel? It’s us or nothing.”

The way his eyes hold your gaze as his hands graze over yours melts you. And you’re so drunk in him, you feel as if you could touch the clouds in the salmon sky.

“What if I exchange my jersey with another girl?” You say, eyes glinting with mischief as you fold your arms, testing him. “Or maybe I’ll sell it, I’ve heard that this jersey is a pretty coveted item here in Decelis.”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance and you grin, “girls like you are the bane of my existence.”

“Girls like me?” You raise an eyebrow, “love, I’m one of a kind.”

“Yeah, you are. You are the bane of my existence.” Jay nods in agreement, as he slings his bag over his shoulder, and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, guiding you into the unfamiliar sports hall. He thinks he’s playing with something dangerous — because you’re tangerine dusts of fire, flames that warm his skin and he relishes your warmth as you intoxicate his brain, his mind, as the smoothness of your skin lingers on his fingertips.

“Sit,” he says, pointing to an empty spot he reserved for you. 

“I’m not your dog,” you retort, begrudgingly.

“Love of my life, light of my eyes, my all, would you please do me a kind favour and take a seat? I don’t want to tire those pretty legs of yours. Not like this.” 

Oh.

You laugh, and it’s so loud that you can feel the eyes of others on you. Yet you’re fully focused on the devilish man in front of you. And you think, if you were very brave or honest you would tell him — that you might have fallen for his charming ways, sly smile, and god-like features.

“That’s right,” you grin as he shakes his head at your bratty behaviour. 

“Anything for the princess,” he bows, and he doesn’t realise it but he’s smiling. Wide. And just like that you’re woven into his veins and he needs you like sin.

Jay makes up his mind that today’s match would be the best match he’s ever played. Not because you were here, sitting at the front row of the bleachers. Well, maybe, maybe it was because he wanted to hear you cheer his name, watch you grin in celebration as he scores hoop after hoop, and maybe because then — only then can he smoothly ask you to celebrate his win with him over dinner.

And that is exactly what he does. 

“You did so good, Jay, when you twirled around that dude and threw the ball into the ring,” You say, reenact Jay’s winning shot, the jingle of the bell of your favourite diner that you recommended Jay to go to ringing as you enter the small place.

Jay think’s it’s extremely endearing, the way you call the basketball hoop a ring, or how you explain his moves as if he was a dancer on stage — twirling, he thinks he could work with that.

Jay directs you to a booth to sit in and a waiter comes to take your orders. You request a double cheeseburger and so does Jay. And he notes down the way you toy with the salt and pepper shakers, rips up the edge of a napkin, and clinks silverware together in odd amusement; you don’t ever stop moving, it seems. And it’s adorable.

“Tell me about your business,” Jay prompts, elbow settled on the table as you grumble in protest.

You shake your head, pursing your lips in refusal, “It’s a little embarrassing.”

“No it’s not,” Jay huffs, “I think it’s interesting.”

And so you tell him. “People pay me to matchmake them with someone they’re attracted to,” you mumble, “and sometimes I get paid more when I get a request to play a certain role.”

“What kind of role?” Jay asks, full of curiosity.

“Well, on Saturday Yoo Jimin is paying me to act like an innocent girl who her boyfriend was two timing with — he cheats a lot you see, and she wants to finally dump him.” You elaborate, “I don’t accept all of these requests, I choose them. I get a whole lot of weird ones too so that's a big no.”

“Isn’t that cruel,” Jay comments, but a drop of pity found nowhere in his voice. And you laugh, tilting your head back. He watches, eyes following the curve of your throat.

“Maybe,” you say, “but cheaters deserve it. Especially when Jimin’s boyfriend has hooked up with multiple girls.”

“So you like to roleplay?” Your mouth drops open.

“Is that all you got out of my explanation? That I may like to roleplay?” You scoff as Jay grins, “sadly for you Jay, I don’t.”

He glares at you and you glare back at him even harder. “Right,” he snaps, “how could anyone ever put up with you to begin with? You’re impossible.”

“That’s mean,” you pout, eyes flickering to his as you rest your chin on the palm of your hands. “You’re mean, Jay. I really hate you.” False.

“And you’re a devil’s spawn.”

You gasp, “you wound me, Jay. I thought I was your angel.”

You are, he thinks as he stares at you. And Park Jongseong wants to kiss you — but only in the most connotative way possible, so that no dictionary definition would ever stand a chance to describe how your lungs could be filled with the sweetest air possible and yet you’d still be so breathless. Often, pictures the both of you holding hands, watching a movie, sitting on the beach hearing your laugh throughout the day, catching your smile and he hopes that at the very least you think of him when your eyes are closed.

Roseate cheekbones, pearlescent soft lips, and bickering emanates love as the both of you fill the quiet dinner with intimate chatter. 

And the night dies down all while Jay thinks about how you’re a vivid dream of lust and harmonies, euphoria reeking upon your entire figure, lips tainted with surreal giggles — and that the saliva in your throat is yet rather angel dust that converts into musical laughter, music he loved to hear as he watches you.

v. mascara stained cheeks, bruised skin, and a crumpled piece of paper.

“He must be really fucking into the cheating shit if he’s meeting his side chick an hour away from our school,” Jay grunts as he pulls over at the entrance of the restaurant Jimin sent you. 

Today, you’re donned in a different style — sweatpants and a random big sweatshirt you stole from Jay’s backseat. Your hair messed up and your mascara smudged. It wasn’t really part of the job to be dramatic, but you only live once, so what’s the point of living boringly?

Jay scans your face for the fifth time in an hour, “you look exceptionally pretty today, angel. You really live up to your pet name.”

You grin, eyes rolling as you shuffle through your bag to take out a positive pregnancy test, mind sifting through your checklist — mascara check, positive test check. “Jay, love, it’s called dedication. You obviously do not have such a quality.”

His heart spins when you call him love. And it’s crazy, because he’s staring at you — with makeup smudged all over your face, positive pregnancy test in your hand from God knows where, drowning in his oversized sweatshirt yet he thinks you’re pretty, too pretty. And if that wasn’t dedication, he doesn’t know what is.

“I’m dedicated,” he says. And you raise your eyebrows in question.

“To what Jay? And don’t say basketball cause everyone in the world knows that you’re in love with it. Honest to G-”

“You,” He cuts you off, as he watches sunlight seep through the windows of his car onto your cheekbones, softly portraying faint constellations of stars upon them. He watches as your orbs glimmer with fervour, lips parting slightly to expose a marvelled gasp, and he hopes that the hazed longing in his eyes has reached you.

You cough, eyes dodging his gaze as you shift. “Not now, Jay. Not when I look like this.” And it’s enough for Jay to start smiling. He’s amused, that all that mattered to you right now was how you looked when he was about to confess to you.

“Fine,” he laughs, “I’ll do it when you look prettier than you look now.” You hum as you appreciate the way his arms look under the sunlight through the windows. Before today, you’ve never associated attractiveness with driving, but the slight imprint of his veins along with his lean muscles turned your mouth drier than usual.

“Only you get me, love,” you say, as you mess your hair up a little bit more in the mirror. “How do I look?”

“Like a sex addict.” You slap him, hard across his chest. “What? You asked!”

“You can’t say things like that to a girl,” you tell him, hiding a secret smile. “Be a gentleman, say I look great and wish me luck.”

“You’d only be looking good when you’re going on a date with me, roleplaying or not.” He mutters under his breath as you shoot him yet another glare. “Fine,” Jay gives in, leaning over the control panel, and he’s dangerously close to you. “Good luck, angel.”

In front of you, everything is still. Jay, time, galaxies, constellations pause to dawn upon him and gaze at you, who’s clearly unaware of your beauty. “Happy?”

You nod and he smirks, “Why so quiet now angel?”

“Just shut up and get on with our act.”

He laughs before the two of you go over your plans again: Jay entering into the restaurant first, sitting at a table near Jimin’s to monitor the situation, and you entering five minutes later, causing the biggest break up ever. It’ll be fun, like drama club.

You look at yourself in the mirror once again, and you think you look like those prostitutes in those trashy american tv shows before you enter the building with the classy exterior. With crystal chandeliers hung and tablecloths made of white linen, you feel terribly out of place, but for what if not for money.

You immediately spot Jay, sitting there with his long legs spread out. And a few tables to your right sits Jimin and her boyfriend, who continuously toys with his phone under the tablecloth while she tries to keep the conversation going.

It’s showtime.

You storm up to their table, positive pregnancy test in one hand as you yell out, “How could you! How could you cheat on me!” Hands reaching out to grab the boy by his collar, tears welling up in your eyes as he fumbled to stand straight under your tiger grip.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, eyes wide as saucers as his hands move up to surrender. “Jimin, babe, I swear I don’t know this crazy woman.”

“Crazy? You said I was your everything, that we were bound by fate! I believed you and now I’m pregnant,” you scream, throwing the test into his face as his hands scramble to catch it.

“Just get it aborted for god’s sake, it’s not that fucking hard.” And you gasp, shocked by the sheer stupidness of the boy. You don’t really let your emotions get to you, but the boy in front of you with a grip that could bruise your wrist and a mentality of a crude alpha male disgusts you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You have a girlfriend who was willing to listen to you and give you a second chance before, but you ruined it by being an arsehole.” You pinch his forearm and he yelps, “you’re pathetic, and you don’t deserve anyone in your life.”

You watch as Jimin packs her things and leaves, before you meet Jay in his car. And without a word, he puts the makeup remover you brought into a cotton pad, dabbing your face with it as his fingers softly brush over the bruise forming on your wrist.

“You’re insane,” he says, “so fucking insane.”

You grin, “you don’t mind,” you make up his mind for him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t,” he says as he digs his pocket to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper, handing it to you. 

And you open it, reading the scrawny handwriting in black ink.

Matchmaking

Name : Park Jay / Park Jongseong

Match : This girl I call angel, I’m sure you know who I’m talking about

Extra : I think we’re a match made in heaven, so please, help me win her over

vi. an angel and her love

You push your clingy boyfriend Jay away from your body, and to no avail fail for the third time. “Jay, you’re going to be late,” you tell the boy whose arms wrap protectively around your waist, “that’s not very vice captain of you.”

“And it’s not very girlfriend of you to chase your boyfriend away,” he mutters into the crook of your neck, as he proceeds to tighten his grip around your waist.

You give up, which you should have done minutes ago, because you know your boyfriend isn’t one to listen to anyone — even you. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not when you’re not an easy person either.

“Go, or I’ll ask Yunjin to put that photo of you with a pink eye on the jumbotron,” you tease, and it works because Jay immediately lets go of your waist, eyes turning into slits.

“Hate you,” he says, rolling his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss.

It’s short and sweet. And a line invisible to the naked eye seemed to be drawn between the both of you, it’s scarlet and relatively thick in magnitude, as the feeling of being in heaven — a feeling you’re accustomed to whenever you’re with Jay enlightens your skin again.

“Kiss me again,” you complain.

“You always order me around,” he laughs.

“Kiss me.”

“Are you sure?” he mutters, lips curving into his signature smirk.

You grab the back of his head, yanking him down once more. And the silence around the both of you explodes and a world of colours appear before your closed eyes. Every thought in your brain erased and replaced by the thought of him, just him. His lips pressing against yours, his hands pulling you closer, running up and down your back, into your hair. The taste of his mouth and the heat of his breath cloud your mind.

And when you finally convince yourself to pull away, your brain fails to string any piece of thought together.

“I love you more,” you tell him, as you smile. 

And Jay looks, and he adores. He thinks (knows) he can watch you until the sun rises and the sun sets again, that he can watch you for days on end and never grow tired of you.

“Love you the most, angel.”

© SJYUNS

[asahicore]

fast forward - pjs

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy... and future husband, or so it seems.

genre+warnings. high school au, the type of e2l where they never really hated each other to begin with, they act like they're academic rivals even though they're not particularly academically gifted, jay has a thing about german the language, sunoo and kazuha besties, heeseung is a loser, jake and sunghoon are assholes sorry, ive liz is german, 02z get into a white-boy locker-room fight, attempts at banter etc, they're a little bit silly

word count. 26.6k

a/n. had the idea for this listening to fast forward by somi LAST SUMMER... and only wrote it this summer and only posting it now <3 i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it !!!!! jay is an absolute cutie here pls love him as much as i do.... as always let me know what u think and remember to vote for @zreamy president in the upcoming elections, shes the only one i trust to beta-read and hence to run a country <3 no it doesnt matter that shes scottish put this woman in the white house

There is only one thorn on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life.

Every morning, you wake up feeling refreshed from eight hours of restful sleep. You go downstairs to the kitchen, a boiling cup of milky Earl Grey tea already waiting for you, and eat breakfast with your brother Jinwoo and father. Your mom dashes in, placing a kiss on your and Jinwoo’s foreheads, and on your dad’s lips, saying she’s late for work but will see you in the evening. “Have fun at school,” she bids every morning without fail. Your dad teaches Korean Literature at your school, so the three of you drive there together. He watches amusedly as you and Jinwoo bicker light-heartedly on the way there—even in the pits of his puberty, you and your brother get along like two peas in a pod. He still tells you about everything he learns at school and fills you in on the drama in his class, up-to-date with everything even though he pretends not to be interested.

You’re always one of the first to arrive at school, so you scroll through your feed or finish up some homework as you wait for your classmates to file in. Your friends circle your table and you chat about the last episode of the show you’ve been watching until the bell rings and they leave you for their assigned seat.

Class starts with your teacher handing out the math tests you took last week. “Jay and Y/N, great job, keep it up,” he says as he walks past you and the boy in front of you, and hands you your paper. Relief floods your body as you take in the bright red 82 in the top right-hand corner—not the best of the class, but enough for you to be satisfied. 

Good friends, good grades—nothing extraordinary, but it’s a life you dare say any high school senior would want.

There’s just that one thing. The thorn in your side that won’t stop poking.

You glare at it as it whips around in its seat and takes a peek at the grade on your paper before you get to snatch it away from view. It only gives you three seconds to rejoice over your grade. 

“Aw, Y/N. Good effort! Maybe you’ll do better next time!” Jongseong coos, holding up his test for you to see and glare even harder at. 85. Not that big of a difference, but it makes you want to punch the faux sympathetic pout off of his face. 

You’re about to spit something just as petty back at him, but someone whispers your name, and you turn your head in their direction. Beside you, Jake is smiling at you as he asks what grade you got. Your attention is swiftly taken off of Jongseong, whom you don’t even notice dramatically rolling his eyes, huffing in annoyance, and turning around. 

“82,” you whisper back, holding up your paper for Jake to see. His friendly, absurdly handsome smile makes your ears burn. “You?”

The corners of his lips fall down into a sad pout—the kind that makes your heart melt rather than gets on your nerves like someone else. “68,” he says. Leans in over the gap between your tables. Your heart jumps uncontrollably around your rib cage. “Do you wanna go over it together during the break? I think I need some help.”

One-on-one time with Jake Sim? You don’t need to be asked twice. You nod silently, almost mesmerized by Jake as his grin widens. He leans back in his chair. “Perfect. I’ll see you in the library, then.”

“Library, yeah,” you echo dumbly, but thankfully, your teacher tells you to all quiet down and starts the lesson. 

You’re antsy all throughout the rest of your morning classes and lunch break, so nervous that you barely manage to finish your yogurt. Of course, your friends, Sunoo and Kazuha, have a field day with this, and even you can’t help but laugh along as they jump between reassuring you that it’ll be fine, slapping your shoulders with excitement and making fun of your uncharacteristic quietness.

Jake arrives at the library five minutes after you, looking around the room before he finds you at the big round table in the back of the library. Your brain is too riddled with anxiety for you to make more small talk than “Hey,” “Hey,” “How was your lunch?” “Good, yours?” “Good.” And so you just jump straight into it.

You’ve only had a couple minutes of quiet explanation on your part and heavy nodding on Jake’s when Jay appears at the entrance of the library. He spots you and Jake immediately, and without any hesitation whatsoever heads towards you and sits down at your table, right across from the two of you.

“Hey, Jay,” Jake greets in a friendly manner, but Jay only responds with a nod of his head.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he says when he notices you glaring. “I won’t bother you.”

As if he could be anything other than a bother, you think, but courteously keep to yourself. The childish rivalry you and Jongseong have got going on has no business spoiling a rare hour of alone time you get with Jake. As you go over the exercises he had the most trouble with on the test with you, your eyes often drift over to Jongseong as if to check on him—you’re cautious like he’s a spider in the corner of the room that might spring on you at any moment.

And indeed, the moment your gaze leaves him for more than a minute as you explain an intricate theorem to Jake, he’s out of sight, and panic shoots through you. Where the hell has he suddenly gone off to? you wonder, but not for long.

“There’s a much easier way to do this, really,” says a voice from behind you, and of course, it’s none other than Jongseong himself, quite literally butting his way into your tutoring session. Right between you and Jake, he bends over and rests his elbows on the table, taking Jake’s pencil from him and describing the theorem in a way that isn’t that much simpler. Your eyes shoot bullets into the side of his face while he, unbothered, explains this and that to Jake, who glances at you a couple of times but otherwise does not seem so perturbed by the sudden change of tutor. Either Jongseong doesn’t notice your glare or doesn’t care, because he doesn’t budge.

Just when they’re done with the exercise and you think you’ll get Jake to yourself again, another voice appears from behind, a much higher, girlier one. You notice the hand on Jake’s shoulder first, until slowly, your eyes drift to the face—you recognize Yunjin, head of the cheerleading squad, and she’s smiling at you, a smile that at once tries to cover and betrays her surprise at seeing you and Jake together. She doesn’t acknowledge you any more than that, gaze going back to “Jakey,” asking him if he wants to head to class together. You check the time—five minutes before the first bell rings. What do they need so much time getting to class for? It’s not like any room in this school is more than a three-minute walk away.

But Jake doesn’t even look back at you, just says “Sure!” with far too much enthusiasm for your taste as he packs his stuff. “Thanks, you two,” he says, looking at Jay first, then at you. You think his eyes linger on you for a second, but just like that, he’s gone, him and Yunjin walking side-by-side.

You watch them leave—they look good together, the cheerleading captain and the soccer team’s star. The white Vans she’s wearing have a bunch of red love hearts on them that look drawn on, and you think, Of course, Jake is the type to date someone cute, someone fun, someone who would draw on their shoes. Not someone like you, whose idea of a good Friday night is lighting up a scented candle and reading your favorite novel for the nth time. When they’ve left the library, you slump in your seat, crumpling the sheet of paper you had drawn a bunch of graphs and formulae on to make things clearer for Jake. Jay awkwardly clears his throat and finally returns to his seat, looking at you with his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Y/N?” he asks tentatively, and the sound is too much to bear, so you pack your things and head to your next class early, too. Your mind is racing with a million thoughts a minute—who is that girl to Jake, how come you’ve never seen them together before, how come he was so eager to leave with her, what was that smile she gave you about? In the fifty-five minutes of your biology class, which you uncharacteristically don’t pay any attention to, you’ve convinced yourself that they are crazy in love and that none of Jake’s actions or words towards you had ever meant anything, that you’d liked him so much you’d dreamt up the possibility of his liking you back, too.

Your next lesson starts—the smile Jake gives you as he walks into History is so bright, it dissipates any clouds hanging over your head. You do believe in male-female friendships, but despite yourself, you can’t help but think that anyone in a relationship wouldn’t give someone else such a perfect, warm smile. It just wouldn’t be right. And so, you reason with yourself that simply walking to a class together didn’t mean two people were a couple.

For an hour, you stare at the back of Jake’s head, and although you do eventually come to the more sensible conclusion that a smile may just be a smile, you also think it's unlikely that he and Yunjin would be a thing. If they were, why would they hide it? Jake is so nice, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d exaggerated his enthusiasm upon seeing her. You’re sure you still have your chances. He even says see you tomorrow when class is over and slips out of the room to go to soccer practice. 

You feel like you’re walking on cloud 9 as you head from History to your next class—but when you remember that the next class is German, your mood drops significantly. Because the universe has it out for you, you and Jay are two of just ten students in your year taking German as your second foreign language option, everyone else having gone for either French, Japanese or Spanish. Your reasoning for it is that your dad has had an obsession with Germany since his year abroad in Bavaria, and twelve-year-old you had wanted to make him happy. Eighteen-year-old you regrets it slightly, but at least now your dad is ecstatic every time you tell him in German that the dinner he made was really tasty. Why Jongseong decided to take it beats you—he’s probably just insane.

But because you don’t really know anyone else in the class, and because it’s your last period of the day, you have no friends to run off with once the lesson is over, and he gets to bother you all the way from the classroom door to the staff parking lot. 

You’ve barely finished bidding Auf Wiedersehen to your teacher and Jongseong is already harassing you. “So, I didn’t take you as the type to be into guys like Jake Sim.” He says Jake’s name with such disdain, like he thinks he’s so much better than him, or like he hates him. It confuses you just as much as it annoys you; Jongseong didn’t seem to have a problem with Jake earlier at the library.

“And that’s your business, because…?”

You don’t look at Jongseong, who’s quickened his pace to keep up with yours, but you can feel the smirk on his face. It’s insufferable. “Oh, it’s none of my business. I’m just surprised, is all. You guys are so… I don’t know, different.”

You scoff. “If you think I’m not good enough for someone like Jake, I’d rather you tell me straight up, Jongseong. Or actually,” you say, looking up at him with a dry smile. “Keep it to yourself and leave me alone.”

He looks offended by your words, and it only adds to your already immense annoyance—he’s the one who just insulted you, so why is he looking at you with those stupid furrowed eyebrows?

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“No, Y/N.” He grabs your wrist and makes you face him, your stomach flipping in surprise that you quickly cover up. When he releases you, you cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to speak, keeping your eyes trained on a spot behind him. “I don’t think he’s too good for you.” 

This makes you look at him. You have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. Not like Jongseong to say anything even vaguely in your favor. “He’s just…” He sighs, searches for the right word. “Well, he’s just a bit of a dick, isn’t he?”

You freeze for a second. You’re so taken aback, your scoff comes out more as a laugh—Park Jongseong, king supreme of all dicks at this school, just called Jake Sim a dick?

“I’m sorry?”

He sighs again, as though you’re the unreasonable one. “He’s so… smug. A wannabe class clown and thinks he’s the shit because he’s on the soccer team. Have you seen the way he swaggers around school?”

You look at him with fake sympathy. “Jong, are you jealous?”

“Pfft. No way. I just think it’s a shame you keep going after these dudes who are not even worth your time, or whatever, so yeah…” he says, voice trailing off and looking down at his feet as he speaks. Hands in pockets and blank expression on his face, you can tell he’s trying to look cool, but the way he’s avoiding your gaze is a dead give-away. Even his ears have turned red. Jongseong is having one of those shy moments he has when he’s trying to be nice to you. Clearly, a simple act of kindness towards you is so hard for him that it radically changes the way he behaves. 

Like when you were fifteen and you just couldn’t get this stupid art project right, so he stayed behind for three hours after school with you, helping you draw and paint and cut and glue. 

Like when you were sixteen and your grandma just passed away, making you miss a week of school, and without a word, barely looking at you, he gave you a stack of handwritten notes of all the lessons you missed. To this day, you’re not sure how he did it—you weren’t in the same class that year.

Like when you were seventeen and Park Sunghoon rejected you in the middle of a crowded hallway. You’d run off to the girls’ bathroom to cry it out, but Jongseong quickly found you and spent the entire period cursing Sunghoon out instead of being in English, like you were both meant to be. He was uncharacteristically nice to you for a few days after that, never starting an argument for no reason or interrupting you when you spoke. When you snapped at him, telling him it only made you feel worse that he treated you differently, he smiled and told you how stupid you looked when you cried. It made you laugh more than it should’ve.

Like now, when he suddenly decides that Jake Sim is also a wrong choice for you. “Him and Sunghoon are good friends, you know that?” he says. “Birds of a feather, and all…”

So you know that Jongseong is not all bad. He has his redeeming qualities. He can even be nice sometimes, when he so wishes. But those moments are so few and far between that when he returns to his usual insufferable self, you wonder if you’d dreamt it all up. Which is why you can’t quite take him seriously right now. You roll your eyes and resume walking towards the parking lot, but of course, he continues to follow you. “Why do you even care who I go after?”

“I don’t-”

“You clearly do, otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering me like this.”

“Well, if all your attention is taken up by that douche, who am I going to go up against?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? That I stop arguing with you?” you say, disbelief clear in your voice.

“I’m offended, Y/N,” he starts, his sarcastic tone making you roll your eyes again. “That our little rivalry matters so little to you.”

“We’re not even the top students of our class, for God’s sake, we’re not fighting over anything.”

“I’ve actually got the best grades in German, thanks very much.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t call it a rivalry so much as a mutual dislike of each other, because one of us woke up one day and decided to start going against everything the other said.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

The exit to the parking lot now appears to you like the gates of heaven. You don’t even bother replying to him, thinking that he’ll just leave you alone now that you’re here. But as you step outside, he places himself in front of you and blocks your path, arms splayed out, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost.

“What are you-”

“Have you done the German homework for tomorrow?”

The sudden change of subject gives you whiplash. “What? No, Miss Schumacher assigned it just now-”

“Well, given your tendency for getting the word order all wrong, I can already tell you you’re not gonna have fun with it-”

You pinch the nose of your bridge, trying to calm yourself down before you lose what’s remaining of your mind. “Jongseong, were you actually dropped on the head as a baby? Go away. My dad’s gonna be here any second.” You try to walk around him, but he steps in front of you again. You peer up at him, undisguised annoyance in your eyes. Where are your dad and brother when you need them?

“I’m just saying, you’ll probably need help with it-”

“I won’t. And if I do, I’ll just use Google. Now get out of my way,” you say, and manage to duck under one of his arms.

Then you see it.

Well, actually, it takes you a second to understand what it is you’re seeing. At first, you think it’s one of those horny couples thinking they’re being really discreet by going to the staff parking lot to make out, when in reality they could be caught by any one at any time. They’re just far enough that when you do a double take, you realize that you do know the back of that head; that fluffy mop of brown hair. You sit behind it every History period, next to it every Maths and English period.

The girl is up against the wall, and you can’t really see her, what with her and Jake’s tongues being down each other’s throat and his body blocking her from your view, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders. All the works. She’s wearing a cheerleader uniform, so she could be any of twenty girls—but you’re pretty sure only one of them wears a pair of white Vans with red love hearts on them.

Your heart sinks to your stomach.

You’re frozen in place when a whistle rings in the distance, and Jake and Yunjin separate, giggling to each other as they jog to wherever the sound came from. The sports field, probably. It’s Monday; the cheerleaders and the soccer team share the field for their practice. 

Jake spots you and Jongseong staring at them. He waves quickly, awkwardly at you, still smiling even when surprise coats his features. Yunjin tugs on his hand and just like that, they’re gone. 

“Y/N-” 

Jay’s voice fades in the background. You want to get away from this situation as quickly as possible—it’s embarrassing enough seeing the guy you like and thought you had a chance with kissing a girl that is arguably much more on his level than you are, but having Jongseong of all people not only witness it, but try to protect you from it, God knows why, makes it impossibly mortifying. You speed-walk to your dad’s car, huffing as you plop in your seat and slamming the door behind you. Your brother is already sitting in the passenger seat, and you don’t even argue with him about it. When you only give single-word replies to his questions, he shrugs and returns to playing Clash of Clans on his phone. 

The moment you get home, you fish a five cent coin from your purse, change into mud boots and grab your dog’s leash. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After half-an-hour of trudging through leaves and soft ground, muddy from many a rainy November night, you and Pablo, your massive, fluffy airhead of a German Shepherd, find yourselves at the well in the middle of the forest. Ever since you were little, you have attributed magic powers to the well—not that anyone told you any sort of myth about it, but you remember reading a story about a magic well and decided that your well would be magical, too. You’ve never wanted to abuse its powers, so you’ve used your wishes conscientiously: things like getting a certain present at Christmas (when you were nine and the most important thing ever was getting the Monster High doll you wanted) or not stuttering during your presentation in class (when you really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Park Sunghoon and his cool friends). Every wish you’ve made has come true. Whenever a faint voice of reason tells you that it’s because you always ask for very realistic things, you squash it and continue to believe in the well.

Because today, you’re not asking for something realistic. 

Today, you’re asking the well to show you the way to love.

You’ve grown up watching The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice. Your parents are high school sweethearts who are still, twenty-five years later, happily married. You devour romance novels and binge-watch Asian dramas, the more unrealistic and romantic, the better. You are convinced that soulmates exist, that love always finds a way, that it is there for anyone to see. That it can take form in a childhood friend, an archnemesis, a total stranger.  

But for some reason, it hasn’t shown itself to you yet, no matter how valiantly you’ve looked. 

You’re absolutely sick and tired of it. It is Jake kissing another girl, it’s Sunghoon leading you on for months and then rejecting you in front of everyone, it’s your ex-boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named, your first love and first heartbreak, dumping you after a year and getting with the girl he had told you not to worry about a week later. At a party a few months later, he’d said, word for word, “At least I didn’t cheat on you.”

Coin lodged between your hands, you interlace your fingers and press your palms closely together, eyes screwed shut in desperation. “Hey,” you start simply, because you and the well are good friends. “It’s been a while since I’ve asked for anything, so I hope you can indulge me… This is gonna sound so cliché, but I’m really tired of getting fucked over by boys — excuse my French — and I just wanna meet the person who’s right for me, you know? Mom’s always reminding me that I’m only eighteen, and that I’ve got plenty of time to meet someone, but I just feel like if I don’t find someone now, I never will. And if I get fucked over again — sorry — I’ll just lose hope and write off men for the rest of my life. So help a girl out, will you? I’ll leave it to you how you wanna go about it, but… just show me that there’s someone out there. Please.”

When you open your eyes, you need a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. You toss the coin in the well. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the bottom, as if it has been absorbed within the old brick walls. You know better than to question it—the well works in mysterious ways.

You’re quiet that entire evening, making up an excuse of a tiring day at school when your parents ask. Really, you’re just thinking about your wish, whether it’ll work, what might happen. You half-ass your homework—Jay was right, the German exercises throw you into a bout of despair, so you quickly close your textbook and bury yourself in your sheets, falling asleep hours earlier than you usually would.

--

For some reason, the first thing you notice when you wake up is that it’s still dark outside. It must be the middle of the night, you think. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re in a completely strange room.

Instead of your floral-patterned sheets, you find yourself covered by delicate silk sheets that your parents would never agree to buy you, no matter how adamantly you argued for the benefits of silk for your skin. If skincare experts online had convinced you of one thing, it was that silk would do wonders for your obstinate acne. You slide out of bed and find a pair of slippers on the floor, as if waiting for you. Even the pajamas you’re wearing are fancier, more grown up than the ones you have at home, a set composed of a pinstriped button-up and shorts. You look around, for some reason more surprised and curious than panicked. You could’ve been kidnapped, for all you know, but all you care about right now is this room. Rather than the pink and white walls that have surrounded you since childhood, covered with pictures of you and your friends, postcards of artwork bought at museums, and posters of your favorite movies, the walls here are beige and mostly bare, except for a painting of Japanese cherry blossoms above the bed and a family portrait on the opposite wall, above a wooden chest of drawers. 

The family portrait. A woman, a man, and what you can only assume are their children. They look like twins—two girls. Can’t be older than three years old. Out of the four faces, you recognize two of them. You recognize them far too well. One of them is yours, of course. You look slightly older, by a decade, maybe? You’re glad to know that you won’t fall off after twenty-five, like much of social media has led you to believe. 

The other face you recognize immediately, too, but it takes you a few seconds to truly believe it.

It belongs to none other than Park Jongseong.

A dry chuckle falls from your throat, as if someone has just made a very insulting joke at your expense and you have to pretend you find it funny. The well has a very odd sense of humor, you think. It’s probably just a prank, a magic-induced nightmare before the real thing. Except this already feels real, disorientingly so. The fabric on your skin, the picture, the room. It all feels too real, more tangible than any dream you’ve ever had.

You take a step closer towards the picture, as if looking at it harder will make Jongseong’s face fade into that of another man, the real man that will become your husband and father of your children. But alas, his features remain the same, frozen in time by the photographer’s camera. He, too, looks older—and not only does he not fall off after twenty-five, he becomes all the more handsome for it.

Is this how you find out that Jongseong was handsome all along? You stare at it until the familiar face becomes practically unrecognizable, like repeating a word so much it stops feeling like one. The straight nose, the almond-shaped eyes that seem to have softened overtime, whereas his jaw has remained as sharp as ever. Have his eyebrows always framed his face so perfectly? Has that dimple always been there? 

You look around again, and the bright numbers on the bedside alarm clock catches your attention. They read 9:57 p.m., but it’s the date that makes your stomach sink—today is still the 18th of November, but ten years later. You stare at the clock, at the unfamiliar number, a date so far into the future you can’t wrap your head around it. You could barely envision life after high school.

Downstairs, the sudden clang of pots and the sound of a tap running manage to rip your gaze away from the alarm clock. An overwhelming curiosity tells you to follow the noise. This is all a dream, so there are no consequences if you explore a bit more, right? 

You’ve never been in this house before, and you have no idea where your feet are taking you until you find yourself in the kitchen. It’s the only lit room in the house, and you’re creepily standing in the dark under a wide archway that connects the kitchen to what looks like the dining room. A man has his back to you, washing dishes and putting them out to dry on a rack next to the sink. He’s wearing a white cotton sweater, one that you feel you recognise without ever having seen before, and a brown apron is tied around his neck and waist. 

The first thing you think to yourself is Oh, his haircut hasn’t changed. In almost every class you share with him, Jongseong has made it a point to sit either next to you or right in front of you, so you’ve spent a lot of time glaring at the back of his head. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started developing two eye-shaped bald spots there. His hair is still short and spiky at the back and on the sides, longer on the top. When he lets it grow too long, it sometimes covers his eyes, and he obnoxiously keeps having to push it back like a heartthrob in an 80s movie. 

Something like a memory flashes through your mind, blurry like those images you aren’t sure came from a dream or from real life. Your surroundings are unclear, but Jay’s face is nestled against your neck, your hand in his hair. You can feel the softness of the close shave against your palm as clearly as if you were touching it right now. You ask him why he’s always kept it that way, and he replies that it’s simple to maintain. Then in classic Jay fashion, he adds, “And it makes me look awesome.”

Another memory, a clearer one, this time—this definitely happened. It’s halfway through sophomore year, a random Tuesday, and Jay walks in, holding his head high and looking smugly around himself. The bastard got a new haircut. Long gone, his messy, unorganized flop of black hair that looked like it didn’t know what it was doing; hello, sleek undercut. It accentuates all of his best features, which is terrible news for you. You had never even thought of Jongseong as someone having “best” features, but now they’re being thrown in your face. His nose. His jawline. His smile.

It ruins your day, and a few after that. You can’t quite put it into words when your friends ask what’s wrong at lunch—or rather, you don’t wanna face the humiliation of uttering something along the lines of “Park Jongseong looks good with his new haircut, and it’s bothering me.”

Here, it’s a familiar sight in an unfamiliar environment, the back of his head. Without really thinking, you take a step forward. Jongseong starts at the sound of your slippers against the marble floor tiles, but his face relaxes into a smile when he sees you.

“Oh, it’s just you, honey. I thought you were sleeping.”

Just you. As if the two of you being in the same kitchen is normal. You guess it must be, to this version of Jongseong. To him, you’re not the annoying girl he strives to best in every class—you’re honey. 

“I was,” you say, walking around the kitchen island to join him by the sink. Something in you needs to look at him, really look at him, maybe pinch yourself or pinch him to be sure you’re not going crazy. Maybe you caught wafts of some ancient algae that lives in the well and made you hallucinate?

“I left a plate out for you in case you woke up. Made your favorite. The girls weren’t so happy, seeing as it’s the third time this month,” he says with the special kind of smile reserved for parents talking about their children. The girls. A mention so casual, so obvious, your heart hurts. “But I think I got it really right this time,” he continues. “Honestly, it might even be better than the original.”

He goes back to washing the dishes and you watch the sponge in his hands as it scrubs away tomato sauce, the soap as it runs from the plates into the sink. A knot forms in your stomach, something like a deep sadness that overwhelms you all of a sudden, and tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall any second.

When you haven’t budged in almost a minute, Jongseong starts to say, in an intimate, almost worried voice, “Aren’t you going to eat, honey?” but when he sees your wet eyes, the tremble in your lower lip, he shuts the water immediately and dries his hands. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears that have started falling from your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You can’t reconcile the man in front of you with the image you have of the boy that torments you in every class you share. You can’t reconcile the genuine concern in his voice with the snarky tone you’re met with every day. And yet, they respond to the same name, their features are identical, if not for the years that separate them, the stress of adulthood on one and the carefreeness of youth on the other. 

Your body reacts automatically to the soft touch—never in a million years would you let the Jongseong you know come near you like this, but here, nothing feels more natural than his hands on your face, your shoulders, your hair, as though they’re just as much his as they are yours. You realize the emotion in your stomach is not sadness—tears fall, but you’re not sad. You’ve never felt as home as you do now, and if one thing romantic novels have taught you, is that this must be love.

You look up at the man in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as you search his face for confirmation or some sort of an answer. There’s a tremble in your voice when you speak next. “I just… I think I love you, Jongseong.”

He chuckles. “Well, we established that a while ago, didn’t we? What with getting married and having kids. But I’m glad you still feel that way.”

The mention of marriage and children doesn’t faze you nearly as much as it should. You’ve only got one thing on your mind. “Do you love me too?”

You expect him to laugh—not out of cruelty, but because the answer is so obvious, it almost doesn’t deserve to be answered seriously. Like when your brother asks if he can have one more of your cookies and you tell him you’ll cut his hand off. Sometimes you think it’s easier to be sarcastic than be unabashedly nice to someone. Especially with Jongseong, whom you don’t expect kindness or patience from, you wait for him to stay something like, “No, that’s why I’ve stayed with you these eight years.” 

So when instead, he says, “More than anything on this Earth,” voice low and vulnerable, tears flow even harder. 

“Sorry, it’s probably just my period,” you say through sobs, although you have no idea where in her menstrual cycle this version of you is.

Jongseong chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You do get emotional around this time.” And you cry more, because you can’t believe someone other than your mother knows you so well that they know what your period symptoms are.

Rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering soft words in your ear, he holds you for as long as you need to calm down. When you finally do, he tells you to go sit on the couch, that he’ll finish up the dishes then heat and bring your food for you. You think you’ve got your emotions under control, but the moment you bite the pasta, cooked to perfection with the most succulent tomato sauce you’ve ever had, sweet with a little kick of spice and a generous amount of parmesan cheese, tears start to fall again as if you had an endless stock of water behind your eyes.

“This is so good,” you mumble.

Jongseong smiles, his gaze full of affection miraculously directed at you as he tucks away strands of your hair so they don’t get in your eyes or in your food. “I’m glad, baby.”

You react to the nickname viscerally, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even understand them. “You haven’t called me that in ages.” You widen your eyes at yourself, wondering how this was something you even knew. But when you look at Jongseong, all he does is smile more.

“You’re right, I haven’t. I guess I was reminded of college. You cried all the time back then. As much as it pained me, I can’t say I wasn’t happy to be the one you always came to for comfort.”

You haven’t been through college yet, so you should be unable to tell whether this truly happened or not—and yet, the memories of the body you’re in all confirm what Jongseong just said. But it feels impossible—going to university with him, letting yourself be vulnerable enough with him to not only cry in front of him but let him comfort you. Whatever could have happened in the years between the present you know and your time at university for things to change so drastically?

But before you can make sense of any of it, Jongseong speaks again. “Why? Do you like it when I call you baby?”

Your stomach flips. Heat rises to your face at his words, the tone with which he said them, the things he was alluding to—you know that having children means you’d popped your cherry at some point, that you’d had sex with Jongseong specifically, but to be confronted with the fact was something else. 

“Maybe,” you mumble, and proceed to stuff your mouth with pasta so that you can’t incriminate yourself further.

He puts on a recent movie, something you should arguably be paying attention to, since you’re literally getting a glimpse into the future of cinema—you could steal the idea, go back to your present and sell it for an outrageous price.

But Jongseong’s presence next to you makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but him. The warmth emanating from him, the scent of his perfume envelop you, give you a sense of just how real this all is—despite how comfortable being with him like this feels, you’re still not convinced you’re not just in an unsettlingly vivid dream. You take one of his hands in yours, examining each finger, turning his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm, smoothing your thumb over his nails—it’s an undeniably human hand. Warm against yours, slightly rough. He’s started using hand cream, you think, all these winters when his dry hands would crack because of the cold coming up to your mind, teenage Jongseong’s hard refusal to wear any sort of cream to protect himself. Memories bob up to the surface: fixing his cracked hands up with a plaster, your tear falling on his hand, the both of you in your school uniforms in what looks like the school infirmary; awkwardly gifting him some hand cream the Christmas of that year, not looking at him as you hand him the small package. Saying, “It’s a waste of plasters for something that could be fixed so easily.” Him treating you to warm, spicy tteokbokki because he felt bad for not having gotten you anything, even though this was the first time either of you had ever given the other one a present.

As your fingers trail up from his hand to his forearm, his shoulder, his jawline, more memories flood your mind. Clumsy first kisses; squabbles of the kind you were already used to; lazy mornings in bed; hours spent in your kitchen or his, before you shared one, cooking dinner together; the way you felt when he proposed, a feeling so intense remembering it is almost unbearable now. Your eyes and fingers examine his face in detail—even though you’ve seen him almost every day since the start of high school, this feels like the first time you really perceive him. The delicate bow of his lips, the strong nose, the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. Your heart beats uncontrollably as you hold each other’s gazes, but you feel inexplicably relaxed at the same time, two nearly opposing realities fighting each other inside of you—one in which you and Jongseong regarding each other with such affection is unthinkable, the other in which it is daily routine.

“Movie not to your taste?” he asks, voice gentle, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Hm?”

He nods towards the TV screen. “I see you’re not paying much attention.”

“No. I have… things on my mind.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. “Yeah?” You think your heart might actually flatline when he brings you in closer to his chest, and, face buried in your hair, says, “You know, I’ve been thinking that the twins might want a younger sibling to play with soon enough…”

You’re not sure whether he actually wants a third child or if this is weird dirty talk that apparently turns parents on—all you know is that this is something future you will deal with, not high school senior you. 

You whip up your head at him, eyes wide in panic that he mirrors immediately. “Or—or not. Later. Later?” You nod fervently, and the worry dissipates from his handsome features. “Okay, later,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head before returning his attention to the movie. 

A couple hours later, you’re laying in bed in the dark together—you can tell Jongseong is falling asleep by the regularity of his breathing and his stillness, but you’re wide awake. You don’t know how you’ve managed to spend all this time with him, acting like the wife he knows and loves, without imploding. But suddenly, the idea of waking up in your childhood bed, surrounded by your pink-and-white walls, going downstairs to be greeted by your brother and parents, sends a wave of panic through you. You haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time—Jongseong’s arm draped over your waist, the fact that you could reach over and feel his skin against your palm if you wanted. You don’t want to go back to a time where you hate him. In fact, you don’t know if you could hate him after this.

“Jongseong?” you say softly, the syllables unfamiliar on your tongue, even though the name rings brusquely through your head for the best part of every day.

It takes a few seconds, but he reacts eventually. “Hm? Did you just call me Jongseong?” he murmurs sleepily, as if you’d just called him Robert or Christopher and not the name his own parents gave him.

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “Now that’s something you haven’t called me in ages. Makes me feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, turning over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and one of your hands comes up reflexively to feel the softness of his close shave.

“...Jong?” you try.

“That’s a step up, but not quite what I want,” he mumbles.

You’re silent for a few moments. “Honey,” you say tentatively, voice a mere whisper.

“That’s better.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Will you be here in the morning?”

“Mh-hm. It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

“No,” you say, feeling out of breath. “I mean, will you be here?”

You’re aware you’re not making much sense—and yet, Jongseong needs no further explanation. “Of course, baby,” he starts, voice soothing. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day afterwards. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too,” you find yourself saying, and, more importantly, meaning. It’s the last thing either of you says before falling asleep.

--

Tears are streaming down your face when you wake up the next day. When you open your eyes, pink and white obnoxiously stare back at you. The clock reads 7:12, just three minutes before your alarm goes off, and unfortunately for high school you, the night hasn’t given in to Saturday morning—it’s Tuesday, and you have to go to school and act as if you hadn’t just had the weirdest, most realistic dream of your life. You don’t even get a weekend to shake this weird feeling in your stomach off, you’re going to have to face Park Jongseong full force. At least, this will become your friends’ favorite bit for the foreseeable future.

They’re already sitting in the classroom when you get there, animatedly chatting to each other. You plop down in your seat in front of them, and when they see the sullen look on your face, ask you what’s wrong.

“Did you wake up during the night to play Hay Day again?” Kazuha asks, eyebrows knotted with genuine worry.

“I’m not that person anymore,” you reply. “No, I just had a really weird dream. More like a nightmare, really. It feels like I didn’t get any sleep.”

“What was it about?” Sunoo asks.

Your eyes dart back-and-forth between the two of them as you brace yourself for their reactions. Not wanting anyone else to overhear, you lean in conspiratorially. They mirror you. “I was married to Park Jongseong,” you whisper. As expected, they burst into laughter immediately, and you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms in annoyance. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny,” Kazuha retorts. “It’s ironic, even, considering how much you hate the guy.”

“Exactly!”

“But I guess even you know how ridiculous it is that you hate him, if your brain is able to imagine yourself being married to him,” Sunoo adds, shrugging. “It’s a good reminder that you’re literally the only person in this school with a vendetta against him.”

Kazuha nods energetically. “He picked up a pen for me, once. He’s a nice guy.”

You look around the room in panic. “Keep it down, will you?” you hush, despite the fact that no one is paying any attention to the three of you. You sigh, resolving yourself to telling them the entire truth. “But guys, I’m scared. I think this might be a sign.”

Their eyebrows perk up. “A sign that your hatred of him has actually been disguising a crush this entire time?” Sunoo asks, feigning innocence.

“No—what? Where did you get that idea?”

“Nowhere. Go on.”

“Whatever. Come here,” you say, gesturing for them to huddle again. “It’s the well.”

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’ve actually lost it,” Kazuha says, fascinated by your stupidity.

“I’m not going to tolerate any well slander, this is serious. I just wanted it to reassure me that there was someone out there for me. And then I had that stupid dream.”

Kazuha and Sunoo exchange a look like they’re parents trying to announce to their daughter that she’s adopted. “Y/N…” Sunoo starts.

“This is crazy. Like, love philters and writing Park Sunghoon’s name a hundred times are one thing, this is…”

“Crazy,” Sunoo said, nodding along. “This is crazy. There’s no other word for it. Your eighteen years of boyfriendlessness have finally caught up to you.”

“You guys don’t get it. What about that time I asked it to give me a good grade on our Literature exam and I literally came first out of our class? Or when I told it I missed Jung Hae-in and his military discharge announcement came the next day?” you say, aware that the look in your eyes is only confirming their suspicions—but you need someone to believe you, or at the very least understand you.

“One, you’re a good student. Two, that was pure coincidence,” Sunoo explains.

“But girl, if you want to marry Jay, that’s fine. You’ve got our blessing,” Kazuha says, shrugging.

“Yeah. He picked up her pen, once,” Sunoo adds.

“And you know, you guys clearly have some sort of chemistry.”

You scoff. “If you think that him refuting my every word and finding every opportunity to make fun of me, then yeah, I guess you could say we have chemistry.”

“You guys have banter,” Kazuha says as if it’s obvious.

“Oh, please. Banter is cute. I want to kill him every time he opens his mouth.”

Your friends both roll their eyes. “While I understand that most men are better off staying quiet—no offense, Sunoo—”

“None taken.”

“You have to admit Jay is not nearly as insufferable as you make him out to be,” Kazuha says.

“Are you kidding me? He’s always acting like a child. Rubbing it in my face when he gets a better grade, trying to start arguments for no reason, sucking up to teachers, stealing my erasers, for God’s sake, you’d think he’s twelve. I know that I’m not on the majority's side, but I seriously cannot understand how other people tolerate him at all.”

Sunoo sighs. “Because he’s nice to everyone. He never hesitates to help people, he’s even funny, sometimes, and—well, look at him.” He nods his head towards the door, and when you turn around, Jongseong is indeed walking in the classroom. “He’s not a bad-looking boy.”

“Gosh, Sunoo, maybe you should marry him,” Kazuha says, but since you laid your eyes on Jongseong, you’ve stopped listening.

You feel weird. You look at him, and you feel weird. It’s the same feeling you had during your sleep last night, a feeling that paralyzes you from head to toe, that starts in your stomach and spreads to your entire body, weighs you down in your chair. 

“Hey, guys,” he greets simply, and his voice wraps itself around your heart and squeezes. You can’t do anything but watch him as he takes his seat next to you, plopping his bag on the table and taking his notebook out. He looks at you, watches you watching him, then swivels around in his chair.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asks your friends.

“She had a dream that she m—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Zuha, if you want to live to see another day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replies, a satisfied little smile on her lips.

Despite yourself, you’re still staring at Jongseong, trying to figure out what the hell these emotions are that are raging up a storm inside of you. Instead of ignoring you, he turns to face you, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm as he stares back at you, smirking. “What’s up, Y/N? Has it finally dawned on you how devastatingly handsome I am?” he asks, and you frown, because he’s not so far off from the truth.

“Please, kids, it’s 9 a.m., don’t flirt right in front of us,” Sunoo says, despair in his voice.

“She’s the one who started it,” Jongseong replies, still looking at you, his smirk growing.

For some reason, this startles you out of your trance, and you look away from him like you’ve been burned, preoccupying yourself instead with your notes for this class. “In your dreams, Jongseong,” you mumble.

“More like in yours,” Kazuha says, her and Sunoo giggling.

“Zuha!” you exclaim. Jongseong looks at you with raised eyebrows, and with his infuriating capacity to put two and two together, you’re scared he’s figured out what she meant, but you’re literally saved by your teacher who walks in at that moment and starts the class. 

The second the bell rings to signify the end of the class, you hurriedly pack your things and mutter an excuse about needing the bathroom, trying to get as far away as possible from the boy whose all-too familiar scent had messed with your thoughts all class, whose every brush of his arm against yours had made your heart race uncontrollably.

--

It hadn’t just been a dream. It couldn’t have been.

Just like there was no doubt the 28-year-old Jongseong from last night had once been the annoying boy you knew, the 18-year-old Jongseong was sure to one day become the husband of your dreams. A devoted partner and father, his presence comforting, his good looks indeed devastating, unwavering.

There was no mistake to be made. The well had worked its magic.

Whether you liked it or not, you would end up marrying Park Jongseong. You, of all people; him, of all people.

Was there already something of your future husband in the boy that snickered when you mixed up your genders in German class, or would he one day spring out of nowhere? Apparently, you’d be around to find out.

But for now, how to act around him? It felt unfair that you were privy to this knowledge of your shared future while he was ignorant of it. Blissfully, perhaps. You couldn’t imagine that he would rejoice much at this news.

Your mind is somewhere else the entire day. At lunch, your other friends try to get the thing that’s obviously bothering you out of you, but Kazuha and Sunoo are there to tell them not to bother. You’d needed to tell someone about it, but you don’t want the entire school to know about your marital premonitions. The two knuckleheads you call your best friends are already doing a good enough job teasing you about it—”There’s your husband, Y/N,” when Jongseong walks past; “So have you thought of baby names? Kayleigh and Mackayleigh, perhaps?” unsolicited, during Physics. You turn around to check on the culprit — because yes, Jongseong is the culprit here, you, a mere a victim — and when he notices you staring, nods at you as if to say, What’s your problem?, trying to look threatening in his white lab coat that’s three sizes too big and protective goggles.

It doesn’t help that Jongseong has a way of hovering around you. Even in classes in which your teachers assigned the seats for you, he’s never far from your seat. The two of you sit next to each other in German, your last class every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. But today, the seat next to you is empty—what would’ve been a cause for celebration just yesterday is now a source of worry. You’d seen him just two hours ago in your previous class together, so where the hell was he now? He’s lucky that your teacher is an old German lady who always spends the first ten minutes of the lesson rambling about something in dialectal German no one understands but nods along to anyway. When he walks into the room, five minutes late, she just says, “Hallo, Jay,” and continues with her story. It’s about her first school trip to Berlin when she was fifteen and the country was still divided. You think.

He winks at you when he takes his seat and you roll your eyes. You pretend to listen to your teacher for thirty seconds, then hit him gently with your elbow. “Where were you?” you ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t answer immediately, probably surprised you initiated a non-hostile conversation with him for once. “I was just hanging out with my friends, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

And your friends wondered why you hated him?

“Still having imaginary friends at eighteen is really concerning, Jongseong. You should see someone about it.”

When you glance at him, he’s already looking right at you, smiling. You’ve never felt so conscious of your side profile. 

“Why? Were you worried?” he whispers, kicking your foot with his.

You look at him, horrified—where the hell had he gotten that idea? How was he so spot-on? You scoff, trying to diffuse the tension inside yourself. “No.”

He kicks your foot again. “I was five minutes late and you started to worry?”

“No. Stop.”

“I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Y/N.”

This time, you give him a harsh look, one that lets him know you really mean your words—“Stop it.” Finally, he relents, getting the assigned homework out now that the teacher has actually started the lesson. Your face softens—he looks hurt. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings.

Despite what you might say, you like the way things are with Jongseong. If some people always need to be crushing on someone, you always need to have someone you perceive as an enemy—it was Na Jaemin in elementary school, because he’d once made fun of your incapability to climb the monkey bars; Shin Ryujin, in middle school, for kissing your crush during a game of spin-the-bottle at your own birthday party; Park Jongseong, since freshman year, for simply existing. Your reasons for disliking him are trivial, you’ll admit. You weren’t sure you could even place a finger on what had first triggered your disdain towards him—one too many awful jokes, one too many times raising his hand in class and rattling off a perfect answer, then looking around himself proudly, one too many roars of laughter heard throughout the entire cafeteria. The fact that no one else seemed to be bothered by him only added to your aggravation. He just got on your nerves, and it seemed that you openly showing your dislike of him — him, who was so used to being loved by everyone around him, pampered by his family, praised by his teachers, popular among his peers — was enough to make him dislike you, too. So, after a few failed attempts at trying to be your friend, because Jongseong was unable to not be friends with everyone he met, he didn’t simply give up. 

If he couldn’t be your friend, then fine, he’d be your enemy.

At least, that’s how it appears to you, still now. It’s never gone dangerously far, but if there’s an opening to tease you or get on your nerves, he’ll do it. Not passing you the ball during soccer, or conversely, only aiming for you during dodgeball, not sharing his textbook with you when you forgot it unless you beg, loudly clearing his throat when you speak in class. And, lately, pouring salt on your wounds in the form of reminding you how impossible you and Jake Sim are. His motto must be if there’s a will, there’s a way. And when it comes to making your life hell, his will is infinite.

Everything is upside-down now. The question of how your relationship can possibly go from this to that obsesses you. It feels like you’re more capable of sharing a funeral, dying at each others’ hands, than a wedding. 

“Jong, your textbook.”

He squints at you. “Funny how I’m Jongseong when you hate me, Jong when you need a textbook,” he says, sliding his book closer to himself.

“It’s not my fault your name is a mouthful,” you retort, trying to pull it back to the middle of the table, but he’s quicker than you.

“Then maybe you should call me Jay, like everyone else on Earth.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Now give it here. Please?” you ask, mustering your best smile. Any other teacher would’ve scolded the two of you by now, but Ms. Schumacher is peacefully going on about the importance of word order and punctuation in the German sentence, oblivious to her two students bickering in the back row. Jongseong usually never sits at the back of the classroom—only here.

He gives in, smiling back, but there’s something behind it, something that tells you nothing good is brewing in his brain. “Only because you’re so pretty.”

Normally, this kind of remark would’ve warranted a slap on the arm or an array of insults, but if today is anything, it is not normal. You look at him like you’ve been stung, visions of your not-dream coming to you in flashes like you’re the titular character on That’s So Raven—the affection in your husband’s eyes, the kindness in his words, the sincerity in his smile. Again, you’re left to wonder if this man is already taking root inside of the boy next to you, if Jongseong’s future capacity to love you presently exists in his heart.

Does your future capacity to love him already exist in your heart?

You watch as his smirk softens into a grin, your flusteredness and lack of a response clearly amusing him, then as he circles the exercises Ms. Schumacher is assigning for the lesson. She seems to have forgotten there was homework due—Jongseong will be sure to remind her of it quickly.

He kicks your foot again, tells you to focus. His ears have turned red.

You wonder if those capacities haven’t existed from the start.

--

As much as you love a good friends-to-lovers story, characters hiding their feelings out of fear of ruining the friendship have never failed to frustrate you — just tell her, you dummy, it’s obvious she likes you too — and yet, you’ve never related more than now.

Whatever it is that you and Jongseong have, you don’t want to lose it. It adds entertainment to your otherwise average life. 

“Good thing she didn’t pick on you while we went over the homework, ‘cause you clearly put zero effort in. And I wouldn’t have helped you, even if you’d asked, by the way.”

You hum absent-mindedly as you put your notebook and pencil holder in your bag. Are you sure that these are even your feelings in the first place? Just because the well put a silly idea in your head doesn’t mean you have to believe it like it’s scripture. If what you saw is real, then it will happen in its own time. Things don’t have to start changing right this instant.

“Gosh, Y/N, what’s up with you today? You’re so boring,” Jongseong continues, following you out of the classroom. 

“Just tired,” you reply. Wouldn’t it be unnatural if you were to radically alter the way you behave with Jongseong? Love should come about organically. Sure, his presence has always provoked some kind of reaction within you, but that’s usually been annoyance. Whether he’s stealing the fifth eraser you’ve bought that month or running on the soccer field, beads of sweat running down his temples, hair sticking out everywhere, victoriously smiling when his team scores—you’re annoyed. Whether he’s sticking up his hand higher than yours or going to the school dance with Ahn Yujin—you’re annoyed. When you learned that she’d been his neighbor since infancy and that she had a boyfriend, who went to another school and only trusted Jongseong to take her to the dance, you were still annoyed—this time at yourself for feeling even the tiniest bit relieved that nothing was going on between them.

And this — his quick steps trying to keep up with yours, his dumb story about yogurt coming out of Heeseung’s nose today at lunch when they were laughing too hard — yes, you’re still annoyed. But you realize you’re not annoyed at him.

You’re annoyed at how he makes you feel.

“Y/N?” he says, but you’re too deep in your thoughts, only vaguely registering the sound until he repeats it, louder this time, and grabs your hand, making you abruptly stop walking. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice. “You’re barely listening to me. I mean, it’s not like you usually really do, but you’d have told me to get lost, like, five minutes ago now…”

He chuckles self-deprecatingly, but despite his words, you’re focusing on something else yet again. His hand on yours, his loose hold on your fingers. Your brain is yelling at you—hold his hand, hug him. It’s like there are still traces of the 28-year-old version of you you visited yesterday, urging you to behave like her and not 18-year-old you. 

So, the well had let you know that you need not look much further to find what you wanted. Here it is, in the form of a boy you have convinced yourself you hated, and hated you, and yet, he’s holding your hand, asking you if you’re okay, worry knotting his eyebrows together. 

Hold his hand. Hug him. Instead, you retract your hand, let it fall limply by your side. Jongseong’s eyebrows shoot up.

He’s so close, the supposed love of your life. You don’t know how to reach out to him.

For now, you smile. “Get lost, Jong.”

--

you guys how the hell do i act around jongseong now that i know our fates are romantically intertwined

kazuha i think not treating him like the number one public enemy would be a good start

you so what… be nice to him? how do i do that

sunoo oh my god y/n when she has to treat another person like a regular human being

you he’s not just another person!

sunoo okayyyyy i see you little miss repressed feelings

you i hate u

kazuha just don’t roll your eyes at everything he says anymore and don’t start arguments for no reason

you he’s the one who starts them… but okay i’ll try

--

“Let’s pair up for the reading analysis today. You can stay with your deskmate or pick a partner, I don’t mind as long as you get the work done. I’m talking about you, Chaewon and Yuri. This is English class, not a gossip session.”

The second your English teacher has finished speaking, Jongseong swivels in his chair. “Let’s partner up, Y/N?”

“What about me?” Jake asks, eyes darting back-and-forth between the two of you.

“You can partner up with Minju,” Jongseong replies, pointing to the girl he’s usually seated next to. “Look. You guys will be great together. Say hi, Minju.” Minju waves shyly at Jake, braces on display as she smiles ecstatically. It’s not everyday that she gets to talk to one of the most popular guys in school.

Jake reluctantly switches seats with him, glancing back at you and Jongseong who just grins at him, fake friendliness plastered on his lips, until he turns around again. Your new partner’s smile softens and reaches his eyes when he looks at you. “Hi.”

You have to look away—you feel your face burn under his gaze. “Hi, Jong.”

He tilts his head. “What? Do you hate me so much that you can’t even look at me now?” he asks, and you can’t tell whether he’s joking or genuine.

You frown. “I don’t hate you.”

“Oh? That’s a recent development.”

“I guess,” you mumble after a few seconds. Is it really? You suddenly can’t remember if you ever really hated him, or if you’d exaggerated your own feelings.

His smile widens. “Well, good. I mean, you were going to have to realize at some point that I really am funny, smart, endearing, handsome-”

“Back to hating.”

“Let’s start the assignment.”

You agree on reading the passage first, but you realize halfway through that not a single word has been absorbed. “Hey. Why did you switch seats with him?” you ask, whispering so as not to be overheard.

Jongseong shrugs. “I thought you wouldn’t want to work with him, considering…”

“Right.” You’re silent again, but only for a bit. “What’s it to you?” you mumble. 

He scoffs. “Sorry for trying to be considerate.”

“That’s not—”

“Let’s just focus on this.”

His sudden coldness vexes you. You know you should let it go — don’t start arguments for no reason, and all that — and you know it’s childish, but you can’t help yourself. You have certain reflexes you’re not particularly proud of when it comes to one Park Jongseong. “Let’s just focus on this,” you repeat, mocking his grumbling tone of voice and shaking your head like a puppet.

He glares at you. “Can you not act like a toddler for once?”

“Can you not be a dick for once?” you bite back.

“Y/N, Jongseong, I’m sure you’re having a fascinating conversation on the use of chiaroscuro in the text?” your teacher asks, a look of warning on his face.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassed.

“Yes, so much chiaroscuro,” Jongseong mumbles, resting his cheek on his knuckles. When the teacher has turned away, he kicks your foot. “See, you’re getting us in trouble.”

“Do you even know what chiaroscuro is?” 

He hesitates. “That’s not the problem here. You are.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t-”

“Y/N, Jay, final warning.”

“Sorry,” you both say at the same time. With one last glare at each other, you finally get to work.

So your plan to start getting along with Jongseong isn’t in full-force yet. On the drive back home that afternoon, you reassure yourself that these things take time. When the moment is right, the two of you will grow closer.

--

But increasingly, it feels as though the right moment will never come.

Two months have passed since your visit to the well, and things between you and Jongseong have not changed. Not really, at least.

You still bicker like cat and dog — it goes without saying that you’re the cute puppy and he’s the heartless cat — and he gets as much on your nerves as ever, especially now that you know that the potential to be nice to you, to love you, even, exists somewhere inside him. Somewhere deeply hidden perhaps, but somewhere nonetheless. Of course, after telling yourself that what must come will come of its own accord, you haven’t done much to change the dynamic between the two of you. But if you used to see your retaliations against him as necessary to your survival, you now find some sort of enjoyment in them—some might call it Stockholm Syndrome, you perceive it as a step in the right direction. You’ve followed one of Kazuha’s pieces of advice: you don’t roll your eyes at him anymore, simply because you don’t feel the need to. You argue with him with a smile on your face, his attempts at insulting or annoying you have started to make you laugh.

He doesn’t say anything but seems to gladly welcome this change. If you get a lower grade than him on a test, he doesn’t try to stick the knife in further, but genuinely offers to go over it with you later. If you give in after two hours of tearing your hair out over a German exercise and text him for help, he doesn’t make fun of you. If he says something particularly arrogant or makes a really bad joke, all you need to do is give him a look, and he’ll mumble an apology. 

Could it have been like this the entire time? you wonder, watching him across the schoolyard as he and Heeseung hunt for Pokémon. Just a couple months ago, you would’ve scrunched your nose at the sight, making fun of him for his childish interests. Now, you notice the way he laughs, audible all the way to where you sit with Kazuha and Sunoo, the way he jumps excitedly and points at things only he and his friend see, and all you feel is endearment.

“Look at you, look at that,” Sunoo says as he hits you on the forehead with his metal spoon, startling you. He tuts. “You’ve got love dripping from your eyes, sweetie.”

“Sunoo, that’s disgusting.”

“Love? I know.”

“No, your spoon. Your saliva’s all over that,” you say, and all he does is eat another mouthful of his yogurt while staring wide-eyed right at you. When you look back at Jongseong, he’s high-fiving Heeseung. You wonder which creature he’s caught now. In the library yesterday, he spent thirty minutes showing you every single one he had captured so far instead of revising for the upcoming Physics test.

“Yeah, we know you’d like someone else’s saliva more,” Kazuha chimes in, and the two of them snort.

“It’s not like that,” you say, biting into an apple slice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like, then?” Kazuha asks.

“We’re… becoming friends,” you say, but you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince more.

“Y/N, I’ve had to watch the two of you giggling to yourselves in the library one too many times to believe you’re friends. I know your homework’s not that funny,” Sunoo argues.

“Friends can giggle with each other!” you exclaim, but your friends are inflexible.

“I would tell you to get yourself together if you giggled at me like that,” he says.

“I saw you twirl your hair the other day,” Kazuha adds.

“I never—When?!”

She shrugs. “The other day.”

You deflate, crushed under your friends’ accusations. “I wouldn’t twirl my hair…” you mumble. You decide to busy yourself with your apple slices, not even bothering to find out what Kazuha and Sunoo start snickering and elbowing each other about.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greets, making you look up. Jongseong smiles at you and steals an apple slice from your tupperware as he sits down next to you, Heeseung across from him.

“Hi, Jong,” you say, sitting up straighter. You offer a piece of fruit to Heeseung but he declines, saying he doesn’t like apples without peanut butter.

In front of you, your friends exchange a look, and you’re immediately terrified of what they’ll do next. Leaning in, they place their elbows on the table, and Kazuha starts them off. “Jay, you and Y/N know each other pretty well, right?”

Jongseong glances at you, eyes wide. “Uh, sure.”

“Have you ever noticed her, say, twirling her hair?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head innocently at the poor boy by your side.

You’ve never seen him look so confused. “Um, yeah, she does that when she’s concentrating on something, sometimes…”

They lean back. “Huh,” Kazuha says, studying Jongseong’s face.

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Sunoo says, slowly nodding.

You glare at your friends. “See, that’s different,” you tell them. “I was concentrating on something, not doing… whatever you guys had in mind.”

Jongseong looks at you. “What did they have in mind?”

You answer before either of them can dig your grave any deeper. “Nothing. It’s nothing. We were just having a stupid conversation.” You muster your most convincing smile, and the subject is finally dropped.

No one says anything for a few moments, until Heeseung decides to speak up: “You should’ve seen Jay earlier, Y/N. He caught this super rare version of Pikachu earlier, it was awesome.”

“Dude…” Jongseong murmurs.

“What?” Heeseung asks, his enthusiasm quickly dissolving into confusion. Jongseong just shakes his head. Thankfully for all of you, the bell rings then, and you head to class. The three of them walk in front of you while you and Jongseong fall back a step.

“Why were you guys sitting outside? It’s freezing today,” he asks you. Walking side-by-side like this, you can’t help but notice the inches he has over you, the broadness of his shoulders in comparison to yours.

“They turned the heat way too high in the cafeteria, so we came outside for some fresh air,” you explain. He’s right, the air is chilly today—it’s a few days into December, and the temperatures have been accordingly low.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Your heart skips a beat. One of the side effects of not being at each other’s throat anymore was that you got more and more often to be privy to this side of Jongseong—attentive, considerate, kind. What you once thought were his moral attempts at not being so mean to you all the time, you found out was actually his real nature. He wasn’t a prick who was sometimes nice, he was a nice person who turned into a prick with you. Whether the fault lay on him or you was another debate.

“No, I’m alright,” you say, but your body decides to betray you and makes you sneeze three times in a row.

“Bless you,” Jongseong says, laughing. “Here.” You try to stop him, pushing his hands away, but he takes his gloves off and forces them in your palms.

“I’m going to be inside for the next four hours, Jong, I’ll be fine. Keep them.”

“No, it’s okay. Just so you can warm up quicker.”

You eventually give in, putting the gloves over your hands, laughing at the extra fabric that hangs off the tip of your fingers. But when you look at Jongseong’s now-bare hands, something catches your attention. Stopping in the hallway, you grab one of them, examining the cuts on his knuckles. “You need to wear hand cream, Jong, your hands are too chapped.”

He lets you turn his hand over, smooth over his skin, do the same thing with his other hand. “Men don’t wear hand cream,” he says, a grin on his lips.

You burst out laughing. “I think that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Seriously, though, I don’t like the way it feels. Too sticky.”

“You just need to get a quick-absorption one.” Then, you make the terrible mistake of looking up from his hand and meeting his eyes—you gasp silently, his gaze and soft smile transporting you right back to that night, the images of 28-year-old and 18-year-old Jongseong mixing into each other, becoming indistinct from each other. Your gaze drifts down to his lips — chapped, too, when they’re usually plumper, rosier — and his hand, still in yours, balls into a fist. The second bell rings and you both take a step back, eyes meeting again for a brief moment before looking down at the floor. With uncharacteristically shy, embarrassed words of parting, you make your separate ways to your next classes.

“That was beautiful, Y/N,” Sunoo says, waiting for you by the door, and you walk past him without so much as a glance.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

--

sunoo jay and y/n almost kissed earlier

kazuha WHAAAAT

you KIM SUNOO.

kazuha WHEN?????

sunoo right before class after the lunch break y/n was sooo embarrassed afterwards lol

you we did NOT almost kiss you’re talking out of your ass

kazuha i can’t believe i missed this fml

you YOU DIDNT MISS ANYTHING NOTHING HAPPENED

sunoo be serious u guys we’re standing inches apart

you were* and no we weren’t

sunoo oh stfu it was autocorrect i saw it w my own eyes y/n… you WERE literally holding his hand and staring into those beautiful eyes of his

kazuha sunoo…?

sunoo what can’t a man acknowledge another man’s objective attractiveness if i was y/n i would’ve folded the moment i saw him

you literally one of the first times he talked to me was to make fun of my handwriting

sunoo yeah he’s on his tsundere shit i fw it

you …

sunoo anyways zuha you shouldve seen it when the bell rang they practically leaped away from each other and u didnt know what to do w yourselves afterwards likeeee it was so obvi what you both were thinking of

kazuha cuuuute

you i resent these accusations.

sunoo istg if u dont kiss him next time i will

kazuha ???

you SUNOO?

sunoo WHAT

--

Something happens a few days before the start of winter break.

Ms. Schumacher is absent, gone off to Germany to visit her family there—she has enough seniority in the school that they let her abandon her responsibilities as a teacher once in a while. A week is too short a period of time for them to bother finding a substitute. It’s usually your last class of the day, but you have to wait around for your dad to be done working, so while most of your classmates have gone home early, you sit with about six other people in the unsupervised study room, absent-mindedly jotting down tid-bits of dialogue for your new story idea, too preoccupied with Jongseong’s absence to really pay attention to anything else. It’s fifteen minutes after the hour, but he’s nowhere to be found, although you know for a fact that he takes those weird Molecular Gastronomy cooking classes your Chemistry teacher offers for extra credit every Thursday after school, so he should be here. And anyways, if he’d gone home, he would’ve texted you something like, Have fun sitting around for an hour, I’m gonna go do awesome stuff with Heeseung, even if awesome stuff meant playing Mario Kart or drinking Sprite and holding a two-person burping contest.

You’re so engrossed in your own thoughts that you pay no mind to the sudden ding of a phone in the room, followed by some gasps and heated whispers. The exchanged words go through one ear and out the other—There was a fight? In the locker rooms? It must be bad if they were sent to the nurse before the principal… Huh? Over who? So he took both of them on? Damn, I didn’t know Jay got like that. He seems so well-behaved.

Your head whips up at the mention of your friend’s name. “Jay? Did something happen to him?” you ask out loud, the whispers dying down immediately as everybody stares at you. 

Gaeul, who was in your class last year, is the only one who answers you. Holding up and waving her phone, she says, “They say he got into a fight.”

Jongseong? A fight? It sounds like a practical joke. He admitted to you he once started crying watching Heeseung playing Call of Duty, it was so violent. You shake your head. “He-he did? With who?”

Gaeul and the girl next to her exchange a concerned, almost guilty look. “Jake and Sunghoon.” The crease between your eyebrows deepened. You don’t need to ask anything else before she adds, “They’re at the nurse’s station. It sounds pretty bad…”

That’s enough for you to leap out of your chair and run to the nurse’s station. It seems the news has spread impossibly quickly among your year group—even Kazuha and Sunoo are already blowing your phone, asking you if you’ve heard, if you know how Jay is. You ignore them, reminding yourself to text them back later, until one message from Sunoo in particular catches your attention: It apparently started because Sunghoon said something about you, Y/N. They’re saying Jay got angry.

The nurse is busy on the phone when you get there, her back to the entrance, so you’re able to slip in unnoticed. You head to the adjoining room where the beds are, all three of them taken—you walk by Sunghoon first, his arms crossed over his chest and pointedly not looking at you, then by Jake, who calls out your name. You glare at him and pull on the white plastic curtain that separates his bed from Jongseong’s. They’re already going to hear you, you don’t need them seeing you on top of that. 

Jongseong sits up with a grunt when you appear at the end of his bed. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, and not in a good way, for once—his left eye is swollen and circled by a deep purple bruise, shiny with ointment, there’s a cut on his cheek, his lower lip is busted, his right hand is wrapped in bandages. “Oh my God,” you whisper as you help him up, voice breaking. He stares at his hands, jaw locking when you gently place one palm on his good hand, the other on the side of his face, moving it this way and that so you can take a better look at his injuries. He winces, and you let go, resting your hand on his shoulder instead. “What the hell got into you?” you whisper vehemently, unable to decide if you’re worried or angry or both as tears form in your eyes.

He tries to shrug, but even that seems to hurt. “Don’t shrug, Jongseong, tell me what happened.”

“I’m Jongseong again now?” he says, attempting a smile, but only one corner of his lips rises.

You sigh. Even in this state, he has to be a smart-ass. “You’re Jong when I need a textbook, Jongseong when you get into stupid fights,” you reply, and he smiles wider but immediately winces, hand coming up to the cut on his lip. You notice that his hand is still riddled with cracks, and whether they’re due to their dryness or to this fight doesn’t matter—”Wait here,” you say, and go rummage through some drawers for plasters. “She forgot some spots.” You feel Jongseong’s eyes on your face as you patch him up to the best of your abilities.

“I don’t want to tell you what happened. I’ll do the job of hating these idiots for the both of us, so don’t concern yourself with them,” he says, apparently not caring that the idiots in question can hear his every word.

He keeps his promise—you never hear another word from him about the cause of the fight. 

Later, you find out through other means, namely Sunoo’s questionably remarkable ability to unearth any and all gossip, that in the locker rooms after Phys Ed, someone had started Jake on the topic of Yunjin, who had been recently revealed as his girlfriend. They’d apparently kept it secret because it was just fooling around at first, and only later had gotten serious enough for them to parade around the school as the couple. 

It had been an unremarkable conversation until Jake said, “You guys know Y/N from our class? She saw us in the staff parking lot once, and I was sure we’d be busted then. But she didn’t tell anyone.” And just like that, the conversation turned to you, someone who was usually never a topic among these boys, jocks, soccer players, “the kind of people who peak in high school and still have a superiority complex at forty,” as Sunoo describes them. 

He has a harder time explaining what happened next, can’t quite look you in the eye as he recounts what was said. “So, this is what they say, apparently someone said that you used to be obsessed with Sunghoon, then with Jake, and Sunghoon said you… Well, he said you were pathetic, that asshole, and that you had been so easy to lead on, then Jake joined in, saying the same things, basically, how funny it was seeing you so obviously in love with him when he would never give you a chance…” He looks at you worriedly, but you tell him to go on. “And so that’s when Jay got up and just straight-up punched Jake in the face. And while Jake was trying to figure out what happened, Jay punched Sunghoon, and then they both got on him, pushing him, but when he wouldn’t stop throwing punches, they started fighting, too. I think they all got some good ones in before the other boys were able to break them apart and the P.E. teacher arrived…”

But that would be later. Now, sitting with Jongseong in the nurse’s station, tears falling onto the plasters you place on his hand, nothing matters but him. You don’t need the details—he’s hurt, he got hurt over you, you feel as though every cut on his body may well have been done by your own hand. You’ve never felt so guilty for something you didn’t do. Your voice trembles when you speak; you’re unable to look at him, at his busted eye. “I just don’t want you to get hurt for me.”

Without missing a beat, he says, “What else would I get hurt for?”

You can only meet his eyes for a split second. Even like this, he manages to look at you with the same softness that has haunted you since the night you met 28-year-old Jongseong, that has rendered all thoughts of anything other than him meaningless since the day your gaze drifted down to his lips just weeks ago. “Jong…” is all you can mutter as you look down at your hands holding each others’, your lips trembling.

He raises his bandaged hand, still not used to his dominant side being ineffective for now, then lowers it when he realizes. Clumsily, he pats your hair with his left hand. “Don’t cry, please…”

Jake’s head pops out from behind the curtain. “Y/N, I’m really sorry—”

“Not right now, man,” Jay quickly interrupts. Jake pathetically disappears behind the curtain again.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again.”

“Y/N…”

“Promise me,” you say, more demanding this time, sticking out your pinky finger. Jay, hesitant, looks between your outstretched finger and your face a few times, but eventually gives in.

The nurse, upon coming to check on the boys, catches you with Jongseong and chases you out immediately. You sulk back to study hall, where everyone’s head perks up the moment you walk in. “They’re okay,” you reassure vaguely, and unenthusiastically answer their many questions. It’s only a few minutes until the bell rings, and you’re free to go then.

--

jong so… guess who got a five-day suspension

you you idiot what did your parents say?

jong they’re not happy i have to do all the household chores for a month

you boo-hoo

jong not sure why i came here thinking i’d get some comfort…

you … are you feeling better?

jong a little bit the nurse gave us some really strong painkillers but i’m okay because there’s a pretty girl that’s going to drop off the homework for me after school every day :)

you oh did you ask chaewon to do that?

jong um no i was talking about you ..if that’s okay

you haha i know i just wanted you to say it straight up

jong ykw maybe i should just ask chaewon

you i’ll see you tomorrow jong!!

jong :) see you tomorrow pretty 

 --

The months that separate your return to school and graduation come and go in the blink of an eye. Jongseong can’t come to school the last day before the holidays or the first four days after, and he’s grounded in-between. Things change bit by bit with every day you visit him—To give him the homework, you tell his parents, although there isn’t much to do when the semester isn’t in full swing, and you could’ve easily sent him pictures. The first time, you spend more time scouring the pictures and trinkets in his room than actually talking to him, and awkwardly give him a half-hug when he tells you he won’t be able to hang out at all during the break before practically running out of his house, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute from the innocent contact. By the fourth time, you lie together on his bed and talk about your plans for college, your hands sitting centimeters apart on the navy sheets. You haven’t dared touch his hand since that day in the nurse’s station.

You’re window-shopping with Kazuha when you spot the hand cream you had seen yourself gifting Jongseong in your well-given vision. Buying it is one thing, actually giving it to him is another, an awkward, stuttery situation in which the wrapping done by the store employee suddenly seems over-the-top and out-of-place. But Jongseong seems to like it—it’s the last day of his suspension, his black eye is now a yellow-ish color, he can smile without risking splitting his lip in two. He applies it immediately, tells you he’ll make sure to wear it every day until the end of winter. You find yourself wishing there was something you could give him for every season so he wouldn’t go a day without thinking of you. When you leave, he bashfully thanks you for making sure he doesn’t fall behind and says he’s excited to see you at school the next day. You hardly know what to do with yourself, so you squeak out a “me too” and slip out the door.

His first day back is a Friday. It starts with Mathematics, a class in which you sit by each other. You remember the first week of classes when Kazuha and Sunoo had ran to sit with each other, expressly because they knew that if he saw you were sitting alone, he’d take the seat next to you, just to better torment you all year. You’d resented it then; it couldn’t make you happier now. Your body is humming with nervous energy, your foot tapping relentlessly against the tiled floor. When he appears in the doorframe, you wave at him as if he’d forgotten his seat in three weeks of absence. His elbow brushes against yours as he sits down.

Between the two of you, friendship blossoms over these months. To the detriment of everyone around you, you continue to bicker as you always have, but it’s now clearly done out of habit, out of affection, even, than out of actual dislike of each other. He and Heeseung slowly integrate your small group of three, and before you know it, it feels as though there have always been five of you. Together, you welcome spring.

In January, to thank you for helping him to pick out his mom’s birthday present, Jongseong treats you to some tteokbokki, which you said you’d been craving all week. He orders the spiciest one, then has to take a sip of water between every bite. You laugh at his teary eyes and red face while you devour the bright red rice cakes easily. 

In February, he makes a show of giving you and Kazuha and Heeseung and Sunoo some homemade chocolates, saying it’s a friend thing. You find out that evening that the others each have five in their box—there are twenty in yours. It’s one of the things that makes you second guess what sort of feelings he has for you. For years, you’ve been convinced he harbored strong feelings of disdain for you; now, he seems to enjoy your friendship. You’re scared to read too much into anything, because if Jongseong is well-liked throughout school, it’s for a reason: he’s nice. To everyone. Even to you, too, nowadays. But if nice is giving five chocolates, what is giving twenty?

A sudden realization hits you in March—Jongseong appears at your door, drenched from the rain, a bag of your favorite snacks in hand. “You weren’t at school today. I had to find out you were sick from Kazuha,” he says as if she was a random classmate of yours and not your best friend, as if he should be the first to know about these kinds of things. Your mom rushes him in, finds him so charming in the five minutes they converse that she decides he should stay over for dinner, and as you watch him laughing with her, you think, I haven’t thought of 28-year-old Jongseong in ages. I’ve only thought of you. And although you can trace the start of your feelings to that dream-like experience you had, you can now say with confidence that it’s not the only reason for them.

College application results come out in April, right on his birthday. The five of you celebrate together at an American-style diner, gorging yourselves on crispy bacon and chocolate chip pancakes. Kazuha is going back to Japan, almost a decade after moving to South Korea—”I’m gonna miss you guys, but I miss takoyaki and my grandma more right now.” Heeseung has been accepted into the Engineering department at the country’s top university. You, Sunoo and Jongseong are all heading to the same place: you for Screenwriting, which you’ve known since you were one of the winners of the scholarship contest last October, Sunoo for Communications, whatever that is, and Jongseong for European History and Literature with a minor in German, that freak. It’s a good university, and it’s not far from home. The way Jongseong tells you about his acceptance sticks with you: he doesn’t say, They accepted me, too, or, I’m going to the same university as you. He says, We’ll be together.

May is filled with afternoons at the park when you should all be studying for exams. Your mom keeps asking when she’s going to see “that wonderful boy” again. Your friendship with Jongseong has given him new ways of teasing you—after four years of near-kleptomaniac tendencies, he’s finally stopped stealing your erasers and has instead started to let his gaze linger on your face, to call you pretty when you least expect it, to tuck your hair behind your ear. You hate it most when he asks you whether there’s something from your romance novels or movies that you want him to recreate. “Is there a field big enough nearby that I can walk through at the break of dawn, Mister Darcy-style?” he’ll say, or “I’ve always wanted to try that upside-down kiss from Spider-Man. It’s a classic, really.” 

Summer comes early in June. You need to bring a two-liter water bottle and a hand fan to your exams, and you’ve never felt such relief as when it was all over. After endless pictures with your parents and siblings, just your parents, just your siblings, then Kazuha and Sunoo, together, then separately, then with Heeseung and Jongseong as well, Kazuha forces you and Jongseong together, watching with a smile as he shyly wraps an arm around your waist and you awkwardly throw up a peace sign. It’s your first picture of just the two of you.

In July, you and Jongseong unlock a new first: saying goodbye. He’s leaving to stay with his American family as he does every summer. You show up at his house the day before at four p.m. “to help him pack,” you say, but it’s Jongseong, and he finished packing two days ago. So instead, you sit on his desk chair, he on his bed, and you fight back tears. “You’re coming back, right?” you ask, like he’s leaving to go to war and not Seattle. Amusement and affection flicker in his eyes. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t throw four more years of being a pain in your ass away, would I?” he says, and you smile, because you know it’s going to be much more than four years.

But he doesn’t just leave you with a few nice words. Avoiding your gaze, he hands you an envelope. Inside is a single ticket, a two-month membership for your city’s arthouse cinema that you can only go to when they have student deals or when your parents have had enough of your begging. You can’t even begin to imagine how much this must’ve cost. “Jong…” you murmur, in awe at the thin slip of paper between your hands. “This is incredible. Thank you so much.”

Jongseong looks down at his feet, fighting a smile as he kicks the invisible rocks that obviously litter the floor of his bedroom. “I thought you’d get bored without me around, so, that way you can entertain yourself, I guess… And if you run into any film bros next year, you’ll have seen as many pretentious movies as them.”

You burst into laughter then, and, without thinking, wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him over and over again. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around your waist and says it’s no big deal.

As you walk down the path from your house, he calls out your name. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says.

You smile. “Never.”

So, he’s not here for summer. Kazuha is working in her parents’ ramen restaurant to make some money before leaving, even Heeseung leaves two weeks into July for Seoul to visit some relatives there and get accustomed to life in the big city. You only get to laze around with Sunoo, but even he eventually leaves for his grandparents’ house by the sea, making you promise you’ll come visit him at some point, otherwise he’ll “die of boredom.” 

It’s August now, and your brain and body alike buzz with restlessness. You go to the cinema almost every day, making the best of your subscription. If you’re not going around your house looking for spider webs with your vacuum cleaner, you’re riding random bus lines and discovering parts of your town you’ve never set foot in before. If you’re not making your way through your never-ending pile of unread books, you’re creating your own stories, finally taking the time to properly outline and draft the one-line ideas you’ve had sitting in your Notes app, preparing yourself for the start of your degree. Your mind is taken up with love stories. From Romeo & Juliet to Dirty Dancing to Book Lovers, you can’t get enough of the genre. You become particularly obsessed with stories involving time travel, rewatching After Time and Lovely Runner like they contain some precious knowledge. By the end of the month, you’ve turned your life into an eight-episode TV series—a desperate girl makes a wish on a star only to discover she is fated to marry the one boy she hates most. You know you’d watch that. You send Sunoo and Kazuha the pilot, and after calling you insane numerous times but also heaping on praises, Sunoo says this: lol your going through jay withdrawals.

It shakes you so much you’re not even compelled to message back you’re*.

But he’s not wrong. The more you let yourself admit it, the more you realize how true it is: you miss Jongseong. You text once in a while, you’ve even stayed up late talking on the phone a couple of times, but you miss him, his corporeal form, having his gaze on you, having the possibility but never the courage to touch him. Every day, there’s something you want to tell him about. The cats huddling around a young neighborhood kid as he pours milk into a bowl, the clearance sale at your local library, most books for one buck only, the actor from an 90s Hong Kong film you swear has the exact same smile as him. You don’t want to bother him, so you write letters instead. Some you send, some you don’t—the ones you keep hidden in your drawer usually hint too obviously at your feelings for him. Some of them don’t just hint and contain lines of your declarations: I miss you, everything I see reminds me of you, I want to check that your bruises have healed completely even though the last trace of them faded months ago. You keep these letters a secret, even from Sunoo and Kazuha, who would never let you live down such woebegone, down bad behavior.

You do it because it feels good, getting all of your feelings out on paper. You’re a romantic at heart, so you’re prone to over-exaggeration when it comes to things like these—but everything that you write remains based in truth. You’d started with a postcard of your hometown, jokingly writing, Don’t forget where you came from. How is it over there? and he’d actually replied with a postcard of his own, filling it from top to bottom. You easily went from these small postcards to multiple pages of stream-of-consciousness-like writing. You think it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done—although you’re not sure he feels the same way, considering he still writes to the German pen pal Ms. Schumacher had assigned him in your first year of high school. No one else’s correspondence had lasted more than four months because she’d immediately forgotten to make sure you kept in touch regularly.

I ran into Jake Sim at the city library, you write one day. You’ve replied to everything in his latest letter, so you’re now catching him up on your recent adventures. He was checking out some books about Linguistics, of all things—he bought me bubble tea afterwards and told me that the injury he got last April was actually a relief. Did you know his father was a big name in soccer here? Apparently, he never wanted to be a soccer player that badly, and he wants to do Linguistics and Social Anthropology, who would’ve guessed it. He’s like Troy Bolton if High School Musical was about Humanities and not singing. Anyways, you probably don’t want me to go on and on about him, so I won’t, but we did talk about that fight you guys had back in December. He apologized for it, to you and me both, although he didn’t go into much detail — Sunoo is still the only one who’s had the balls to tell me exactly what happened, and he wasn’t even there! — and I was reticent at first, but he seemed genuine. He said he didn’t even hang out with Sunghoon or Yunjin or any of those people anymore, that it was only out of convenience really, and that he hopes starting university will be like turning over a new leaf. Well, he could be full of shit, who knows. As I sat there listening to him I wondered what it was I used to see in him. He’s nice enough, but we only spoke about him for the entire hour. He asked me no questions that weren’t “and you?” so it was a bit exhausting. 

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.

You look at your words, smiling to yourself—this is one of the times where you find yourself erring from the topic at hand, instead indulging in sappiness and nostalgia. You write about how your opinion of Jongseong has changed over these months, how it wasn’t seeing him as your husband in all those years that had really shaken things up, but rather that day in the nurse’s station, the frightening colors around his eye, his attitude like it was natural that he would get hurt like this for you. You write, Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

“I’m going to the Post Office for a package soon, Y/N. Are you done with your letter?” your mom calls from the staircase landing.

“Give me five minutes!” you call back.

You forage through your drawer for a new sheet of paper and re-write your letter, making sure to leave any compromising parts out and fold both letters into neat squares—one that will cross the seas and reach Jongseong, one that will live out its days in the darkness of your crowded drawer. You’ve run out of envelopes, so you go look for one in your parents’ office. Your mom calls out your name again, impatient to leave — if she sends her package off before twelve p.m., it will get to the receiver tomorrow, and she’s hell-bent on getting perfect five-star Vinted reviews — so you hurriedly put your letter in the envelope, close it, stamp it, and write Jongseong’s name and address on the back. The other letter you absent-mindedly throw in your drawer with the dozens of other letters in which you’d crossed the line.

--

A few weeks later, like an apparition, Jongseong stands before you again.

He’s tanner from months under the Washington sun, from afternoons spent at his family’s lake house, on their boat. His hair is slightly shorter and suits him even better; you don’t recognize any of the clothes he wears. He grumbles as his mother goes back-and-forth between hugging him, staring at him worriedly and reminding him to call at least twice a week while his father unpacks the trunk. “I’ll only be a thirty-minute train ride away, Mom,” he says. 

He’s still Jong.

You moved in yesterday, and you’re now waiting for your new roommate, who, after five minutes of deliberating whether she should bring a jacket or not and finally decided against it, changed her mind the minute she stepped outside. 

It’s been two months since you last saw him. Shortly after sending your letter, you’d gone to stay with Sunoo’s grandparents for a week, just a day before he was set to come back from Seattle. Amid packing and other preparations, you haven’t had time to see each other. Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texted you. You replied that it wasn’t a problem, you told him which dorm you’d been assigned and found out his was the one next door.

When he notices you staring, he does a double-take. You wave at him, and even from this distance, you see the blush that creeps up his neck and takes over his face as he shyly waves back. You’ve never seen him like this—he’s always been either arrogant or friendly, never… flustered. He makes a motion as if to say, I’ll text you, and heads inside the building with his parents and all of his luggage.  

Indeed, he texts you some hours later while you’re sharing a piece of strawberry and matcha cake with your roommate Liz, whom you find out is half-German—Jongseong and your dad would probably love her for that simple fact. Some of the first things she’d asked you were what your astrological signs were and whether you wanted her to pull tarot cards for you when she was all done setting up her side of the room. Between that and her dyed blonde hair, you’d felt comfortable telling her all about Jongseong, the well and your dream. Unlike your skeptical and sarcastic friends, she’d nodded along to your every word, a serious expression on her face. “A sign from the universe,” she’d called it, and she gasped in excitement when his name appeared on your screen.

He sends you a link to a freshers’ week event, some potted plant sale happening on the main campus square, and asks if you’re free to go with him tomorrow. I need something to liven up that depressing room, he writes.

So that’s how you find yourselves among green plants of all shapes and sizes, searching for one that’s both low-maintenance and appealing to the eye. You’re glad that you have something to actually do—if you were just sitting at a café and having a conversation, you’re not sure you’d be able to stand the awkwardness. You’d chalked up his behavior on the day of his move-in to nerves, or to surprise upon seeing you so unexpectedly. But apparently, it wasn’t a one-time thing. He keeps clearing his throat as if he were sick with some cold, won’t look into your eyes for more than split seconds at a time, and in complete opposition to his usual confident, deliberate speech, talks in a quick and disorderly manner. And he’s either really caught a cold, or his ears have just permanently turned red. You ask him if something’s wrong a couple times, but he violently shakes his head, says, “No, what could be wrong?” then looks at you as if you might tell him what’s wrong.

When you’re alone again, you wonder what on earth could have happened over the summer that could make him change his behavior with you so radically. Did something happen in Seattle? Maybe he met someone there and doesn’t know how to tell you. Maybe you went overboard with your letters, he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, he wants to let you down easy but doesn’t know how to tell you. Or maybe—maybe you got impossibly pretty during those two months, and absence does make the heart grow fonder, as they say, and every thought you have about him, he has about you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you.

In any case, he’s hiding something.

The theory that he might want to stop being friends soon falls flat—the invitations to other freshers’ events keep coming, be it free wine & pizza taster sessions from the Wine Society, karaoke nights with the Taylor Swift Society or a shark movie marathon with the Bad Film Society, and he never turns you down when you tell him there’s something you want to visit in this new city of yours, even when the thing you want to visit in question is a bakery you have to queue in front of at seven a.m. if you want to get a pain au chocolat. In your defense, they turn out to be the best ones you and Jongseong have ever tried—although, to be fair, neither of you has been to France.

Things progressively return to normal. He’s able to make eye contact for more than three seconds again, he listens carefully and laughs along when you tell him about your week by the sea with Sunoo, he fills you in on what Heeseung’s been up to. One thing remains different, however—when you throw quips at him, he usually would’ve delighted in coming up with a better, wittier response, but now, he’ll roll his eyes at best, look at you amusedly and stay silent at worst. “Won’t you even entertain me?” you ask him once, to which he replies that you’re doing a good job entertaining yourself as is. 

Instead, he becomes more earnest. As per usual you badger him with questions like Aren’t I so pretty right now? or Isn’t my outfit so cute today? to get a reaction out of him, and if during your high school days he’d either fake a puking sound or look you up and down and grumble I guess, he now smiles and simply says Yes, you are, Yes, it is. It seems impossible to keep track of his attitude: one day, he’s one thing, the next, he’s another person entirely. 

It annoys you. You take his changing demeanor to mean that now that he’s a college student, he won’t indulge in your childish squabbles anymore, as though he was above all of that now, when just three months ago he was stalking your parents’ Facebooks to find unfavorable photos of you from when you were thirteen and using them as reaction pictures in your friends’ group chat. You think of your graduation day, of the box he’d given you, all done up in wrapper paper and a bow—he had filled it with every eraser he’d stolen from you over the years, he’d even gone so far as to date every single one of them, from the second of October freshman year to the twenty-eighth of November of your senior year. You didn’t count them, but there had to be at least a hundred. At the time, you’d just thought it was funny—but what if the gesture had meant something deeper than you’d realized? What if he was marking the end of something with that box? No more playing around, we’re adults now. But classes have barely started, you don’t know your way to the off-campus library, you aren’t a different person to who you were just weeks or even months earlier. Why is he acting like he is? You look at him, and you see the boy whose fault it was you had to buy a new eraser every week—who knows how many books you could’ve bought with that money. But when he turns to look at you, too, and your eyes meet, you’re suddenly assailed with the memories of that night, the kind eyes, the soft smile. 

Does his future capacity to love me already exist in his heart?

Your heartbeat speeds up and you have to look away.

--

From your letters, it seems to be much hotter back home than in Seattle—you talk of sunburns, of afternoons spent inside with the fan on maximum speed, of ice melting instantly and watering down your Coke Zeros, whereas Jay can walk around the city pleasantly and needs to bring a jacket if he’ll be out until late after sundown. And yet, as he reads your latest letter, his skin prickles feverishly, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He’d excitedly torn the envelope open the second it arrived in the mail, heart thumping as he counted the pages, at least three more than usual — he was always happy that you wanted to talk to him at all, so the fact that you had this much to tell him sent him over the moon — but he would have never expected what was awaiting him inside.

With a smile on his face, he read your replies to the questions he’d asked you last time, your reactions to everything he told you about, the live Mariners game, the lake house, the rides on the boat. He imagined you as you sat at your desk in your room he’d only seen once, when you’d held a small party for your birthday and he, having arrived first, was honored with a tour of your house. He imagined your smile, the way you played with your hair when you focused on something, wondered whether you pondered every word before you wrote it down as he did or whether you poured your thoughts out onto the page without hesitation. His smile faltered when Jake Sim’s name appeared in your neat handwriting, but he was relieved to find out your description of him now was miles away from the one at the start of the school year. 

Then you start writing about him. Him, Park Jongseong, and your words startle him so much, it’s like he’d forgotten he was the recipient of this letter in the first place.

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. 

He’s been lying comfortably in his bed, but he sits up the moment his eyes take in these words. If there is one topic the two of you have practically never broached, it’s this exactly: your relationship, the changes it’s gone through this past year. Except for a few mentions made in jest here and there, you’ve always conveniently ignored the fact that not so long ago, you were at each other’s throats. At least, you were at his throat, and Jay let you be, let you think the hatred went both ways, when in reality all he wanted was to keep you close one way or another. To him, anything was better than indifference.

But here you are, writing about how you feel about him, not in hints, not in jokes, but actually telling him black and white what goes through your head when you think of him—in other words, everything he’s been dying to know ever since he met you and especially ever since you started warming up to him a few months ago.

I have never told you about that night because I know it’ll just be more fodder for you to endlessly tease me, and I haven’t even mentioned it in these letters that I write and don’t send. Sometimes I debate the ethics of it—if I know something about our futures, isn’t it right that you know, too? But then again, I still hesitate whether what happened was real or not. As with anything, the more time passes, the more I forget about it. What kind of cheese you’d put on the pasta, the movie that played in the background, whether the stairs were carpeted or wooded—these details have evaded me by now. All I clearly remember is your face and how I felt, seeing it then, seeing it the next day at school, ten years younger, the same exact person in what felt like a different universe. As much as I tried to deny it, I know now that it was no coincidence—I was talking about it with Sunoo and he said that sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. He’s not always a dimwit. And he’s right, the kind of love I felt from you in that dream — or not-dream — I’ve yearned for it ever since I first watched Pride & Prejudice, the 2005 film to be precise, when I was ten. But with you? That was what I couldn’t believe at first. I don’t think I need to explain why—you were there, I think you knew how I felt about you for over three years, it’s not like I tried to hide it.

Then you turned up and the sight of you was enough to bring back all the feelings from that dream. You must’ve wondered why my behavior with you switched so suddenly—well, a glimpse into marital bliss is sometimes enough for a girl to make some changes in her life. Yet I valiantly tried to convince myself that any flutter of my heart around you was due to this stupid dream, to a version of you my brain had conjured up because it was starved for affection, and you happened to be at the forefront of my mind, even if not for the right reasons. But it was no use. I had entertained the possibility that this future was really mine, and I couldn’t go back to seeing you as the boy who annoyed the living daylights out of me.

But Jong, if you weren’t you, I would’ve been confused for a week and then I would’ve gotten over it. I stayed confused for a while, and everything you did only served to confuse me further. I started to notice you more, to see you for who you were and not for the idea I had constructed of you in my head, I stopped taking note of only the things that reinforced this idea. And that changed everything.

Let’s get it out of the way: as much as I hate to admit it because it proves you right, I saw that you are indeed devastatingly handsome. It devastates me every time I have to look at that stupid, wonderful face of yours. And if aging is something you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ve seen you at 28, and let’s just say that your jaw somehow only gets more chiseled. I’ve realized that you don’t just participate in class to be a prick — except for when you contradict me in Literature, I know you only do that to piss me off, and yes, it works — but that you actually care about what we learn and that you don’t want the teacher to feel like they’re talking to a classroom full of students made out of bricks. I’ve also realized that you didn’t specifically pick German to be the one subject where you must beat me at all costs, you just actually really like German, even if I’m still undetermined as to why. And I can finally admit to myself—you are funny. Sometimes. There were so many times I had to stop myself from laughing at one of your idiotic puns because I could not bear to give you the satisfaction. That feeling when the worst person you know makes a funny joke, and all that. And as much as I’ve mocked you for it, I do actually like your laugh. I like that you’re only loud when you laugh, or sneeze, or get excited over something. You don’t scream, you don’t get angry, and I think that’s a lot for a boy fresh out of puberty. Or for any boy, really. 

But above all, you’re kind, Jong. I think it’s the best thing about you. I think it’s the best thing anyone can be. I see it in your patience with Heeseung when he starts one of his rants better reserved for Reddit than real life, I see it in the way you took Sunoo and Kazuha in stride, even though they’re a bit rough around the edges sometimes, I see it in the way you guide the freshmen at the start of every year, when all anyone does is complain about them, I see it in the gentleness with which you let down the girls who confess to you, even the more persistent ones. I used to think they were crazy, but I understand them more than ever now. I also used to think that all those kindnesses meant that the ones you occasionally showed me meant nothing more than that—occasional kindnesses. You were just a nice guy, occasionally so to me. But you sort of ratted yourself out when you gave me those twenty chocolates for Valentine’s.

Or, really, what made things clearer was that fight in December. I guess I was wrong—you do get angry. I remember a thought I had at the time: just when I think I know you, you do something to shake it all up. You punched two of the star soccer players of our school in the face because they said some mean, unimportant things about me. Thinking about it now, I still don’t understand it. Was it another one of your acts of kindness? 

And then I thought of those other times you helped me out. Do you remember them—the art project, the handwritten notes after my grandma passed away, you tearing Park Sunghoon a new one in the girls’ bathroom. I’m sure there are many more that I’ve dismissed simply because I did not want to see you in any other light than the one I’d decided to shine on you. 

Maybe I’m rewriting the past here, but I’ve been thinking about something lately. The theme today seems to be honesty, so I’ll lay myself bare and tell you something I haven’t told anyone yet, not even myself. The more I write, the more I become aware of its truth. I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. Maybe that’s why I kept buying erasers.

I don’t have the best memory — I suspect iron deficiency, it runs in my mom’s side of the family — but I do remember this. The first time I saw you. I haven’t noticed your face changing in real time, but I’m sure I’d laugh at how much of a baby you looked back then. Although I didn’t fare much better, I’m sure. Well, you’re the one that has all these embarrassing pictures of me, you freak, so I’m sure you could tell me. Moving on… 

I found you really cute. You were chatting to the person next to you, maybe it was Heeseung, I didn’t look properly—I only looked at you. Don’t laugh at me. It was the first day of high school, there was a nervous energy in the air, but you seemed happy to be there. You know I don’t have hordes of friends like you do, I don’t walk through life with people naturally gravitating towards me. I’m okay with it now, but it was something I struggled with back then. Kazuha, Sunoo and I have had each other since our elementary days, and I never needed more than that—but fifteen is the prime age for comparison, and as the weeks passed and we got used to being high schoolers, I listened to everyone sing your praises, I watched as you talked with all of our classmates, even our teachers, like you were old friends. But we sat next to each other in a couple of classes, and you wouldn't talk to me outside of partnered work. I, who wanted to be easily charmed by you like everyone else was, who thought maybe you’d help me come out of my shell. But it felt like sitting next to me was torture to you, like the boy whom I watched speak with ease to everyone else disappeared when I was around. And so — and I’m not proud of this — every smart remark in class, every joke that had the entire class roaring, every high five you gave out in the hallway, I started to despise them. And by association, I started to despise you. After that, it was easy to find fault in everything you did, my contempt was only enhanced by everyone’s admiration. But I’m not alone here. It went both ways, didn’t it? I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. I don’t blame us for how we acted, only for taking so long to get our heads out of our asses.

(I have to say, I also have a thing for hating people. Remind me to tell you about Na Jaemin and Shin Ryujin one of these days.)

Anyways, I think it’s because I had liked you so much at first that I could then seemingly hate you so much. But I never hated you, Jong, not really. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Can I take it all back now? 

Now that we’re entering university soon, I can’t help but look back on high school. This is what I want to know, but I’m not sure I’ll ever have the courage to ask you, because if your answer is the one I suspect, I don’t know how I’ll handle all the regret in my heart.

Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

Your letter abruptly ends here, no concluding remarks, no wishing him a fun time in Seattle and looking forward to his next letter, no sign-off. It was as if someone cut you off before you could say everything you wanted, but then why send him this seemingly unfinished letter? It is all the more bizarre since your letters are usually meticulous: you write on every other line, it looks like you take your time with every single letter, the only disturbance in your otherwise perfect handwriting is your going back-and-forth between cursive and script s’s. But this particular letter looks rushed, your lines are sloppy, some words need to be read a few times over to be understood. What kind of state had you been in, writing these words? Jay’s heart swells, thinking that you were as moved writing as he was reading. He even looks through your letter again, wishing to find a tear stain somewhere, but there are none. Maybe he’s been watching too many of these romantic period dramas you always go on about.

He has to pace his room when he’s done reading your letter, but he feels trapped inside these four walls, so he dashes outside, saying that he’s getting some air when his relatives ask him where he’s off to in such a rush, and walks around the block five times. When he’s back in his room, he rereads your letter, eyes taking in each and every word slowly and carefully, making sure he doesn’t misread anything.

You like him. You, Y/N, like him, Jongseong, it’s a fact, it’s real, you said so yourself, you went into quite some detail about it, he can’t believe it, but it’s real, it’s written right there on the page, if anyone dares tell him he’s fooling himself, he can prove them wrong, you’re the one who said it.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips for the rest of the day, he can barely eat, he’s already full of happiness. He reads your words over and over before falling asleep, committing them to memory, dreaming about them, about you.

You. How should he respond to this? Are you even expecting a response? You seem to know he’s not impartial to you, either, although that’s an understatement. 

In the following days, the thought that you hadn’t meant to send him this letter nags at him. The abrupt ending, the absence of your usual Love, Y/N. The fact that this had come out of left field—none of your previous letters had even a romantic undertone, no matter how he tried in his own to hint at his missing you, the most reference to seeing each other again you would give him was It’ll be better to show you this in real life. The act of sending letters itself didn’t feel very platonic, but you never went there, so he didn’t, either. He had secretly yearned to have you this close all these years, he would never forgive himself if he ended up chasing you away now with his over-eagerness.

You had landed on something very real in your letter: I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. He cursed his fifteen-year-old self, that idiot who couldn’t even speak to a girl no matter how much he wanted to, just because she was so pretty, he was afraid of saying something stupid and messing it up before it even had a chance to start.

On days when you’d had particularly nasty or petty arguments — it could get pretty bad, at the start, before you both started maturing and realized how ridiculous you were, especially with your classmates telling you to keep it classy — he’d stay up all night, wondering why you hated him so much in the first place, what on Earth he could’ve done to warrant such vitriol. Now, finally, he knew, and he could only resent the fact that no one had invented time machines yet, so he could nip his useless ego in the bud; so he could tell younger Jay not to take it personally, that you had your reasons for disliking him, that even if you hadn’t, the world won’t end if someone doesn’t like him like everyone usually does. 

Because, he hates to admit, that was what had done it for Jay. He couldn’t stand that someone — not just someone, but one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, a girl he’d been hyping himself up to talk to every day, but never found the courage to — didn’t immediately fall for his charms. And not just that, but even showed just how much she disliked him. You looked him up-and-down with disdain, made disgusted faces at his jokes, rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class. It made him burn with anger, but he also weirdly enjoyed it—at least, you were paying attention to him. So, he amped it up. Talked louder, laughed louder, hovered around you. He even stole your erasers, wrote the date on which he’d taken them, kept them in a box on his desk that he looked at every time he studied at home. He aimed to beat you in every class you shared, even though neither of you cared that much about grades—the annoyed look on your face when he boasted about the two points he’d gotten over you was enough satisfaction.

All in all, he behaved like a child, and you reciprocated in like.

Until you didn’t.

It was a random Tuesday when something in your attitude towards him shifted. It wasn’t a complete 180, but he noticed everything about you, so even a slight change of your tone was obvious to him. You started using your nickname for him more often than his full name—he never told you, but of course he loved that you didn’t call him Jay like everyone else, that you had your own way of addressing him. It was a sign to him that the two of you had something special, even if it was on the opposite end of the spectrum of what he wanted with you.

He again spent sleepless nights wondering what had caused this change: was it something he had done, or something within you? It was a welcome change, that much was sure, but he was initially too confused to take it in stride. He’d long made peace with the fact that he’d never have you the way he really wanted, so he was fine with whatever this was—but now, you were changing, your interactions were tinged with something like shyness, the distance between you felt greater than ever. He tried to keep up his smart-ass appearances around you, but you only indulged in your old habits once in a while, as though you had grown tired of arguing with him, even of giving him the time of day.

So he resolved himself to adapting his behavior to yours. If you stared at him intently like his face was a puzzle you were trying to solve, he let you, rested his head on his palm and smiled as he stared back at you. Finally, he had an excuse to look at you without you threatening to punch him or saying a picture would last longer. He knew they did, he’d had to resort to scrolling through Sunoo’s and Kazuha’s Instagrams to find any photos of you. Yours was private and at the time, you would’ve probably cursed him out if he’d sent a follow request. If you seemed too annoyed or upset over something, he’d leave you alone, he’d do something nice to let you know you didn’t need to have your guards up at all times around him. If you seemed to silently call for a truce of hostilities, he easily complied.

Then, after a few weeks, your petty arguments resumed, but those too were different—if before they felt filled with real disdain and irritation, they now seemed to be a comfortable habit to fall back on, almost like a fun hobby. Those, too, Jay readily welcomed.

And so things changed in a direction Jay had never thought would one day be possible. You gave him no explanations, nor did he ask for any, and soon he stopped losing sleep over the why’s and the how’s and simply let himself enjoy the fact that you now had the semblance of a friendship, that he could compliment you and pass it off as amical teasing, that he could learn things about you like what you spent your weekends doing, what your relationship with your family was like, whether you were a dog or cat person, whether you wanted to visit his farm in Stardew Valley. 

Unsurprisingly, this only enhanced his already pathetically strong feelings for you. He worried over how to make sure this wasn’t some sort of 30-day friendship trial you had wanted to test out. He reveled in the fact that his top university of choice was the one you had already been accepted to. He now knew what it felt like to have you smile at him, smile because of him, and he never wanted again to live in a world where this was not a daily occurrence. 

He now sort of has an answer—your letter doesn’t make it very clear, it makes him think again that you really had not meant to send it, but you seem to have had a dream. A dream of him, 28-year-old him, to be precise, of your life together—he’s not sure. At this point in time, he doesn’t care much, either. Whether it was a dream or a real vision of the future that you had, all that matters is that it allowed you to see him in a new light, a light which he had hoped for years would one day appear to you, and it had changed things. And now, you liked him.

You said so yourself.

He’s at a loss for words. He can’t concentrate for long enough to put all his thoughts in order, he can’t make himself calm down and write his feelings down. He has to pack to go home, once he’s home, he’ll have to pack for university. But it’s only two weeks from now to the day you meet again, and it’ll be better to say what he wants to say in person, anyway.

Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texts you.

And then those two weeks pass like two seconds and you’re there, a few meters away from him. All the speeches he’d prepared in his head, from grand declarations of love to laid-back admittances of Yeah, I like you too, you’re cool, I guess, they all vanish from his head. For fourteen days he’s been going through scenarios upon scenarios of your reunion, what you’d look like, what he’d say, how you’d react. But now that he can actually see you, now that he would just have to walk a few steps if he wanted to touch you, hug you, kiss you — hoping that was something you wanted to do — he freezes. He forgets how his body works, the part in his brain that’s meant to manage language ability fails him. HIs mom calls him over, urging him into his new dorm building, and all he can do is wave back at you like an idiot.

When finally he musters the courage to text you, what he hopes will be the day that starts your romantic relationship turns into the day Park Jongseong realizes how much of a loser he is. For the first hour, he can’t look at you, he can’t get through a sentence without stuttering out half of his words, he runs out of things to say in record time. All he can think of is how easy it’d be to grab one of your hands, hold it in his and walk around this stupid potted plant sale as if the two of you were two halves of a whole. He doesn’t even want a potted plant, his roommate already has five, he just wanted an excuse to see you. He steals glances at you when you’re looking elsewhere, and he notices everything about you tenfold now that he can, now that caring about you doesn’t need to be in vain any longer. He tells himself that he just needs to calm down a bit, even when you have the confirmation that the person you’re about to confess to already likes you, revealing your feelings to someone is always nerve-wracking, the two of you haven’t seen in each other in a while, he’ll talk to you once his heart gets out of his throat.

But you’re acting normal. Suspiciously so. You’re acting like you never told him you liked him, like nothing has changed between you. He rereads your letter the second he gets back to his dorm. He’s not crazy, it’s written right there, I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. He knows the words by heart now, but he checks them anyway. So why are you acting like you never said anything? Had you really not meant to send that letter? Did Jay actually intrude on your private thoughts by reading words that had never meant to be seen by another soul?

You continue to behave as you usually would around him, but if he couldn’t go back to vicious bickering when things changed the first time, he can’t go back to friendly bickering now that things — for him — have changed a second time. He doesn’t even want friendly to be in your shared vocabulary anymore. 

So he stops giving in. If you make fun of him, he just stands there with an unimpressed if amused look on his face. If you pedantically correct him on something, he just nods his head and accepts it. He can tell you’re bothered by it, but he needs to show you that he doesn’t want to go on being just friends with you—he wants to compliment you without having to pass it off as teasing, he wants to stare at you with hearts in his eyes without having to look away when you catch him, he wants to spend every waking second of every day with you, he wants to hold your hand, hold you. 

He could wait for things to change slowly again, but why wait when he could help things along?

--

It’s nine p.m. on a Saturday and you’re sneaking Jongseong into your dorm. Liz is away for the weekend, gone back home to celebrate her aunt’s birthday, so you have the room to yourselves. It took some convincing to get him to come — What if we get caught coming in, What if your T.A. sees us, What if I get reported to campus police — and so when your verbal reassurances failed to work, you resorted to blinking up at him through your lashes and that did the trick.

Jongseong was in many ways unlike any other man you’d ever met; in some other ways, he was the exact same.

Plastic bag of the tteokbokki you’d asked for in hand, he looks around the deserted hallways like someone might jump out of nowhere and beat him to a pulp at any given moment. At this time of the week, everyone’s out partying or holed up in their dorms, presumably either to rest or because of a lack of friends so early on in the semester. You grab his free hand and hurry him along to the elevator—once inside, it takes you a few seconds before you realize you’re still holding it, and you retract your hand quickly while he just smiles. 

You settle yourselves on the floor—comfort is not worth getting gochujang sauce on your white sheets. You sit criss-cross in front of each other, the food between the two of you, and catch up on your first week of class in-between bites of spicy, gooey rice cakes and fish cakes. You wonder, if one day you and Jongseong are no longer friends, how long you will keep associating tteokbokki with him.

When you tell him that you and Jake share a class, Introduction to Film Studies, he gives you a look. “What’s that face for?” you ask.

“Did you guys sit next to each other?”

You chuckle. “Of course. We only knew each other in that room, it would’ve been weird not to.”

He continues to stare at you. After a while, he muses, “You’re not…?”

You halt in your tracks, rice cake at the end of your plastic fork hanging in the air, halfway between the container and your mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” Still in love with him, interested in him again, you don’t know the exact details of Jongseong’s thought process, all you know is he has nothing to worry about—if it’s something he worries about.

When a smile slowly grows on his lips and he nods, saying, “Okay, good,” you let yourself think it might be.

Later, you’re ten minutes into a senseless blockbuster movie when he suddenly pauses it. It snaps you out of a trance—his hand was awfully close to yours, so is his shoulder, his thigh, his knee, everything, really, and you haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but the warmth radiating off his skin and the intensity with which you crave to feel it intentionally rather than accidentally. When he speaks, there’s something serious in his tone that makes you nervous. “Y/N,” he says as he turns to you, and now his face is awfully close, too. There’s still many centimeters separating you, but in this tiny, barely lit-up room, he feels closer than ever before. “Do you remember when I said I’d reply to your letter in real life?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah, that was ages ago.”

“Well, I thought I’d do it now.”

“Now?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Now.”

And then those safe centimeters suddenly disappear, and Jongseong’s lips are on yours. It’s a brief, chaste kiss, so quick you wonder if it even happened when he leans back again.

“I like you, too,” he says, and your heart stops.

“W-what?” is all you can say back, eyes wide like he’s just admitted to killing someone rather than reciprocating your feelings.

His confident facade quickly crumbles. “God, this was so much cooler in my head, I-I’m sorry.” He pulls something out of his sweatpants pocket, pages folded over and over into a tiny square. As he unfolds them, you recognize your paper, your handwriting—but what do your letters have anything to do with him kissing you, of all things? “I don’t think you meant to send this. But I’m glad you did.”

He hands you the pages and your eyes skim over the words, not detecting anything out of the ordinary, until—But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. You remember this line, because you had made sure to strike it and everything that came afterward out when you rewrote the letter that you would actually send Jongseong. So how was he giving you this? 

“I-How do you have this?” you ask, voice trembling. You feel as though your heart overflows with all kinds of emotions, and so your eyes follow, tears staining your lower lashes. 

But Jongseong is not one to let you hide things from him. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” he says, warm hands coming to cup your face. “Look at me.” You have no choice but to oblige—his gaze is somehow both soft and stern, a mix of concern and determination. “Did you mean what you wrote in here?” You nod. “Then everything’s okay. You don’t know how happy I was reading this.”

The tension in your body slowly starts to fade. “Really?”

“Really. I cherish every single word in there.”

“Really?” you repeat, and he chuckles.

“Really.”

Your heartbeat speeds up as you gaze into his eyes, as you let yourself bask in the affection and endearment you find there. You can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. The letter, the kiss, his confession, your inadvertent confession, it’s all a mess in your head; so sudden, but such a long time coming at the same time. You never imagined that things would change so quickly—less than a year ago, you thought Jongseong was the most irritating person on this planet. After meeting his 28-year-old self, you thought it’d take ages for the two of you to be on such good terms. But now, just a week into your first semester of university, belly full of tteokbokki and Sprite, you like each other enough not only to be in the same room without hurling insults at each other but to actually be smiling at each other, willingly at that.

Your eyes drift down to his lips, just like in the hallway all those months ago, and the words slip out before you can stop them. They’re a mere whisper—”Kiss me again.”

Jongseong doesn’t need to be told twice. Still cupping your face, he bridges the gap between the two of you again, and this time, when your lips meet, they don’t come apart so quickly. It’s your first kiss, and it’s nothing short of magical, better than any romance novel could’ve prepared you for. His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving slowly, gingerly; as if he’s scared to take any wrong step, he lets you control the pace, follows every tilt of your head this way and that. It’s a relief that he seems to know as little about this as you do—his hands haven’t moved from your face, yours are on his knees, all you can do is focus on the movement of your lips, to think of anything else at the same time would be overwhelming. 

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he suddenly says, face still so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he speaks. 

“Hm?” you hum, body reeling from the kiss.

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he repeats, grinning—he looks relieved, like he’s been waiting to say these words for a long time. “I can’t believe this is happening after all these years. Or at all, really.”

“I think I did, too.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that in your letter.”

Your eyes widen and you bury your face in your hands as Jongseong laughs. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” you mumble.

He smooths over your hair with one hand, brings your face back up with the other. “Don’t worry. I won’t ever make you regret this.”

Your brain and heart are too all over the place for you to come up with a coherent answer, so you lean in and reconnect your lips to his. It’s already becoming your favorite sensation, feeling him smile into the kiss, threading your fingers in his soft hair.

Time passes delicately like this, the two of you on your single bed, in the sheets that you bought three weeks ago. A lot of it is spent kissing and learning how to fall into each other’s rhythm, but you also spend hours talking, comparing situations and how you’d experienced them. You thought his occasional acts of kindness were done out of guilt, evidence that he did have some morals; he was trying to show he cared about you. He thought you’d despised him from the moment you saw him; you reiterate in more detail than your letter what really happened, you say you wish you knew then what you know now. 

“But I never hated you, Jong. I think I wanted to believe that I did, but I never actually did.”

“You glared at me everytime I walked past like I killed a member of your family.”

You groan, ashamed of yourself. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he says, chuckling, placing a kiss on your forehead. His arms are around you, your head rests atop his heart—you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life. “But it’s okay. We’re here now, and I don’t want us to have any regrets about high school. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m sure you did, stealing all my erasers.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. Clearly, he’s very proud of his feat. “Hey, I gave all of them back.”

“And what am I going to do with a hundred erasers, Jong?” you ask, laughing too, pecking his cheek aggressively—your way of punishing him for a grave deed.

“Keep them as a token of my love for you,” he says, and your breath falters at the mention of that word. “In fifty years, it’ll be a sign that I’ve liked you since the beginning, I just had a funny way of showing it.”

“Fifty years, huh?”

He grins. “Fifty, a hundred, whatever. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

You’re both smiling so wide, you can barely manage a kiss. He trails kisses from your lips to your ear. Holding you close, he whispers, “It’s always been you, Y/N. Always and only you.”

There may be thorns on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life, but Park Jongseong was never one of them—all along, he was a bud waiting to bloom.

--

The more time passes, the more you wonder whether that night you had seen in your vision will ever come. There’s been evenings similar to it—crashing the minute you came home from a long day on set, telling yourself you’d take a fifteen-minute power nap only to wake up three hours later and coming downstairs to find your husband cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, taking care of your son or simply watching TV, but waiting for you, always waiting for you. He seems as happy now watching you come down the stairs as he was then finding your face among all the students flocking out of lecture halls. 

The details are blurry now, but many small things seem to be different from what you’d seen. He still tries to recreate your favorite meal, but it’s not pasta all'arrabbiata, it’s laksa, because your first date as an official couple was to a Malaysian restaurant, not an Italian one. He’s still the best father you know, but you have one son, not twin girls—although that offer to “give him a younger sibling to play with” is always on the table. Even the house you live in is different from the one in your dream, which has now become nothing more than a funny anecdote you share with people when they ask you the story of how you and Jongseong met.

You think of Sunoo’s words from all those years ago: Sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. Had 18-year-old you been in such denial over her feelings for Jongseong that she’d had to convince herself a magical well had bestowed a crazy dream upon her to admit that, yes, there was something there, something other than childish hatred?

It doesn’t matter anymore. Months pass without you thinking about that well, anyway. 

Tonight, you come home late from work after having had to do last-minute changes to the script for your current project, a movie that starts shooting in a few days. Jongseong texted you that he was going to bed an hour or so again, so you’re greeted by a plate of japchae covered in film paper. The post-it note stuck to it reads, I’m afraid of the repercussions of too much curry consumption on our son, so no laksa tonight my love. Hope you like it. Come to bed quick. You were starving a second ago, but you decide food can wait—other things can’t.

You tiptoe up the stairs and into your son’s room, breathing in the scent of his hair and placing a kiss there. His hair is still worryingly sparse, but if he’s anything like his dad, it’ll come in a bit later than the other kids. You always thought babies with a full head of hair were freaky, anyway. He doesn’t budge a bit, sleeping like a log—his dad is another story, shuffling in bed the moment you step into your shared bedroom. He opens his arms wide, a silent invitation.

“You’re home,” he says as you attach yourself to his body, your leg hiked up over his, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your thumb caressing the start of stubble on his cheeks.

You smile. “I am.”

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz @enhastolemyheart (ask to be removed/added!)

[svmjaeyvn]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS — 박종성

MINORS DNI ! IM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME

You’d never consider yourself a smoker, hell, last year you couldn’t even bare the smell of weed that lingered on your cousins’ clothes after a night out. But one night of feeling adventurous turned into many, and now you found yourself being your plug's favorite sweetheart. You didn’t even care that Park Jongseong was a notorious asshole to everyone, considering it was everyone but you. Besides, there’s no way you’d pass up having your plug be your friends with benefits, especially when it came with way more than you’d imagined.

pairing — stoner+plug!jay x semi-stonerfem!reader, college/ya au

word count -- 22k (oops?)

featuring — stoner!enha hyung line, enha!maknae line as your nosey neighbors and juniors, manon and lara from katseye as your besties (LUV), and (1) keeho mention for shits and giggles

content/warnings — weed smoking (duh), partying, alcohol, profanity, loads of sexual innuendos + casual convos about sex cause they’re adults!, heeseung as your annoying ass older cousin, jay being the plug-turned-close friend bc of heeseung, lots of sex or sexual tension the entire time, mentions of jay being an asshole but you never see it bc you’re a princess, unprotected sex (oops), public-ish sex?? (at a party, in the car, fucking while on the phone, etc.), throat fucking (ish), sloppy head (m&f receiving), lots of pet names (princess, baby, love, pretty girl, etc.), reader referred to as slut one time (endearing lol), creampies, fucking under the influence, possessive/jealous jay (A LOT cause i love a possessive fictional man), messy situationship, sort of toxic dynamic at first, (1) scene of vaping/smoking with riki, reader has her faults let her live!, one almost fight scene between guys, jay fell first and harder (hell yeah), reader is a BADDIE (ass fat, big tits and nipple piercings yuh), reader is described as conventionally attractive and small

note — don’t like it? don’t read it! full disclosure, my dabble into smoking is, like, minimal so i’m mostly talking out of my ass but the concept of jay lighting a blunt in my mouth is teeew good to NOT write about. this was originally made to be a short drabble but i dont know how to stfu so here we are (this took me 2 months to write, it was supposed to come out on 4/20 lol). tbh the smoking plotline got lost in the midst of minimal angst and fluff but i promise desperate cutesy jay is worth everything. please enjoy <3

“You’re sick,” Riki grimaces, eyes following you as you pause in front of your full length mirror. “Sick in the head,” He continues, you leaning closer to ensure your lipgloss wasn’t smudged in the slightest and hair flowed the way you wanted.

“You realize that Jay’s literally seen you at your worst, right? Like before you decided he was hot and shit you looked like a troll here at the house,” Heeseung adds with a snort, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You meet his gaze through the mirror, a sarcastic smile sent his way as you flip him off through the reflection.

“We’re going to a party,” You remind, deflecting how much effort you put into the look rather than the majority of it being to impress the practically household name that belongs to Park Jongseong. “Besides, he likes this skirt and gives me stuff for free so this would actually benefit you too, idiot,”

Heeseung pauses, thinking over the fact that even with the long-term friend discount, Jay practically gave you whatever you asked for these days with little to no charge. Biting his tongue for once, he nods, but that doesn’t erase the obvious annoyance and discomfort he felt thinking about you and one of his best friends being together.

Riki shakes his head, laid on your bed petting the short-haired cat that was curled into his side. Said boy was a part of the trio that lived next door to your apartment, Nishiurma Riki, the one you and Heeseung called over to feed your shared pets and watch them for a while on the nights you planned on being out for long.

He had no problem with it, especially with the easy money he gained and the fact that the two of you always left enough for him to order in on top of that. Thus he was familiar with the sight, one he’s been having to see unfold more and more recently.

What he did have a problem with was you getting involved with Park Jongseong in the first place. You were smart, pretty, and admittedly a crazy bitch, but you were one of the first people who he actually felt at home with aside from Jungwon and Sunoo.

And sure, Jay wasn’t that bad. Hell, he allows Riki to speak Japanese openly and keeps up, though sometimes slow and tripping over his words, but still allows him to feel comfortable speaking his native language. But Jay also sold weed as a pastime and had a track record of being the biggest asshole when something pissed him off. Not that he’s actually seen it quite yet but still, you deserved the best.

Not that Riki would actually ever voice his opinion on it, after all it was your life and you were an adult. Besides, Sunoo and Jungwon made their comments enough to tell you their not quite distaste but not quite liking of him even though your circles rarely overlapped on occasion.

“Are you done? Jake says they’re pulling up,” Heeseung pulls your attention away from the reflection where you had just finished clasping your last layered necklace. You gave yourself a once over, a smile of satisfaction quirking at the corners of your lips as you turned around.

“Let’s go,” You hum, slinging the thin jacket over your shoulders for minimal protection from the cold outside air. You spared a look to Riki before you exited the room, shooting the younger boy a wink as your voice lingered through the walls bidding your goodbyes to him and the cats for the night.

You could hear Heeseung’s footsteps follow, you waiting at the front door for him to open it per routine and you nearly jumping coming inches apart from a rather giddy looking Jake. There was a slight gleam to his look, notably already started on his pregame and a few strands fallen from his almost perfectly styled hair from his habit of running his hands through it.

Jake practically bounced on the heels of his feet, a sloppy smile playing at his lips as he pulled a familiar thin white tube from his pocket. “Hoon’s not drinking but he’s down for a smoke, you guys want in on this one?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“There she is!” Lara giggles, an arm thrown around your shoulders pulling you in for a hug with her words somehow louder than the blaring music that came from the speakers in the house. “Bitch, where have you been? It’s soo late,”

“It’s barely 9,” You snort, stumbling a bit to uphold her weight seeing how rather fucked up she already seemed so early on. “We just got here, you been drinking for a minute?”

“Manon and I might’ve gone a little crazy while pregaming,” Lara admits, the cup in her hand sloshing around with unfamiliar contents of alcohol. “Midterms have been a bitch, I needed this. But trust, I’m good—nowhere near throwing up yet,”

“Guess we gotta catch up,” Heeseung’s voice interrupts from behind. You noted the way Lara suddenly stood up straighter, and the stupid smile Heeseung was notorious for causing you to roll your eyes with a grimace.

“Don’t touch her,” You warn, waggling a finger at Heeseung while he lets out a laugh. You turn to Lara next as she pouts, “He’s gross, you’re drunk, trust me you’ll regret it,”

You excused yourself to make your way to the kitchen, the layout of the frat house familiar considering you’ve been here more times than you could count for parties. You bid friendly smiles and short greetings to the familiar faces, settling into the line of alcohol to choose from in the coolers filled with ice and a huge jug of jungle juice you wouldn’t dare think of trying.

You peeked into the fridge, smiling seeing the bottles of pineapple juice you begged Keeho to buy earlier in the day when he asked what drinks the frat should provide for the night. Perks of being friends with a member, you got to make yourself sweet drinks that tasted good and fucked you up at the same time.

Just as you finished pouring a generous amount of tequila into a new solo cup, you felt a hand find its place on your hip and the familiar smell of cologne that filled your senses that you’ve grown rather fond of.

“Hi princess,” Jay’s voice fluttered against the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath causing a chill to run up your spine and stupidly annoying smile to appear at your lips.

“Hi Jay,” You repeat, not bothering to spare him a look quite yet. You topped off your drink with juice to the brim, turning in your spot in his arms that kept you encased against the counter. You brought the drink to your lips, taking a sip and maintaining eye contact with him as you did.

“You look pretty,” He compliments, eyes flickering down to your lips as you hum. You held the cup up, Jay taking a small sip and chuckling at the excessive amount of liquor you had poured into the half-assed cocktail.

“Too strong?”

He shook his head, one hand squeezing your hip and the other tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as it fell out of place. “You know I don’t drink much,”

You hummed again, taking a longer drink this time and feeling the familiar burn down your throat. “You been waiting for me?” You tease, knowing well enough Jay was at practically every party on campus due to it being his best selling grounds.

But he nods, a laugh leaving his lips and you smile at the sight. A few months ago it would’ve been a rare occasion to even see him crack a smile at any of the stupid jokes the guys made, it felt good knowing how easy it was for you to see an even prettier sight of him now.

“Of course I have,” His voice is warm, the words teasing but there was a certain glint in his eyes as he scanned over every little detail of your face, almost as if he were memorizing a picture in his mind. “You get all dressed up f’me?”

“Of course I did,” You repeat, half hearted but his lips quirked at your words anyway. Just as he was about to speak again, a loud voice broke the bubble the two of you were in, reminding you of the loud music and numerous bodies that flowed about.

“Hey! I've been looking for you. You still got anything on you man?” An obnoxiously unfamiliar guy barreling toward you caused you to grimace. Obviously intoxicated, and probably far too drunk to get cross-faded at this point, you shrink away from Jays’ hold to allow him to do his business.

“Nah man,” Jay’s words were short, to the point and he barely spared the guy a look as his hand on your hip squeezed gently—a silent gesture for you to stay put.

“What? C’mon man it’s barely gonna be 10? No way you’re out—” The guy persisted, slurring his words and swaying in his spot. One of his hands came up to grab onto Jay’s shoulder while the other nearly dropped his opened seltzer right where you stood.

You stiffened, ready to push the clearly drunk loser away from you if he fell but you didn’t have to. Jay used one arm, shoving the guy back a few stumbled steps with a bored expression while the other hand didn’t let go of the protective hold he had on you.

“I’m out,” Is all he says. His jaw clenched, emphasizing his already prominent jawline and eyes sharp, practically daring the guy to push for more.

Even drunk, he seemed to take the hint. A short mumble of something along the lines of muttered insults were heard before you and Jay were left alone once more. And you snickered, giggling at the sight of the stumbling drunkard who made his way back to his group of friends who were expectantly waiting on his return.

“You alright?” Jay asked after a beat of silence, eyes running over your figure while you nod. He visibly relaxed, a smile quirking at his lips as he leaned in slightly. “You smoking tonight, pretty girl?”

You laughed, “Thought you were out?”

“I always have something for you,” He smirks, hand lacing with your own and beginning to pull you toward the back door that leads outside.

“For how much?”

Jay glances over his shoulder to send you a pointed look. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” He scoffs, nearly offended considering he hasn’t charged you in months. The only time you gave him money recently was for Heeseung who paid you for it in the first place.

“You’re letting me rob you at this point Jjong,” You snicker, goosebumps forming at the skin exposed on your legs from the chilly outside air that your mini skirt did nothing to combat against.

He doesn’t say anything, though you noticed the small quirk of his lips that he attempted to bite back. Jay pulls the two of you to the far end of the yard, numerous chairs spread around the pool unoccupied as it was growing colder with the seasons changing leaving the outside of the house with only a few lingering groups who talked amongst themselves.

He settles into a seat, dragging you down onto his lap rather than the empty chair directly beside his own. You raise a brow, refraining from a remark at how he couldn’t get enough of you considering you’ve grown to love how clingy he got at times. One of your arms draped over his shoulder, your legs perched across his own and he held you steady allowing for your weight to be leant against him with an arm encasing you to his chest.

Jay pulled a familiar baggie from his pocket, there only being two near perfectly rolled joints. He plucked one out, hand dipping into his pocket once more to pull out his lighter and tucking the remaining one away for now.

Wordlessly, he holds it up to your lips with one hand causing you to pout. “I have gloss on,” You remind, moving your head away while he sends you a bored look.

“When have I cared about shit like that?” He snickers. “It’s just me and you princess, not like you’re sharing with a group,” Jay reminds, eyes holding your own as you scrunch your nose. 

Jay lets out a breathy laugh before pulling you closer as he grips your chin, guiding your lips to his own. Your lips meet, a small gasp leaving your mouth out of surprise at the sudden contact and you could feel the cocky smile that formed on his features. Your hand found his hair, playing with the longer strands while rolling your hips in the slightest manner.

He pulled back, holding you in place with a pointed look as if telling you to behave. You smiled, thumb dragging over his bottom lip to remove the shine that transferred over from yours.

“Making me ruin your pretty make up,” Jay mumbles with a playful tsk, holding the joint up once more while you hum. Your lips wrapped around the tip, just enough to hold it while his other hand uses the lighter to spark it. He held the flame just enough for the paper to ignite, you sucking in a long hit to ensure the spliff would stay burning.

You held it for a moment, inhaling the smoke before turning your head the other way to not blow it directly in Jays’ face. You hear his laugh, knowing that you didn’t tend to like starting the first hit and you faced him with a roll of your eyes.

You watched him take a long drag, one that never failed to make you wonder how he didn’t end up coughing more but then again, he’s been smoking a lot longer than you. Jay could feel your eyes lingering on him longer than they should’ve, his second inhale shorter but he blew the smoke in your face this time after meeting your gaze.

You shook your head, hand gently pushing his face away from your own as his laugh filtered through the air between you. He holds out the joint for you to grab, careful to not drop it considering your nails were longer than usual thanks to your fresh set and Manon encouraging you to do long rather than medium this time.

You took a comfortable puff while glancing around the backyard. You looked toward the house, half a mind to remember to check on Jake soon considering he was probably the most fucked up by now.

“You come with the guys, right?”

You nod. “Sunghoon’s the DD for the night,” Cheeks blowing out a notable breath due to the cold air as you tilted your head back with a sigh. “Jake was already on a good one before we left, had two joints in the car… which I assume he got from you?”

Jay lets out a breathy laugh, the sound causing your gaze to fall back on him feeling the small shrug he did. “Gave him a couple extra the other day but I guess he held onto them for tonight,”

A beat of silence passed over you two, your eyes scanning his side profile as Jay draws small circles with his hand on your hip. You pass back the slow burning joint to him, taking a sip of the cold drink in your hand which caused you to shiver.

“Why’d you start selling?” Your question lingered in the air between you. You’ve never asked, because quite frankly, you never cared. Hell, it wasn’t like Jay was the deep type that went through the why’s and what if’s in his life much anyway.

Plus, everyone in his circle knew him, so why talk about the shitty situations he’s put himself through more than needed? It wasn’t healthy, obviously, but he was also a guy who had friends that didn’t get emotional with each other unless drunk around a fire at 3am.

But you were you, Heeseung’s loud mouth younger cousin that infiltrated the group's lives two years ago when you came to live with him for uni. He’d seen you at your worst already, be it first thing in the morning or late at night off a drunken escapade having to be carried home and slung over the toilet for hours on end.

He knew you, and you knew him, but neither of you actually cared aside from the superficial bond between you two that Heeseung bridged.

Well until a few months ago when whatever this was started to occur. It took one night, an utterly helpless you who flunked your econ class that led to you and Jay in a room together at a party much like this. Your first smoke, one that you begged for and he only gave in after you shoved a crumpled wad of cash — that he snuck back into your purse that night, into his hands because he felt bad.

Because you were you, and he’d never seen you look so miserable before. It was just supposed to be an excuse for him to let you rant, let you indulge in whatever turmoil shit you had going on that you refused to tell Heeseung out of your own ego.

But it wasn’t that simple, not after you spilled every last worry to him as if he were a paid therapist and he realized that you were a dramatic overthinking kid hours away from anyone and everything familiar. So maybe it was pity, or maybe it was the sprout of attraction that misguided his judgment, but one night of self indulgence led to many.

And at some point instead of you sitting across the room from him, you were perched beside him. Ghost smiles and gentle touches turned to sharing seats with one another til at some point, whenever you were together Jay couldn’t keep his hands off you.

“Money,” He says simply, the words clipped in an obvious manner to not ask more. You purse your lips, a slight sting felt from his blunt way to keep you at a distance. You felt like he should’ve given you a little credit, hell he’s been in you a handful of times now, having a decent conversation aside from weed, sex, and alcohol seemed reasonable to you.

When you didn’t respond, Jay took note of the silence that followed. The way you didn’t bother to spare him a look, seemingly finding the open night sky more fascinating than him and taking long sips of your drink that continued to melt as time passed.

Jay watched you, the slight annoyance overshadowed once he noticed your pout. He shook his head, adjusting in his seat with you still perched on his lap as his arms snaked around your waist. “C’mon pretty, don’t get like that. We don’t need to talk about useless shit,”

He mumbled the words against your skin, placing a lazy kiss to your shoulder while you shifted against him. Jay chuckles, a hand softly but firmly moving your chin to look at him. “Can’t have my girl mad at me,”

“I’m not your girl, Jay,” You mutter, attempting to pull your head away but he tsks, fingers gripping the sides of your face and holding you steady. His eyes held a certain look, cocky and taunting as he leaned closer.

“Wanna bet?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jay hummed, laughter bubbling through his words as he forced your head up with the grip he held on the base of your hair. His eyes met yours through the mirror, teeth grazing up your neck, making sure to leave a mark while his hips pressed your own into the bathroom counter.

Your skirt was hiked up, lace panties pushed to the side and your tits bounced with each thrust from where Jay had yanked your shirt down. The metal of your piercings glistened every bounce, your nipples fully erect and sensitive every time Jay’s fingers rolled the buds. Your mascara smudged, hair in disarray from Jay’s yanking, forcing you to watch the way he fucked himself into you. Muffled music blared throughout the house, the occasional knock on the door letting you know you had an audience but Jay didn’t care, not after you practically begged him to show you who you belonged to earlier like it was a cute joke.

Your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth, muffling your moans out of your own ego but also so the line waiting outside didn’t have more of a clue of the fact that you were getting put in your place—although Jay had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to be out until he was done after the third knock.

“You should know better by now,” Jay continued, the heat of his breath lingered against your skin. His palm placed a harsh smack to your ass that bounced against him, the hit causing you to hiss while he smirked. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your hips surely to leave a mark, Jay let out a gruntled groan as your walls clenched around him, your body showing how much you liked it even if you were giving him the silence treatment to prove a point. “Pussy knows who you belong to already, you’re made f’me and she knows it,”

“Fuck off,” You manage out, eyes screwed shut feeling the way Jay’s dick kissed your cervix with every deep thrust. There was only one other time the sex you had was like this, rough and possessive, Jay fed up with your drunken behavior that led to you flirting with another guy at a party after a small fight between you two.

He was definitely rougher that time, dragging you into his car and fucking you dumb after making you repeat like a mantra how your body was only for him to touch as long as he was around. You loved it, your body reacting to his touch proving it without you even saying a word.

“So mean baby,” Jay tsks, words mumbled with faux offense. He manages to press himself deeper into you, the curve of his dick hitting just right as a moan left your lips before you could stop it. “Fuuck, there you go, ‘was missing those pretty little noises you make,”

You let out muffled whimpers, head falling forward and desperately trying to keep quiet but you couldn’t. Not with the feeling of Jay hitting you just right every time, not when he reached around to rub his thumb against your clit, your mind going fuzzy and legs growing wobbly to where he had to wrap his arm around your waist and keep you steady.

“So tight baby,” Jay breathes out, a sloppy open mouthed kiss pressed to your shoulder. “You’re takin’ me so well,”

The lewd sounds of your skin slapping echoed throughout the acoustics of the bathroom. If you weren’t slightly intoxicated you might’ve had half a mind to tell Jay to stop being so loud, you probably would’ve convinced him to find a room in the first place. But you didn’t, and god did you not care about anyone else right now.

Your head falls to his shoulder, moans now overtaking the sounds of your bodies and Jay fingers continue the assault on your clit with his growing sloppy pace. He connects your lips, half a mind to shut you up but couldn’t deny the ego boost of his name falling from your mouth.

The tight pull in your stomach tensed, Jay’s grip on your hip leaving fingerprints in your skin. “Fuck, Jay, please,” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush between the sloppy kisses. He hummed against your lips, his smile felt as he picked up the pace. His other hand trailed up your waist, pinching at your erect nipple and rolling the piercing, the sight far too pretty and he was grateful for the past you who decided to pierce them in the first place.

You clenched around him, your pussy sucking him in as you rode out your own orgasm, eyes screwed shut and mind fuzzy. His thumb rubbed your clit at a consistent pace until it became overstimulating, you pushed him away lazily and he bent you over the sink to finish.

“Such a good girl my love,” Jay praised, voice low and strained as his head dips back. “So good,” He muttered, continuing with a few more deep thrusts before he pulled out just enough so his tip spilled his warm cum onto your ass, not quite inside but all over your hole that clenched at the loss of him. You could see him smile through the mirror, heavy breaths of satisfaction and a slight gleam of sweat covered his honey skin in the light.

His eyes met yours, the smirk on his lips only growing once he pushed his tip back inside momentarily, you letting out a loud moan feeling the remnant of his cum pushed deep inside you to drip out later.

He pulled you up, dick still buried inside and you could feel the last few twitches of his cock against your walls. The warmth was overwhelming, he hadn’t came inside you directly, but made sure to push enough in after the initial few shots to prove a point. You were on the pill, and Jay would most likely get you one tomorrow either way, but he was a cocky bastard who simply wanted his cum to drain out of you for the rest of the night either way.

“You okay?” He asks softly, a small but innocent kiss placed on your shoulder. His hands softly grazed over your body, adjusting your shirt and brushing the astray strands of hair from your face that stuck to your sweat. You nodded, far too fucked out to say anything and still in a daze from your own orgasm. “What, you don’t got any other smart ass remarks now?”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze properly. “Shut up,” You mumble, lip tucked between your teeth as you playfully tsked. Jay laughed, placing a chaste kiss to your lips in the process. “Now clean me up, we have a walk of shame to do and a line of pissed off drunk people to see,”

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“I peed in a bush, you sick fucks,” Manon huffs, eyes narrowed at you from across the table where she was slumped over her books. You rolled your eyes, biting back your smile of amusement as memories of last Friday flicker in your mind.

Lara giggles to your left, nudging her shoulder into your own with a suggestive smile. “I support women’s wrongs, good for you for getting dick by one of the hottest guys on campus,”

“Ah yes, because we want you to be a druglord's wife once we graduate,” Manon snorts, the statement one that caused you to burst out in a fit of laughter, baffled by the sudden upgrade of distaste to this.

“You’re so dramatic,” Lara rolls her eyes.

“He sells weed, it’s not like he’s a kingpin, Mon,” You snicker. “Seung told me he’s gonna stop soon too I guess, ‘cause ya know, we’re gonna graduate at some point. I know you guys think he’s just a pothead but he is prelaw and on track with summa cum laude,”

“Every time you tell us that, I think it’s ironic considering he’s selling weed, illegally, to minors a lot of the time ,” Manon emphasized, leaning back in her seat as she played with the ends of her braids absentmindedly.

You purse your lips with a small shrug. You weren’t together, technically, and you weren’t required to defend him to quite literally everyone around you because of his reputation, but it was growing a little old hearing how much your friends disliked him. Sure it wasn’t a great relationship, but you weren’t sitting there begging him to be your boyfriend in some one-sided situationship.

Jay treated you well, better than he owed you considering you were fuck buddies more than anything. At no point did you expect anything, not more than you were willing to give, and to be quite honest, you didn’t want a relationship. You had no actual responsibility, no mental need to be mindful of another person when you barely kept yourself afloat these days.

You didn’t have to see him everyday, you didn’t have to remember to text back, and you sure as hell didn’t have to care about his feelings when you weren’t together. But it was your choice to keep him around, and honestly, you loved the way he acted to your beck and call when needed.

Lara, seemingly catching the subtle shift in your mood, cleared her throat. She nudged her shoulder into your own, a soft smile of quiet reassurance before she changed the topic entirely. You nodded, engaging in small conversation but your mind was elsewhere as you scribbled random drawings in the corner of your notebook.

Your phone buzzed from the tabletop, you picking it up while the two continued to talk unaware.

jjong<3: busy?

y/nnie: why you missing me already?

jjong<3: always

jjong<3: let me take you out for the night

y/nnie: hm fine. at the study hall, come get me🥱

You click off your phone, beginning to gather your things into your bag in order. Manon and Lara watched you, both silently sending each other looks but knowingly choosing to not say a word. And like clockwork, your head picked up to see Jay’s familiar figure stepping in through the entry doors.

His hair was messily slicked back, once done perfectly but had a hand run through it throughout the day. You rose a brow at the business casual look he was sporting–dark slacks, a black button up, and dress shoes with his bag slung over his shoulder, presumably just finished up with whatever assignment his class required for him to dress up for.

You spared a look to your friends who had followed your line of view. You smiled innocently, bidding them a halfhearted goodbye. “Sorry girls, I’m off to self-sabotage and let my walking red flag take me out for the night,” You wink, partially joking but the slight annoyance from the conversation seeped into your words.

You didn’t stay for their responses and sure remarks of you ditching the unprompted study session you were in the midst of. Instead you waltzed your way to Jay who met you halfway, a small smirk quirked at the corner of his lips as he gave you a once over, his eyes slow and deliberate.

“I’m gonna stop you right now,” You cleared your throat as soon as you were in talking range, a hand held up to create distance between you. “You’re not getting any sex from me tonight, Park Jongseong. Take it or leave it,” You state bluntly, you regretting it as soon as the words left your lips though once you got an up close view of him, the thought of unbuckling his belt and seeing his come undone in his formal attire flickering through your mind.

Jay raises a brow, head tilting in the smallest of ways as his eyes narrow at you. He takes a second, gaze searching your own for a moment. “I’m not that bad for you to assume that’s all I want you for, am I?” He chuckles, words meant to be joking but you felt the slight offense hidden in his expression.

You shrug, breaking his gaze suddenly embarrassed for insinuating. Sure your relationship was mainly sex, but Jay wasn’t that shallow to leave you just because you didn’t want to do anything, he was your sort of friend-by-association before anything.

Maybe everyone being in your ear emphasizing how you were basically a free use doll was starting to get to you.

He stays silent for a moment, you still avoiding his gaze and shifting your arms across your front uncomfortably. Jay sighs, rolling his eyes half-heartedly as he closes the space between you. “Stop overthinking whatever shits making your pretty little head spin,” He mutters, dragging the strap of your bag off your shoulder and instead slinging it over his own to carry. Jay then grabs hold of your hand, gently lacing your fingers and beginning to guide you out of the student center.

“For the record, I never expect anything from you whenever we see each other,”

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Your shoulder brushed against his arm every so often, sandwiched between Jay’s broad shoulders and the wall as he insisted on sitting on the same side of the tiny booth you sat at. Tucked away in the corner of the small Thai place you found a few weeks ago, the low lighting created a cozy ambiance with delicious aroma flowing throughout the fairly busy restaurant.

Jay was leant against the tabletop, body angled toward you and arm draped across the seats, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair absentmindedly. The orders of spring rolls, fried rice, and pad sew half eaten, both of you fed and engaging in small conversation.

After a lingering beat of silence, Jay lets out a long, frustrated, groan. His head tilts back, adam’s apple bobbing and jawline prominent. “Alright, what’s up doll?”

“Huh?”

Jay gave you a bored look, eyes trailing over you, studying your features as if he knew everything about you. “You’re thinking about something,” He mutters, his thumb pressing gently to your forehead to release the tension of your pinched brows you were unaware of. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You shrug, turning your attention toward your plate and pushing around the few bites you hadn’t finished from before. The fork softly scraped against the porcelain, the sound causing you to wince. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re bad for me, and I’m getting tired of hearing it,”

Jay doesn’t respond at first, instead he scoffs, the light laugh that followed didn’t feel as nonchalant as it was supposed to. His eyes watch you, your gaze focused through the shop windows avoiding him. Your hands toyed with each other, shoulders dropping once you let out a long breath.

“It’s annoying, you know? We’re not even together, so I don’t get why it matters. And you’re not as bad as everyone makes you out to be,” You ramble, brows pinched once more growing seemingly annoyed as you speak. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a relationship with you. I’m perfectly fine with what we have going on but everyone’s in my ear about us being together or not and it’s just like, a girl can want a casual fuck too, you know? Besides, you may be an asshole sometimes but the frat guys are ten times worse with no provoking. So I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re so bad for me like I’m a kid who doesn’t know any better. I’m an adult, actively making decisions, one including the friends with benefits thing we have so why is it so bad?”

Jay watched you for a moment, the way your shoulders tensed, the way you began to wave your hands around as you spoke, your lips pulled into a pout unknowingly. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips, your words registered but held little importance to him where he stood in the predicament you found yourself in.

“Even if I were the perfect guy for you, everyone would have something to say eventually,” He shrugs, words stated so simply while you broke your simmering anger to give him a confused look. “You’re choosing this, I’m choosing you. Who cares what everyone thinks?”

You falter, shoulders shrinking not knowing what to say. Your lips part, a loss for words as you blink. “I don’t,” You stutter. “Not necessarily, it’s just, don’t you get tired of everyone asking if we’re dating?”

Jay shrugs, leaning back against the booth as he takes a sip of his drink. “Everyone knows you’re mine,”

You roll your eyes. “That, that’s the point,” You tsk. “We’re not together, Jongseong, you can’t keep feeding that theory by saying shit like that. We’re fucking exclusively out of respect for one another, not because we’re boyfriend-girlfriend. Your ‘claim’ on me can only go so far,” You ramble, arms folding across your front. “You can’t call me your girl with your whole chest like that. Just because we know each other physically and have a surface level relationship, doesn’t mean we’re anywhere near this imaginary couple everyone thinks we are,”

“We’re not together because you don’t want us to be,” Jay says through a clipped tone, words stated with an obvious edge while you gave him an incredulous look. He met your gaze, his steady and certain, a slight annoyance in his expression while your mind ran over analyzing in denial of the confession.

“Wh-what’re you talking about?”

“I’ve never said I was opposed to an actual relationship with you, our dynamic is the way that it is on your own accord,” He states bluntly. “We’ve been at this for months, if you were just a fuck and dump I would’ve been gone a long time ago, you know that,” Jay emphasized, still refusing to shift his piercing gaze from your own.

You had nothing to say. You couldn’t at least, not once did you overthink your relationship, not once did you allow any sort of delusional feelings fester out of your own pride. The thought of being a cliche girl left heartbroken far too embarrassing, not to mention you truly knew nothing about each other when it came down to it.

“We don’t even know each other,” You breathe out, lamely grasping at straws to justify your oblivious ignorance to his confession and presumed feelings all this time.

Jay pursed his lips, nodding along after a moment. He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter and gathering the leftover food items the waiter had dropped off before your sort-of fight began. There was a shift, an obvious wall wedged between you even if Jay hadn’t said so, moving around you with ease.

“You let me know what you want then Y/N,” Jay finally says. “Relationship or not, being with me means people will talk. You decide where this goes,”

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It’s been a week. The longest you’ve gone without contact with Jay since you moved in with Heeseung a few years ago considering every few days the apartment would be flooded with the group hanging out in your living room and eating all the snacks in sight after getting the munchies.

You felt like an idiot, a confused  jumble of a mess because you thought that you had full control over your life once upon a time. Hell, the whole reason you didn’t want a proper relationship was for this–the fighting, stressing, and miscommunications turned into upset feelings and petty frustration. He hadn’t reached out, no random texts every day, no call in the middle of the night to talk, no meet-up slash date.

You didn’t either, taking time and over analyzing every moment you’ve spent together. You were an idiot for how much denial you were in prior, Jay was certainly your boyfriend without the label, at your beck and call and nearly always the one to put himself in your realm to ensure you felt taken care of but you never did the same. You were deluded by the fact that you believed he never, in a million years, wanted a relationship with you, Park Jongseong didn’t do relationships—at least according to every person you asked on campus, so what would’ve made you think differently? 

You were embarrassed, too awkward to reach out now. Everyday that passed you felt worse, deeming it as too much time to ask for forgiveness when you didn’t even have a proper handle on your own feelings. You still didn’t know if you were ready for a relationship, not because you were opposed to one with Jay, but because you lacked emotional maturity that you were willing to admit. Your last proper boyfriend was from high school, and that barely even counted.

Your door was pushed open without warning, Heeseung leaning against the frame holding one of your cats—Koi, in his arms. “You kiss and make up yet?” He asks with a raised brow. You pursed your lips, shaking your head and turning back to the mess you had on your desk from the attempts of studying you’ve been doing the last few days as a distraction. Heeseung let out a long groan. “Stop being stubborn, he’s been in a bad mood all week and it’s starting to get old with both of you moping over whatever dumb shit you’re fighting about,”

“He wants a relationship,” You mutter, words quiet but enough for Heeseung to catch across the room. You didn’t bother to look back, a small weight lifting off your shoulders as you hadn’t uttered a word to anyone about the shift in your relationship no matter how many times they asked.

“Jay told you he wants a relationship?” Heeseung repeats, voice significantly closer as you hear the weight of your bed shift behind you. You nod once. There was a beat of silence, and then a breathless laugh that escaped from Heeseung’s lips as he dragged your chair around to face him. “Park Jongseong told you he wants to be official and what? You don’t? I don’t understand, you two were basically there after the first month of whatever the fuck you had going on,”

“I didn’t think we were like that!” You defend lamely, pulling at the sleeves of your hoodie and shrinking in your seat. “As far as I knew, we were supposed to be friends with benefits, nothing more, nothing less,”

Heeseung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your excuses. “The only reason I didn’t flip out after finding out the two of you were hooking up was because I knew him,” He emphasized. “Jay wouldn’t have been around you everyday just because you gave him pussy. He’s an asshole, he wouldn’t care about you if you didn’t mean something to him Y/N,”

“How was I supposed to know that?” You shoot back, growing frustrated hearing the words you’ve thought in your head spoken out loud. “He doesn’t talk to me! I barely know him, he always pushed me away when I tried to get closer to him more than sex and surface level conversations. I don’t know him, so why is it my fault for thinking this meant nothing?”

Heeseung paused, his eyes softening slightly as he watched you ball yourself up in the chair. He reminded himself you didn’t know the guys like he did, you hadn’t known Jay long, nor did you meet him at the right time of who he truly is. “He’s been through a lot,” Heeseung starts carefully, words soft and watching the way you rolled your eyes. “It’s stupid, but he’s a guy. He’s not gonna tell you everything out of his own ego, and probably because he doesn’t want to bother you with worrying about him,”

“It’s been months Hee,” You sigh, head buried in your arms. “I deserve a little more credit, don’t I? He should trust me to talk to me, especially if he’s been waiting all this time for us to be together,”

“I’m not saying he’s justified for keeping himself blocked off when you’ve been there for him,” Heeseung agrees. “But, as smart as Jay is, he’s not the type to talk about his feelings after he deems them over with. I guess that’s why he’s gonna be a good lawyer, he compartmentalizes, as soon as it’s done, he pushes it away and forces himself to move on even if it’s not healthy and seeps through the cracks sometimes,”

You take a second, lifting your head with a pout. “I shouldn’t have to deal with an emotionally fucked up guy and help him help me understand him,”

Heeseung snorts, shrugging his shoulders. “True, but you’re not exactly sunshine and rainbows to be with either kid,”

You narrow your eyes. “What’re you getting at?”

“You’re avoidant,” He says simply. “I love Uncle Seon but it’s obvious to everyone he isn’t the best at expressing himself. You got a lot of his good qualities but you also picked up on how scared of love he is after what happened with your mom,” Heeseung adds carefully, watching how you reacted to the mention but you didn’t seem to flinch like you used to as kids. “You’re a good person, a best friend, but you suck at romance. You’d rather have the person without the commitment, hence your string of hook-ups before you landed on Jay cause he didn’t run away when you tried to push him out at the start,”

You blinked, eyes trailing over Heeseung who sat on your bed nonchalantly, hands absentmindedly playing with Koi who was settled at the foot of your bed. “When the fuck did you become emotionally mature and suddenly have all the answers?”

He smiled, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Wisdom comes with age,” Heeseung jokes, causing you to roll your eyes considering he was only three years older than you. “I took a psych class last semester for the credits, it was about interpersonal relationships,”

You hum. “That makes sense. At least you actually go to class and learn, I thought your stupid business major only taught you guys the primary colors and networking,”“Yah! Next time you need help with math don’t come to me,” Heeseung scolds, though his laughter bubbles through as you smile cheekily. He hits your knee lightly, rolling his eyes. “Point is, asshole, at least talk to him. You guys are good together, in some weird, gross, way that I’ll never admit to again unless you get married and I get to give a speech and talk about how I’m the reason you two met,”

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You had no idea what you were doing standing outside the Political Science building at 4pm on a Friday but here you were. You found out from Jake that Jay had a big project due today, all the fellow PolySci students dressed in formal attire had been going in and out of the building. You rocked on the heels of your feet, surprised by how many people actually took Friday classes as you refused to enroll in any from your first semester.

Apparently, Jay had to come in the extra day for a lecture and presentation and according to Jake, his portion was supposed to end at 4:15. You had no idea if he was certain, Jake was notorious for being terrible with time, hence why he was late to nearly every event you guys planned as a group.

But here you stood, awkwardly sat on one of the concrete benches under a large tree in the courtyard. You had a direct view to the main building, again you taking Jake’s word for it and praying he got all the information right.

Ten days have passed. After your talk with Heeseung, and mulling over your own ego and pettiness for a while, you woke up today feeling confident in resolving the weird limbo you were in. You figured a text would’ve been too impersonal, instead–for some god forsaken reason, your morning self was certain you could talk face-to-face without so much as a warning to Jay that you’d be coming by.

So you sat, too stubborn to run back home like you wanted but also simmering in your own pit of anxiety as time passed. Your head lifted up every time you heard the double doors creak open, you had showed up early—just in case, and practically counted down each minute.

4:16. You attempted to remain calm, restraining yourself from calling Jake and flipping out on him stating he had the wrong time.

4:17. The minutes seemed to pass quickly now. Your gaze steady on the entrance which has stayed still for the past few.

4:18. You glanced at your phone, lip tucked between your teeth nervously and you found yourself scrolling to Jay’s contact. You contemplated pressing the call button, the tightness in your chest from your nerves doing good to convince yourself that this was an idiotic plan and you should’ve asked to meet in the first place.

Just as you were about to give in, a figure casted a shadow over your own where the sun previously shone. You looked up, part of you hoping it was Jay but you were disappointed seeing a face you were unfamiliar with. A brunette stood in front of you, dressed in the formal attire you’d seen other students wear as well.

One hand held onto his backpack strap that was slung over one shoulder. The other was nervously scratching the back of his neck as he sent you a sheepish smile. “Hi,” He spoke, voice deep but shy. His eyes were light in the sun, the brown mixing into a golden hue. “I’m Park Wonbin,”

“Hi,” You respond, confused by the sudden exchange. “Lee Y/N,” You add, a polite smile on your features wishing to hurry up whatever he came over for. The suit definitely helped present himself but you could care less. You spent the last week grueling over a man, you intend to never have to do that again. “Did you need something?”

Wonbin falters for a second, eyes casting down nervously as he slips his phone from his back pocket. “You’re-uh, you’re beautiful,” He stumbles over his words, your shoulders tensing and having to refrain from visibly grimacing knowing he was attempting to ask you out. He was cute, conventionally at least, and seemed polite from how he approached, but the last thing you needed right now was a confession when you were trying to make one to Jay. “I was wondering if I could get your socials?”

Your mouth opens, then closes, unable to find the right words to let him down gently. You give him an apologetic smile, one he didn’t seem to catch onto causing you to sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m actually waiting for someone that I’m dating,”

“Dating?” He repeats.

“Exclusively,” You add, still sporting the smile but it felt more like a grimace. You let out a huff, grabbing your bag to stand up and praying you didn’t miss Jay exiting the building in the short minutes that took up your attention. Or worse, he saw, considering how jealous he was from the start. “I have to go—”

Your words were cut short once you looked past Wonbin for a split second. A few feet away, at the edge of the grass that met the concrete courtyard, Jay stood with his bag lazily draped over his shoulder and other hand tucked in his pants pocket. His hair was combed up neatly, button up shirt unbuttoned at the top three, exposing his undershirt and chain–the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dress pants hung nicely on his hips. His eyes were narrowed, flickering between you and Wonbin who turned to follow your gaze.

“Ah, Jay-shi, hello,” Wonbin greets with a polite bow. Jay tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment, not bothering for a proper response and you wince.

Jay’s eyes traveled over him, narrowed and sharp, taking account of the phone in his hand with the familiar add contact and how close he stood next to you. They shifted to you, softening slightly but you saw the flicker, obvious annoyance and confusion seeing you standing outside his class building when you didn’t take any courses anywhere near nor did you have them on Fridays.

His gaze stayed locked on you, head tilting and your feet moved quickly to reach his side. You hesitated on linking your arm with his own, Jay arching a brow noting your nerves and you pursed your lips. With a bow, you gave Wonbin a clipped smile. “Nice to meet you,” You say quickly, wishing to be anywhere but here in the awkward stares and uncomfortable silence.

You felt Jay’s hand press to your back, urging you to get up from the goodbye he deemed unnecessary. You stood straight and he allowed his hand to hold your hip, guiding the two of you away without another word. Jay looked forward, not bothering to spare you a glance as his free hand took your bag for him to carry like second nature. You gaped, not knowing if you should speak now or explain yourself as if you’d been caught doing something bad.

“Jay I—”

“Next time be rude,” He interrupts, words clipped and filled with frustration that he was managing well. “Don’t waste your breath being polite when I’ll make sure you never have to speak to him again,”

You purse your lips, eyes staring up at him for a moment but he didn’t bother to meet your gaze. You nod, looking ahead and following his lead wherever he meant to take you. “Okay,”

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The joint was tucked between Jay’s lips, one hand on the steering wheel while the other sparked the lighter to begin burning the end of his handmade roll. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel, no words spoke between the two of you after he got you in the car and began driving.

Loud music blared from the speakers, the windows rolled down allowing for the cool breeze to run through your hair in a comforting mess. He didn’t bother putting on the usual playlist he knew you liked, the one filled with slow RnB and cheesy love songs, instead it was filled with rap, the type of upbeat and intense songs you assumed he mostly used at the gym to hype himself up to blow off steam.

Jay took a long puff to start the burning joint, the cloudy smoke filling the air between you though it dissipated fairly quickly with the windows down. He took another drag, sparing you glance for the first time as you rolled to a stoplight. He held his hand toward you, the spliff tucked between his fingers and you hesitantly reached out to take hold of the end but he quickly pulled away.

Your brows frowned, turning to Jay who stared back at you with an emotionless expression. He moves his hand once more, closer to your face and it registers that he was offering you a hit, but it had to be from him holding it. You leaned forward a bit, lips curling around the end and taking a deep inhale, the smoke flooded your lungs, Jay holding the joint steady even as the light turned green.

You pulled away, a small cough leaving your lips and you swore you caught the smirk that flickered at Jay’s lips as he watched you attempt to regain your composure. You gently pushed his hand away, him taking a long drag with ease causing you to roll your eyes.

“Are we gonna talk?” You finally manage, voice strained attempting to be louder than the song that blared through the speakers with heavy bass on every beat.

Jay spared you a short glance, joint tucked between his lips with a shrug. “Talk,” He says simply, you have to refrain from reacting to his obvious petty nature.

You pursed your lips, reaching for the stereo knob and turning down the music to a respectable level. “I didn’t come to get high with you,” You start. You nearly wince at the lame attempt at an ice breaker, Jay snorting at your words.

“You’ve pissed me off for the past week,” He shrugs. “If I was gonna hear you out, I needed this. Besides, I figured it would help you finally spit out whatever you came to say,”

“Well I’d rather not you be high for this,” You huff, growing annoyed with his attitude. “And I’d rather you actually be able to look at me and focus on me,”

Jay doesn’t say anything, instead he rolls his eyes. Smudging the half burned joint into the ashtray in the center consul, Jay pulled into a random shopping center. He parked the car on the far end, away from all the shops and foot traffic under a large tree, providing a sense of privacy under the golden sunlight as the sun had begun its descent.

He shuts off the engine, taking off his seatbelt and shifting so he could face you the best the seats allowed. Jay leans against the car door, an arm lazily draped over the wheel while the other combed through his disarray of hair. You purse your lips, a small sigh escaping them as you pull a leg up to sit half crisscrossed, the angle providing you to face him fully in the passenger seat.

Your hands wring together, suddenly nervous for the one thing you actually came to say. You let out a breath, eyes searching for his own but he was looking the other way. His jawline prominent, gaze focused on the trees that brushed in the breeze instead of you.

“Do you still mean what you said?”

Jay pauses. You saw the smallest quirk in his expression, brows frowning as he turned to you lazily. “I didn’t say that on a whim Y/N, I wouldn’t play with you like that,”

“Well, I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure the last week didn’t change your mind,” You shrug, fumbling with the hem of your skirt.

“10 days,” Jay corrects. You wince, knowing exactly how long it’s been but the way you put it seemed better than the emphasis. “You haven’t talked to me since,”

“Neither did you?” Your voice raises an octave, growing defensive while Jay merely hums, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips.

“I told you, you decide where this goes,”

You have to refrain from the groan that wants to leave your lips. You were terrible at touchy-feely serious conversations, that was obvious enough. “I thought about it,” You start, words slow and filled with hesitance. He watched, eyes glued on you though you couldn’t manage to meet his gaze as you stared down at your lap. “I think we both have our faults—lack of communication, fear of commitment, a hard time expressing our actual feelings when things are serious,”

Jay snorts, seemingly already knowing the downsides you were pointing out but doesn’t interrupt.

“So, I think we should work on that,” You add, the words a jumbled mess. “I like you, I do, but I want us to know more about each other. Sex and weed can’t be the only thing that connects us. I want to know about you, without having to force it out. I want you to trust me with whatever personal turmoil you have. I want to be with you, but we can’t just get together and have everything be the same. A relationship to me is more than this, I would be the person who knows you best, the darkest parts of you unapologetically and vice versa,”

Jay doesn’t say anything for a while. When you finally looked up, his eyes held your own. They flickered, searching for what to say and you shifted, embarrassed by the vulnerability and feeling small. “Okay,” he finally utters. “So we should date? Like a proper couple would, I should pursue you? A restart on the dynamic we have, no more sex until I prove to you what I feel,”

“Well—” You stutter, eyes wide and shaking your head. “I didn’t say all that—”

“But you deserve more than what we have now,” Jay interrupts. His voice was steady, clearly already made up in his head while you falter. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t trust you, like I didn’t want you to actually know me. I’ll do better with that, but if this’ll work you have to allow me to prove it and trust that I mean it. I never wanted you for just pleasure Y/N, not since the start, it was more than that for me but I didn’t know how to show it,”

You nod, the smallest amount of blush forming on the apples of your cheeks. You were nervous, heartbeat thumping through your ears and you had to refrain from hiding behind your hands. “Okay,” You manage out, avoiding his gaze that had shifted from serious to amused in an instant.

Jay leaned closer, the act alone causing you to look the other way as you acted as if the parking lot was fascinating. “Y/N,” He hums, the feeling of his breath tickling the skin by your ear, significantly closer than you anticipated causing you to flinch. He laughs, the sound overwhelming the flutter in your stomach. Jay reaches over, his hand gently tugging your chin, forcing you to look at him but your eyes squeezed shut and you could feel your face grow hot. “Look at me,”

You shake your head. You could hear the smile in his words. In the months of you two together, not once had he ever seen you like this. You were confident, sure of yourself, and rightfully so but now you seemed so shy and embarrassed. Jay couldn’t help but laugh, heart warmed at the sight considering he was the one to make you giddy like you were kids.

“I know I said no more sex but does that apply to kissing too?” Your eyes snapped open at his words, Jay sporting the prettiest smile you’ve seen and you nearly melted at the sight.

“I never agreed to no sex,” You mumble, tilting your head up with a small pout. Your faces were inches apart, the surly tone in your voice not going unnoticed and Jay raised a brow.

“Yeah?” He mumbles, the heat of his breath tickling your lips while you nod. Jay, with his hand still placed delicately along your jaw, pulls you close enough so your lips grazed as he spoke. “Too bad baby, I have to do this right,”

Your protests were interrupted by his lips meeting your own. You practically melted against him, a hand tangling to the back of his head to pull him closer and you felt his smirk against your lips. The kiss was intense, enough to say the unspoken words between you and to make up for the frustration from the past week. Your lips parted, attempting to deepen the kiss but Jay hummed, pulling away but not before nipping your bottom lip, dragging it out for a moment and placing a final chaste kiss.

A small whine of disappointment left your mouth as you attempted to pull him back but Jay shook his head. His fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, your eyes fluttering open to match the sight of his blown out pupils.

“No more,” He finally says, voice raspy but certain. You pout, shaking your head but Jay doesn’t allow you to get closer. “You have to be patient baby, no more,”

You huff, slumping back into the seat with your arms folded. “Fine,” You mutter, visibly bothered while Jay couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Glad to know you’ve been missin’ me,”

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“Remind me to stop lettin’ them get you high,” Jay mumbles under his breath, hands gripping your waist to keep you from practically jumping on him. You tsk, perched on your tippy toes to place a trail of sloppy kisses up his neck.

“S’not my fault,” You whine, words whispered in his ear. “You look good, and you’ve refused to let me do anything for the past month,” You add, pulling back enough for Jay to get a proper look at you. Lips pouted and swollen, eyes blinking up at him with a doe-y look, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“You get horny when you’re high,” Jay shakes his head, thumb trailing over your lip to fix the smudged gloss but you were quick to wrap your lips around his digit instead. He lets out a breathy laugh, in disbelief at your shameless nature as he takes a quick glance around. “We’re in public Y/N,”

“No one’s around,” You mutter, the words vibrating against his finger. “Let me make you feel good, we can go back to the car,”

“You’re fucking gross,” Jay tsks, though you noted the slight rasp to his words. He pulled his hand away, instead gripping your chin to connect your lips, the kiss hard, hungry and your teeth skimmed one another but you hummed in delight. Before it could proceed, Jay pulled away, pushing himself off the wall he was leant against with you following. “Behave,” He whispered in the shell of your ear, a chaste kiss placed to your temple as he pulled you along, forcing the two of you away from the hidden bathrooms you attempted to drag him to earlier.

You huff but follow without protest. His hand stayed steady against your lower back, protective and guiding through the now more crowded corridor as you made your way back to your seats. You glanced up at him every so often, still pouting over your umpteenth failed attempt. Jay had better self restraint than you thought, even if you had an obvious effect on him and it seemed physically painful to drag you off of him, he has.

You caught a glimpse of his neck, giggling at the sight of your shimmery kiss that stayed imprinted like a tattoo and he raised a brow, silently asking what was so funny but you didn’t elaborate.

The two of you reached the lower level, your friends spotted now all there and filled in their respective seats. Jake was the first to see you both, waving overly excitedly which caught the attention of the others.

At some point, between you and Jay’s agreement to actually attempt at a relationship, your friend groups have merged. Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki have come around more, no more snarky remarks, no more awkward conversations, but genuinely integrated with Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon and Jay. Lara and Manon have come around too, it took a while—Jay jumping through hoops of admittedly unnecessary tests, before he got the stamp of approval to court you. There had only been one other time of your friends all coming together thus far, and today was in support of Sunghoon’s hockey game, newly promoted to team captain and Heeseung emphasized how you all had to embarrass him for his first game as captain with large neon poster papers with his face plastered to it.

Somehow, Sunghoon managed to get enough tickets for you all in the lower bowl. How he managed to get them all seated together, you had no idea but you were sure he was regretting it with Sunoo and Manon both holding up signs and screaming rather loudly to get his attention in the players bench where the team was doing their pregame talk.

Two rows your group claimed, five sitting in one and the other four directly in front. The two seats in the second row were left unoccupied beside Jake and Heeseung. “What took you guys so long?” Lara calls out over the sound of the crowd that was filling in the stadium by the second. You merely smiled, shimming past the two to your seat while Jay followed without a word.

You heard a gasp, looking back to Jungwon who pointed at Jay with a grimace. “You guys are sick,” He tuts, the rest who sat above following his gaze and each reacting similarly.

“What? What’re we looking at?” Jake suddenly butts in, peering past you over to Jay with his brows frowned.

You snicker, turning to your almost-boyfriend who smirked. He turned his head, allowing Jake and Heeseung a clear view of his neck and the trail of kisses from your assault on him earlier. Jake gapes, reaching over to give Jay a dap-up while you roll your eyes, smacking their arms away.

Heeseung shakes his head, leaning back in his seat like a disappointed father. “You bring shame to the Lee name,” You scoff, narrowing your eyes and leaning over Jake to smack Heeseung’s elbow off the armrest he was leant against.

“I know you’re not talking, we find you like a damn dog in heat every party,”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · ─ ·✶· ─ ·

“If he doesn’t fold tonight I think it’s a loss cause,” Lara whistles, arms folding across her front as she takes a once over your body. You smile, applying your gloss and meeting her eyes in the mirror of your vanity.

It was a rare opportunity, a new club opening up near campus and the group all agreeing to hit it together for the first time. With both Sunghoon and Riki’s birthday coming and going, it allowed for the youngest to finally tag along on a night out and an excuse for a celebration before the semester ended and the holidays occurred.

Two months, two months of (mainly) innocent touches, cheesy dates that would’ve made you nauseous thinking about last year, and Jay morphing into the most perfect man as if he were made specifically for you. Countless dates, a million acts of service, and sweet nothings—you were absolutely smitten.

You knew it was your doing, telling him to take things slow, that you wanted to get to know each other first before anything official. And he’s proven that, deep conversations in the middle of the night led to vulnerability, Jay even managing to let himself cry to you for the first time when he explained his family situation and how he started selling to ensure he had money to keep him enrolled in uni.

It was a waiting game at this point. You had no idea when, or how he’d ask, but all that was left for you was to wait for him to make the final move. You’ve mentioned it, and you’ve attempted to seduce him more than once, but he’s held off. You loved the new parts of him, the parts of him that no one else knew and you were thankful he took the time to allow you both to understand one another, but god did you miss him.

Months of the best sex you had gone in an instant was horrendous for your admittedly high libido. You didn’t know how much you depended on your beneficial relationship until then. Not to mention knowing Jay the way you did now only increased your feelings for him, you wanted him for him, not just because he was hot and packed eight inches.

So you dug through your closet, finding the skimpiest little black dress you had no business buying the second you became an adult. Far too short, fitting your curves like a second skin, and deep cut in the neckline that gave a pretty view of your perky tits that sat beautifully thanks to your trusty push up that never failed before.

It was the middle of December, you truly should not be wearing that in the midst of winter and it was obvious enough what your motive was. You didn’t care, entirely shameless and excusing the lack of covering on your body with a large, thick, leather jacket and leg warmers that matched your chunky platforms. You wouldn’t be outside long either, inside the car and club would be warm enough.

Your skin glistened under the low lighting in your room, courtesy of the body shimmer Manon brought over, and your hair cascaded down in a half-up do that Jay has complimented more than once. Your make up was equally stunning, you letting a small sigh out of content as you stood, the jewelry you slipped on earlier adding a nice addition to your outfit and exposed skin.

You gave yourself a once over in your floor length mirror, spraying your signature perfume over your heat points before smiling.

“Oh yeah, he’s done for,” Manon states matter-of-factly, coming back from the bathroom where she finished getting ready. She stood beside Lara in the doorway, both dressed up as well but it was obvious you made an emphasis on your appearance for the night. “If he doesn’t fuck you tonight, call me instead,”

“Me too,” Lara adds, the three of you falling into a fit of giggles complimenting one another. You grabbed your small clutch, the other two mirroring your actions and gathering their things for the night out.

“Ladies, are you ready?!” Heeseung’s loud voice boomed through the walls, his footsteps sounding from his room that he had been cooped up in getting ready himself.

“Yes!” The three of your voices mixed in response, another round of giggles at the mimic while you heard the front door open followed by Jake’s loud voice. You heard a series of footsteps, far too many and male voices mixing together, presumably all the guys filing into your small living room on time.

Heeseung pops his head into your bedroom door. “Okay everyone’s here let’s—” He trails off upon seeing your outfit, you smiling innocently while he frowns his brows. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“A dress,” You state matter-of-factly. Heeseung scoffs, turning to Lara and Manon who looked the opposite way, knowing well enough he would’ve had a problem with it considering the first time you moved here and attempted at a girls night out in that very dress, he forced you to change.

“You’re wearing a piece of fabric Y/N,” He scolds, visibly uncomfortable with the little coverage on your body while you roll your eyes.

“My ass isn’t out and my tits are covered?” You point out, doing a spin to show, although rather short, the dress still covered enough. “We’re going to a club Hee, with a mob of guys including you, I’ll be fine,”

“You’re going to get us in a fight,” Heeseung shakes his head. “You’re going to get Jay in a fight,” He adds, the thought suddenly popping in his head and you see the way he perked up. “Jongseong, come here and look at what your girlfriend’s trying to wear!”

You scoff, arms folding across your front like a child ready to throw a tantrum but it only draws more attention to the swell of your breasts. Heeseung, being the ever dramatic, gags as he holds a hand up, not wanting to look at anything aside from your face.

“Why would you two let her put this on?” He asks Manon and Lara who shared a look before shrugging.

“She’s grown,” Manon says simply. Lara nods, giving you an apologetic wince as you could hear a set of footsteps echo through the apartment with Jay stepping into view.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks before reaching the doorway. His eyes pick up, immediately falling on you and doing a long trail over your figure. You shift, feeling shy all of a sudden compared to your previous confidence with everyone else, you noted the shift in Jay’s eyes before they met yours, his irises darker than before but he shakes his head. “What’s this?”

“A dress?” You repeat, although significantly less certain this time.

“A hot dress,” Lara interjects, attempting to help you save face and not give in to changing.

“She’s covered, she’s grown,” Manon nods. “Her man will be there along with a group of idiotic guys and us, who will kick anyone’s ass for touching her. Let her wear what she wants, it’s the 21st century! Just cause she has a fat ass and tits doesn’t mean she can’t wear tight clothes and people should know revealing outfits doesn’t give consent so we’ll just start a brawl if anything,” She says the words so simply, leaving no room for discussion.

You nod, thankful for your friends who had your back. Your motive was for Jay specifically, and you knew he wouldn’t let you out of his grasp anyway, but it was nice to hear reassurance.

Heeseung sighs, turning toward Jay giving him the final say. You held his gaze, his expression unreadable but you didn’t waver under the intensity. Finally, he nods, it barely noticeable but you break out into a smile.

“Perfect,” You grin, grabbing your clutch and the jacket from your bed. Manon and Lara giggle, leading the way out of your room with Heeseung rolling his eyes but guiding the group to where the others were waiting. You step out of the doorway, Jay quick to grab your waist and drag you against him.

“You’re playing dirty,” He grumbles, the words whispered against your ear while you hum.

“Not my fault you have a pretty girlfriend,” You shrug, pulling away enough to glance at his features.

Jay raises a brow. “Girlfriend?”

“Ah, right,” You tut, hand reaching up to gently pat his cheek. “Sorry, you have no actual claim on me so hopefully I don’t get too much attention later,” You say with a faux pout, stepping out of his grasp but you hear the scoff that came from Jay.

“If you keep talking shit like that we won’t end up going,” He mumbles, hand falling to your waist but not allowing you any time to respond as he guides you to the living room where the rest filled. You bit back the cheeky smile that wanted to fall upon your lips, the click of your heels gaining everyone’s attention as they were waiting on the two of you.

“Okay good! Everyone take a pregame shot together,” Jake calls out from the kitchen island, the open floor plan showing everyone huddled around him with shot glasses already filled. You felt the pairs of eyes settle on you, Jay unamused as you felt his grip on your hip tightens while he pulls you closer.

“You get two seconds to stop staring,” He calls out, voice low as he watches the pairs of eyes flicker up and around awkwardly, finding anything else to stare at. “Don’t piss me off, I know she looks good but you know better,”

Manon whistles, clapping in delight at Jay’s warning. Lara laughs along with her, Heeseung rolling his eyes and grimacing at the thought of all his friends finding his little cousin attractive. You place a hand to Jay’s chest, reassuring him it was fine.

You clear your throat, stepping to the island and grabbing the two unclaimed shot glasses in front of Jake. Holding one to Jay, you smiled at the group, clearing the uncomfortable air.

“Shots?”

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God, he should’ve made you change. It was bad enough Jay was barely managing himself as it was, but that little black dress that clung to your skin was impossible to ignore. The past hour you’ve been here, you’ve had more than a handful of eyes on you and the ego boost Jay got every time you clung to him did wonders but with the more alcohol that entered your system, the more bold you got.

You were tipsy by the time you reached the club, the pregame shots doing its job in making you feel a buzz. The fruity cocktail you had him order you along with the rounds of shots Heeseung and Jake ordered, setting you over what was the typical amount you drank.

And just like with weed, you were horny when drunk—specifically when Jay was in the vicinity. You had been dancing, a messy group of you, Manon, and Lara. Heeseung and Jake were there with your trio, but the eldest long forgotten after he found a girl for the night and Jake came back to the bar to order another drink.

Each time you returned to the claimed table your group had, you grew closer and closer to Jay. Your hands lingered, the kisses you placed going from his lips to his neck. The last time you came for a sip of your melting Mai Tai, your hand grazed over his pants, feeling his dick that reacted embarrassingly fast to your touch. You sipped from the straw innocently, even engaging in conversation with Sunoo and Riki as if you weren’t attempting to pump him under the table before you disappeared back into the crowd with Manon and Lara at your sides.

Sunghoon nudged Jay’s shoulder, beer in hand that he had been nursing since they first got here as he nodded in your direction. “You guys together yet?” He asks over the blaring music.

Jay, flickering his gaze from you for a second to glance at him, shook his head slightly. He reached for his own glass, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid with a scrunch of his nose. “Not yet,”

Sunghoon whistles, his eyes scanning over the packed club floor for a moment. “She still need more time?”

“Haven’t asked,” Jay shrugs, the words causing Sunghoon to give him a confused look. “What?”

“Why not?” He laughs. “You guys still not having sex too? Is that why she’s all dressed up and trying to climb on top of you tonight?” Jay rolls his eyes, giving Sunghoon a warning look who merely holds his hands up showing no harm. “I’m just sayin’ man, you know she’s fine, she knows she’s fine. You need to get on that before she gets bored of waiting and finds someone else to mess with,”

“She’s the one who told me to take it slow,” Jay scoffs, suddenly defensive over your relationship as his eyes locked on you in the crowd.

“And you have,” Sunghoon agrees. “You’ve done the cute dating bullshit for the past two months, you’ve opened up to her about everything. You two seem pretty damn close so why not make it official? I’m tired of you taking hour long showers beating your dick everyday, we have one bathroom and too many people in the house,”

“It’s me, you, and Jake,” Jay snickers, finding Sunghoon’s dramatics amusing while the slightly younger of the two nods in emphasis.

“You two keep wasting all of the hot water! Jake has always taken forever but you? I know what you’re doing you sick fuck,” Jay snorts, unable to keep his laughter from bubbling over while Sunghoon lightly shoves his shoulder. “I’m serious. You’re definitely happier now too but you’re still an asshole sometimes. I think the blueballs are getting to you,”

Jay merely nods, not bothering with a defense as his eyes stay glued to your figure. Manon and Lara were dancing, bodies pressed together as Lara was rolling her hips onto Manon to the beat of the song, you yelling in delight giggling at your friends. Your hips swayed along to the music, albeit a bit sloppy due to how much alcohol you had in your system but you were having the time of your life.

Until a random guy suddenly came up to your left, far too close for comfort and you stepped to the side, still in your own little world believing he wanted to dance near you not on you. Manon was quick to catch it, pulling Lara up and Jay watched as the girls pulled you close, away from the unknown man between them. He spoke, Lara frowning her brows and holding up at hand to keep distance.

Aside from Heeseung who had disappeared not long ago, the rest of the guys sat at the table, conversing and watching the nightlife as well as you three in their direct sight. Sunoo leaned across the table, brows frowned as he looked to Jay to ensure he was seeing what they were.

He was, eyes zeroed in on the back of the guy's head but not moving quite yet. You were having fun, still unaware as you danced and Manon and Lara did good at keeping you guarded. If the man walked away, there would be no need for Jay to step in.

“Hyung?” Jungwon says carefully, brows frowning seeing Manon begin to argue with the man.

“The fuck is he doing?” Jake scoffed, words slightly slurred as he pulled himself up. Jay shook his head, standing as well to make his way over. Sunghoon followed, the most level headed as he wasn’t nearly as drunk as Jake and although he’d defend his friends for anything, it wasn’t nearly the same as it was for Jay protecting you.

The youngest three stayed at the table, keeping watch of your belongings but also ready to step in if need be. Riki shook his head, Sunoo’s brows pinched together worriedly, and Jungwon scanned to see if Heeseung was anywhere near.

Jay was bad enough, Heeseung would only add to it as he tended to be irrational when it came to you, especially while drunk.

“Get the fuck away,” Manon’s voice pulled you out of the daze you were in. You frowned, vision slightly blurry as you turned, hyperaware of the fact that you were sandwiched between your two friends though no one was happy and carefree anymore.

“She’s good,” Lara repeats, hand still up creating distance with the unfamiliar man who stood a mere foot away.

“She’s been dancing alone, I can keep her company while you two dance,” The guy offers, an innocent smile on his lips but you frown.

“She has a man,” Manon emphasizes. “She’s fine dancing with us, go away,”

“Why’s she here by herself then?” The guy snickers, looking around for anyone that would’ve been paying attention to you three. The people around you paid no mind, far too drunk and in their own groups to notice the hostility forming. “C’mon, she’s wearing a dress like that here by herself? She wants company,”

“What I’m wearing has nothing to do with you?” You scoff. Lara was quick to grab your arm, a notorious reputation in the Lee family was to pick fights when intoxicated. There’s been less than a handful of times where you actually tried to fight someone bigger than you at parties, typically when a guy was making someone else uncomfortable. “I don’t fucking know you, go away,”

“I’m just trying to have fun baby, don’t act like that,” The man’s tone changed when talking to you, appearing genuine but you rolled your eyes with visible disgust.

“Jay!” You call out, pushing out of the barrier Manon and Lara had on you. You go to move past the guy, certain that the table he’d be at was straight ahead but you’re stopped once the unfamiliar creep grabs you. “Are you fucking dumb? Get off of me!”

Manon and Lara were yelling as well, your elbow flying into the man’s face as you flailed in his hold, the hit to his nose enough for him to stumble. You didn’t have time to turn around and hit him like you anticipated, instead you felt a different pair of hands pull you back. You nearly began to yell again but you turned to see Sunghoon, his hands holding you in place by your shoulders but his eyes were focused ahead.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You heard Jake’s voice over the music. He stood in front of Manon and Lara, shoving the guy back another few steps. Jay stood in front of you, blocking your view but you could see the stiff positioning of his shoulders. “They told you to get lost and you think grabbing her is the answer?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy shoots back, hand holding his nose before pressing the damp blood that came from his nostril. “That bitch hit me!”

“No shit,” Jay scoffs, voice dangerously low and humorless through his dry laughter. “Your fucking lucky she’s the one who did it,” He spits while the man takes a second, eyes narrowing at Jay as he analyzed his features longer than necessary.

“Ay, hold on,” He laughs, holding up his hands to show no harm. “You’re Jay, aren’t you? You sell right? Man I haven’t seen you in a while,” The last part was quieter than the rest, the words causing Jay to roll his eyes before it clicked in realization. “That your girl? She’s strong man,”

“What’d I tell you last time Rinu?” Jay lets out an exasperated sigh. “You owe me money, and now you hit my girl? You’re begging like a bitch for me to do something,”

“I didn’t hit her,” Rinu corrects. “I didn’t know she was your girl either, she’s wearing that dress and been looking at me all night so—”

“In your fucking dreams,” You laugh, throughly baffled by his attempt to spin the blame on you. “You’re a fucking pervert who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer,”

Jay turns his head, catching a glimpse of you who struggled in Sunghoon’s grasp, standing on your tippy toes to throw insults over his figure that blocked your sight. He smirks, a hand held out for you to take and Sunghoon lets you leave his side. Jay sighs, his arm slithering around your waist and you fit perfectly into him, his hand holding you tight knowing you could pounce any second to attempt another swing.

“I’ll let your brother know,” Jay nods, the words causing Rinu’s previous smug expression to drain from his face. “I’m sure he’d be happy to handle it for me,”

“Jay, man, come on—”

“One of you wanna walk him out?” Jay interrupts, the words spoken to Sunghoon and Jake who nod in response. Sunghoon moved first, pushing Rinu forward without a word, shoving him through the crowd with Jake tagging along happily, practically bouncing on his feet to talk shit and ensure the club security knew to not let him in again.

“That was fucked up,” Manon huffs, hands running over her hair to straighten out any loose strands.

Lara nods with a sigh. “You need to stop fighting people,” She scolds, pointing a finger at you as you send them an apologetic smile.

“I knew the guys would handle it,” You defend meekly but know well enough your temper gets the best of you at times. “I’m sorry, thank you for defending me at first though. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer,”

“Yeah weirdo,” Manon scoffs. “Who was that guy?” The question was directed to Jay who still had you pulled flush against him.

“His brother used to buy from me a lot, I sold to him a few times but he started flaking on the money. I stopped selling to both of them because of it but he’s scared shitless of his brother. You can imagine how me telling him I wouldn’t sell to him because of Rinu went for them,” Jay shrugs, the old memories of him first selling popping in his head.

“Right, well hopefully his brother fucks him up then,” You mutter bitterly. You wrap your arms around yourself, the outfit you picked suddenly not as comfortable as before causing you to shy away.

The three noticed, Lara holding out her hand to give yours a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s take a break and drink a little more. Fucker ruined my buzz,”

Manon hums in agreement, the two leading the way back to the table where the last three of your group waited, practically buzzing to hear the context of what happened. Jay held you close against him, hands resting on your hips as the two of you shimmed through the crowd.

Just before you reached the table, he pulled you back and placed a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “I’m sorry he touched you,”

You pout, spinning around to face Jay as your hands cup his cheeks. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong,” You reassure, leaning up to place a kiss to his lips. “You guys came in time and we’re fine, let’s not let that ruin the night, okay?”

His eyes closed for a moment, basking in the feeling of your soft hands that caressed his skin. Almost instantly, the simmering anger that stayed beneath the surface began to subside, Jay letting out a breath and his head moved to place a kiss to your palm. “Stay with me for the rest of the night, yeah?”

You smile, nodding along with a little giggle escaping your lips. “You gonna show me your dance moves then, pretty boy?”

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“I’ve decided on my New Year’s resolution!” You grin, your voice carrying through the empty apartment as you waltz into the kitchen. Jay hummed, back turned to you as he stood at the stove, the delectable aroma filling your senses and you nearly went back on your word at the sight of him.

Loose pajama pants hung low on his hips, a black tank top allowed for a view of his arms and shoulders that flexed as he moved. To top it off, the messy bed head and apron over his clothes were disgustingly adorable.

“What’s that, love?” Jay calls back, not expecting you to be standing at the kitchen island so he jumps as he turns around. You smile, leant over the counter and your hair still wet from the shower you just had. The large white t-shirt you borrowed from him was damp in the areas where you pulled your hair forward, the areas see through to your breasts as you wore nothing underneath and he had to force himself to look in your eyes. The new jewelry of your piercings were cute, dazzling hearts on either side of your nipples that poked out beneath the material.

“I’ve decided,” You start, walking around the island to reach him by the stove. Jay nearly dropped to his feet, a dangerous outfit you were wearing as he shared his apartment with Sunghoon and Jake but you were told they wouldn’t be home til the afternoon. The only thing he knew you were wearing was his shirt, he prayed you weren’t cruel enough to walk through his house without your panties as well. “I’m gonna respect myself, no more messing with boys unless we’re in a committed relationship,” Jay paused, eyes narrowing at you who stood with a cheeky smile. “No more kisses, no more touching, and no more sleepovers. I’m off limits until I’m off the market starting right now,”

Jay scoffs in disbelief, turning to shut off the stove, interrupting the breakfast he was amidst making for you. Two weeks ago after the club night out, sleepovers had become a regular routine for the two of you. Nothing went further than the deep make-out sessions and dry humping that forced Jay to lock himself in the bathroom like some loser teenager. He was planning out the way to ask, waiting for the holidays to end to form an anniversary date that wouldn’t share the busy season in the future.

But you, it seems, couldn’t wait another few days. Practically forcing his hand with the no kissing no touching rules, those being his saving grace to keep himself grounded thus far. It would be impossible, especially tonight at the New Year’s Eve party you’d all be attending and the outfit he helped you pick out.

It was cruel, a low blow, but Jay had to give it to you for knowing what you want. He pulled the apron over his head, tossing it onto the counter and taking a step closer to you who still stood with the same cheeky expression, arms folded across your front and ensuring he saw the swell of your tits through the material.

“You know, I had a whole date planned,” Jay starts, you humming as a pathetic attempt to seem sad for him. He corners you against the island, arms trapping you on either side of the marble top but not close enough to touch you. “January 4th,” He sighs, tilting his head with a faux pout. “Day trip, I was gonna take you out to the beach, we’d have a picnic. I even had a necklace ready to give you and a flower order placed. Few days away from the holidays, far enough from anyone’s birthday so I’d be able to spoil you with trips for our anniversary,”

Your resolve falters hearing his words. Your lips part, unable to come up with a proper response hearing his play-by-play and how much thought he put into the day that was quite literally a dream for you. Jay tsks, eyes holding your own with no sense of remorse, instead they were amused, practically egging you on to take back your words.

“This’ll be a funny story to tell our kids, December 31st is our anniversary ‘cause your mom couldn’t wait anymore, forced my hand in asking her in my shitty college apartment,” He mimics, a snort leaving his lips at the hypothetical while your heart picks up at the mention of Jay banking on the long term with you. “You can’t say no now, tell me you’re mine and I’ll give you what you want since you’re so desperate you had to find a way to make me ruin all our plans,”

His voice was low, head dipped dangerously close to yours but he still wasn’t touching. His body invaded your space, almost suffocating but he respected your rule. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, head tilting to feel his lips against your own but Jay clicks his tongue.

“Tell me we’re together, Y/N,” Jay hums, words raspy and practically mumbled into your mouth but he stayed far enough away to ensure they didn’t quite touch.

“Jay please,” You force out, the whine in your voice almost pornographic and your thighs squeezed together where you stood. “We can do your plan on the fourth, call it our actual anniversary but I need you,” You beg, arms trailing up and falling to his neck. You attempted to pull him closer, to reach up for a kiss but Jay stayed steady. “Please baby, it’s too much. It’s been too long, I miss you—I need you, I know you want me too so please,”

Your attempt at getting him to fold first failed. Exceptionally so but your cloudy judgment refused to let you acknowledge how utterly fucked out you sounded already, something he’d be sure to tease you about later but you didn’t care. You leaned up, straining on your tippy toes to begin a sloppy trail up his neck, sucking at a particular spot below his ear you remember being his favorite. One of your hands trailed down, grazing over the indentation of his muscles, each flexing at your touch until you reached his pants. You paused at the waistband, palm trailing down and you moaned at the feeling of his fully hard cock that was strained in the material.

You peered up at him, hand working through the pajama pants and lips pouted. “Please? Let me make you feel good Jjongie,”

He would’ve been insane to say no. Park Jongseong put up a good fight but the morality he had for your relationship was out the window as soon as you looked up at him. Months, three months he lasted, countless cold showers and growing nearly desensitized to the feeling of his own hand led to this.

“You’re such a slut sometimes,” Jay finally says, the words an insult but you grinned. One of his hands pushed you down to your knees, the other ridding his pants and underwear at once, his erect length smacking against his torso. “You missed my dick that much? Making you act dumb for it?”

You didn’t respond, eyes fixated on his pretty pink tip that was begging for a release. Jay pulled you up, shifting so you sat on his foot and he nearly laughed at the lack of underwear you had on. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, suddenly shy but he shook his head.

“C’mere,” Jay mumbles, a hand on the back of your head while the other guides his cock into your mouth. You licked a long strip up his shaft, tongue swirling around the head before spitting extra spit on it. You peered up at him, a smirk on his lips with heavy breaths heaving his chest. You opened your mouth, taking in his girth and you gave yourself a second to adjust but Jay had other plans.

His hips jutted forward, pushing himself deep down your throat without warning and your eyes snapped shut. He pulled back, a hand gently caressing your cheek. “You okay, pretty?”

You nod, a slight soreness beginning in the back of your throat but you loved the way he was handling you. This is what you wanted, to show how eager you were to please and for Jay to use you as he wished. Three long, bullshit months without his dick was hell, you hoped it’d never happen again.

You open your mouth, one of your hands gripping the base of his shaft as you begin to take him in again. You moved up and down, a slow but deliberate pace which allowed you to take him deeper each time. He smiled, head lulling back remembering your lack of a gag reflex as he reached the back of your throat, your cheeks hallowing and staying put for a second on your own accord.

Once you pulled out you spit the excess saliva onto his shaft, your hand pumping up and down creating a slobbery mess along his thighs as well as your chin. “Good job baby, makin’ me feel good with that pretty little mouth,” He praises, the hand on the back of your head having a light hold on your hair. He shoved his dick back into your mouth, guiding you back and forth at a pace he enjoyed and you hallowed out your cheeks, allowing for his hips to move in sync and fuck your mouth. He pressed himself all the way down, your eyes stinging with tears at the feeling of his tip pushed down your throat that clenched unintentionally.

He pulled out, a small pop sounding at suck you had on his tip. You felt him twitch, your lips quirking with a smirk knowing well enough it would be easy to get him to cum, his pent up frustration easy to unfold. You stared up at him, eyes doe-y and wide, lashes fluttering and a beautiful mess of spit that glistened from your lips and chin. You sat beneath him, back arched and shirt hiked up so he got a perfect view of your ass and pushed up tits through the still see-through shirt.

Jay doesn’t say a word, instead his arms hook around your waist and he pulls you up with ease. You yelp in surprise, the cool marble countertop causing goosebumps to arise on your skin while you stare at Jay with the same look. He leans over, a trail of kisses starting from your ankle, working his way up to your inner thigh.

“Jay,” You squirm, his series of open mouth kisses creating a circle around your heat. “Stop teasing,” You pout, hips bucking as he used one hand to push them back down.

He tsks, eyes flickering up to meet your own before placing a kiss to the top of your vulva. A loud gasp leaves your lips, head falling back but growing frustrated as he moves back to your thighs. “You’re so needy,” He hums, breath fanning against your lips as one of his fingers skims over your center. A laugh leaves his lips as reaches your hole, the collection of arousal drenching the digit enough for him to slip it in with ease.

“Oh my—” A loud moan escaped your lips, hips rolling, feeling his finger curl, the size of his hands much larger than yours and doing so much more than you ever could. Your pussy clenches around him, a measly finger enough to make you a mess and he can’t help but smirk at the sight of you pulling him in. “Fuck, fuck, please. More Jjong, please,”

Jay licks a strip up your folds, finger still inside and pumping in and out slowly. Your moans fill the room, his tongue flattening against your core, flicking up and down your clit as if he were starved. He hums against you, the vibration causing your hips to buck and legs clench, Jay forcibly holding your legs down to continue. He was good, one of the only guys to make you cum on his tongue before, but something about the desperation he was giving was intoxicating. His finger fluttered in and out of you, a second added in the mix while he practically made out with your clit. Licking, sucking, listening to your reactions and curling his fingers hitting just the right spot.

“Oh fuck,” You rush out, hands finding his hair and tangling through the strands. “Oh my god, baby, please don’t stop,” Your hips bucked, moving in sync with his mouth that refused to come up for a breath of air. His nose nudged against your clit every so often, tongue swirling up and down with his fingers pumping in you at an overwhelming rate. A loud moan escaped your lips, your walls clenching around his digits and Jay continued to lick your clit slowly, ensuring your orgasm road out as long as it could as your legs closed due to the sensitivity.

When he finally pulled away, the bottom portion of his face was wet with your slick. He gently pulls his fingers out of you, making sure to suck the drops of you clean before he stood up. Your eyes met his own, pupils blown out and heavy breaths filling the space between you.

“You okay?” He asks softly, leaning over your body and placing a kiss to your lips. You hum against him, tongue swiping against his own and you felt his smile. “Good, we’re not done yet,” He mumbles, the feeling of his shaft swiping up your slick folds causing you to gasp. He smears the precum off his tip, giving his dick a few pumps as he grazes the tip against your pussy.

“You’re so pretty baby,” Jay praises, one hand squeezing your hip while the other guides his tip to your hole. Gasps left each other's lips, your eyes half-lidded as you stared up at him. His hips push forward, pushing himself further into you at a dangerously slow pace. Your pussy clenches around him all the way until he bottoms out, stilling for a moment to gain his composure. “Fuuck, I’ve missed you,” He mumbles, head tilting back and eyes shut in pleasure.

Your moans fill the air between you, your hips moving to create some type of friction causing him to hiss. “H-hold on baby,” Jay stutters, eyes still shut and you see the way he forced himself to hold back. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, your hand trailing down his prominent muscles with a pout. “I haven’t felt you in a while, gonna make me cum too fast,” He explains in a hushed voice, gaze meeting your own and noting the smirk that picked up on your lips.

“Guess you’ll just have to give me more than one then,”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

Three rounds. Three you managed in under two hours. One in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, and one in the shower attempting to clean up from the other two. It was a record for the both of you, the urgency due to how pent up you both were along with the fact you wanted to finish before either Jake or Sunghoon had come home.

Jay had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when the pair walked in. The two complained about the windows having been opened in the midst of winter but Jay snorted back stating it was either be cold or them coming home to the smell of sex.

There was a series of yells, disgusted by the fact that the two of you fucked somewhere in the shared space before shifting to thanks of a higher being for Jay getting pussy for the first time in months. Jake had personally come to thank you, wishing you a happy sex life so his best friend wouldn’t be a “pent up prick all the time.” The conversation then shifted to congratulations on your relationship, genuinely happy for the two of you and boasting that they were the first to know but you shut them down before they could text the group chat and wreck havoc.

Jay explained, with minimal details, that your anniversary would technically be the fourth. Sunghoon snorted at the fact that you both were too horny to wait but also stated how utterly stupid it was to wait until you were a couple in the first place considering you had been fucking for a long time prior.

Now here you were, sitting in the passenger seat comfortably lacing your fingers with Jay’s who drove. Meanwhile, Manon, Lara, and Sunoo were crammed in the back. The other half of your group crammed in Sunghoon’s car—though Jungwon volunteered himself as the DD so he drove for the night.

“You guys make me sick,” Manon huffs, tossing the empty water bottle she had been hydrating with in your direction.

You sent her an innocent smile, tossing the bottle back as Sunoo and Lara laugh at the sight. You hear Jay’s chuckle, his eyes flickering from the rear view mirror to see Manon’s finger flick you off but you paid her no mind. You smiled at him, this time genuine and he spared you a glance as you rolled to a spotlight. He peered to the backseat, a smirk forming on his lips before leaning in, placing a chaste kiss to your lips earning a series of grumbles and gags from the back.

You looked to the front, the light still red and you took the opportunity to pull Jay back. You connect your lips once more, his smile felt against your lips and your free hand holding up the middle finger in response to your friends who groaned with dramatics.

He pulled away as the light flickered green, instead lacing your hand with his own and placing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Sick!” Manon huffs.

“Wait, when’d you get this bracelet?” Sunoo suddenly asks, pointing to you and Jay’s interlocked hands, the dazzling sparkle of your newly gifted tennis bracelet shining in the nightlight.

Lara hums, patting Sunoo’s shoulder. “I forget you went home for Christmas,” She giggles, wiggling her brows suggestively. “It was her present from Jay,”

“Along with a Prada bag and a gazillion new make up items,” Manon snorts, you sticking her tongue out at her which she mirrors.

“I also got her lingerie,” Jay adds nonchalantly. You gape, smacking his shoulder while he laughs. Lara gasps, the final gift being unknown while Sunoo cringes.

“Was it cute?” Manon asks and you nod.

“Hot,” You smirk. “I’ll show you guys later, it’s comfortable too,”

Jay whips his head at the mention of you sharing his outfit choice. You giggle, rubbing his shoulder reassuringly while the girls snicker from the back.

“Sorry Jay, before you there was us. We got all the nudes and pre-approved them,” Lara shrugs.

“I literally pierced her nipples,” Manon snorts. “You’re welcome for that by the way,” Your eyes widened, Sunoo choking on his spit in the corner where he sat.

Jay stiffened, sparing you a glance while you fumble for your words. “Manon!” Was the best you could come up with, voice an octave higher and Lara laughing from her seat in the middle.

Manon pauses, turning to Sunoo and wincing. “Sorry?” She offers. “I forgot not everyone here has seen you naked, my bad,”

“Naked?” Jay interjects.

Lara sighs, patting his shoulder with a shake of her head. “We’re girls Jongseong, this is normal, don’t take it personal,”

Manon hums in agreement, you smiling sheepishly as he glances at you. You shrug, pulling his hand closer toward your chest.

Sunoo, now knowing far too much information about the three of you, wished he switched places with Riki earlier. Jay doesn’t say anything for a moment, stiff silence falling over the car before he smirks.

“Good job on the piercings,”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“Do I have to piss on your leg like a dog or what?” Jay scoffs, allowing you to drag him away from the random guy who attempted on hitting on you after he disappeared to the bathroom for two minutes. You snort, shaking your head and guiding your way through the sea of people.

There was a surprising amount at the frat party. You would’ve assumed most would’ve been home for the break, but that didn’t stop the house from being filled to the brim and everyone packed in like sardines. Loud music blared throughout, the sound traveling to the backyard where your seats were left.

Jungwon, Riki, and Sunghoon sat in the far corner around the fire-pit that was claimed early on in the night. You and Jay being the only couple, choosing to shy away from the crowd inside, were joined by each due to their introverted nature or simply because they didn’t want to deal with the scene inside.

You made your way back, settling into your seat, well Jay’s even though you had your own but he refused to have you anywhere aside from his lap. You were covered up, outfit certainly more acceptable for the cold weather and snuggled into his embrace. You felt him shift beneath you, a familiar baggy being pulled from his jacket causing you to raise a brow.

“I said I’d stop selling this new year, not smoking,” Jay winks, placing a kiss on your temple as you roll your eyes. The lighter igniting caught everyone’s attention, Jay helping you start with the first puff, the smoke filling your senses with a deep inhale. Jay lifted his gaze, glancing over at Jungwon and Riki. “You guys smoke?” He asks as he takes a hit of his own, passing the joint to Sunghoon.

Jungwon shakes his head, Riki holds up his puff bar instead that he pulled from his pocket. Your eyes light up, seeing the pretty light pink vape and Jay shakes his head knowing you were enticed by the color. “What flavor is that?”

“Peach-guava,” Riki answers, rolling his eyes at Jungwon who snorted at the fruity flavor. He passed the bar to Sunghoon, who exchanged the joint to him before handing it over.

You grin, taking a deep inhale and instantly feeling the smoke flood your senses. The fruity smell mixed with the flower, Riki taking his first hit from the joint with a cough immediately leaving his lips. Sunghoon hold out his half empty water bottle to the youngest, you blowing out a long puff of air directly in Jay’s face as he grimaced.

You giggle, enjoying the flavored air and hold the vape for Jay to try. Him shaking his head, gently pulling the puff bar from your hands to make its way back to Riki. “I don’t like nic,” Jay mumbles, scrunching his nose at the fruity air that still lingered.

“Baby,” You tease, sticking out your tongue while Jay rolls his eyes.

“Shits nasty,” He says simply. “It’s worse for you too,”

“Oh and smoking weed like a habit isn’t?” You snort.

“It’s not as bad as long as you’re not addicted,” Sunghoon chips in, taking a long drag from the joint before it finally reaches you and Jay. You pout with a small huff. Jay smiles, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer.

He lifted the spliff to his lips, taking an inhale before leaning up, his lips ghosting against your own to exhale the smoke in your mouth. You smile, connecting your lips fully as Jay hums against you.

“Gross,” Jungwon boos, Sunghoon and Riki chuckling at the sight of you two.

“Shut up man,” Jay teases, lifting the joint to your lips for a puff. You oblige, maintaining the eye contact that Jay forced himself to break, swallowing hard causing you to smile.

You placed a chaste kiss to the shell of his ear. “Another round before the new year?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty,” Jay groans, feeling your slick against him as you grind your hips down on his shaft. The two of you managed to slip away from the others twenty minutes ago, giving yourself thirty minutes before midnight when they’d be sure to come looking for you.

Perched in the backseats of Jay’s car, you had just pulled yourself up from giving him head. Your legs wrapped around his waist, you naked aside from your panties that were pulled to the side while Jay still had his shirt on and pants pooled down at his ankles.

Jay, ever the courteous, was kind enough to lay down a spare blanket he had tucked away in the trunk months ago after a day trip to the beach with the guys, considerate of your friends who would be making their way home with you later on.

His hands trail up your skin, the dim lighting from the street lamp being the only illumination in the car parked along the quiet street aside from the frat house in full swing. Jay pulled you closer, arm wrapped around your waist and shifted so he was able to take one of your nipples in between his lips. Your head lulled back, humming in delight feeling his tongue swipe against the cool metal bar, toying with your piercing and his other hand gently rolled the other nub between his finger tips.

You lifted your weight off his lap momentarily, hand falling to his hard shaft and guiding the tip between your lips. You smile, feeling him hum against you, the pool of arousal between your legs more than enough lubricant as you slowly inched down on his dick. Breathy moans fill the air, your eyes pinching shut at the fullness and Jay’s grip on your hips tightening. You stilled as you bottomed out, allowing you both a second to settle at the feeling of his cock buried all the way inside you.

Your hips rocked, slowly at first. The curve of his dick hitting just right, tip kissing your cervix and clit rubbing against his pelvis creating more friction. You couldn’t remember the last time you rode him, making a mental note to do so more often and Jay’s half lidded eyes stayed focused on you. His hands stay put on your waist, guiding you back and forth, encouraging you to move against him at a consistent pace.

You felt him twitch, your eyes opening to see Jay fixated on your stomach. You roll your hips, moaning at the feeling but Jay presses his palm against your lower abdomen, the feeling causing the fullness of his dick to increase.

“Oh fuck,” He breathes out. “I’m all the way in you, huh?” He smirks, the belly bulge something new he hadn’t seen before and couldn’t help but boost his ego at the sight.

You let out a breathy laugh, lifting your hips slightly before pushing back down. Jay moans, the sight of him filling you euphoric, his hands helping guide you up and down, slow at first, deliberate with each stroke before his hips began to meet you halfway. The lewd noises of your skin hitting filled the car, the wetness between you heard, your arousal dampening your thighs.

“Jay,” You moan, tits bouncing along to each stroke, palms pressed to his chest, nails digging into his skin with the recoil of your ass hitting his hips. “Feels so deep,” You add, words mumbled together in a jumbled mess.

A phone rings through the hot air between you. A groan leaving your lips as you fumbled behind your back, picking up the buzzing phone without a glance at the screen for Jay to answer. You stopped bouncing on his dick, giving yourself a small break as he held the device up to his ear.

“What’s up?” Jay asks without a hitch, voice steady but his eyes stay glued to your body. His free hand sat at your waist, rolling your hips forward against his own as your eyes widened, biting back a muffled moan. “We’re a little preoccupied,” He answers after a beat, loud voices jumbling together and you watch the smirk form on his features. From the smug tone of his voice, and the coincidence of the both of you disappearing without explanation, it didn’t take a genius to know what you two went off to do.

He juts his hips forward, skin slapping together creating a clap and your hand flies up to your mouth. He pulls the phone away for a split second, the same cheeky smile on his features as he winks. “Yeah we’ll meet you guys after,”

You heard a series of voices, no doubt your friends and in particular hearing Manon scream through the speaker that Jay winced at. He rolls his eyes, ending the call and tossing the phone beside him on the backseats. “Always interrupting us,” He tsks playfully, hands helping you bounce up and down and hips meeting your own at an equal rhythm. You smiled, though it didn’t last as moans fell from your lips, his name repeated like a prayer while Jay leaned forward, one hand falling to your clit and managing to capture one of your tits in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple and sucking with a pop.

“Good job baby,” Jay praises, heavy breaths leaving his lips. Your eyes squeeze shut, palms pressed to his chest and he could feel your pussy clench around him. “There you go, make yourself cum on my dick, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You mewl. A whine comes from your lips, the familiar pit in your stomach tightening and the feeling of his cock hitting deep into your cervix was enough to push you over the edge. You could hear Jay’s heavy breathes, each becoming more shallow, his grip tightening on your body, and quiet moans followed the feeling of your walls that clenched around him.

“Fuck, oh my—fuck, Jay please,” You hips jut down, stopping the in and out thrust to instead feel every inch of his dick buried all the way inside you. You rock yourself back and forth, fast and deliberate, chasing the pleasure while Jay couldn’t help himself, eyes ravishing the way you used him, the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and the fucked out look you sent him was enough.

Almost simultaneously, you tense, body shaking and pussy clenching with a loud series of moans. Feeling your own orgasm, the heat that flooded within you added to the euphoric feeling, the twitch of Jay’s dick buried inside you—shooting out hot beads of cum directly in your cunt, was overstimulating in the best way possible.

“Good job pretty girl,” Jay pants, head thrown back against the seats, hands gripping your thighs stopping your body from bucking, legs tense against his own. “You did so well, such a good girl f’me,”

You slump against his body, head buried in the crook of his neck with his arms wrapped around your waist. The slight sweat on your bodies ignored, pressed against one another as close as humanly possible as you regain your breath. “M’tired,” You mumble, words whispered against his skin and Jay laughs lightly.

“I know my love,” He agrees, a hand soothingly trailing up and down your back. A lingering kiss was placed to your cheek, sweet and innocent, filled with more than lust from before. You turn your head slightly, enough so your faces are centimeters apart but able to look at Jay. His eyes were glossy, a certain fondness in his gaze that you couldn’t help but smile at. “What’s so funny?” He tsked, though he sported a toothy grin of his own at the sight of your glowing state.

“You like me,” You giggle, a little delirious but entirely satisfied with the childish statement. He chuckles, nodding once with another short peck to the tip of your nose.

“I do,” he confirms. “You like me too,”

“I do,” You repeat, the same giddy expression on your features. Jay hums, his gaze flickering away from you after a moment. Silence fills the car, your steady breaths mixing but your eyes stay trained on Jay, at first merely admiring his features in the dim lighting, but you felt a subtle shift in his demeanor.

If you didn’t know him so well, you could’ve missed it. So you sat up slightly, your finger reaching out to poke the dimple in his cheek, pulling him out of the daze where he was staring out the car window. He blinks, shaking his head and gently moving your hand away from his face, lacing your fingers together instead.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, words quiet and soft, as if you spoke too loud it would break the bubble you were in. Jay hums, shaking his head with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You frown, sitting up entirely to look at him properly. “Jay,”

“Nothing baby,” He reassures, though it did little to help the visible nervousness in his eyes. You tilt your head, completely disregarding the fact that he was practically cock warming you, and entirely ready to have a proper conversation. “I promise, s’nothing important,”

“We just had insanely good car sex but you look worried instead of relieved,” You deadpan. “It’s important now. Talk to me Jjong, you know I’d rather know than you let it fester alone,”

Jay pauses, taking a deep breath as his eyes shut. The hand interlocked with your own squeezing tighter, as if he were afraid you’d slip through his fingers. “Is…” He begins, a slight crack in his voice and you frown. Jay opens his eyes to meet your own, the visible glossiness holding back tears which causes you to react immediately, your free hand brushing against his cheek as you urge him to continue. “Would it scare you away if I told you I love you?”

You pause, mouth parting agape in surprise. Your heart begins to thump in your chest, loud enough you were sure he could hear it too. “You’re not just saying that out of post-nut delusions, right?” You mumble, lamely attempting to lighten the air between you, giving Jay the room to take back his words but he shook his head.

“I know we only agreed to something real a few months ago,” He starts, a nervous smile playing at his lips but his words stay steady. “And we’re not technically official,” Jay snickers, shooting you a pointed look while you laugh, the nervousness in your expression obvious and you could feel the lump in your throat growing. “But we’ve been doing, whatever this is, for a year. It’s been you for me from the start, and I think with me finally pursuing you in the way I should’ve a long time ago allowed for clarity,”

Your vision grew blurry, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes that mirrored Jay’s. The confession was vulnerable, you felt shy and entirely too nervous to function but the warmth that spread in your stomach let you know that the inkling of fear was a good thing.

“I’m not expecting you to say it back,” Jay says quickly, a deep breath leaving his lips as if it were out of relief. His hand reaches up, fingertips grazing against your skin and pushing away the strands of hair that fell into your gaze. “Trust me—I’ve been thinking about it. A lot,” He admits, you letting out a watery laugh as he smiles. “It popped in my head one day, it felt dumb at first. But since then every time we were together, every time I thought about you, every time we said goodnight it was like a reflex, it feels right,”

You were at a loss for words, staring back at Jay with the start of tears beginning to dance down your cheeks. It was overwhelming, and you’d be sure to look back on it one day and laugh at the fact that your first ‘I love you’ came after a rendezvous in the car on New Years but for now, it was perfect.

“Who knew Mr. Bad Reputation could be such a softie, crying as he confessed his undying love for me?” You giggle, allowing for Jay to brush away your tears with the pads of his thumb. He rolls his eyes, wiping away the stray few that managed to escape the corners of his own but he stared back at you with the same fondness. “You love me, Park Jongseong?”

“I love you, Lee Y/N,” He confirms, the words soft but clear. You couldn’t help the smile that fell on your features, leaning forward to place a long, lingering kiss to his lips that you felt Jay grin against.

“I guess I love you too,” You tease, words mumbled against his skin and Jay snickers, arms wrapped around you keeping you close. Your hands tangled in his messy hair, basking in the warmth between you with small, innocent kisses shared between you.

A ping echoed simultaneously from your phones. The brightness from the screens lit up the dim car, both your eyes falling to Jay’s phone which was still placed beside him, a new message from the shared group chat between your friends the cause. But you paused, noting the time displayed at the top of the screen. Jay, seemingly reading your mind, sent you a heart stopping grin.

“Happy New Year, Jjong,”

“To many more nights like this, pretty girl,”

[boyfhee]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ JUST 🥢 MARRIED

爱,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀⠀𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗒𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, “𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽.”

𝟭𝟴𝟵𝟬─────newlyweds husband enhypen ! wife reader ， cuteness fluff ✶ mentions of kids, kissing, skinship ꕀ 𝑉𝑂𝐺𝑈𝐸 ｡

HEESEUNG wakes up to the light pouring inside the room through the white curtains. a groan, followed by a stretch, he turns over and finds himself melting at the sight of you, his girlfriend— wife.

he lives through every moment of the wedding again— the vows, smiles, how pretty you looked, the kiss— and he can barely hold himself back from pressing his lips on your skin, planting tender kisses on your arm, shoulder, cheek, and then feeling like the luckiest man alive to start every morning waking up next to you for the rest of his life.

you stir slightly with a soft groan, hand automatically reaching out to his face as you press a drowsy peck on his lips. a quiet ‘morning’ rolls off your tongue and heeseung kisses your forehead. “sleep a little longer, angel. it’s still very early,”

JONGSEONG cannot stop kissing you ever since you two got married— two days ago, by the way— and he is having the time of his life. his hands are always reaching out to you, pulling you towards him with a fond smile.

your day starts with kisses peppered all over your face, a nice breakfast in bed cooked by your dear husband, he kisses you again as you eat. he washes your hair, kissing your forehead in between. after shower skincare— another kiss, all the way down from your neck to shoulder.

he needs you on the counter while he cooks so he can kiss you, and he kisses you during cuddles and naps, in the evening when you both share a warm tea, before dinner when he cannot believe that this is a reality.

his lips are on you again at night, this time leading to something more intimate but just as soft and tender; and the next morning—he wakes you up with a kiss again.

JAEYUN watches the wedding photos everyday— how could he not, you look beautiful. it’s everything he has ever dreamed of.

there’s one polaroid of you both eating the cake that’s on the fridge, a calendar where he marks all the anniversaries— one week, fifteen days, one month, hundred days, and more to come.

his fingers are always intertwined with yours, thumb caressing above your ring with a touch ever so tender. he always kisses your hand just above the wedding ring and he is always smiling at the sight of both your rings when his hand is in yours.

he is already talking about kids— “i’ll be doomed if they look like you. they’ll have me wrapped around their tiny fingers,” and it aches your heart in the best way.

you can catch him smiling at the sight of your toothbrushes kept together, or your matching mugs, or your skincare right next to his, your heels next to his shoes, and of course, you next to him.

SUNGHOON is proud, showing you off at any chance he gets. his hands are always on you, waist, back, thigh, anywhere.

he calls you ‘my wife’ like it’s your name. there’s a dreamy look on his face when you do his tie before he goes to work and he brags about it to all his coworkers. “my wife did it, it’s her favourite,”

you make him a warm lunch packed nicely in a bento and melts, refusing to sharing it with anyone. “my wife is the best cook,” he calls you from work because he misses your voice, taking washroom breaks to text you or call you— anything to see your face. he gets to the meeting late, rubbing his neck. “sorry, i was talking to my wife,”

and on days he’s sitting with stack of files on his desk, he skips lunch to finish up quickly, turning his friends down when they ask him for a drink. “my wife must be waiting,”

SUNOO is the happiest he has ever been, smiling to himself about the fact that you are now his wife. he has your picture as his wallpaper and looks at it lovingly when you’re not around.

he likes laughing with you, even if it’s when you both are standing next to each other and brushing your teeth. the house is filled with gifts he brings every single day— flowers, trinkets, pendants, matching mugs, couple snow globe— you name it.

he sets the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier so he can cuddle you before getting up for work, he sends you pictures of things that remind him of you, he absolutely wouldn’t go anywhere without a goodbye kiss, even if it’s to the nearby store.

he doesn’t shy away from being affectionate in public and takes pride in being the ‘cutest couple’ as proclaimed by the old ladies in he street.

JUNGWON likes having you in his space. you have always been here, it just feels more intimate now. he likes not having to ask you if you can come over anymore.

his face turns red when he sees you going around the house in his shirt, or when you insist on watching him cook while he is clearly struggling. his mind short circuits when you both bath together for the first time— it’s the most peaceful thing ever, but his heart keeps beating loudly.

he sees you swaying to the music in the kitchen at night and ends up joining, always, and now it’s a routine to waltz while the dinner is cooking.

grocery shopping with you is like a dream come true, he pushes the cart while you add the items, and he secretly adds the cookies you like. he ends up calling himself your boyfriend sometimes and then blushes at his own words, feeling a wave of embarassment when you correct him with a laugh.

he is new to his husband thing, but jungwon is trying his best.

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