addictedtohobi

[addictedtohobi]

i can’t stop thinking about prince!jake and reader!palace maid, imagine this, he’s been chasing you, wanting you, and you haven’t returned any of his affections and then he hears a rumor.

MDNI

════════════════════════════

The sun had not yet warmed the stone of the western wing when word reached him.

A murmured conversation between two court musicians, half-heard beyond an archway. A whisper among the kitchen girls. A passing comment from his steward—Did you hear? The farmer’s son from the north sent word to the palace. Asked for her hand.

And something in Prince Jaeyun snapped.

The morning room was too bright when you were summoned. White marble walls dappled with early light. The fire had not yet been lit, but still the room was warm—with his fury.

He stood with his back to you, fingers curled around the stem of a goblet filled with wine he hadn’t touched. He didn’t look at you when you entered. Not at first.

“Is that it?” His voice was calm, low, venomous in its restraint. “Is that the reason for your stubbornness? The farmer?”

You froze where you stood, linen skirts brushing softly against the floor.

He turned then, slowly, and the fire in his eyes nearly made you stumble. “Some calloused-handed, dirt-covered fool, offering you a piglet and a straw roof? Is that the life you dream of?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already advancing—measured, deliberate.

“To marry a farmer,” he scoffed, as if the word tasted foul. “To birth a dozen squalling children in a cottage no bigger than this chamber’s hearth? To scrub floors with swollen ankles and a spine bent from work? Is that what you think you deserve?”

“N-no, Your Highness,” you said, voice trembling like a frayed string. “I never agreed to any proposal. I never wished for it.”

He paused then, eyes narrowing. “No?”

You shook your head. “I do not wish to marry at all.”

The room stilled. Even the birds outside seemed to fall silent.

“Why?” he asked, but it was not curiosity. It was command. A demand.

Your throat tightened. You looked down, not from shame, but from the weight of a truth you had never spoken aloud. “Because with marriage comes children, and mouths I cannot feed. My mother—she nearly died keeping me alive. I watched her starve for me. Bleed for me. That is not a life I would wish to pass on.”

His brows twitched, but you continued, the words tumbling now.

“I would rather remain a maid in this palace than bring a child into the world only to suffer. I do not—” Your voice cracked. “I do not return your affections not out of pride, Your Highness. But because I fear you would…sully your name…with someone like me.”

His eyes were on you now—piercing, unreadable.

“Sully my name?” he echoed, voice like struck glass. “Do you truly think me so shallow?”

Your eyes welled, but you blinked them away. “I am not like the other girls you summon. Nor graceful. I cannot dance. I eat what I’m given, and I am not built like the fine ladies in your court. I am not—”

“You are not what?” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low and furious. “Not pretty? Not worthy? You think I’d take offense to your softness? To the swell of your hips? To the thighs you hide beneath those heavy skirts?”

You gasped. He was close now. Too close. His breath hitched at the rise and fall of your chest.

“You think I do not notice,” he murmured. “The way your dress clings when you’ve hurried. The way your steps falter when I say your name. You say you do not wish to bear children, and yet—”

His eyes fell to your legs.

“—and yet you clench your thighs when I speak of it.”

Your lips parted, scandalized, ashamed—and yet your body betrayed you.

He saw it.

He savored it.

“Oh,” he whispered, his voice like a sin confessed at dusk. “So that’s it. It’s not the farmer. Nor the fear. It’s me. You dream of being full with my babes. My heirs. Of lying on silken sheets while I worship you from beneath.”

You shook your head, but the color in your cheeks bloomed like a scarlet rose.

“Do not lie, little dove,” he breathed. “You’d carry my seed proudly if I asked it of you. Would you not?”

You opened your mouth to say no. To insist. But the sound died in your throat.

He smiled—not smugly, not cruelly, but with the expression of a man who has finally cracked the code of the only puzzle that ever defied him.

“I would see you swelled with my line,” he murmured. “Not out of duty. But because the sight of you—like this, trembling and warm—has ruined me. I will not stop. Not now.”

You were trembling, heart racing, lips trembling with unshed tears—but not fear. Something deeper. Something dangerous.

“Say it,” he whispered, eyes blazing. “Say you want to carry my heirs.”

════════════════════════════

• a/n: not the old timey breeding kink 😭 i have so many scene ideas with this concept but not the full premise 🤧

[addictedtohobi]

toxic reader and obsessed jungwon?

love me some toxic dramaaaa

MDNI

════════════════════════════

"Get out, Jungwon." Your voice is high, breathless with fury. Your apartment door is wide open behind him, but he makes no move to walk through it. He just blinks, calm as ever. "Baby, you're overreacting—"

"Don't call me that!" You shove at his chest again, harder this time, fists balled like you want to hurt him. "You think I'm stupid? You think I didn't hear about it? She touched you, didn't she?!"

Jungwon sighs. Not annoyed—never with you—but tired. He grabs your wrists gently, just enough to keep you from throwing another hit. "She bumped into me in a parking lot."

But you're already spiraling. "You could've told her to fuck off. You could've told me first. You chose not to."

He leans in, voice low and too soft for the tension in the room. "Because I didn't want you to get upset like this."

Your lip trembles, not out of sadness, but rage. "You should've thought about that before letting her touch you."

He catches your wrists again gently, because he's done this before. "I bumped into her," he says quietly. "She said hi. That's it."

"I don't care." Your voice lowers into something far more dangerous. "I don't fucking care what happened. You should've walked the other way."

Silence. He doesn't defend himself, but he doesn’t look away either. he just watches you as you pant in the silence, chest heaving, fury still fizzing under your skin.

"You make everything so hard," you whisper, venom curling between your teeth.

And for the first time in the whole argument, he finally speaks with a little weight behind his voice. "You think it's easy for me?" he says, calm but not soft. "Being in love with someone who punishes me for things I didn't even do?"

You blink. "What did you just say?"

His jaw tics, as if he regrets saying it. But he doesn't take it back.

You let out a bitter laugh, already stepping toward the door. "You always act like you're the quiet one, like you're the stable one, but look at you—saying shit like that in the middle of a fight just to make me feel worse."

He doesn't argue. Just steps through the open door, movements slow and unwilling.

But before you can slam it shut, "I'll come back in a few hours," he says, looking at you dead-on. "So you can calm down."

You grip the doorknob so tightly your knuckles ache. "I'm not going to open the door for you," you bite.

He doesn't react, only nods once. Like he clearly knows better.

Then he turns and walks away. And you lock the door.

Still, you lean your back against it, heart racing like he's still standing on the other side.

You hate that he never yells back, that he always leaves so quietly, you even hate how calm he is. And worst of all—you hate that you don't know what you'll do when he comes back.

True to your word you don't open the door when he knocks hours later. You don't say a word when he calls your name—soft, patient, like he didn’t leave your apartment after you shoved him out hours ago. Like you didn't scream yourself hoarse telling him to leave you the fuck alone.

And when do you open the door? He's there. Back against the wall, arms crossed, hood drawn low, patiently waiting.

His eyes rake down your body, slow and deliberate, taking in your revealing outfit. He doesn't say anything at first. Just breathes in, exhales like he's tired, or genuinely trying not to lose it. "Where are you going?" he asks finally, voice low.

You raise an eyebrow, tug your purse higher up your shoulder. "Out."

"Wearing that?"

You smirk. "Don't worry about it."

He steps forward. "I am worried."

"Not your business," you snap. "Now move."

You move to brush past him but his hand shoots out wrapping around your waist, and before you can react, he's pushing you back into the apartment and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

His voice is tight now, raw. "Why do you do this to me?"

You glare at him. "Let go."

But he doesn't. His hand stays where it is on your waist like it belongs there. "You know how much I love you, why do you keep doing this to me?" he continues, and it almost sounds like a confession. A surrender.

You're not sure who moves first. Maybe it's both of you at once, pulled together like magnets, desperate and trembling, foreheads pressed together and breathing the same shaky air. His hands slide up your bare waist, under the fabric, over your ribs. Your hands fist in his hoodie like you'll fall apart without him.

You don't even make it to the bedroom and you barely have time to gasp before he's pressing you up against the door, hands everywhere—hot, frantic, tearing the straps of your dress down your shoulders. His mouth is locked on your neck, teeth scraping over skin like he wants to mark you, ruin you, remind you you're his.

"You wore this to piss me off, huh?" His voice is low, ragged, his gaze dropping to the dangerously short hem of your dress. "Is this supposed to punish me?"

You don't answer, but your lashes flutter when he grabs your chin and tilts your face up, thumb brushing your lower lip. "You don't talk to me for a full day. You lock me out. And now you're going out dressed like this?" His head dips, lips ghosting over your jaw. "What, so someone else can look at you?"

You flinch, breath catching, your whole act slipping the second his mouth touches your skin again. All it takes is one brush of his lips at your throat, and your heart stutters. He carries you to the couch, tosses off his hoodie and shirt with one hand, the veins in his arms flexing, then grabs your ankle and drags you down, eyes dark.

And before you can say anything else, he’s shifting your lacy thong to the side and rubbing his thick cock head on your folds, making you whine out. And before you know it he’s pushing his cock inside you.

Your scream rips out of your throat, thighs flinching as he folds you in half, knees shoved high by your shoulders, his body pressed down hard against yours, thick and relentless. Your nails claw at his back, your heels dig into his spine. He's deep. Too deep. You feel split open around him and completely full.

Every stroke drags a sob out of your chest.

"Too much?" he pants, watching your face but pushing in again anyway.

You shake your head, tearful. "Don't stop."

"You think I won't fuck this attitude out of you?" he mutters, thrusting deeper. You barely get a word out before he pushes into you in one long, slow stroke that has your eyes rolling back. "Oh my god—" you sob, hands flying to his biceps. "Jungwon—"

"You always do this," he grits out, hips moving, deep and deliberate. "Push me away. Test how far I'll go."

He's so deep in your clenching cunt it hurts. So deep you almost can't breathe. You're folded beneath him, pinned and helpless, every thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs, your head spinning from the rhythm of it, from the rawness of him.

He leans in close, forehead pressing to yours. "I still come back," he whispers. "No matter what."

Tears blur your vision. You're gasping now, every moan broken. Every whimper wrecked. And somewhere between the way he fills you and the away he says it all—you can't hold back anymore.

His thrusts get rougher, his jaw clenched tight like he's trying not to lose control. Your hands clutch at his hair, your legs trembling. You feel yourself getting close and your voice breaks, desperate. "You love me?" you gasp, eyes searching his.

He lets out a groan, hips snapping harder into yours. "Yes. Fuck, yes. I love you."

"Say it again," you beg, whimpering now.

"I love you," he grits out. "I fucking love you—"

Your head falls back, lips parted. "Am I your baby?"

His hands tighten on the inside of your knees where he holds you down, dragging you down onto every thrust. "You are. You're my baby. My fucking baby."

You shatter around him, sobbing, nails raking down his back. Your whole body clenches as you cry out his name, and he holds you through it, still moving, still fucking into you like the thought of stopping has him falling apart already.

"I love you so much," he whispers against your throat as you come down, breath ragged. "So much I can't fucking breathe without you."

And then you fell his body going tense, his hips jerking one last time as he spills inside you with a broken moan. He doesn't pull out, not one bit.

He breathes, shaky, heavy and still buried deep inside you. Holding your face as if he thinks you're breakable.

Still whispering, over and over, like a prayer, "I love you, I love you—fuck—I love you—"

When he slumps forward, still inside, his arms cage you in, and in the stillness that follows, with your heart still racing and your body aching in the best way, you stare up at him.

He's breathless, sweaty and completely wrecked, looking at you like you're the only thing that matters to him.

Not the dress. Not the fight. Not the toxic, messed-up way you hurt him when you get scared. Just you.

The real you.

The moment it hits you and it’s not like a soft thought, but like a truth you've been avoiding all along, how he never leaves you regardless of everything you've done to him, All the shit you've put him through.

Throwing things at him when you're angry. Blocking numbers in his phone without asking. Cursing out his friends just because you felt like it. You've even snooped through his stuff. Stalked his followers. Slammed doors in his face just to make a point. You've gone out in revenge dresses, posted things to rile him up, picked fights over imagined slights just so he'd prove he still wanted you.

No one will ever love you the way Jungwon does. Not despite the chaos you bring, but because he knows how to weather your storms.

Because he's made a home in them, he chooses to stay, even when it's hard. Even when it hurts.

════════════════════════════

• a/n: honestly he should leave her fr 😭

[addictedtohobi]

really controlling and possessive bf jay and y/n cant even fight him cause he takes care and comforts her the best😛😛

honestly i need this icl

MDNI

════════════════════════════

Your life started feeling less like your own and more like something curated by him a long time ago, polished and planned down to the last detail. Jay's hand is in everything. The apartment you live in, the clothes hanging in your closet, the yoga mat rolled neatly by the window—all filtered through his preferences. And he never hides it. He doesn't need to.

He buys you a car, a matte black one you never would've picked yourself, and had it delivered with a big ivory bow on top. Every Sunday, he takes it to get detailed himself, always filling the tank and slipping a couple hundred-dollar bills into the middle console. "For when I'm not around," he says like that ever happens.

You try to buy something small one afternoon—just a purse you thought was cute—and he spots it the moment you walk in the door. "That's ugly," he says flatly, already pulling out his phone to process the return. "I would've bought you something prettier if you told me you wanted a new one." And he means it. He already has the sales associate on the phone before you can argue.

Groceries? He's got someone delivering them. Fitness? You've got three classes a week—a private pilates class, spin, barre—prepaid months in advance. All you have to do is show up. He even checks your step count at the end of the day, not because he doesn't trust you, but because he cares. At least, that's what he says, murmuring it against your hair while you sit curled into him on the couch.

"Did you eat today?" You nod.

"What'd you have?"

"Um... a smoothie?" He raises a brow. "That's not food, baby."

You call him Jongie and that’s the only time he softens instantly, brushing your cheek with his thumb and kissing your jaw with a sigh. And no matter how controlling he gets, you can't ever seem to bring yourself to push back—because he's always right, always ready to comfort you, always doing everything in your best interest.

And when you do sulk, refusing to look at him because he replaced all your snacks with nutritionist-approved alternatives again, he just picks you up, sets you on the kitchen counter, kisses your knee, and says, "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll get it for you. But you're still eating clean first."

Jay doesn't just take care of you—he cultivates you. From the supplements he drops into your palm every morning to the fruit and water-rich dinners he insists on making himself "You're glowing, baby. That's me, you know that, right?", he treats you like something that belongs on display. Beautiful. Cared for. His.

And he proves it every time he pulls you into the sheets like it's part of some routine only he gets to orchestrate.

Tonight's no different.

The lights are dimmed low, music from his playlist murmuring through hidden speakers, something warm and slow. He moves you like he's practiced it and maybe he has. He spreads you open over those clean white sheets, kissing down your stomach, murmuring every now and then how soft you feel, how good you smell, how your skin tastes like strawberries and citrus because he planned for it to.

"See?" he murmurs between your legs, voice low and reverent as he presses his tongue against you like he's savoring a wine he aged himself. "Told you it'd be worth it. You taste so fucking good, baby—been feeding you right, haven't I?"

You whimper something incoherent, thighs twitching against his shoulders, but he just laughs quietly, gripping your hips harder to hold you still. "What? Can't speak now? I keep you so well-fed, so taken care of, and this is what I get? A little moan?"

And then he does it again. Deeper. Slower. Licking into you like he's dragging the flavor from a ripe piece of fruit, like you're something he grew, plucked, and peeled just for this.

It's intimate. Indulgent. Almost scary, how completely his you feel.

After, he's slow to move, wiping you clean with a warm cloth like always, murmuring praise against your skin while you tremble under the weight of his care. And then, like clockwork, he tucks you into his chest, kisses your hair, and pulls your favorite blanket over both of you.

"You need water," he says softly, thumb brushing your jaw. "That body's mine—I'm not letting it run low on anything."

You nod, still hazy, and he presses another kiss to your forehead, already reaching over to grab the bottle he placed by the bed earlier.

It's always there. Everything you need—before you even know you'll need it. Because Jay doesn't just love you. He maintains you. Like he'd fall apart if you ever stopped letting him.

His hand tightens a little. "You are my favorite thing I've ever taken care of."

And he means it. He handles every piece of your life because no one else does it right. He books your appointments—your facials, your blowouts, your waxes.

He gives you everything. So the moment someone makes you cry, he doesn't just get angry. He gets offended.

Because how dare anyone break something he's worked so hard to keep whole?

You weren't trying to test him. Not really. But he'd been so busy lately, all wrapped up in meetings and deadlines and reschedules, and you were starting to feel like a side piece in your own relationship.

So when that friend—the one you know he hates—invited you out for dinner, you said yes. You didn't tell him. You didn't post. You just went.

You even turned off your location. But then you get worried when he doesn’t text or call

You come home to low lights and silence. Jay's on the couch, in all black, one arm stretched across the backrest and a glass of neat whiskey in his hand. The fireplace is on. The air feels wrong.

"Hey," you start softly, stepping out of your shoes.

"Turn around." You freeze.

"Phone," he says. Still quiet. Still calm. "Now."

You hesitate for a second too long, and his eyes lift to meet yours. They don't flicker or even blink.

"You can tell me where you were, or I can find out."

And you know he will so you hand it over. He doesn't scroll—he taps. Opens your texts, your maps history, your hidden album. He already knows, he just wants to see.

When he finally sets your phone down, he doesn't speak. Just pats the cushion beside him. You sit slowly, heartbeat in your throat. Jay doesn't look at you. He just tips his glass and says, "You think I do all this for fun?"

Your brows furrow. "All what—?"

"This." He gestures vaguely. "Pay your bills. Buy your food. Dress you. Keep track of you. Do you think I do that because it's easy?"

"I didn't think—"

"No," he cuts in, soft but sharp. "You didn't."

And then he finally turns to face you. His voice drops even lower. "You turned off your location for someone I told you not to see. After everything I do to keep you safe. After every time I warned you."

He exhales through his nose, slow and furious. "I treat you like something precious, and you act like you're disposable."

You flinch..

"Look at me," he says. You do. His voice softens a little—but only in volume. "I take care of everything so you don't have to think about this world the way I do. I watch for every little danger, every little manipulation, so you don't have to. That's what I do. And all I ask—all I fucking ask—is that you let me."

Silence.

He slides his hand over your thigh. Warm and heavy. "I know you think it's too much sometimes. I know you think you're still independent. But baby, that ended a long time ago." You blink up at him, lips parting.

"You belong to me. All of you. Even your time. Even your disobedience."

His thumb presses just above your knee, right where your dress ends. "I'm not mad you went," he murmurs. "I'm mad you lied."

You feel your throat tighten. "I won't punish you," he adds. "You're already punishing yourself. I can see it all over you."

You nod. You are. You hate the ache in his voice.

He softens just enough to let you fold into him, burying your face in his chest like you always do.

But then—he adds, "She won't be part of your life anymore. You know that, right?”

It's not a question. He rubs your back, gentle again. Like nothing even happened. Like he didn't just remind you of how deep his hold really goes.

He loves you. Intensely. But that love comes with weight.

So when your private pilates instructor gives you a rare, tight smile at the end of today's session and says,

"He'll be pleased,"

Your heart soars.

Because you need him to be.

════════════════════════════

• a/n: guys i want this for MYSELF

[addictedtohobi]

I love the subtle..well maybe not so subtle manipulation. Well, I think Jay knows but doesn't care. This was very, very good. I like the way you described the sweetness of JW like honey left out too long. Like syrupy sweet. Looks can be deceiving, and using what people want/like/see/need against them is messed up, but it's delicious to read.

an upgraded sequel to this

nsfw warnings: explicit smut, manipulation/deception, power imbalance, voyeurism, dubcon themes, toxic dynamics, dark undertones

════════════════════════════

"Dude stop p-please!" "Jungwon stop!" Jay's hands scramble for purchase, where he's stood with Jungwon's lips wrapped around his now overstimulated cock, still sucking. He's tugging at Jungwon's hair to get him off but he just gets his hands swatted away. It's not until Jay lets out the most pathetic whimper that Jungwon shoves Jay back at his hips with so much strength it forces Jay to fall back on his ass.

"God. You're always so whiny, Jay" Jungwon says looking down at the boy he knows can't fight back against him.

There's something rotting sweet beneath the way Jungwon smiles down at him. It's also in the way he speaks, almost soft, like honey left out too long. Like something that should've gone bad ages ago but didn't. People never really look close enough. They only see the dimples and the quiet eyes. They never ask why Jay follows Jungwon like a shadow. Why he doesn't blink unless Jungwon does first.

"You text her?" Jay asks, slowly shifting across the floor to sit at the foot of the bed, chewing at the skin around his fingers.

"You text her more than I do at this point," Jungwon replies, tapping the corner of his phone to his chin. "She still thinks it's me."

"Why? You like her, Jay?"

Jay grins. "I like the way she likes it when I'm nice."

Jungwon laughs, low and mean under his breath. "Nobody likes you when you're nice. They just get confused." There's no bite in the insult. Jay likes it. He always has. He's long stopped trying to be anything else.

"You told her to come tonight?" Jay asks, voice quieter.

Jungwon's still grinning, but there's something behind his eyes now. Something cold. Something hungry.

"She does everything I tell her to."

There's a quiet between them that isn't really silence.

It's filled with all the things they never say, the late nights in Jay's car, the way Jungwon's fingers brush his when they pass a lighter, the fact that Jay has never once looked at a girl the way he looks at him.

And Jungwon knows.

That's the worst part. He knows, and he uses it. The way he uses everything.

"She really thinks you like her," Jay mutters, voice low, as he watches Jungwon from over his shoulder. The light from Jungwon's phone glows cold between them.

"She likes feeling liked," Jungwon replies easily. "She's like a little sponge. Say something sweet and she soaks it up."

Jay frowns faintly. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you actually like her?"

Jungwon finally looks up. His expression is unreadable at first, until his lips curl into that same smile he always gives you, just sharper now. Meaner.

"You jealous, Jay?"

Jay doesn't answer. Not fast enough, anyway.

"God," Jungwon exhales a laugh, leaning back against the headboard. "You're so fucking loyal. I could say I wanted to date her, marry her, and you'd still let me use your bed to do it."

"That's not—"

"You don't even care about her," Jungwon cuts in, amused. "You just don't like when I pretend to."

Silence.

Jungwon tosses his phone to the mattress and turns his head, voice gone quiet. "She's boring, Jay. Stupid. But she'll look so good when she begs, I know it."

Jay flinches, only a little,almost like the words landed somewhere deeper than they should've.

But then he smiles, in fact he can't help the grin that spreads across his face cause he knows you're gonna be here soon.

And if you weren't so fucking stupid the muted glow of Jungwon’s TV wouldn't be casting shifting shadows across your face right now. Maybe if you were a little smarter, more observant you wouldn't be in his room right now, taking in the faint scent of his cologne and something softer—vanilla from the candle flickering on his desk. You sit cross-legged on his bed, fingers absently tugging at the edge of your sweater, heart fluttering with an anxious rhythm you can't quite quiet.

Jungwon's eyes catch every subtle movement—the quick glance away, the nervous flutter of your lashes, the way you bite your lip when you think no one's watching. There's something tender in his gaze, like he's quietly unraveling all the things you aren't saying, and it makes your throat tighten.

"Hey," he says, his voice low, measured, careful not to break the fragile quiet between you. "You're really quiet. Are you nervous?"

You swallow, the lump in your throat stubborn and heavy. You want to say it's nothing, just nerves, just the weirdness of being alone with him in this small space. But the truth feels too raw. "I'm just... not used to this," you whisper, cheeks burning.

Jungwon shifts closer, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. The air between you feels thick—charged with all the words and feelings you haven't dared to say yet. His hand moves with deliberate gentleness, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, warm against your skin.

"You don't have to be nervous," he murmurs, voice soft but insistent, like a promise you just have to believe.

Your breath catches, and your eyes meet his, so close, you can see the quiet storm behind them. You want to lean in, to close the distance, but your heart pounds like it might burst. Instead, you bite your lip, barely nodding.

"Can I kiss you?" His question is a whisper, the kind that feels like a secret offered only to you.

You nod again, this time a little more sure, and when his lips finally meet yours, it's tentative. Soft. Careful. Like he's testing the water, waiting for your consent with every breath.

Then, almost imperceptibly, his mouth tightens around your lower lip, just a slight bite. The pressure is enough to surprise you, sharp and possessive, but it doesn't hurt. Instead, it sends a jolt through your whole body, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.

You part your mouth, giving him space, and suddenly the kiss deepens, hungry and urgent in a way that feels both thrilling and terrifying. His hands move up, resting lightly on your hips, grounding you, holding you steady.

When he pulls away, his voice is rougher, edged with something you hadn't expected. "Can I... touch you? Like, more?" His words tumble out, almost awkward in a way that would seem forced if the wetness pooling in your panties hasn't dazing you. His eyes look almost bored while searching yours for the answer.

You hesitate. The nervousness creeps back, tangled with excitement and confusion. But something about the way he's looking at you, like he knows you know if you say no he might just find someone else to touch more, and that makes you say yes.

Slowly, you nod. Your brain can't even comprehend how quickly he takes off your shorts, how quickly he's playing with your clit over your panties.

He moves behind you, and your back presses against the warmth of his chest. His hands slide around you, fingers spreading your legs gently apart, positioning you so you face the door. There's something about the way he moves that has your questions dying in the back of your throat like why am I facing the door? Is the door locked? What if someone comes in?

The weight of his body feels heavy but safe, and your questions are never answered. "Shh. It's okay." His voice is a soft murmur, like a shield against the world outside this room.

His fingers trace delicate lines over your skin, exploring with a careful tenderness that makes your breath hitch. The sensation is new and overwhelming, a strange mixture of vulnerability and comfort.

He leans closer, whispering sweet things—how beautiful you are, how perfect this moment feels, how much he wants to cherish you.

You close your eyes and let yourself get lost in the sensation, the warmth of his breath, the gentle weight of his hands and fingers when he pushes your soaked panties to the side. "Why are you so wet?" "Only from a kiss?" There's an almost taunting in his voice, "J—Jungwo—" Your brain can't even begin to form a coherent thought, not with the way he's touching you—rubbing circles into your clit like he knows your body, like he's done this before.

He's slow. So slow. One finger first, gentle and deliberate, like he's letting you adjust, curling only when your hips jerk up. You don't even know he's looking down at you like he's studying scripture, listening for every gasp, every tiny moan that falls from your lips.

You're panting now, whimpering his name, your hand on his thigh trying not to writhe your body too much, but chasing every movement of his hand like you need it.

Suddenly, his voice cuts through the air—unexpected and sharp, a stark contrast to the soft way he's been talking to you "Does she look pretty spread out like this for me?"

Your eyes snap open, heart skipping, as your eyes immediately land on Jay's, standing there in the doorway. Shock freezes you in place. You weren't expecting him, and suddenly, the intimacy feels charged with a new, complex energy. "It's okay, baby". Jungwon continues, "Jay likes you. You'll let him watch, right?" "Let him taste?"

Jay doesn't say anything else, doesn't answer Jungwon's earlier question, he just watches silently.

Jungwon, still holding you, takes the fingers he's been teasing in your cunt, slowly pulls them from you, and brings it to his mouth, tasting it with a deliberate, slow suck.

Turning his gaze to Jay, "She tastes so sweet, Jay" he says, voice a sultry kind you'd never heard before, he continues with it asking lowly, "Do you want to taste her too?"

Jay remains silent, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes—a quiet obedience.

Jungwon's voice drops to a whisper meant only for you, thick with both command and affection. "Do you want Jay to taste you?" He asks, dipping a finger back inside you, hooking it up against that spot that has you seeing stars. "Ah—Jun—", "That's it, pretty girl." He coaxes and you don't even notice Jay is closer now, you only notice when Jungwon's finger slips out again.

Jungwon's control is clear but not cruel, there's a strange devotion in how Jay leans forward, his lips closing gently over Jungwon's fingers, savoring the taste Jungwon has offered him instead of touching you directly. There's something reverent in the way Jay does it, it’s clearly not for your benefit, not even for his own, but for Jungwon's.

And you're watching. Breath held.

You shiver at the sight—a mix of awe and submission, the unspoken bond between the two of them filling the room with an intimate, complex energy.

Jungwon's voice drops to a whisper, "You're taking this well. You know what happens next, don't you?"

You nod again, caught in the slow burn of this moment, suspended between hesitation and desire, unsure but wanting more.

Your breath catches, cheeks flushing with a heat that's part embarrassment, part arousal. Jungwon's touch is grounding, safe even as the situation grows more intense. "You wanna fuck her for me, Jay?"

You look to Jay, silently waiting for his reaction, a part of you waiting for validation from the boy who has bullied you for months, and when he gives a small, almost imperceptible nod—your heart clenches.

The room thickens with unspoken promises, the slow burn of trust and desire weaving tighter around you.

"Show her how big your cock is, baby." Jungwon whispers, a grin on his face. If you weren't so high on the energy in the room, you'd be asking so many questions—why is Jay so obedient? Are they dating? Why is Jay's dick so big? Why is it so hard? Is he turned on by this?

The gasp that escapes your mouth at the sight of him is enough for them, enough for Jungwon to chuckle, "Big, right? Think you can take him for me?" Your mouth just remains open, you don't even care that you're staring now.

"You've been fucked before, hm?" You nod, but that just earns you a sharp slap against your soaked folds, "Ah!" "Use your fucking words" Jungwon snaps, a slight aggression in his voice now, "Ye—Yes!"

"Good, so you can take Jay?" You know better than to nod now so you answer instead, using your words, "I—Y—Yes I can take him."

"You heard her, Jay. Come fuck her. I know you want to." There's that wordless obedience again, Jay is moving before you can even process Jungwon's words.

Jungwon's grip tightens subtly on your waist. "Be good for us" he says, his tone calmer but now edged with more command. Your lip is caught between your teeth, head spinning. Jungwon's breath ghosts against your ear as he hums low in approval.

Jay moves forward slightly, not touching yet, but closer. His hands twitch at his sides like he's waiting for the signal.

And still, you're aware of everything, the pressure of Jungwon behind you, the hunger in Jay's stare, your own heart thudding in your chest so hard you think they can hear it.

Then Jay speaks, “Open your mouth.” And a part of you listen so instinctually.

He holds Jungwon’s gaze as he let spit fall onto your tongue, slow and deliberate, making you moan softly, your thighs squeezing together, eyes fluttering shut as you swallowed like it was second nature. “Such a good little doll.” Jungwon said, clearly pleased with himself and the scene unfolding before him.

Jay groaned, nearly overwhelmed with the image of you and Jungwon beneath him, pliant and filthy and still so goddamn sweet. He can’t believe you’re going to let him fuck your sweet pussy, even after everything he’s done to you, you still want him? Jay can’t tell whether he’s in heaven or hell right now and maybe that’s what makes him so rough with you. Maybe that’s what makes him slam into you in one deep, punishing thrust that had your body arching off Jungwon’s, a cry slipping from your lips as he filled you completely. He thrusts so hard it moves you and moves Jungwon too.

“Easy, Jay.” “You don’t have to break her.” Jungwon says.

But there was still no hesitation in the way Jay moved, no sense of sympathy—just pure, pent-up frustration and possessive rage, wrapped up in moans and skin and heat.

“J—Jungwon, she’s so tight.” “I—Fuck!” “I can barely move. She’s squeezing me! Oh fuck!”

“Doll, why’re you squeezing Jay so tight? You like getting fucked like this?” You can barely speak but Jungwon is relentless, reaching in between your bodies to rub teasing circles over your clit, “Talk to me. Talk to us.”

You want to respond tell them you love it so much and you want to believe the tears from the pleasure pooling in your eyes are enough, but the smooth way Jungwon is switching between rubbing your sensitive clit and stroking Jay’s huge cock has you dizzy, so dizzy.

You can tell Jay’s body is moving on instinct now, completely lost in the moment, despite the fact that this clearly isn’t his first time. Still, you understand it. Especially as you take in the sight of him, shirtless for the first time, the parts of his toned body that had been hidden until now finally exposed when he took off his shirt.

There’s urgency in the way Jay kisses you, like his thoughts are racing too fast for him to keep up. His mouth is everywhere—eager, unrestrained, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, like he’s forgotten Jungwon behind you. It’s desperate and messy, far more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“W-Wonie, fuck—” Jay gasps, voice breaking as Jungwon’s sharp gaze pierces through him, overwhelming his senses. His rhythm quickens, hips snapping harder now. His mouth falls open, brows drawn tight as his eyes flutter shut.

You can’t look away from the way he forces his eyes open again just to watch himself slide in and out of you, your slick coating him with every thrust. But even more than that, you notice it—the way his moans aren’t meant for you, the one he’s buried inside of. They’re for Jungwon, Jay hasn’t even said your name once.

You’re so mesmerized by the sight of him unraveling that all you can think about is cumming for him, feeling him inside you as you both lose control. Desperate, you grab Jungwon’s hand that’s now tangled in Jay’s hair and guide it back down between your legs, against your cunt as Jay bullies his way in and out.

Jungwon seems to understand immediately, fingers returning to your clit in rough, relentless circles that have you on the verge of crying out from the overstimulation. It’s almost too much to take. You’ve never been this sensitive for anyone let alone two of them at once. And yet, here you are, coming apart between their bodies, slipping into the same kind of helpless, breathless surrender they’re drowning in.

It isn’t until you moan out, “Ah—Wonie! J-Jay’s so good,” that Jay falters. His hips stutter, and his eyes squeeze shut as a deep, frustrated groan escapes him.

“You hear that, Jay?” Jungwon murmurs, voice low and teasing. “She loves your cock.”

“Stop—” Jay grunts, thrusting into you harder, rough enough that your body jolts forward, pressing you up against Jungwon’s chest.

“Stop, I’m—” he tries again, breath ragged, trying to pull out before he finishes, to spill against your aching, empty cunt instead. But Jungwon’s hand presses firmly against his lower back, keeping him locked in place. “Inside,” he commands, voice firm and deliberate. “Cum inside her, Jongie.”

You reach up, gently holding Jay’s face so he can’t look away, and you see it—the way his pupils widen at the nickname, the words, the pressure of everything at once. You feel his cock twitch deep inside you, and then he’s gone—eyes rolling back, completely lost in the moment, so utterly beautiful in the way he falls apart.

You cling to him without thinking, pulling him close just to kiss him, like it’s the only thing your body knows to do. He kisses you back, desperate and dazed.

“There you go, Jongie,” Jungwon coos, fingers brushing Jay’s damp hair back as if he hadn’t just told him to lose every last bit of control.

Jay’s still panting against your mouth, arms trembling slightly where they hold you, body twitching with the last waves of his release. His forehead presses against yours for a moment, eyes glassy and faraway like he’s still somewhere between bliss and disbelief.

Then, Jungwon speaks again, low and calm, but with an unmistakable edge of command.

“Move.”

Jay barely blinks.

“Jungw—” he breathes, voice strained, hoarse, still buried inside you and clearly reluctant to leave.

“I said move,” Jungwon repeats, firmer this time. His hand slides along the back of Jay’s neck—not rough, but with just enough pressure to remind him who’s in control right now. “It’s my turn.”

You feel Jay tense, his jaw clenching as he slowly pulls out of you, cock still twitching from oversensitivity. You both wince at the emptiness, the slick mess between your thighs making you squirm against the sheets. Jay glances down at you—equal parts apologetic and possessive—before reluctantly backing away, chest still rising and falling sharply.

Jungwon shifts forward immediately, sliding between your legs like he’s been waiting with infinite patience for this exact moment. He doesn’t hesitate as one hand guides your hips closer, the other curls under your thigh to keep you open for him.

“You’re already so messy,” he murmurs, glancing down at your glistening folds, at Jay’s cum still dripping from you. “Perfect.”

You reach for him, but he leans in on his own, not for a kiss yet, but to whisper against your lips, “You’re gonna take me now, angel. Just like you took him. Can you do that for me?”

You nod before you can even think, eyes fluttering shut as his tip pushes against your entrance.

“Use her,” Jay mutters from behind Jungwon, voice wrecked, still catching his breath. “She’s so good for it.”

Jungwon smirks. “I’m gonna.”

And then he’s pushing into you, so slowly at first, deliberately. You cry out, the stretch sharp, more intense than before, your body already so sensitive it borders on unbearable. But it’s Jungwon and you think you might be painfully in love with him now.

“Good girl,” he whispers, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Now let me show you what it means to fall apart for me.”

════════════════════════════

• a/n: finally did something right. i hope you like it for real.

[addictedtohobi]

hear me out. obsessed psycho jake. just imagine him acting like the most affectionate and perfect boy ever and when no one is looking he is completely insane over you…. like deadass insane

i literally couldn’t resist oh gosh

MDNI

══════════════════════════

You love Jake so much it hurts sometimes.

He’s so perfect. The kind of boyfriend your friends tease you about like where did you even find him and can he teach a class or something? Your parents adore him. Strangers stop you in coffee shops to compliment the way he pulls out your chair or rests his hand on the small of your back when you walk through doors. He buys you flowers just because, walks on the street side of the sidewalk. He remembers the names of your professors and how you like your tea - hot, with just a little honey, no lemon and he always keeps it waiting for you after a long day.

When you cry, he cries. He hates seeing you hurt, he holds you like you’re made of porcelain and whispers things into your hair like I’ll fix it. I promise. And he does. Every time.

He remembers every detail you give him. That one movie you mentioned offhand in sophomore year? He finds a rare DVD copy and wraps it for you, no occasion. The stuffed animal you loved as a kid? He tracks it down on eBay. You joke sometimes that he knows you better than you know yourself and he just smiles, kisses your forehead, and says, “Of course I do.”

He’s attentive. Gentle and so thoughtful.

So you forgive the little things.

Like how he always knows where you are, even if you didn’t tell him. How he shows up outside your class just as you’re leaving, says he was “in the area.” How he texts within five minutes if you don’t answer. How he noticed when you started following someone new on Instagram and asked you about it with a soft smile and steady eye contact, like it didn’t mean anything. Like he wasn’t waiting to hear if your answer was the wrong one.

Sometimes, when you’re cuddling, his arms tighten just a little too much. Just for a second. You always chalk it up to passion. To love.

And when you ask him why he never takes his eyes off you, why he watches you like he’s studying you, memorizing you, he just says, voice quiet, “Because I need to know you. All of you. Always.”

It’s romantic. It’s flattering.

Until sometimes it’s not.

Until the night you come home late. Just about thirty minutes. Group project ran a little too long, someone wanted to get food, you didn’t think to tell him and he’s already waiting inside your apartment.

You blink. “How did you—?”

“I have a key, remember?” he says, voice sweet. “You gave it to me, baby.”

You did. You don’t remember when. But you must’ve.

He smiles. It’s soft. It’s… off.

“I was worried about you. You’re usually home by now.”

“I just—got caught up, that’s all. Sorry.”

He nods. Still smiling. Then steps forward.

And when he kisses you this time, it’s deeper. Slower. Not just affection, it’s something way heavier. Possessive.

You try to pull back, say something light, but he’s already tugging you closer, walking you backwards toward the bedroom.

“Jake—”

“You love me, right?”

You freeze.

“Of course I do.”

His eyes darken, lips brushing your jaw. “Then show me.”

The switch is so gradual you almost miss it.

He’s still smiling. Still murmuring sweet things as he undresses you, lays you back on the bed like you’re delicate but his hands are shaking.

He strips you bare slowly, reverently, kissing every new patch of exposed skin like it’s sacred.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Sometimes I think you’re not real. Like I made you up.”

You whisper his name, soft, breathy, and he groans like it hurts. His fingers tremble when they touch you, drag down your stomach, your thighs. He mouths at your chest, at your ribs, at your hips like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can feed him.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers against your skin. “I can’t. I’ll go fucking insane.”

“Jake, I’m not—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, wet and messy and deep. You feel it in your throat.

“I know you talk to other people,” he says suddenly, breath hot. “I know you smile at them. Let them near you. But you’re mine, baby. You understand that, right?”

His voice is sweet. But it’s shaking.

“I just need to hear it. Need you to say it.”

You nod, dazed, lips parted.

“I’m yours,” you say. “I’m only yours.”

His hands grip your thighs so tight and he groans again. Like you’ve given him something he can finally breathe in.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he says, lining himself up, dragging the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. “Hearing you say that.”

And when he pushes in, it’s slow. Deliberate. Deep.

You cry out, overwhelmed, not just from the stretch, but from how intimate it feels. He’s watching you the whole time. Breathing like he’s trying not to lose control.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take it, baby. Let me in.”

You can’t think. Can’t breathe. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to merge with you, like it’s not enough to be inside, he wants to stay there. Forever.

“You feel that?” he groans, grinding deep. “No one else gets to feel you like this. No one else even gets to look at you like this.”

He fucks you slow but hard, never pulling out too far, never letting you get used to it. His hands move everywhere, your hips, your throat, your cheek, like he needs to hold every part of you at once.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Jake—fuck—it’s all yours.”

“And you’re mine.”

“Yes—yes, I’m yours.”

He kisses you again. Sloppier this time. Less practiced. His rhythm starts to stutter and you think maybe he’s close but then he stops completely.

You whimper, confused, on the edge of sobbing.

He smiles. Brushes your hair from your face. “Beg.”

Your eyes go wide. “W-what?”

“I said beg. Tell me how badly you need me. How you’d lose your fucking mind without me.”

And you do.

Because he’s still inside you. Because your body’s on fire. Because your brain can’t make sense of anything but him.

“I need you, Jake. I’d go crazy without you. I’d die without you—please, please don’t stop—”

He lets out a sound between a growl and a laugh, hips snapping forward so deep you swear he hits something new.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes. “Always so good for me.”

You can’t remember your own name.

Just his.

Jake Jake Jake Jake.

You don’t know how long it lasts. How many times you come. How many things he makes you say.

By the time he finishes, buried deep, panting your name like a prayer, you’re shaking.

He kisses your forehead. Wraps you in his arms like nothing happened.

“See?” he whispers, voice thick with adoration. “No one will ever love you like I do.”

And you believe him.

Because no one else could.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: RAHHHHHH

[addictedtohobi]

Jaywon as like bullies? Stay with me now. I feel like Jay would always tease you and Jungwon would reassure you he’s just joking and you like one day kinda feel like Jungwon has feelings for you back, so you text him. And the whole time Jay was right next to him. Most of the time it was Jay typing. Jungwon plays along but never confirms he has feelings for you lowk he was just being nice to get in ur pants. Fast forward he does, he invites you over and boom jays there, ok that’s all I got😭 I was going off of that one pic, yk the one of Jay next to Jungwon and Jay was typing out comments on weverse

i think i have a compression problem cause i went wayyy off script (sorry girl)

MDNI

══════════════════════════

You've never really known where you stood with Jay and Jungwon. Jay's cruel, that much is obvious. He doesn't even try to hide it always tripping you when you pass by their table in the cafeteria, tugging your hair just hard enough to make your eyes water, smirking when you stumble and calling you pathetic under his breath, loud enough for others to hear and laugh.

And when he catches you alone in the hallway? He forces you to your knees under the pretense of "tying your shoe," fingers gripping your shoulders just a little too tight as he leans down, dark eyes glinting with something feral. "Look at you," he'll sneer, "right where you belong."

But Jungwon's different. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself. He's soft. Smiles at you when Jay's not looking. Whispers apologies when Jay gets too rough. Brushes your hair behind your ear and tells you you're pretty when Jay calls you ugly. Jungwon flirts with you like it means something, asks what color lip gloss you're wearing, tells you he likes your perfume, offers you a sip of his drink after gym like it's normal. Like he doesn't sit beside a boy who seems to genuinely enjoy breaking you.

Sometimes you think you're imagining it, the difference between them. Like maybe Jungwon just feels bad. But then he says something like, "Don't listen to him, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," and it sticks to the inside of your skull like a curse. Like hope.

You start to look for him more. Listen harder when he talks. Respond when he teases you gently instead of shrinking away like you do with Jay. You think about what it might be like if he kissed you. If he said he actually liked you. If all those times he brushed his fingers against yours meant something real.

So when you get a text from his number late one night, well past midnight, your heart stutters.

jung1: you up?

You blink at the screen, tucked under your blanket, stomach fluttering. You respond quickly, trying not to overthink.

you: yeah, everything okay?

It starts slow. Light. Flirty. He asks what you're wearing, you say pajamas, what you're watching, you lie and say something cool, and then he asks if you've ever thought about kissing him. Your fingers freeze. You hesitate, heart pounding, and then finally respond.

you: sometimes...

You bite your lip. The next reply comes fast.

jung1: i think about it all the time.

You don't know what to say. You smile, cheeks burning. You're giggling into your pillow, feeling so stupidly lucky. Like maybe, just maybe, you were right all along. Maybe he really does see you.

The light from Jungwon's phone screen glows soft and blue, casting shadows across his sharp features as he lounges on Jay's bed, back against the headboard. He's biting his lip, one hand scrolling through your messages, the other resting lazily in his lap.

Jay's sitting at the foot of the bed, legs spread, phone discarded. His focus is entirely on Jungwon, or more specifically, on the quiet smirk tugging at Jungwon's lips as another reply from you pops up.

"She said 'sometimes,'" Jungwon reads aloud, voice amused. "About the kissing."

Jay barks a short laugh. "You've got her wrapped, man. That shit's pathetic."

Jungwon shrugs, eyes flicking up briefly to meet Jay's. "She's cute, though."

"You mean easy," Jay corrects, smirking. He crawls up the bed, looming closer to see the screen. "Let me answer this one."

Jungwon doesn't hesitate. He hands over the phone, brushing Jay's fingers with his own in a way that lingers just long enough to feel intentional.

Jay types quickly.

jung1: i think about it all the time

He hits send and tosses the phone back to Jungwon like it's nothing. Like you're nothing.

"She's gonna lose her shit," Jay grins. "I bet she's already got her hand down her pants."

Jungwon laughs, soft and cruel. "Probably too scared to touch herself."

Jay cocks his head. "Should we help her out?"

Jungwon scrolls through your previous messages, eyes narrowing in amusement at the shy way you word things, all lowercase, hearts, hesitant punctuation. "She's already halfway there. We can keep pushing."

Jay moves in again, his voice low and close to Jungwon's ear. "Ask if she wants to see it."

There's no need to clarify. Jungwon knows exactly what it means.

He pauses. "Too soon?"

Jay shrugs. "Not if we say it like you're nervous about it. Make it sweet. You know, like...you."

Jungwon glances at him, a twitch of a smirk playing on his lips. "You're such a dick."

"Yeah. Right, whatever."

Jungwon doesn't deny it. Instead, he starts typing again, glancing at Jay before hitting send.

jung1: i don't wanna make you uncomfortable but... do you wanna see me?

They wait in silence. Jay's grinning now, teeth sharp. Jungwon's lip curls in satisfaction as your typing bubble pops up again and again, disappearing, coming back. He knows you're spiraling, nervous, flustered, overthinking every word.

Finally, your reply comes in.

you: yes...

Jay whistles low. "No way."

"I told you," Jungwon says simply, lifting the phone up. "She wants it." Jay stretches, arms behind his head, eyes dark. "Good. Then give it to her."

Jungwon's quiet as he opens his camera. He doesn't even hesitate whipping out his cock that's already half hard. It's almost insane how turned on he is by your naivety. The shot is fast, practiced. He sends it.

Then, almost like they planned it, he types the next message slowly, watching Jay's reaction from the corner of his eye.

jung1: your turn? 🙃

Jay leans in, lips barely parting. "She really sent it?"

Jungwon doesn't answer. He just turns the screen.

The picture is small, blurry but it doesn't matter. The point is that she sent it. You sent it. Your breasts sit so perky and perfect, nipples so hard—they both can't help but wonder if that was the first cock you ever saw.

Jay stares for a beat longer than he should. Then his gaze flicks up, locking with Jungwon's. Neither of them speak for a moment.

Then Jungwon licks his lips and murmurs, "You earned it."

Jay's already unzipping his jeans as Jungwon hands him the phone, maybe for a better view. He’s tugging at Jay’s jeans to hastily pull out his throbbing hard cock and wrap his mouth around it, the way he knows Jay likes.

Jungwon is leaned back against the headboard again, shirt off now, chest slowly rising and falling as he scrolls aimlessly through your messages, past the pictures, the nervous giggles you typed out, the confession you were too shy to say out loud but let slip anyway:

you: i've never done this before... only because it's you

His lip twitches at that. A smile. Barely there, but it's not the kind that reaches his eyes.

Jay's already half-asleep next to him, arms folded behind his head, a lazy grin still on his face and looking way too blissed out from what Jungwon did to him. "Didn't think she'd actually send it," he mumbles, eyes closed.

"She would've," Jungwon replies quietly, "Eventually. Girls like her always do."

Jay snorts. "Yeah, but only with you. You're the golden boy."

Jungwon hums, scrolling further, rereading a message where you told him you feel safe when he's around. That you trust him. That he makes you feel beautiful, not like how Jay always makes you feel small.

The irony almost makes him laugh.

He plays the role so well—soft voice, tender glances, the hand that brushes your hair behind your ear and tells you, "He doesn't mean it, you're perfect the way you are." You believed it, like you needed to.

And that's what made it easy.

Jay might've been loud, obvious, the kind of cruel you can point at and flinch from but Jungwon? He made you lean in. Made you feel chosen even.

He remembers the first time you blushed just because he said your name. Remembers how you always looked at him like he was the one good thing in a world full of people who didn't see you. You never asked why he never touched you when no one was looking. Why he always had a reason to walk away after making you flustered.

Because Jungwon never had to push. He waited. Watched. Let Jay tear you down until you reached for him like a life raft and he let you.

All the while knowing he was going to drown you too.

He turns the phone screen off and places it down slowly, thoughtfully. Jay's breathing deepens beside him, drifting off fully now but it doesn’t stop Jungwon from leaning in and pushing his tongue into Jay’s closed mouth and Jay even from his state of sleep, kisses back.

Jungwon laughs as he watches Jay’s head lift from the pillows, chasing Jungwon’s lips as he pulls back. Jungwon curls into Jay’s side and closes his eyes with that same soft expression you always mistook for affection.

But all it ever was—was hunger, dressed in kindness.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: this gives me tension theory vibes, am i tripping?

there’s an upgraded sequel- play thing

[addictedtohobi]

For some stupid reason, you thought letting your boyfriend fuck your best friend would be harmless—a weirdly selfless gift, nothing more. But when it breaks something in you, Sunghoon starts playing dirtier than ever. He says he did it for you, but now he won’t let you forget who he belongs to—or who you belong to.

nsfw warnings: SMUT, voyeurism, dub-con elements, manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, toxic dynamics, rough sex, kind of orgasm denial, creampie, breeding kink, degradation + praise, crying, angst, emotional aftermath, mention of infidelity (consensual), very toxic sunghoon, reader spirals, unhealthy coping, manhandling, makeup sex, light coercion vibes.

2.7k

════════════════════════════

You're sitting cross-legged on the bed, heart pounding as you say it. "I was just thinking...maybe you could sleep with her? Just once. She hasn't had good sex in a while and—well, you're amazing. Who better than you, right?" There's a long, terrifying pause. Sunghoon doesn't even look up from where he's lazily scrolling through his phone. His face stays unreadable, but the way his thumb slows gives him away.

He finally speaks. Quiet. Calm. "Say that again."

You hesitate. "I just...want her to have good sex. And you—" He puts his phone down.

"You want me," he says slowly, voice flat, "to fuck your best friend."

"Just once," you whisper. "It wouldn't mean anything. I trust you—"

"I'm not a charity service, baby," he interrupts, tone dangerously low. "You think I'll fuck someone just because you feel bad she's not getting laid?"

You shrink a little under his stare, but he doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. There's a different kind of heat in his eyes now—darker, colder. "I don't share," he says simply. "Not you. Not me."

His fingers hook your chin, making you meet his gaze. "She can find her own dick. Mine belongs to you."

Then, after a pause, he leans in, lips brushing your ear.

"But the fact you even asked..." he murmurs, voice dropping to a whisper, "means I'm not fucking you hard enough. You're not loving it enough, since you just wanna share me with some girl."

It was two days after you suggested it, two days after he'd shut it down. You thought the quiet way he dismissed it meant it was over.

But now he's randomly brought it up again and being weirdly open to it.

"So...does she like it rough?" Sunghoon asks casually, flipping through a glass of water like it's wine. "Or would she want to be on her back the whole time?"

You freeze. "What?"

"Your best friend," he says smoothly, lifting his eyes to yours with an unreadable look. "You never told me what she's into."

"I—I don't know," you stammer, heart tripping. "She doesn't talk about that stuff much."

Sunghoon hums, standing from the kitchen stool and slowly walking toward you. You shift where you're sitting on the couch, suddenly unsure of everything.

"She's cute," he adds. "Not as pretty as you. But I get it now. You didn't just want her to have good sex. You wanted her to know what it's like with me."

You flinch, looking down. "That's not—"

"You already told her, didn't you?"

Your mouth opens, then shuts.

"You did," he smirks. "Told her you'd let me fuck her. Made her all curious. She's probably been thinking about it nonstop."

He crouches in front of you now, brushing his fingers lightly up your thigh. "Are you thinking about it, baby?"

You blink, mouth dry. "I thought...you said you don't share."

"I don't," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your knee. "But you do. You offered me like a gift. So why wouldn't I enjoy it?"

Something sharp twists in your gut. You feel cold. Distant. You don't know whether you're imagining the heat in his voice or if he's really enjoying this—planning it—taunting you.

"Are you jealous?" he whispers, tilting his head. "You can say no. We don't have to do it."

But now, if you say no, you'll look insecure. Possessive. Dramatic. And you'd already told her. You'd already told her.

You manage a smile. "No...I'm fine."

Sunghoon's lips curl. "Good."

But the way his hand slides up your leg, slow and possessive, tells you something else—this was never about your friend. This was about reminding you exactly who he belongs to. And what happens when you forget.

You genuinely didn't think it would happen. You honestly thought he'd back out, maybe he was just teasing you. But now you're sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed, tense, trying not to fall apart, while your best friend stands a few feet away looking unsure and nervous, arms crossed over her chest.

Sunghoon is the only one comfortable. He sits back on the bed, legs spread, shirt off, calm like he's about to conduct a goddamn seminar. "She's shy," he muses, eyes flicking over your friend. "Not like you."

You tense. "Hoon..."

He ignores the warning in your voice.

"You're such a slut for me, baby. Always dripping. Always begging." His voice is soft. Fond, even. "She's scared to even look at me. It's weird."

You glance at your friend. She's biting her lip, unsure, flushed. This was your idea. You told her it was okay. Encouraged it. So now you can't say anything.

Sunghoon's hand reaches out, coaxing her forward, and she goes, slow and hesitant. She settles between his legs as he leans back on his hands, watching her. You want to look away, but you can't.

You shouldn't be here.

But Sunghoon insisted. "Sit there," he'd said earlier, pointing to the chair across from the bed. "I want you to watch."

It was supposed to be just sex. It was supposed to be for her. But the moment she gasps—really gasps—as he finally pushes inside her, you feel your stomach twist. She moans loud, thighs trembling around his hips, and Sunghoon just exhales through his nose, like he's savoring it.

"Shit," he mutters. "She's tight."

She nods helplessly, eyes fluttering shut, head falling back. It's too much for her, the way he moves—deep, slow, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot until her breath comes out in choked, trembling cries. You can tell she's never been fucked like this. She sounds like she's about to cry. From how good it feels.

And that's when you realize—he's not even looking at her. His eyes are on you. The entire time.

His jaw tightens slightly as she clenches around him, his pace picking up just enough to make her sob. But his eyes don't leave your face—not for a second.

And then you move. Just a little. Rising to stand. His voice cuts through the air like a blade.

"Don't you dare." You freeze.

"Sit. Back. Down." He says, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips, shoving his cock into her sopping hole.

You sit.

His hips snap harder now, making her cry out again, and your heart is in your throat. This isn't for her. It never was. This is some form of punishment. A game.

He leans in, lips ghosting against your friend's ear as he whispers something low you can't hear. She nods weakly, breath hitching. And then he finally smiles—sharp, satisfied, dangerous—and murmurs your name without looking away.

"You wanted this, didn't you?"

Her fingers are trembling. Her moans are breathy and scattered like she doesn't know what to do with them.

Sunghoon has her knees spread wide, one hand around her thigh, the other pressing firm into her lower belly, right where she's most sensitive.

You're sitting there. Still and frozen. You don't even think you've blinked once. "You're doing so good," he murmurs—gently, like he's never spoken to anyone else that way before. "Just breathe. You're almost there."

You hate how good he sounds at it. How practiced and sweet.

Her eyes squeeze shut. Then they open—and for one second, they meet yours across the room. She looks ashamed of how good it feels.

And that's when she breaks. She cries out as her body arches, a full-body shudder making her hips jolt in his hands. She grabs at his wrist, her breath hitching.

"Oh—oh my God!—Sunghoon! Y/n!—thank you!"

It slips out, soft and breathless. Like she means it. Like you both just gave her some fucked up present. Sunghoon only hums, rubbing her through the aftershocks.

You can't breathe as you watch her pull her skirt up with shaking fingers. Avoiding your gaze completely.

You manage a smile when she glances your way. You nod, say something stupid—"Want me to walk you out?"—and she declines, says she's okay. Grabs her keys with shaky hands and hurries out the door.

The second it closes, you walk into the kitchen with no direction. Open the fridge. Close it. Open a drawer. Shut it.

Sunghoon appears behind you a moment later. "Okay. You're gonna act like that now?"

You stiffen. "Like what?"

He scoffs. "You're mad."

You turn around with an empty glass in your hand just to avoid clenching your fists instead.

"I'm not mad."

"Really? So what is this then? Hm? You being weird and quiet and pissed for no reason?"

You shove past him.

He follows. "Don't do that, baby. Don't be fucking rude to me when this was your idea. You asked me to fuck her. You asked me to make her feel good."

"What? You expected me to give her bad sex?"

"You didn't have to enjoy it," you snap, voice cracking. "You could've at least pretended like it wasn't that good."

His jaw clenches, and then—he laughs. It's not amused. It's bitter. Sharp. "Enjoy it?"

You flinch at the way he repeats it.

"You think I fucking enjoyed it?"

You fold your arms across your chest, looking away, but he steps in. Closer. You feel the heat coming off his body before you even register his hand catching yours.

He grabs your wrist—firm, not rough—and drags your hand straight to the front of his sweats, pressing it hard against the thick, unrelenting bulge beneath the fabric.

Your breath stutters.

"Does this feel like I enjoyed it?"

His voice is low. Laced with frustration. A different kind of ache.

"You think I got off?" he hisses, pushing your palm harder into the shape of him. "I didn't. Not a fucking drop. You think I gave her what I give you? I couldn't."

Your hand twitches, but he holds it there.

"I was hard the entire time. Still am," he mutters, eyes locked on yours. "My balls fucking hurt."

And it does. You can feel it—hot and heavy, straining against the fabric. His dick is pulsing under your palm, like it's begging for a release that never came.

"I wanted you the entire time," he says. "You. You had me riled up before I even touched her."

You finally yank your hand back, like it burned you. Like you don't know what to do with it anymore.

He exhales sharply. "I should've told you it was a bad idea," he mutters. "But I didn't. And now we're both fucked up over it."

The silence after his words hangs heavy, your hand retreating like it betrayed you, but the ghost of that contact still lingers between you.

You don't say anything.

You can't.

Sunghoon's eyes stay locked on yours—dark, stormy, searching—and then he tilts his head, stepping in slowly like you're a skittish thing he's trying not to spook.

"You're not gonna touch me?" His voice is low and quiet, but there's something mocking under the softness. A cruel kind of pout.

He brushes the back of his fingers along your jaw, then dips his face down, nuzzling your cheek with the bridge of his nose, his breath fanning warm over your skin.

"Hm? After all that, you're just gonna stand there?" he whispers. "You're not gonna help me?"

You turn your face away, refusing to meet his eyes, but that only makes him more relentless. He grabs your hand again, gentler this time, but still firm and guides it down slowly. Over the front of his waistband. Beneath the elastic of his sweats.

You feel the heat of him first, the slickness from how long he's been leaking, and then—him. Thick. Rock-hard. Twitching.

He groans, quiet but guttural the moment your fingers wrap around him. His hips stutter forward like he couldn't help it even if he tried. "Fuck, baby..."

He rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. "You feel what you do to me?" he breathes. "You think she got me like this?"

You're still frozen. But your hand—your traitorous, aching hand—tightens around him just slightly, and the sound he makes is sinful. Starving. "Go ahead," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth with maddening restraint. "Take it. Do whatever you want. Hurt me, make me beg, punish me—just don't walk away."

Your hand stays wrapped around him, sticky and warm inside his sweats, but your expression sharpens—cold and unreadable now.

He said anything. So you truly act like it.

Without a word, you wrap your fingers tighter around the base of him, gripping hard enough to make his breath hitch.

Then you yank him forward by his dick. His body follows instantly, helpless to resist. He lets out a broken groan, stumbling after you like a man under spell. You march him toward the bedroom without looking back, ignoring the way his cock is tenting now—angry and leaking.

The second you're in the room, you shove him. He falls back onto the bed with a laugh—low, wrecked, way too pleased. "Fuck yeah, baby," he groans, spreading his thighs as you crawl over him, pinning him down with nothing but your stare. "You gonna fuck me on the same bed I just made your best friend cum all over?"

The words sting. Your stomach twists. You hesitate for half a second. Then your hand flies to his jaw. "Shut the fuck up."

He grins like he lives for this, almost like he's wanted this version of you all along. You straddle him fully now, grinding down, not to tease him, but to use him. His hands grip your thighs, but you slap them away.

"Don't touch me unless I tell you to," you hiss, voice trembling with anger you can't hide anymore.

"Yes, ma'am," he breathes, absolutely wrecked. "Whatever you want." But he's smiling, smirking even, like he already knows you're not really in control. Like he's just playing along.

And you don't realize it until it's too late.

Because the second you sink down onto him—tight, slow, making sure he feels every inch of how much he missed—his hands fly back to your hips. Gripping. Holding. Locking you in place.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, eyes fluttering shut like he's seeing god. You brace your palms on his chest, ready to ride him into the mattress, to take from him like he said you could but then his hips buck up hard. In one thrust, deep and mean.

You gasp, nails digging into his skin, but before you can protest, he's already doing it again—rolling his hips in slow, punishing strokes that reach everywhere.

You try to ride him like your pride depends on it, hips snapping forward, teeth clenched, trying to stay in control even as he grips your waist tighter with every thrust from below. It's filthy. Loud. Desperate. You try to slap his chest to get him to stop, but he catches your wrist mid-swing, pinning it behind you as he sits up, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

But the second you start clenching around him—tight, fluttering—he loses it.

"Fuck—fuck, baby—gonna cum—" he growls, burying his face in your chest, almost motorboating as his whole body tenses beneath you.

You feel the heat of it—his cock twitching deep inside, thick spurts filling you as he moans into your skin. His arms tremble, back arching, and for a second, you think it's over.

That you won. But before your brain can even catch up, he flips you—manhandles you—onto your stomach like your body weighs nothing. You gasp into the sheets, dazed, already overstimulated.

He doesn't even give you a second to adjust. Because he's still hard.

"Hoonie—" you pant, twisting under him.

"Did you think I was finished?" he hisses, lining himself up again, one hand braced on the bed beside your head. "You really thought one round was enough for that fucking stunt you pulled?"

He thrusts in again, harder this time.

You scream into the pillow, legs shaking as his pace turns punishing.

"You'll never offer me to anyone again," he growls, breath hot in your ear. "Not after I'm done with you. You hear me?"

You can't even answer. You're falling apart beneath him.

"Say it," he demands, slamming into you again. "Tell me whose dick this is."

"M-Mine!" you cry out, voice muffled. "It's mine, only mine—!"

"That's right," he snarls, slapping your ass before gripping your hip again, deep and brutal. "Yours. Always."

════════════════════════════

• a/n: where did this even come from?😭 this is kind of like a glimpse of what goes on in my head cause i love toxic relationship drama🤧

[addictedtohobi]

You were just Heeseung’s girlfriend’s cousin—quiet, polite, a little too naive for your own good. Then you met his friends. Now you’re in the middle of a spiraling mess of jealousy, bad decisions, emotional whiplash and two boys who treat boundaries like suggestions. Oops.

➺ minors do not interact

➺ pairing: park sunghoon x afab reader x jake sim

➺ wc: 33k (i’m so sorry)

➺ content tags: SMUT, toxic friendships, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, angst, character conflict, questionable decision-making, emotional tension, verbal degradation, crying, physical altercation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, complex feelings, power imbalance, mentions of blood, depictions of anxious behavior, manipulative dynamics, sunghoon speaks in italics, jake has issues, messy people being messy, mentions of enhypen’s heeseung and lesserafim’s yunjin. not proofread.

➺ a/n: this got a little out of hand. everyone in this is insane and needs therapy (except maybe yunjin). please remember this is fiction and not a guide to healthy relationships. enjoy the chaos.

➺ part two here

➺ nsfw tags under the cut

praise kink, degradation kink, oral sex, jealousy kink, crying during sex, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, aftercare, slutty behavior, dirty talk, intense emotional sex, soft dom undertones, toxic tenderness (let me know if i missed any)

══════════════════════════

You don't know why you're still here, the music's too loud, the laughter too sharp and the room too small for how much it feels like it's pressing against you, closing you in. You're not even sure how you ended up here, or why you let Yunjin drag you out when you knew damn well it was going to be one of those nights. She's busy talking to someone else now, lost in the chaos, and you're left to wander, like always.

You clutch your cup tighter, not because you want more to drink but because it's the only thing grounding you. It's plastic, cheap, and it's all that's standing between you and the clamor of this stupid, stupid party. The people around you are so loud, so unapologetically themselves. Everyone's happy, laughing, drinking, talking with their friends, and you? You're just another face in the crowd, a blur, standing on the edge of it all.

There's a group of girls dancing by the window, the kind of girls who laugh too loud, talk too much, their bright colors making it clear they've got more attention than you ever will. You want to look away, but your eyes keep dragging back, following them as if your brain can't help but analyze the way their bodies move, the way they shine so effortlessly. And then, you wonder how they'd look if you were in the center of their circle, taking the place of one of them, laughing, dancing, without a care in the world. You can almost see it, but the picture feels blurry, like it's just out of reach.

Somewhere across the room, you spot a couple making out by the fridge, their hands wandering, the slapping sound of wet lips and muffled giggles piercing through the noise. The guy's hands wander lower, and she pulls him in closer, her body shifting beneath him. It's normal, you think, but the weird feeling in your stomach twists deeper. You've always felt like an outsider in these situations. These people, they know what they're doing, know how to have fun, know how to look and act in the moment. You never really fit in like that.

You glance around again. There's a guy on the couch talking too loudly, probably trying to impress someone with some half-baked story, and another girl, looking over at him like she's interested but not enough to give him her full attention. You catch bits of conversations, fragments, half-formed words and laughing sentences that don't make sense to you. People throwing their heads back and laughing like it's the easiest thing in the world. And you're standing there, holding your cup like it's a shield, too afraid to walk into any of it, too scared to be a part of it.

You sigh, letting your gaze wander to the corner by the stairs, where a few of the guys are hanging out. They're laughing, but their laughter sounds different from the others. Louder, sharper. There was something about observing everyone else that made you feel detached, almost like an outsider. Heeseung, of course, was the life of the party, laughing loudly with friends, always the center of attention. His presence demanded it, naturally. And then there was Sunghoon, looking as composed as ever, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, watching the room with his usual detached gaze.

But what caught your attention most in that moment was Jake. The chaos of the party seemed to swirl around him like he was at the eye of the storm. You caught a glimpse of him near the drinks table, his usual smirk on his face as he chatted with a girl who was all doe-eyed and giggling, the kind of girl who looked like she'd fall for anything he said. He didn't seem bothered by the attention, though.

In fact, he seemed...pleased.

You watched, your heart picking up pace, as he gently guided the girl toward Sunghoon. Jake's hand rested at the small of her back, his smile playful and effortlessly charming as he introduced the girl to Sunghoon. The moment wasn't anything special on the surface, but the way Jake's hand lingered, the way Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable... it sent an unexpected ripple of discomfort through you.

It wasn't just the way Jake stood so confidently, so familiar with the girl, but the way Sunghoon's lips curved upwards—slightly, ever so slightly—into something that resembled a smile. It was the first time you'd seen him genuinely show any hint of warmth toward someone in this room, especially a stranger.

Sunghoon took the girl's hand delicately, raising it to his lips in a soft, almost theatrical gesture, kissing her knuckles with a quiet grace that didn't match the chaos of the party. His gaze flickered briefly to the girl, and then back to Jake. You couldn't hear the words they exchanged, but the scene itself was enough to make your stomach tighten, an odd mix of curiosity and something heavier—something that felt like jealousy, though you quickly pushed that feeling aside.

The girl blushed, her smile sweet as she laughed at something Sunghoon said. You couldn't help but notice how easy it was for her to slip into this world, how effortlessly she fit into the social dynamic that you were still trying to make sense of.

And then your eyes caught Sunghoon's gaze—just for a moment. His eyes met yours across the room, cold and distant, before he blinked and shifted his attention back to the girl in front of him. But it wasn't the usual indifference you were used to; there was something there, something flickering beneath his cool exterior that made your heart skip a beat. But then it was gone, and he was back to his composed self, nodding politely at whatever the girl was saying.

You shook your head, blinking away the strange feeling of being left behind. You had no reason to be affected by any of this, right? You were just... observing. That was all..

You shift your weight, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little too fast. You wonder what he's thinking, or if he's thinking anything at all. He never really pays attention to you. At least, that's how it feels. Sunghoon's the kind of person who sees everything but says nothing. He can be in a room full of people and somehow make you feel like you're invisible. Like it doesn't matter if you're there, or not. But you know better. Deep down, you know he notices. He has to. Why else would you feel like your pulse quickens every time he's near?

You turn your eyes away from the corner and try to focus on something, anything else, but your mind keeps drifting back to them. To him. To the way the whole room feels different when he's around. You wonder if they all see it — the way he stands apart from everyone else, like he's above it all. And you wonder if they notice that you're always the one looking at him, the one too afraid to be noticed, but always noticing him. Your breath hitches slightly as you feel the weight of your own thoughts.

There's a sudden burst of laughter nearby, and someone bumps into you, startling you out of your thoughts. You almost spill your drink, but you catch it just in time. Your hands tremble slightly, and you hate yourself for it, because who the hell gets nervous in a crowded room full of drunk people?

The night is too long. It's too much. It's too overwhelming.

And just when you think you've had enough, just when you're about to leave and find a quiet place to breathe, someone grabs your wrist gently but firmly.

"Hey, are you okay?"

It's Yunjin. Again. Her eyes are softer now, concerned.

You blink up at her, not even realizing you'd been holding your breath. She's got that knowing look on her face, like she can see right through you.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You're not okay, but what's the point in admitting it?

Yunjin doesn't buy it. "You're not fooling anyone. Loosen up. Let go. It's just a party."

You swallow, then force a smile. "Yeah, just a party."

She gives you one last look before pulling you toward the kitchen, ready to distract you with something, anything to get you out of your head. You follow her, only half-present in the moment, lost in thoughts of someone who probably doesn't even know you exist.

The music is a dull hum in the background as Heeseung finds you and Yunjin. He looks a little too smug, like he's up to something. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach as his eyes flash between you and Yunjin, and you know exactly what's coming.

"You two," Heeseung grins, "let's go say hi to the boys. They're over by the back corner."

You immediately freeze. No. No way. You'd rather do just about anything else than walk up to that corner of the room. It's always them, always Jake and Sunghoon, always that strange tension that makes everything feel ten times harder than it needs to be.

Yunjin, surprisingly, seems to read the atmosphere instantly. "Heeseung, no. We're good. Let's just—"

But before she can finish, Heeseung's already dragging her along, and of course, that means you have no choice but to follow. You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. You could leave, but that would make you look like a coward. So, you trudge after them, barely registering the shifting in the crowd as Heeseung pulls you both toward the back.

As you approach, you see them. Sunghoon, leaning against the wall like he owns the place, his eyes cold but somehow piercing. He's not looking at you, and the familiar ache in your chest stirs again. And then there's Jake, that infuriating, charming, always-too-confident smile on his face. He's leaning toward Sunghoon, whispering something in his ear, and for a brief moment, Sunghoon's lips curl up into a rare smile—an actual, genuine one. Your heart lurches in your chest, an unfamiliar feeling tightening your throat.

It's the kind of smile you rarely get to see from him. It's like a secret just for Jake, a look of camaraderie you'll never be a part of. It almost feels like you've just been slapped. Why does it bother you so much?

And then, before you can even process the feeling, Heeseung's already talking to them about something you can't hear over the thrum of your heartbeat

Jake, not missing a beat, looks over at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, smiling like he just found his favorite toy unattended. His lips curve into that damn teasing smirk that makes your stomach churn.

"Well, well, well," Jake begins, leaning in a little too close, voice dripping with something far too cocky, "look who finally showed up, Sunghoon's biggest fan" His eyes scan you up and down, like he's not even trying to hide how much he's enjoying seeing you squirm.

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know your face is probably betraying you. The red creeping up your neck is only the start of it and like clockwork the memory of that damn day starts playing in your head, that damn art show.

The school art show wasn't your idea of fun, not by a long shot. It was all cliché stuff—overpriced paintings no one understood, weird sculptures that looked like junk, and way too many people pretending to care about the "emerging artists." You hated those events, but Yunjin had dragged you there because Heeseung had convinced her it'd be "fun", at the time you had even wondered if this was what your life would amount to, Yunjin dragging you everywhere Heeseung drags her too, You wanted to be anywhere else that night but there you were, standing in the middle of a sea of pretentious art students, holding a plastic cup of wine that tasted like it was from a box, trying to look like you belonged.

You were trying to blend into the background, holding your drink like a shield. You hated how awkward you always felt around people you didn't know, how out of place you were in spaces like that. But that wasn't the part that had bothered you. No, what hit you hardest was when you saw him.

Sunghoon.

He was standing across the room by a few abstract paintings, his expression as unreadable as ever, hands shoved into the pockets of his blazer, looking as out of place as you felt. You could never fully decipher what was going on in his head, but it didn't stop you from trying. He was stunning, impossibly cool, like he belonged in a different world, not the sweaty, underfunded art gallery that smelled like paint fumes.

You didn't know how long you'd been staring at him until you felt the weight of someone standing beside you. When you glanced over, it was Jake, his usual smirk plastered across his face. He didn't even need to say anything, not really. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he already knew.

"Interesting, huh?" Jake's voice was low, teasing, like he was reading you like a book and you were too obvious for him to care.

Your heart skipped, heat creeping into your cheeks, but you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Not really. I'm just looking around."

But Jake wasn't buying it. His gaze flicked over to Sunghoon, then back to you, sharp and calculating. He raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "You sure you're not looking at him?"

Your stomach dropped. The way he said it was casual, too casual, like he was testing the waters, but you felt your pulse quicken. No. This couldn't be happening. You could feel the blood rush to your face, betraying you. The truth was, you were looking at him. It was hard not to. Sunghoon had a way of standing in a room and making everyone else feel irrelevant. But of course, you couldn't admit that to his demon of a best friend, not now, not ever.

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on some abstract art that was meant to be a painting of a tree but looked more like a tangle of colorful spaghetti. "I wasn't—"

Jake didn't let you finish. He stepped closer, his voice a little too loud, cutting through the low hum of the party. "You know, you're really obvious sometimes."

You froze. The words burned, like they were meant to sting.

"I mean, you're always so quiet around him, so careful not to look at him too much, like you're afraid he'll notice." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "But I noticed. I always notice."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. You hadn't realized it was that obvious. Had you really been that transparent? You'd tried so hard to hide it, but it felt like every single moment around him was a magnet that pulled your attention back to Sunghoon, even when you didn't want it to.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, trying to backpedal, but Jake was already laughing, low and knowing. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying the fact that you couldn't hide from him, not anymore.

"No need to deny it," he'd said, leaning in a little too close, his smirk practically leaking into his words. "It's cute. How you've got it so bad for him. But you're not the only one who notices, you know? And don't even bother you're way too plain for...well, anyone." He nodded in Sunghoon's direction, and your heart froze at the thought of him knowing too.

Before you could even form a response, Jake was already walking off, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spiraling. The rest of the art show blurred into the background as you watched Sunghoon from the corner of your eye. He was talking to a group of people, his expression still cold, his gaze distant. He wasn't even looking at you. Of course he wasn't. You were just another face in the crowd to him.

But for that brief, horrible moment, you felt completely exposed, like your deepest, stupidest secret was laid bare for everyone to see.

Jake had seen it all and made you feel bad for it like you were so wrong for even thinking about Sunghoon. All the thoughts and memories were quickly pushed out by Jake's laughter, his reaction to your stunned expression.

Before you can muster any response, Jake's voice lowers, and he asks, his tone far too casual, "So, did you touch yourself to the thought of him this morning? I mean, come on, it's not like you've been hiding it."

Your stomach drops. The world feels like it slows down as your cheeks burn with the harsh sting of embarrassment. You're about to say something, anything, but Yunjin immediately jumps in.

"Jake, stop," she snaps, her hand on his shoulder, trying to push him away but her voice doesn't hold the sharpness it needs. It sounds more like a half-hearted attempt at deflecting, not like someone who's genuinely defending you.

You can't even look at her, the humiliation swarms you, sinking in deeper as Jake's laugh fills the space between you all. It's mocking but there's something else in it too, something darker and of course, Sunghoon is just standing there, arms crossed, his expression still unreadable. He meets your eyes for a split second and for that brief moment, your chest feels tight, like the air's been sucked out of your lungs.

His gaze is cold, but there's something there. Is it judgment? Disinterest? You can't tell. Before you can make sense of it, he looks away, turning his attention back to the group, like the brief moment never happened. And that feeling—the one you've been trying to avoid all night—surges again. You want to disappear. You want to vanish into the floor, to leave this all behind. To not have to stand here, in front of them, where every word feels like a betrayal of yourself.

"Wow, she's really shy," Jake continues, noticing the red creeping up your neck, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Your little secret's safe with me." He says crossing his heart clearly to continue in his mockery of you.

Yunjin steps in front of you, her posture protective, though you can tell she's just as uncomfortable with the way Jake's been pushing. "Jake, seriously. Just, cut it out."

But Jake doesn't listen, of course he doesn't. He's too caught up in the fun of teasing, in watching you squirm under his words. He steps closer to you, leaning in, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

"Tell me, did you think about it when you were alone? How badly you want him, hmm? I bet you've been thinking about it for a while now." His words are so casual, but the intensity behind them has your heart racing, your hands shaking at your sides.

You don't know how to answer. You don't know how to respond without making it worse. The silence stretches too long. You feel the weight of everyone's gaze, even if most of it is on you, the heat of the room pressing in, suffocating you.

And Sunghoon—he just keeps ignoring you. Like he always does. Even now, when Jake is throwing all of this in your face, Sunghoon just looks away. He doesn't speak, doesn't even acknowledge the tension between you all. You're invisible to him, and that hurts more than anything else.

The world suddenly feels smaller. You want to crawl into a hole, to escape from the fire that Jake's started with his words but for some reason you can't. Not yet.

Yunjin doesn't know what to say anymore. The air is thick with the weight of unspoken things, the tension hanging between all of you, and nothing will be the same after this.

You didn't even realize your body had moved you to walk way until you hear Yunjin calling after you but you ignore her, you don't care, you need to leave, her voice fading with every step you take. You don't care about that look of pity Heeseung probably gave you slipped out of their presence, or that anyone else in that damn party even notices your absence. All you can focus on is the frantic pounding of your heart, the feeling of humiliation that's gnawing at your insides, like it's eating you from the inside out.

The cold night air hits your skin like an ice-cold slap, sharp enough to snap you back into some kind of reality, but not enough to stop the sting in your chest. You press your arms tighter around yourself, the thin fabric of your jacket doing little to protect you. The tears you don't want to cry keep falling, though they're dry now, the cold air sucking them away before they can even make it down your face.

You hate Jake.

You hate him so much.

How dare he? How fucking dare he see through you like that, so easily, like you were some pathetic little thing for him to toy with? Like you weren't even a person, just some... joke for him to laugh at, to humiliate. He knew exactly what he was doing when he cornered you like that, when he asked you about Sunghoon like it was the most casual thing in the world. He had to have known how you'd react, how fucking embarrassed you'd be. He had to have known.

And yet, he didn't stop. He didn't care.

Your thoughts spiral, each one more self-loathing than the last, each one making your chest tighten until it's hard to breathe. You should've known this was coming, right? You should've known it would end like this—Jake, smirking, tearing you apart with a couple of words, and Sunghoon... Sunghoon—who just... looked at you. Like you were nothing. Like you were invisible.

You didn't even have the strength to stay at that party. You couldn't even pretend to enjoy yourself. You were suffocating, choking on your own insecurities. Every breath felt heavier than the last, every step you took colder than the one before.

"God, I hate him..." The words slip out before you even realize you're speaking them, your voice shaking. You're not sure if you're talking about Jake or Sunghoon anymore, but in this moment, it feels like the same thing. Like both of them were the reason you were this miserable.

Your pace quickens, though you don't know why. Maybe it's the restlessness, the panic bubbling up in your chest that makes your heart race faster, like you can't get away from the thoughts, from the feelings fast enough. You can feel your chest tightening, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You can almost feel the anxiety creeping in, wrapping around you like chains.

You want to scream, but it gets stuck in your throat. You don't know how much longer you can keep it together, keep pretending like none of this is killing you inside.

The city lights flicker in the distance as you push through the cold, the emptiness of the streets echoing the emptiness in your chest. It feels like you're walking on autopilot, each step taking you further from the party, further from the night that just destroyed everything. It's not until you reach the alley by your apartment building that you stop, your back pressed against the cold brick wall, fighting to get control of yourself.

Breathe. Just breathe.

But even the simple task of breathing feels like too much. Your head is spinning, the world around you feels far away, like you're trapped inside your own head and can't escape.

You press a hand to your forehead, trying to steady yourself, but the dizziness doesn't go away. Everything's too loud. Your thoughts are too loud. Your own heartbeat is too loud.

You can't stop thinking about what Jake said, what he made you feel. And Sunghoon... he didn't even notice. Did he notice? Probably not. He never notices you. You weren't worth noticing.

Tears prick at your eyes again, and you curse under your breath, wiping them away furiously, but they keep coming. How could you be this weak? How could you let them both—Jake and Sunghoon—tear you apart so easily?

It feels like everything is unraveling, like you're losing control of the only thing you had left: yourself. And you want to scream, to punch something, to hit Jake and Sunghoon for making you feel this small.

But instead, you just stand there, on the sidewalk. feeling completely hollow inside, letting the cold air do what it does best—drown out the tears you couldn't stop.

*

Two weeks, that's how much time had passed since the night of the party, two weeks of you keeping your distance from both Jake and Sunghoon, not that you were ever willingly in their presence anyway—it was easy. You'd stayed firm, avoided every chance to interact with them, despite Yunjin's insistence that you needed to stop being so stubborn. You weren't about to let yourself be subjected to Jake's taunts and Sunghoon's indifference. So, you avoided them. Kept your head down, and kept to yourself.

Whenever Yunjin tried dragging you to Heeseung's apartment or anywhere you knew they would be, you'd fake an excuse, stand your ground, and avoid them like the plague. It had been too humiliating, too hurtful to let them into your space again. Jake's teasing, his knowing smirk when he'd drop hints about Sunghoon, about your obvious feelings—everything about it made your skin crawl. Sunghoon's lack of acknowledgment had only made it worse. You weren't sure what was worse: the way Jake tormented you or the way Sunghoon simply didn't care.

But today was different. Yunjin had made a big deal about a girls' day out. Just you and her, no boys allowed. You weren't sure how she convinced you to go, but you'd relented. You needed a break from everything—the pressure of avoiding people, the stress that kept mounting every time you had to walk past Jake, every time Sunghoon was just there.

So, you got dressed.

A simple dress—nothing too flashy, but it was enough to make you feel good about yourself, for the first time in weeks. The fabric clung just enough to your figure, and you paired it with simple sandals that didn't make you feel like you had to put on some act. It was just you, trying to feel a little more like yourself.

But then, of course, life had other plans.

You met Yunjin at Heeseung's apartment, ready to head out. She'd already slipped into a playful, teasing mood, chatting excitedly about the day ahead. But as you stepped through the door, you froze.

Jake and Sunghoon were sitting in the living room, you think about bolting, making a run for it. Why are they here anyway? Don't they have some super expensive off campus apartment?

You tried to avoid eye contact, hoping they wouldn't notice you, but of course, Jake's eyes were already on you, studying you in that way that made your skin prickle.

"Y/N," Jake drawls, voice warm like honey—if honey were made of gasoline and meant to burn. "You're looking... fuckable today."

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"What the actual—"

He's already pushing off the couch, making his way toward you like a predator who's just noticed his prey flinching. You take a step back instinctively, fingers gripping your phone like it could protect you.

Jake hums as he circles you. "You got a date? Some sweet campus boy finally grow the balls to ask you out?"

"I'm here for Yunjin," you bite out. "She's just grabbing something." You add, you yourself wondering why you're explaining it to him.

His eyes drag over your figure slowly. "Blue suits you."

You fold your arms over your chest. "Whatever game you're playing—"

But then his hand moves. Quick. Thoughtless.

He flips the hem of your dress up just enough to see the skin of your upper thighs and lets out a low whistle. "Damn, sweetheart. Who's the lucky guy today? Or lemme guess..."

He leans in, breath ghosting your ear, "You wore this for Sunghoon?" Your entire body stiffens and you glance past Jake's shoulder—expecting, maybe, for Sunghoon to roll his eyes, or finally say something to make Jake shut the hell up but he doesn't look at you.

He stays exactly where he is, face blank, eyes still trained on his phone like you don't even exist.

It stings more than it should.

You turn on your heel and head toward the door, heart thudding somewhere between your ribs and your throat

"Jake—" Yunjin started, her voice sharp, defensive, but it wasn't convincing. She didn't sound angry enough. Didn't sound protective enough. "Heeseung! Tell Jake to leave Y/N alone! For fucks sake". She says to her boyfriend but he just looks around like he doesn't want to get involved.

You wanted to disappear. Wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

You looked at Sunghoon again, hoping for a flicker of recognition, maybe even a hint of something. But no. His gaze was trained on something else entirely, indifferent to the scene Jake was creating. He didn't look up at you. Didn't acknowledge you at all.

And then, as if to prove that he'd never been part of this conversation, Sunghoon looked away towards the hallway.

You bit your lip to stop the tears from welling up, your throat tightening. The humiliation was unbearable. You didn't even care about Jake anymore, or what he said. What hurt was the fact that Sunghoon didn't even spare you a second glance.

"Jesus, Yunjin, relax," Jake continued, his voice light but dripping with mockery. "She's just dressed up. Can't blame me for noticing. Not like she's got anyone else to impress."

You wanted to scream. Wanted to say so many things, tell him to fuck off, tell him you weren't anyone's joke but you couldn't. You were stuck in that moment, frozen, watching as he mocked you.

You finally managed to move again, head low, pretending you were above it all, pretending it didn't hurt, but it did.

As you turned to leave, Jake's voice rang out again, as if he hadn't had enough of toying with you. "See you later, baby girl," he called after you, too casually, too easily. You're almost out. One hand's on the handle, back turned because you don't want to give Jake the satisfaction of seeing your face, or how flushed you feel.

But you pause against your better judgment and look back and see Sunghoon lean in to whisper something into Jake's ear his voice is low, soft. You barely hear it, just a whisper, meant only for Jake.

You don't catch the words—but you do catch Jake's reaction. He jerks his head toward Sunghoon, brows lifted in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?" Jake mutters, like it's something vile. You don't wait to hear more, you're already out the door, the fabric of your dress still settling around your thighs, and your chest feels tight again. Not because of Jake but because you don't know what Sunghoon said.

And it's driving you crazy.

Yunjin is still babbling behind you, but you barely heard her.

You pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart thudding too fast. The burning in your throat was almost unbearable. You didn't even want to go out anymore. You didn't want to do anything. You were sick of feeling this way. Sick of the way Jake had gotten under your skin, sick of the way Sunghoon could make you feel like nothing without even trying.

The day blurred into night, the girls' day with Yunjin more of an exhausting performance than any kind of relief.

You laughed when she laughed, smiled when she took pictures, nodded along when she gushed about Heeseung and the shoes she wanted to buy next. You pretended. Pretended you weren't thinking about the way Jake flipped your dress like you were nothing but an object. Pretended your mind wasn't stuck on the mortifying second you caught Sunghoon not even looking at you.

You had tried.

And for a few moments, it almost worked until you were back alone in your dorm room, peeling the dress off like it was a brand you couldn't scrub off fast enough. The blue fabric lay crumpled at the foot of your bed, a mocking reminder of everything you wanted to forget.

You sat on the floor in front of your bed, knees pulled up to your chest, the textbook you were supposed to be reading long abandoned beside you. The words wouldn't sink in. Your brain was too loud, too crowded with shame. You couldn't stop replaying it, Jake's smirk, Yunjin's half-assed defense that reminded of when you were younger and her mum would make her play with you, Sunghoon's nothingness.

Your phone buzzed beside you. You didn't even think before reaching for it, needing any kind of distraction. It was a message from Jake's private instagram.

smjyn: you should let me fuck you in that blue dress, baby girl.

You stared at the screen, the bile rising in your throat so fast it nearly choked you. For a moment, you couldn't even breathe, then you were typing before you could stop yourself, your fingers moving too fast, too angry.

you: kill yourself.

You hit send, your heart hammering painfully against your ribs, the aftershock making your hands tremble. Jake didn't reply. You wished that was the end of it, you wished the night would just swallow you whole, let you sink into the silence, into the smallness you couldn't seem to shake off lately.

You tried to study. Opened the textbook again, blinked at the words until your eyes blurred. Your phone buzzed, you didn't want to look, every part of you screamed not to. But you did anyway and this time, it wasn't Jake.

It was from Sunghoon.

The username from the account you had endlessly stalked, made your stomach drop, made your fingers clench tighter around your phone. You had never texted before. He had never even looked at you like you existed, the message was short, almost careless.

parksgh: don't let jake get to you. he's just fucking around

You read it once, then again, and again. Your heart was lunging up into your throat, thudding painfully against your ribs. You hated how fast you moved to open it, hated how warm your cheeks got even though you knew better. You didn't know what to say back, you didn't even know if you should say anything back and it didn't even matter because by the time you thought about it long enough, he had already gone silent again.

Like the message itself had been a fluke. A mistake. A momentary lapse in his indifference. You set your phone down face-down on the carpet, your chest rising and falling too fast, your hands refusing to steady. You couldn't even remember what you were supposed to be studying anymore. All you could think about was the way his username looked lit up on your phone screen and how stupid you were for letting it mean something.

Your chest was tight, the weight of everything catching up with you all at once. It wasn't just the text; it was his name on your screen. You didn't know how to feel about it. He barely acknowledged you when you were in the same room, so why was he even texting you now?

You tried to resist but you couldn't help but type back.

you: okay, thank you

It felt like an awkward response, but you didn't know what else to say. It didn't even make sense that you were talking to him, you barely knew him and yet here you were, replying to his message like this was normal. You waited, breath held, for a reply, not sure what you were expecting but certainly not what came next.

parksgh: wyd

Your heart skipped a beat. What? He was asking what you were doing. Wyd?

You hadn't spoken before, he hadn't even looked at you in that way. So why was he reaching out now, like you were old friends? You sat frozen, staring at the words, your mind swirling in confusion.

The little bubble popped up again, a response almost immediately.

parksgh: you good?

Your brain stuttered as you tried to process it. This couldn't be real. Sunghoon—the guy who never said anything to you, the one who had barely looked at you, was texting you and not just some generic message, he was asking about you. You didn't know what to say, so you just typed something simple, something that wouldn't give anything away.

you: yeah, just tired

You waited, heart racing, unsure of what was going on. His responses kept coming. Short, blunt, and entirely unbothered.

parksgh: sounds like it, you been studying?

Another message came through as you were reading that one, making your head spin.

parksgh: you should get some sleep, it's kinda late no?

You didn't even know how to reply. He wasn't a friend, wasn't someone you were close with. Why was he being so... normal with you? But then, his next message made everything stop. A simple question, one that you couldn't even begin to understand.

parksgh: do you actually touch yourself while you think of me?

You froze. The air left your lungs. You couldn't breathe. The panic crept up your throat, your heart pounding violently as though it wanted to escape your chest. The words felt like a slap, hard and painful, as if your body was rejecting the sheer audacity of them. Your thoughts crashed together, the weight of what he was implying sinking in. You felt dizzy, like you were spiraling into something you couldn't control.

You couldn't—you couldn't—tell him the truth. That you had done what Jake had accused you of that night, that he was the star of all your wet dreams so instead you denied.  You scrambled to type your response, fingers shaking with the intensity of the emotions clawing at you.

you: no, no i don't. of course not.

You hit send almost too quickly, hoping the denial would settle your racing heart, but the seconds felt like hours as you waited for him to respond. Your hands were trembling, your breath shallow, as you tried to keep the panic at bay.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, there was nothing. You stared at your phone screen, willing the next message to come, but the minutes passed in silence. Your mind raced with confusion, frustration, and a strange, bitter emptiness. You tossed your phone aside, hoping the night would be over soon so you could just sleep and forget about everything, forget about him.

But of course, right when you were about to close your eyes, your phone buzzed. The message was simple, curt, and devastating.

parksgh: liar

You stared at the screen, your pulse still thundering in your ears. The word was a punch to your gut, sharp and cutting, like it was meant to tear something inside of you. You couldn't understand it, couldn't understand him but all you knew in that moment was that you were utterly, completely, lost.

You dropped your phone onto the floor like it burned.

You sat there for a minute, staring at your lap, feeling your face get hot, your chest get tight. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

Sunghoon had never said more than a casual hey when you'd bumped into him before. That was it, a polite, distant nod in a crowded hallway, a meaningless word tossed over his shoulder when Heeseung introduced you to the group once, barely even looking at you.

Now, he was accusing you of touching yourself while thinking about him? And calling you a liar when you denied it?

You scrubbed your hands over your face, willing the burning behind your eyes to go away. What the hell was happening?

You weren't close. You weren't even friends. You were just Yunjin's cousin, the quiet tagalong at parties you didn't want to be at, the awkward extra body in rooms you didn't belong in. Not the kind of girl Sunghoon would think twice about as Jake had said to you before. Definitely not the kind of girl Sunghoon would text.

But he had.

You leaned back against the frame of your bed, feeling the cold seeping through the concrete, feeling the ugly knot of confusion and shame twisting in your stomach.

You hated this. You hated the way your heart had raced when you saw his name light up your screen. You hated the way you couldn't even deny it properly, because somewhere, deep down, you had thought about him. Exactly the way Jake always teased but enough that the accusation had knocked the breath out of you and you hated, just hated how badly you wanted another message from him.

You pressed your palm against your chest like you could force your heart to slow down, it didn't help. Nothing helped, you genuinely felt sick.

You weren't the kind of girl this happened to. You didn't even know how to flirt, let alone handle whatever the hell this was. You were good, you were quiet, you kept your head down, you knew your place.

Still, you were sitting here, trembling like some desperate little thing just because Sunghoon, with his pretty face and cold eyes, decided to say a few reckless words to you. You didn't know what he wanted, didn't know if he was serious, if he was playing some fucked-up joke, if he even cared what his words would do to you.

Maybe he was bored, maybe he didn't even think twice about it.

Maybe you were just a stupid, convenient distraction for him. The thought made your throat close up, made the sting behind your eyes sharpen. You climbed up into your bed turning your head into the pillow, biting down on your lip hard, willing yourself not to cry over something so stupid, over a boy who probably didn't even remember texting you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to breathe.

You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this.

You just wanted to go back, before the art show, before the party, before the texts, before your heart learned how it felt to be pulled in two different directions at once.

You just wanted to be invisible again.

You knew should've gone the long way around the finance building, you should've kept your head down, kept walking, kept pretending like the weight of that unanswered text didn't cling to you like a second skin.

Instead you stood there, muttering under your breath about your asshole finance professor, flicking through your notes like you could understand what was in it despite being the one who wrote them all down, your hands curled tight around the notebook, trying to fight the rising frustration buzzing under your skin. The sky was cloudy, the wind sharp against your legs where your skirt ended.

You didn't even notice him at first, not until you glanced up and there he was. Across the street, leaning against the stone wall like he was born there, staring at you.

Blank face, hands in his pockets. Eyes so sharp they cut through the heavy air between you.

You froze, every instinct in your body screamed to run but it was already too late. Sunghoon pushed off the wall, crossed the street without looking, closed the space between you in a few long strides like he had every right to.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move and hated how your pulse quickened anyway.

He stopped too close. Close enough that you could smell the clean laundry scent of his hoodie. Close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

He didn't say anything at first. Just stared down at you like he was trying to figure out what you were made of.

And then, flat voice, barely louder than the wind:

"Why'd you ignore my last text?"

You blinked at him, like he was insane. Like you were insane for being the only one who thought this wasn't normal. You shifted your weight, glanced away, noticing how his body blocked your only exit, of course it did.

You hated how small you felt and you really hated the way his words hung between you, sticky and hot, like you owed him something.

You hated him.

"I didn't know you cared," you said finally, your voice sharper than you meant it to be. You crossed your arms, armor thin and cracking. "Since when do you even talk to me?"

He cocked his head to side, his eyes never leaving your face like he genuinely couldn't understand why you seemed mad. "Oh" He said lowly, "I thought you wanted my attention."

The breath you were holding punched out of your chest, making you take a step back but he followed, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to watch you unravel.

You didn't know what you hated more—how smug he looked or how badly you wanted to grab him by the front of that stupid hoodie and shake him until he made sense.

"I don't," you said, even though it sounded like a lie.

He tilted his head in the other direction, watching you, like you were something pathetic he'd found crumpled on the sidewalk, like you weren't even real.

You swallowed hard, the bitterness burning your throat.

He said nothing, just stood there, letting the silence stretch so taut between you it could slice you open. before you could snap, before you could say something you'd regret, he reached past you, flicked the ends of your sleeves with two fingers like he couldn't help himself.

And maybe you would've stood there forever, frozen in place, if Jake hadn't come strolling around the corner at the absolute worst moment, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, a smug smirk pulling at his mouth like he knew exactly what he was walking in on. He slings an arm around Sunghoon's shoulder like he's crashing a party—his usual stupid grin painted across his face, and an energy so casual it only makes things feel worse.

"Aw, am I interrupting?" he coos, eyes flicking between the two of you. "You look like you're about to cry, baby girl".

Your cheeks flame instantly. "Shut up, Jake."

He just laughs—God, you hate him—and leans in a little too close, voice low but far from discreet.

"Would she let me watch you fuck her, Hoon?" he said, all fake innocence, all ugly laughter, eyes trained on you but directing the question to Sunghoon as if you weren't there and you felt your entire body seize up, blood rushing to your face, stomach flipping painfully like you were about to be sick.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Jake was already bumping Sunghoon's shoulder, brushing past like this was normal, like this was just what they did.

You didn't even notice the way Sunghoon's mouth twitched, the way something dark and unspoken passed between them, because your brain refused to process it, refused to even consider it.

All you could think about was getting away, getting anywhere that wasn't here, before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You didn't see the way Sunghoon's eyes stayed on you long after you turned and fled.

You didn't know yet what they were really like.

* You should've stayed home, when the smell of opened beer cans hits your nose you realize you should've stayed home, stayed small, stayed out of the fucking way like you'd been doing for the last month, shrinking yourself into something harmless, something invisible, something that Jake and Sunghoon couldn't touch even if they wanted to.

But you didn't, against your better judgement let Yunjin drag you out, wide-eyed and whining about how you were turning boring, how Heeseung promised it would be chill and Jake and Sunghoon would be on their best behavior, how they swore they wouldn't even look at you and you believed it, like an idiot.

Now you're standing here in the middle of some shitty house party, abandoned, holding a lukewarm plastic cup like it's a fucking shield, feeling stupid, feeling trapped. The music is too loud, the floor is sticky under your shoes, someone's laughing way too hard behind you and it feels like the sound is aimed directly at your back.

You look around like maybe you'll see Yunjin and Heeseung, maybe you'll see a way out but they're already gone, already swallowed up by the night, already tearing at each other in some dark corner and you're left with nothing but your own pathetic loneliness.

You hate this, you hate how obvious you must look, you hate how you're gripping your cup so hard it's starting to crumple in your hand and you hate that you thought, even for a second, that you'd be safe here. You really try to suppress it but a part of you starts to build resentment towards your cousin.

You're just about to turn and leave, cut your losses and slip out the door like a coward, when you feel it. That horrible prickle at the back of your neck, the sensation of being watched, heavy and suffocating and familiar in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You already know who it might before you even turn around, only two options come to your mind and you can't even decide which one is worse but of course it's him.It's always him.

Sunghoon stands across the room, half in shadow, arms folded across his chest, head tilted like he's studying you again, not smiling, not frowning, just watching.

You freeze, panic blooming low in your stomach but look away quickly, pretending you didn't see him, pretending you don't care. You take a shaky sip from your cup, trying to check your phone like you have somewhere better to be.

You lie to yourself with every breath you take but it doesn't matter because he's already moving toward you.

Your heartbeat stutters painfully in your chest as he crosses the room, cutting through the crowd like he doesn't even see anyone else, like you're the only thing that matters.

You turn your body slightly, angling away from him, hoping he'll take the hint.

He doesn't.

He stops just in front of you, so close you can smell the clean, sharp scent of his cologne, can feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"Are you avoiding me?," Sunghoon asks voice indifferent like this is just some passing question he doesn't seem to want the answer to.

You swallow hard, throat dry and say nothing, even if you could speak, you don't know what to say. You don't know why he's even talking to you, why he's pretending you exist after ignoring you so effortlessly for so long.

"You look pretty." You blink. "What?" His voice is low, steady and as usual unemotional.

"Your dress is pretty and you look pretty in it, Y/N" He says so matter of factly and it almost sounds like he's telling you the sky is blue and it makes you scoff, turning your body away like maybe that'll help you breathe again. "Please don't start. I'm not doing this tonight." "Doing what?" he asks.

"You know what, Sunghoon. Why don't you and your guard dog just leave me alone?", you grit and instantly you swear you can see his mouth twitch like he's about to smile

He doesn't deny it, doesn't even argue, he takes one slow step forward. "Guard dog? You don't seem so mouthy when he's in front of you though" he almost taunts, clearly referring to how you lock up whenever Jake is close. The comment hits you so hard, you don't even notice you're against the wall now. His hand barely grazing your waist, his voice brushing your ear.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" Your breath hitches because there's no teasing tone in his voice not like the way Jake would say it just to fluster you and make your cheeks flush. He's genuinely asking if you want to kiss him. 

Sunghoon says it like he's asking a favor, like he's letting you decide.

"I—no. I mean—" you stammer, heart climbing into your throat. "I don't know what you're doing, but—"His lips brush your jaw and you immediately go quiet, your mind shifting between how this is the closest you've ever been to him and how this is also the longest conversation you've ever had.

You gasp—his hand is suddenly pressing flat against your stomach, holding you in place. "Sunghoon—"

"You don't sound like you want me to stop." You shake your head, eyes wide. "This isn't fair." "I didn't say it was."

His mouth trails lower, his breath is warm and while you're melting he's still expressionless, calm, like nothing about this affects him and maybe that's what finally breaks you.

So when he whispers, "Let me take you home," you're nodding because your body listens faster than your brain can protest.

Sunghoon unlocks his car without looking at you and gets in without waiting. You just followed him, numbly, helplessly, into his car, stomach churning and heart hammering so hard you thought you might be sick.

He drove like he kissed—silent, steady, like none of this meant anything. You sat there in the passenger seat, hands clenched in your lap, trying not to look at him, trying not to think about the way your body was still burning where he touched you, trying not to wonder why he hadn't even smiled once.

He drives in silence, not looking at you once, not when he's merging onto the freeway, not when you're stopped at a red light, not when you pull up to the underground parking lot of his building. He just turns off the engine and gets out.

You sit there for a second, paralyzed, watching his frame walk towards the elevator. Then you force yourself to move, force yourself to follow him inside, force yourself to pretend that this is fine, that you can survive this, that you won't fall apart the second he touches you again.

You don't even know why you do it, you don't know what you're hoping for or what you're trying to prove.

Maybe you just want to feel wanted or to hurt and maybe right now to you, it's the same thing.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. You half-expect him to push you against it, mouth hungry, hands impatient but instead, Sunghoon walks ahead, tossing his keys on the counter like this is routine, like you've done this a hundred times before.

You stand uselessly at the door, all stiff, unsure, heart climbing your ribs like it's trying to get away from you. He finally turns around, his eyes meet yours for the first time since the party but you can't help but look away, attempting to look around to observe the space

Sunghoon's apartment is exactly how you'd pictured it, it's big, cold and kind of empty. Everything is clean, clean to the point of sterile, all dark hardwood floors and concrete walls, black leather couch, black coffee table, flat screen bolted onto the wall.

No clutter, safe for the pile of PS5 games next to the console and a camera that's charging in the corner. Even the lights are dim, recessed into the ceiling, casting everything in sharp, ugly shadows.

There are no photos or trophies or notes on the fridge. Just space, silence and a daunting kind of emptiness. He doesn't say anything when you walk in or ask if you're okay, he just tugs you by the wrist down a short hallway into what you assume is his bedroom, like you're an obligation he's trying to get out of the way.

The room matches the rest of the apartment—gray walls, dark bedding, no signs of life. A single queen-sized bed in the center, neatly made with black sheets, a dresser, a nightstand and nothing else.

You hover awkwardly by the door, arms wrapped tight around yourself, not knowing what else to do. You want to ask him what you're doing here, or if this means anything to him at all, you want to ask him if you mean anything.

You don't, you don't say a word. He crosses the room in three long strides and crowds you against the wall again, just like he did at the party, pressing his body into yours, slotting his thigh between your legs.

You gasp, hands scrabbling at his chest. He kisses you, rougher this time, hungrier, but still there's that same frustrating emptiness radiating off him, like he's only half there.

It stings and you know it shouldn't but it does. You kiss him back anyway, desperate and clumsy, letting him push you toward the bed. You fall back against the mattress, bouncing once, heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands under your thighs and yanks you down to the edge of the bed, manhandling you like you weigh nothing.

You squeak in surprise, trying to suppress the fluttering in your stomach as presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. The touch sends a shudder through you, he doesn't seem to notice or if he does, he doesn't care, he just pushes your dress up higher, baring your thighs, your panties, the flushed vulnerability of you.

You try to press your legs together instinctively, but he's already settling between them, mouth dragging hot and slow along the sensitive skin. Your head drops back against the bed with a helpless whine. It's overwhelming, the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he's so calm while you're falling apart.

He kisses the crease of your thigh, breathes against the damp cotton of your underwear, licks a slow stripe over the center and you jerk, thighs trembling but he doesn't stop, he doesn't even flinch. It's almost clinical, the way he touches you , it's efficient, methodical but his mouth. God, his mouth.

His mouth might be the only part of him that's honest, it is frantic, almost desperate even. Devouring, like he's starving for you, like he's trying to say everything he's never said aloud, everything he can't bring himself to voice.

You fist his sheets, chest heaving, feeling tears sting at your eyes. It feels too good,  too much, like you're dying but also floating. You barely register it when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, baring you completely. You barely register it when he slides a finger through your folds, testing your wetness, humming low in his throat like he's pleased.

You only really come back to yourself when you feel the tip of his finger pressing against your entrance, when your whole body locks up in terror, when you squeeze your eyes shut like you're bracing for impact.

Sunghoon halts. You can feel it, the sudden tension in his body, the way his head lifts, the way he goes still between your legs. You crack your eyes open to find him staring up at you and his brows are drawn together, just slightly. You realize you're shaking and quite clearly crying. "Have you..." he starts, voice rougher than before, almost uncertain before he clears his throat. "Have you done this before?"

You shake your head, violently, squeezing your eyes shut again, humiliated beyond belief. You're so sure this is it, he's going to kick you out, he's going to laugh in your face and tell you he doesn't fuck virgins. So you brace for it and wait for the disgust, the mockery but it doesn't come. Instead, you feel his lips against your knee, soft and featherlight, like an apology he doesn't know how to give.

"Don't cry," he murmurs. Your breath shudders out of you and when your open your eyes, Sunghoon is still kneeling between your legs, still staring at you with that same unreadable expression, but there's something different now, something softer, something almost vulnerable.

He brushes his thumb over your thigh, gentle and you can't even hide your surprise that he doesn't move to get off you or tell you to leave.

He stays, like maybe, just maybe, you're not completely disposable after all. He's there looking at you in a way that has you trembling, gasping for air and blinking tears from your eyes, when he leans in closer, breath ghosting over the slick, swollen heat of you, his mouth brushing your inner thigh as he speaks. "So," he says, low and almost lazy. "What did you do when you touched yourself thinking about me?"

You choke on your own spit and you feel your whole body lock up again, shame burning hotter than your skin. "I— I didn't," you lie, immediately, stupidly. He huffs a laugh against your thigh, the first real sound he's made all night but it's not cruel, not that it's kind either. It's just amused. "Oh?" he murmurs, lips still trailing your inner thighs, "Then why are you shaking like that?"

You squeeze your eyes shut again, trying to disappear but he doesn't let you. He presses a kiss to the very edge of your hipbone, then another, closer and another.

"Tell me," he says, voice slipping lower, rougher. "Tell me what you did." You can't breathe, like the air has been completely stolen from your lungs. You can't lie either, not when he's looking at you like that, like he already knows and he's just waiting for you to admit it.

"I— I just—" you stammer, your voice breaking. "I just rubbed—" you curl in on yourself, mortified, "I rubbed my clit a little, that's all, I swear." You force the words out like a confession, like a sin and Sunghoon? He smiles. For the first time since you've known him, for the first time ever, he smiles at you. It's small, almost imperceptible but it's there and it knocks the air out of your lungs.

Like he's pleased, almost like he's proud of you. "Good girl," he says, and your heart almost explodes. You're still trying to process that, still trying to make sense of the sudden weightlessness in your chest, when he dips his head again, mouth closing over your clit without warning. You cry out, hips bucking up off the bed but he doesn't even flinch, he just pins you down, hands bruising against your thighs, licking you like he's been starving for it, like you're the only thing he's ever wanted and you sob, writhing, overwhelmed.

It's too much but it's not enough, you don't even know anymore.

He doesn't give you a second to breathe, to think, to ask him why he's doing this, what you are to him, why it feels like you're being torn apart and stitched back together all at once.

He just keeps going.

Keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, keeps teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

When he finally pulls his mouth off you, you're keening, fists twisting in the sheets, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. He lifts his head to look at you, face flushed, mouth slick, and mutters, almost to himself that you barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. "Need to get you ready."

You sob again when you feel him nudge a finger at your entrance. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for. "Please slow down, I—" He cuts you off by tapping your thigh, light but firm. "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he says, flat and emotionless, like he's just reminding you of the rules he never even told you in the first place.

Then he pushes inside, you gasp, a very raw, broken sound, as your walls clench instinctively around him. He groans low in his throat, but otherwise shows no reaction, like it's nothing, like you're nothing. You clutch at the sheets, tears burning your eyes again, but you don't tap out. You don't stop him, you can't because it's not like you want to anyway.

He works his finger in and out of you slowly, methodically, never looking up, never checking your face. You try to catch your breath, to calm down, to not cry harder but fail.

And Sunghoon doesn't stop, he just keeps going—steady and unflinching, like you're a problem he's determined to solve, like your pain and or pleasure isn't even real to him, like you're something he already owns but somehow, somehow, it still feels like the best thing anyone's ever given you.

He's relentless, barely even gives you a second to breathe, to think, to feel anything but the stretch of him working you open, one finger at first, slow and steady, ignoring every soft sob that falls from your lips.

You feel like you're drowning. The bed is too big, the room too cold, the walls are grey, the sheets are dark, the only light coming from the dim bedside lamp casting long shadows across the plain white walls, like he doesn't feel anything and maybe he doesn't and you're the idiot for expecting him to.

You dig your fingers into the sheets tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, trying not to sob out loud again. Trying not to embarrass yourself even more. Then you feel it, the slow, deliberate curl of his finger inside you.

You hiccup, chest spasming with another silent cry. Sunghoon clicks his tongue, sharp and soft at the same time. "Stop crying," he mutters, not looking up from between your thighs, it's almost bored, almost annoyed but there's something under it too, something you can't name.

You sniffle pitifully, nodding even though he's not looking at you, even though you don't think you could stop even if you tried. Then he shifts again, sliding his mouth back over your clit, and the heat of it makes you jolt. You mewl helplessly, high and broken, when he sucks harshly at the sensitive bud.

"Gonna add another," he mutters against you, voice low and unaffected, like he's just narrating, like you're not trembling beneath him. You barely have time to brace yourself before he's pushing a second finger inside. The burn is sharp, almost unbearable, and your whole body arches off the bed involuntarily, you're  gasping, panting, trying to wriggle away from the overwhelming sensation, but he just presses your hips down, holding you in place like it's nothing.

You whimper, the sound muffled against your fist when you shove it into your mouth to stop yourself from making more noise. You don't even realize you're babbling until you hear your own voice cracking through the air, "Sunghoon, Sunghoon—"

You're not even thinking, you're just saying his name like a prayer, like it might save you. For a second, he stills, before softly, curiously, he murmurs, "Yeah?" and it's he thinks you're trying to talk to him, like he doesn't even realize it's just moaning.

Your whole face burns hotter, your body trembling harder, you shake your head frantically, tears dripping onto the pillow.

You don't know what you're saying anymore, you don't know anything at all, except for him, his mouth, his fingers, the way he's filling you, the way he's making your body light up in ways you've never known it could.

He curls his fingers again, deeper this time, deliberate and suddenly you see stars behind your eyelids. You cry out, bucking your hips up against his mouth, sobbing out another desperate, broken whimper of his name.

And he gets it then, you can feel it in the way his mouth curves into a smirk against you, the way he presses in deeper, harder, finding that spot again, hitting it relentlessly until you're gasping, twitching, clenching around his fingers so hard it hurts. Your whole body's on fire and you're so close you can't even think. He's still so calm, so detached, like he's just...studying you, watching you fall apart with that same unreadable look on his face.

You don't even realize you're crying again until he lifts his head, looking up at you with a frown. "You're so sensitive," he says, almost wonderingly. "You gonna cum already?" You shake your head, sobbing harder, even as your hips grind desperately against his fingers. He huffs a soft laugh under his breath, not mocking, just...satisfied.

And then when he's lowering his mouth again, sucking harshly on your clit while his fingers fuck into you deep and slow. You don't stand a chance, you come undone with a wrecked cry, shattering under him, your whole body locking up and then convulsing, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

He doesn't stop or even slow down. He works you through it, fingers deep, mouth unrelenting, until you're gasping, shaking, tears flooding down your cheeks from the overstimulation and only then—only then, does he finally pull back.

You feel so empty when he does, you almost sob again, he sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand — looking completely unaffected while you lay there ruined, shaking, broken on his bed.

You cover your face with your hands, humiliated, you don't even know what you're crying about anymore. The pain? The pleasure? The way it all feels so impossibly hollow when he's looking at you like that?like he's still a thousand miles away even when he's inside you.

"Don't cry," he says again, voice almost too soft to be real but he doesn't reach for you, doesn't comfort you or say anything else.

He just sits there, watching and waiting like he doesn't know what to do with you now that he's broken you but then you feel him lift off the bed and you hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing.

You're alone now and you don't know how long you lay there, body trembling, cheeks sticky with tears drying into itchy trails down your skin. Minutes pass, maybe even hours cause it feels endless.

The room is too quiet without him, so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat, your own ragged breathing. The ache between your legs hasn't faded. It throbs there, humiliating and hot, like a bruise you can't stop pressing on. You stare up at the ceiling. You wonder if this is it, if he's just going to leave you like this. Used up, humiliated and forgotten.

You try to move, but everything feels too heavy, you feel stupid for thinking it might've meant something different when he touched you and you feel even stupider for still wanting more.

The door opens again, making whole body tenses on instinct. You don't sit up because in reality you can't. You listen to the soft footfalls across the room then the mattress dips beside you.

You flinch, you can't help it then something presses into your arm, you blink and look. It's a water bottle, unopened and cold. You glance up at him, confused, uncertain but he's not looking at you. He's staring blankly at the floor, legs spread casually, one arm draped over his bent knee.

You fumble to unscrew the cap, hands still shaking, and take a small sip, the water almost choking you. The silence is suffocating. You don't know why you're surprised when he breaks it first. When he turns his head just slightly, eyes flickering to you, dark, unreadable and says, almost absent-mindedly,

"You want more?"

Your breath catches and you stare at him, wide-eyed, like you must've heard wrong but then you see his mouth twitch. The tiniest hint of a curios smile, genuine like he really doesn't know the answer.

Your heart stutters painfully as you set the water down on the nightstand with clumsy fingers.

Your throat is dry even though you just drank and you nod.

Barely, a small, scared movement.

He watches you steadily for a moment then he tips his head slightly, like he's trying to get a better look at you. "You sure?" his voice is lower now, rougher but still that same detached calm but something else too, threading underneath.

Something you want so desperately to be real and it makes you nod again, a little firmer this time because don't trust your voice to come out right.

He stares at you a second before moving slowly.

He stands up, shrugging his t-shirt off in one smooth motion, leaving him in shirtless with just his jeans. Your heart hammers against your ribs, panic and anticipation fighting for space in your chest. You watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing them down his hips with a casualness that almost makes you dizzy.

He's already half-hard, think and heavy between his thighs. You realize, distantly, that you're gawking so you quickly jerk your gaze away, cheeks burning.

You hear a soft, breathless chuckle from above you not mean and then he's crawling back onto the bed, over you, caging you in with his body.

You feel so small beneath him like prey. He's looking at you differently now, not in the normal cold and empty way, he's looking at you with hunger now and it makes you shiver.

"You sure?" he asks again, voice barely a murmur this time, lips brushing your temple.

You nod frantically, squeezing your eyes shut. "Say it," he says, tone still maddeningly calm. "Need to hear you." Your voice is a whisper, a plea, a confession. "I want you," you breathe. "I want more."

Something in him finally cracks. You feel it in the way his whole body shifts closer, the way his mouth finds yours in a kiss that's nothing like before. His tongue slides against yours, filthy and slow, and you whimper into his mouth without meaning to.

He kisses you like he wants to consume you as if he needs to and when he pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, he's panting. For the first time tonight, he doesn't look unreadable, wrecked and hungry. He shifts, reaching between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance — the swollen, aching place between your legs still slick from his mouth.

He rubs the head of his cock against you, slow, deliberate, pulling another pathetic whine from your throat. You feel him smile against your cheek. "You're so wet," he murmurs, nudging your thighs wider with his knees, not even asking, just taking. You feel the blunt head of him pressing against you and it's too much, it's not enough, you can't tell which.

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear. "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he reminds you, voice rougher now. You nod frantically again because you don't want him to stop, you just want everything he's willing to give. Even if it's nothing real or even if it feels you emptier than before.

He doesn't say anything when he pushes in. Doesn't shush you, doesn't kiss you, doesn't tell you it's okay. He kind of just watches, like he's waiting for something, like you're some sort of test he's trying to pass. The stretch is unbearable, sharp and hot and you're scrabbling at his shoulders before he's even halfway in, breathing fast and panicked against his neck.

You hear yourself whispering, wait wait wait wait but he's already slowing, already stopping, his hands bracketing your hips steady and firm like he expected this because he knew you'd break apart underneath him. You feel him breathe against your temple, slow and even. He's still hard, still not fully inside you but he's giving you the space to catch up even if he looks utterly unbothered doing it. "Relax," he says after a beat. "You're making it worse."

You nod frantically against him, squeezing your eyes shut, willing your body to loosen, willing the burn to subside. It takes a minute, maybe longer and he waits like he has all the time in the world.

Not stroking your hair or murmuring sweet things like you imagined the person you'd lose your virginity to would do, none of that. He's just existing above you, warm and solid, until finally you whimper, nodding again, giving him permission to move.

He pushes in slower this time but you still cry out, it's too much, too much, you feel so impossibly full but he hushes you, a soft sound, almost absent-minded, like he's trying to focus. You claw at his shoulders, needing something to hold onto, needing something real while your body stretches and aches around him. You hear him swear under his breath when he bottoms out, low and strained, like he's barely keeping himself together.

He stays there, buried deep, not moving. You don't realize you're crying again until he shifts just enough to catch your face in his hand, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Still with me?" he mutters, thumb brushing your wet cheek almost carelessly. You nod, trembling, wrecked and he gives a low breath of a laugh, amused but not mean. "Good girl," he says, more to himself than to you and it makes your heart seize painfully in your chest.

Good girl.

You cling to it like a lifeline.

He moves then.

Slow at first, dragging out almost all the way before pressing back in and it's overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you, the stretch and slide and pressure so much you can't breathe properly. You can hear the slick, embarrassing sounds your bodies make, can hear the broken little noises spilling from your own mouth. You bury your face in his shoulder, too humiliated to meet his eyes. He fucks you in slow, grinding thrusts, deep and steady, like he's trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him.

You're babbling something, you don't even know what, little pleading sounds that don't form real words. You hear him murmur something against your hair, so soft you almost miss it. "Fuck," he mutters. "You're so fucking tight." You whimper at the words, at the ragged sound of his voice, at the way he sounds affected for once, not calm, not detached, but wrecked. He groans low in his throat when you clench around him by accident, and his hips stutter for the first time.

"You're not doing it on purpose, right?" he mutters, almost teasing. "You're just that desperate, huh?" You shake your head frantically, sobbing against his skin, too overwhelmed to even think straight. You hear him laugh again, a breathless, disbelieving sound and then his mouth finds your shoulder, your neck, teeth scraping lightly. Your nails dig into his back, desperate, and he lets you, he lets you cling to him, lets you leave marks on his skin.

At some point, you don't know when, he finds a rhythm that brushes something devastatingly good inside you. Your whole body jerks when he hits it and you cry out, high and sharp.

He stiffens, then slowly, he pulls back and thrusts into that same spot again. Harder and deeper. You keen, the sound raw and broken, he does it again and again. Until you're sobbing into his neck, clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping you alive, you can't seem to stop moaning his name. You don't even realize you're doing it until you feel him smirk against your throat.

"Yeah?" he says, almost amused. "Is that what you like?" You nod frantically, tears leaking out the corners of your eyes. "You're so fucking sensitive," he murmurs, almost admiring. "Didn't even know girls like you existed."

You want to ask what he means. You want to ask what kind of girl he thinks you are but you can't speak, you can barely think only feel. It feels too much, too good, too raw. He keeps fucking into that spot, relentless, steady, unforgiving, until you're arching beneath him, your whole body trembling, your voice breaking on desperate cries. You cum with a strangled sob, clenching around him so tight he curses, low and vicious. You shake and shudder, tears spilling hot and fast, still clutching at him like you'll fall apart without him but doesn't stop moving or give you a second to catch your breath. He keeps fucking you through it, slow but deep, grinding against that sensitive place inside you until you're gasping and whimpering and scratching at his back without meaning to.

You can't take it, your whole body feels too raw, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. You tap frantically at his shoulder, voice breaking. "S-Stop— please—"

He stills immediately, breathing hard above you. You feel him pull out slowly, carefully, and you collapse back against the sheets, boneless and trembling. There's a pause and you barely register him looking down at you, at the spots of blood smeared between your thighs, at the stains on his sheets.

He sighs.

"You bled on my bed," he mutters, like it's mildly annoying and it makes you flinch, humiliated, curling in on yourself but then before you can sink too deep into the shame, you feel him brush a hand over your knee. Gentle, almost absent-minded that it makes you blink up at him through tear-blurred eyes. He looks exhausted, disheveled and a little dazed. His thumb traces circles into your skin, not looking at you.

"You did good," he says quietly, almost endearingly. Then, louder, more to himself than to you — he mutters, "First time... fuck."

He leans back on his palms where he's sat at the edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his hair, looking genuinely thrown off for the first time. You don't know what to say, you didn't even know if you should say anything at all so you just lie there, aching and ruined, staring up at the ceiling like maybe you'll wake up and this will all have been some fever dream.

But you don't wake up, because this is real and he's real. Your whole body feels heavy, used up, raw and your thighs are sticky, the sheets beneath you damp and crumpled. The room smells like sweat and sex and something softer, something sweeter—him, you think. Sunghoon moves around the room in that quiet, efficient way he does everything, tugging the blanket up over you, finding the bottle of water from earlier and cracking it open but he doesn't look at you while he works. You think, distantly, stupidly, that he looks more real like this, less like the untouchable version of him you built in your head and more like a boy with messy hair, bitten lips and fingerprints pressed into his hips.

He comes back to the bed, crouches at the edge, and presses the bottle into your hand. You almost drop it cause your fingers are too shaky but he catches it, wrapping his hand around yours until you can hold it steady. "Drink," he says simply. You sip, obedient, trying to focus on how it tastes metallic now that it's lukewarm. You don't realize he's still touching you until you feel his thumb stroking over the inside of your wrist, absent and repetitive, in a way that seems like he doesn't even know he's doing it. He watches you drink, then takes the bottle from you when you're done and tosses it onto the floor with a soft thunk.

There's a weird, heavy silence between you, not uncomfortable, just thick with something you don't have the words for. He shifts back onto the bed, sitting with one knee drawn up, shirt sticking to his chest. He clears his throat once, like he's thinking through what he wants to say. "You want me to drive you home?" he asks eventually, making you blink up at him, throat dry even thought you just had water. You're not sure what you expected him to say, something colder, maybe. Something meaner but his voice is weirdly careful, almost... tentative.

He scratches the back of his neck. "I live with Jake," he mutters, like it's some necessary disclaimer. You realize, a beat too late that it's not about him hiding you. Something in you convinces yourself that this is his own weird way protecting you. From Jake and from the teasing you know would come if Jake figured this out.

It's almost enough to make you cry again but you bite it back, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You're about to shake your head to tell him no, it's fine, you'll call a cab, you don't want to be his problem anymore but then you realize he's now holding you. Somewhere in the middle of everything, somewhere between the water and the words, he'd pulled you against him, tucked you into his side and you didn't even notice.

His arm is around your shoulders, warm and steady. His hand is rubbing slow circles into your bare thigh, not sexual just steady and it knocks the air right out of your lungs. You blink up at him, wide-eyed and wrecked, he catches your stare and raises an eyebrow, that unreadable almost-smirk twitching at his mouth.

"What?" he says, voice rough and low. You shake your head, bury your face into his chest instead, trying to hide the way you're falling apart all over again. Trying to hide how much this, the tiny stupid casual tenderness of it is undoing you faster than anything else tonight.

He keeps holding you, stroking your back now and it's all the gentleness you wanted in the start, It feels so good, you don't realize you've fallen asleep, maybe it was somewhere between his hand tracing slow lines up and down your thigh or when you curled deeper into his chest, hiding from the world outside the four walls of his room.

You don't know but you wake up to the feeling of him shifting, gathering you against him, moving you like you're something breakable. You blink up at him, dazed and disoriented. "C'mon," he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I'm driving you back." The way he says it so definitively has you thinking there was never a version of this story where he didn't

You don't remember getting dressed cause he helps you, pulling your dress down over your hips, smoothing it out like it matters if it's wrinkled now. He doesn't touch you wrong or linger where he shouldn't, he just gets you ready, like you're something he needs to take care of.

The drive back is nothing like the drive to his apartment.

The first time, it had been silent, heavy even, your heart slamming itself against your ribs with every mile closer you got to something inevitable. Now it's quieter, somehow, still tense and thick but not scary. Not when he keeps glancing over at you, real glances this time, not just bored flickers, like he's making sure you're still breathing.

"You okay?" he asks when the stoplight stretches a little too long. His hand settles on your thigh without even thinking, warm, steady, thumb stroking small arcs into your skin. You nod without thinking, too cause you don't trust your voice and his jaw tightens like he doesn't believe you but he doesn't press, he just squeezes your thigh gently, keeping it there, like he needs the contact to stay grounded.

The city blurs by outside the window, neon smears, headlights, the occasional drunken laughter of a group stumbling home from the bars. You stare out at it and try not to think about the fact that his hand hasn't moved and that he's still touching you like it's second nature now.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he cuts the engine without a word and climbs out. Your brain can barely register that you didn't give him an address but yet here you are. You fumble with the door handle and your seatbelt, still half-dazed, but he's already there, opening it for you, offering a hand you don't take because you're too stunned to move. You look up at him and can't help but sense there's something different about him now, something softer around the edges, something raw. "Text me," he says, low and serious, an order. "And..." he hesitates, jaw clenching, like the next part hurts to say. "Don't cry again."

It's almost desperate, almost as if it does something to him, seeing you fall apart. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. You're standing there on the sidewalk, small and ruined and still half in love with a boy who doesn't even know how much damage he's doing. He watches you for a second longer, waiting, like he's giving you the chance to say no, tell him to fuck off and end whatever this is before it starts but you don't.

You just nod, biting your lip so hard it stings. Without another word, he's backing away, climbing into his car, pulling off into the night with the windows down and the music low and his hand still flexing like he misses the feel of you under his palm.

You don't text him or even think about texting him, you genuinely try not to. You bury your phone under your pillow, your backpack, sometimes even your bed, as if that'll keep the temptation away. As if you're not sitting there, curled up in bed with the covers pulled up over your head, thinking about his hand on your thigh during the drive back. Thinking about the way he opened the door for you like it mattered. Thinking about the way he said don't cry again like it physically hurt him to see it.

It doesn't help, none of it does so much so that you spiral, slow, inevitable all into something heavy and gray and miserable. Yunjin notices immediately, of course she does, she keeps knocking on your door, calling you, threatening to break in if you don't answer her. She even gets Heeseung to come at one point, she probably told him something frantic enough that you have to lie through your teeth and tell them you're just sick or tired or busy.

Anything but the truth.

You don't leave your dorm except for class and even then, you barely make it out the door, trudging across campus like a ghost.

Until, three days later, you drag yourself out to a small cafe off campus, needing a change of scenery, somewhere quiet to pretend you're still a person. You've been there for maybe an hour, laptop open, notes spread ever, highlighter caps scattered across the table then you feel it.

A presence, a shadow falling over your table that makes you look up and there Sunghoon stands, different hoodie, same unreadable face but there's something in his eyes, something sharper, something frustrated, something almost desperate when he says, "I told you to text me." You blink at him, heart slamming into your ribs so hard you swear you hear it. He stares down at you for a second longer, shoving his hands into his pockets like he's physically stopping himself from reaching for you.

Then, deadpan, he says "Don't you wanna have sex again?" You just stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing but no words forming. The cafe noise blurs around you and you shove your chair back roughly and stand up, your heart hammering, your hands shaking, your voice raw when you snap at him "I'm tired of being confused."

He blinks, actually looks caught off-guard but you're not finished. "What do you even want, Sunghoon?" You're almost yelling not caring if people are looking cause now you just need to know. You need to stop being this wreck, this ruin, this stupid girl still hoping for softness from someone who only ever gives you pain.

Sunghoon doesn't answer right away, he just looks at you, unmoving like he's thinking or deciding something. And then, so soft you almost don't hear it, he says "You." Your breath catches as your whole body goes rigid. For half a second, half a heartbeat, you believe him, you believe he means it Until he tilts his head slightly, voice dropping, eyes darkening as he adds "In my bed again." It just feels like you've been punched hard and straight through the chest. Your hands tremble at your sides as you stare at him—at this boy you thought you hated, thought you craved, thought you needed and you realize; You don't know him at all.

You're about to walk away, already trying to gather up your things into your bag, you're thinking about how you'll shove past him, out the door, back into the rain-slicked street but then Sunghoon leans in. So close you can feel the heat of him bleeding into you. His voice lowers like something rougher and raspier, like it's been clawing its way out of his throat. "I meant it," he says. "You."

You halt, you hate him, you hate him so much but he's still leaning in, dipping his head down slightly like he's confessing something dark, something private, like he's handing you a piece of him, bloody and raw. "You don't get it," he says, almost whispering now. "Nobody's ever been like that. In my bed." Your heart cracks, the worst part is you believe him, you believe he's telling the truth but there's still that sharp, selfish edge to it, that gleam in his eyes like he's not just confessing, he's coaxing, begging even.

"Let me have you like that again," he says, and his mouth is so close to yours it almost feels like a kiss. It's almost sweet, if not for the way he says it—half desperate, half manipulative, like he thinks those are the words you want to hear and he knows you'll fall for it. Maybe you already have because your body is betraying you, shivering, leaning closer, your fingers curling into fists at your sides so you don't grab him by the hoodie and kiss him first.

You want to hurt him back but all you can do is whisper, broken "You don't even know what you're asking for." Sunghoon just looks at you, silent and still, a flash of something almost like regret in his eyes but it's gone too fast for you to catch it properly. His fingers twitch in his hoodie pocket, like he wants to reach for you and doesn't know if he's allowed.

He hesitates, for the first time, he hesitates, before he speaks again "Let me learn" and it guts you because you're stupid enough to want to believe it. You're stupid enough to want him even when you know better. If you weren't so stupid you would have noted the amount of chances you had to turn away and tell him no but you don't, not when he's helping you pack up your things or guiding you to his car, not when he's pulling you in for desperate kisses at stoplights, you don't say no because the part of you that wants him is bigger and anything else and because you're stupid.

The memory of how you got here is a haze, you remember him frantically pulling off your sweater as soon as you walked in through the door, unlike the first time you were in his apartment and he waited to take you into his room, it's all so frantic, the heat of his mouth on your neck, the way his hands tug at your skirt frustratingly before he's grunting against your mouth like he's telling you to do it and you do, You remember him picking you up off the ground making your legs instinctively wrap around him as he holds you up effortlessly, taking you to his room again and placing you on the bed more gently.

You can't help but notice how his room looks a bit different in the daylight but your thoughts about it are thrown out the window when you feel him pull your panties down your legs and stare at where you're wet for him. His mouth is just devouring as devouring as it was the first time, it's so skillful, it has you arching instantly, grabbing at his hair and bucking your hips up to meet his mouth.

You don't hear the door open or even sense someone is in the room until his voice cuts through the dim air like a blade.

"Well, well. Look at you."

Your eyes fly open to meet Jake's, he's leaning against the wall, jaw clenched, arms crossed, eyes dark but he's not mad. No, he's smiling, slowly and cruelly like watching the punchline of a joke he told hours ago finally land. "Guess I was right about you."

Your hand flies to Sunghoon's shoulder, tapping at him panicked, breathless. "Hoon—Sunghoon—stop. He's here—" But Sunghoon doesn't even glance back. He just coos, soft and low. "It's okay," he murmurs, almost fondly. "Ignore him." Ignore him? Ignore Jake standing there, wolf-eyed and grinning, hands shoved into his pockets like he's about to stay a while.

You try to pull away again, one last desperate wriggle of your hips but Sunghoon is relentless. His mouth finds your clit again, his hands pressing your thighs wide, pinning you open like a butterfly.

Pinned, shivering, exposed and Jake fucking laughs under his breath. "Desperate little thing," he says, almost sweetly. "You like this, huh? Like having an audience?" Your throat closes up and your heart punches against your ribs.

You squeeze your eyes shut humiliated, so humiliated but Sunghoon's tongue doesn't falter, his fingers don't slip. He's focused like you're the only thing in the world, like Jake's presence is meaningless. Maybe it is. Maybe all that matters is the way Sunghoon is pulling these pathetic little sounds out of you, wet, broken and soft.

Jake comes closer because you feel his heat at your side, hear the way he crouches down, mouth grazing your ear when he speaks  "Go on, pretty baby," he whispers. "Cum for him." You sob, you can't help it and Sunghoon's tongue just flattens harder, swirling, ruthless.

Jake hums approvingly.

"Yeah, that's it. Cum like a good girl for your beloved Sunghoon." Your whole body snaps tight and you fall apart like he ordered it, helpless, degraded and soaked. You cum hard, gasping, clutching at the sheets, your hips jerking up into Sunghoon's mouth like you're chasing it, like you need it to survive. It's pathetic; it's degrading and it's the best thing you've ever felt. Sunghoon doesn't even slow down through it, just keeps licking, gentle now, coaxing the last little spasms out of you until you're shaking, whimpering, completely broken open.

Jake just watches, smirking.

You don't even realize you're shaking until you try to sit up, your hands are trembling and the sheets are damp under your thighs, your whole body still pulsing from the devastating orgasm Sunghoon wrung out of you like it was nothing.

You don't even have time to gather yourself or to cry or scream or run, before Sunghoon is shifting, sitting back on his heels between your spread thighs. "Let Jake take your top off," he says, all flat and dispassionate like he's asking you to hand him your notebook in class.

Your mouth falls open and you blink at him—once, twice—because surely you didn't hear that right."No," you croak, voice ragged with confusion, shame and heartbreak. "What the fuck—" You glance between them, voice rising. "You guys are fucking weird." You yank at the sheets, trying to cover yourself but Sunghoon doesn't even flinch. Jake that's still smirking devilishly just shifts closer to the bed, looming over you and Sunghoon? God, Sunghoon just tilts his head, looking at you. That same unreadable stare, dark and heavy and burning but this time there's something different there. Something that reaches out and claws at you even as you recoil. Not affection or cruelty, just want, so intense it's borderline unbearable.

Jake's gaze is different, lighter, crueler, like he's seeing you as something to be played with but Sunghoon—Sunghoon is hungry. You feel it crackling in the air, feel it vibrating against your skin and God, you hate yourself, because your body is betraying you again — your head nodding before you even realize it, weak, desperate, aching.

Jake grins, sharp and wolfish—the second you do. "Good girl," he breathes, wasting no time, before you can regret it, his fingers slip under the hem of your flimsy top, tugging it over your head, baring you completely, safe for your bra that he immediately discards and his mouth is on you immediately, hot and slick and brutal.

Sucking at the soft flesh of your tit, biting down just enough to make you whimper. You gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, not pushing him away or pulling him close either, just clutching him, trying to hold yourself together. It's too much, their hands, their mouths, the heavy stare of Sunghoon's black eyes like he's drinking you in.

You can't catch your breath and Sunghoon's patience wears thinner by the second. You can feel it in the way his hands slide up your thighs, the way he spreads you open again without a word, the way his cock twitches against his thigh as he watches Jake mark you up.

He's done waiting, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, not even bothering to slow down, not even pretending to give you time to adjust. "Move," he mutters to Jake, a single word, sharp-edged. Jake laughs against your skin but he obeys, pulling back just enough for Sunghoon to settle between your thighs. You barely have time to whimper before Sunghoon is there, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, not cruel but not careful either, sliding in with slow, brutal finality.

You gasp high and broken—your nails digging into the sheets. Jake's mouth finds your ear, murmuring filth. Sunghoon just fucks into you like you're a thing he's owed, stretching you open on his cock and you clench on him, your hips jerking with every punishing thrust, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes and soaking the sheets beneath you. Your head is spinning, your chest heaving, every nerve ending raw and oversensitized.

You think if he fucks you any harder, you'll just shatter apart and you almost want him to. You almost want him to break you completely so you'll stop feeling this ache, this desperate, hollow yearning for something he refuses to give you. Your eyes screw shut, your fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sheets and it's all just white noise.

Until one particularly brutal thrust has your whole body jerking and your eyes fly open on instinct and that's when you see it. Through the blurry haze of your tears, your vision sharpening in short, frantic bursts. You see Sunghoon not just fucking you but kissing Jake, in fact it's not just kissing, it's devouring. Sunghoon's mouth is slanted hard over Jake's, his tongue forcing its way between his lips, messy and aggressive. Jake is grinning into the kiss like he's won, one hand tangled in the back of Sunghoon's hair, the other lazily tweaking his own nipple through his t-shirt, like he's savoring the way Sunghoon is practically fucking his mouth too.

You whimper without meaning to, your body clenching helplessly around Sunghoon's cock at the sight because it's so much, too much even. Sunghoon driving into you, Sunghoon moaning into Jake's mouth, Jake playing with himself, Jake smirking like he knows exactly what this is doing to you and somewhere deep down, even through the pleasure flooding your body, even through the slick obscene noises filling the room, you know now what you hadn't let yourself believe before. That this thing between Jake and Sunghoon—whatever it is—It's more.

They're not just friends, they can't be, not with the way Sunghoon is gripping Jake's jaw, the way he's pulling those filthy little noises out of him like he knows exactly how. Your stomach twists, sick and overwhelmingly turned on. You're so close again, you can feel it, your whole body trembling on the precipice of another orgasm, Sunghoon's thrusts getting sloppier, deeper, his low grunts spilling out of him like he can't even hold them back anymore.

"Jake," Sunghoon suddenly groans all wrecked and desperate "I'm—" Before you can even understand what's happening, Jake is moving, quick and decisive. He shoves Sunghoon back by the hips, pulling his cock out of you with a wet, messy noise that has you gasping at the sudden emptiness. Your legs twitch, your pussy instinctively clenching down around nothing and then you watch, horrified as Jake drops to his knees in front of Sunghoon like it's normal, like it's natural and wraps his lips around Sunghoon's flushed, dripping cock without hesitation.

Sunghoon moans, really moans. Loud, guttural, shameless, the kind of sound he never gave you, the kind of sound you ached to pull out of him. Jake hums smugly around him, looking right at you, his eyes sharp and gleaming with amusement.

Like he's mocking you, almost daring you to say something. To admit how much you wish it were you making Sunghoon fall apart like that. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands fisting in the ruined sheets, every inch of you burning with humiliation and confusion and sick, aching need.

Sunghoon stands there, looking disheveled and flushed, his skin slick with sweat, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his swollen mouth. Jake wipes his lips with the back of his hand but instead of stepping away, instead of giving you a moment to think, he's reaching for you.

His hand tangles in your hair firm and he's dragging you forward, toward him. You don't even resist, too stunned, too broken open already, too ruined by the heavy tension that wraps around the room like a noose and then he's kissing you, messy and wet, so incredibly obscene. You whimper into his mouth when you taste it—Sunghoon's lingering arousal still coating Jake's tongue, thick and salty and wrong. You should pull away, shove him off and spit it out you don't because Jake is holding you there, mouth slanted over yours, his free hand cradling the back of your head so you can't escape the way the taste spreads and soaks into your own tongue and somewhere in the blurred confusion of it all, you realize you're kissing back and obeying when he pulls away and looks at you with those sharp eyes, telling you to swallow.

Your knees buckle, but Jake catches you easily, turning you towards Sunghoon. "You were such a good girl for me," he says under his breath, incongruous with the essence of him still coating your lips. "You'd be even better if you let Jake fuck you too." You glance up at him through a blink, stunned, teetering on the edge of sanity, knowing exactly what you should say.

No. No. No.

But it's like there's a part of your brain wired exclusively for him, for the soft cadence of his voice, the weight of his hand on the curve of your waist, the promise of his approval, so nod weak and trembling, before your mind even finishes forming the thought.

Jake grins, triumphant and he's moving immediately, not wasting a second, grabbing your hips and turning you around like you're just something to be positioned, something to be used. "You're going to let me fuck you? After all that mouthing off? Telling me to kill myself?" he taunts, "What was it she called me again, Hoon? Your guard dog?" he adds, running his hand down your back and pressing down so you're perfectly arched for him.

You can see Sunghoon sitting back against the headboard now, watching you with lazy, half-lidded eyes. Jake's hands are rough as he spreads you open, humming low under his breath when he sees just how wet you still are. It's shameful, the way your body betrays you, throbbing and slick and eager.

"Fuck," Jake mutters, almost to himself, "Sunghoon really did break you in, huh?" You hear Sunghoon laugh, smug but you don't dare lift your head to look at him. You're too busy squeezing your eyes shut, fists curling tight in the sheets, bracing yourself for whatever's about to come.

And when it does come, when Jake finally pushes into you, it's so different, he's not as patient. He's rougher, filling you quick and deep, grunting under his breath when your body clenches down instinctively. "Still so tight," he breathes, reverent, like he can't fucking believe it. You whimper, your arms shaking, your body arching more without your permission, as he starts to move. Long, deep thrusts that make your back curve, your mouth fall open in helpless little gasps and all the while Sunghoon is watching.

In a silent possessive way, you can feel like a brand burning into your skin. You know you're not supposed to want this, you're not supposed to like the way Jake is fucking you, hard and fast and unrelenting while Sunghoon watches like you're putting on a show just for him.

Your body doesn't care, it's already chasing the next brutal, devastating high and Jake aids it, fucking you with sharp, brutal thrusts that knock little gasps and whines from your throat without mercy. Each snap of his hips punches forward into that spot inside you that feels too raw, the overstimulation crackling up your spine like electricity.

It's nothing like how Sunghoon fucked you. Where Sunghoon was calculated, almost teasing in the way he stretched you open, Jake feels like punishment, like he's trying to split you in half just because he can. His pace didn't slow once, not even when Sunghoon shifted closer, not even when the softest brush of lips pressed against your temple like a secret only you were supposed to feel. If anything, it got worse. Harder, deeper, like he was trying to fuck the kiss right off your skin.

And it was so stupid, it was so stupid, because your body betrayed you instantly, muscles clenching down around him so tight you felt it too, the way your walls tried to drag him deeper, how your toes curled and your back bowed like you were desperate for more.

Jake's laugh was low and rough against your ear, all teeth and mean amusement as he tightened his fingers around your waist. "She's fucking clenching. Just 'cause you kissed her," he taunted, and you wanted to say no, wanted to deny it, wanted to pretend you had any dignity left but it was impossible when Sunghoon's mouth was finding the corner of your lips now, slow and tender and unbearably sweet. "You're so pretty"

"Pathetic little thing," Jake cooed, voice dipped in false pity, "Sunghoon calls you pretty and you're already squeezing my cock like it's the first nice thing anyone's ever said to you." You whimpered, pressing your forehead to the mattress, trying to hide from them both, from the unbearable heat prickling under your skin. You could feel Sunghoon smiling against your cheek, soft and secretive, and when you cracked your eyes open, you caught it, that tiny, almost imperceptible look he passed to Jake. The faintest tilt of his mouth. Permission. Encouragement.

"Don't listen to him," Sunghoon murmured anyway, voice as soft as his kisses, pretending like he wasn't the one feeding the fire. His hand stroked lazily down your spine, light enough to make you shiver. "You're pretty. That's all that matters."

Pretty.

You could have cried.

You almost did.

Jake's laugh rumbled against your back as he thrust up into you again, hard enough to have you gasping, scrabbling uselessly at the sheets. "Such a good girl," Jake crooned mockingly, dragging the words out, slow and sticky like syrup. "All pretty and dumb for us."

Sunghoon just kept petting you, like you were something small and helpless. His fingers tracing your spine like he was counting your vertebrae, his mouth ghosting over your skin, and then he was murmuring almost absently, like he was thinking out loud, "So pretty like this. So pretty I almost feel bad."

You didn't even know who he was talking to—you, Jake, himself—it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way Jake's cock bullied into you without a hint of mercy, and the way Sunghoon looked at you like you were something sacred he was offering up to be ruined.

"Are you gonna fucking cum or what," Sunghoon muttered next, his voice a little rough around the edges, impatient, a glimpse of the colder boy underneath all the tenderness, "You never take this long with the other girls."

Jake barked a short laugh, snapped his hips forward once, hard enough to make you cry out. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "she's just a little too fucking sweet." You didn't know if he meant the way you tasted, the way you sounded, the way you looked sprawled out for them like you'd forgotten how to say no. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.

You couldn't think straight anymore.

You couldn't do anything but clench and sob and ache for them, feel Jake's cock dragging in and out of you, feel Sunghoon's kisses ghosting over your skin, hear their low voices murmuring above you like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You heard it, heard it even through the messy sounds of Jake using you, even through the haze of your own breathless little cries and for a second everything inside you pulled tight.

Other girls.

He said it like it meant nothing. Like it was just some passing detail, a shrug of the shoulders, a fact you should already know but you didn't and in the haze of it all you almost didn't realize Sunghoon wasn't yours, maybe he was Jake's but one thing is sure though; you weren't the first girl they'd done this with.

Your throat worked uselessly, a desperate little sound clawing up before you could stop it and you hated it, hated that they would hear it, hated that it gave you away. "S-Sunghoon"

He turned to you, still petting you absentmindedly but you could feel the slight hesitation in his touch, the way his fingers paused just a little too long at the dip of your spine, as if considering whether he'd gone too far but he didn't apologize, he didn't even look sorry. He just leaned in closer, brushing his lips over your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your burning skin like he could stitch up the bleeding hurt with pretty words.

"You're better than them," he murmured, so quiet you almost thought you imagined it. "So much better, baby." You despised how easily you melted for him. Jake thrust particularly deep and you choked on a sob, "Oh my God! J-Jake!", hips jerking helplessly back against him, desperate for any kind of grounding. Your mind was a mess, a riot of shame and pleasure and need and you didn't know how much longer you could hold yourself together, you tongue was already dropping out of your mouth, making you drool.

Above you, Sunghoon just smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was pleased you were breaking because to him it was probably the whole point.

Jake groaned low in his chest when he finished, the sound rattling deep in his throat, but you barely heard it. You were already gone, gone somewhere far inside yourself, where you didn't have to feel the way Sunghoon was murmuring at Jake to "go ahead, finish inside," like it was just another order to be given. Where you didn't have to feel Jake's lazy satisfaction as he spilled inside you, one hand gripping your hip like he owned you, like he had some right to leave pieces of himself inside your body.

It hit you all at once, the whiplash of it, how went from being a virgin a week ago to this, spread out, used, letting boys who barely even liked you do whatever they wanted with you. The shame was so thick it tasted metallic in your mouth. You scrambled, struggling to move, your limbs trembling and slow. Jake was still inside you and you hated it, hated the hot sticky reminder of everything you'd let happen, hated him for still being there like he had every right.

You shoved at him, weak and clumsy but desperate enough that Jake gave a startled grunt and stumbled back, finally slipping free. You barely registered it. You were already trying to crawl off the bed, blind and panicked, desperate to get away before they could see the tears slipping hot and furious down your cheeks but before you could even swing your leg over the edge, Sunghoon's hand closed around your wrist.

Firm that it makes you halt, chest heaving, refusing to look at him, refusing to let him see how broken you were. You tugged weakly against his grip, but it was useless. He didn't say anything at first, just held you there, thumb brushing thoughtlessly against the inside of your wrist, as if soothing you. As if he thought he could soothe this.

You yanked at your wrist, the pathetic sound of your struggle filling the heavy room, Sunghoon didn't even flinch and his grip stayed firm, like he barely noticed how hard you were trying. He just stared at you, something strange and unreadable flickering in his dark eyes, his gazed held confusion, as though he couldn't understand why you were crying.

His gaze dragged over your face, the wetness on your cheeks, the trembling of your mouth, the way you could barely breathe around the panic squeezing your ribs and then he asked it, so casually you almost thought you imagined it.

"Why do you cry all the time?" Asking as if your tears were an inconvenience but it makes something inside you snap. You tore your wrist out of his grip with a violent jerk, your whole body swaying from the force of it, and you backed away so fast you stumbled over yourself. You didn't even care that you were still naked, still aching, still leaking down your thighs.

"I can't believe I did this," you choked out, voice cracking, the words coming in one ugly, messy rush. "You're both fucking weird. I can't believe I let you— I can't believe I—" but before you could finish, Jake's voice cut through the air, lazy and amused, like none of this meant anything to him. "You wanted it," he said, shrugging like it was obvious. "And from the way you were moaning for us? Pretty sure you enjoyed it too."

The shame burned hotter than ever, climbing your throat like bile. You wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing you could disappear into the floor, wishing you had never met them, wishing you could scrub the memory of all of it off your skin. They weren't even trying to comfort you or apologize, they were just standing there, like you were the crazy one for thinking any of this was supposed to mean something more.

You flinched when Sunghoon moved toward you, every part of you braced to be mocked again, humiliated further but instead of laughing at you, instead of pushing you back onto the bed and telling you to take it like before, his hand came up, slow, almost unsure, and wiped the tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. The touch was awkward but gentle in a way that made your throat close up. He didn't know what he was doing, you could feel it in how clumsy he was, as if affection wasn't something he gave often, like he was terrified of getting it wrong.

Before you could form more thoughts, he was leaning in, mouth brushing yours so softly it barely even counted as a kiss, just a warm press, a quiet apology he didn't know how to speak. You made a sound, something broken and desperate in the back of your throat, and he caught it with his mouth, kissing you a little harder. "Don't cry again," he mumbled against your lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating him for making it worse, feeling sorry for yourself for leaning into him without even thinking.

Jake stood a few feet away, still shirtless, still burning from the inside out, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with something close to murder flashing in his eyes. He wasn't smiling anymore, the lazy, taunting smirk was gone, replace with something aimed at Sunghoon like he had just witnessed a betrayal, as though Sunghoon wasn't supposed to kiss you like that, wasn't supposed to wipe your tears or whisper anything that sounded even remotely like he cared.

Jake's jaw clenched, his fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting through the thin fabric of his shirt. It made your stomach twist, that look on his face, the look of boiling anger and ugly jealousy.

Because Sunghoon had never, not once, touched another girl like that and now he was wiping tears off your face like you were some delicate fucking thing worth saving.

Jake's hands curled into fists and stomach twisted. The anger was old, nothing new because it had been sitting in him for a long time—months, maybe.

It started at the party.

The girl, he couldn't even remember her name now but he remembered how she was giggling, clutching his arm, pressing her tits against him like she didn't know he wasn't the one she needed to impress. Jake led her through the crowd anyway, up the stairs, through the half-cracked door where Sunghoon stood against the wall sipping something dark from a cup.

"She's cute, right?" Jake said, grinning, jostling her forward a little. Sunghoon barely even looked at her before he tilted his head, caught her wrist in his hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, all while his eyes were on Jake, while his smile was directed at Jake.

It was mechanical, hollow even and Jake saw it even if no one else did. Sunghoon didn't even want her, he didn't want any of them, not really anyway. He just let Jake bring girls around because it was easier to use them than admit there was nothing either of them actually wanted. It was an arrangement, an easy and disposable arrangement.

Until you, Jake had felt it the day he saw you in Heeseung's apartment, you came over, looking so nervous you could barely meet his eyes. It was supposed to be a joke, flipping up your dress while you were trying to leave. Just to see if you'd cry, just to see if Sunghoon would even bother looking.

He did.

Jake caught it—the way Sunghoon's gaze went dark, sharp, almost hungry. He was the one who leaned over, under his breath, and whispered into Jake's ear. "I want her."

You.

Jake could still feel it, the way those words made something twist in his gut, made his palms itch to hit something. Sunghoon had never said that before. Not once, not even when Jake handpicked the prettiest, most desperate girls at every party but you, standing there like some little doll about to bolt for the door. You, who they hadn't even touched yet, you were the one Sunghoon wanted.

Jake ignored it, or he really tried to. He tried to brush it off, the same way he brushed off the weird sick feeling that climbed up his throat every time you looked shyly at Sunghoon instead of him.

But then the night came. The night Sunghoon was meant to fuck you, Jake was there in his room—had the door cracked open, waiting for Sunghoon to come to him.

It should've been routine, it always was, especially with the shy or naive girls and you were certainly naive, almost borderline oblivious in Jake's opinion. Sunghoon was meant to get you ready and Jake would join later if he felt like it, they'd use you up and that would be that. Instead, Sunghoon slipped out of the room, tight-jawed, tense and cornered Jake by the kitchen sink when he came to get you the water bottle. "She's a virgin," Sunghoon said low, eyes dark and unreadable. "We're not doing this tonight." Jake had laughed because it sounded like he was joking. "What, you scared or something?"

Sunghoon just stared at him. Something ugly, something furious flickering just beneath his skin. "I'm serious," he muttered, voice rough. "I'm not ruining it like this." Like this? Like it mattered?

Jake stood there, watching Sunghoon grab a bottle of water, stall for time, anything to calm down before he went back to you. It burned something inside Jake that he didn't even know he had, not jealousy, not really, it was something worse. Jake wanted to break something. Wanted to break him.

Sunghoon is still holding your waist, like you were his to protect, his fingers pressing deep enough to bruise, yet there's a softness to his grip. He's staring at you like he doesn't understand what's wrong, his eyes searching yours like he can make sense of everything. But he can't. He won't. His breath brushes against your ear as he whispers, "Stay."

It's quiet. Almost too quiet.

Your chest tightens, the words hanging in the air like a weight you can't shake off. You feel the tears welling again, the ache in your throat, the rawness of everything you've just experienced. This wasn't supposed to be you. You weren't supposed to be here.

But you're still here. Still in Sunghoon's room. Still caught between the chaos of two boys who have never looked at you like you were anything other than a game. The thought nearly breaks you, but you keep your head tilted away from Sunghoon's searching gaze, eyes trained on the floor.

That's when Jake's voice cuts through the silence.

"She's not yours, Sunghoon," he sneers, his voice thick with mockery. "She's a free use toy now, remember?"

The words hit harder than anything physical. Sunghoon's face tightens, a flicker of anger flashing across his features for the first time. This is the first time, in all the years of living with Jake, that Sunghoon's ever asked a girl to stay in his room. He never needed to. The others, they always left when the night was over, like it was just part of the script. But with you... he's different. He wants you here. Wants you more than he's willing to admit.

And Jake knows that. He knows it, and he sees the change in Sunghoon, the shift that makes everything spiral out of control.

Sunghoon tenses, his grip on your waist tightening, but it's not to keep you close anymore. It's like a warning, a subtle shift, like he's trying to hold onto something that's slipping through his fingers.

"You don't know shit about her, Jake," Sunghoon spits, voice low, dangerous. But there's a tightness in his chest, the kind that tells you this isn't just about you anymore. This is personal.

Jake laughs, the sound cruel and mocking. "I know enough. You're just fucking delusional, man. She's never gonna be anything but a toy, something to fuck when you need it."

And that's when everything breaks. That's when the jealousy and the anger in Jake's eyes finally win out. He's seething, and there's something darker in him now, something that twists his features into a snarl.

"You think she's different?" Jake's voice rises, thick with bitter disbelief. "You think she's special? She's just a body, Sunghoon. You're no different from me."

Sunghoon doesn't even think. His fist is already flying toward Jake's face before the words are fully out of his mouth.

The sickening crack of Sunghoon's punch echoes through the room. Jake stumbles back, a flash of shock before he's charging again, but this time, Sunghoon's ready. They clash together, their bodies colliding with a force that shakes the room, like they're trying to tear each other apart with their bare hands. You watch, heart pounding in your chest, unable to move.

Jake doesn't care. His gaze is locked on Sunghoon, furious and burning, but there's something else there. Something ugly. It's like he's mad at the whole world. Mad that Sunghoon is breaking the rules, mad that he's treating you differently, and mad that he can't have you like he thought he would.

"You fucking hypocrite," Jake spits, shoving Sunghoon hard enough that he almost knocks you over with him. "You think you're better than me? You fucked her first. You let me fuck her too. Don't act like you're some fucking savior now."

Sunghoon's fist lands again, and this time, the sound of the punch is more brutal, sharper. The room stills for a moment. Everything quiets.

And then Jake stares up at him, blood dripping from him his split lip, his expression twisting into something almost unrecognizable.

"You're not special either, Sunghoon. She'll never choose you."

And that's when the weight of it hits you. Both of them are broken. Both of them have pushed you to this point. But the one you can't seem to tear your eyes away from, the one who's been different with you, is Sunghoon. It's always been him, hasn't it? Even though everything's a mess, even though your mind tells you to run, your body aches for the one who's holding you in place.

But this fight, this ugly confrontation, it feels like the breaking point. Both of them, tearing each other down, just to try and prove something to you. And you don't know how much longer you can stand it.

Jake slammed the apartment door so hard the hallway lights flickered. His chest heaved like he'd run a marathon, every breath sharp and unsteady, and his jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it. Sunghoon's words were still ringing in his ears. His fists still burned from the impact.

And you? You were still in that room, still with Sunghoon. The echo of it made something cave inside him and he wasn't sure if it was the punch or the shame that hit hardest. It hadn't always been like this.

Two months ago, that was when Heeseung brought you around for the first time. Introduced you casually at a birthday party as his girlfriend's cousin. Jake barely remembered whose birthday it was because the moment he saw you, you eclipsed everything. Not because you were trying to. No, you didn't even speak much that night. Just nodded politely, murmured a hello. It was your eyes that did it—too soft, too open, too easy to read. He saw the way you looked at the floor more than at anyone else, how your hands fidgeted with the strap of your bag.

You didn't belong in their world of sharp words and sharper games and maybe that's exactly why he wanted you. He told himself it wasn't serious, just a passing thing. You were pretty, sure. Innocent too but surely not his type. Except he caught himself watching you, noticing you, even wondering about you but then you had to go and ruin it—by looking at Sunghoon.

He hadn't even looked at you that night, he barely nodded in acknowledgment, said something offhanded to Heeseung about you being "quiet." Sunghoon didn't see you at all but you saw him and Jake saw you.

Staring.

It was in the little glances, the way you perked up just slightly when Sunghoon's voice cut into the room. The way you didn't blink when he walked past, as though you could memorize his silhouette if you tried hard enough. Jake had watched you the whole time, watched you light up for someone who never even looked your way and it made something petty and jealous unravel in him.

He approached you that night of the art show just to tell you, you were too plain for Sunghoon, he said like a warning but it came out more like a challenge. He saw your lips part, saw the brief hurt in your eyes before you turned away.

That was the beginning.

It became a game, or that's what he told himself. Teasing you at parties, mocking the way you watched Sunghoon like he hung the fucking moon. A part of him thought that if he made you feel small enough, you'd stop looking at Sunghoon like that, maybe you'd look at him instead, maybe he could rewrite the script if he could just make you flinch enough to forget what you wanted.

Then one night, after too many drinks, Sunghoon admitted it. "She's cute." Just those two words, offhanded, they barely even meant anything but Jake saw it. The way Sunghoon had been looking at you lately—less like he didn't notice and more like he didn't know what to do with the noticing.

It hit Jake like ice water before Sunghoon even whispered it in his ear that day at Heeseung's apartment, Sunghoon wanted you and you had always wanted him, so where did that leave Jake? He didn't even know who he was jealous of anymore. You, for getting Sunghoon's attention? Sunghoon, for having yours? Or himself—for turning something tender into something so vile?

Maybe that's why he let it happen tonight. Why he hadn't walked away the moment he saw you under Sunghoon like that. Why he'd joined in, touched you like he had any right, kissed you just to claim a piece of something that was never his but none of it made the ache go away, in fact it only made it worse.

"She's not yours, Sunghoon. She's a free use toy now, remember?"

He'd said it because he was furious, he needed to get under Sunghoon's skin because to him it was easier than admitting the truth; he still wanted you and not just your body and not just tonight but when Sunghoon looked at you like that—held your waist, whispered soft things into your skin, kissed your tears away—it gutted Jake.

Sunghoon had never asked a girl to stay, not even once, not even the girls that had way more experience than you and now he was asking you.

Jake punched the wall as he reached the bottom of the apartment stairwell, breathless. His hand split open against the drywall. Still, the pain didn't come close to what was boiling in his chest because the truth was, he never stopped wanting you and now he might've lost you forever along with his best friend.

Back in the apartment, the room still smelled like sweat and anger and something unspoken, thick in the air, clinging to your skin like shame. Sunghoon's touch was gentle this time, he didn't say much as he led you toward the bathroom, one hand lingering low on your back, the other steadying your wrist where his fingers had left slight red marks earlier. You were too quiet to fight him on it, too tired to explain the weight sitting in your chest like wet cloth.

The warm water hit your skin and it felt too good, too soft, like maybe you didn't deserve it. Sunghoon didn't rush. He moved like he'd done this before, washing over you with careful fingers, rubbing suds into your arms, your thighs, behind your ears like he was memorizing the shape of you with every glide. He kissed your shoulder once. Then your temple. Then your mouth. Quick, gentle intervals like he was testing if you'd still let him.

You did.

He didn't speak until he was drying you off, voice low, half-rasped. "Lift your arms." You obeyed. Not because you were weak but because for once, it felt safe to surrender. He slipped a soft shirt over your head, long enough to brush your thighs. It smelled like detergent and cologne and him. You could get drunk off the scent alone. Your legs wobbled as you stepped into clean pair of his shorts and he caught you without a word. He tucked you in like he hadn't just broken you down hours ago. Covered you up to your chin, smoothed the damp strands from your face, lingered a little longer than he meant to. His gaze was unreadable—something suspended between guilt and awe.

"I'll be back," he murmured, like he was worried you'd vanish if he didn't say it aloud.

The sound of the shower running again was the only thing that lulled you close to sleep. You didn't hear him come back in. You just felt the bed dip and the warmth of his body sliding in behind yours, arms looping slow around your waist, chest pressing to your back like he needed to feel you breathing to believe this was real.

He nuzzled against your hair. "Come here," he whispered and he pulled you into him like you belonged there, like he hadn't just chosen you in front of Jake, like maybe he always had.

*•*•*

Jake hadn't been back to the apartment in three days. He'd spent them mostly on Heeseung's couch, pretending to watch TV, pretending he wasn't thinking about you every second he blinked. He didn't say much and Heeseung didn't ask, that was the thing about old friendships—they left space where words couldn't go.

When he came back, the apartment felt the same but emptier, he told himself he wasn't looking for signs of you but the disappointment in his chest when he didn't find any told the truth.

You're gone.

He heard the door to Sunghoon's room click open not long after. He didn't have to turn around to know it was him. They stood in the kitchen like strangers. Jake's knuckles itched with memory, so did his ribs but his voice didn't shake when he finally spoke.

"She left."

Sunghoon didn't deny it. "She needed space."

Jake almost scoffed. "From you too?" Sunghoon looked at him, and there was something devastating in the softness of it. "From the both of us."

A beat passed. Then another.

"You know why you're this angry?" Sunghoon said, his tone level. "It's not because I touched her. It's not even because she let me. It's because you wanted to be the one."

Jake's fists curled before he could stop them.

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did," Sunghoon cut in, unshaken. "You were just too scared to be anything other than cruel."

Jake's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He couldn't argue—not really. Not when Sunghoon looked at him like he already knew, not when he didn't even have to say it. There was a shift, almost invisible. A flash of something in Jake's eyes, something like grief or longing. It passed too quickly for anyone else to notice but Sunghoon saw it and maybe that's why, as he turned away, he said, "She's at her place."

Jake swallowed. "Why are you telling me?"

Sunghoon didn't answer.

But he didn't need to.

*•*•*

The stairs felt longer than usual or maybe Jake was just nervous regardless of the five days it took him to gather the courage to show up here. His legs didn't feel steady, not when he reached the third floor. Not when he raised a hand to knock on your door. His heart wasn't racing—it was free-falling.

He almost turned around but then the door opened and you were laughing.

It wasn't a sound he'd heard ever, it was soft, light, the kind of thing that came from somewhere safe. You were mid-laugh, leaning slightly into the doorframe, probably reacting to something Yunjin said behind you. Her voice floated out from the living room. Jake barely registered it.

Because then you saw him and everything about you changed. Your smile dropped like glass slipping from a ledge. You didn't say anything but your face said enough, the laughter hadn't just faded, it had recoiled almost like you were scared, like seeing him reopened something you'd tried to bury.

Jake felt it in his chest, low and sudden and still, he didn't speak because how could he? He had no right to be hurt, not after what he did, not after everything he'd been. Still, he stood there, holding his breath, waiting to be let in.

"Can I talk to you?"

Jake's voice was soft even careful like he wasn't sure if he deserved the words he was speaking. Yunjin was at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the doorway with one brow raised, a hand coming instinctively to your elbow. "She doesn't owe you anything," she said, her tone sharp but calm. "So if you're here to play whatever game you were playing before—"

"It's okay," you said, cutting in quietly. Yunjin looked at you, frown deepening. "You sure?" You nodded. "Just give me a minute."

There was something in Jake's eyes, something raw and unguarded and even if your brain was screaming to slam the door, your heart—traitorous and trembling—wanted to know what he had to say.

You stepped out, closing the door gently behind you, and followed him into the empty hallway.

Jake didn't speak right away.

You could see it—the way his throat worked, how his eyes flicked to the floor and then back to you, like he was sorting through a thousand things he could say and none of them felt right.

Then, finally, "I'm sorry."

It was plain, simples and unpolished, it had you blinking. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, firmer this time. "For everything. For how I treated you. For flipping your skirt up in front of everyone. For saying shit that made you feel—less than." His breath caught slightly. "I'm even sorry for fucking you like that. And calling you—"

You cut in before he could finish. "A free use toy?"

He flinched. "Yeah. That."

Your arms crossed over your chest, suddenly cold. "Are you only saying this because you and Sunghoon want to fuck me again?"

Jake's eyes widened. "No. No. God, no. That's not—I'm not—" His words tumbled, frantic. "I'm not here because of that. I'm here because I have to tell you. I have to tell you that I liked you first."

Silence blanketed the hall.

Jake took a breath and stepped closer, gaze never leaving yours. "That day Heeseung introduced you, when he said you were his girlfriend's cousin, Sunghoon didn't even look at you. But I did. I couldn't stop looking at you. You were so—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "And then you were looking at him. Always. Like he was everything." His voice cracked on that last word.

You didn't move.

He ran a hand through his hair, voice lower now. "I didn't know how to handle it. I just— I hated that you never looked at me the way you looked at him. And it made me cruel. I know that. I know I was an asshole. But I swear to god I was only ever like that because I didn't know how else to deal with it."

You stared at him, stunned into silence, noticing how his eyes were glassy like he was begging himself not to cry and maybe for the first time, you saw him. Not as the boy who teased you mercilessly, not as the one who touched you like you were nothing but as the one who was unraveling in front of you—afraid, desperate, honest. He huffed out a breath before continuing, "I know you think I'm just awful and that Sunghoon doesn't have feelings but he does and—" "I—I promise I'll be better and he will too, just come over please." "There's so much we want to tell you" he sighed the last part like he was using the last of his energy to say it.

That was the last thing he said before he left you standing there and you don't remember agreeing, not really. It's all a blur—Jake's quiet voice on the stairwell, the look in his eyes like he was begging without asking, the way he said please, the way he mentioned Sunghoon like the words had weight in his throat.

Maybe that's why you're here, maybe it's closure, maybe it's not.

The apartment is quiet when you knock but the second the door opens, you feel a pair arms around you. "You didn't cry again, did you?" Sunghoon's voice murmurs into your hair, soft and close.

You shake your head. No, you didn't, not this time. His scent is familiar, clean soap and something warm underneath. He lingers a second too long before he steps aside and that's when you see him—Jake, standing by the kitchen counter like he's unsure whether to stay or disappear. His expression flickers when your eyes meet, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches, you used to think his stare meant mockery but now it's something else. It's waiting, even hoping.

The silence stretches and you feel like you should say something. Sunghoon glances between you two like he's used to translating tension. "We talked," he says, mostly to you. "Jake wanted to say sorry. Properly this time." You nod because right now it's all you can do.

"Can I...?" Jake's voice trails off. He gestures awkwardly toward the couch, like he's asking for permission just to sit near you. He's never been this quiet before, never this cautious.

He settles beside you with careful space between your knees. The silence isn't comfortable, but it's not hostile either, just dense with everything unspoken.

Jake speaks first, the words low and halting. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that. Any of it. I was—" He stops, jaw tightening. "I guess I didn't know who I was mad at. You. Him. Myself." Sunghoon stays leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange unfold like it's something he can't touch just yet. Jake  glances at you. "You don't have to forgive me. I just... I didn't want it to end like that."

The part of you that once trembled under his cruelty now twitches at his vulnerability, you're not sure when that shifted. Somewhere between the teasing, the way he flung ugly words like armor, and the raw admission in his stare now—something changed.

Maybe you did want him, not like before, not in spite of the way he hurt you but because somewhere beneath the mess, something inside him looked like it had been reaching for you all along.

"You're not as mean as you think you are," you say quietly. Jake huffs a breath that sounds like he might cry if he lets it finish and it has you reaching for him rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you're not entirely surprised that he's leaning into your palm.

You don't know who moves first, only that the space closes and his lips are on yours now, frantic and almost clumsy, his hands find your waist and trail up to your back before he's pulling at your hair so your neck is exposed to him. He pulls away and his forehead presses against yours, Sunghoon is behind you again, kneeling on the couch and sliding a hand along your back like he's grounding you in the moment.

"You sure you want this?" Sunghoon murmurs. You nod, barely but he sees it. Jake sees it. The air shifts and you all somehow manage to make it to Sunghoon's bedroom. Their hands are everywhere, their lips too, kissing, biting, marking, Jake's hands are tugging at your clothes like they personally offended him, Sunghoon is kissing you like today is his last day on earth. He pulls off you placing kisses to your cheeks before speaking, "Come on, let Jake show you how sorry he is" he says as back away, you look to Jake and he seems to want it more than you realize. "Okay".

That was all it took for him to pull down the denim of your shorts along with your panties, staring at you between you legs like he was looking at art, "So pretty, so wet for us" he mumbles, placing kisses to your inner thighs. "Don't tease her, Jake. Do as she says", Sunghoon's voice rings through the room and it makes Jake look up at you like he's waiting for your command, the look has your breath stuttering before you say, quietly but firmly, "Eat my pussy".

Jake must have been on voice command because he immediately starts eating you out. You whimper, back arching as he leans in, licking up your folds with a deep moan like he's lost his mind.

"Fuck—Jake—"

His tongue is everywhere—sloppy, relentless, devouring you like you're dessert and he's starving and you're grinding against his face before you can help it, hand in his hair, breathy moans spilling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs were already trembling but Jake wasn't slowing down, you looked up from his to see Sunghoon smiling down at you and it makes you moan out more, "Oh my god!"

If anything, Jake is more determined now—tongue working your clit with maddening precision, fingers spreading you open so he could taste you deeper, wetter, messier, like he's trying to pull those sounds from you. You tried to push him away—not because you wanted to stop, but because it was too much, too good but Jake just growled low and gripped your hips tighter, dragging you back to his mouth like he'd die without it.

And then, slowly, finally, he pulled back—lips and chin glistening. Your breath hitched at the sight, he looked wrecked. Hair a mess. Eyes dark and blown wide with hunger. "She didn't ask you to stop, did she?" You look up at Sunghoon as he spoke, just now noticing that he's taken his cock out, it's hard, red and leaking as he palms himself while looking right at you.

Jake look at you and then back at Sunghoon and Sunghoon comes up behind him where he is, "Go on baby, tell him what to do. Use him" he says to you but you can't really speak so instead you grab Jake's hair and pull him back where you're aching for them both.

Behind him, Sunghoon watches, calm and in control, one hand fisted in Jake's hair as if to keep him there. The warm flick of his tongue makes you jolt, your hand gripping the sheets. Jake moans into you, desperate, like he's trying to earn your forgiveness with every swirl of his tongue. You almost don't notice Sunghoon has pulled Jake up on his knees and now has Jake's shorts and boxers down to his knees where they meet the sheets. Sunghoon looks down at Jake where his back is involuntarily arched with lust filled eyes and the sight of him spitting a dollop of saliva right onto Jake's hole has you gasping, "Sunghoon" you gasp out and he looks at you with a smirk, you look down at Jake and notice his eyes rolling back, you can't tell if it's because of how you taste or because of Sunghoon's index and middle fingers that are now pushed into him.

Jake is still trying his best, his tongue is fucking your hole so good you're trembling but then suddenly he's crying out and you see that Sunghoon has pushed his whole length into him at once and it makes Jake choke on a gasp against your pussy.

"You're losing rhythm," Sunghoon murmurs, dragging his hips back before pausing. His voice is low. "Don't you want to show her how sorry you are?"

Jake whimpers, nodding frantically, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" his lips returning to you with renewed effort—tongue trembling, breath shaking. You arch, overwhelmed at the way he's trying so hard for you. For both of you.

And it's working.

Your thighs close around his head, your moans tangling with Jake's soft cries as Sunghoon keeps rocking into him. The way Jake's mouth moves on you—messy, reverent, aching—pulls you closer and closer until you're gasping his name, your fingers tangled in his hair as you finally finish against his tongue.

Jake groans, muffled by your release, clinging to your thighs like they're the only thing keeping him grounded but then he starts moving again—this time, back against Sunghoon. "Fuck," Sunghoon hisses, voice strained as Jake starts to push back harder. "So desperate to be fucked now, huh?"

You slide forward, cupping Jake's flushed face, and he looks up at you with wide, watery eyes. Your thumb brushes away a tear rolling down his cheek. "Pretty boy," you murmur, kissing his cheek, then the other. "You're so pretty like this." The moment your voice breaks through him, his eyes widen, lips parting in a shaky moan, just like Sunghoon once did to you—Jake clenches down hard around him, the shock drawing a ragged groan from Sunghoon. Sunghoon chuckles breathlessly, eyes flashing. "Oh, now that's familiar. You remember that, sweetheart?" he says to you.

You do remember and now it's Jake—whimpering, trembling, taking it. You trail your hand down Jake's trembling stomach and wrap your fingers around his cock, already dripping. He jerks in your hand, keening, hips stuttering as you start stroking him in time with Sunghoon's thrusts.

"Oh, fuck," Jake cries. "Please—please—"

"Look at you," you coo. "Falling apart just like me." "All that anger, you're just a fucking brat huh?" you ask and he shakes his head furiously. "I—I'm not!", you keep stroking him, speeding up your movements.

Sunghoon growls behind Jake, watching your hand work him while Jake chokes on a sob and fucks himself harder on Sunghoon's cock. "K—Kiss" he whimpers, "Aww, you want a kiss baby?" Sunghoon coos but Jake can only respond with incoherent babbles now. You lean down and kiss him but that means you neglect his aching cock, when he pulls away just to moan out, you go back to stroking him.

Jake lets out a wrecked, high-pitched moan, body trembling as you reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock again . He nearly collapses.

"Please—please, I'm gonna—"

You stroke him slowly, watching the way his body bucks into your fist and back onto Sunghoon's cock in perfect rhythm. He's whining, shameless and loud, hips jerking. Every time you squeeze, he moans louder.

Sunghoon grits his teeth. "Good fucking girl," he growls to you, fucking Jake harder. "He's gonna cum just like this—such a fucking mess."

Jake's the first to break. He sobs your name as he spills all over your hand, body curling in on itself. The clenching sends Sunghoon over the edge with a groan, and he pulls Jake close, hips stuttering as he finishes inside him.

And then, silence. Just heaving breaths, sweaty skin, bodies tangled together on the sheets.

Jake collapses against your chest, still gasping, and you stroke his hair without thinking. Sunghoon lays beside him, one arm thrown lazily over his waist.

For a moment, it's quiet.

Then Jake speaks,  "You think Heeseung would be mad we fucked his girlfriend's little cousin?"

You blink. "I'm older than Yunjin."

They both whip their heads toward you.

"No fucking way," they say in perfect unison and somehow, that's the moment you realize you're probably not getting rid of either of them anytime soon.

══════════════════════════

[addictedtohobi]

DESIRE: UNLEASH, UNRAVEL, UNMASK, SJY

SYNOPSIS: When you are assigned as a psychiatric nurse in a quiet, unsettling and remote town, you expected lonesome, boredom even, and not the creeping sense that something was wrong. Then you are asked to temporarily monitor Sim Jake, a long term patient, when his regular nurse takes sudden leave. At first he's just another case for you, then you started noticing strange behaviors unfolding within the hospital walls, and now you're not just questioning your patient's mental state, you begin to question what's real, what's hidden and if you're turly safe.

• PAIRING: Sim Jaeyun x Psych nurse afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 20k

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, hospital settings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, patient x nurse dynamics, forbidden romance core, mental illness (refer warnings section), suggestive, reader-insert, sorry attempt at writing a medical based au (I'm not a medical student so please forgive me), reader is always confused the tf out of her mind, not proofread.

• WARNINGS: MDNI, Antisocial Personality Disorder, violence, stalking, breaking in, paranoia, reader faints a couple of times, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of restraints, mental breakdown, manipulation, coercion, fear of abandonment (not reader), kidnapping, borderline yandere behavior, violation of rules and personal boundries, aggressive and obsessive behavior, stealing, making out, dry humping, needy reader, let me know if I need to add any<3

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm really not sure about this one but I hope you guys will enjoy it. This is a work of fiction and whatever is happening is happening for the plot. In no way I am trying to depict how an actual psych hospital works in this fanfic, it's more of a vague setting to build up the plot. Your comments, reblogs and ask would mean so much to me. Thank you for giving so much love to my previous work, hope you will like this one too. Happy reading♡♡

You stepped outside of the train station, head held high, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that barely hung on your face. The strap of your backpack slipped off your shoulder ruining your nonchalant persona in the blink of an eye. Adjusting it back you stood right in the middle of the road searching for any sign of life, the town was so quiet you could even hear a pin drop. The street lights flickering on and off like they were sponsored by your bad decisions. You look around, trying to spot a ride to your new apartment. The place felt like it was straight out of Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA music video, but an emotionally constipated version. You swore you even saw a single dried leaf flowing along with the dust across the road from your peripheral vision. 

You leaned your weight on your right leg, hands on your hips as you took in your surroundings. It's understandable that it was evening but not even a single soul could be seen in your near vicinity. It wasn't even dark yet. The only human interaction you had after stepping foot on this worn-out town was with the maintenance worker who gave you a nasty side-eye when you crossed paths with him and the old man sitting inside the ticket counter who maintained eye contact with you till you were out of his sight. 

You grunt, making your way back inside the station to interrogate the ticket counter. He looked at you up and down through his frameless glasses, folding his hands comically slow before heaving a sigh. You tapped your foot in sheer annoyance, he decided to finally bless you with some words of wisdom and direct you towards a local diner located not too far from the station. You threw a tight smile at him, dramatically making a turn and off you went towards the diner.

The local diner's neon sign buzzed half heartedly, you nodded solemnly at its state, the poor thing looked like it gave up on life ages ago but was still showing up for work because of money. It almost reminded you of your nursing school days, where you would show up to school regularly just because you paid the tuition fee in advance. You ran your fingers through your hair, huffing a breath, at least you could hear human voices from inside. 

"Hello, is anyone there?" You did the best you could to bring out your practiced cheerful voice when you opened the diner's door, grinning like you're trying to sell toothpaste. The cashier, a middle aged bald man with a mustache, and a relatively younger boy, locked you in place with a deadpan face and eyes staring with premium disinterest. "Unfortunately, yes." You made your way inside, removing your sunglasses as you approached them. The smile wiping off your face faster than the wifi signal during zoom meetings. 

"Does this place have any cab or bus facility? The person at the ticket counter sent me here." You awkwardly tapped against the counter waiting for their reply. Both of them exchanged glances at each other before they focused right back on you. And, now, somehow you were second guessing ever agreeing to come in this ghost of a town. "You're new here?" Now it was your turn to fix them with a deadpan look, "Unfortunately, yes." The younger guy sighed at your words, making his way towards you. 

"You came here on purpose?" He raised his eyebrows at you, his eyes taking in the luggage beside you. You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, hands on your hips as you were left baffled by the sheer judgemental tone of his voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" The old man just shook his head and went behind the door, leaving you standing there alone with the boy. 

He shrugged in response, leaning against the counter. A small smirk appeared on his face, "No one really comes to this town, considering there's literally nothing to attract any entity. The town is small, location so far off no one gives a fuck about it." You just sighed, dragging your feet towards a chair and slouching against it. "What brought you here anyway?" 

You massaged your head a bit, perplexed at the situation you've gotten yourself into. Your mind drifting back towards the questionable choices you made before you ended up being assigned to be a psychiatric nurse located in a place you haven't even heard about. "I'm here to work as a nurse at Second chance psychiatric hospital." His eyes widened in surprise before a toothy smile graced at his lips. "Oh you'll be working with my friend Sunoo."

You gave him a tight look, clearly having zero idea about this Sunoo guy he was referring to. He ignored your obvious disinterest and sat on the chair beside you. "I'm Jungwon, I work here because I have nothing else to do. The guy I'm talking about is also a nurse at the hospital you're joining." That gained your interest as you turned towards him, "Help me go to my apartment, I've morning duty tomorrow." He beamed at you, nodding before making his way inside a room and coming back later with his apron off. "Let's go!"

"You're dropping me off?" He grabbed your luggage like it was made of thin air and made his way out of the diner. You just looked at him, not making a move to stop him cause honestly you were glad he was chivalrous enough to do that. You were as good as Macdonald's ice cream machine to even argue about moving your own luggage. You ran after him as he made his way towards his beat up car, your legs falling in rhythm with his as you told him your name. 

You reached the apartment the hospital's staff had given you information about. You made your arrangements and agreements with the owner a few weeks prior. For which you mentally gave a pat on your back because the apartment was pre-cleaned for you. You thanked Jungwon, he waved it off saying everyone knows everyone in his ghost town to help anyway, and made your way up the stairs to unlock the door. You punched in the code you'd set through your mobile app, kinda high-tech to have such security given the conditions of the town, you made your way inside the apartment. 

You set your luggage aside, deciding that unpacking was inevitably going to be a problem for tomorrow. You freshened up, throwing yourself on your bed as flashbacks for today's event slid through your mind like a scheduled Tumblr post. This town contained a type of quiet that felt like the universe had hit a forgotten password button, left isolated and on its own to function, except instead of bringing peace with the isolation, it just gave off a serious 'what's wrong with it' vibes. Basically this town was a kind of place where even the squirrels look like they are plotting world domination. 

Sleep comes easily when all you did the entire day was travel and struggle, rinse and repeat. Waking up on the other hand was a struggle you didn't realize you'd face on literally the first day of your job. You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes empty, motivation still buffering. It wasn't until your second alarm went off that you finally broke out of your daydreaming and got ready to go to the hospital. You know how much struggle you put up with your will to live every morning, so you know how to deal with that too.

You found yourself back to the same situation you were in when you stood in front of the local diner, now looking up to the rusting, 'Second Chance Psychiatric Hospital' sign barely hanging above the main entrance, threatening to fall but still somehow keeping it together. You pushed open the gate, the loudly squeaky noise of the metal gate raising goosebumps on your skin. You physically crumpled at the noise, gaining looks from a few of the staff and patients spread across the entrance of the hospital and its surrounding area. You meekly smiled at them as you continued making your way towards the hospital's door, their eyes hardly leaving yours. What's up with people of this town and the constant staredown competition they engage themselves into?

The exterior of the hospital was painted blue, almost fading, getting drowned by veils of climbers and creepers you don't want to learn about. The front yard was draped with dead leaves which had fallen on the ground like the hope you had when you were assigned to this hospital. You sighed heavily, decided to turn around and take in the state this hospital was in. It sure looked like a type of psychiatric hospital you'd hope to see in a horror movie. What were you going to tell your friends back home? Second chance? More like Secondhand misery on your part.

Stepping through the glass doors which barely sensed your presence (you had to give them a bit of manual labour) you were met with a waiting room which silently screamed at you to leave. Rusty chairs, mandatory fish tank with no fishes but a suspicious looking worn out castle inside it, few statues which had more cracks on their surface than you had on your phone screen. You made your way towards the reception area, not entirely surprised to find the receptionist having the time of her life in her sleep. You lightly banged on the surface of the counter to get her attention. She woke up agonizingly slow, looking like she had seen too much and was running purely on instant coffee and bad choices. She didn't even look surprised, yawning as she pulled out a form and slammed it against the counter in front of you. You looked at her, completely at loss. "I'm a new nurse here, not a patient." 

"Oh?" She gave you a wary look, eyebrows furrowed as if she'd heard something she shouldn't have. You rummaged through your bag, huffing slightly as you handed her your joining letter. Her eyes widened when she verified your details, sighing in resignation as she typed in something on her computer. You stood there, watching her fill out your details in the staff registry, expressions on her face changing like the slideshow of a presentation you made when you were in sixth grade. "I just need to understand," she started, giving you the joining letter back, she briefly made an eye contact and you nodded at her to continue, "what life crisis led to this?" 

"Should I be worried? Why does everyone keep on asking me this question?" You were starting to believe you hit the wrong subscribe button at this point. This town was sketchy, far off the map, with zero to limited amount of transportation, every single place in this town gave off vibes of bad decisions and pure paranoia combined. The receptionist waved your concern off, getting out of the reception area, sliding her hand around your shoulder and pushing you towards the staircase leading to the first floor. 

"The patients on the ground floor are usually handled by seasoned nurses, fresh meat like you are assigned on the first floor to deal with patients with reduced care demands who have less complex cases." She explained as she stopped you in front of a door, labeled Dr. Byeon Hyunwoo, knocked three times and left you in your misery. Your eyes followed her till she was out of your sight, not moving an inch, mind malfunctioning. It wasn't until you heard a very awkward and intended cough that you got out of whatever trance you were into. "Would you like to come in?"

"Yes, I'm sorry." You followed him in his personal office, the condition inside of it surprisingly much better than the entire hospital. He invited you to take a seat, smiling curtly you sat in front of him. He was clad in white coat which seemed to have seen quite a few things. The wrinkles on his face are a clear indication of his expertise. He smiled at you asking questions about your whereabouts since you arrived. You'd be working under him along with a few other attending physicians and nurses. You learned he's the director of the hospital, which immediately led you to straighten your back in response. Overall you were happy to finally interact with someone who was so humanly mediocre. 

Before you could open the office door a soft creak heard from outside the door halted your steps in place, followed by faintest movements of shadow flickering from the bottom gap of the door. You sighed, opening the door quicker than the lightening speed and watched three heads stumbled across the office. They bumped into each other like dominoes, frantically trying to find their footing. Then successfully stood right in front of you, awkward smiles plastered on their faces. You turned around to look at Dr. Byeon only to realize he wasn't even slightest bit interested in what was happening in his office, so begrudgingly you shut the door behind you.

 You took in the sight of them, the receptionist from earlier, another girl with short hair and then the taller guy who sheepishly smiled at you, his foxy eyes turning into crescent moon as soon as they met yours, then came the classic move, 'the awkward cough' as they looked at each other to telepathically discuss who'll be the first sacrifice. You could feel the 'we weren't trying to listen' vibes radiating off of them like wifi signals. Honestly, the entire moment of catching them eavesdropping on you and Dr. Byeon was awkwardly theatrical. 

"A little birdy told me we have a new nurse, we were too excited to wait," the guy smiled cheekily at you and despite your better judgement his energy brought a laugh out of you. Three of them exchanged looks before the guy grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards a cabin at the left side of Dr. Byeon's office. He informed the cabin on the right side is for the physicians. The cabin where you were dragged to was a bit larger than Dr. Byeon's, probably because it was for the use of multiple people. 

"Is the little birdy Ms. Receptionist?" You chuckled as you roamed around the cabin till you placed your belongings in an empty area. The guy religiously shook his head making his way towards you, extending his hand, "the little birdy is Yang Jungwon, my friend, he informed me a new nurse was joining." You shook his hand with a puzzled look on your face which then turned into a happy one when you recognized the name, "Jungwon? The diner guy?" The fox eyed guy threw his head back, laughing. "Yes, that one."

Your interaction was cut short when the short haired girl came from the other side and clung to your arm, "I'm Yerin, your fellow nurse. Then this guy, who didn't have a basic courtesy to introduce his name first is Kim Sunoo, also a nurse and the lady standing there is Jia, our receptionist." She smiled softly at you before letting go and dragging Jia where you and Sunoo were standing. "We knew you would be joining but we assumed just like many other staff you'll ghost us too, we really didn't expect you to show up." You nodded at Jia, understanding what was up with all the questionnaire and glances but her words left you with a plethora of questions. 

"Is the reason they ghost because of the very obvious suspicious location or is this place that horrific that no one wants to stay?" You all sat around each other, "and don't you have to go back to the reception area in case someone comes?" Jia just laughed at your question, waving you off yet again, she explained how the hospital rarely gets a new patient to be admitted so everything is chill. 

"Okay, now back to your earlier question," Sunoo looked at you with his big eyes as he clapped his hands to get your attention towards him, "honestly I think the main reason is the location itself, you get to learn many things, have hands on experiences and everything but it's a small town, nothing much to explore, plus this town gives a little bit of icky vibes so that adds to everything else." Little bit icky vibes? More like a movie setup for a budget horror film.

They gave you instructions about the working of the hospital, Jia bidding you goodbye to continue with her work at the reception, Yerin helped you with printing out your schedule, and Sunoo brought your uniform scrub and ID card. You changed into your scrub, and wore your ID card, smiling in the bathroom mirror to officially start your journey as the nurse. While talking with Sunoo and Yerin you learned that Jia has been working here for 7 years, Yerin for 2 years and Sunoo just joined 4 months ago. "Jia looks younger for someone who worked for 7 years," you wondered out loud, Sunoo nodded, "She was very young when she joined here, she was in need of money and the hospital needed someone desperate enough to do the job." You pondered over his words, he suggested giving you a quick and vague hospital tour before you ask any more questions.

The hospital's air smelled faintly like a mix of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol and existential crisis. You wondered if you'll become one of the patients of this sorry excuse of a hospital if it continues to give off these weird vibes even after working here for months. While you were walking down the hall of the first floor, somewhere a door squeaked dramatically, as if to assert its dominance and make its presence known. Sunoo just shook his head, laughing slightly and mumbling about how you'll get used to it. 

The walk through the first floor was easy, uneventful but insightful regardless. You'd be working on this floor for a good portion of your work, so you hung onto every word that left Sunoo's mouth. He suggested you shadow either him or Yerin for the first half of the day so you could get a hang of how everything works, and you were glad for his regards. He gave you a tour of the therapy room, which was further divided into group, individual, occupational, art/music and recreational units. You met a few patients of the general ward Sunoo was assigned for the day, realizing it will take some time for them to get comfortable with your presence. You didn't mind their rejection towards you, considering you chose this field by your own wish to help the socially marginalized individuals of the society.

He then led you towards the ground floor, the stairs creaking below your feet. Jia looked up from where she was sitting at the corner smiling, you gave her a wave with the same level of enthusiasm. One side of the ground floor was filled with medical and support facilities like; consultation rooms, medication rooms, emergency care rooms, and pharmacy. Behind the reception area had a lounge area, dining area, and bathrooms. Aside from the rusting chairs in the waiting area, you spotted a vending machine from the 90s functioning on duct tape and sheer will, and a wall clock permanently stuck at 03:33; well at least it shows correct time twice a day, truly an overachiever. 

The other side of the ground floor was what seemed to pull your gaze back at it, time and again. The large 'Intensive Care Psychiatric Unit' sign glaring at you in red, the hallway was dark even in broad daylight, shadows clung to the walls as you walked towards it. Sunoo stopped you from going further when you reached near the entrance of the patient's wards. "New nurses aren't allowed to enter this area, only the veteran nurses are allowed. You'll need to get your ID card updated with access to this area to enter."

Your eyes were trained on the hallway, the longer you looked at it, the heavier the air felt as if something was waiting for you to dare to indulge in it. You turned your head towards Sunoo, gulping slightly, "Are the patients that volatile?" Sunoo shrugged his eyes scanning the hallway which he never once entered in his 4 months of working here. "Maybe they are, I haven't seen any special case or event with my own eyes since I've worked here but I've heard stories." 

He gave you a tight smile before urging you to follow him to continue the rest of the touring, and as you nodded your head at him in agreement you felt something move, barely visible, a shadow. A nameless fear settled in your chest, sending sharp, cold ripple down your spine. You couldn't help but lean against the glass doors to find where the movement came from, but there wasn't a single soul in sight. You flinched when Sunoo called out your name, your steps retracting back towards the waiting area but your mind still hooked towards the ICPU.

Working for the hospital was much better than you had initially imagined, although severely understaffed, the environment of the hospital was thankfully healthy and supportive. Dr. Byeon, albeit strict and a man of few words, always guided you with patience, though sometimes it would wear thin. Patients were reluctant at opening up at first but once you gained their trust, you started enjoying your job more. The patients on the first floor were easier to manage at most, they maintained a sense of self awareness and would be cooperative with the treatment. So you never had to struggle too much while doing your job. 

So after several weeks of working in the hospital, and living in this ghost town there were few things which you had gathered. For instance, Dr. Byeon was not only the director but also the co-founder of the hospital, at this point if anyone told you he was also the mayor of this town you wouldn't be surprised. Some of the attending physicians here wore their egos on their sleeves for some reason. There were only two veteran nurses and both of them were assigned duties on the ground floor for ICPU, you found both of them very scary even when they showed nothing about kindness to you when you occasionally crossed paths with them. Patients here, to put in simple words, were here for a reason. 

The people of town were, you don't even know how to describe. Earlier when you walked on the uneven and cracked sidewalks, people would smile at you the way they do when you accidentally wave at someone who wasn't waving at you, awkward and suspicious. Even the cats looked at you with that, 'I know what you did last summer' stare. Now they are friendly enough to ask you for a tea and ask about your dating life before you even sit down. Everyone in the town knows about each other, their allergies, their nicknames and the story behind it. Secrets here longed as long as a cough. Still you loved how uneventful and slow it was, or maybe you're just getting Stockholm Syndrome with this town. 

"Mrs. Lee's son got into an accident, she left earlier in emergency," You along with Sunoo were huddled around Jia during your break time when you heard about Mrs. Lee, a veteran nurse assigned at ICPU. "Poor her, I've never seen her so worried before, he's her only son." You nodded at Sunoo's words, it wasn't like you could give your 2 cents into the conversation since you knew very little about everything. You wondered how Mrs. Hong was going to handle everything on her own, when Dr. Byeon called you inside his office.

Dr. Byeon opened his door before your fist could even touch it and made his way towards his chair, you peered at him up and down before shrugging and making yourself comfortable in front of his desk chair. He heaved a sigh, adjusting his glasses as he gave you a look that screamed 'help' but in a more professional manner. You smiled awkwardly at him fidgeting in your seat, the more the silence stretched the more difficult it became for you to maintain your commercial smile. "You must have an idea what happened with Mrs. Lee right?"

You reluctantly nodded your head and the way he looked at you made warning bells ring in your ears, "I'll get straight to the point. We are short on staff for ICPU, I was hoping you'd take the responsibility for the meantime." You let out a laugh which sounded like a broken tape record, high-pitched, off-key, powered entirely by denial and borderline fear. As usual, Dr. Byeon patiently waited for you to come down from your high with an expression which lacked all the seasoning and spices. You eventually stopped when you noticed he wasn't laughing with you, you put your head down on his desk. 

"What? You'll be taking over Mrs. Lee's duty?" Yerin screeched, you hushed her putting your hand on her mouth. Sunoo just stared at you, looking for more information. "Why would he appoint you though?" He wondered, "Yerin should've been his first choice, you're comparatively new." You glance at him, finally releasing Yerin from your hold, "He said first floor is mainly handled by her so she was out of the picture, and as for you," you jabbed your index finger on his chest till you backed him off against the nearest wall, "he said one time you were allocated to work in ICPU for few hours and you got so scared you turned that place to a disastrous zone in five minutes."

Sunoo gulped, avoiding your eyes like you were terms and conditions, "I...that place is shady! I couldn't help it. The patient who I was tending appeared out of nowhere and touched my feet. I jumped and dropped everything, the patient got triggered and grabbed my hair, then I screamed and Mrs. Lee had to clean up after my mess." You shook your head, slouching against your chair. Sure the ICPU gave off some serious 'don't fuck with me' vibes, but Mrs. Lee and Nurse Hong had survived years of working in that unit outstandingly. You could survive too if you only did what you were told and didn't cause much disturbance in the daily routine of the patient's admitted at that part of the hospital. Plus your legs could use some rest. 

When Nurse Hong, a sweet and soft spoken woman, gave you the temporary schedule, you did not expect to have constant rotations in your shift timings. She gave you head pats and a hug, smiling sympathetically at your baffled expression, "I heard a lot of good things about you from Dr. Byeon, I believe you can handle it well. Just be focused on your responsibilities and call for me when trouble arrives okay?" With the amount of softness her voice and eyes contained when she said those words, you'd have said yes to even rob a bank for her. But she was getting old, already had so much on her plate, you decided to be the strong independent woman you've already dreamt of being and handle your issues yourself. 

You had always watched the ICPU whenever you talked with Jia on her counter, or whenever you kicked the vending machine to get your energy drink. Your eyes followed that section wherever you were in the near vicinity. The section always called for your attention, maybe it felt that way because you were prohibited from entering that area. A forbidden apple, tempting you to take a bite with its bright red colour. Now you stood in front of the glassdoor which was once a barrier to your curious heart, sweat formed at the palm of your hands, you wiped it on your white coat and placed your ID card over the sensor. 

The sensor beeped, the sound sharp and unforgiving, it pierced through your ears. The glassdoor separated and you entered the area. Your hand unconsciously reached for your pen neatly tucked at your scrub's pocket as you forced yourself to take a step forward. The unit was unnaturally quiet, the air suffocating, not with the smell of medications or ethanol, but with the memories. The lights flickered on and off, casting a yellow light on the walls which were once white. The paint peeled off in strange patterns through the hallway. You made your way deeper into the unit, hands tight around the trolley you were moving with you. 

The hallway stretched like it had no end, doors lined up each side, differently numbered, all identical, all shut. The hallway carried an uncertain heaviness, like it remembered every scream, every breakdown, every cry for help. You could hear some muffled noise as you made your way further into the hallway, a laugh, a whisper and sometimes a scrape against the wall. Normally, sounds calmed you, grounded you but this time it only increased your heartbeat. Each little noise made you shiver. The wheels of the trolley screeched against the worn out tiles of the hospital as you moved forward, and suddenly silence wrapped around you. 

For a moment you had forgotten that you weren't alone, that everyone else could sense your presence too. Being confined into a box makes you overly sensitive towards any sort of noise, it didn't surprise you that everyone inside the rooms could detect the presence of a new person with the sound of your footsteps alone. You moved ahead till you reached the far end of the hallway, room no. 015 glaring back at you. You've heard about the infamous room no. 015 in passing before, something along the lines of too violent, too hysteric, too cruel. You recalled Sunoo telling you something about the patient's history, an outcast, admitted to the hospital by his family who then left the town and never returned. 

You gulped, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door to let your presence be known, then sliding in the key. Your eyes studied the room, it was pale, off-white, no decorations. The bed sat at one corner of the room, sheets crisp with practice precision, a single pillow, and a blanket. A chair and fixed desk were placed on the adjacent corner of the bed. A built in light fixture high on the ceiling, out of reach even if one stood on the chair. You made your way towards the window that was covered by off white curtains. You wondered why would there be a window without grill for a patient who was admitted at ICPU. You moved the curtain aside, you could see the security guard's cabin from up here, well you guessed there's no way the patient would try to run without getting noticed. 

The slow creaking of the door behind you followed by sudden movements startled you as you turned around, wide-eyed, hands on your chest. You took a deep breath, carefully watching the stranger who stood opposite of you, coming out of the bathroom, steps halted midway, eyes mimicking that of yours. He analyzed your appearance, white coat, boring scrubs, trolley inside the room, hospital's ID card hanging from your neck. His eyes met yours, and you gulped, unconsciously clutching the notepad in your hand, a corner of his lips twitched. "I'm here for your routine check up, is that okay with you?" 

The slight tremor at the end of the sentence didn't go unnoticed by him. He studied you for a few seconds before he wordlessly made his way towards the bed and sat on it. You dragged the chair towards his bed, sitting on it promptly as you studied his medical record. 

▪︎ Name: Sim Jake

▪︎ Gender: Male

▪︎ Date of Admission: November 16, 2018

▪︎ Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

▪︎ Assigned Psychiatrist: Dr. Byeon Hyunwoo

▪︎ Assigned Nurse: Mrs. Lee Siyun

▪︎ Mood/Behavior: Patient appeared withdrawn and agitated

▪︎ Appetite: Normal

▪︎ Interactions: None

▪︎ Agitated/Aggression: High

▪︎ Nurse comments: 1. Patient has shown a recurrent pattern of agitation. 2. Cooperative during check ups though slightly sensitive and annoyed. 3. Extreme shifts in moods.

"How are you feeling?" He clicked his tongue in irritation, leaning back against the bed, "Mrs. Lee?" You looked up, his voice hoarse and rough due to lack of use, full of exhaustion. His eyes were dull, yet sharp as they peered at you. His face was framed by soft, dark hair, a bit messy but it gave him a boyish look. He had a well-defined jawline. He was handsome in a way that made your breath catch without even realizing. You shook your head, keeping your thoughts in check before you looked down at your notes, "she's on leave," you muttered checking the previous notes. 

"Irritated." Your eyes shot up as he spoke, his jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed. Your eyebrows knit slightly in confusion before they relaxed realizing he answered your initial question, you noted it. You cleared your throat, "what kind of thoughts are occupying your head today?" He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest, "nothing important." You sighed at his vague answer wondering if he's the same with Mrs. Lee.

"How do you feel about being here?" You questioned, writing down his previous answer. He scoffed watching you write down what he said word to word, "not thrilled." You sucked in a breath, you have to remain calm for patient's sake, this wasn't even worse but somehow you'd have preferred him lashing out a whole monologue than the single word answers he threw at you. You took out your stethoscope, placing one end of it in your ears, "I'm going to touch you, is that okay?" 

He moved a bit closer, "hurry and leave." You rolled your eyes, your hand slipping beneath his shirt, your fingers were steady, practiced as they pressed gently against his chest. You felt his breath hitched before you could detect it through the stethoscope. "Breathe in, hold it." Surprisingly he did what was said, your ears filled with the irregular thump-thump rhythm of his chest. "Breathe out, slowly." Your hand shifted slightly, inspecting another spot. There was no rush, no distraction in your movements as you continued monitoring his heart beat. "Your heartbeat is slightly irregular. Try taking a deep breath slowly a couple of times so it slows down a bit." 

The rest of the routine check up went by smoothly, he didn't answer any of your questions verbally, but was cooperative for most part. He showed annoyance but wasn't aggressive. You noted everything, gave him his prescribed medicines, checked his vitals again after taking the medicines, made sure he didn't have any injuries or health concerns and the routine check up for room no. 015 was completed successfully. 

A deep breath escaped your chest as soon as the door closed behind you, relief flooded your body like sunshine through a cracked window. Your eyes flickered towards the wrist watch on your hand, lunch time. You informed Nurse Hong about your schedule and made your way out of the ICPU towards the cafeteria after her approval. You spotted Sunoo, Yerin and Jia sitting at the far corner of the cafeteria. "Hey!" Their eyes shot up in your direction, you waved at them before making yourself comfortable beside Jia. "Wow, you look like you could use some chapstick, your lips are drier than your text when you're ignoring me." Your hands immediately reached out to touch your lips, "ah, it's because I kept on biting on it while I was doing my routine check up." You thanked Sunoo when he passed you the chapstick. 

"So," Yerin leaned towards you, her expression serious but you could see the underlined lightheartedness behind her doe eyes, "Tell us brave soul, what was it like in the land of darkness?" Sunoo and Jia nodded, huddling around you, "I heard you were assigned the infamous room no. 015." You nodded, leaning back against the chair, digging your food, lost in thoughts but continued, "It was okay, it wasn't as scary as we have heard in the stories, perhaps not scary at all," you studied their confused expression, "he was a bit annoyed, reserved for most part, but he complied. Unlike all the stories we've been hearing from the past."

"Is that true? I was half wondering if I should prepare a strecher for you." Jia smacked Sunoo arms as she hushed him, Yerin turned towards you, "maybe the stories are dramatized and exaggerated in order to keep everyone in check, so that no one would go in the ICPU area, kind of like to protect the patients and not disturb them?" You shrugged looking towards Jia who shook her head at Yerin's words, "I've seen a handful of instances myself where extra security had to be called because he was getting out of control. I've seen Dr. Byeon running inside ICPU frantically to room no. 015, those instances can't be staged." 

You solemnly nodded at her words, you couldn't decide how anyone was with only one single interaction with them, but then again, the man in front of you in room no. 015 was far off from someone you imagined a person with ASPD would behave like when you did your case studies. "How does he look? Is he scary?" Yerin asked, her eyes wide as she looked at you. "He doesn't look scary, just exhausted." You mumbled quietly as your mind wandered back to his eyes, the soft puppy-like eyes, though the sparkle in them was dulled but you were sure they must've looked the prettiest when they sparkled. Jia looked at you lost in your thoughts before deciding to answer Yerin's question, "he's not handsome, he's ethereal, would've 10/10 hit on him if he wasn't a psycho." 

Sunoo and Yerin gasped, gaining a look of annoyance from people surrounding the area you were occupying, you apologetically smiled at them. Sunoo sighed, dramatically face palming himself, "Why are the hottest people always the biggest red flag?" Everyone else shrugged, continuing to eat in silence for the rest of the lunch time. Maybe there was something more to the picture than it seems, you'd heard from Nurse Hong that Jake was aggressive, he was manipulative, that before getting admitted here he was notorious for breaking rules and creating havoc. Your mind juggled between those words and what you saw in room no. 015, maybe you were judging the book too fast, maybe all you were doing was judging a book by its cover. 

The rest of the week went by the same, though Jake's irritation turned into mild annoyance as he got accustomed to your presence. Nurse Hong explained to you about your duties in the second half of your lunch time which you would be spending on providing mental health assessment and therapeutic counselling towards the patients she entrusted you with. You were thankful she was mindful enough to not overwhelm you with each patient of ICPU, cause you swore they were there for a very good reason, and you had a very long way to go before you could handle them like Mrs. Lee and Nurse Hong did.

"You're smiling weirdly," Sunoo eyed you from where you were gathering your notepad and stethoscope while simultaneously wearing your coat. "What do you mean?" You shot him a side-eye that could curdle the milk. Sunoo shrugged, still eyeing you with suspicion laced in his eyes, scrutinizing you, "you seem way too excited for someone who's working an early shift on Monday morning, it's because of Jake right?" Your eyes widened as his words sank in, you threw a crumpled paper in his direction, he dodged it, "It's nothing like that! Don't make up things. I've to go. I'm getting late for my rounds. Bye!" You didn't give Sunoo another chance to speak as you bolted out of the cabin and into the ICPU. Sunoo shook his head, clearly enjoying your denial about your growing attachment towards Jake. He could detect the shift in your energy from miles away whenever Jake was mentioned and he wondered if you'd ever realize it and if you did what would be your next step.

"Good morning." You greeted Nurse Hong who smiled at you softly greeting you back as she continued her routine. There was a faint skip in your steps which you didn't realize. Even though you were denying looking forward to being back in ICPU, you couldn't help but agree with the fact that you were looking forward to seeing Jake. You were starting to believe in your abilities in handling complex cases like the patients from ICPU, especially Jake. Over the course of a week you noticed the little changes that happened in his behavior, his shoulders were less stressed, he didn't cross his arms over his chest tightly and did not isolate himself whenever you were present with him. By the end of the week he had started answering your questions without rejection. The answers were still a bit vague but they were better than the single worded answer he gave you initially. He even laughed at something you said once, which was very brief and he instantly denied doing that, but you were happy he was opening up to you anyway. 

As you were making your way down the hallway your steps halted when the lights lining up the hallway started flickering followed by a loud thunderstorm and then silence. You gulped, the smile wiping off your face at the dull atmosphere that suddenly surrounded you. You stood in the middle, eyes trained towards the door at the end of the hallway. Hushed voices could be heard from the rooms near you, patients getting anxious due to sudden power failure. You heaved a sigh of relief when the hospital's tired and true companion of a thousand years, the generator, finally started working, lightening up the hallway again. You made your way towards room no. 015.

As usual you knocked on the door before sliding in the key, your heart still racing slightly. The thunderstorm had quiet down a bit, but it had started raining heavily creating loud echoes of rain hitting any possible surface. You hesitated for a moment, hand wrapped around the doorknob, you took in a few deep breaths and pushed the door open. You entered the room, the curtains drawn back, and raindrops from the open window splattered against your face. You closed your eyes, not anticipating the unexpected intrusion. You looked around the room, everything was the same as you remembered. You closed the window to stop the rain from entering inside the room but decided to keep the curtains drawn. 

The sudden movement of the door behind you caught your attention, you flinched, not because you didn't anticipate it but because of the sheer amount of force applied for the door to be yanked open. You turned around, hands still on the window, as you watched Jake eyeing you up and down. His clothes were disheveled, his shirt crumpled, two of his top buttons were open, showing a bit of his collarbone. His hair was messier, like he had been pulling them for sometime. His chest heaved heavy breaths, his lips chapped. 

Everything about him was different from the Jake you met last week but what startled you most was his eyes. They were cold and sharp, an unfocused gleam beneath the eyelids. He looked at you, eyes staring into yours like he wanted to look at your soul. There was almost a magnetic charm in his looks, something you hadn't seen before. "Jake?" You called softly when he made no attempts at moving from his place, his eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head at you. "I'm here for your routine check up, is that okay with you?" He closed the bathroom door behind him, slowly, step by step making his way towards you. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" 

"Ye-yes! How about you sit on your bed while I do my routine?" He stood a couple feet away from you, hands inside his pockets, resting his weight lazily on one leg. His eyes were relaxed now, pupils slightly dilated, he bit his lower lip as if he was in deep thought. "Bed feels like a good option," a lazy smirk graced his lips as he moved closer to you. You took a hesitant step back, then again, till your back hit the window. His steps never flattered, he walked with an ease you never thought he had, he stopped when he was mere inches away from you. Sweat formed on your palms, your fingers automatically digging inside your scrub's pocket to curl around the pen in panic. His hand rose, steady and purposeful, as he wiped a few of the raindrops from one side of your face, slow and careful, like he was afraid you would break if he was harsh. 

Your breath hitched, eyes falling shut for a moment. He scanned your face, smoothing your hair behind your ear, he stepped back till he reached his bed. "Aren't you going to check up on me pretty?" Your eyes shot open, he sat on the bed, hands behind his head as he smiled at you. You studied him for a moment, he was way more relaxed at chatty than he normally was. Normally Jake never talked with you more than necessary, and was pretty much closed off. But the Jake now in front of you was much more talkative, laid back even, his eyes carried a glint you couldn't pinpoint. You made your way towards him, deciding to sit with him on his bed instead. You did your routine, asked him various questions and he gave you the answers with practiced ease. You checked his vitals and everything was normal. No irregular heartbeats, breathing regular and unlabored. 

You knew something was off, he wasn't behaving like he normally did. Still, somehow, the reports were abnormally normal. You noted everything, and he watched you like a hawk all throughout with a lopsided smile. You gave him his medicine, checked his vitals again, everything was normal, yet there was a voice deep in your mind which told you that no, this wasn't normal. But hospitals never worked on gut feelings and instincts, they needed observations which you had but it suggested a completely different conclusion. You sighed, packing up the things and making sure there weren't any potentially harmful things left behind. 

As the medication took effect, Jake laid down ready to drift off to sleep, one of his hands hanging down the bed. You made your way towards him, pulling a blanket over as you watched him before putting his hand under the blanket. That's when you noticed, faint purplish marks encircling his wrist, you inspected his other hand which bore similar bruises. You knew those scars very well, the unmistakable imprint of being restrained by chains. You got out of the room, locking it behind you as you made your way out of the ICPU. You don't recall Nurse Hong informing you anything about restraining Jake with chains, surely if he did have an episode, you'd have been informed prior. The fact only confused you more.

You spotted Nurse Hong talking with Dr. Byeon at far corner of the waiting area, their faces contoured and voices hushed as they discussed something. You stood near the staircase, scanning the notes in your hands, there was something you were missing surely but couldn't point out. You greeted Dr. Byeon when he passed by you and stopped Nurse Hong to have a chat, "the patient from room no. 015, Jake Sim, has he been restrained before?" She looked at you nodding her head, "yes, why? He did try to hurt you?" You shook your head no, informing her about the marks you saw on his wrists. "When he becomes violent, he breaks everything in this close vicinity so it's necessary to apply physical restraints as a precaution."

You thanked her for taking her time to answer you amidst her busy schedule. She smiled, patting your shoulder in comfort, "It's great that you think about your patient's health this much, though Jake has been assigned to Mrs. Lee, I've monitored him too, I'm sure Mrs. Lee knows much more about him than any of us will ever do." You smiled at her words, and she bid you goodbye to take care of other things. So the stories about him being physically violent were true, but the Jake you met on your first week of working at ICPU didn't exhibit any violent tendencies. That was weird because he wasn't violent when he first met you, just cautious. Maybe he just didn't want to get restrained yet again. Moreover, he always had his hands crossed over his chest, so maybe you just never noticed the marks around his wrists. 

The rest of the week went by with the same level of unease you felt on Monday, you initially thought it was because you were meeting Jake after a long time but clearly you were wrong. Every Time you went to monitor him, he had this smile, beautiful yet cunning plastered on his face which would make your skin crawl instead of raising goosebumps in flattery. He was very open to have any sort of conversation with you, often going off the topic and more into you. He was charming, his eyes gleaming as he teased you during monitoring. He was behaving so far off from the Jake you met first, and that made you rethink about everything you'd learned about him. You still noted as much as you could, maybe a discussion with Dr. Byeon would do. But it wasn't easy to do, due to the hospital being understaffed, he was pretty much busy all the time to come and sit with you and discuss it. 

You sighed, the pen in your hand clicked in a rhythm only your thoughts could follow, as your mind reflected on the interaction you had with him earlier today, "you look cute when you're nervous." That's what he said as you were auscultating him, you looked up, your fingers twitching around the cold disc you had placed on his chest. His heartbeat was unbearably steady, even as he spoke and watched you with those intense eyes of his. One of his bruised covered hands tugged the stethoscope down your neck, his other firmly wrapping around your hand which was on his chest. You gulped, sitting up straight. You couldn't pull yourself away, it was like he had cast some unspoken spell over you. He laughed at your bewildered expression, hands releasing you from its hold. 

You stood up, heart beating loudly while grabbing the medication and handing it to him. His touch sends shivers down your spine. You watched him take the medicines, your eyes focused on his wrist, he gave you a wink as he settled back on his bed. You packed your things ready to go out of the room and away from him when he called out your name. You pushed the trolley out the room as you made your way back towards him. He leaned lazily against his elbow, a smirk forming on his plush lips, his eyes were drowsy and unfocused but they were still undeniably focused on you, "your left eyebrow twitches when you get nervous, and there's something so honest about you getting nervous, it's kind of beautiful. Don't hide your nervousness from me, I like it when you're unsure and a little shaky." 

"What an odd thing to say, Jake." You deadpanned as you turned towards the door to leave. His laugh anchored you mid-step, turning back you saw his head thrown back before his eyes once again locked with yours, his hair fell haphazardly on his forehead due to his abrupt movements, face turned completely cold, his eyes losing their focus as the time passed, the medications kicking in. "I believe you're forgetting something, pretty." His hand rose till it was eye level, fingers curled around a pen as he casually twirled it, the corners of his lips twitching slowly as he eyed you. 

You tapped your hands over your scrub's pocket unconsciously recalling your pen to be the exact same model, your movements getting frantic as you couldn't feel your pen. Your hands dived inside your scrub's and coat's pocket, trying to locate your pen, eyes widening in realization that during the course of your routine with him, he had somehow managed to steal your pen away without you noticing. You rushed towards his bed and snatched your pen from his hands, "taking what doesn't belong to you without the owner's permission can lead you to serious repercussions both by the hospital board and law. I'm warning you right now before you engage in more trouble Jake." He laid back on the bed, a lazily smile hung upon his lips as you warned him about his actions, he just shrugged after you were done explaining, a light teasing tone in his voice when he said, "I like watching you lose control, it makes me feel good to know I'm getting under your skin."

"You're going to murder that pen." You were pulled back from your thoughts by Sunoo's voice, the clicking of pen halting, you threw the pen in your coat's pocket as you made your way towards him. "I think I'm losing my mind Sunoo," you whined as your steps fell in rhythm with his. "Honestly that's shocking, I thought I'd hear this on your first day of working in ICPU not the second week," you pushed him a little, your thoughts jumping back and forth between your and Jake's interaction. You weren't sure how your future interactions with Jake would unfold but you hoped it wouldn't be anything worse than it already was, "I can't wait to go home and get some well deserved sleep."

Your apartment wasn't too far away from the hospital and you preferred walking so you could have time to mull over things. The sidewalks were cracked, a little bit uneven in their placements, as you walked over it. Evenings in this town would always be your roman empire, the town was beautiful and welcoming in the mornings but turned solemn and hostile as darkness consumed it. Some of the street lights flickered while others gave up on their life long ago. You sighed as you spotted your apartment building, grunting as you made your way up towards your floor. You stood still in front of your door, struggling to breathe, maybe you should start daily workouts soon. 

Your hand shot up to enter the password when you felt a heavy, invisible weight on your shoulder. The air around you suddenly thickened. You turned around, eyes and ears alert as you scanned the area surrounding your apartment, yet there was nothing.  Blaming it on your exhaustion from work, you punched in the code and welcomed yourself inside your apartment nonetheless. You hung your jacket and removed your shoes, dragging your feet towards the kitchen to drink some water. You made your way inside your bedroom, placing your backpack inside the closet, you grabbed a tshirt and shorts and made your way inside your bathroom to take a shower. 

You sighed a breath of relief as the warm water hit your skin, your hands massaging your shoulders as you whined in pain. All of the tension melted as you lost yourself into the feeling of warm water running down your skin. You squeezed some amount of shower gel on your palms, gently lathering it on your body. You rinsed it off, turning the water off as you stepped outside of the shower area. You wrapped a towel around yourself and grabbed another to dry yourself off. The bathroom mirror turned foggy, steam clinging onto the glass due to the heat of the shower. You lift your hand to swipe across it, the reflection of your face clearly visible now. You smiled tiredly at your reflection, you could see the weight of the everyday exhaustion in your eyes. You shook your head, deciding to continue your nightly skincare routine and changed into your comfort clothes. 

You made yourself comfortable on your bed, eyes staring at your ceiling as your mind drifted off towards Jake again. You shut your eyes close, turning on your side trying your best to think about something, anything other than the person occupying room no. 015. You would be lying if you said he didn't occupy most of your thoughts even after you left work, in fact he has been a constant part of your mind ever since you first interacted with him. There was no doubt he was insanely handsome, and somewhere deep down you knew Sunoo was right about your growing interest towards him. 

He was already consuming your thoughts when you first interacted with him, but even in his cynical form you couldn't help but let your mind wander back towards him. When you first met him, he was stoic, reserved but he was endearing. He was soft in a way it tugged at your heart. But now, with his constant flirting, advances and even his tucked up self was making your heart race unbelievably fast. You were about to lose your mind after working in the hospital but not in the way you initially thought you would. Whatever thoughts and interest you had towards a patient you were tending to, wasn't very professional of you. Your eyes shot open in denial, no, you had to stop whatever that was growing inside your heart. You couldn't possibly get romantically involved with one of your patients, let alone a psych patient at that.

Monday rolled around quicker than you imagined, your mind still hazy from the weekend's leisure. You stood outside the hospital's main gate, the security guard giving you a small smile before resuming his duty, you made your way towards the hospital. Jia greeted you as soon as she saw you from the glass door, you quickly pulled her into a hug. "Thank god I can see your spark back, last week it was almost as if someone had suck your soul out." You laughed at her words but didn't disagree. You mind was still fresh with memories of last week but weekend soothed your head like a balm. You were sure being back at the hospital would probably make you stressed for another week to come but you knew this is exactly what was waiting for you when you decided to become a psych nurse anyway. 

In a well-worn pattern, you checked in with each patient that was assigned to you for the week, like a clockwork, you knocked on the door of room no. 015 before unlocking it. This time, Jake was sitting on the desk chair, blanket wrapped around him. He looked at you when he heard his name slip past your lips. A soft, barely there, smile graced his lips, "routine check up? Is this place fine or would you like me to move to my bed?" For a moment you just stood in your place, looking at him with curious gaze, he mimicked your expressions when you didn't answer him. "Are you okay?" You questioned as you made your way towards him, his head tilted up when you moved close to where he was sitting, his puppy-like eyes staring back at you. 

"I'm okay!" He nodded, eyes drifting away under your scrutinizing gaze. He sat crossed legged on the chair, covered fully by the blanket, his hair was messy but it reminded you more of the Jake you met on your first week. His eyes were soft around the edges even though they carried a guarded look. What proved to be more unexpected to you was how closed off he was, he neither tried to invade your personal space nor he threw any flirty remarks at you, just casual conversation. 

You made your way towards his bed, sitting on the edge of it, as you asked him some questions. He moved so his chair was now facing towards you, answers sliding off his tongue like honey on warm bread. You noted his answers, studied his body language, observed the room for anything remotely suspicious, "Can you remove the blanket so I can monitor your vitals?" He nodded wordlessly, opening his arms but not removing the blanket completely. You gave him a look but didn't press further as you checked his heartbeat, irregular thump-thump rang in your ears. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what was even happening? "I think I'm catching a cold, that's the reason I have draped the blanket over me." You nodded at his words, administering him his medication and bid him goodbye. You locked the door behind you, slowly making your way out of the ICPU for your lunch but your mind was, yet again, left inside room no. 015. He showed very distinct shifts in his behavior every week, you don't remember any of the physicians or nurses notes providing any insight on this very specific observation of yours. Or maybe you were just overthinking it, patients do tend to show shifts in mood. 

You fell into the familiar routine, yet again, for the rest of the week. Jake had been down with a cold but got better with medications as days passed. He was covered in a blanket most of the time, even when he was inside the bathroom. You made fun of him for looking like a goofball and the way he pouted at you made your heart skip a beat or two. You liked this version of Jake, reserved but amiable, you didn't feel intimidated by him like you did last week. He didn't bluntly flirt with you, maintained a safe distance and didn't do anything which would make you work up. Still you couldn't forget how distinctly different he behaved as weeks passed by.

You pushed your trolley inside Jake's room, it was friday, your last routine check up for the week. He smiled at you from where he was seated on his bed. "How's Mrs. Lee's son?" You were surprised he initiated the conversation, he hadn't done that at all this week, yet you smiled at him, "he's recovering well but since Mrs. Lee is his only family, she needs to be with him till he recovers well enough to function on his own." He thoughtfully nodded at your words, you made your way towards him and sat on the edge of the bed. "How about we skip all the formalities today and speak with each other like friends? How does that sound?" 

His gaze lingered on you as he thought about your question, "okay...." You smiled, holding your notepad in your hands regardless, "how's your cold now?" You asked, playing with the clip of the clipboard. "It's gone, I'm feeling much better now. I don't think I'll need this blanket as my 24/7 support system now." You laughed along with him as you asked him a few more casual questions to keep the flow of the conversation. He answered each of your questions diligently. "Okay a few more questions and then we can end this session with monitoring your vitals and administering medications okay?" 

He nodded at your words and you continued, "can you tell me how are you feeling now as compared to last week?" You noticed Jake's breath hitching before he mumbled, "I wasn't in my best state, my mind was clouded. I don't remember most of it." You took note of the slight tremor at the end of the sentence. "You aren't planning on stealing anything now right?" His eyes widened as if he heard the sentence for the first time, "stealing? No, like I said I wasn't in my best state." You laughed softly, reminding him that you don't mind if he's regretting what he did. "You were quite chatty last week, I would say bold, to put it more clearly and you even touched me a decent amount of times, do you remember any of that happening?" You could see the sweat forming on his face, he shifted a bit, avoiding your eyes, "I don't remember it, I'm sorry. But I don't want this session to continue, can you please proceed further?" 

You sighed but accepted his wish nonetheless. His comfort was your priority over anything, you didn't want him to feel agitated and lose control. You checked his vitals, his heartbeat haywire, at this point eveb Jake knew how obvious he was being, his nervousness as clear as day. But you didn't press, he didn't question why you didn't. You asked him to sit up straight so you could give him medicines. He did as you ask, his movements making the blanket pool at his waist. Your hands froze mid-air, your eyes trained on Jake when he lifted his hand to grab the medicines from your hand, a flicker of confusion crossed your face before shock sat in like ice on a cold morning. 

You put the water bottle and medicines back on the trolley, your feet working before your mind did. You took both of his hands in yours, were you shocked? Bewildered? Confused? Borderline creeped out? You weren't sure. Words spilled out of your lips before you could stop them, Jake's eyes widened as he pulled away from your hold, sliding back towards the wall, "answer me Jake? What is happening?" You could see the panic on his face, the way his eyes shook, the way his hands trembled as you kept asking questions after questions. You should've stopped when Jake asked you to as he covered his ears, but you didn't. 

You were sure you were losing your mind, if you kept working on Jake's case you'd probably end up as one of the patients of this hospital too. There was not a single thing which made sense in your mind, you were spiraling more than Jake. Your breaths came out laboured but you didn't move, you wanted, no needed answers and Jake was the only person who could give them to you. "Jake answer me, I'm here to help you, if you'll hide things from me how am I going to help you out?" Your words only fueled the fire in the wrong direction and before you could comprehend Jake hand was wrapped around your throat as he pushed you against the wall. 

Your eyes widened, your hands wrapping around his wrist to free yourself, he didn't apply pressure, didn't even hold it tightly but his hold was firm, "don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong." You gasped, pushing him away with one hand and he let you. His hold loosened as he stepped back. Your hand instinctively made its way up your neck, you slumped against the wall, frozen by the shock of it all. Your eyes met Jake's glassy one, his face was stoic but the way his lips trembled ever so lightly, the way he was clenching his fists to stop the trembling of his hands, and the way his chest heaved heavy breaths, they told a different story. 

A single tear escaped his eye, and in a violent motion he slammed his hands against the trolley, the metal clattering across the floor. You hissed when a sharp object cut through your skin, albeit not that deep. The sound loud enough to be heard from outside. Still you were perched upon the floor, eyes locked with his. He clicked his tongue, "stay away from me." That was the last thing you heard before the room was forced open by the security guards, taking in the condition of the room and you, they immediately pulled Jake away from you. He did nothing to stop them, his eyes never leaving you even as Nurse Hong gently supported you and helped you out of the room. 

Dr. Byeon and a few attending physicians ran past you and into room no. 015 and you didn't want to imagine what was going to happen in that room. You were still in disbelief, your mind couldn't wrap around anything that happened inside the room. One minute you were laughing with each other and the next minute he was throwing things at you purposefully. The last thing you remembered before exhaustion took over your body was what triggered this whole ordeal in the first place, the faint lines of restraints which caught your eyes last week were now spotless, almost unnaturally so.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by Sunoo, he handed you an energy drink while sipping his coffee. He didn't ask you questions, didn't even acknowledge the situation that brought you to the hospital bed with an IV drip inserted in you and you were grateful to him. After a while Dr. Byeon made his way towards you, "how are you feeling?" You tried to sit up but he waved you off before continuing, "I'm sorry you had to experience that, I should've sent someone with better experience than you to handle him, even though the injuries you got aren't life threatening I'll give you next week off so that you can heal properly, okay?" You nodded your head and he made his way back towards his office. Honestly, whatever happened was terrifying and you definitely need a week-long leave to get your head straight but you were determined to find out everything you could about Jake Sim after your return, that was for sure.

"It's still Wednesday but I miss you so much!" You pouted hearing Sunoo whine from the other end, walking towards your apartment after going out to a local diner to have some coffee. Sunoo has been in contact with you daily since last friday, never letting you feel alone. You were glad to have a friend like him in an unknown town. He visited you every weekend, sometimes alone and sometimes Jungwon would tag along with you both. You avoided talking about the incident with both of them but the town was small and you knew Jungwon would be well aware of everything. None of them broke your little bubble, your wounds were fresh at that time. Still you were glad that Sunoo called you daily after his shifts ended to know about your whereabouts. Yerin and Jia did too, but their schedules were more packed than Sunoo's. 

"I'll be back in no time," You smiled, "don't rush yourself, if you feel like you're not ready Dr. Byeon said he can extend your leave." You were glad everyone was being supportive but if you're in a profession which handles mental health patients, cases like this would continue to happen and you can't forever hide from them. You ended the call with Sunoo when you reached your apartment building, making your way up the stairs. The wind howled in the hallway of the apartment building, rattling the railings and windows which were left open. You felt relieved that you reached your apartment before the weather got tricky. You welcomed yourself in your apartment, removing your shoes and hanging your jacket you made your way towards the living room.

You stared at the store-bought snacks you never picked up from the coffee table while you were binge watching movies earlier when the loud bang of your bedroom window being slammed open caught your attention. You hurriedly made your way towards your bedroom, it had started raining heavily, grimacing, you struggled to tame the wildly flying curtains and shut the window close. You roughly wiped the droplets of water from your face, looking down to see your clothes being soaked. You made your way towards your bathroom for a quick shower. 

The thunderstorm continued even after you were done with your shower, along with the heavy rain, frequent lightning, and loud claps of thunder. You made your way towards your window, water streamed down the glass, the sky dark with grayish hues. Suddenly the thunder cracked again, loud and close, you flinched hard backtracking your steps, hands pressed hard against your ears. The lights went off and then turned back on with the thunder, and then after a moment everything stilled. You relaxed in yourself, taking a few deep breaths to calm the erracting beating of your heart. Everything was quite quiet, too quiet, your stomach churned with unease or maybe just hunger, you weren't sure. You could hear your own breath clear in your ear and in that momentary silence you heard it, a soft crunch. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stayed glued to your place, maybe you were hearing things, then another soft crunch. You gulped, slowly inching towards the noise, the lights went off again, you looked side by side, eyes scanning the darkness, something felt weird. A chill rushes down your spine and the uncanny pressure of being watched makes you sweat. Then from the shadows of your bedroom door, a low voice, calm and amused, speaks, "Come on, pretty...don't take all night to react. I've been waiting for you here for a while now." A loud gasp escapes your lips, the voice too familiar, too close. You turn towards the voice, steps backtracking slowly. The light flickered once, dimly, casting shadows on your face, then it came fully.

"Jake?" You whispered as you stepped backward, heart beating loudly. You couldn't even bring yourself to speak any louder. Your left eyebrow twitching as you spoke, "who- how the fuck did you enter my house?" He laughed throwing his head back as he started closing the distance you were creating between you two. His eyes dark, sickening smirk engraved on his lips mocking your defense, "you aren't much careful when you punch in your code, not your fault, I'm just very good at what I do, pretty." He pouted enjoying watching you panic. 

You gulped watching him inch closer, and closer. Your mind was everywhere and nowhere at once. Your thoughts trailed over your apartment's main door before your eyes did and without wasting another second you dashed towards the door, barefoot, hastily rotating the door knob. Jake's steps were rushed but not hurried as he approached you, the door opened and you made a run towards the stairs, repeating 'don't look back just run forward' as a mantra. It was late in the evening, no one normally roamed outside at this hour, and fresh smell of rain was still lingering in the atmosphere, it almost impossible for someone to be out, but maybe, just maybe you could find someone for help. 

You jumped down from the last three stairs, wincing when your foot landed on a sharp rock, you looked side by side, and desperately banged the door of the old man who lived on the ground floor, you ran towards the street, searching for a presence when the door didn't open. Your thoughts wandered towards how he would've left the hospital in the first place, they would've surely sensed his absence by now, maybe they are on the way. You sighed in relief when you saw a person walking down not too far away from you, "Hey! Please help me!!" You yelled, running and waving your hand frantically in the air as if it would somehow gain their attention. 

The person's footsteps halted in the middle of the walk, he took one of his headphones out and turned back to see if he was hallucinating someone calling out in the middle of night. He shrugged when he found the whole street empty, putting back his headphones on as he made his way towards his home. 

Your back stung as the wall scraped against it, tears streaming down your face as you watched Jake apply more pressure on your mouth to make you quiet. You winced when your head made contact with the grainy wall due to his movements. He strained his neck to look for anyone, sighing in relief as he managed to get a hold of you before anyone could see you. He held both of your hands behind your back with one hand and pressed another one on your mouth. Your vision was blurry, blood oozing out of the foot that got injured, your hand ached with the banging of the door, your throat itchy and horse with all the yelling. 

Jake's breaths were shallow and quick, he turned his head towards yours, "no one's here to help you pretty, this place is mine, I know how this town works." You twisted your hands, trying to break free which only resulted in his hand wrapping more tightly around yours. His other hand glided from your mouth to your throat in a quick motion. The tight grip making it hard to even say a single word. You gasped for air, his eyebrows furrowed and pupils dilated. His eyes were sharp, gaze strong enough to lock you in your place. His body was pressed tightly against yours so you won't move your legs. He leaned down enough to graze his lips on your ear as he whispered, "be a good girl and walk back to your apartment with me, don't try to be smart, I won't hesitate to hurt you, pretty."

You sucked in air like you were drowning, like you'd been underwater for hours, his grip lifted but its memory stayed in your throat, bruising each of your breaths with fear. "I can be harsher than that," he huffed as he brought your hands in front, pulled out a strip of white plastic with a ridged surface, one swift pull and it tightened around your wrists like a noose. He wrapped your mouth with his handkerchief and picked you up bridal style, "thought I wouldn't be prepared?" You closed your eyes bracing for whatever that was going to happen with you. Your head rolled back in exhaustion, your vision blurring on the edges of your eyes as you slipped into darkness, and he just pulled you closer so your head would fall on his shoulders. 

Jake watched your face as he made his way back to your apartment, then let his eyes scan the street as if it personally offended him. He chuckled at himself, he thought you would fight more than you did. You looked pretty sleeping in his arms and he could almost imagine his future with this image. He stopped near your apartment, leaning against the apartment wall, he pulled off the handkerchief from your mouth. He made his way upstairs, deliberately checking if anyone woke up from all of the commotion. He knew the old man living on the ground floor took sleeping medication at night, he had made sure of that while he kept his eye on you from past 3 days. He didn't like doing things without being sure of everything. He loved destroying things with plan. 

He entered your apartment, made his way towards your bedroom and laid you against the headboard. He searched for your phone, keeping it in his pocket he moved back into the living room. He pushed the loveseat of your couch towards the entrance, huffing, as he straightened his back and finally secured it against the main door, now even if you were to run, you would struggle a bit till he caught up to you. He walked back towards you with a glass of water and put it on the night stand. He searched for a first aid kit in your bathroom, then in your nightstand, making his way towards your leg. He cleaned up your wound and bandaged it. The wound wasnt deep, you could still walk better. He pulled out your desk chair when he was done and sat as he waited for you to wake up. 

You opened your eyes, neck sore from the weird position, you wince a bit. "Thought you would directly wake up tomorrow..." your eyes snap towards Jake smiling at you from where he was sitting, a half eaten apple lying on the desk behind him. Everything that had happened in the last few hours crashed down on you as if someone had thrown icy water at you in the middle of the winter. He made his way towards you, plopping himself beside your trembling form, he raised his hand to brush your hair out of your face, eyes gleaming in satisfaction as you coiled into yourself. He wiped the tears that escaped your eyes, his other hand guiding the glass of water to your lips. His finger dragged through your hair and harshly tugged at it, your head tilting upwards as he helped you drink the water. 

"Why are you doing this? All I wanted was to help you," your voice was almost inaudible if Jake wasn't sitting so close to you, he chuckled, shaking his head at your words. "Help me?" A crease formed between his eyebrows as he tilted his head, you broke eye contact, staring at your lap as you fiddled with your fingers. His hand made their way towards your bounded ones, his thumb brushing around your wrist where the zip tie was irritating your skin. Your eyes landed on his wrist then on your own, noticing the similarities, only his had faded lightly. His hand cupped your jaw, locking your head in place so you won't have any other choice but to look at him, "is that what you said to me when you came to check up on me last friday?" 

"Why? You don't remember what you did?" You retorted, eyes sharp as you looked at him. A flicker of recognition crossed his mind and he laughed, the sound coming straight from the bottom of his heart. You looked at him like he grew some extra heads on his shoulders. "Can't believe this..." he muttered under his breath but you heard it, his eyes locked in yours, the smile never fading off his lips, "you're very likable pretty, wish we could've met under different circumstances." 

"Why are you doing this? I never did anything to hurt you! How did you ever escape the hospital? You realize that they will find you wherever you go, right?....you won't escape this, you won't get away with this." Your lips trembled as you spoke, voice cracking, as you tried to compose yourself in front of him. "No one will find out about me, not even the hospital." You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. He cupped your jaw, his eyes his intense but soft around the edges as he wiped the tears, his lips brushed your forehead and he pulled you in his embrace. 

"Go back to the hospital, don't do this to yourself, I know you don't mean harm, please, I just want to help you." You pulled away trying to coerce him into believing that you're on his side. He looked at you then back at the zip tie, he broke it with the help of scissors and threw them back inside the drawers. "I want to be with you, not the hospital." You shook your head, placing both of your hands on his cheeks, "get better for me? We can live happily after..." his eyes snapped towards you, letting your words skin down in him, "you wanna do so?" You nodded your head, thinking of the ways you could turn this around, "I do. I really like you Jake," he sighed as he leaned his head on your forehead, "we can run away, we don't have to go back to that hell-hole." His words muffled as he kissed your cheeks, your eyes closing on instinct. He continued to shower your face in kisses, your heartbeat erratic as you let him be. 

He pulled away, his eyes scanning your face as if he wanted to commit your face in his memory. You sighed shifting your hands on his wrists as he cradled your face, "Jake, you can sleep here today but tomorrow we will go back to the hospital and I'll help you get better, believe me? Hm?" He looked at you, and for a minute you thought you almost had him where you wanted. He closed the distance between you, your lips parting in surprise. He waited until you reciprocated and he deepened the kiss. His one hand travelled back to hold your nape and bring your body closer, your hands found your way towards his hair. He groaned as he moved your body till you were lying on your back. His kisses soft as compared to how roughly he held you. 

His hands travelled down your body, squeezing and grabbing as they travelled across your body, you moaned into the kiss. Your body reacted heavily towards his actions, back arching off the bed as you melted into his. You were hot, breath ragged as he lips travelled down your throat, harshly sucking and biting on your skin, inevitably leaving marks. Your eyes were focused on your ceiling fan, your mind haywire with everything. Your wrist was still stinging because of the zip tie. You gasped when his teeth grazed a sensitive spot behind your ear. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you let him hold you, there was something wrong. You had dreamt of this moment ever since your eyes landed on Jake, it didn't feel it same as it did in your dreams. But that was the difference, between dream and reality, reality always slaps you in your face. After a while he pulled back, kissing your lips once before hiding his face at the crook of your neck. You closed your eyes and ran your fingers down his back to help him sleep. You don't remember how long you waited, but you did, till Jake turned in his sleep and you were free from his hold. 

Your foot still burned because of the injury, you sat up slightly to find it already being patched up. Your eyes landed on Jake who was peacefully sleeping beside you, mouth agape as he snored lightly. You couldn't locate your phone, groaning slightly as he may have hidden it. You slipped out of your bed, half limping, half tiptoeing across the room, turning every 2 seconds to see if he was awake. You slowly closed the bedroom door behind you and locked it from outside, wincing when the lock made an obnoxiously loud sound. You made your way towards the door to see it blocked by the loveseat, you tried your best to move it enough to get out of the apartment. 

You were almost done, a little more, and you'll be able to open the door. You sighed, pulling on the loveseat one last time when you heard a loud bang against your bedroom door. "You're gonna regret doing this, I will make sure!" You turned around flinching hard at his voice, chest heaving but thankful that the bedroom door was closed. You pulled the loveseat, opening the door as wore your shoes hastily and ran out. Your foot was paining but it was now or never, you couldn't risk getting caught by him this time around. 

Halfway through you weren't even sure where your steps were taking you, it was late at night, the local diner was closed hours ago. You decided hospital would be your safe space. You ran and ran and ran until your legs gave out. You looked back to check if he was coming but there wasn't anyone in sight. You pushed yourself to run towards the hospital, the rows of houses and shops fading away as the hospital was situated at the end of the town. You were scared, the road was slippery because of the rain, your feet led you towards where the hospital was located as if it was a muscle memory, you turned to look back every minute in case you needed to hide.

Your legs buckled and you lost your balance when your injured foot landed on rock again. You closed your eyes to brace yourself from the impact but a strong pair of arms caught you before you could land face first on the slipper road. You could feel your heart in your throat, every ounce of energy leaving your body. The hospital was close, close. The hands holding you up helped you in stabilizing yourself, your hands grabbing theirs to ground yourself, for a second you froze, a flicker of hope burning at the back of your mind, but then you looked up, "you alright?" And saw *him*. The world seemed to tilt as your throat closed, the arms which held you now felt like a trap. 

"No...let me go!" You yelled, eyes wide, voice cracking. Your body reacts before your mind could, you shoved him, hard, with all of the power left in you. He stumbled back, his eyes wide in shock as he found his footing back on the ground. Desperation surged through your body like electricity, you were just afraid you were functioning on your pure need to survive. You staggered back, hitting your heart with your hand to somehow make it less frantic. Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn't dare to fall. 'This place is mine, I know how this town works' his words from earlier echoed in your mind, your lips quivered, there was no escaping him. 

"Why are you doing this to me? All I ever wanted was to help people like you, leave me alone, I beg you, please." You fell on your knees as you sobbed knowing well that he had been a part of this town longer than you had, he knew this town, you were stupid enough to think that you tricked him. You felt him kneel in front of you but he didn't touch you. "What are you saying?" You glared at him as much as you could with your slight blurry vision, you grabbed the collar of his shirt as you choked on your words, "I hate you." Your fingers released his shirt in exhaustion and he immediately pulled you towards him, and held you close, his breaths heavy. He didn't speak much, just rubbed your back and let you cry your heart out right in the middle of the road. 

"Hate me all you want, but I need to know the reason behind it," his voice was laced with pain as he pulled away from you, his hands on your shoulder as he watched you wipe your tears. You took a sharp breath and he held his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. His touch was soft, as if he wasn't the reason your life was a havoc. Your eyes met his, and he urged you to continue, your mouth opened, mind filled with thousands of questions yet you weren't sure how to start. Did he get episodes like this where he completely forgets what he did before? He was looking at you like it is physically hurting him to see you like this. 

His eyes wandered towards the road behind you when he caught a movement, eyes widening in realization as he looked at you, now alert, before moving back towards the road, "can you walk?" His question caught you off guard but you shook your head no, the pain in your leg was unbearable. He frantically got up, crouching down to pick you up bridal style as he started walking in the opposite direction from where you were coming. "Trust me please, I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was almost begging you to cooperate, you tried to look over his shoulder but he turned around a corner just in time. "Where are you taking me?" 

"To the hospital, or at least somewhere safe." Somewhere safe? He wants to go back to the hospital? You almost ask him what he meant by that when a voice cut through the air, "going somewhere?" Jake's steps halted in their place, he put you down carefully and stood in front of you as if shielding you. "It's none of your concern," Jake gritted off his teeth, his hand holding yours firmly. You looked over his shoulder, limping slightly as you stood beside him. Your breath caught mid-inhale, confusion cracked through you like lightning, your vision blurred, not from tears, but from your exhausted mind who couldn't differentiate hallucination from reality. 

Your world split into two, there he stood, the man in front of you, who had the same height, same face, same eyes that haunted you. Your thoughts tangled with the mix of terror, confusion and disbelief. Same face, different souls? Your body screamed to run, but your feet won't move, your mind swirling with different possibilities. Was this a trick? Or the truth? What if they were together in this, playing with you from the start? Everything clicked together like missing pieces of puzzle as your eyes moved from the man standing in front of you to the man standing beside you. Your eyes landed on the hand that was wrapped around yours, fresh bruises adorning his wrist reminding you of it had been the one holding you who attacked you last week.

"Why are you out of the hospital?" The man in front of you said, gaining your attention, your head started hurting at this point. "Why are YOU out of the hospital? You were supposed to be inside this week!" Jake, who stood beside you hissed, the other man just laughed sarcastically, his eyes growing narrow before they landed on you, "I just missed her, was thinking why she didn't show up," You hid behind Jake as the man in front of you stepped a bit forward, the grip on your wrist tightened slightly, firmer hold, "leave her out of this, Jake! Why are you playing with her?" 

"Can't you see Jaeyun? I like her!" Though there was a visible facade of hurt on Jake's face, you could clearly see the fury behind his eyes threatening to overtake any minute. "Like her enough that you were going to abandon your own brother?" The hand that was holding you made its way towards your cheek, he leaned forward to whisper, "I'm so sorry you got dragged into this, I should have protected you better." You could see how hurt he was, the slight tremble of his lips, the hesitation when he touched you, the slight glossiness of his eyes, the shallow breaths. These twins, Jake and Jaeyun, were so alike yet completely different from one another.

Suddenly Jaeyun was pulled backwards by his hair, his feet scrambled beneath him, thrown off balance by the push. Your hands instinctively reached forward to grip him but a sudden, tight and strong grip on your throat held you in place. You screamed in pain, accidently putting your weight on your injured leg due to the sheer pressure of his actions. "You're supposed to be mine, mine to hold, mine to keep....you understand?" Your nails scratched his forearm, "I-I can't b-breathe." You could almost see whites behind your eyes due to the force he was exerting on your neck, and you heard Jaeyun before you could even see him throw a punch on Jake's face, "I warned you to leave her out of this didn't I?" Your hand found its way towards your neck as you coughed and Jake stumbled back.

"Did you just-? Did you just hit me?" Jake looked at his twin, baffled by his actions. Between both of them Jaeyun had always been the tamed one, the one who was shy, quiet, reserved and soft in a way everyone liked him whereas Jake was the bratty one, the one who was confident, loud, reckless and harsh in a way he always called for trouble. He remembers constantly being compared to his twin who was much better than him in everything, yet Jaeyun was kind enough to always see the good in him and forever stand by his side. Jaeyun never abandoned Jake, not when the school expelled him for constantly breaking the rules, destroying school's property and harming few students and a teacher in a fit of rage, not when he broke the neighbors front door when they were out because they complained to their parents about loud noises when he played games at midnight, not when his parents contemplated about sending him to psychiatric hospital when he got diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder. 

He remembers his mother crying day and night over his actions, and his father consoling her. Jaeyun was by his side through everything, he made sure his brother knew that he had someone by his side. Their parents stopped him from going out all together so he won't hurt anyone, and despite Jake becoming an outcast Jaeyun was the only person keeping him grounded. He remembers Jaeyun fighting with their parents to stop them from sending him to a psychiatric hospital, and how shocked he was to find Jaeyun knocking on his window one fateful night after months of being in no contact with any of his family members. Jaeyun believed all Jake wanted was to be treated like a normal person, he couldn't imagine his brother confined into a single room for heaven knows how long. Their parents abandoned him so Jaeyun abandoned them in retaliation. 

That's how it all started, Jaeyun would switch with Jake in the hospital for a week so Jake could live like a normal person. It was a point in Jake's life when he realized his brother would do anything for him, and he couldn't be more thankful to have him by his side. But Jake has always been selfish, and he knew Jaeyun's soft heart would never really understand how twisted he really was. Jaeyun was the only person who Jake trusted with all his heart. Jaeyun never really questioned him whenever he went a little too far with his actions. That was a new normal for them, Jaeyun sacrificed his own freedom and let Jake have half of it. 

Jaeyun was the first brother you met, and like a clockwork, he acted indifferent towards you like he did with everyone, but he couldn't help his heartbeat around you, couldn't help how drawn he was to you. And Jake knew Jaeyun like the back of his hand, he notices every little change, so he noticed the changes in Jaeyun's behavior too. Jake found you interesting when he first saw you, so unguarded, so serene, he couldn't help but want to taint your calm. It gave him an adrenaline whenever he watched you get flustered, nervous, a mess in front of him. It made him feel something after years of feeling nothing. 

Then the following weeks came, when he started noticing more about your and Jaeyun's bond, he watched it all, through the bathroom's crooked door space. That's the place they always switched their presence without anyone noticing for years, the worn-out, rusty ventilation window of the bathroom, big enough to climb and pass through. The security guard was always asleep during night time anyway, and both of the brothers were precise in their actions, years of sneaking in and out making them more sleath. Jaeyun knew his twin all the same, he could sense something was going on in his head when Jake started being more chirpy about the idea of meeting you. 

But Jaeyun shrugged it off, Mrs. Lee or Dr. Byeon never caught up to their switches, all both of them had to do was stay indifferent, answer shortly, avoid speaking too much. Sometimes Jake would lose cool, which would end up with him being chained up to safeguard everyone and him. But it was a passing problem, Jake realized that soon enough, manipulating his behavior to gain the trust and go back to the routine, the handful of nurses and doctors of the old hospital were too tired to bother about minute differences in details anyway. And both of them thought no one would even bother with their little slip ups, so when you questioned Jaeyun about the previous week's checkup and about the disappearance of the bruises on his wrist, which he never really paid attention to before, he was terrified. He did what he could think was the best for you in those few seconds, he scared you, just like they did with every other new nurse who showed even the slightest bit of suspicion. Jaeyun thought it would be best if you leave, he did it to protect you from getting cornered by his brother, even when it broke his heart to treat you so poorly. 

"I told you to stay away from her Jake," Jaeyun softly pushed you behind him with his hand on your stomach. His other hand was still clenched in fist, aching from the punch he threw at Jake. He felt betrayed by Jake in a way, he waited for him to show up to switch places like usual but he was nowhere to be found. Now, Jaeyun agrees there have been instances where this had happened before and it wasn't a big deal, but Jaeyun was scared Jake knew about his feelings for you and he was afraid it wouldn't do any good for either of you. He waited and waited but his anxiety took the best of him and he left in search of his brother, but stumbled upon you in the middle of the road instead. 

From where you stood behind Jaeyun, you could see Jake's gaze trained on the way Jaeyun's hand held you, then back towards you face. His lips twitched, a scoff of disbelief escaping him as he glared at you. You recoiled a few steps away, hands instinctively going up towards your neck, which was now sore and had definitely started forming bruises. He took a few steps towards you and Jaeyun cut him off by firmly standing in between you, the tension between them palpable. 

"Can't you see Jaeyun? I really love her, I want to be with her, she feels the same, I visited her in her apartment," you could see the slight tension in Jaeyun's shoulder as those words left his brother's mouth. He took a deep breath trying to rationalize with Jake, "you're not in love with her, you're being obsessed, there's a difference, and following her and breaking into her house isn't normal." Jaeyun's voice was low but steady, almost as a warning waiting to be heard. Jaeyun took a few steps back, your hand finding his, he turned his head towards you for a brief moment, his fingers intertwined with yours in a subtle way to assure you he's with you. Jake took a few more steps forward, the gleam in his eyes was dark and calculating as he glared at Jaeyun, "oh so now I get it, when she smiles at you, it's destiny. But when she talks with me, I'm obsessed and it's not normal?" 

Jaeyun's breath hitch, "you're twisting things, you always do this-" Jake cut him off, "because you make it easier for me to do that. Don't you think she'd want to be with someone who is confident like me? Someone who will do anything for her? You think being the good one will make her choose you because of some moral obligations?" He leaned closer towards Jaeyun, "you know she kissed me in her apartment, she even promised to help me heal and be with me." Jaeyun's expressions faltered for a second and that was enough for Jake to know he's got his brother where he wanted him to be.

"See?" Jake whispered, "she doesn't want you the way she wants me, she's just a bit rattled. Maybe deep down she knows the one who's willing to fight for her love at all cost might love her harder than the one who's currently trying to be her knight in shining armor." You limped forward, pulling Jaeyun towards you to break the tension in between them by creating some distance. Jaeyun stepped back, his face void of color but his eyes burning, "don't drag her into this, don't try to turn her into a prize just because she was able to ignite some emotions in you. And I won't let you break her just so you could win to satisfy your ego." 

"Are you hurt because you thought I'm abandoning you for her? I wanted to get you out of that hospital and we could've lived happily after. But you just ruined that by running away from the hospital." At Jake's words Jaeyun exploded, lightly removing your hands from him before grabbing his brother's collar, "you weren't going to do any of that, you don't care about anyone else but yourself! You only want her because you know that I do! For you this is just another game, to win, to let your ego know that you're the better twin!" Jake stared back, cold and composed but you could feel the anger threatening to spill out from his eyes, "is that what you think? You finally agree that you'd choose a girl rather than your brother's happiness? I think you're starting to finally show that you hate me. Maybe you silently prayed that I never existed."

Silence stretched between them, both of them just waiting for the other to back down, then Jake huffed a breath, "you've always been the favorite child, the golden one if you asked me. Everyone loved you, trusted you, spoke highly of you. They never cared about me, never really heard my story unless it was you who narrated it. I'm tired of you." Jaeyun released his hold, breathing hard at Jake's confession, "I did choose you, Jake. Everytime you rebelled, everytime you destroyed things, everytime you hurt someone, I covered for you, I stood by your side. I even abandoned our parents because they abandoned you. I came back to you, agreed to give up everything so you could get an ounce of freedom and what did you conclude? I've loved you more than you ever deserved Jake!"

Jaeyun continued, "You've always found a way to let things go your way...I won't let that happen with her. Not because I want to win against you but because I know you'll destroy her." Jake's eyes travelled towards you then back at Jaeyun, "you think I'm that fucked in the head?" Jaeyun's eyes wandered towards the sky before they landed back on Jake, "I know you are." You stood quietly, letting them have their moment, it was funny really, two brothers fighting over you yet you didn't have a say in it. But as Jaeyun hugged Jake tightly, holding him close as if it was the last time he'll ever hold his brother like this, you realized who you had chosen after all.

Jake's eyes wandered towards you as he hugged Jaeyun back, taking in your condition. The dirty clothes, the bruised hands and neck, hair messy, face smudged with a mix of tears and dirt, your shoe bloodied due to the injury. Jake broke the hug as he made his way towards you. You took a step back, eyes darting towards Jaeyun who nodded reassuringly at you. "Will you be by his side forever?" His eyebrow arched as he waited to hear your answer, a hint of confusion gracing your features, "why are you asking me that?" You weren't sure if he would once again trick and harm you so you maintained your distance. 

Jake took out your phone from his pocket, dangling in front of your face before continuing, "do you have feelings for him or not?" You tried to grab your phone when he stretched his hand out of your reach, "you need to answer first pretty..." you shivered at the pet name used, eyes trailing towards Jaeyun then back at Jake's, you nodded your head reluctantly, eyebrows creasing in awkwardness because this is the first time you've admitted about your feelings in front of other. Jaeyun's breath hitched and Jake looked down for a second, deep in thought. For a few minutes, all of you just stayed still, processing everything, then Jake cleared his throat, opening your phone and typing something before tossing the phone back in your hand. 

He put his hands in his pocket, turning around towards his twin and just took in his presence. Jaeyun looked at him confused, his steps leading him towards where you and Jake were standing. Screeching of tyres and car engines disrupted the stillness established, you and Jaeyun exchanged glances as no one dared to move. Two cars stopped right in front of you, your eyes widening in realization, 4 security guards, Dr. Byeon, and Nurse Hong made their way towards you. Their gaze confused as they landed on Jake and Jaeyun, your stopped breathing, trembling hands unlocking your phone to check the last activity. Jake had messaged the hospital about his whereabouts. 

Jake made his way towards the security guards, to enter the car when Jaeyun stopped him, his eyes filled with tears as he hugged his twin. Jake sighed as he briefly hugged Jaeyun then pushed him in your direction, then turning towards Dr. Byeon to explain everything. You took a step forward, hands sliding in Jaeyun's in silent comfort. You could feel the pain, the love, the longing he felt as he watched Jake enter the car to go back to the hospital, his words loud and clear even from the distance, "maybe it's time for me to actually get better, I promise I'll be out of the hospital in no time in a much better state." Jaeyun sobbed in your shoulder as he watched the cars go. 

You decided it would be best for you to have a long vacation before you rejoined the hospital, Jaeyun was by your side taking care of you the whole time. The town was still the same, but it didn't feel that detached because he was by your side. You don't feel lonely now. You and Jaeyun decided it would be better to find another apartment for you since that place gave you nightmares, and it was only after all your injuries were healed that Jaeyun discussed his need to go for therapy. You assured him that it was the best decision and that you supported him. Your new apartment was right beside Sunoo's so now you had a companion to be with while going to work. His mom occasionally sends you food and invites you home so you don't feel homesick. 

The hospital authority finally decided to renovate the building, and more alert security was placed around the hospital. The room no. 015 was now completely sealed and turned into a storage room. It was safe to say everyone was baffled to their core when they learned how the brother's used to swap the places. More staff were appointed to the hospital to not burden the current staff to the point that mistakes like this happened again. And as for Jake, Jaeyun occasionally visited him, who was reluctant at first to meet his brother but then eased off since Jaeyun was very persuasive. Dr. Byeon decided he himself would monitor Jake and had informed you about his progress and cooperation and even though you still get chills from that night, you still hope he'll recover fast. 

"Hello, is anyone there!" You grinned when you enter the local diner, Uncle Noh, the middle aged cashier just gave you his signature deadpan look, "your smile gives me chills, but to answer your question unfortunately, yes..." you closed the door and made your way towards him anyway, now completely immune to his edgy personality. He called out Jaeyun's name before you could even reach him, a mop of dark hair peeking from behind the back door. You waved at him enthusiastically and he lit up as he rounded the counter and hugged you tight. 

"Gross, children nowadays make me sick with their pda," you laughed in Jaeyun's chest as Uncle Noh made his way inside the backroom, again. You felt Jaeyun kiss the top of your head, you pulled back slightly, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He kissed your temple before leaning in to put his forehead against yours. "You're done with your work early today," you smiled at his words as you kissed his nose, "I wanted to spend some time with you, so I completed my work with more enthusiasm, it's the weekend now." Jaeyun laughed at your excited tone, ruffling your hair a bit, he excused himself to gather his things so you could go back to your house. Initially Jaeyun decided it would be better to live separately, he wanted to learn how to live his life on his own and not be dependent on you. When you felt confident that he could survive on his own, you asked him if he would be okay with moving in and he agreed.

Jaeyun cooked dinner and while you finished taking a shower, you made your way towards him. He jumped slightly but relaxed when he felt your arms sneak inside his shirt and rest. He relaxed his body as you prepped kisses on his neck and shoulder. Your fingernails gently scratching his skin from his chest to his hips. He shuddered at your touch, biting back a whimper when you bit his ear. His hands held yours as he exhaled and let you continue. He would be lying if he said he didn't miss having you like this. 

"You visited Jake today, right?" You felt him nod his head, "he says Mrs. Lee told him he's improving." You smiled at his words and listened as he carefully told you about his visit. "He says he wants to apologize to you, but isn't sure if you're okay with it..." Jaeyun's voice was careful and cautious as he said those words to you, you stilled for a moment, though you acknowledged and encouraged Jake's will to get better you were yet to gain courage to face him. But maybe it was time to put all those things in the past and start anew. 

Jaeyun turned around in your arms after turning off the stove, then lifting you up and placing you on the counter. Your hands found home around his neck, his hands squeezing your plush things before sliding towards your knees. He pulled you towards the edge of the counter, parting your legs and smirking while slotting himself in between him. A small whine left your lips when he rubbed against your sensitive spot, a small smirk playing on his lips as he dipped his head low and captured your lips with his. Your one hand slid through his hair, scratching at his scalp while the other held onto his shoulder for dear life. He slid his tongue across your bottom lips and you parted your lips to let him deepen the kiss. One of his hands wrapped around the nape of your neck to pull you closer while his other roamed around your body till it reached your boobs. 

You moaned in his mouth when he gently squeezed it, hips grinding against his to create some friction to your aching core. He groaned sensing your needy state, his mind contemplating between eating the dinner or eating you out instead, his personal favorite was the latter. He secured your legs around his waist and carried you towards the bedroom, not breaking the kiss. He hoisted you against the closed door of your bedroom, a bit impatient, his hands searching for the door knob as he trailed kisses from your jaw to your neck and collarbone. You whined as he bit your sensitive spot, then soothe it with his tongue. It was messy, the way he made love with you but it was endearing nonetheless. 

He sighed deeply, opening the door and placing you on the mattress, his steps clumsy but you were too needy for his touch to even care. He climbed on top of you, your hands reaching for the buttons on his shirt and opening them with your trembling fingers, he chuckled lightly at you before helping you with the rest of the buttons and threw his shirt somewhere behind him. Your fingernails trailed down from his chest to his stomach and he shuddered, leaning down till he caged you in between his arms. His lips met yours again, his hands pulling at the hem of your (his) shirt that you were wearing. You pushed him a little bit, getting up to pull the shirt off of you. He hissed when he saw that you wore nothing underneath the shirt. 

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured against your skin as he lapped at the sensitive skin of your breast, purposefully ignoring the spot you needed him to pay attention to. Your back arched off the bed, wanting, needing, craving his mouth around your nipples. You pulled his hair, hard, your action making him moan, you could feel him grow hard from where he was situated in between your thighs, your hips rutting against it. "You're being too impatient today baby," yet he couldn't help but grind his hips against yours to maximize the friction. "Need you Jae, so bad," his lips met yours to drown out your moans. Your neediness makes him lose control, "yeah baby? How bad? Can't even wait to take the clothes off before you cum?" 

You nodded your head, your eyes glassy with lust. He groaned, adjusting his position so his clothed bulge was pressed directly upon your clothed pussy, he spread your legs wider, folding your knees for better access. You pulled him close so his body was pressed against yours as he began moving back and forth against your pussy. "So needy," he huffed and you closed your eyes feeling overwhelmed by the emotions. Jaeyun, ever the sweet guy, noticed your actions, he put his forehead on yours, not once stopping the movements of his hips against yours, "you close baby?" you moaned in response, your body trembling as you reached your climax, your breath heavy as you opened your eyes, he followed right after you, collapsing on top of you. 

You rubbed his back while he caught his breath. His head nuzzled at the crook of your neck. He pulled away slightly to kiss you softly, "I love you baby." You smiled at his shy expression, cupping his cheek as you mumbled a quiet, "I love you too." He ran towards the bathroom, changing into clean sweatpants, and came back with a wet cloth to help you clean. You stayed sprawled on the bed as he removed your shorts along with your panties and cleaned you up. He threw the cloth on the laundry basket and helped you get dressed into clean pajamas. You spread your arms when you were done with everything, he happily obliged, head nuzzling on your chest as he let himself rest. 

"You know," He started after a few moments of silence, you hummed in response, feeling tired, "even though we met in very unusual circumstances, I'm glad I met you. You're one of the best things that has happened in my life." Your heartbeat quickened at his unexpected confession, knowing that being vulnerable is something he had always struggled with. He chuckled at your raised heartbeat, "I can hear your heartbeat you know, it's kinda funny it's you who is flustered." You pushed him off of you, grabbing the pillow at hitting him, "you should be glad I love you, don't forget how your heartbeat used to get hiked up whenever I used to perform an auscultation on you." He laughed at your words, grabbing your hands and pulling your body flush against his, "I know, I found you so pretty I couldn't help myself, God forbid a man is utterly infatuated by the love of his life." You just shook your head, hands wrapping around his torso, you could get used to this. 

[addictedtohobi]

HATE TO HAVE YOU p.js

synopsis ⤑ You were here for work. That was it. You didn’t even like hockey players. They were too raunchy, too noisy, just too much. You were a put your head down and listen to classical music through your headphones, type of girl. Your brother was a hockey player, your dad as well. All you wanted to do was help people, not fall in love with clients that were off limits. Clients who were the captain of the hockey team your dad coached. No, he was very much off limits and he would most certainly hate to have you. 

pairings ⤑ hockey player!jay x coaches daughter!reader word count ⤑ 34k

warnings ⤑ smut, oral (m. rec.), forbidden romance, mentions of hockey injuries, angst, parental angst, kinda yearning jay???

crossing the line masterlist here.

a note from rain; it's done. crossing the line is finally finished, and the last one this one is the longest. Honestly, my favorite one is Sunghoon's but this one is i will hold dear to me since it is the conclusion. Thank you to everyone who has read and loved crossing the line as much as i have. ily

The diner always smelled like old coffee and fried memories. Grease clung to the air like a second skin, settling into the cushions of red vinyl booths and the strands of your hair no matter how tightly you kept your hood drawn. Outside, Seoul had cracked open into winter’s throat, grey light pressing through the glass like fogged breath on a mirror, leaving halos around the fluorescent signage. You sat in a corner booth by the window, jacket still zipped, hands tucked into your sleeves like you could hide your disappointment in the folds of fabric. The waitress didn’t ask for your order; she knew you. You’d been here before, many times before, waiting for a man who never came. So she brought your tea without a word and left it there to steep and grow cold. You were not surprised.

No, this sort of thing had long ago stopped being shocking. You were just…tired. Tired in the way only daughters of distant fathers could be, tired in your bones, your breath, your blood. You stirred your tea absentmindedly, watching the bag swirl like a limp ghost tethered to nothing. Your phone sat face-up beside the cup, silent and useless, save for the three unanswered texts and one call that had gone straight to voicemail. You didn’t leave a message. What was the point? If Coach Bennett cared to call you back, he would. But he never did, not when you scraped your knees learning to ride a bike, not when you stood alone at your middle school science fair, not when you left home for university. Hockey always came first. Always. 

And yet, somehow, impossibly, you still wanted his help. 

You weren’t here to be his daughter today. No, you were here for something more transactional, something clinical, something you thought he might be able to handle better than love. You were studying to be a sports therapist. Four years of aching backs, anatomy charts, injury reports, textbooks that read like they’d been translated from another language. You wanted to help people. Heal them. Tape their fractures, ease their bruises, guide them gently back to the things they loved. It made sense, in some twisted, ironic way, that your professors had suggested you intern under your father’s team. He was a seasoned coach, after all. Revered. Tough. Efficient. And you were nothing if not logical, so despite the rotting ache in your chest, the cold cup of tea, the flaking vinyl under your thighs, you had agreed to meet him and ask for the position. You’d rehearsed the words. I’m not asking for favoritism. I just want experience. I can do the job. I’ll keep my head down. I promise.

But now, the booth was empty except for you and your churning disappointment. Even the jukebox refused to play, the silence punctuated only by the clink of cutlery and the occasional bell over the door. Your eyes drifted to the window again, catching your own reflection faintly superimposed over the world outside: still, with shadows under your eyes and something hollow about the mouth. Not sad. Just used to it. There’s a difference. Eventually, the weight of waiting tipped you out of the booth, and you slipped your coat back on like armor. Your headphones dangled around your neck, the edges of a Bach concerto still humming faintly from the right side, but you didn’t lift them up. Not yet. You needed clarity, not comfort.

There was only one place he ever went this time of day. The ice rink. And so, you walked. Outside, the wind curled under your scarf like fingers seeking a pulse. Streetlamps flickered overhead, their bulbs blinking like tired eyes. Seoul was a city that didn’t sleep so much as dream with its eyes open, neon blinking against concrete, traffic lights blinking in cold Morse code. You passed through it like a shadow in motion, barely noticed, anonymous. Just the way you liked it.

When you reached the rink, it loomed like a cathedral of frost and echo. You could see your breath crystallizing in the air as you stepped inside, the glass doors groaning shut behind you. The chill wrapped itself around your bones, but you welcomed it. Cold was easier to handle than hurt. Cold made you sharp. Precise. Focused. The fluorescent lights buzzed above as you made your way down the corridor, the familiar scent of rubber and sweat filling your lungs. The hum of skates on ice reverberated faintly through the walls, scrapes, stops, a dull thud against the boards. Music, in its own rough language. You passed trophy cases lined with glimmering relics, photographs of boys with helmets crooked on their heads, their eyes wild with victory. One of them was your father, decades ago; before he grew bitter and distant, before he learned how to love the game more than he could ever love a family.

You expected the rink to be quiet, still and empty as a prayer unspoken. But as you stepped through the doors, the cold air kissed your cheeks with the gentleness of a ghost, and you heard it: the unmistakable scrape of blades against ice. Not chaos, not the frenzied thunder of a team in motion. Just one. A lone figure gliding back and forth, carving perfect arcs into the surface like a calligrapher with a silver pen. You paused at the boards, the glass cool beneath your fingertips, watching him move, fluid and sure, even in solitude. He skated like someone who didn’t need an audience. Who wasn’t chasing applause, just clarity. Repetition. Discipline. He wove through imaginary obstacles with practiced grace, the sound of his skates echoing like poetry in an empty room. You could almost forget how much you disliked hockey in moments like this, when it looked like dance, when it sounded like breath, when it shimmered with something close to silence.

You lifted your hand, tapped gently on the glass. Just once. He startled. The boy spun with a sharp jerk, arms splaying briefly for balance before he caught himself, chest rising with the kind of laugh you could only hear in body language. He glided toward you, a sheepish grin tugging at his mouth, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes beneath the helmet. He stopped just before the boards, breath fogging the space between you, and when he pulled his mouth guard down, his voice was warmer than you expected.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, with an apologetic nod, “but this is a closed practice.” You blinked. Not at the words, but at the way he said them, so earnestly, like a knight gently turning away a princess at the edge of a battlefield. His voice didn’t have the bite most hockey players used with girls near the boards. No teasing arrogance, no swagger. Just simple, practiced courtesy.

You smiled without thinking, soft and shy and almost surprised by your own reaction. “I’m too young to be called ma’am,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He blinked, then fumbled for a response, cheeks blooming with something faint and pink, even in the cold. “Oh—God, I—sorry. I just—my mom raised me that way. To be respectful. To women. Not that you’re old—I didn’t mean—I wasn’t saying that—” He trailed off, face contorting with the kind of mortified sincerity you rarely got to see outside of romantic comedies.

You let yourself laugh. Quiet, melodic. Just enough to lighten the air. “It’s okay,” you said gently, your voice muffled just slightly by your scarf. 

He blinked again, eyes flicking briefly down, then back up, as though recalibrating everything he assumed about the world and his place in it. His hands fidgeted with the edges of his gloves, and he glanced over his shoulder, as if remembering that he was the only one on the ice. “Still, I’m sorry, really. The rink’s closed to non-personnel. I — I can’t really let anyone just come in. Even if you’re not a… ma’am.” His smile was a little crooked now, tilted with humor at his own expense, and you couldn’t help it, you liked the way it softened his face. You liked the way he stood there, unsure, waiting, instead of telling you to leave outright. You lowered your hood, let your voice rise just enough to reach him clearly.

“I’m looking for Coach Bennett,” you said. “He’s my father.” The effect was immediate. He straightened like he’d been struck by lightning, helmet tilting back slightly as he stared at you with wide, stunned eyes.

“Wait—Coach Bennett’s daughter?” he echoed, like the words didn’t quite fit in his mouth. Then again, more flustered: “You’re—oh my God, I—I didn’t know—I mean I would’ve—God, I’m sorry.” He scrambled to unclip his helmet, fingers tangling in the strap before he finally pulled it off, revealing a mop of dark hair and a face flushed with either embarrassment or exertion, or both. He was handsome in a way that didn’t feel intentional. His features were sharp, yes, and he had the jawline of a boy who could ruin hearts without meaning to. But there was something open about him, something too human to be threatening.

“Really sorry again,” he said, standing straighter now, as though trying to look more official. “Coach is in his office—I can show you where it is. If you want. I mean, of course you want. You’re here to see him. So yeah. Come with me.” You bit your lip to hide another smile and nodded, falling into step behind him as he pushed open the side gate and stepped off the ice with surprising grace. The blades of his skates clinked against the rubber matting as he led you down the corridor. He didn’t speak at first, and neither did you. It was comfortable, the silence. Not the awkward kind. Just… quiet. Reverent. As though something soft and strange had entered the air and neither of you wanted to scare it off.

When he stopped outside your father’s office, he turned to you again. His eyes were warmer now. Curious. Kind. “I’m Jay, by the  way,” he said. “Captain of the team.” Of course he was.

You nodded once. “Nice to meet you, Captain.” And then you knocked. But for a heartbeat before your father’s voice called you in, you could feel Jay still looking at you, like he was trying to solve a riddle written in your eyes. And in that fleeting moment, you didn’t feel like a coach’s daughter. You felt like a secret worth keeping.

Coach Bennett’s office smelled like old sweat and ambition. The kind that settled into the corners, into the folds of jackets slung over chairs, into the woodgrain of the desk itself, soaked in over years of lost games and close calls. The room wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. It felt clinical, hollow, like it didn’t belong to a person so much as to the idea of one. Hockey posters curled slightly at the edges, clinging to cinder block walls. The light overhead flickered with a low hum, casting everything in a tired, blue-toned glaze. He was there, hunched over a chaos of papers like a priest at his altar, eyes scanning injury reports and scouting notes as if he could rearrange fate with a red pen. You didn’t knock. Not this time. 

The door creaked open like a protest, and your footsteps broke the hush as you stepped inside. He didn’t look up at first, so absorbed in his paperwork that he didn’t hear the threshold of silence cracking like ice beneath your presence. But when he finally did, when your shadow crossed into his peripheral and your scent, faintly like jasmine and old books, stirred the air, he looked up, and his whole body stilled. His eyes widened with something between guilt and surprise, the pen in his hand faltering mid-sentence. The creases in his brow deepened like riverbeds. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the papers aside like they were something shameful. “I forgot. I—I’m sorry, I—” 

“Don’t,” you cut in, quiet but sharp. Not angry, just done. The kind of tone that grows in the lungs of girls who have been left at too many diners. “It’s whatever.” You stepped closer, not to bridge the gap, but to exist plainly in the room; as yourself, not a child in need of anything emotional. Just a student now. A professional. Someone with a clipboard of her own, even if metaphorical. You kept your coat on. Your scarf still looped tight at your throat. You weren’t here to unpack old things. You were here to ask for a favor. He sat back in his chair, watching you warily now, like you might say something he wasn’t prepared to hear. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice carefully neutral. 

“I need a team,” you said simply. “For my internship.” He blinked, clearly caught off-guard. You inhaled slowly, pressing your hands into your coat pockets so he wouldn’t see how tightly they curled. “For the school. I’m in the sports medicine track. Therapy. I need a team to tour with. Help the players after games. Manage muscle strain. Recovery. Things like that.” 

You watched his face shift as he absorbed the words. Something almost like pride flitted behind his eyes for a moment, brief, cautious, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he was allowed to feel it. “Of course,” he said without hesitation. “You can work with us.” That fast. No negotiation. No warnings. No conditions. Just an open door.

You didn’t smile. Not really. But a breath left you; just one. Like the first note in a song you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your chest. “Thank you,” you said, not out of gratitude, but necessity. The way you might thank a stranger who held a door open. Polite. Distant. You turned to leave. But of course, he had to say it. Had to reach across the gulf between now and then. “I really am sorry,” he murmured, just as your fingers grazed the handle. You paused. Not long. Just long enough for him to hope.

Then you shook your head once, gently, like you were brushing a snowflake off your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” Because you’d learned long ago how to build yourself from all the words he didn’t say. You didn’t need apologies. You didn’t need explanations. You needed a future. And you’d just stepped into it.

Outside, the sound of skates had stopped. Silence had settled again like fresh snowfall. And somewhere in the belly of the building, Jay was probably unlacing his boots, running his hands through his hair, wondering about the girl who tapped on the glass like she belonged on the outside looking in. And maybe she still did. But not for much longer. Because from here on out, you would walk through every door like it owed you something. And whether they liked it or not, you were on the team now. 

The rink always had a certain silence before practice, like a church before mass, where the faithful trickled in one by one, lacing up their skates like ritual, shrugging on jerseys like armor. The air was sharp, biting, clean in the way winter mornings were clean, unforgiving but pure. Jay had always liked that about hockey: the brutal grace of it. How something so violent could also be so precise. How blades could slice through frozen water like poetry written too fast. He stood at center ice, tapping the butt of his stick against the boards while the rest of the team gathered, jerseys fluttering slightly in the wake of their motion. There was a quiet hum of voices, low laughter, murmured complaints about the early hour, the chill, the drills surely to come. Jay felt the same pre-practice electricity that always curled under his skin, warm and charged and constant, but there was something else today. Something different. A shift in the air.

Sunghoon slid up beside him, eyes narrowed. His movements were slower than usual, still cautious after weeks of physical therapy. But there was that familiar smirk, like mischief lived permanently in his mouth. “Any idea why Coach called us early?” he asked, stretching one leg experimentally behind him. 

Jay shook his head, brows furrowing. “No clue. This wasn’t on the schedule. Even I just got the text.” 

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “And the great Captain Jay doesn’t know? Guess it’s serious.” Jay didn’t answer, but his mind turned. Coach Bennett didn’t do things last minute, not unless something was off, or something was about to change. And Jay had learned, over the years, to pay attention to change. To study its rhythm. To anticipate the way it could shatter routine like glass beneath a puck. Coach appeared then, stepping out from the tunnel with that familiar commanding presence, clipboard in hand like a sword, whistle bouncing lightly against his chest. His expression was unreadable. It always was. But today there was a glint in his eye, a sharpness, like he was bracing for something no one else could yet see. The team quieted instantly. Skates stilled. Conversations stopped.

“Listen up,” Coach said, voice firm but even. “I’ve got an announcement.” Jay felt his spine straighten out of instinct. He always did when Bennett spoke like that; like something important was about to be carved into stone.

“My daughter,” the coach began, pausing just a second too long, “will be joining the team.” A beat of silence. Then confusion cracked through the ice like a jagged fault line. Heads turned. Eyebrows raised. A few muttered responses, some curious, some amused.

Sunghoon leaned in again, voice low. “Wait — coach has a daughter?” Jay didn’t respond. He was too busy sorting through the flicker of memory from the night before: the knock on the glass, the girl with the music still folded around her like armor, the soft voice that said I’m too young to be called ma’am. The gentle dismissal, I’m here to see Coach Bennett. 

Coach cleared his throat. “To clarify, she’s not playing.” A few guys chuckled awkwardly, one of the rookies whispering something under his breath about whether Coach’s daughter could skate. He was promptly elbowed. “She’s a student in sports medicine,” Bennett continued, eyes scanning them like a general addressing soldiers. “She needs an internship. She’ll be traveling with us, working with you all post-practice, post-game — helping your muscles recover, monitoring fatigue, treating strain. You’ll see her on the bench. In the locker room. On the road.” 

Jay watched as the team absorbed this. Some looked impressed, some still confused. A few clearly still processing the idea of a girl, the coach’s daughter, no less being part of their inner circle. Coach’s gaze fell to Sunghoon. “You’ll be working with her the most at first.” 

Sunghoon blinked. “Me?” 

“You’re still coming off that leg injury. She’ll be helping your mobility and monitoring your recovery. You miss any check-ins, I’ll know.” Sunghoon nodded slowly, the surprise quickly replaced by professionalism. Jay knew he hated being treated like glass, but he’d also never refuse a chance to speed up healing. Not when playoffs were on the horizon.

Coach looked back at the group as a whole then, jaw set like he was preparing to say something final. “She’ll be here tomorrow. Watching your style. Observing how you move. How you break down. How you come back.” He paused again, the silence stretching like a taut wire. “She’ll be with us every day. Every game. Every trip.” Then his voice dropped just slightly, softer, but more dangerous. Like frost underfoot you didn’t notice until you were falling.

“And she’s off limits.” That silenced even the whispers. “No dating. No flirting. No ‘accidental’ drinks after practice. She’s not here to be your distraction. She’s not here for you to impress. She is a part of this team now. And that means she’s under my protection.” Jay felt something tighten in his chest, an invisible thread pulling taut. Because the words made perfect sense. They were rational. They were fair. Still, he couldn’t shake the image of her from the night before. The way she stood with snow melting on her coat, headphones tucked like secrets around her neck. The way she didn’t smile with her mouth, but with the corner of her eyes. The way she said thank you like it wasn’t a gift, but a necessity. Polite. Distant. And now she would be here, every day. A ghost walking among them. Not haunting; but changing the temperature of every room.

“Understood?” Coach asked, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. The team nodded. In uneven unison. A few shared glances. One or two looked like they’d already started mourning the idea of flirtation. Jay just said nothing. He wasn’t planning on breaking any rules. He never had. But something in his gut told him that this particular rule wouldn’t break loudly. It would break quietly. Like a blade slicing through ice. And the sound wouldn’t be heard until it was too late.

The locker room after practice was its own kind of cathedral, sacred, exhausted, and a little broken. The air still hummed with the echoes of movement: the scrape of blades off concrete, the thud of pads being stripped away, the muffled laughter of boys who were half-wolves when they played and half-children when the ice was gone. It always smelled like the aftermath of effort, sweat, steel, cold leather, and adrenaline fading into silence. Jay moved like a ritualist through it, toweling off damp hair, peeling away his jersey, hanging it neatly in his locker like a soldier laying down his colors. The room had grown quiet now, most of the team already gone, off to late dinners, to laugh about drills over ramen and muscle aches. Jay remained behind, as he often did, not because he had to but because some part of him needed the stillness. 

He liked to stay until the air was empty. Until it was just him and the hum of fluorescent lights above, buzzing like tired thoughts. He didn’t hear Coach Bennett at first. Not until he felt the weight of a presence at his back, and then the familiar sound of heavy boots on tile. Jay turned, towel slung around his neck, hair dripping dark at his temples. The man stood there, shoulders squared, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t speak immediately. He never did. He was the kind of man who let the silence do the talking until the words felt necessary. 

“Coach,” Jay said softly, straightening a little, though the comfort between them ran bone-deep. “Everything alright?” Coach’s eyes flicked over him, assessing, calculating, not as a player, but as a person. He gave a small nod, stepping forward. “Got a favor to ask you.”

Jay nodded instantly, without thought. “Anything.” And he meant it. Because if Jay had a compass in this world, it pointed north toward Bennett. Always had. He didn’t come from much, not stability, not praise, not the kind of family who cheered at games. But Coach saw him. Had plucked him out of obscurity like a diamond mistaken for coal, shaped him, believed in him when no one else even bothered to learn his name. Made him captain. Made him better. Taught him that strength wasn’t loudness, but consistency. That leadership wasn’t glory, but showing up, day after day, even when no one clapped.

Coach laid a hand on his shoulder, heavy and solid like a benediction. “It’s about my daughter.” Jay stilled, just slightly. The name unspoken but implied, hanging in the air like frost, delicate and dangerous. He swallowed once, slowly.

“She’s new to all this,” Coach went on, voice quieter now, like the edges of him softened when he spoke of her. “And I know this team. Hell, I built this team. I know how boys act when there’s someone soft in the room. And she’s not here for that. She’s here to work. To learn.” 

Jay’s jaw tensed faintly, but he kept his voice even. “Of course, Coach.” 

“I need someone to make sure the guys don’t get any ideas. That they remember she’s not a conquest, or a game, or something to write about in a group chat. And she doesn’t need to know I asked. She’d hate that. She’s got my pride.” He gave a small, humorless chuckle then, rubbing the back of his neck like the confession cost him something. “She already thinks I don’t see her. If she finds out I’m watching her through other people’s eyes, it’ll just make it worse.” 

Jay nodded again, slower this time. The weight of the request sank into his skin like bruises not yet visible. He could feel it, the invisible line being drawn, taut and fine and humming with tension. The line between loyalty and temptation. Between what was right and what had already started to stir quietly in the marrow of him. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Jay said, and his voice didn’t falter, not even once. “I’ll make sure the guys don’t bother her. She’ll be safe. I promise.”

Coach’s eyes lingered on him, long and searching. For a moment Jay wondered if he saw it, whatever it was that had flickered in Jay’s chest when she knocked on the glass, when her eyes met his with that quiet, disarming clarity. But if he did, he didn’t speak of it. He just gave one firm nod, and a clap on the back that thudded like approval, or gratitude, or maybe a little bit of both. “Good man,” he said simply. “I knew I could count on you.” Jay smiled faintly. It was small. Hollowed. 

And when Coach walked away, leaving the door to his office open behind him, Jay sat back down on the bench. The metal was cold beneath him. The silence returned, thick and echoing. Only now, it felt different. Because promises, he’d learned, were like the game itself. 

They seemed simple from the outside, pass, skate, score, but beneath the surface, they were brutal. They cracked bones. Split skin. Cost you more than you realized when the puck first dropped. And now he’d made one. To the man who had given him everything. About the girl who didn’t know he existed yesterday. And something about that equation already felt like a game he wouldn’t win. Not cleanly. Not without bleeding a little. 

The next day you walk into the rink with your headphones on like armor, like a barrier of strings and sonatas against the roar of blades slicing across frozen ground. The music didn’t have words; just aching violins and mournful piano keys, the kind that curled around your ribs like ivy and whispered things no one else could hear. You liked it that way. Preferred it, in fact. A world where no one expected anything from you but observation. Where you could move quietly, head bowed, tucked into yourself like a letter never meant to be opened. The rink was alive with noise, the kind of chaotic, youthful clamor that echoed endlessly in the domed cavern of the arena. Hockey boys were everywhere. Loud, brash, laughing with the type of ease you had never possessed. They moved like wild creatures in a frozen jungle, owning the space with the kind of confidence that repelled you. You wanted none of it. You were here for school. For requirement. For the credits that would get you closer to your degree, to a future far away from this cold-blooded sport that had always taken more than it gave.

You didn’t want to be here because it meant being near him, Coach Bennett. Your father. The man whose love always came in second to a scoreboard. You hadn’t even told anyone he was your dad until college forced your hand. Until the paperwork made you declare your internship, and your professor raised a brow when you mentioned the team he coached. "Isn’t that your father’s team?" they'd asked. And you had smiled, thin and bitter, the kind of smile that knew it was a confession more than a truth. Now, standing at the edge of the rink, you felt the cold creeping through the soles of your boots, settling into your spine. You scanned the ice, eyes drifting lazily across the players in warm-ups; men with sticks and padded shoulders, like warriors readying for a war made of bruises and bloodied lips. You didn't know most of their names. Didn’t care to. But one face stood out, again.

Jay. The captain. He was skating like it meant something, like each stride was a prayer, a promise. His eyes were focused, intense, not like the others who grinned and jostled and cracked jokes. He skated like he was carrying something, like the weight of the team sat across his back and he had no choice but to bear it. When he saw you, just for a second; only a second, his eyes met yours. The glance was sharp and immediate, but then he looked away, just as quickly, like the connection had burned too hot, too fast. You didn’t think much of it. You barely knew him. And besides, you weren’t here for moments. You were here for muscle strain and injury reports. 

You made your way to the benches, setting your things down with clinical precision. Notepad. Pen. Clipboard. You moved like a doctor in a morgue, dispassionately pulling back the veil. You were already scribbling notes about posture, alignment, joint tension, before the first whistle blew. And then it did. Your father stepped out of his office and blew the whistle with the kind of command that could stop time. It pierced through the air, slicing straight through conversations and momentum alike. In a heartbeat, every player stopped. The way they lined up felt orchestrated, almost like choreography, the kind of order that came from months, maybe years, of discipline drilled into bone. They formed ranks, shoulder to shoulder, breathing hard, eyes alert. Soldiers in helmets. Artists in blood and bruises.

Coach Bennett tilted his head toward you. It was subtle, but it might as well have been a spotlight. You straightened awkwardly, your headphones still dangling around your neck like a noose of quiet rebellion. Your legs moved toward him before your heart caught up, and soon you stood beside him, exposed and scrutinized, every eye on you like you were some strange new species being introduced to a pack. “This is my daughter,” he said. No warmth in it. Just the words, dropped like a coin into a vending machine. Clink. Fact delivered. Move on. 

There was a flicker of confusion in the air, brief and bewildered, but your father cut through it before it could grow. “She’s not here to play. We already discussed this yesterday. She’s here as part of her medical program. She’s going to be working closely with Sunghoon—” he nodded toward the boy in question, who shifted his weight onto one leg with a lopsided smile, “—but she’ll be observing all of you. Watching how you move. Learning how to help you recover.” He paused, and then added, with a finality that could crack glass, “She’s officially part of this team now. That means she’s under my protection. Act accordingly.” And then, just like that, practice began.

You faded back to the bench, taking refuge in your notebook like it was the only world that made sense. Scribbling notes as the players moved, trying to catch the little things, the slant of a shoulder, the twist of a knee, the strain in a calf that hinted at fatigue or overuse. You wrote like you were solving equations, like the body was a riddle you could unravel with enough observation. But part of you was still listening. Watching. You paid attention to Sunghoon especially. His recovery was evident, he moved smoothly, mostly, but every so often you’d catch a limp, a shift in balance that told a different story. You jotted it down: Left leg bears less weight on turns. Compensation in hip angle. Follow up post-practice. His injury had been bad. You remembered reading about it. The kind of injury that ended careers. But he was back. They always came back, stitched together with willpower and tape and the kind of stubbornness only athletes seemed to possess.

Your eyes flickered once more to Jay.  He moved with that same elegance, only sharper. Cleaner. Like he was made for the ice. Like the rink recognized him as its own. You wanted to look away. But something about him made you linger a little longer. 

The whistle blew like a sudden gust, sharp and liberating. It sliced through the rhythm of skate blades and sent a collective exhale through the room, a pause carved into the body of practice like a rest note in a long and relentless symphony. Coach’s voice echoed through the chilled air "Ten minutes" and the boys broke off in various directions, some slouching against the boards, others throwing their helmets onto the bench with a satisfying clunk, already gulping down water like it could cure every bruise they've ever earned. 

You sat at the edge of the bench, body still and stiff, the kind of ache blooming at the nape of your neck that only comes from too much focus, from staring at bodies in motion, at joint tension and gait compensation and every angle of athletic wear and tear. The muscles of your own body felt coiled from stillness, from quiet endurance. You pulled your headphones down around your neck and exhaled, shaking out your head like a bird flicking off water from its feathers. Your eyes burned slightly, not from emotion but from overexertion, your thoughts running laps, your pen still ink-stained from the first hour of meticulous note-taking. And then, instinctively, you looked up. And he was looking at you. Jay. 

It wasn’t a curious glance. It wasn’t fleeting or accidental. It was… deliberate. His gaze held weight, anchored like a stone skipping across still water, disrupting something in you that you’d carefully kept dormant. For a heartbeat, time stalled. Not in a romantic way; no, you didn’t believe in that kind of thing. But in the way a deer pauses when it senses it's been seen, body still, breath caught. And then he looked away. Too quickly. Like he’d been caught committing some small crime. Like your eyes had burned him and he hadn’t expected the flame. You tilted your head, puzzled but unwilling to overthink it. Not your business. Not your problem. You were here for work, not curiosity. You weren’t a girl who chased after glances. You weren’t here to peel back the layers of hockey boys with brooding eyes and sharp cheekbones. You were here to help, to heal. Not to unravel. 

Still, the interaction clung to your ribs as you stood, notebook in hand, purpose hardening your spine like steel beneath silk. If your father wasn’t going to introduce you properly, then you’d do it yourself. You’d show them that you weren’t just the coach’s daughter, you were the intern, the analyst, the healer. You walked with quiet authority across the ice-chilled floor, each footstep sure, your notes pressed tight against your chest like scripture. First, Lee Heeseung. Tall, almost too tall to be real, with a kind of radiance that caught light like polished glass. He moved like he was made for attention, but your trained eyes saw what others didn’t; the slight forward hunch, the overextension in his reach, the way his shoulders bore weight wrong, unevenly, like a house built on a tilted foundation. You stepped toward him, gentle but firm. 

“Do your shoulders ache?” you asked, voice calm but clear. 

He blinked at you, eyebrows pulling upward in bemusement. “Uh… yeah, actually. Constantly.” 

You nodded. “Because your form’s too open. You reach too far with your stick and overcompensate with your back muscles. You’re burning out your deltoids before you even get to the second period.” He stared, dumbfounded, as if you had read it off a hidden manuscript folded inside his bones.

“If you rotate more from your hips instead of your upper back, you’ll take pressure off the joint. I’ll show you how to fix it after.” He said nothing, only nodded with an almost reverent curiosity, as though he were seeing you for the first time. You moved on.

Next, Sunghoon. He was lounging against the wall, sweat dampening his dark hair like ink spilled across paper. You studied the subtle shift in his stance, the way he favored one leg. It wasn’t overt, but to you it was a glaring neon sign. He didn’t wince, but his left side moved slower, more cautiously. “You’re compensating,” you said, making him look up. 

He grinned. Not a cocky grin, but the kind that folded warmly around the edges. “Can’t help it.” 

“You’re doing well, considering. You land softly, roll through your hips, you don’t put too much pressure on the joint; but I can still see it.” 

He shrugged. “My girl’s a figure skater. Taught me how to fall pretty.” That made you smile. A real one. One that cracked the ice around your ribs a little. You nodded in approval. “She taught you well.” 

And then, Jay. You approached him last. His expression was unreadable, but something in the air around him shifted as you neared, like the temperature dropped a few degrees. He sat on the bench, helmet resting beside him, forearms braced on his thighs. Up close, he looked even more cut from marble, angular and quiet, a monument to restraint. He didn’t look up at first, not until your shadow settled over his lap like a silent challenge. “Does your knee hurt?” you asked, flipping a page in your notebook. 

His head rose slowly, his gaze flickering over your face like he was trying to piece something together. There was no trace of the sheepish boy you’d startled in the rink a few nights ago. This Jay was guarded, mouth tight, voice low. “I’m fine.”

Your eyes didn’t waver. “You favor your left side. Every time you cut left, you hesitate. You don’t fully extend through the glide.” 

He scowled faintly. “It’s nothing. I know how to stretch.” 

You raised a brow, the edge of your mouth tugging upward; not in amusement, but something sharper. “Obviously you don’t. Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

His jaw ticked. “I don’t need help.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” you said, your voice steady as a blade sheathed in silk. “You’re not exempt just because you’re the captain. If you want to avoid tearing something before playoffs, meet me after practice. I’ll show you the stretch.” And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving the weight of your words lingering in the air like smoke after a firework. 

Practice ended not with a bang, but a slow unraveling, a sigh across the rink, the hiss of skate blades leaving ice, gear clattering into duffels like thunder softened into memory. The tension of the game dissolved into the scent of sweat and the chill of melting frost on players' necks. You lingered by the boards with your notepad, pen scribbling observations in swift, decisive loops. Notes about posture and movement, pain disguised as endurance, tight shoulders masked by bravado. Each boy became a puzzle, a map of injuries and habits and patterns, bodies writing stories in the snow, and you were trying to read them in a language only you understood. You made your rounds with professionalism sewn into your spine like armor. Softened your voice for Sunghoon, smiled gently at Heeseung, offered a shoulder tap and quiet praise where it was earned. But your eyes kept slipping, to the back corner of the locker room, where the Captain sat like a storm gathering in silence. Jay, half-shadowed, alone.

He was stretching. Technically. But he was doing it all wrong. The angle of his knee, the twist of his ankle, the way his weight was distributed, off, completely off. It wasn’t just inefficient; it was dangerous. You watched him for a minute too long, notebook momentarily forgotten. Something about the way he moved, so precise and careless at once, frustrated you. Like watching someone trying to read with their eyes closed, convinced they didn’t need light. You sighed, a breath curling like frost against your throat, and tucked your notepad under your arm.

Your footsteps echoed lightly across the tiles as you approached him, the hum of the fluorescent lights above buzzing like the wings of an insect trapped in amber. “You’re doing it all wrong,” you said simply, voice even but firm. Not mocking. Just true. Jay didn’t look at you at first. He exhaled hard through his nose, like your presence was an ache he didn’t know how to stretch out. Then, he rolled his eyes with all the weariness of a boy who’d spent his life hearing people tell him what to do. 

“I told you already,” he muttered. “I don’t need help.” You laughed. Not a bright laugh, not one made of bells or sunlight. It was dry and sharp, like the snap of a twig underfoot, unexpected, dismissive, real. “Yeah, well,” you said, stepping a little closer, “I’m here whether you like it or not.” 

He didn’t respond. He stayed seated, hands braced behind him on the bench, jaw tight. You knelt beside him carefully, knees folding like paper cranes, your movements deliberate. You reached for his leg, intending to guide it gently, to correct the twist in his stretch; But he flinched back, gaze snapping to yours, guarded and immediate. “Why are you touching me?” he asked, low, almost startled. As if your hand were a flame and he hadn’t expected to get burned. 

You froze, hand hovering midair, your breath catching in your throat like a note not quite played. “Sorry,” you murmured, retreating an inch. “But I kind of need to touch you to show you how to bend your knee properly. That is… if you want to stop tearing ligaments before you’re twenty-five.” He looked at you for a long moment. His eyes weren’t angry, just… unreadable. The color of storm-drenched bark, of something old and rooted and worn by wind. Then, finally, a single slow nod. Permission granted.

You inched forward again, carefully, the space between you electric and small. Your fingers found his knee, warm through the thin fabric of his compression pants, and turned it just so, guiding his leg into a safer, smoother line. You spoke softly, explaining the movement, the angle, the way the muscles needed to engage. Clinical, composed, but your voice wavered just slightly beneath it all, like a violin string drawn too tight. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. But his eyes never left your face. You felt the weight of them, like moonlight poured too heavy, like winter sun through an old windowpane, quiet but inescapable. You tried not to notice. You focused on your task. You were a professional. You were your father’s daughter. You had no room to blush under scrutiny. 

But still, his gaze burned. Not cruel, not invasive, just… watching. Like he was trying to solve something about you. Like he didn’t expect you to exist the way you did. Like you were a song in a genre he’d never listened to before and suddenly couldn’t stop playing. Your hands paused, still resting on his leg. You looked up, the air between you catching on your ribs. “You’re holding your breath,” you said quietly.

Jay blinked, startled. Then slowly exhaled, a sound so faint it could’ve been mistaken for silence. “I didn’t realize,” he said. You nodded, pulling your hands away, letting the warmth of his skin fade from your fingertips. You stood slowly, brushing off invisible dust, the ghost of contact lingering like the smell of smoke on fabric. 

“Well… now you do,” you replied. You didn’t look back as you walked away, not even when you felt his eyes follow you. You didn’t need to. You knew. Something had shifted. Not broken. Not begun. Just shifted. And shifts, small as they seem, have been known to start avalanches. 

The ice rink hums behind you, echoing with the aftertaste of exertion; shouted jokes, distant thuds of sticks dropped to concrete, the hiss of showers roaring to life. You’re gathering your things slowly, as if the weight of your bag is heavier now, as if the moment you shared with Jay, fleeting as a spark, has thickened the air around you. Your fingers fumble with the zipper of your notebook pouch, and the stretch in your chest still lingers, not quite tension, not quite ache. Your pulse is a quiet metronome, steady and unhurried, but a part of you wonders, why did it feel like he was looking at more than just the position of your hands? You shake the thought loose, like snow from your shoulders. You’ve always been good at untangling what doesn’t belong. 

You slip your headphones over your ears out of habit, though the music hasn’t started yet, and turn to go, ready to leave behind the clattering cold, the conversations you’re not a part of, the ache behind your eyes that only fluorescent lights and long-held disappointment seem to bring. But just as the door brushes open, his voice stops you. “Hey—wait.” It’s your father.

Coach Bennett. To them, just Coach. To you… a name wrapped in thorns and fatherhood, a man who taught you to ride a bike and then promptly missed every school play after. You turn, slowly, shoulders still braced with the tension of too many unsaid things. He’s leaning by the locker room threshold, towel looped around his neck, clipboard in hand, a man caught between work and worry. There’s something weathered about him, eyes rimmed in fatigue, mouth tight as if every word is weighted with the pressure of needing to win. Always needing to win.

“You headed out?” he asks, trying for casual, like he didn’t leave you waiting in that diner with a glass of tea  sweating between your fingers and a heart already resigned to being forgotten.

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve got notes to type up.”

He clears his throat and glances down, as if suddenly remembering something that’s been burning a hole in his clipboard. “Right, well, your mother and I… we were hoping you’d come to a dinner at our place.” You blink. The sentence feels foreign. Bent out of shape.

“Dinner?” you echo, like it’s a language you haven’t spoken in years.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s cooking. We’re having the Yang family over. You remember them? They used to come to your birthday parties when you were little.” You remember. Vaguely. A woman with kind eyes and a son with sticky fingers who pulled your hair when he thought you weren’t looking. You remember the way your mother always smiled too hard when she hosted, like she was trying to win some unseen game. 

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. “I have stuff to do. I was gonna —”

“Your mother would really like you there.” The words land gently. But they wrap around your ribs like guilt. You stare at him, this man who knows how to rally a team, who can read the trajectory of a puck midair but never quite learned how to read you. Still, something in his voice is softer than usual. Maybe it’s the way he says her name. Maybe it’s the fact that he said we. You sigh. Your fingers tighten around your strap. You tell yourself you’re doing it for her, not for him. That there’s a difference. That the knot in your stomach isn’t because he asked you like he meant it.

“Fine,” you mutter, eyes dropping to the floor. “I’ll go.”

He nods, relief flickering in his features for just a breath. He doesn’t say thank you. He doesn’t have to. You both know that this is just another quiet truce in a long line of unspoken compromises. And just like that, you step out of the locker room, into the sharp wind curling through the corridor, your footsteps echoing down a hallway that always felt too wide for love. The evening air slips beneath your jacket, and you slip your headphones back on, press play. A cello fills your ear, slow and mournful, dragging its bow across your bones. You walk alone, music in your blood, but the memory of Jay’s eyes watching you refuses to fade. Like a handprint pressed to glass. Like a ripple after the stone is gone. 

Your dorm smells like lavender detergent and pencil shavings, the remnants of college life settled like dust in corners you’ll never quite reach. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, you let the weight you’ve been holding all day slide off your bones. Your bag slumps to the floor with a thud that echoes like a memory, and your limbs follow suit, dragging you toward the bed like gravity’s favorite child, like weariness itself lives beneath your skin. You plop down with all the drama of a sigh swallowed whole, limbs sprawled like you’ve been dropped by life itself. The mattress dips beneath you, cradling your exhaustion like it knows every ache by name. You stare at the ceiling. That blank, indifferent canvas.

The plaster above you doesn’t blink when you ask it silent questions. It doesn’t flinch when your heart tugs in that old, familiar way; a tender throb behind your ribs that speaks not of heartbreak but of something older. Something more foundational. A longing not for romance, but for recognition. You think about the way your father spoke to Jay earlier today. The firm hand on his shoulder. The way he called him “son”  with that gravelly voice full of trust and something perilously close to affection. You picture Jay, upright, respectful, attentive. A good soldier. A son made in the image of the game your father worships. And somehow, it makes sense. Of course he sees Jay like that. Like someone to be proud of. Like someone worth asking anything of.

You turn over, your cheek pressing into the cool cotton of your pillow, and let your eyes flutter closed. But sleep does not come. Instead, there’s that image again: your father, standing tall and certain beside Jay. There’s something about the way they fit together, coach and captain, like two sides of the same coin. A partnership born on the ice, forged by whistles and drills and the quiet understanding of shared purpose. And you? You were always just orbiting that world. A speck caught in the gravity of pucks and sweat and chalk-drawn strategies on whiteboards you weren’t supposed to read. You learned early on how to be quiet in a room full of roars. How to braid your silence into usefulness. How to stitch your dreams into shadows.

You swallow hard, turning again, burying your face deeper into the pillow as if it could erase the bitterness clinging to the edges of your thoughts. There is no use in comparing. You tell yourself that. You chant it in your mind like a prayer you almost believe. But it doesn’t stop the twinge. That sting of jealousy, quick and sharp like the slap of cold air when you step out of the rink. You hate it. You hate feeling this way. It makes you feel small, like a child standing in the doorway of a room where they were forgotten. You were never enough to pull him away from the ice. Not really. Not when it mattered. 

Your thoughts spiral, curling tighter and tighter, like leaves drying in the sun, until they crack and crumble into a quiet resentment you’ll never say out loud. It isn’t rage. It isn’t even hurt. It’s that soft, bruised ache of a girl who stopped asking a long time ago. Your fingers clutch the edge of your comforter. You inhale deeply, try to ground yourself in the scent of fabric softener and the faint trace of your shampoo clinging to your sheets. This is your life now. Your space. Your silence. You’re here to work, to help, to heal. You are not here to unravel. You are not here to bleed. You exhale slowly, trying to empty yourself of all the noise you never say aloud. 

And yet, as your body finally begins to still, mind untethering from the day’s demands, you can’t help but remember the way Jay had looked at you. Eyes tracking your every move like you were a constellation he didn’t expect to find. As if he didn’t understand you, but wanted to. And worse still… the part of you that didn’t mind it. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut harder. No. You’re here to observe. To support. To become what you’ve always wanted: a healer. Someone who listens to pain and knows what to do with it. Someone who helps others move forward, even when she’s stuck in place. You are not here to fall. Not for the captain. Not for the boy with tired eyes and a voice that turned cold when you got too close. Not for the one your father already loves.

You curl beneath your blanket, trying to block out the sound of the skating rink still echoing in your head, like ghosts tracing figure-eights across the floor of your memory. But they linger. All of them. Every step, every look, every word not spoken. And outside your window, the moon begins to rise like a watchful eye, silver and silent, bearing witness to your quiet war.

The frat house buzzed with the soft murmur of voices and the low thump of bass-heavy music, vibrating faintly through the wooden floors like a second, impatient heartbeat. The air was warm, too warm, thick with the scent of beer-soaked upholstery, half-eaten takeout, and a kind of restless boyhood energy that lingered like smoke. The overhead light flickered with a kind of tired stutter, casting shadows that leaned against the walls, distorted and lanky, as if even they were eavesdropping on the night. Jay sat perched at the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, fingers absently turning his water bottle in slow circles. It squeaked quietly against the condensation pooling beneath it, an accidental metronome keeping time with his drifting thoughts. Around him, the world blurred into soft focus. Heeseung lay sprawled like a cat on the floor, his hair a mess, flipping a bottle cap into the air with lazy grace. Sunghoon was halfway into the armchair, legs dangling, his voice doused in mischief as he picked apart the drama of someone else’s heartbreak with all the casual cruelty of young men who’d never had their own hearts split open properly. They were all happily in love anyway. 

“Swear to God,” Sunghoon was saying, “the second Yunjin started that book club she didn’t invite him to? I knew she was checking out.”

Heeseung scoffed, his laugh low and sharp. “Nah, it was when she posted that solo beach trip pic. The one with the mysterious shadows and cropped-out shoulders? Amateur breakup announcement.”

Jay should have laughed. Should’ve said something clever and mean. But the words got lost somewhere between the memory of your hands on his knee and the way you’d looked at him, not like he was special, but like he was stubborn and wrong and in desperate need of correction. He didn’t know why it stuck with him. There’d been dozens of people who’d corrected him before, coaches, trainers, even professors. But you... you’d done it with a tilt of your head, a certainty in your voice that was almost tender and almost cruel. As if you weren’t trying to prove a point, but trying to protect him from himself. And that smile you gave afterward. Small. Smug. So real he could taste it on the back of his tongue.

“You good, Jay?” Jake’s voice slid in, calm and grounding, like a stone skipping across water.

Jay blinked, head snapping toward him as though waking from a fever dream. “What?” 

Jake gave him a look, familiar and knowing. “You’ve been staring at the coffee table like it offended your ancestors.”

Jay exhaled, trying for a laugh. It came out more like a sigh. “Just tired.”

Jake grinned, leaning back, fingers running through his messy hair. “Join the club. Sera’s been doing these 3 a.m. concerts lately. I think she’s rehearsing for some kind of sleep-deprivation competition.” At that, Jay smiled. It was easier now, hearing Jake talk about his daughter, his eyes softening in the way only a father’s eyes do, even a young, exhausted one. It reminded Jay that not all responsibility weighed the same. Some burdens were chosen. Some were gifts disguised as sleepless nights.

“How is she?” Jay asked, voice quieter than before. At once, Jake lights up. It’s the kind of brightness that’s hard to fake, pure, paternal, cracked wide open with joy. “She’s perfect,” he says. “I mean, I don’t sleep anymore, and I’ve memorized the words to like six lullabies I didn’t know existed, but... when she grabs my finger with her whole hand? Man.” He grins, shaking his head. “I get it now. That stupid thing people say about how it changes everything. It does.” Jay listens. Really listens this time. There’s something grounding about Jake’s voice, the softness of it, the awe. It steadies the storm in his chest for a moment, like wind pressed flat under a gentle palm. “We are...figuring it out. But yeah. She’s everything.” 

Jay nodded slowly, absorbing it. He tried to picture it, being someone’s anchor, someone’s whole world before they even knew what a world was. He wasn’t sure he could. His own childhood was too quiet, too cold. His father’s hands had never lingered in his hair, never tucked in his jersey, never taught him how to be soft. But Coach Bennett had. In his own gruff way. He’d shown Jay how to lace up ambition like skates, how to hold his chin up even when the game turned against him. He’d made Jay captain when everyone else had told him he was too intense, too focused, too rough around the edges. Coach had believed in him, and Jay never forgot that kind of loyalty. It was the kind that carved itself into your bones. 

Which is why it was maddening, this new pull, this flickering tension every time your eyes met his. You were Coach’s daughter. A line drawn bold and black across the ice. He couldn’t even skate near it. But still. He kept remembering the way your brows furrowed while watching the team, the soft movements of your pen against paper like some orchestral conductor writing a silent symphony of muscle and breath and pain. The way you didn’t flinch under the weight of so many eyes. The way you didn’t once search the crowd for your father’s approval. That part, especially, had lodged itself in his throat. Because it wasn’t just that you were off-limits.

It was that you were untouchable in ways that had nothing to do with rules and everything to do with the ache he’d spent years learning to ignore. Jay shifted on the couch, elbows tightening against his knees. “She’s different,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

Jake raised a brow. “Who?” Jay looked up, startled, caught.

“No one,” he lied. But his thoughts were already spiraling, your hand on his knee, your voice in his ear, that laugh, dry and sarcastic, like a dagger wrapped in silk. He didn’t know what game this was, but it wasn’t one he knew the rules to. And worse still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to play fair.

It was the kind of night that felt like a sigh, long and low and inevitable. The sun had dipped behind the hills hours ago, leaving behind a sky bruised in soft purples and melancholic blue, like the hush before a confession. And still, here you were, standing at the edge of your parents’ driveway, dread curling around your ribs like ivy. You would’ve given anything to turn around, to walk back into the familiar solitude of your dorm room where silence hummed in soft harmonies and your music knew how to hold you without asking for anything in return. But no, the pull of obligation was a cruel thing, thick and choking, and tonight, it dragged you home. The house was lit up like a stage set, warm lights glowing from the windows, casting golden halos against the glass. You inhaled once, twice, steeling yourself, then stepped inside. 

“Sweetheart!” your mother’s voice lifted into the air like a melody composed of saccharine niceties and desperate hope. She wrapped her arms around you before you could brace for it, her perfume, something powdery and expensive, sinking into your coat like memory. “I’m so glad you made it,” she whispered into your shoulder, though it felt less like a welcome and more like a plea. You nodded, lips pressed into a polite smile that didn’t quite touch your eyes. The scent of roasted garlic and marinated meat drifted in from the kitchen, thick and inviting, almost enough to distract you; almost. But then you heard your name called, and when you turned, you were met with the carefully curated smiles of two strangers standing too close to the polished mahogany of the entryway table. People you’ve seen before but don’t really know. 

“This is Mr. and Mrs. Yang,” your mother said, her voice bright with a rehearsed kind of joy. “And their son, Jungwon.” Jungwon. His name hit the air like a pebble in still water, creating gentle, rippling waves of expectation. You gave them a nod, soft, distant, the same way one acknowledges clouds passing in the sky. He was handsome in the clean, quiet way some boys are, shirt tucked in too neatly, posture molded by years of piano lessons or polite dinners just like this one. He smiled at you, polite and kind. But your heart remained unmoved. There was no stirring, no ache, no static hum beneath your skin. He was fine. But you wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

Without a word, you slipped past them and made your way into the kitchen, the sound of your boots echoing against the tiled floor like the punctuation to a sentence no one had the nerve to say. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice low but warm, as you stepped behind your brother, who was busy laying out silverware with an absent frown. Jaehyun didn’t look up at first, just kept folding napkins like it was some kind of test. 

“You made it,” he said flatly, glancing over his shoulder.

You bumped his arm with your knuckles, a small sibling gesture of truce. “Unfortunately.”

He snorted. “Tell me about it. They made me help prep. Felt like I was in culinary boot camp.”

“How’s hockey?”

At that, he shook his head, tousled brown hair falling into his eyes. “Brutal,” he muttered, the word pulled like a string from his throat. “We lost by five. My shoulder’s still sore from that last check.”

You laughed, though it was more of a breath than a sound. “You’ll live.” He rolled his eyes, but you could see the ghost of a smile playing on his lips before your mother’s voice called again, floating in from the hallway like a chime in a storm.

“Dinner’s ready!” Just like that, the spell broke. Jaehyun gathered the last of the glasses and followed behind you into the dining room where the long table waited like an altar, gilded with candlesticks, lace runners, and plates of food that looked too pristine to eat. You took your place near the end, far enough from the guests but close enough for civility, your back straight, your hands folded in your lap like the good daughter they always hoped you'd remember how to be. The Yangs spoke in soft, lulling tones, words that barely scratched at the surface of anything real. Their son sat across from you, occasionally meeting your gaze like he wanted to say something, something clever, or thoughtful, or maybe just nice, but you weren’t in the mood for pleasantries. Not tonight. Your smile was a veil, your laugh a curtain. You were not here. Not really.

Your father sat at the head of the table, his expression stoic, eyes moving from plate to plate, from person to person, as though dinner was just another meeting he had to manage. He asked about hockey like it was the weather, predictable and detached. He spoke more to Jaehyun than he had to you all week. And as the meal wore on, you found yourself chewing more on thoughts than on food. You thought about how he called Jay “son” sometimes in passing. How his voice softened when he talked to his players, how he clapped them on the backs with the kind of praise you used to dream about. You thought about the way Jay had looked at you today, the way his eyes followed your fingers, the heat of his skin beneath your hands, the tension of muscle and meaning that neither of you dared acknowledge. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, pushing your fork through a piece of untouched chicken. You were tired of feeling second. Tired of the way your family only saw you when they wanted to show you off, when your presence meant something shiny and packaged. You thought about how Jay had rolled his eyes at you earlier, and how, weirdly, that had made you feel more seen than this whole table full of curated smiles and forgotten birthdays.

Dinner dragged on like a clock with too many hours, and you responded when spoken to, nodded at the right moments, said thank you when dishes were passed. But your mind wandered, to the rink, to the feeling of being useful, of having something to offer, even if the captain of the team found you irritating. At least that irritation was honest. And honesty, you were learning, was a rare delicacy in this house.

The clink of forks against porcelain had become a steady rhythm, a kind of soft percussion to a dinner that already felt twice its length. Small talk meandered between sips of wine and half-hearted compliments, your mother commenting on Mrs. Yang’s earrings, your father asking about Mr. Yang’s latest business venture with the polite detachment of a man doing what he was told. Across the table, Jungwon answered when spoken to, his voice low and kind, a boy raised to be gentle, to make eye contact, to smile when he felt uncertain. You didn’t mind him, not really. He seemed sweet. But sweetness, you were beginning to learn, rarely held weight when placed against the fire of ambition or the ache of unmet need. You chewed on a piece of bread, nodding along to a joke your brother made, when your father cleared his throat. The kind of clearing that meant a shift, a tone, a pivot into purpose.

“So,” he began, looking down the table as though he weren’t already directing the spotlight right at you. “Jungwon will be joining the team this semester. Equipment assistant.” Your eyes flicked to the boy across from you, his cheeks pinkened slightly, bashful beneath the weight of your father’s pride. You gave him a polite smile, one that said, Good for you, but not I care.

“He’ll be on the sidelines with you,” your father added casually, as if mentioning the weather again, but there was something careful in the way he said it, something staged. You caught it immediately, the way his gaze slipped from Jungwon to you and then lingered just a moment too long. You stiffened slightly in your chair, already sensing the script he had in his mind.

“That’s great,” you said lightly, reaching for your glass. “We’ll be co-spectators then.” But your father wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“You two should spend more time together,” he said, letting the suggestion unfurl itself with the soft force of velvet gloves. “Jungwon’s a good kid. Focused. Thoughtful. Comes from a good family.” His smile flickered toward the Yangs like a candle catching draft, then returned to you, heavy with intention. And there it was, the curtain lifted, the illusion gone. You blinked slowly, letting the silence settle just a beat too long before speaking.

“I’m not dating right now,” you said plainly, though your voice was calm, even lyrical. A stone skipping across still water. “Not planning to until after I graduate next year. Boys are a distraction.” You said it like fact, not defense. Like gospel truth carved into stone tablets handed down by a wiser version of yourself. And maybe it was. After all, how many years had you sacrificed for perfect scores, for internships, for the dreams that danced just beyond reach like distant galaxies? You had no room for curated love stories or staged introductions masked as fate.

Your mother chuckled softly, a little forced. “Darling, no one’s saying you need to rush anything.”

But your father leaned forward ever so slightly, elbows on the table like this was suddenly a negotiation. “It wouldn’t hurt to keep an open mind.” You met his eyes then, really looked. Not through him, not past him, but at him. The man who gave his softness to the boys on his team, who wore fatherhood like a jacket he could take off when it became too warm. You didn’t glare, didn’t raise your voice. But your gaze was steel behind a glass window. Clear. Unyielding.

“I know what you’re doing,” you said, barely above a whisper. “And I’m not interested.” The room went still for a moment, the way a violin string quivers just after it’s been plucked. Jaehyun looked down at his plate, chewing slowly. Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed to have been made a piece on someone else’s chessboard. 

Your mother, ever the conductor of delicate recoveries, let out a laugh that sounded like it belonged to someone else. “Well! Why don’t we pass the salad around again? There’s more in the kitchen.” But you’d already pushed your plate aside, appetite gone, your chest tight with the strange ache of not quite belonging anywhere, not even here, not even with the people whose house you were raised in. You weren’t angry, not really. Just tired of the orchestration, the planning of your life as though it were a charity auction item passed between polished hands.

You didn’t want curated affection. You wanted to be chosen for who you were, not for who you were supposed to be. And outside, behind the thick curtains, the wind picked up in a hush, as though it, too, was trying to say something no one else could quite hear.

After dinner the table sat stripped of its former warmth, plates cleared, wineglasses emptied, napkins folded in the hush of a meal that had long since soured in your mouth. The laughter had faded like perfume lingering on a dress after the wearer has gone, and the only sounds now were the distant humming of the dishwasher and the shifting of chairs against hardwood as the front door shut behind the last of the guests. The air was still, thick with the kind of silence that waits to be broken, and you could feel it crawling up your spine like a storm on the edge of breath.

You stood there for a moment in the half-light of the dining room, your arms crossed against your chest like armor, your lips pursed in a line that threatened to break. Your mother moved quietly through the kitchen, her hands busy with cleaning, like always, her fingers always searching for distraction. Jaehyun yawned and leaned against the doorframe, phone in hand, already halfway out of the scene. But your eyes were fixed on the figures seated at the kitchen island: your parents, still playing their parts, still pretending that everything had been done out of love and not control. You stepped forward then, your voice calm but edged with the kind of cold that burned. “I didn’t appreciate what you tried to do tonight.”

Your mother looked up from the sink, the sponge pausing mid-scrub. Your father set his glass down, the click of it against granite too loud in the stillness. “We were just trying to help,” your mother said, gentle and practiced, the way someone might approach a wild animal, afraid of startling it.

You shook your head, swallowing down the heat that rose in your throat. “No. You weren’t helping. You were arranging. You were deciding for me.” Your father’s brow furrowed, his voice firm, that coaching tone slipping through like oil under a door. “We just thought you could use someone stable. Jungwon’s a good kid.”

“I don’t care,” you said. “That’s not your choice to make.”

There was a beat of silence before your father leaned back, his arms crossing, his jaw tightening like the locking of a gate. “Well, I already told the boys not to even think about you. I made it very clear; you’re off-limits to that team.” And there it was. The line drawn in blood. The decision inked into law without your consent. Your chest rose, breath shallow and burning, and for a moment all you could hear was the rush of your own heartbeat in your ears, like the distant roar of a tide pulling away from the shore.

“You what?” you asked, though you had heard him perfectly. You just needed to hear it again, to confirm the absurdity.

“I told them you’re off-limits,” he repeated. “I won’t have distractions on my team. You’re not there for that.” Something inside you cracked, quietly, the way a branch bends too far before it finally breaks. It wasn’t about boys. It wasn’t about Jungwon or Jay or anyone else on that ice. It was about you, your choices, your agency, your life being treated like a project in his playbook, another thing to coach into submission. 

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with the sheer weight of everything you’d carried. “You don’t get to police my life just because you missed out on being a part of it before.” Your mother gasped softly, the words hitting her like a gust of wind through an open door. Jaehyun had long gone silent, his eyes darting from you to your father like a spectator at a match he didn’t want to see. Your father looked stunned, as if he hadn’t expected the defiance, as if the girl he’d always seen; dutiful, distant, quiet, had finally stood up and lit the room on fire.

“You don’t get to be their father and mine only when it’s convenient,” you whispered. “You don’t get to show up now and act like you’ve earned the right to guard my future.” There was nothing left to say. Not really. You turned on your heel, grabbed your bag with trembling hands, and stormed toward the door, your footsteps loud against the wood like drumbeats announcing a war. No one stopped you. No one dared. The air behind you folded in on itself like paper, creased, tense, ready to tear.

Outside, the night was cold, the stars bleached white against a velvet sky. You walked fast, like maybe the wind could carry your fury away or the moon could catch the tears you refused to let fall. You didn’t cry, though. You were done crying. You had your own life to live.

The rink was a cathedral of stillness when you arrived, the kind of sacred hush that only exists before the world wakes up fully, before blades scratch across ice, before whistles pierce the air, before voices rise like a storm. The overhead lights cast long shadows across the rink’s frozen surface, a pale, dreamy silver that shimmered like moonlight trapped beneath glass. You moved quietly, your footsteps muffled against the concrete, setting your things on the bench with the kind of careful intention that comes from routine born out of necessity. The cold curled around your ankles and fingers like a ghost; familiar, but not quite welcome. You slipped your headphones on, the music like a balm against the clutter of your mind. It dulled the noise from last night, dimmed the echo of your father's voice, the barbed twist of his authority. You had buried your anger beneath a layer of icy professionalism, telling yourself that this was work, just work. This was about anatomy and muscle tension, about tape and breath and recovery, not about fathers who try to cage you or boys with dark eyes and heavy gazes who can make your pulse falter with a look. 

You sat with your notebook open, sketching out plans, rotations for dynamic stretches, observations from the last practice, notes about posture, fatigue, habits of the body you were learning to read like language. You were deep inside your own head, scribbling something about joint stabilization and impact absorption, when a gentle tap on your shoulder sent a shock through your bones. You turned fast, heart stuttering as you tugged your headphones down, blinking up to find Jungwon standing just behind you. His hands were up in mock surrender, a soft smile pulling at his lips like sunshine trying to break through a curtain of clouds.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low, a little sheepish. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let out a breath and gave a small shake of your head, smiling despite yourself. “No, it’s okay. I was just… somewhere else.” 

He nodded, eyes flicking to your notebook, then back to you. “I just, uh, I wanted to apologize. About dinner. I had no idea our parents were planning that.” His voice was genuine, and something about the tilt of his head and the nervous shuffle of his feet told you he meant it. You relaxed, the tension in your shoulders loosening like laces unthreading.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, voice softening. “I could tell you were just as surprised as I was.”

He smiled at that, a little embarrassed, and glanced toward the cooler by the far wall. “I’m here early to fill water cups. I like getting everything done before the chaos starts.”

You glanced at the rows of plastic Gatorade cups lined up like soldiers waiting for orders and raised your brows, amused. “You take your job seriously.”

“I try,” he replied with a small shrug. “I’m not on the ice, but it still matters.”

You nodded, watching him for a moment, then turned back to your notebook. “I come early for the quiet,” you said after a pause, almost without thinking. “It’s like…the silence here has texture. It feels like something you can fold yourself into, like a blanket that doesn’t expect anything from you.” He looked at you then, really looked, like he was trying to memorize the way the words left your mouth, the way your eyes stayed downcast even though the thought you’d just spoken hung shimmering in the air like frost on windowpane. There was a flicker in his gaze, surprise, understanding, maybe a touch of admiration. Something tender bloomed between you, unspoken and strange, the way dawn makes you pause even when you’ve seen it a thousand times before.

You talked after that, quietly at first, about nothing and everything. The weather, school, how strange it was to be pulled into something bigger than you without consent. You learned that Jungwon liked history podcasts, that he hated the taste of mint and that he had a younger sister who adored figure skating. You told him about your internship, about your coursework, about the way you sometimes felt like no matter how hard you tried, your father would never see you as someone separate from his plans. And Jungwon listened, nodding, offering soft words that didn’t feel like pity but presence. You didn’t notice when the first skates hit the ice. Didn’t hear the buzz of the locker room doors or the scuffle of blades being adjusted. Time warped, folded into something tender and slow, and it wasn’t until a burst of laughter echoed from the tunnel and the boys began to file in like birds in flight, loud, messy, full of life, that you realized how long you’d been talking.

Your eyes flicked up instinctively, scanning the incoming flood of players, and there, in the midst of them, Jay. He looked good with the morning light painting silver into the dark of his hair, but his gaze was unreadable, distant. For a moment, just a flicker, your eyes met. He didn’t look away this time. But he didn’t smile either. And then the moment was gone, swallowed whole by the whistle of your father calling for warm-ups, the clash of skates against ice, and the ache in your chest that you didn’t want to admit had settled in for good. 

Jay pushed open the doors of the rink with purpose, his duffel slung over one shoulder, skates clinking softly against the strap. The air hit him like a second skin, cold and sharp, the kind of cold that woke you up and carved clarity into your bones. It smelled like ice and effort, like old sweat and tape and victory dreams long since frozen in the boards. The kind of air that said this is where we fight, even if the war is only against the self, against time, against the nagging voice in your head that says you’ll never be enough. The week had been long, coiled tightly around the pressure of expectation. Their first game loomed on Saturday, close enough to taste, close enough that even his sleep had taken on the rhythm of the game, his dreams broken by phantom goals and aching limbs and the roar of a crowd that may or may not come. He was ready. Or at least, he was supposed to be. 

He was lacing himself with determination as he stepped into the rink, threading it into every muscle. His footsteps echoed in the early hour, crisp and measured. He knew his role. Captain. Enforcer of grit and order. No time for softness, no space for distractions. Today was about execution. Focus. Edge. But then he saw you. You were perched on the lower bleachers, a notebook open on your knee, a pen in your hand like a wand drawing invisible maps through the air. You weren’t wearing your headphones this time. You were smiling. That soft, crooked kind of smile that looked rare on you, like something tucked away for safekeeping, only pulled out when no one was supposed to be watching. And you weren’t alone.

There was a boy beside you, shorter than him, younger-looking, with kind eyes and easy laughter, his body angled toward you like a sunflower turning toward the light. Jay hadn’t seen him before, which made something in his chest curl tight and sour. He felt it at once, sharp and unexpected: that gnawing sense of displacement, of not being in on something, of something already being taken. It was ridiculous. He barely knew you. You had spoken what, three times? You’d argued, mostly. Clashed like fire meeting stone. And yet… And yet.

Something about the sight of you sitting there with this stranger stirred up a noise inside him he couldn’t quiet. He told himself it was irritation, annoyance at having his morning disrupted by something irrelevant. That it was just the weight of practice and captaincy and pressure twisting his mood. But he knew the truth. Or at least, he feared it. He was jealous.

Not in the loud, possessive way of boys who’d already claimed something. But in that terrible quiet way that sneaks in when you weren’t even aware you’d begun to care. It crept in through the cracks, through the way you had corrected his stretch without blinking, through the way your fingers had pressed against his knee like a dare, through the way your voice held thunder even when you whispered. He hadn’t meant to remember the shape of your mouth or the way your eyes flared when you were angry. He hadn’t meant to notice the way your laugh sounded reluctant, like it had to fight its way past pain. But he had. And now here you were, smiling at someone else. Someone who made it look so effortless. And Jay, who lived his whole life wrapped in performance and grit and silence, felt, for a moment, like he was drowning in something he couldn’t name.

He tore his gaze away, jaw tight, back straight. He said nothing. Walked past you like you were a ghost and he was a man haunted. But even as the coach called the team to warm up, even as blades began to scratch their war-song into the ice, Jay couldn't help but glance back once more; just once, like a secret. And you were still laughing. God, he hated how beautiful you looked when you weren’t looking at him.

Practice begins like it always does, cold and unrelenting, the sound of skates slashing against ice like knives against glass, every player carving their hunger into the rink, hungry for speed, precision, and that brutal dance of dominance. You sit at the edge of it all, notebook in hand, eyes trained like a lighthouse beam over the curling mist of motion. The air bites, numbing fingers through your gloves, but your mind is sharp, cutting through every stride and swing with the precision of a scalpel. Your gaze is calculating, watching the way Sunghoon adjusts for his healing leg, the way Heeseung still hunches slightly too much on his left shoulder, compensating with poor posture. But today, something feels… off. Unsettled, like the silence before a storm when the trees go still and the birds forget to sing. 

And it doesn’t take long for you to realize that the eye of that storm is Jay. Jay, whose presence on the ice is usually a poem in motion, a wolf weaving through wind, disciplined and razor-focused. Jay, who has always worn his title of captain like a stitched-on second skin, no room for error, no time for weakness. But now, he’s fraying at the edges. There’s something in the way he’s skating that makes your breath catch, a subtle stutter in his turns, a tension in his shoulders, like he’s being chased by something no one else can see. His movements are all wrong, off by mere seconds, fractions of angles, but wrong nonetheless. You notice his hesitation, how he favors the leg he’s always guarded like a secret. His eyes aren’t focused, not really. They’re vacant, elsewhere, like his mind is pacing in some far-off room, and his body is merely a ghost skating through the motions. 

You frown, gripping your pen tighter, every instinct in you whispering a quiet warning. And then it happens. It’s not theatrical, no loud snap of bone, no scream echoing through the rink, but it is enough to silence the room. Jay goes down, a crack of imbalance catching in the middle of a play. His skate catches on the edge of a turn, his body unable to compensate in time, and suddenly he’s hitting the ice hard, elbow first, knee twisted beneath him in a tangle of velocity and weight. The sound he makes is more frustration than pain, but it’s guttural, and it sinks into your bones like cold water. He stays down for a heartbeat too long. Long enough for every eye to turn toward him. Long enough for your own lungs to forget how to breathe. 

And when he finally rises, it’s with a sharp grimace and a tight jaw. He limps, not dramatically, but noticeably, dragging pride along with that wounded leg as he makes his way to the bench. You’re already up before your mind can catch up, your body drawn to him by something magnetic, something wordless and inevitable. You clutch your notebook to your chest, knuckles white, as you cross the ice’s edge with quick strides. By the time you reach him, Jay has torn his helmet off and flung it against the bench with a metallic clatter, the sound echoing like a gunshot. His gloves are off next, thrown down in a storm of self-loathing. He mutters curses under his breath, short and sharp, like they’re meant to punish the very air he breathes. His hair is a mess of sweat-damp strands, stuck to his forehead, and his eyes are wild, filled with that raw, reckless anger that has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with pride.

You don’t say anything at first. You simply sit down beside him, close but not too close, letting the silence stretch thin and humming between you. Letting him cool like a blade just pulled from fire. You watch him from the corner of your eye, the way his chest heaves, the clench of his fists, the storm tightening and loosening behind his gaze. And finally, when the heat of the moment has dulled to a quiet ache, you speak. “I’ll need to look at that knee after practice.”

Your voice is soft. Not gentle, not coddling, just calm. Firm in that way that says you’re not asking for permission, but not picking a fight either. You expect the pushback, the snide remark, the roll of his eyes, the stubborn “I’m fine” that he usually keeps locked and loaded. But it doesn’t come. Jay doesn’t argue. He just nods, curt and silent, like something inside him has cracked open a little too wide to bother trying to hold it all in. Like he’s tired of fighting everything, including himself. 

You don’t press him further. You don’t say what you’re thinking, that he’s been off since the moment he walked in, that you saw him watching you earlier with that dark, unreadable look. That you can feel the jealousy clinging to him like smoke. You don’t say that maybe you understand a little too well what it means to be someone who feels everything too much and yet can’t say a word of it aloud. You just sit with him, watching the other players file back onto the ice like nothing happened, like the world didn’t just tilt slightly off its axis. And in that quiet, in that fragile space between heat and healing, something unspoken passes between you.

You glance down at his knee, at the way he’s holding it like he’s not sure if he can trust it anymore. And your hands itch to help. To touch. To fix. Not just the bruises in his body but the ones buried in places far deeper, places that you, too, have learned to protect like sacred, broken things. Practice continues without him, Coach barking out instructions, pucks ricocheting off the boards, skates slicing like silver across the white. But the two of you remain seated, tucked just slightly out of reach from the rest of the world, bound together not by words but by silence and circumstance and a tangle of emotions too complex to name. You jot down a few notes in your book, pen gliding mindlessly now, thoughts half-drowned in the electricity that hums quietly between your shoulder and his. 

Jay leans back, rubbing his hands over his face like he’s trying to scrub something out of his thoughts. And you don’t look at him, not directly. But you feel him there, beside you, in the weight of his breathing and the simmer of his presence. You wonder if he feels it too, the way the space between your knees barely touches, the way your shoulders almost brush, the way every breath you take feels just slightly heavier because of him. 

After practice, the rink is quieter now, emptied of the thunderous rhythm of blades on ice, the thudding pulse of pucks striking boards, the boyish laughter and the barking drills. The fluorescent lights above buzz faintly, a tired orchestra of static and hum that fills the cavernous space with a ghostly kind of stillness. You sit cross-legged on the bench, notebook splayed open like a journal of war wounds, a ledger of flaws you’re determined to help fix. Jay is beside you, not quite close, not quite distant, but sitting with the kind of posture that speaks of restlessness buried deep in muscle and bone. The kind that no stretch can ease. You glance sideways, pencil poised above the page, waiting for the conversation to start, for him to meet you halfway. But he doesn’t. He’s there in body only, shoulders drawn taut beneath his hoodie, jaw clenched, eyes fixed somewhere out past the rink walls like he's seeing something far, far away. Something he won’t share.

You clear your throat softly, trying not to let the irritation creep into your tone. “Are you even listening?” you ask, voice light, teasing almost, but there’s an edge there, a sharpness hidden behind the casual. “Because if you don’t care about getting better before the game, then we’re wasting our time.” Still, no answer. Just the faint sound of him shifting his weight, his knee probably still throbbing beneath his clothes, though he refuses to complain. Jay has always worn pain like a badge, never seeking sympathy, only challenge. But this, this silence, it isn’t stubbornness. It’s something else. Something quieter, more personal. It feels like a wall rising up between you again after you’d both spent so long trying to tear it down with quiet gestures and silent understanding. You set your notebook down slowly, turning to look at him fully now. And that’s when he speaks.

“Who was that boy you were talking to in the beginning of practice?” His voice isn’t biting, not sharp or mocking like you expected. It’s careful, too careful, like he’s trying to sound casual but failing entirely. It lands in the space between you like a stone in still water, sending ripples that reach far deeper than he’ll admit. And for a moment, you just stare at him, lips parting slightly in confusion, the question catching you so off guard you almost forget to breathe. 

You blink. “Jungwon?”

There’s a pause. A beat that stretches too long. Then: “Yeah. Him.”

You furrow your brow, unsure whether to laugh or scold him. “What does that matter?” Jay shrugs with the lazy grace of someone pretending not to care, but you see the way his fingers twitch against his knee, the way his jaw ticks slightly. He’s too composed for someone who's supposedly just ‘curious.’ His eyes don’t meet yours now. Instead, he busies himself with examining the tape on his wrist, like it holds answers he’s too afraid to find in your face. 

You narrow your gaze. “That’s not really any of your business, you know.” And there it is, the truth unsaid, the fragile line you both keep walking. The tension coiling beneath every word you speak to each other, a dance of proximity and avoidance. His eyes finally lift to meet yours, something unreadable in them. A spark of something you can’t name. Not yet.

He shrugs again, but this time it feels like armor. “Didn’t say it was. Just… wondered.” You exhale, the sound heavy with frustration, but not just at him. At yourself. At how quickly your chest tightened when he asked. At how easily you could read between the lines of his too-casual tone. You pick up your notebook again with shaking fingers, trying to will the heat from your face, trying to shove the moment back into something clinical, something safe.

“Well,” you say after a pause, voice clipped as you flip a page, “I’d like to get back to your stretches now, if you don’t mind.” Jay doesn’t respond immediately. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head tilted slightly toward you. He watches the side of your face like he’s trying to memorize it, trying to see something in your profile that you won’t say out loud. But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask again. Just lets the silence stretch between you like a fraying thread. And still, even in the stillness, you feel the weight of him beside you like a gravity pulling at the edges of your restraint.

You begin to talk again, reciting what needs to be done, which muscles he needs to target, what angles he needs to avoid to stop aggravating the joint. But your voice sounds strange to you now, too tight, too careful, like it’s been dressed in armor. You glance up briefly and catch him staring again, not at your hands, not at your notes, but at you. Always at you. 

Time stretches, slow and sticky like sap from a wounded tree, as you move through the remainder of your notes, explaining each stretch again in patient, measured tones. Your voice is soft but firm, the kind of gentle insistence that comes from knowing what you’re talking about and caring too much to be dismissed. Jay listens this time, even if his expression is unreadable, more shadows than light. He sits with his back curved, eyes lowered, brow furrowed in a quiet storm of frustration and focus. You ask him if he’s been doing the stretches you assigned and his reply is a low grumble, almost a growl, as if admitting defeat to the air rather than to you. 

“Tried,” he mutters, voice roughened by pride and something he can’t quite name, “but they hurt more than they helped.” 

You sigh, the sound carrying a weight that doesn’t belong solely to this moment. You kneel before him, brushing your hair behind your ears like a soldier tying back their banner before battle. “Then you were doing them wrong,” you reply, the words not scolding but certain, like the slow unfolding of spring after a bitter winter. You rise and move toward him, slipping into the space beside his seated form on the bench, your fingers brushing over his wrist gently as you coax him to stand. He obeys, but not without reluctance, the kind of resistance that doesn’t come from distrust, but from something deeper, something tangled in his own ribs, knotted in the cords of his heart. You demonstrate the posture again, turning slightly to show how your knee aligns with your hip, how the stretch should feel like a pull and not a tear. But as you step back to make room for him to try it, your foot catches on the edge of your own bag, traitorous and silent, and suddenly the world tilts. You flail forward with a gasp, arms reaching for something solid, and Jay catches you before your body can meet the cold, uncaring floor.

His arms come around you swiftly, instinctually, like muscle memory, like he’s caught you a thousand times before in dreams he doesn’t remember. His breath escapes him in a hiss as the movement jars his knee, and you gasp in tandem, both of you locked in a suspended, breathless moment of mutual alarm. You straighten in his hold, hands resting lightly against his chest now, your palms splayed over the steady drumbeat of his heart. It’s only then that you realize he’s still holding you. And you’re still letting him. For a heartbeat; no, for a whole symphony of heartbeats, you don't move.

His arms, warm and trembling ever so slightly, are wrapped securely around your waist. His eyes, dark and lit with something you can’t quite decipher, stare down into yours with an intensity that steals the air right out of your lungs. The fluorescent lights above seem to fade, casting the moment in a softer glow, as though time itself has folded inward and left only this suspended pocket where nothing exists but you and him. And then, without even thinking, without fully realizing what your body has decided, you begin to lean in.

Your breath catches. His lashes lower. The world narrows to the mere inches of space between your mouths. You can feel the heat of him, his breath, the soft rustle of the fabric at his collar, the barely-there tremble in his hold. You’re close enough now to see the faint freckle at the corner of his jaw, the smudge of tiredness beneath his eyes, the scar just above his brow. You are close enough to kiss him. And you want to. God, you want to. But just as your lips begin to close the distance, just as the air tilts toward something irrevocable, Jay turns his head sharply to the side. You freeze. Mid-motion. Mid-breath.

He clears his throat awkwardly, a hand coming up to grip your arm, not harsh, but firm enough to guide you back to earth. “Sorry,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear. “I — my knee, I shouldn’t be holding you like that.” And then, carefully, gently, like you’re made of spun glass or secrets too delicate to break, he sets you down on your own two feet again.

The warmth leaves you immediately, as though someone has opened a window to let in the cold. You step back, confused and suddenly small, the edges of your confidence curling in on themselves like burning paper. You blink down at your shoes, cheeks heating, pulse racing as if your body hasn’t quite caught up to the rejection your heart just received. “Is there anything else you want me to do?” he asks, his voice quieter now, strained and formal. He doesn’t look at you.

You hesitate, your throat tight, your pride frayed. You shake your head, a whisper caught in your chest. “No. That’s… that’s all for now.”

Jay nods, expression unreadable once more, a mask of cool indifference pulled over the face of a boy who just looked at you like you were made of starlight. “I better get going then.” You say nothing. You can’t. You watch as he limps slowly away, each step echoing like a closing door, like a heartbeat fading in the dark. And then he’s gone.

You sit down slowly, notebook still open in your lap, pages fluttering in the draft he left behind. The silence that fills the rink is different now, thicker somehow, as if it holds echoes of things unsaid. And you’re left there alone, heart stinging, face warm with humiliation, and a bitter taste blooming at the back of your tongue. You want to scream, or laugh, or cry, or maybe all three. But instead, you sit there with your hands still trembling slightly, wondering what exactly just happened. Wondering if it meant something. Wondering why it couldn’t.

The days pass like breath caught in your throat, never quite exhaled, never quite released. You keep your head down, hands busy, heart shelved like an old book collecting dust behind your ribs. You move through practice with the cold efficiency of someone who knows what they’re doing and refuses to be shaken by sentiment; at least not anymore. If Jay notices the way you don’t linger by the benches anymore, or how your gaze drifts anywhere but in his direction, he doesn’t say anything. Or maybe he does notice, maybe he notices everything and simply doesn’t know what to do with it, with you, with the heavy silence left in your wake. You’ve found a temporary anchor in Sunghoon, who’s been limping slightly on his left leg for a few practices now. He’s easier to work with, smiling, receptive, appreciative without crossing invisible lines. You offer him techniques, adjustments, reminders to ice and rest. He listens. He thanks you. And though your mind drifts back to Jay more times than you’d like to admit, flashing in those brief seconds between movements, appearing like a shadow every time you blink, you push those thoughts down, burying them like seeds in winter soil. 

But you notice.

Of course you notice.

Jay’s limp, though masked well beneath his stubborn pride and athletic grace, returns the day before the first game. Subtle to the untrained eye, just the slightest falter in his stride, the tiniest hesitation when he pivots too hard on his left side. It cuts through your self-imposed indifference like a blade, sharp, inevitable. You clench your jaw, fists tightening around your clipboard, war playing out behind your eyes. You don’t want to care. You don’t want to still care. But here you are, caring anyway. Coach calls for a ten-minute break, his voice echoing through the rink like a church bell, and you take that sound as your cue. You move toward Jay without thinking, clipboard held like a shield, resolve coiled tight in your chest. You tell yourself you’re here to be professional, that this is part of your job, that your heart is nothing but a quiet organ beating behind your ribs, it has no business interfering with tendons and joints and routines. Jay sits on the edge of the bench, pulling at the tape around his wrists, and your shadow falls over him before your voice does.

“I noticed your limp’s back,” you say, even and clinical, like you’re reading out symptoms from a chart instead of acknowledging the ache that’s been burning a hole in your chest for days. You don’t look at him. You can’t. He straightens slightly, wiping sweat from his temple with the back of his glove. “I’ve been doing the stretches.”

You nod once, still focused on your clipboard, though the words blur and bleed together on the page. “Before tomorrow’s game, stretch early and ice immediately after,” you say. “Don’t skip it.” He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s waiting for something more, like he’s holding something in his mouth, something fragile that might shatter if he breathes too hard. Then, carefully, his voice cracks the air between you like a pebble on glass.

“About the other day in the locker room—” Your spine stiffens. Your pulse stumbles. But you don’t let your mask falter. Instead, you cut in, your voice brisk and precise.

“I was thinking we could try a different form of therapy,” you say. “Something that focuses more on low-impact stretches and deep tissue. It might help more long-term.”

He exhales, and it’s not frustration or anger; it’s confusion, maybe even hurt. “That’s not what I was going to—” 

“It’s fine,” you say, and this time your voice does falter, just slightly, like a violin string pulled too tight. “You don’t have to explain. It was clear.” His mouth opens. You keep going. “You don’t feel the same way,” you say, and now your eyes lift, finally meeting his. And it’s a terrible thing, because he’s looking at you like he doesn’t understand the words coming out of your mouth, like he’s never been more stunned in his life. But you don’t let yourself get swept up in it. You keep your voice level, sharp with embarrassment, honed by the weeks of silence and avoidance and pretending. “I’d appreciate it,” you say, and your voice is soft now, almost breaking, “if you wouldn’t bring it up again. Just… spare me the humiliation, okay?”

And then, before he can speak, before he can call out your name or reach for you or cast another look that might make your knees weak, you turn and walk away. The sound of your boots on the ice-polished floor is the only thing you hear. Not the beat of your heart, not the breath caught in your throat, not the echo of your name behind you, only the silence that follows you like a shroud, thick and unyielding. You walk until the cold air bites at your cheeks and the rink fades behind you. You walk until you are just a girl again, alone in the echoing hallway, heart bleeding quietly inside your chest. 

Finally, It’s game day. 

The air feels heavy with electricity, like something important is about to break. The rink is abuzz with the quiet war-drum of preparation, sticks clacking against the ground, skates carving soft grooves into rubber, the rustle of jerseys being pulled on like armor before a battle. You stand in the back corner of the locker room, tucked away from the fray but still inside its rhythm, your clipboard abandoned for now, your laughter light and warm as it floats into the stale air. Jungwon is beside you, easy company with a boyish grin and a kind sort of curiosity that doesn’t ask for anything more than what you’re willing to give. His presence is uncomplicated, a balm to the storm that’s been churning in your chest for the past week. He’s cracking jokes, a little sharp but clever, and you laugh freely for once, like the sound doesn’t cost you anything. There’s something about today that feels strange though, like you’re standing at the edge of something. A precipice. A cliff with no railing.

Jungwon nudges your shoulder with his, eyes twinkling with mischief as he leans in to whisper something only you can hear, something stupid about the way Heeseung tapes his socks too tight or how Jake brought his baby’s pacifier instead of his water bottle. You giggle into your hand, shoulders shaking, just in time for a voice, deep, commanding, like thunder cracked through a glass sky, to slice through the locker room. “Huddle up.” Everyone moves instantly.

Jay’s voice is unrecognizable from the one you’ve grown accustomed to, the one laced with sarcasm or irritation or those low, quiet murmurs you’ve only ever heard in the in-between moments when it was just the two of you. No, this voice is a war cry. It’s sharp and magnetic, dragging the eyes and ears of every player to him like he’s the only sun in the room and they’re just desperate, orbiting things. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you exhale. Jay stands in the center of the locker room, tall and broad, chin tipped up, one fist closed around his helmet and the other gesturing with subtle but unshakable control. His dark hair is damp and pushed back, beads of sweat just beginning to prick along his brow from the warm-up, and his eyes are twin daggers, focused, deadly. You realize, then, that this is Jay as captain, Jay in his final form, Jay as the version of himself that eats pressure for breakfast and spits out excellence. You’ve never really seen him like this. And it hits you square in the chest. 

God, he’s beautiful like this. Beautiful and terrifying. Like lightning dancing across a frozen lake. Like something wild that could burn you alive if you got too close. You stand frozen, wide-eyed, caught in a kind of reverent silence that only deepens when Jungwon leans close again, voice low and teasing: “You’re staring.” You laugh — too loud, too quick, startled out of your daze, and that’s when it happens. Jay stumbles. Not on his feet, no, his posture stays rigid, his stance the same, but the words in his mouth, once flowing like riverwater, trip over themselves. A stutter, subtle but jarring, breaks the air like a skipped heartbeat. You blink, confused at first, and then you follow the line of his gaze; his eyes locked directly, unflinchingly, on you. Your laughter dies in your throat.

Jay looks away fast, like your face was too bright, too blinding. He shakes his head once, hard, trying to dislodge whatever momentary ghost took hold of him, and when he speaks again, his voice is firm and clean. No cracks. No hesitation. But the pause, the falter, it lingers in the air like perfume. And everyone felt it. Maybe they don’t know what it means, but you do. Oh, you do. You stand a little straighter, Jungwon now just a shadow beside you as your focus returns wholly, helplessly, to Jay. He commands the huddle with renewed authority, drawing the team in like stars around a sun. And still, beneath all that composure, you know it, you can feel it, the tension that thrums in the silence between his words. The weight of what was left unsaid in that locker room. The awkwardness of that almost-kiss, that half-second eternity where your heart had leapt and his had pulled back. You wonder if he feels it too.

When he finishes the pep talk, the team breaks with a unified roar, sticks thudding against the benches, skates scraping as they rise to storm the ice, but Jay doesn’t look your way again. Not once. He keeps his gaze forward, unyielding, captain-steady. And yet, for that one fractured breath, he’d looked at you like you were the only thing in the room. Like maybe the words he couldn’t say had filled his mouth all at once and rendered him speechless. And it lingers. Like smoke after fire.

The arena is alive. Electric. It thrums with the kind of energy that only belongs to game night, shouts and whistles, sneakers scraping against concrete, the distant reverberation of blades cutting across frozen ice like poetry etched in glass. The crowd swells and hollers and surges in waves like a storm kept just barely at bay, but you, you are still. Poised at the edge of the chaos, pen between your fingers and a notebook cradled in your lap like it holds the whole universe. You’re supposed to be calm. Collected. Clinical. But beneath the soft tap of your pen against paper, your pulse is racing like something wild caged beneath your skin. They’re doing it. They’re actually doing it.

Every note you wrote, every correction you whispered beneath fluorescent locker room lights, every careful observation you tucked into the quiet margins of your planner, it’s breathing now. It’s real. The team is moving like a single beast, every shift on the ice more seamless than the last. Their passes are tight, clean, threaded like silver through the seams of the opposing defense. Their positioning is sharp, adjusted just as you suggested, and Jay, God, Jay is a storm in motion, skating with such relentless precision it nearly makes you dizzy to watch. There’s a moment when he pivots on a dime, receives a pass from Jake, and nails a slap shot that rockets straight past the goalie’s glove with a sound like thunder, echoing, undeniable, final. The whole crowd erupts. And your chest swells with pride so fierce you forget to breathe for a second. You don’t cheer. You don’t scream. You don’t jump up and throw your arms around like the rest of the spectators who are all giddy limbs and painted cheeks. But your smile; quiet, soft, almost secret, could light the whole rink. 

There’s a strange ache in the joy. Because it’s not just about the win. It’s the knowledge that they trusted you enough to listen. That the time you’ve spent, invisible and tireless, is finally seen in the way they skate, in the way they communicate on the ice like a language you helped translate. And maybe, just maybe, you matter here, something more than a daughter, something more than a placeholder. You’re part of the architecture. The bones beneath the flesh. Jungwon darts past you in a blur, a clipboard under one arm and a trainer’s bag in the other, his cheeks pink from exertion. You call out something teasing, and he shoots back a reply that makes you snort into your scarf, the two of you slipping into that easy rhythm that’s started to settle between you, like an echo, like something familiar that never needed to be explained. He’s good at what he does, even if he’s still learning. And there’s something charming in his eagerness, his instinct to over-prepare, to over-perform. You can’t help but admire it. He’s not trying to impress you, and maybe that’s why it’s so refreshing to be around him. He doesn’t want anything from you that you aren’t willing to give. 

You glance to your left where Heeseung and Sunghoon’s girlfriends are perched on the edge of their seats, wrapped in puffy coats and scarves and radiant with adrenaline. They’re shouting their boys’ names at full volume, jumping and gasping and squealing at every near miss and every stolen goal. Normally, the noise would drive you crazy, but there’s something endearing about the way their voices crack when they cheer. You watch one of them grab the other’s arm and shake her when Sunghoon skates too close to the boards, laughing like she’s afraid and thrilled all at once. There’s love in it. Raw and sweet and loud. You wonder, absently, what it must be like to feel that kind of closeness, to wear your heart on your sleeve without fear of how hard it might be broken.

And still, your eyes find him. Jay.

Every time you think you’ve pulled yourself out of the orbit of his gravity, your gaze is drawn back like a tide to the moon. He skates with his teeth gritted and his shoulders tight, every movement packed with intensity. He’s not reckless, but he’s ferocious, like something is burning behind his eyes and this is the only way he knows how to put out the fire. You see the slight limp in his stride, the subtle favoring of his left leg, but he masks it well, well enough that your father hasn’t caught on, but you notice. Of course you do. You know him too well now, even if you pretend you don’t. Your fingers tighten on your pen. There’s a moment when he looks toward the bench during a shift change, breath fogging up in the cold, jaw clenched. His eyes sweep the stands, and for a breathless second, you swear they land on you. You sit frozen. His gaze holds, unreadable. And then, he’s gone again, swallowed up by the game. You pretend not to notice the flutter in your chest.

The scoreboard blinks and buzzes, a mechanical hymn to their success, and the crowd surges forward in delight. The game marches on, and you try to return to your notes, to professionalism, to detachment. But it’s hard when your hands are trembling, not from cold, but from something far more dangerous. From hope. From confusion. From want.

The air is electric in the aftermath of victory. The walls of the locker room hum with the echoes of triumph, whoops ricocheting off metal lockers, the sharp clatter of skates being kicked off, towels slapping wet skin, voices riding high on adrenaline and pride. It smells like sweat and ice and something more sacred, like the echo of glory, like the start of something golden. The boys move through the space like kings returning from battle, bumping shoulders and laughing with that rare kind of joy that only comes from shared struggle turned into triumph. Heeseung’s lopsided grin is as bright as the scoreboard, his arm slung over Jake’s shoulder as he recounts a moment on the ice with exaggerated flair. Jay gets the loudest praise, backs patted, hands clapped, helmets nudged against his in celebration. He stands at the center of it all, looking like something carved out of fire and iron, stoic and silent, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that betrays the satisfaction he won’t speak aloud. You keep your distance.

It’s become your safe place, that edge-of-the-room observation. You smile when spoken to, you nod when needed, you laugh when the jokes make their way to you, but your heart is folded up tightly, tucked beneath the quiet task in front of you. You’re kneeling by the therapy corner, setting up Jay’s post-game ice bath, something you insisted on weeks ago when the limp first returned, something he never complained about, not even after the... moment between you. The container is half full already, the ice bucket humming beside you as cubes tumble in with mechanical rhythm. Your fingers are cold from testing the water, your breath fogs lightly in the sterile air, but your mind is far, far away, adrift on memories of locker room silence, almost-kisses, and the sound of his voice when it turned soft for you and only you. Most of the team is gone now, filing out with damp hair and open jackets, loud voices echoing down the hall. Even Jungwon gives you a wave goodbye before disappearing with your father to inventory the equipment one last time. You murmur your farewell, gaze flickering, pulse steady. Or at least it was, until the warmth of a hand wraps suddenly around your elbow. 

You startle, spinning halfway as a gasp lifts in your chest, but it’s Jay. His hand is firm but not rough, callused fingers pressing into the crook of your arm as if trying to tether you to the moment. The look on his face is unreadable, carved from stormclouds and moonlight. You straighten, trying to compose yourself, your lips parting for a question you never get the chance to voice. He cuts you off before it can form. “Are you dating Jungwon?”

The words are sharp and blunt at once, like being struck with something soft but heavy. You blink up at him, confusion furrowing your brows, heart stuttering in your chest. “What?” you manage, voice more breath than word, but he interrupts again, more urgent this time. 

“Just, please. Are you dating Yang Jungwon or not?” There’s something vulnerable hidden behind the edge of his voice, something frayed and fierce. He looks at you like the answer might shatter him, like he’s already halfway broken by the not knowing. 

You shake your head. “No,” you whisper. “Not that it’s any of your business.” But he doesn’t seem to hear that last part. Or maybe he does, and chooses to ignore it entirely. His eyes are still locked on yours, black as night and brimming with something you don’t yet have the language to name. Something heavy. Something real. He leans in. Not fast, not abrupt, no. Jay moves like he’s afraid to break the air between you. Like every inch is sacred. Like he’s measuring the distance to your mouth with centuries of longing compressed in his chest. And when his face is so close that his breath brushes yours, he murmurs, “Say the word, and I’ll stop.” It’s the gentlest threat you’ve ever heard. The sweetest cliff you’ve ever been asked to jump from. But you don’t stop him.

And when his lips finally meet yours, soft and uncertain and tender in a way that rips the breath from your lungs, it’s not fireworks that you feel. It’s silence. That same kind of silence you chase in the early mornings. That rare, impossible peace that only exists when the world forgets to spin. His kiss is reverent, hesitant, but aching beneath its restraint. It tastes like all the things he’s been trying not to feel, all the things he thought he wasn’t allowed to want. You make a sound, small and startled and aching, and then you're leaning into him, reaching up, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go. He kisses you again, deeper this time, and everything unravels. His hand finds your waist, the other rising to cradle your jaw like something precious, something fragile. You feel your back press against the wall as he walks you backward, the air around you thick with want. He kisses like a man who’s been waiting too long, like he’s trying to memorize you, like he wants to carve the shape of your mouth into the backs of his eyelids. And then it gets deeper, hotter.

His body presses into yours, anchoring you to the wall with a force that makes your breath catch, that makes your knees feel untrustworthy. His lips trail down to the edge of your jaw, your throat, breath warm and desperate. You arch into him, eyes fluttering shut, drowning in the scent of him, sweat, cedarwood soap, something uniquely him that drives you mad with the simplicity of it. But then, he pulls back. He lets go with a gentleness that makes the moment worse, like the kiss had been holy and ending it was sacrilege. He exhales slowly, still so close his breath dances across your skin.

“Is there anything else you want me to do?” he says quietly, his voice low, almost pained.

“Keep going.” You breathe, the air shot from your lungs as his mouth found yours once again, soft but urgent. Like he was giving himself to you slowly and deeply, like his heart was a locked box with the key now in your hands. 

The kiss deepens, not in haste but in gravity, as if time itself has bent its laws to accommodate the want simmering between you. Jay’s hands are a prayer pressed against your waist, the curve of your jaw, the span of your back as if committing you to memory beneath his palms. He kisses you like you’re not just a girl but a revelation, like he's been wandering ice-covered roads for years and you’re the first warmth he's felt. His body shields yours from the cold tile of the locker room wall, and you can feel every inch of him, tense and trembling with the weight of restraint, of something that borders on reverence. You’re gasping softly into him, losing all sense of place, of direction, of anything that isn’t the taste of his mouth and the staccato rhythm of your pulse thundering between your ribs.

There is nothing polite about this desire, it is vast and raw and aching, a tether pulled taut between you, stretched across every stolen glance and unsaid word since the first time he looked at you and didn’t speak. Every second of tension in the past weeks has culminated in this: the electricity when your bodies align, the reverberation of heat low in your belly, the way his lips move against yours like he’s not just kissing you; he’s trying to say something in a language only the two of you can understand. And then, The sharp groan of a door creaking open cleaves the moment like a blade through silk.

You both jolt as if shocked by lightning, Jay stepping back just enough to break the kiss, though his hands linger at your sides, still warm, still trembling. Your breath catches in your throat as you both snap toward the sound, and there, standing frozen in the doorway, is Soobin. Tall, sweet-faced Soobin, with wide eyes and a half-twist of a smirk he’s trying (and failing) to suppress. “I was just coming to get my water bottle…” he says, his voice pitched high with embarrassment, words slow and uncertain like they’re skating across black ice. He gestures vaguely toward the benches, where his half-drained bottle sits beside a crumpled towel.

Jay doesn’t move. Neither do you. You’re still pressed up against the wall, lips flushed, heart a living drumbeat in your throat. The silence stretches out, taut and teetering on awkwardness. Finally, Jay gives a tight nod, measured, unreadable. Soobin grabs his bottle in the silence that follows. “I’m gonna go… good game,” he mumbles, already halfway out the door before the sentence finishes falling from his mouth. And then he’s gone, leaving nothing but the click of the door echoing in his wake and a sudden rush of cold air that feels like the world snapping back into its natural order. And for a second, the tension remains suspended, like a note left hanging at the end of a song.

Laughter. 

It bubbles up inside you so quickly you can’t hold it back. It starts as a breathy exhale, then spills out of you in waves, warm and full and uncontrolled. You lean forward slightly, your head falling against Jay’s chest, laughter shaking through your ribs. It's the kind of laugh that comes only after a release of something heavy, something long held in, the absurdity of the moment, the sweetness of it, the fact that you were just caught making out with Jay in the locker room like a scene pulled from the pages of some high school drama. You can’t stop. Jay watches you for a beat, stunned and dazed, and then a smile slowly curves across his lips. His own laugh escapes like a sigh of relief, low and rich, a sound like melting snow in spring. His arms circle your waist again, tugging you close, and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck for a moment like he’s trying to hide from how much he’s smiling. You feel the sound of his joy vibrate against your collarbone and it feels so impossibly intimate you almost tear up. When the laughter fades, you look up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

Jay reaches out, tender and slow, and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing the shell of it like a secret. His touch is feather-light, reverent, and it stills something wild in you. You swear the whole room stills with it. He leans in again, but this time it’s gentle, slow. No rush. No chaos. Just him, kissing you like you’re the calm in his storm. His lips move over yours with a softness that makes your eyes flutter shut, with a quiet longing that tastes of something deeper; something that might become love if left to bloom.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. His breath is soft, his voice even softer. “Good night,” he murmurs, a whisper sealed against your skin, a kiss wrapped in syllables. And then he steps back. Not far. Just enough. His eyes hold yours for a moment longer, and then he turns and walks toward the exit, leaving you still leaning against the locker room wall, your lips tingling, your heart dancing somewhere halfway to the moon.

You don’t move right away. You just stand there, smiling like a girl who has a secret no one else knows, eyes dazed and warm and so full of something sweet it could carry you away. You’re on cloud nine, weightless, golden, floating. And maybe, just maybe, starting to fall.

The night air wraps around them like a loose scarf, warm enough to leave their jackets slung lazily over their shoulders as they leave the arena, the scent of ice and sweat still clinging to their skin like ghosts from the game. Their footsteps echo on the pavement, scuffed sneakers and boots dragging over gravel and cracks, their voices a low current of triumph and teasing that rides on the heels of victory. Jay walks with Jake on his left, Heeseung and Sunghoon trailing a step behind, their laughter low and lazy, the kind of carefree sound that always blooms after a win. There’s a looseness to them, shoulders unknotted, mouths grinning wide, and Jay finds himself smiling too, just enough, just the corners of his mouth, but there’s a subtle difference in the curve of his lips. Because while they talk about the game, about Sunghoon’s near goal, about the idiot who almost got benched for not backchecking, Jay’s thoughts are stuck in the locker room, with your lips against his, your laughter blooming like a secret in the hollow of his chest.

Jake throws an arm over Jay’s shoulders, leaning into him as they walk. “So,” he says, voice drawn out and heavy with mischief, “we thinking post-game celebration at the house? Open invite? You know… keep the momentum alive.” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jay murmurs, brushing a hand through his hair, still damp from his quick rinse after the game. “Maybe we invite… her,” he adds, not daring to say your name but letting it hover like perfume in the air, thick and noticeable. Heeseung, ever the perceptive one, arches a brow, lips quirking into a half-smile that says he’s already ten steps ahead. “Her, huh?” he echoes with a lilt of curiosity and amusement, shooting a look over Jay’s shoulder. “You mean Coach’s daughter?”

Jay just smirks, the kind of smirk meant to deflect without answering, one corner of his mouth curling while his eyes give away nothing. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he says casually, like it’s a motto, a rule etched into his spine. Jake lets out a low laugh, nudging Jay in the ribs, his grin all teeth. “Guess Coach’s orders don’t apply to the golden boy, huh?” And that’s when it hits. The truth of it. 

Jay’s smile falters, not dramatically, not so much that anyone watching would think he’d been struck, but inwardly, he feels the fault line open just beneath his ribs. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten. Forgotten that you weren’t just you. That you were Coach’s daughter. That there was a silent border etched in the ice between what was allowed and what wasn’t. That all this, the kiss, the way his heart had lunged forward at the sound of your laughter, the heat that had stirred when you leaned into him, wasn’t just a risk. It was forbidden. He’d let himself feel weightless with you, floating in the space of almost, and now gravity pulls him back down with a vengeance.

Sunghoon sees the shift, quick as a cut. His eyes sharpen, his joking tone dropped like a stone. “Oh no,” he says, not unkindly, but with an edge of understanding that slices clean. “Coach doesn’t know, does he?” 

Jay shakes his head, once, the movement short and stiff. His jaw flexes. “There’s nothing to know,” he says, too quickly. Then again, slower. “It means nothing.” A beat passes. It’s the kind of sentence meant to close a door, but it doesn’t quite shut. It hangs there in the air between them, fragile and unconvincing, like a paper shield against a rising tide. Jake looks over at him, not buying it. Heeseung doesn’t say anything, but the raise of his brow deepens, a silent accusation or maybe just concern. And Sunghoon, ever observant, watches Jay like someone looking at a puzzle with one corner piece missing.

Jay stares straight ahead, jaw clenched, heart dragging behind his ribcage like an anchor. The truth echoes loud in his head, though he won’t speak it: it didn’t mean nothing. It meant everything. The way your lips trembled against his, the way your laughter cracked something open in him, the way he felt more like himself, more like someone he didn’t have to guard, when you looked at him with those eyes that didn’t expect him to be the captain, or the golden boy, or anything but just… Jay. But he says nothing. Because what can he say? That he kissed the one girl he’s been told to stay away from? That in the span of a few moments, he’s already losing the fight against the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have?

So instead, he settles for silence. The kind that tastes like regret and fear all at once. The guys let it go, at least on the surface. They start talking again, lighter topics, shallow water. The conversation shifts toward what drinks to bring, who to invite, how late to stay up. But Jay barely registers it. He’s lost inside himself now, knee-deep in thoughts he can't outrun. The stars overhead glimmer faintly, veiled by the streetlamps and campus haze. He thinks of you again, of how soft your lips were, of the gentle way you laughed like you had the sun inside you, of how your hands felt when they pressed against his chest like a heartbeat, unsure and wanting. And beneath all of it, like the faint growl of distant thunder, he hears your father’s voice. The warning. The rule. And wonders just how far he’s willing to fall to keep touching the one thing he was never supposed to have.

Still, he picks up his phone and sends you a text. Even if it was wrong, it felt right.

You step through the threshold of the frat house like a swimmer entering the ocean at dusk, hesitant, but pulled in by the current of something irresistible. The air is thick with warmth, buzzing with music that pounds like a second heartbeat beneath your ribs. The lights are dim, golden and hazy like candle flames through whiskey-stained glass. Laughter echoes against the walls, tangled with the clatter of red plastic cups and the stutter of music that skips every so often when someone leans too hard against the stereo. Bodies move around you like a tide, fluid and flushed, the scent of beer and cologne clinging to everything. You feel a bit out of place, dressed more nicely than most, a little too alert to be fully one with the crowd. But there’s something thrilling about it too, about being here, in this noise and light and heat, as though stepping into a life just slightly tilted off your usual axis. You belong to the world your father tried to keep you from, and even though you’re standing still, your heartbeat is already racing.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, through knots of people, couples kissing in dark corners, teammates whoop-laughing over some inside joke you can’t hear. You spot Heeseung near the window, kissing his girlfriend like it’s the last night on Earth, hands tangled in her hair, their bodies pressed together in a way that makes you look away with a soft laugh caught in your throat. You weave your way further in, bumping shoulders with strangers, eyes searching. And then, just as you pause near the base of the staircase, two arms wrap around your waist, strong and familiar, pulling you backward into warmth that makes every nerve in your spine flare. You whirl around with a sharp breath, only to find Jay grinning down at you like the world just tilted in his favor. His smile is boyish, easy, but his eyes, they hold that steady fire that always seems to look right through your defenses. “You came!” he says, surprised but pleased, voice barely audible over the hum of music and laughter. You nod, letting a smile curl slowly over your lips. “Of course I did,” you murmur, and you don’t say it, but it’s the truth, you would’ve followed him anywhere tonight. 

Jay’s hand finds yours and it’s instinctual, the way your fingers fit together like puzzle pieces. He tugs gently, leading you across the crowded room toward the far couch where Jake, Sunghoon, and Heeseung are half-lounging, half-sitting, deep in a conversation about the game that had them all riding high with adrenaline. Heeseung’s girlfriend is curled up next to him, glowing with affection and soft laughter, and you’re pulled into the circle like a ripple in still water. The jokes start almost instantly, teasing remarks flung like soft snowballs, warm and harmless, and you laugh in return, each giggle shaking loose the tension that had clung to your shoulders since you stepped through the door. For a few moments, you forget about boundaries. About who you are and who Jay is. You forget about your father’s rules and the ache of rejection that had lived in your chest not so long ago. Here, among Jay’s friends, among your friends, maybe, you feel light. Like you’ve found something that belongs to you, something you’ve been missing. That is, until Soobin stumbles in like a storm no one saw coming.

He’s already glassy-eyed and red-faced, his gait loose and uncoordinated, that unmistakable sway of someone who’s a few drinks past his limit. He barrels into the living room like a wrecking ball, slinging an arm around Jay’s neck with the kind of heavy-handed affection only drunkenness can excuse. “Chill out on the drinks, man…” Jake says, reaching for Soobin’s cup, which is dangerously tilted and threatening to soak Jay’s shirt. His voice is careful but not unkind. “I’m good,” Soobin slurs, blinking as he tries to focus. His voice is too loud, too relaxed, carrying a reckless kind of weight. “Anyone know any single girls around here?”

Sunghoon chuckles, tossing a comment over his shoulder about Soobin’s breakup with Yunjin. There’s a teasing edge to his words, but Soobin doesn’t flinch. He just shrugs like the loss of someone he loved is an old wound he’s decided to stop tending. Then his gaze shifts, and lands on you. Recognition hits his face like a lightning strike. “Hey—” he slurs, pointing at you with a crooked smile. “Did coach lift the ban on dating his daughter—?”

The question hangs in the air like a guillotine. But Jay is quick. “Shut up, Soobin,” he snaps, voice low and sharp enough to cut. His arm tightens slightly at your waist. Soobin blinks, confused for a beat, then throws up his hands in surrender. “Damn. My bad.” Jake grabs him gently by the arm, steering him away toward the kitchen, his voice hushed but firm. “Come on, man. Let’s get you some water.” 

The group’s laughter doesn’t return. The bubble pops. The easy lightness vanishes. And suddenly, all you feel is every pair of eyes that had glanced your way during that too-loud moment. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until Jay’s hand gently slides into yours again. “You wanna go upstairs for a bit?” he asks, voice soft this time, quieter, like he’s asking if you want to escape. You don’t hesitate. You nod.

Jay’s room is quieter than the rest of the house, sealed off like a snow globe from the riotous storm downstairs. When you step inside, you pause for a moment just beyond the threshold, unsure of what to expect but immediately hit by a surprising stillness. The air is tinged with something faintly woodsy and familiar, maybe his cologne or the way his jacket always smells when he leans too close. You drift further in and lower yourself slowly onto the edge of his bed, fingertips brushing the neatly tucked comforter, as your eyes sweep over his space with a subtle curiosity. Everything is tidier than you imagined it would be, books lined up like soldiers on his desk, sneakers in a straight row near the foot of the bed, a single jacket hanging from the back of his chair. It’s lived-in, but purposeful. A room that carries him in every corner. It doesn’t scream for attention. It doesn’t try to impress. It’s just... him. And maybe, for some reason, you aren’t surprised by that. Jay is a boy of precision, quiet control, even when the world around him spins out of balance. He closes the door with a soft click, leans his back against it for a moment like he’s collecting himself, and then lets out a breath. “Sorry about Soobin,” he murmurs, not quite meeting your eyes.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice soft. It’s not the first thing on your mind, not even close. But it’s easier than diving straight into the waves crashing inside your chest. The silence stretches, heavy with everything you aren’t saying. Jay crosses the room slowly, but not to sit beside you. He hovers near the desk for a second, hand drifting across a stray pen, eyes lost in thought. You know he feels the tension, same as you. And maybe, for once, silence isn’t the answer. So you break it.

“I don’t care what my dad says,” you tell him, your voice low but steady, slicing through the quiet like a blade. “He can’t dictate my life.” That catches him. Jay turns to look at you fully now, the weight of your words visibly landing in the set of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow. But he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lets out a rough sigh, dragging a hand down his face like he’s trying to clear the thoughts clouding his mind.

“Your father’s been like… a father to me,” he finally says, voice strained and quiet. “I don’t think I’d still be playing if it wasn’t for him. He’s given me so much. And now—” He exhales sharply. “Now I feel like I’m betraying him.” You swallow hard. Not because you’re angry, but because you understand. You know what your father has meant to Jay, how he took him under his wing, coached him, mentored him, praised him in ways you only ever watched from a distance. But it still hurts, because the man Jay reveres has always kept you at arm’s length.

“At least he acted like a father to someone,” you say, and there’s something quiet and broken in your voice you hadn’t meant to let slip. Jay straightens, confusion flickering in his gaze.

“What do you mean?” You look down at your hands, fingers laced tight in your lap. “I mean… he was never really there for me. Not in the way that matters. He was always on the ice, always yelling plays, chasing glory. And when he wasn’t focused on the team, he was focused on Jaehyun. Because Jaehyun played hockey. Because Jaehyun was his golden boy. And me?” You shrug, bitter laughter bubbling in your throat. “I was background noise. Just a complication he had to keep out of the way.”

Jay doesn’t speak, but he moves, slowly, cautiously, sitting beside you now, close enough that your knees brush. His eyes are on you, unreadable but soft, like he’s seeing pieces of you he hadn’t known to look for before. “He doesn’t get to tell me who I can care about,” you say, voice firmer now. “Not when he didn’t care enough to be a father to me when it mattered.”

Jay swallows hard, his throat bobbing with the weight of everything he’s holding back. And then, almost cautiously, he reaches for your hand. When your fingers touch, it’s like the air shifts again, warmer, charged, trembling with something unspoken. “Then we should tell him,” Jay says quietly. “We shouldn’t hide it. If this is real, if you’re willing, then we should tell him. Together.” 

You stare at him, heart thudding, and slowly you nod. “Okay. Together.”

And something shifts in his expression, relief, maybe, or quiet awe. But you don’t have time to name it, because he leans in. The kiss is gentle at first, slow and uncertain like he’s afraid to break you. His lips press to yours with the care of someone tasting something they never thought they’d get to have, a wish whispered into reality. Your hand lifts instinctively to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat under your palm, and he deepens the kiss, his fingers finding your waist like they’ve always belonged there. The air around you grows softer, heavier, your breaths mingling in the small space between your bodies. And when the kiss turns into something more — when it becomes less about proving something and more about being seen, there’s no fear. Only trust.

He touches you like he’s memorizing you. Like every moment might be his last. You guide him just as much as he guides you, hands and lips and hearts speaking in the language only the two of you understand. There’s nothing rushed or reckless about it, only an aching tenderness that bleeds into every motion. You hold him like a promise, and he holds you like a prayer. He moves inside of you with practice poise and heavy breathing. “You feel so good.” He breathes onto your shoulder, his forehead stuck to the skin, leaving feather-like kisses along the column of your neck. You arched into his touch with gasp leaving your mouth like wind. 

“Jay” You whined, nails scratching at the skin of his back. No doubt leaving marks in their track. “Jay Jay Jay” His name became a chant, a prayer. Your heat in tandem with his movements, your bodies so close it leaves little room to be desired. You loved him, in this moment you loved him. You don’t know how real it was, or if the euphoric feeling of being so close to him was clouding your mind but you didn’t care. This is where you wanted to be. And when it’s over, when the hush settles around you once again, Jay wraps his arm around your waist and draws you against his chest, your legs tangled under the sheets, your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you says anything for a long while. There’s nothing that needs to be said. His fingertips trace idle patterns along your spine, and you close your eyes, letting the rhythm of his breathing lull you into something peaceful. Something safe. You know the world won’t make this easy. You know the storm is still waiting just outside the door. But here, in this small, stolen moment, it’s just you and Jay. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like that’s enough.

Morning clings to your skin like sunlight through gauze, gentle, golden, slow to wake. Jay’s room is dim, the blinds cracked just enough to allow the earliest threads of dawn to filter in and cast warm slants across his bare shoulder, across the soft rise and fall of his chest where your cheek had rested not long ago. You’re still tangled in his sheets when you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, his skin tasting like sleep and dreams and something sweeter still. He hums, barely conscious, but his arm curls around you reflexively, keeping you close for a second longer, like even in sleep he can’t quite bear to let you go. “I’ll see you at practice,” you whisper, brushing your fingers across the mess of his hair. And Jay, with eyes still heavy and lips curled into the faintest smile, murmurs, “Yeah. You will.” It’s not a promise, exactly, but it feels like one. A truth passed quietly between two people who’ve crossed a line they can’t uncross. A line they don’t want to.

You leave his room feeling like you’ve been rewritten. Every step down the stairs, out the door, into the crisp morning air is wrapped in the strange, shining veil of newness. The sky above is still pale and sleepy, the trees rustling with the hush of an early wind, and the world, for once, seems like it’s moving in rhythm with your heartbeat. It’s all the small things you notice now. The way the clouds stretch like long strokes of white across soft blue. The way your lips still buzz with the echo of his. The way your heart tugs you back toward him even as you walk away. 

You don’t want to leave this bubble. You don’t want to break the illusion, the sweet, delicate dream you and Jay carved for yourselves in the safety of his room. But the real world waits, loud and sharp and unavoidable. And as you climb into your car, as the engine hums to life and your fingers grip the steering wheel, a new weight settles in the space behind your ribs, the knowledge of what’s coming. Because sooner or later, this secret won’t stay wrapped in soft cotton and whispered kisses. It’ll be exposed. Confronted. And though Jay hadn’t said it with urgency or fear, you could tell in the way he looked at you last night, bare and serious, that it mattered to him. That this thing between you wasn’t something he wanted to hide in shadows, even if it meant facing the hardest part of all: your father. You sigh as you pull into your neighborhood, the sun climbing higher behind you like a slow, burning truth. You’ve gone over it a dozen times already in your head — what you’ll say, how you’ll say it, how your father will react. But the words never quite line up. Not in a way that doesn’t twist your stomach into uneasy knots. Because you know your father. You know his pride, his protectiveness, the fire behind his eyes when someone breaks the rules he’s set in stone. And this? You and Jay? You’ve broken more than just a rule. You’ve stepped directly into the one place he made clear no one was allowed to go. But how can you explain that Jay is worth the fallout?

That behind the hard shell of his quiet and his discipline is a boy who holds you like you matter. Who listens when your voice wavers, who catches you when your steps falter, who kissed you like he was both terrified and thrilled to finally get to do it. Jay isn’t just a boy on your dad’s team. He isn’t just another name on a roster. He’s the reason your heart races when you walk into a room. The reason practice feels like more than just routine. He’s the one who’s made you feel, truly feel, after years of being tucked into the corners of someone else’s life. But will your father care about any of that?

You pull into the driveway and sit there for a moment, your hands trembling faintly over the wheel. The house is quiet. The world is quiet. But inside you, a thousand questions scream to be answered. You wish it could be easy. You wish you could walk through the door, look your father in the eye, and tell him that for once, you chose something for yourself, and that you’re not sorry for it. Instead, you think about how to crack the surface. How to ease into the truth without igniting it like a fuse. Maybe over dinner. Maybe after the game next week, if the mood is good. Maybe if he sees that Jay respects you, if he knows this wasn’t reckless or flippant. Maybe then, Your phone buzzes softly in your bag, drawing you out of the spiral. A message from Jay. “Made it out of bed. Barely. Miss you already.”

And just like that, a smile tugs at your lips. Even in the shadow of what’s to come, he finds a way to make the light reach you. And maybe that’s enough to keep going. To brave the hard conversations. To start telling the truth, piece by piece. You text him back.

“See you at practice, golden boy. ❤️” Then you take a deep breath, open the car door, and step out, each footfall soft and deliberate, like walking a tightrope strung between the memory of last night and the weight of the day ahead.

Practice is a familiar rhythm now, a melody you’ve memorized without meaning to, clipboards and crisp notetaking, laced-up skates echoing against the boards, the low bark of your father’s voice commanding drills like a general at war. You drift through it in your usual way, purposeful and observant, always keeping one eye on movement, posture, the subtle twitches of discomfort or strain in the players’ bodies. You jot things down. You offer suggestions to Jungwon, who takes your advice with a grateful grin and a chuckle. He’s become a good friend, easy to talk to, funny without trying too hard, unbothered by your silences when you’re deep in thought. And today, like most days, he’s helping your father by handing out gear and managing water bottles, moving with that natural rhythm he has, an ease like he was born for this, even if he doesn’t have the bruises or battle scars of the guys on the ice.

But today is different. Not for any visible reason, not for any change in the air, but because Jay is here, and he’s looking at you like you hung the stars he’s been skating under. And you? You’re trying your best not to look back. You fail, of course. Miserably. You catch yourself glancing at him over the rim of your clipboard, pretending to check a stat when in truth you're watching the way his jaw clenches when he’s focused, the way his brows furrow as he lines up a shot. There’s a softness to him now that you know what his kisses feel like. A gravity in the way he moves that you notice only because you’ve seen him at his most unguarded, tangled in sheets and moonlight. Every time your eyes meet, his mouth pulls into a lopsided grin, and once, when your father is turned and barking instructions at Heeseung, Jay has the audacity to wink at you. You nearly drop your pen.

It becomes a game. A subtle, delicious one. Eyes across the rink. Smirks hidden behind hands. He bumps shoulders with Jake and Sunghoon like normal, but every time he skates past your side of the rink, he finds an excuse to glance your way. And though you keep your expression mostly neutral, dutiful, professional, you feel like a teenager sneaking glances at a crush across a crowded cafeteria. There’s something electric in the secrecy of it, something young and stupid and wonderful. Then break is called. Water bottles pop open, helmets are tugged off, and the room settles into temporary chatter. Jay meets your gaze again, this time not playful, not teasing, but something more. A tilt of his head. A quick nod toward the hallway. You blink, then lower your clipboard and move, careful, subtle. You duck past the bench, past Sunghoon and Jungwon chatting near the entrance, and slip into the hallway like you were meant to be there all along.

The moment you round the corner, he’s there, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting hours instead of seconds. He straightens when he sees you, that familiar smile blooming across his face, and before you can say a word, he steps forward and kisses you. It’s fast and warm and a little clumsy from urgency. You make a surprised squeak against his mouth, but the sound dissolves into laughter as you push playfully at his chest. He chuckles, pulling back just enough to look at you, and there’s mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to do that all practice,” he murmurs, still close enough that you can feel the breath of the words on your lips. You shake your head, heart racing, but your grin is impossible to hide. “I’ve been wanting you to do that all practice.”

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he wants to memorize it, the way you taste like mint gum and something undeniably you. His hands settle at your waist and for a moment it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. There’s no ice, no drills, no clipboard or game or coach waiting to shout your name. There’s just this hallway, and the silence between your joined mouths, and the pulse of something bright and blooming in both your chests. When he finally leans back, brushing his thumb across your cheek, his tone softens. “Did you think more about what we talked about? Telling your dad?”

The smile slips a little from your lips. Not completely; but enough to show the weight of it. You nod, slowly. “Yeah. I think we just need to do it. Rip the bandaid off. Clean, quick, no waiting around for the perfect moment.”

Jay lets out a breath, half-laugh, half-nerves. He leans back against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. “God. You’re braver than me.”

“You’re the one who said we should tell him.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually agree.” You laugh, but there’s truth nestled in the heart of it. “He’ll get over it,” you say, but the words taste like hope more than certainty. “Eventually.”

He nods. The silence is longer this time, but not uncomfortable. It’s thick with unspoken things, what-ifs and maybes and fears that neither of you are ready to voice yet. Then, from the far end of the rink, your father’s voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. “Hey! Where’d you go?”

Jay straightens like he’s been electrocuted. You stifle a laugh as he leans in quickly, kisses your temple with exaggerated tenderness, and says, “Guess that’s my cue.” You roll your eyes, turning to follow him back into the rink, but then, like he can’t help himself, he smacks your butt lightly with one hand. You yelp in surprise, twisting back to glare at him, but he’s already walking away, grin stretching wide across his face. He tosses a wink over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

The weight of practice has barely settled into Jay’s muscles before he hears it, his name, sharp and unmistakable, barked across the rink like a slap. “Park!” Coach Bennett’s voice booms above the low hum of skates and post-practice chatter, and it lands like a stone in the pit of Jay’s stomach. He straightens instinctively, spine stiffening, turning his head toward the source. The coach is standing at the threshold of his office, arms crossed, brows low with that permanent scowl etched into his weathered face. It’s impossible to tell if he’s furious or just...being himself. But Jay knows that tone. Knows it too well. It’s the tone that means come here. Now. 

He nods once, respectful, as if he isn’t panicking inside. As if his hands aren’t suddenly clammy and his heart isn’t hammering against his ribs like it wants out. He gives a fleeting glance back toward the ice, where you’re still collecting equipment with Jungwon, your eyes catching his for a moment, just a flicker. He doesn't smile this time. Just turns and walks. The office door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the familiar chaos of the rink. In here, it’s quiet. Sterile. A single desk lamp casts a dim, amber light over the papers scattered on Coach Bennett’s desk. Framed photos of past seasons hang on the walls, championships won, trophies hoisted high, a dozen versions of the same proud scowl that the coach wears now, as he motions silently for Jay to sit.

Jay obeys, lowering himself into the chair like he’s done a hundred times before. But today, the air feels thicker, like it’s pressing down on his chest. He keeps his expression neutral, hands clasped tightly between his knees. Captain’s posture. Soldier’s stance. Coach Bennett doesn’t beat around the bush. “Jay, I’m going to be honest,” he begins, his voice rough as gravel, fingers laced tightly together as he leans forward on the desk. “I’ve heard some rumors.”

Jay’s mouth goes dry. The coach continues, eyes boring into him like a spotlight. “Rumors that someone on this team has been fooling around with my daughter. Even after I forbade it.” Jay blinks, once. The seconds stretch and bend like rubber bands. His throat tightens.

“Do you know anything about this?” He wants to lie. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wants to rip the words from his chest and lay them out plain. He swallows hard. “No, Coach, I–” But Coach Bennett doesn’t let him finish. He leans back, cutting him off with a raised hand.

“I trust you,” he says, voice suddenly softer. And for a flicker of a moment, a single heartbeat, Jay feels relief. His breath catches on the cusp of hope. Maybe this is his way of saying it’s okay. Maybe he knows, and he’s offering a backdoor blessing. Maybe, just maybe — 

“I trust you,” the coach repeats, voice firm now, “to nip these rumors in the bud.” Jay’s heart stops. “You’re the captain. That means handling this, loudly and clearly. In front of the whole team. If someone is messing around with my daughter, I want to know who. And I want them dealt with.” Jay opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Coach Bennett isn’t finished.

“Whoever it is, if I find out, they’re suspended indefinitely. Until I decide if they ever come back.” He folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t care how good they are. Rules are rules. And I don’t break them for anyone.” Jay’s stomach churns. Then the killing blow. 

“You’re like a son to me, Jay. That’s why I made you captain. I trust you.” Jay tries to swallow the guilt rising like bile in his throat, tries to keep his features smooth and unreadable. But it’s like a knot has formed in his chest, thick and tangled and impossible to ignore. Like a brand seared into his ribs. The kind of pain that doesn’t scream, it smolders.

He nods once. “Yes, Coach. I’ll take care of it.”

The coach leans back in his chair, apparently satisfied. “Good. You’re dismissed.”

Jay stands, body on autopilot, legs heavy as stone. He walks out of the office slowly, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway. The air out here feels colder. Sharper. Like the truth is a knife pressed against his neck. He should feel proud. He said the right thing. Wore the right mask. But he doesn’t feel proud. He feels hollow. There’s no ice bath waiting for him now. Only the silent weight of guilt, trailing him like a shadow as he heads for the locker room. And for the first time in years, Jay isn’t sure if he deserves the “C” stitched to his jersey, or the way you look at him like he’s someone worth trusting. Because he’s lying to the only two people who’ve ever mattered. And that lie is starting to rot in his chest.

Practice ends beneath the low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint echo of skate blades scraping against ice, but Jay’s world has long since tilted off its axis. He doesn’t even register the ache in his body anymore, not the dull throb in his knee nor the stiffness in his arms. He’s moving on instinct, eyes only searching for one thing, you. You’re by the bench with Jungwon, laughing at something he said, your hair falling in a way that makes his heart clench. For a moment, Jay forgets the weight in his chest, the pressure behind his eyes. You look so soft in the cold of the rink, a calm tucked away in chaos. He doesn’t have time.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words falling from his lips like lead. You turn to him, confused, eyebrows furrowing, lips parting to ask what he means, but he’s already walking away, like a man marching toward his own execution. And maybe that’s what this is.

He doesn’t glance back as he calls for the team to gather. “Line up,” he shouts, his voice sharp and firm, echoing off the walls. The players shuffle toward him in loose lines, shoving each other, still high off adrenaline from drills. You’re watching now from the sidelines, your clipboard held tightly in your hand, curiosity pinching your expression. Jay forces himself not to look at you. If he does, he’ll lose the will to speak. “I have an announcement,” he begins, loud enough to silence the chatter, his voice ringing out into the stillness. And then the words leave him, like poison.

“There are rumors floating around that someone on this team has disobeyed Coach Bennett’s orders regarding his daughter.” The moment your name hangs in the air, not spoken, but pointed at, like a dagger, everything stops. You freeze, blinking at Jay, disbelief warping across your face like a crack in glass. Your breath catches in your throat. It doesn’t make sense. Is he —?

“She is off limits,” Jay continues, his jaw clenched, every word a betrayal. “If you’re caught with her, you will be suspended pending review by the coach. If he decides you’re no longer necessary to the team, you’ll be removed entirely.” The silence is deafening.

You step forward like your bones are no longer willing to sit back and let this happen. Your face is a map of fury and heartbreak, eyes blazing, jaw trembling. “What the fuck, Jay?” you shout, voice rising like a wave crashing against the shore. “What the hell is this? What are you doing?” He can’t look at you.

You shove past the stunned players and stomp into the center of the rink, your voice climbing in volume, sharp and sure. “I’m not a fucking piece of meat. I’m not something you can pass rules about like I’m property.” Your voice wavers with rage, with disbelief, with the sudden sting of being betrayed not only by your father, but by the boy who kissed you like you were everything. “I’m my own person. You don’t get to control me.”

Coach Bennett’s voice cracks like a whip across the silence. “Rules are rules.”

You spin on him now, eyes flashing, years of buried resentment erupting like magma. “Your rules are bullshit! They’ve always been bullshit. You think you can control everything with a whistle and a clipboard, but you can’t. You were never there for me. You were there for Jaehyun. For hockey. But not for me.” The entire team is frozen. Nobody dares to breathe.

Coach Bennett’s face darkens. “I can’t dictate your life,” he says lowly, “but I can dictate theirs.”

That’s when it snaps. You feel it inside your chest, the last strand of restraint snapping like a violin string under pressure. You look at him, then at Jay, and the pain in your eyes could shatter the ice beneath you. “Go to hell,” you spit, your voice like fire. “All of you.” You throw the clipboard. It hits the ground with a clatter that echoes like a gunshot. And then you turn, storming out of the rink, each footfall hard and fast, your breath shallow, your fists clenched at your sides. No one calls after you. Not even Jay.

He just stands there, alone at the center of the storm he helped create, watching the person he loves disappear through a door he may never be able to open again. And the silence you leave behind is heavier than any punishment Coach Bennett could ever give.

The hallway smelled like stale sweat and antiseptic soap, like frozen water thawing too fast, and your breath came in jagged pieces, lungs aching against your ribcage as you tried to contain everything you felt, humiliation, betrayal, rage. They were blooming in you like rot, black and furious, and you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. Your fingers were trembling as you pushed open the locker room door, letting the chill of the empty room swallow you whole. It was quieter in here, almost sacred in a way, the clatter and chaos of practice replaced by the muffled hum of old air vents and the distant drip of melting ice. You moved robotically, grabbing your notes, your clipboard, your stupid pens that you didn’t even like, stuffing them into your bag like they’d wronged you personally.

If this internship wasn’t so damn important, if you weren’t so close to the future you’d been clawing toward for years, you’d quit right now. Walk out of this rink, toss your badge in your father’s face, and never look back. But you couldn’t, not yet. How dare he try to dictate your life. And how dare Jay let him? You blinked hard, the sting of unshed tears biting at the corners of your vision. The boy who kissed you like he meant it, who whispered against your skin like you were precious, who looked at you like he was seeing something holy, that boy stood in front of an entire team and threw you under the bus like you were just some distraction. Just some problem to be managed. After everything you’d shared. After what you gave him. The door creaked open.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. The room felt different with him in it, weighted and warm in that way that used to make you feel safe, but now made you want to scream. Jay stood there in silence for a moment, his mouth parted, like the words were caught behind his teeth. His eyes searched your face like he could still find a trace of forgiveness there. Like maybe if he looked long enough, the damage he did might disappear. “I’m sorry—” he started, voice soft, pleading.

You spun around fast, eyes wild, your voice sharp like a blade. “You humiliated me.” He flinched like the word was a slap, but you didn’t stop. “You took his side. After everything we said. After what we did. How could you?” Jay opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No excuses. No explanations. Just silence.

You shook your head, bitterly, lips tight with disbelief as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Forget it,” you muttered, walking toward the door like you could outrun the hurt. “I should’ve known. I should’ve known better than to think I mattered more than him.”

“Please—” he called out, voice cracking. “Just… let me explain. Please.” You turned to him, hollow laughter spilling from you like a broken song. “Why should I? What I say doesn’t matter, Jay. You’ll just do whatever my dad says anyway.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face like he could pull the guilt off himself. “He’s like a father to me—”

“And he’s my father,” you snapped, your voice rising with the full weight of all the years you’d held this in, “Mine. And he treats me like I’m a fucking ghost. Like I’m not even there unless I’m making his coffee or holding his clipboard. You think it feels good to watch someone who isn’t even his blood get treated like a golden child, while his real child gets nothing? Not praise. Not love. Nothing.” Jay’s face softened with something that looked like heartbreak, his mouth trembling with words he didn’t know how to say. “He cornered me in the office today,” he said, his voice rough. “He demanded I make a statement in front of the team, to put the rumors to rest, and if I didn’t — he made it sound like I’d be finished. What was I supposed to do?” 

“Tell the truth,” you breathed. “You should’ve told the damn truth.” He sighed, defeated, and sat down on one of the benches like the weight of it all had finally caught up to him. His shoulders curled forward, elbows on his knees, hands hanging limp.

Then, quietly; so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “I love you.” The air left your lungs. He looked up at you now, and his eyes were nothing like the confident boy you first met on the ice. They were soft, and tired, and afraid. “I know it’s soon,” he said. “I know everything’s a mess. But I do. I love you.” 

Your heart clenched. You hadn’t expected it, not here, not like this, not in the middle of a locker room still echoing with betrayal. But even now, even bleeding, you knew your feelings hadn’t changed. So you sat beside him, your thigh pressed to his, and reached for his hand. “And I hate that he wasn’t a good dad to you,” Jay whispered, his voice cracking. “I hate it. But I can’t lie to him, not after everything. I owe him.”

You nodded slowly. “I agree, Jay. I’m not asking you to lie.” You turned to him, your voice quiet, but firm. “But I won’t be with you if we keep this a secret. I won’t be your dirty little secret. We tell him. Or this ends.”

Jay nodded, gripping your hand tighter. “Okay. Let’s—” A voice cut through the air like a gunshot.

“Too late.” You froze. 

Your head whipped toward the door, and there, standing in the frame like the ghost of a thousand disappointments, was your father. Coach Bennett. Face hard. Shoulders squared. His eyes were sharp and unreadable, but the fire beneath them was unmistakable. Every nerve in your body screamed. Jay stood up slowly, but you didn’t move. You didn’t breathe. It was too late. You didn’t need to tell him. He already knew. The moment felt frozen in amber, suspended between one breath and the next. You stood beside Jay like you were both statues cast in shame and defiance, the silence between the three of you straining at the seams.

His eyes bore into Jay with something colder than ice, sharper than skates on glass. His voice came low and level, but the weight of it dropped like an axe. “I trusted you.” 

Jay didn’t flinch, but you saw the way his eyes dropped, the way his shoulders curled inward slightly like he’d taken the hit straight to the chest. You wanted to speak, to say something, but you felt your pulse in your throat, thick and rising. Jay looked at his shoes, then at your father, then finally at you, his eyes steady, jaw tight. And then, slowly, deliberately, he reached down and took your hand in his. “I love her,” he said. No embellishment, no excuses. Just truth. Laid bare like a wound. “I’m sorry.” For a heartbeat, it almost felt like that might matter. Like maybe love could be enough to change something here.

But your father’s eyes darkened, his lips pulling into a grim, tired line. He didn’t even blink. “You’re suspended.” The air in the room imploded. The silence that followed was so deep it rang in your ears. You felt the earth tilt under your feet, the ripple of that sentence echoing in your bones. You didn’t move. Neither did Jay.

“Dad—” you started, your voice raw.

“No.” The word came fast and sharp, slicing through your protest before it could fully form. He didn’t even look at you. His eyes were still locked on Jay like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re suspended,” he repeated, voice like splintering wood. “Until I’m ready to let you back. Heeseung will be acting captain. Now get out of my rink.”

Jay inhaled sharply, something like heartbreak flashing behind his eyes. He opened his mouth, voice trembling with the weight of everything he hadn’t gotten the chance to say. “Coach—”

“Get out.” There was finality in those words. No room for argument. No crack to slip a plea through. Jay stood still for a moment, eyes flicking to you one last time, and there was something in his gaze, something that said I’m sorry. He picked up his bag without a word and walked out, the door shutting softly behind him, the sound so gentle it felt cruel. And then it was just you and your father, the air still vibrating from all that had just broken apart.

You turned toward him slowly, your heart pounding, your face flushed with fury. There was no more space left inside you for restraint, for tiptoeing around his silence or swallowing your feelings like they didn’t matter. “How dare you?” you breathed, your voice a whisper and a scream at once. 

His eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest like a fortress. “Rules are rules.” But you weren’t having it. Not now. Not anymore.

“No.” You stepped closer, heat radiating off you like a wildfire. “What is your problem? Why the sudden urge to act like a father now? What, because it finally gives you control over something? Someone?” He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, his stare hardened, and you could see it, that wall he always kept between the two of you, the one made of pride and coldness and hockey schedules and missed birthdays. 

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said, like he was reading from a goddamn script.

You scoffed, bitter laughter escaping before you could stop it. “Of course it isn’t. It never is with you. It’s always do this, don’t do that, be quiet, be useful, don’t embarrass me. You never listen to me. You never see me.” He didn’t say anything. Didn’t blink. Just turned back to his desk like he could will you out of the room by ignoring you.

So you did what you always wanted to do. You left. You turned on your heel, your throat burning, your heart thundering, and walked out without another word. Not because you were giving up, but because there was nothing left to say to someone who never heard you in the first place. The door clicked shut behind you with a sound too small for how big this moment felt. And still; through the rage, through the betrayal, through the cracks, you carried one thing with you as you walked: Jay's words echoing soft as snowfall. I love you. That, at least, was still yours.

Jay’s house is quieter than you’ve ever known it to be. The kind of quiet that sinks into your skin, that makes you wonder how long he’s been alone with his thoughts, how long he’s sat in this silence with the weight of your father’s words pressing into his chest like stones. Sunghoon answers the door after only a few knocks, and his face softens when he sees you standing there. There’s something in his gaze that reads like understanding, like he knows exactly where you’re headed and what you need to say. He steps aside without a word and gestures upstairs. “He’s in his room,” he murmurs, voice gentle, as if not to disturb something sacred.

You nod your thanks, offering him a small, grateful smile, and begin to climb the steps. As you approach the top, a sound reaches you, soft, melodic, aching in its simplicity. Not loud or showy. Just… honest. It takes you a second to realize what you’re hearing: music. Guitar strings plucked with care, each note falling like a raindrop into still water. The sound is fragile and deeply personal, like a secret you’re not sure you’re meant to hear. You pause just outside his room, heart slowing to match the rhythm of the melody, and close your eyes for a moment. You let it wash over you, the way it trembles, the way it yearns. It speaks of sadness and of hope, of loss and love all braided into the same fragile thread. You push the door open gently and there he is, Jay, sitting on the edge of his bed, guitar nestled in his lap, his fingers dancing across the frets with a kind of quiet reverence. His brow is furrowed in focus, his lips slightly parted as he hums along, completely unaware that the world is watching. That you are watching. And something in you splinters, because how can someone look so heartbreakingly beautiful in their stillness?

He looks up and startles slightly when he sees you, his cheeks flushing the softest shade of pink like you’ve caught him baring something intimate. He moves to set the guitar down quickly, a sheepish laugh escaping his throat. “I didn’t think anyone was home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting away.

You step into the room, closing the door behind you. “It was beautiful,” you say softly, like speaking too loudly might break the magic still lingering in the air. He lets out a small breath, almost relieved, but shrugs modestly. “I only play sometimes,” he murmurs. “When it’s quiet. When I need to think.”

You walk closer, until you’re in front of him, your gaze soft but steady. “I’d love for you to play for me sometime,” you say, and you mean it. There’s something deeply vulnerable in the way he held that guitar, something that speaks more truth than words ever could. Jay looks at you then, really looks, and you see the shadows behind his eyes, the questions, the uncertainty, the pain he’s been hiding under that quiet exterior. “Are you okay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as if asking it too loudly might cause him to retreat into himself again.

He exhales, his shoulders sinking as he leans back slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know who I am without hockey.” You nod, understanding that ache all too well, the feeling of being untethered, of having the one thing that defined you ripped away before you were ready to let go. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

But Jay reaches for your hand and shakes his head, his fingers curling around yours with surprising tenderness. “Don’t apologize,” he says firmly. “You didn’t do this. I made the choice. I just… wish it didn’t feel like losing everything.” 

Your heart aches for him, for the boy who’s spent his whole life trying to be good enough for a man who only saw his potential on the ice. You lift his hand to your lips and press a kiss into his knuckles. “I see you,” you say softly. “Even without the jersey. Even without the captain’s C.”

Something flickers in his expression, gratitude, adoration, a flicker of something deeper. He leans in slowly, brushing his lips against yours, tentative at first like he’s afraid you might still be angry, still slipping through his fingers. But you lean into him just as hungrily, and the kiss deepens, your hands finding their way to his hair, his neck, pulling him closer like you never want to be apart again. The guitar is long forgotten, resting gently on the bed as your bodies lean into one another. The heat builds slowly, quietly, in the soft sighs between kisses, in the way his fingers trace along your spine, in the way you fit together so naturally. There’s no rush, no desperation, only the steady, quiet need to be known. He kisses you like an apology, like a promise, and you respond with forgiveness, with fire.

The room fills with the sound of breath, of whispered names, of two people trying to love each other through the wreckage. And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, with your heart pounding in tandem, you realize that even in the ashes, something new can grow. That maybe love is the one thing strong enough to stand after everything else falls. 

You lean back only slightly, your lips leaving his. “I have something that might make you feel better.” Your voice carried a heavy lit to it, sultry and sweet. Jay’s eyebrows rose, a playful smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah?” He asks his tongue darting out to lick his lips, his hands finding your waist to pull you impossibly close. “How, so?” 

You fall to your knees in front of him, your hair hanging around you like a veil waiting to be pushed aside. Jay let out a low groan, one that stems deep within his belly — deep and guttarl. He wore grey sweatpants, your nimble hands finding the jaw string to pull at. His eyes drank in every movement. The way you lowered his pants to his ankle, the way you pulled him out of his boxers with a hiss, a small knowing smile on your face. 

“Fuck.” He choked out his hands finding your hair. Your mouth found his tip, sucking slightly. Jay’s eyes fluttered a shaky breath leaving his lips as he gathered your hair into a tight ponytail, tugging just lightly. “Agh fuck.” 

His groans were only encouragement for your movements, a rhythm settling in as you bobbed your head up and down on his shaft. The hand that wasn’t holding your hair, settled on your cheeks as his fingers grazed the indentation of himself inside your mouth. “Don’t stop.” He praised, his grip on your hair tightening “Don’t fucking stop, i’m close.” 

You speed your movements up — a gag in the back of your throat sounding over the harshness of Jay’s ragged breath and gurgling moans. “Where do you want it, baby?” He asked you. You nodded at him, signaling for him to finish in your mouth and that he did. His eyes squeezing shut, his hand yanking at your hair like it was a lifeline. He came down your throat – hot. You pulled away, your breath harsh swallowing all that he gave you. 

“Did that help?” You smirked, whipping your mouth with the back of your head. Jay laughs his head lazily, nodding a smile on his face. “I’m glad.” 

The morning is crisp and cold, the sky still tinted with the faded gray of pre-dawn. The air bites at your cheeks as you walk across the familiar parking lot, one last time. You’ve arrived early, earlier than anyone else, before the team, before Jay, even before the locker rooms have truly come alive. The hum of the arena is low and steady, the kind of hush that exists only in those sacred minutes before the world begins to move again. You clutch the envelope in your hand tightly, the edges slightly curled from how many times your fingers have clenched it overnight. It holds not just a few simple documents, but the manifestation of your decision, your first true act of defiance not rooted in emotion but in intention. Your choice. You make your way through the maze of hallways you know by heart, each echo of your footsteps reverberating off the walls like a goodbye. When you reach the door to your father’s office, you hesitate for just a second. Your fingers hover over the woodgrain, and you let out a slow breath, steeling yourself. Then, you knock.

The door opens shortly after, and your father blinks in surprise when he sees you. He’s not dressed in his usual suit and tie just yet, still in his fleece-lined warm-up gear, clipboard tucked under one arm. You hand him the envelope without a preamble. Your voice is level, your gaze steady. “I need you to sign these.” 

He furrows his brow, flipping the envelope open and scanning the first page. “What’s this?” 

You don’t flinch. “They’re transfer papers. I’ve accepted an intern position with the university across town. Their hockey program offered me a place to work starting tomorrow.” The silence is sharp and immediate. His eyes snap up to meet yours, laced with confusion, the beginning edge of protest in his throat. “You’re transferring? You don’t have to do that. This is rash. You’re not thinking clearly.”

But you don’t budge, don’t shrink under his stare. You won’t be talked down from this cliff. “No,” you say calmly, each word deliberate, crystalline. “I’ve thought about it a lot. This isn’t just about what happened with Jay. This is about years of feeling small around you. Of being overlooked. Of being managed instead of raised.” He opens his mouth again, some protest half-formed on his lips, but you don’t give him the space. You don’t come here for a fight, you’ve had enough of those. Instead, you keep your tone measured, professional. You say everything you need to say without a single trace of venom.

“I won’t let you ruin my life more than you already have,” you tell him. “I’m not your soldier. I’m not your project. I’m not a pawn on your team board. I’m your daughter.” And for the first time, you see something flicker behind his eyes; not anger, not frustration. Something quieter. Smaller. Maybe even guilt. But you don’t wait to hear what he has to say. You simply turn and walk away, papers left behind on his desk like a verdict. Your spine is straight, your chin lifted, but your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest. Not from fear, but from the quiet, powerful rush of choosing yourself. You don’t pause. You don’t look back. And behind you, in the stillness of that office, your father is left alone, left with the papers, with the silence, and with the heavy weight of everything he’s done to bring you here.

It had been a week of something close to heaven, a fragile but precious interlude where love bloomed without restraint. Mornings tangled in soft sheets and half-spoken promises, afternoons chasing sunlight and teasing kisses, evenings curled into each other like pages of the same chapter. Jay held your hand like it was sacred, touched your face like he still couldn’t believe you were real, and kissed you like he wanted to make time stop. And for a while, it did. For a week, the world outside didn’t matter. But the silence had started to hum. Not the sweet kind, no, this was the brittle, broken silence of something missing. You caught it in the way Jay paused when the boys group chat lit up with win updates, locker room jokes, team photos without him in them. He never said it aloud, never dared to pull at the thread unraveling slowly in his chest, but you could see it. He missed it. Hockey wasn’t just a sport to Jay; it was his identity, his language, the thing he’d bled and bruised and burned for since he was old enough to grip a stick. And now, stripped of it, he smiled with his mouth but never fully with his eyes.

You missed it, too. The chill of the rink, the warm camaraderie of the team, the way Heeseung grumbled every time you corrected his posture but secretly appreciated it. You missed teasing Sunghoon, calling him a ballerina every time he accidentally twirled like a figure skater on a bad turn. And then there was your father, a ghost in the hallways of your heart, haunting the edges of your mind. As much as his choices hurt, as much as his anger pushed you away, there was still a child inside you who missed their dad, no matter how absent. 

So when the boys decided to have a barbecue that Saturday, burgers sizzling on the grill, laughter echoing through the backyard, bottles of soda clinking together like makeshift champagne, it felt like breathing again. The world righted itself for a moment. Heeseung and his girlfriend were playfully arguing over the best way to season corn, Sunghoon was making a mess of the grill, smoke billowing in a way that made Jake dramatically declare they were “all going to die,” and Jay, your Jay, was watching you with soft eyes and Sera babbling in his lap, gripping his thumb with her tiny hand. You leaned into the warmth, into the joy, just as your phone rang. 

The screen lit up: Mom. Your heart stumbled. You hadn’t heard from her in a while, she was always somewhat removed, orbiting your life like a distant moon. Not unloving, but not present either. Always polite. Always brief. Her voice on the other end of the line was calm, collected, and surprisingly direct. “I’d like you and Jay to come to the rink,” she said. “Just the two of you.” The words hit you sideways, strange and off-kilter. You blinked at the grill smoke, at the glow of the afternoon sun casting long golden rays across the yard. Jay noticed your expression, his brows furrowing in gentle concern.

“Why?” you asked your mother, confused. “Why the rink?”

She didn’t explain, not really. “I think it’s time,” she said instead. “Please.” 

And somehow, despite every piece of your rational mind screaming confusion, your heart said yes. Not because you knew what waited at that cold rink. But because something inside you, some sliver of hope still left unspoken, whispered that maybe, just maybe, the ice didn’t have to be a battlefield forever. So you turned to Jay, hand still wrapped around your phone, and told him. “She wants to meet us at the rink.”

His face mirrored your own disbelief. But he didn’t ask why. He just nodded. And said, “Okay.”

The sky is beginning to gray by the time you and Jay reach the rink, that familiar stretch of parking lot empty and echoing beneath your footsteps. The glass doors hiss open, letting out a breath of cool, sharp air that prickles against your skin like old memories. The sound of skates against ice, the steady drone of a Zamboni finishing its last lap, the scent of chilled rubber and piney disinfectant; it's all the same, unchanged, and yet nothing is the same at all. 

Jay squeezes your hand as you walk in, and you squeeze back, his warmth grounding you. You keep expecting to see your mother, her sleek coat, her warm expression, her sunny voice carrying across the echoing lobby, but when you step fully inside, it's not her standing under the buzzing fluorescents. It’s him. Your father. You freeze. Rage unfurls in your chest, slow and molten. You turn immediately, heels pivoting toward the exit with cold finality, but Jay is quicker; he gently catches your wrist, his voice soft, pleading. “Just… stay. Please. Hear him out.”

And you don’t know why, but something in his tone, in the quiet steadiness of his gaze, makes you stay. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or maybe it’s hope, shriveled but not yet dead. Your father’s shoulders look heavier than you remember. There’s a strain to his face, like he’s been carrying something too long. And when he speaks, it’s not the usual bark of orders or that razor-edge tone laced with judgment, it’s low. Gentle. Sincere.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and the words hit you like the crack of a puck against the glass.

You blink. “What?”

He nods slowly, eyes on you with something startlingly close to regret. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “For everything. For… not being there the way I should have. For choosing the game over you. For being too proud to see what was right in front of me.” You don’t know what to say. This is the man who turned away when you cried, who praised your brother's goals but never your straight A’s, who ran drills longer than dinners and could name every stat in the league but forgot your favorite color. And now he's standing here, shoulders sagging, saying sorry like it costs him everything. 

“I lost my daughter,” he continues, voice gruff with the weight of what he’s admitting. “And I lost the best player I ever coached. The best captain I ever trusted.” He glances at Jay, who stands beside you, spine stiff but eyes glistening. “It was like a slap in the face,” your father murmurs. “And I deserved it.”

Silence settles, a snowfall between you all. “I wish I could go back,” he says. “Wish I could change a lot of things. But I can’t. I can only move forward. And moving forward means trying to be better. Not just as a coach. As a father.” Your eyes are glassy now, throat tight. You look at Jay, and he’s watching you; not your father, not the rink, but you, like you’re the only one that matters in the world. 

Your voice comes out small, trembling around truth. “Jay makes me happy.”

And that’s when your father finally turns to him, arms crossed like a coach, but not unkind. “Then I want you to be with him. If he treats you right.” Jay blinks, startled, then nods quickly, a smile breaking slowly over his face like dawn cresting the horizon. Your father lifts a brow, his voice tinged with dry humor now. “If he doesn’t… he’ll regret it.”

Laughter bubbles up, genuine and breathless. You laugh, and Jay laughs, and even your father chuckles, shaking his head like he’s only just beginning to understand what it means to let go of the past and step into something new. And in that moment, everything shifts. Not completely. Not perfectly. But enough. You walk out of the rink hand in hand with Jay, the weight in your chest lighter than it’s felt in years. The past is behind you. The cold can’t touch you. And ahead lies only the warm unfolding of a future finally, finally your own. 

@hoonjayke @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340 @firstclassjaylee

[addictedtohobi]

I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND, PJS (PART 1)

• SYNOPSIS: A fleeting encounter with Park Jay at a high school party leaves a quiet imprint on your then broken heart. Years later, you find him again, now as an icy guitarist of the campus boy band, HYPHENIX. You never spoke again, but you remembered his eyes, his words, his presence and how he lingered at the back of your mind years after. You wanted to reach for him, but he was so far, popular, untouchable that you decided to pour your heart to him in secret, until the secret was revealed but someone else claimed it before you could. Or in which you pour your heart into anonymous letters for the cold, distant guitarist, Jay, only to watch your best friend claim every word as her own.

• PAIRING: Park Jongseong (Jay) x afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 21.4k (Part 1)

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, university settings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, shy reader x popular Jay, down bad reader, betrayal, abandonment, miscommunications or lack of communications, profanities, name calling, stereotyping, best friend's boyfriend, reader is nosy and loves other people's business way too much (my twin fr), fear of rejection and unwanted attention, body image issues in the beginning, toxic relationships and friendships, low-key stalker reader, reader wears glasses, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything.

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic turned out to be more lengthy than I initially planned, so I am splitting it into 2 part. Lmk if you want to be tagged for part 2 when I post it. Your likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated. Thank you so much for showering my write ups with your love. Happy reading♡♡

The music blaring through the speakers hit you first, deep bass vibrating through the pavement long before you reached the house. It meddled with your heartbeat, getting louder with decreasing distance from the party. You sighed leaning your head on the car's window, the house looked unfamiliar, windows glowing red, blue, green against the night. You didn't know whose house this was, just that your boyfriend said everyone would be there and to let yourself loose from time to time. You fixed the glasses on your nose, and adjusted your jacket, you turned your head to look at your boyfriend.

He looked in your direction briefly when he felt your gaze on him before sighing, "don't stress too much." You gulped, feeling anxious, "I don't really know anyone there Joon," you started, eyes brimming with worry, "you'll stay by my side right?" You heard him exhale a deep breath before throwing a wink at you, "yes babe, don't worry, you look really beautiful today, I'm stressed someone will steal you away from me." You pushed him a bit, blush creeping on your neck as you turned back towards the window. 

Cars were lined up the driveway, recklessly parked. You wouldn't expect anything less from high schoolers anyway. You could hear the screams and laughter from the porch, it was loud and chaotic and it made your stomach churned. "Let's go," your eyes followed your boyfriend's actions, and you proceeded to take off your seatbelt. He stood beside the door tapping his foot impatiently, you shook your head and opened your side of the door. He locked the door behind you and started making his way towards the house. You hurriedly rushed behind him, and then slowed your steps down when you reached beside him. 

The air was thick inside, tangled in a weird mix of cheap perfume, alcohol and something burning, maybe it was food or the fireworks you didn't know. Your hand latched onto your boyfriend's sleeve as soon as you entered. The environment was warm, crowded, strangers pressed against each other like puzzle pieces that don't belong together. The LED lights stung your eyes. You moved through the crowd tightly pressed against your boyfriend's side. Every corner of the room was alive with conversations you weren't a part of, some shouting over the music, some laughing at their friend's antics, some posing for pictures. The walls of the house felt suffocating though it was relatively big, the energy inside too much, reminding you that you don't belong here. 

The music was pounding in your ears, too loud, too bothersome. You stood beside your boyfriend, who anxiously texted his friends asking where they are. Your eyes trailed towards the dance floor, bodies swayed with the rhythm of the music, some too close, some trying not to lose their balance. It happened too fast, one moment your boyfriend was beside you, another moment he rushed towards the other side of the room completely disregarding your presence. Your eyes followed him, your steps following suit. Someone shouted over the bass, out of frustration or joy you couldn't tell. 

You grabbed your boyfriend's hand, your action making him stop to look at you. Just in time someone crashed into your shoulder, their clumsy actions making you stumble as a slosh of liquid hit the floor beneath you and onto your heel-cladded feet. The sticky scent of fruit punch or some weird concoction clung in the air, few people gathered around to look at the mess before laughing and stepping over it like it didn't matter. Your feet felt sticky and your boyfriend rolled his eyes at the sight, "how about you go to the bathroom and clean yourself? I'll wait for you here." You grimaced before nodding your head at your boyfriend and making your way towards the bathroom. 

You washed your feet and heels with irritation seeping deep in your bones, this is the exact reason why you don't do parties, it's messy and loud and everything you tend to avoid. After drying your feet and heels with tissue, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror. You combed your fingers through your loose hair to make them a tad bit presentable, fixing your glasses yet again you sighed and texted your boyfriend to meet near the dance floor. You made your way out of the bathroom and towards the dance floor, scanning the room for your boyfriend as you waited for him to text you back. 

"Joon?" You tapped his shoulder when you found him leaning on the wall as he chatted with someone animatedly. He turned around, visible irritation laced on his face as he excused himself and made his way in the opposite direction, you followed suit, confused about his sudden discontent towards you. "Joon, where are you going? I asked you to wait for me, didn't I?" He stopped abruptly when he was sure he was away from the eyesight of his friends. You collided with his back, "I was just catching up with my friends! Can't you at least leave me alone for a few minutes?" You shuddered at his high-pitched tone, "you know I don't like partying yet I came since you promised that you'll stay by my side."

"Gosh you're so clingy-" his voice was cut off when someone called out his name, both of you turned around towards the person, "is this your girl Joon? Won't you introduce her to us?" You eyed the girl who smiled at you after giving your boyfriend a sharp side eye. He shrugged, ushering her to join others before he turned towards you. "Take your jacket and glasses off, try to look good for me in front of my friends, I've a reputation to uphold." Your eyes widened at his words rendering you speechless. It was the first time he had uttered those words to you, was he ashamed of introducing you to his friends just as you were? You thought he loved you for you. 

All of your thoughts came to a halt when he turned you around and took off your jacket despite you protesting. You weren't comfortable with showing much skin. He knew that the spaghetti strap top you were wearing underneath made you feel more conscious about yourself and your surroundings. He threw the jacket somewhere on the couch, grabbing your hand and made his way towards his friends. "Joon, you know I'm not good with people, what are you doing?" He ignored your pleas as he stopped in front of his friends. You put your head down, hoping somehow they'll focus on your boyfriend and forget that you existed. 

"Your girlfriend is really pretty, Joon." One of the girls from his circle chimed, her nails lightly scratching his arms, she didn't even spare you a glance as she went on about how pretty you are, and how funny you must be. Everyone else looked a bit uncomfortable at the exchange aside from your boyfriend and her. Someone cleared their throat to break the awkward tension and your boyfriend snapped from his trance and proceeded to introduce you. Awkward and sympathetic smiles greeted you in return, their eyes meeting with each other like they knew something you didn't. The same girl asked you to have a drink, laughing obnoxiously loud as you declined as if not abusing your liver was a mundane thought to have. 

Joon grabbed the drink from the waiter and held your face with one hand as he forced you to drink whatever it was in that cup, you pushed him, startled by him constantly crossing your boundaries without a single care. The whole group gasped as he stumbled backward and fell on the ground. Few of his friends took out their cameras to record the scene. You wiped the remnants of the drink dropping down from your mouth, your eyes fixed on the way your boyfriend glared at you. The girl from earlier sat by his side, words of venom spilling off from her cherry lips as she helped your boyfriend get up. And with the way your boyfriend's hand rested low on her lips and the concern etched on her face, you knew what place you held in your boyfriend's life.

You shook your head as you made your way towards the back of the house, taking off your glasses momentarily to wipe the tears that managed to fall off your eyes. The backyard was nearly empty save it from a few people who were smoking joints in the corner. You made your way towards the small staircase which led towards the gazebo and sat there, contemplating on your reactions towards your boyfriend's actions. You turned to look if he followed you but got more disappointed as you saw him wrapping his arms around the girl instead. You couldn't figure out if the shiver that went down your spine and the goosebumps on your skin was because of your boyfriend's actions or because of the weather. 

You let the tears flow, your glasses fogging up as you took deep breaths to control losing your shit right at a stranger's house. This isn't how you planned the start of your weekend to go, yet here you were, drowning in your misery as your mind went back to all the things your boyfriend did previously which you ignored. You were too busy believing in his potential that you forgot to look at how he is in the present. All the lies, the excuses, the missed dates, the secrecy everything played in front of your eyes like a tape record on loop. You blame yourself for letting him play with you for so long. 

You stopped crying when a blurry image came into view, you took off your glasses, wiped it with the hem of your top and put it back to get a better view. You heard a sigh from beside you, as your vision adjusted, a handkerchief. You took it in your hand and wiped your tears, unable to look at the person who handed it to you. "Young love, huh? Must be painful..." your eyes fell on the stranger who sat beside you, a half-smile adorning his face, not unkind but more like he knew how you were feeling, "but hey, heartbreak makes a good story for later, right?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment, "you're saying it like you're some old man trapped in a hot boy body." 

"You're saying I'm hot?" Your cheeks flared up with heat as you let the weight of your words sink in your head, your eyes widened in embarrassment as he just laughed. You took in his appearance, he was laughing with his head thrown back, carefree and unfiltered like he owned the world. His cheeks flushed, either from alcohol or laughing, you weren't sure. His smile was wide, the kind of smile which made people look at him twice even without meaning to. His hair's a little messy, pushed back like he ran his hands through it one to many times. His eyes shined with a tipsy charm as they locked with yours, the kind of eyes which makes you forget your own name even when he's sober. 

"I saw what happened back there, thought you'd appreciate a company," his words brought your mind back to your current situation, frown appearing on your relaxed face once again. You sighed, hugged yourself, maybe you could use some company, "I really thought he loved me," you started, head hanging low as you felt shame consume you for being so stupid, "I let him break one too many of my boundaries." He sighed as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders. His scent enveloped your senses, calming your frantic heart a little, "dump him, he's not worth it and you're better than this." 

You looked at him briefly, "I don't know if I have that much confidence in me, I don't have anyone else other than him." His hand made its way to your chin, lifting it up slightly, you're met with his sharp gaze, "confidence isn't loud you know, sometimes confidence is just choosing yourself over others. And I believe you're closer to choosing yourself than you think." His determined eyes and lopsided smile made your heart skip a bit. He reluctantly removed his hand from your chin, coughing awkwardly as he looked away as if his words didn't really pierced through your heart. "You think so?" You questioned meekly as you fiddled with your fingers. He looked at the sky, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped, "You don't need to be confident to walk away. You just need to take one step. And yeah, maybe you feel like he is all you have right now but he is not all there is. Don't build your entire world around someone who can't hold it for you." 

You let his words sink in your chest, your boyfriend was the only person you had, he made sure of that. Maybe deep down you knew you deserved better than him, and maybe you just needed someone else to remind you, "you're great with words, can I at least know the name of the person I am trauma bonding with?" He chuckled at your words, "Jay's fine." You nodded, telling him your name in return. You spent the rest of the night talking with him, your mind drifting far off from your boyfriend as you laughed at him while he explained how he got fed up with his friends who were shit-faced drunk and creating a scene. He told you how parties weren't really his cup of tea but he liked entertaining his friends who loved it. As the night went on you realized he was drunk as well and probably won't even remember this small exchange with you in the morning, yet you were glad you weren't drowning alone in your misery tonight. 

"Ah, I need to go. My friends have been calling me non stop and my phone was on silent mode." He was on his feet and off towards the house before you could bring yourself to stop him to ask for his number. You booked a cab to get you back to your house when you realized he didn't take his jacket back with him. You just looked at him as his figure disappeared into the crowd and ran towards the direction he went but you lost him and you wondered if you'll ever be able to meet me again. You reached home, head pounding due to all the crying and a little bit of drink which your boyfriend forced you to drink. 

You quickly messaged your boyfriend to call it quits and blocked his number from every possible app you could, not even waiting for his reply. You opened your instagram, your fingers moving before your mind did. You recognized a guy from your school, Sunoo, at the party. He's a social butterfly. Maybe his profile could help you with finding Jay. You opened his profile, sighing in relief as his page was public, you went to the tagged section to see if you could find Jay and there he was. You zoomed in to take a clear look, the picture was blurry but the jacket in the picture looked familiar to the one currently draped on your chair. You clicked on it to see if his username is tagged and thankfully it did. His profile was more low-key than low-key, just some pictures of his guitars, a group picture and a name, HYPHENIX.

The university's campus is louder and lively than it needs to be. The courtyard buzzing with laughter and talks of people huddling together to make memories. People walk in with their little groups, coffee in one hand, backpacks slung over their shoulders, carefree like they've already figured out how to survive here, like they know they belong here. You pass through them like wind brushing past one's hair, your head down, hands clasped around the straps of your backpack. The hallway isn't any better, students rushing to get to their respective classes, some frantic, some lazed out. There's echo of shoes, heels, sneakers, boots, which remind you that you are walking with them, just not beside. Voices overlap, laughter resonates, lockers being slammed shut and class door's daring you to knock and enter. Everyone seems to have somewhere to be, someone to text, someone waiting for them to join and you just wheeze past them, not invisible entirely just easy to miss. 

You're halfway to your class when you hear someone call out your name, turn around and smile softly at your best friend, Ava, short for Avalyn, to catch up to you. "Where are you running off to?" You take off your headphones and place it inside the case, "my morning class Ava! You got free time?" She shook her head, her keratin smooth hair swaying slightly at her movement, "I'm trying for cheer squad remember? I'm going for a practice session to get through the audition." You nodded your head in understanding, she had been trying to have a spot in the cheer squad for a while now, she's good at it you think, but you guess popularity plays a key role in getting into the team. 

She continued to walk by your side as she gushed about how she's getting better at cheering, you listened to her, that's what you usually do. You bid her goodbye and enter your class. The class went on as usual, nothing out of ordinary. You took notes of the things the professor said, then quietly packed your things to leave. You were placing the headphones in your ears when your eyes landed on a figure standing a few feet away from you, your steps halted and there he was, Jay. He was leaning against a pillar, nodding his head at the person talking with him, one hand raking through his already messy hair. His other hand was holding onto the strap of his guitar case. 

You watched him from the entrance of your class, occasionally sliding your finger on your phone screen to appear busy as you stole glances at him. Your eyes blinked a few times, not really believing the sight in front of you. He barely spoke, just nodded along the conversation with a blank expression on. He hadn't changed much, except he was now taller, his features more sharp, and more mature than you last remember. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, maybe it was because you saw him after so many years or maybe because he hadn't left your mind even once since you had a talk with him at that high school party. 

He reminded you of the past version of yourself which you haven't really forgotten. A small crowd gathered around him, he sighed heavily. His eyes scanned around the area, you hid yourself behind the door of your class. You peeked from your place, your breath caught. He didn't notice you, of course he didn't. He excused himself as he started walking towards the opposite direction, the crowd following close behind him and that's when it hit you, how far both of your lives had drifted. There he was, in the spotlight, surrounded by people who admired him while you stood behind the class doors, in the shadows, wondering, watching.

"Where are you?" Ava's voice rang through your headphones as you ordered your coffee from a local coffee shop. You paid the cashier and thanked him as you made your way out of the shop, "at the coffee shop, I'm going out for a bit." You could imagine her pouting on the other side of the phone, her voice whiny, "why are you going out alone? I would have loved to accompany you, don't forget you have me by your side okay?" You pursed your lips as you nodded at her words then realizing she couldn't possibly see you, "I know Ava, but I can't always depend on you right?" She opened her mouth to protest, "you can depend on me, I'm your only friend." You frowned but didn't disagree with her, it was true that she was your only friend, she has been the only one who saw you and has been by your side since the university started and you're glad that she stood beside you and helped you. 

"I'll make it up to you okay?" She squealed at your remark, hanging up the phone before informing you about her nail appointment, your eyes unconsciously fell on your own hands, maybe you could get a manicure too. High school was hard after your breakup, with no one by your side but you got through it alone. Now, as you were older and wiser than your high school self, you started to enjoy your own company too. You sipped your coffee as you walked down the street, your feet leading you nowhere in particular when your eyes landed on the familiar mop of hair down the street. You stopped in your tracks, closing your eyes, you shook your head, when you opened your eyes there was no one in sight. You sighed, you're starting to hallucinate about Jay now, it wasn't good for your heart.

You continued your way down the street, ears picking up angry voices across the alleyway. You looked at your surroundings, not many people walk around nowadays. You told yourself you were just stretching your legs, but truthfully curiosity took the best of your senses and guided you across the alleyway where the voices became more clearer as you walked closer. You stood in the corner, your eyes squinting behind your glasses to take a closer look. "I want you to focus on your academics too, Jay. We don't want your silly little hobby to come in the way of your career." Your brows furrowed when your heart a high pitch feminine voice and a name so familiar you could write in your sleep. 

You crane your head to get a glimpse of the scene. There stood Jay, his head hung low as he avoided the eyes of two older people, presumably his mom and dad as they lectured him in front of their car. "Your music is taking up more of your time than your academics, don't forget you're going to be the hire of our business, the sooner you realize this the better it will be for you." Your heart sank as they went on and on about Jay's choices and how disappointed they are at him. Your eyes followed his parent's car as it left, then trailed towards the boy who now was crouched down on the road. He took a few rocks from the ground and threw them across the road, his face visibly contoured with hurt and anger. 

You took a step forward before deciding against it. You were eavesdropping, which you were sure wasn't welcomed with the scenario that unfolded right in front of your eyes, but watching him slump against the concrete wall, head between his hands, you wanted to comfort him, just like how he did when you were at your lowest. You wanted to help him, encourage him to not give up on his love for music just to satisfy his parents but with the image he had built around himself in the campus, it was impossible for you to just randomly show up to him to console. He would kill you with his stare before you even opened your mouth, so you decided to stay in the shadows and help him with his issues. By being a secret admirer, the book girlie inside of you was dancing in excitement.

Early morning in the campus was just how you imagined it would be, it carried a quiet kind of hush which felt too sacred to disturb. The sun had began to rise not long ago, casting long golden rays across the campus building, few of the students were scattered around the campus, you walked through the hallway which was nearly empty save for some lone students with headphones on or a book in hand, your footsteps were light but quick as you occasionally turned around to check in your surrounding. Your hands tightly clutched around your bag as you overworked your brain to map out the locker room in the building. You relaxed when you found the large 'Locker room' sign hung upon the metal rod, your eyes scanning the area nearby before entering inside. 

Few of the students were busy with their own things inside the room, none of them paying attention towards you. Your eyes scanned the area, feet moving towards the locker you were determined to find, you causally scanned the names on the lockers, totally nonchalant if anyone asked you. Your steps came to a halt when you came across the 'Park Jongseong' locker. Peeking your head at the entrance to check anyone's presence one last time, you hurriedly took out the letter you had neatly packed inside an envelope and slid it inside the locker from the small gap that was present. Your hands trembled, heartbeat erratic as you stepped away and started walking towards the cafeteria, your head hung low as you zipped your bag. 

You saw Jay pass by you with one of his band members, Heeseung, the vocalist as both of them animatedly chatted about something. Your eyes followed his features, he seemed to be far more relaxed as he laughed at something Heeseung said, that laugh almost reminded you of the night of the party. You wondered what they were doing in the campus early in the morning when your eyes landed on the new notice on the notice board along with various other banners which decorated the walls of the hallway. You stepped closer to have a clearer view of the notice displayed, Symphoria 25, the widely known college fest of your university. 

Your eyes went back to Jay and Heeseung who were now entering the locker room, their backs turned towards you. Symphoria, you'd heard a lot about the college fest, it draws in thousands of people not just from the campus but from the city and beyond. A perfect opportunity to showcase your talent and get exposure. Maybe Jay and his band had started early morning practice to perfect their art for the fest, it was inevitable that they would participate in the fest. You checked the time on your phone, you still had a good 20 minutes before your class started so you made your way back towards the locker room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jay to see if he got your letter or not. 

The hallway had started filling in with the usual chatter of students, as soon as you were about to enter the locker room you caught Jay coming out of the room and in a reckless way to avoid facing him you turned around to run in the opposite direction. But luck wasn't by your side and your leg slipped and you fell, right in front of Jay, and his friend Heeseung. "Are you okay?" You recognized Heeseung's voice as he extended his hand for you to take. A few of the students gathered to watch the commotion. Your head was hung low, and you prayed the universe to swallow you whole instead of letting you face humiliation. You held Heeseung's hand to stand up, then immediately let go and hid your face with both of your hands. 

Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding your embarrassed self quite endearing, he looked at Jay whose eyes were trained on you, a subtle frown adorning his face, lips pursed together. Jay tilted his head as he watched, you peeked from the gaps in between your fingers, head still down, your eyes caught the sight of your letter in between his fingers, the letter still sealed neatly. "Hey don't be embarrassed, things like this happen every time," you turned towards Heeseung, your hands still on your face as you nodded at his words and bolted out of the place and towards your class. 

Heeseung's eyes followed you till you turned around the corner, confusion etched upon his face like a question scribbled in a language he wasn't proficient in. He turned towards Jay, who was also looking at the direction you just ran to, his expressions blank but with a hint of curiosity behind his eyes. "I guess she was too humiliated to wait and talk, I genuinely thought she did this to have our attention," Heeseung broke the silence, making Jay look towards him. Now one would paint Heeseung as a stuck up individual after what he said, but it wasn't a regular sight for any of their band members to not have girls lining up to have a conversation with them, you'd be the first to avoid them all together. He was genuinely confused with your actions.

Your footsteps echoed off the walls of the hallway in frantic rhythm. Your hair sticking on your face and bag bouncing off your side. You reached towards your classroom door, slowing down just enough to avoid getting slammed on it. You slipped inside and scanned the room for an empty seat. Your chest raised and fell as you sat on an empty seat, you took deep breaths to look composed but the flush of your cheeks and the way your hands gripped the edge of the desk betrayed you. The professor entered the class and began the lecture but your mind drifted off towards the incident that happened back in front of the locker room. You slammed your head on the desk lightly to avoid attention, grimacing about how humiliating the incident was.

"You look tired, did you not get enough sleep?" You glanced towards Ava, who was happily munching her food while her doe eyes stared at you, "Yeah, couldn't sleep." She pouted at your words, shoving your shoulder lightly, "you should take care of yourself more, you worry me so much, you don't have anyone else other than me who takes care of you." You smiled awkwardly at her statement, internally grimacing. Her words are always sweet like honey, the kind that drips with warmth and affection until you realize what comes next, like she's trying to convince you that your light only shines when she's with you. 

Your eyes wandered towards the cafeteria door when students started talking in hushed whispered and gasp, there they stood Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon, the four members of band, HYPHENIX. Ava followed your gaze, vast smile etching on her face, "aren't they just dreamy? You think Sunghoon's single?" Your head turned towards her instinctively as her voice reached your ears, "since when are you interested in them?" You don't remember her gushing about the band before, sure they were pretty popular but Ava was too obsessed with cheer to ever focus on anything else. She just shrugged, not bothering to reply, you frowned, following her line of vision where Jay was seated with his bandmates. 

Your breath hitched when you spotted the familiar looking envelope in Jay's hand, the seal broken off, he had read the letter. Your eyes traced from his hands to his face, watching, observing, like you always do. Jake was talking about something while nudging Jay, Heeseung throwing his back as he laughed and Sunghoon just shook his head, amused by his friends. Jay smiled softly, his eyes still trained on the letter in his hands, playing with its edges gently. You haven't seen him smile like that ever since you saw him, his expressions always so distant and reserved, one would think twice before approaching him. You could tell you weren't the only person to witness it when you heard whispers around you. 

"Wow I never knew he could smile like that!", "so the icy guitarist of HYPHENIX knows how to smile?", "is that a letter in his hand? A love letter maybe?", "didn't think of him as the romantic type." 

You turned your head back towards your food when you felt Jay's gaze travel towards your table, you hid your face by keeping your palm over half of your face. "Oh my Jay's looking towards me," your eyes met Ava's as she exclaimed happily, gathering attention from a few of the students sitting nearby. More whispers started arising after her exclamation cause indeed Park Jay was looking towards your table, at who? You weren't sure. Your mind unconsciously drifted towards the time when you fell down in front of Heeseung and Jay, and you hoped he didn't remember how you looked.

"Yah Jay you keep on looking at the envelope like it will come alive and tell you who sent you this..." You were making your way towards the last class of the day when you heard Jay's name, looking up you saw the music room sign above the closed door. You walked towards the half opened window trying to listen to what they were talking about. From where you were perched up, you could see Jay's side profile, Jake standing in front of him, you could see half of Sunghoon's face and Heeseung's back, all huddled up with their respective instruments in their hands. "I really wanna know who wrote this, I mean their words hit so close, it instantly lifted his mood as soon as he read it," Heeseung followed as others nodded. Your heart skipped a beat, you stepped away from the window. They said he loved your letter, that it instantly lifted his mood. You smiled sheepishly, a new skip in your step as you made your way towards your class. 

Maybe you could continue to support him like this, silently, from afar, without the fear of getting rejected. He would be aware that there's someone who silently has his back, and you wouldn't have to worry about being the center of attention. And that's what you did, you wrote letters for him, every week. Words you couldn't say out loud found a home on paper wrapped in a plain envelope. You poured your admiration, your care, and all the quiet things you felt into the letters. You slipped them into his locker, or tucked between library books you knew he'd borrow, each note was a small piece of your heart, anonymous but sincere. You watched him smile at the words, never knowing they were yours. He would sometimes write back to you, placing his letters inside the library book he last borrowed and when he would come and check the next time, he would smile at its disappearance. He would know you got his letter when you'd mention it in your next one. And somehow, that was enough.

And the campus was big but apparently not big enough to keep your little secret in between you and him. It wasn't the letters that caught everyone's attention, it was him. Jay had always been stoic, guarded, the kind of person who kept people at arm's length, never too close but lately that shifted. He smiled more, his posture relaxed, he didn't shoot anyone with his icy glare for merely talking with him. He lingered longer near his locker, reading something in his hands. His bandmates noticed the recurrence of the letters first then few of his admirers. Questions flooded in their minds, was the guitarist of HYPHENIX finally seeing someone? Who would be the lucky person to capture the heart of someone who never showed interest in dating? And If he was getting interested in someone then who's this mystery person?

And then one afternoon, someone overheard Jay talking with Sunghoon, his voice low as he murmured something along the lines of, "I received yet another letter today, they just know what to say to make my heart skip a bit." Hushed conversations between close friends, fell upon wrong ears and soon enough the campus buzzed with new gossip about this secret admirer of Jay. The talk wasn't about Jay anymore, they were more about what made Jay change, about the anonymous person who poured their heart out on the letters, about how the coldest guy on the campus might have someone who has enough warmth that melts his walls. And how maybe, just maybe, he was starting to care about those letters more. 

With each letter you wrote, your feelings for him kept on getting more intense and with all the gossip surrounding you about your own letters you wondered how Jay would react if he ever found out who was behind those letters. It didn't help that Ava seemed to be getting more interested in Jay's love life than focusing on her cheerleading auditions. You had to constantly hear her gush about this mystery admirer of Jay and how an anonymous person was getting more recognition than she ever could even if she tried her best. "Popularity shouldn't be your goal, being good at what you do should be!" You remember explaining this to her when she kept on complaining about how privileged the popular people are with everything. 

She wasn't wrong entirely, everything around the campus depended upon how good you were with something and ultimately how much audience you bought with it. Maybe she wasn't wrong about not getting into cheerleading yet because she wasn't famous enough to make the cut and not because she was just decent enough for the sport. Ava is attractive, has friends from every block of the campus, yet she somehow always sticks to you. She goes to parties, easily becomes the center of the room but somehow it's not enough, it's never enough. There's always someone who is prettier, more talented, more popular who steals her show and you get her. Perhaps that's the reason you let her guide and lead your university life instead of trying and failing to meet new people who would befriend you. 

For the next few weeks when you walked down your campus, every corner was slowly transformed into a living stage. The air surrounding last-minute rehearsals, buzz of sound checks vibrating against your ear drums, every corner of the university was filled with excitement. Symphoria wasn't just a college fest, it was an emotion, a movement held towards rising artists and their talents. By day the fest was filled with different stalls, and artists showcasing their raw talents to sharpen it for the night show. By the time the night arrives, the main stage would come alive with performances that shake the ground. You were excited to attend the last show of the fest as it was the night HYPHENIX would perform, the most talked about and most awaited performance of the whole fest. 

You made your way towards the locker room early in the morning to place the letter inside for Jay to read before his performance. This time though, you had bought a little bouquet of red roses to cheer him up a little with a note that is addressed to him in case someone else misplaced it. You couldn't open his locker enough to put the flowers inside so you decided to keep it above the locker. You walked out of the locker room before anyone could see you, leaving letters inside his locker had gotten a bit difficult with all the attention from the campus. Yet you woke up extra early to not get caught and cheer Jay up for his performance. 

You made your way towards the library to finish the rest of your assignments, dropping a message to Ava about meeting you in the cafeteria during lunch. You sat down, opening your laptop to get started. The library was relatively empty, not many students were in the mood to study when there's literal fest going on around the campus. You wondered if Jay will even have time to open his locker today, you heard they had been practicing extra hard for this performance. Lunch time rolled around but Ava still didn't reply to your text, you tried calling but no answer so you ate alone. You made your way towards the locker room to check on the flowers and letters, when you reached there was none, it made you smile at the thought that he received it before his performance just how you wanted. 

The evening started off with a blast, you made your way near the left side of the main stage. You look around to find Ava in the crowd and even send a few messages of your location in case she decides to find you. You frowned at her behavior, she was so excited to attend today's show, some of her favorite people were performing, not to forget her constantly ranting about being excited to watch HYPHENIX's performance. They were the last act to perform, everyone from the campus gathered around to watch you with banners in their hands. You crane your head to see if they are coming. 

They walked on the stage, your eyes landed on Jay and suddenly the crowd didn't matter. They got in their position, the noise faded, the lights dimmed around everyone else but them and you stood frozen in your spot, eyes never leaving his silhouettes. Heeseung led up to the mic, the crowd erupted, waves of cheers and reckless energy filled up the air, but your eyes were locked on Jay. Jake, the drummer chimed in and suddenly the world was nothing but sound. Jay's guitar and Sunghoon's keyboard roared to life, drums thundered beneath your feet, and the music hit you like a memory you didn't know you'd been holding onto. It wasn't just some random noise pieced together, it was emotion, pouring from the stage and crashing into you like fire and rain.

You watched them, the way their fingers moved on their instruments, how Heeseung's voice danced a high note, how they closed their eyes like the song was something they felt, not just performed and in that moment, it felt personal like somehow, they were singing straight to you. The lights flashed on the stage, the chorus soared. People around you screamed and swayed, but you stood still, like you were spellbound. It was more than music. It was a moment you didn't want to end and in that moment, nothing existed but the stage, the sound, and the feeling of you falling deeper and deeper for Jay. 

You felt a wave of emotion so overwhelming that tears strung in your eyes, their performance ended and they bid their goodbyes. The crowd cheered, you were sure they would be the talk of campus if not city for a whole year. Jay looked happy as he made his way backstage and before you could think your feet led you towards the back of the stage to catch a glimpse of him, it was one of the important parts of his musical career after all, you could at least muster up the courage to congratulate him. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be bad to introduce yourself into his life as someone he once met at a random high school party. You were about to enter backstage when a volunteer bumped into you, all the papers in his hands flying everywhere. You managed to apologize to him as you helped him with the papers but your eyes were somewhere else, in search of a person you couldn't get a hold of. 

You made your way deeper into the back of the stage, volunteers and performers going on about their works. You located Jake and Sunghoon at the far corner of the stage, Heeseung sitting close beside as they wore brightest smiles and talked with each other about something. You tried finding Jay, your heart beating fast as you tried finding someone who would tell you about his whereabouts. "Uh-hello, do you know where Jay went? The guitarist from HYPHENIX?" The girl randomly pointed towards the exit of the backstage, you thanked her before following the direction she gave. As soon as you were out of the door, the coolness of the night air made you shiver. 

Your footsteps slowed, the moonlight casted a soft glow on your face, yet it was still relatively dark. You took a step forward, then another, then you heard voices, familiar and close. Your steps halted when you caught two silhouettes standing close to each other, then your world stopped. One second they were talking, Jay and Ava, the next second his hands were on her neck, pulling her close. Ava stepped forward, her hands reaching for his shirt to stabilize herself. Your hands didn't drop your phone, but it slipped a little in your grip as your breath stilled. A sharp pain sliced in your chest, the silence of the surroundings more louder than the ringing in your ears. 

It felt like someone pierced their hand in your heart and squeezed it without any care, like your soul has been ripped apart without any warning. You felt the kind of pain that didn't echo, it throbbed in your chest, deep and ugly. You blinked once, twice, then again for good measure, hoping and praying this was just an illusion, a misunderstanding but it wasn't. It was real. Jay and Ava, kissing each other like the world around them didn't exist anymore. You stood there, watching him hold her like he's afraid if she let go she'll disappear. Your eyes landed on the bouquet of red roses in Jay's hand, the one you brought for him, confusion and hurt etched upon your face, unable to comprehend anything.

Neither of them noticed your presence, they didn't see the way your hands trembled and how your lips parted slightly like your body was trying to breathe through the ache in your heart. They didn't see the way your eyes glossed over with a kind of hurt you knew would take years to heal. You took a step back, suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, the distant sound of people leaving the campus, the humid air, the floor beneath your shoes. You turned around, mind still hazy, eyes unfocused, you stepped on an empty water bottle. Then you hear a soft call of your name, you shut your eyes closed as if it would somehow help you disappear from the unwanted moment you tried to avoid. You heard footsteps coming closer and decided you couldn't possibly excuse your way out of this uncomfortable situation so you took a deep breath and turned back around. 

Your eyes landed on Jay before they could even acknowledge Ava, he tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. Ava's voice broke your attention from him, she made her way towards you, her arms enveloping one of yours as she beamed at Jay. "This is my best friend Jay," He smiled in your direction, your heart skipped a bit and Ava continued while looking at you, "I told him the truth, that I wrote those letters for him, I couldn't help myself from confessing to him after today's performance, you are proud of me right? I finally got the love of my life." You never once broke your gaze away from Jay as you listened to Ava go on and on about something which you both know she didn't do. You silently listened to her take the credit for the things you did, Jay's smile was wide as he looked at Ava and just like that you couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth.

"Let me drive you both home, it's too late to go by yourself." You sucked in a breath, your head turned towards Ava who nodded enthusiastically at Jay's suggestion. "I'll manage to go by myself, I don't really live too far," Jay shook his head at your words, "It's my responsibility to take care of my girlfriend's loved ones, wouldn't dream of getting on your bad side." Ava chuckled at Jay's words as she leaned against his arms, his own hands slipping on her shoulder pulling her close. You felt like throwing up, you needed answers. Jay pulled out his phone to inform his band members that he'll be leaving first and joining them later. 

Reluctantly you agreed with Jay after Ava forced you to say yes and now you were seated in the back of Jay's car as you watched him act lovey-dovey with his supposed secret admirer. Ava's home arrived first and Jay got off to kiss her goodbye, you sighed, lending your head on the window wondering how you were supposed to get through with this. Jay entered the car, you were still sitting on the backseat. He eyed you from the rearview, "I think I've seen you before." You looked at Jay when you heard his voice, contemplating on whether to tell him that he did see you before or not, "well, we go to the same campus...." You trailed off softly, not really minding if he could hear your answer or not, your mind was haywire with everything that happened today anyway. 

Jay took one last look at you before shaking his head, chuckling lightly and agreeing with your words. You sent a quick text to Ava about wanting to have a talk with her about the stunt she pulled and she replied she'll tell you tomorrow. You felt the car come to a halt and you straightened up, eyes taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment, you thanked Jay but he stopped you. He got out of the car and towards your door and opened it, "you don't have to do all this, Jay." But you smiled at his sweet gesture regardless and got out of his car. He bid you goodbye and went off as you watched his car retrieve from your apartment's parking lot. 

You couldn't sleep the whole night, mind racing with all sorts of things. The sight of them kissing each other playing in front of your eyes like a mere flashback from a dream you wish you never had, cruelly brought to life. You tossed and turned in your bed, but neither the tears stopped nor did the hollow feeling creeping up your chest. You decided you can't take it anymore, your fingers tapping on Ava's number before you could think. It was late at night, her parents were probably asleep but they always had a soft spot for you. She picked up the phone on the last ring, her voice groggy. 

"What are you trying to do? We both know you didn't write those letters..." you heard some shuffling from her end, "right I didn't, but who cares?" You frowned at her nonchalant answer, "the one who wrote the letter might come forward and expose you Ava, it won't end well for you, did you not hear how Jay is?" She groaned at your words, "well if the person was brave enough they wouldn't have pulled this secret admirer shit, I need Jay to get in the cheer team, this is my chance." You sighed, rubbing your forehead as it had started aching, "your relationship is based on lies Ava, it won't do you good, trust me. You're hurting someone else while trying to reach your goals-" 

"Don't nag at me, I've already taken the leap so there's no going back, I like Jay and I want to be with him so let it go...just for once, for me, let it go please..." you sighed but stayed silent wondering if you were strong enough to watch Jay be with Ava when she clearly was using him just to gain popularity while pretending to be you, Ava continued when she didn't hear anything from your side, "I'm your best friend, I never asked you to do anything for me, please ignore what I did just this once, I'll treat him right I swear." You cut the call after talking to her for some more time, things got messier than they were supposed to be, and you wondered how things will unfold from now on. 

Earlier attending university was something you looked forward to as the constant chattering of students, the latest gossip, the various events and classes helped you ignore how lonely you actually were. But now everywhere you go, there is at least one person talking about the perfect couple Ava and Jay. You tried your best to ignore but you couldn't as Ava started gaining popularity now that Jay won't leave her side whenever he isn't with his bandmates. And you, despite wanting to lay low and finish your degree quietly, were unwillingly dragged into the Ava-Jay love drama since you were her so-called best friend. 

Being best friend of not so famous Ava was hard, but being her best friend after she got famous was harder. People randomly started approaching you to gain latest information about their relationship or how they behave out of the campus. They bombarded you with questions about Ava and what she liked and disliked, like you were some kind of assistant they could get information from. It was annoying, and downright disrespectful. You never wanted the spotlight but even if you did, you knew you wouldn't be happy by being labelled as someone's girlfriend's best friend. It was inconvenient at first, then it became blatantly dehumanizing when people started suggesting Ava to be with someone of her 'level' that you were just some charity case of a friend for her. What hurt you the most was Ava's reactions to those things, she just laughed with them, like she couldn't see how disrespectful people were towards you. So naturally you tried your best to ignore her and her 'well-wishers' all together. 

"Come on, don't be like that! Jay has told me to make sure you'll be present at the celebration party of their successful performance at the college fest, you know how big of a deal it is for him and his friends," you continued typing your essay as Ava sat on the edge of your bed, begging you to attend the party. "I'll see if I can go...I'm not sure though..." she stomped her feet as she made her way towards your desk, hands sliding into yours to get your attention on her, "please? We haven't spent time together since so long," you sighed, releasing her hold from your hand, "it's because you're always so busy with your cheer, or Jay, or your new friends and not because I don't have time for you." 

"It's not like that, you don't like being around people, I can't always cater to your needs right? You should be considerate towards me too, you're so mean," you close your laptop after saving your document and look at her as she begins gathering her things. "I didn't mean it like that Ava-" "I'll give you space, you don't seem to be in a good mood, think about your decision, I'll wait for you at the party and if you won't come I won't go either." You opened your mouth to say something but she was already out of the door. You put your head in your hands as you pulled at your hair, deciding sleeping would be best for now since you had class in early morning. 

Attending early morning class felt like stepping into a world half-asleep. Your brain lagged behind as the professor went on and on about topics you were too tired to pay attention to. One of your hands grip on the coffee cup like your life depends on it and other drawing doodles on the margins of the notebook you had opened to take notes. Your eyes hurt and stifle a yawn, thanking the universe when the professor concludes the class. You check your schedule, there's still a 30 minute gap before your next, maybe you could get a refill of your coffee to go on about your day. You smiled to yourself when you stepped out of the class, feeling accomplished that you managed to survive the morning class as you made your way towards the cafe near your university for your daily dose of coffee. 

"Hey!" You turned around halfway through the campus when you heard someone call out to you, "in a rush?" Jay waved at you as he made his way towards you, his guitar slung over one shoulder, his smile was easy-going as he finally stopped right in front of you. Sweat formed in your hands as you gulped, "you need something from me? I haven't heard from Ava since yesterday so I don't know where she is..." He laughed slightly, motioning you to continue your walk as he stepped beside you, "no, I'm not here to ask you about Ava, though I know I used to do that a lot but I'm here to talk with you about something else." You looked at him then immediately looked forward because how can you be this close to him and act sane? You adjusted your glasses on your face in nervousness. 

"Then what are you here for?" He looked at you, biting his lips in thought and you tore your eyes away to not stare for too long. "For the party...." you halted your steps when you reached the cafe, Jay opened the door and held it for you. You meekly thanked him before entering the cafe, "what about it?" Jay ordered his coffee and you ordered yours, he paid for both the drinks before you could even open your bag to get your purse. "After our performance at Symphoria, we've got quite a few gigs and events to perform at, not to forget it's the day Ava finally confessed to me about writing those letters," you suck in your breath as both of you made your way out of the cafe and back into the university's campus. 

He continued, "those letters have helped me a lot, I was going through a tough time but they helped me so much, and they also inspired us to deliver that performance at the fest. So the success of that performance means a lot to my bandmates, me and Ava alike, and since you're her best friend, I need you to be a part of it." He took a few strides forward and turned towards you making you stop your walk, "please? Attend it for me?" You sighed, attend it for Jay? Now you could do that, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to watch them without losing your sanity. "I'm not a party person, Jay and it doesn't help that Ava has other friends to be with, she won't always be by my side and I don't want to hold her back.." 

He shook his head dismissing your words before you could elaborate further on how pathetic you'd look trying to enjoy the party alone, a party you don't even want to be at, "I'll be by your side then, all throughout the party hm? I'll make sure you won't feel lonely, I promise." He held out his pinky finger in front of you and if you were being honest he looked so silly you wished you could click a picture but you just sighed, eyes switching from his hands to his face, he looked at you expectantly, "I take pinky promises seriously," the corners of your lips twitched a little as you raised your hand to lock your pinky finger with his. He pulled you close, grinning widely, "thank you for coming, Ava and I would love to have you there," he ruffled your hair before jogging off towards the university's music room. 

You faced the mirror, one last time, running your fingers through your hair, you opened your phone, Jay's and Ava's messages lying one above the other, both reminding you to not forget about the party. You fixed your glasses, a hint of irritation seeping in your features as you scanned your reflection, if you ditched your glasses for looks then you won't be able to enjoy the party in HD, but the glasses made you look like the loser you always need to read about in your books. You huffed a breath, reminding yourself about your no more stereotyping rule, your phone started buzzing. You looked at the caller ID, Ava. 

"Hey!" You put your phone away from your ear to recheck the called ID, still Ava, "hello?" You questioned as you chew on your lips, "it's me Jay...Ava's phone was in my hand so I called you from her phone, I asked Sunghoon to pick you up from your apartment and I think he would reach in 10 minutes or so, I just called to inform you that.." you heartbeat quickened after hearing Jay's voice, then you registered the words that left his mouth, "Sunghoon? In 10 minutes? I could've taken a cab, he didn't have to leave the party for me, I feel bad." You could hear the music blasting in the background and you wondered if he could even hear you, "nah, I wanted to come pick you up myself since I invited you but my hands are full right now so I asked Sunghoon, and I don't want you to travel alone in the dark, it's not safe out there. See you soon, Ava and I are waiting for you." 

You stood in front of your apartment building awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for Sunghoon's car to pull up. He didn't take much time, arriving fairly on time. He got out of his seat, his height making you take a few steps back so you don't have to hurt your neck while talking to him. He gave you a smile, his eyes landing on your heel-cladded feet before they locked once again with your eyes. You subconsciously tuck your hair behind your ear, blushing up your cheeks under his intense gaze. He offered you his hand, and you held it after looking at it for two seconds too long. He led you towards the passenger's seat, opened the door and guided you inside the car. You thanked him, a giddy smile plastered on your face as you reminded yourself that this was the supposed bare minimum, but then your thoughts went back to the same high school party where your then boyfriend didn't even look at you, much less open doors for you. 

Sunghoon's car reflected his personality, sleek, dark, and polished to perfection. The smell of leather seats of the car mixed with a faint scent of his cologne, and music turned low enough to barely register. You fasten your seatbelt and watch him start the car from your peripheral vision. He didn't say much, and from the time you've noticed him you realized he wasn't a man for many words but whenever he did speak, the attention would be on him. You let yourself relax on the seat and he glanced at your movements briefly. "Thank you for picking me up, you didn't have to, but thank you regardless," You saw him shake his head at your words, a small, barely visible smile dancing on his lips, "it's fine, wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to travel alone at night." You choked on the air, shocked at his words, he laughed loudly, his fang-like teeth showing just enough to make you question if he was just teasing or being serious. 

"You're teasing me, didn't think of you as a type to do that," He looked at your pouty face briefly before his attention went back onto the road, "you're easier to tease somehow, but I wasn't teasing when I said you're pretty." He didn't look at you to see your reaction, but your eyes were trained on his profile. His skin was pale, smooth like porcelain under the car's light, his lips full and precise, there was a cold grace to him, and even when he said nothing, he seemed to speak in presence, posture poised, expression unreadable, a flick of his gaze enough to silence a room. He got out of the car when he reached Jay's apartment where the party was in full blast, he helped you get out of the car and led you towards the main door of Jay's house.

"This place feels familiar," you mutter under your breath, Sunghoon looks at you, his head tilted in your direction, leaning in slightly to hear you better over the gradually increasing noise of music blasting through the speakers as you walk. You shake your head at him, laughing awkwardly as you try to figure out the weird feeling in your stomach. The door bursts open even before Sunghoon's hand stretches enough to open it for you, and your breath is knocked off as Jay stands in front of you, an easy going smile etched upon his face. "I'm glad you're here..." he smiles so bright that it's almost impossible to not mirror his smile, like he's genuinely glad you're there to celebrate. "I had to be," your eyes wander off towards Sunghoon who is now standing beside Jay, leaning on the doorframe watching you two, "you left me with little choices to make." 

Sunghoon lightly chuckled as those words left your mouth, shaking his lightly at your silent jab at Jay's stubborn behavior he made his way inside the house, leaving you standing alone with Jay. "Where's Ava?" You questioned when you didn't find her waiting for you beside Jay, he sighed, head turning back to look towards the ongoing party, "she must be somewhere, I still have her phone on me, but she's nowhere to be found." You frowned hearing his statement and he quickly made space for you to enter the party, "she gets like that after drinking, she wanders off and suddenly you lose track of her." Jay chuckled at your response still his eyes scanned to room for his girlfriend's presence. 

"Jay?" You softly called him, he hummed in return leaning slightly towards you to hear you better. You held your breath as you looked at him, his eyes still wandering across the room to find Ava but then slowly his eyes turned towards you, your lips twitched when his eyes locked in with yours and you gulped before continuing, "go find her, you don't really have to be by my side all night." Jay chuckled at your words, straightening up, he hooked his index finger on the bracelet of your wrist, "well you don't have anything else to do so please help me find my beloved girlfriend," and he pulled you with him into the crowd. 

You take in the scene, you spot some familiar faces in the crowd, laughing, drinking, talking with each other. Your heels tap against the floor and you walk exactly behind Jay as he makes room for both of you to walk. The lights flicker in bursts of neon, casting an exciting glow on the crowd. The buzz of conversations rise and fall, people too drunk or too indulgent in the mood to care about the surroundings. You catch a glimpse of Jake talking with some people, beside him Sunghoon and Heeseung are involved in deep conversation about something only they know. Your eyes fall upon where Jay's finger is hooked upon your bracelet, a sigh leaves your lips and in a moment of distraction your shoulder bumps into someone and you lose your balance slightly. 

You hold onto Jay's shoulder with one hand to regain your balance and he stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing towards the person you stumbled into, "try to look where you are going next time." The person just waves his hand, mumbling apologies incoherently as he backs off towards the opposite direction. You feel Jay's hand curl around your wrist, firmly and when you lift your head up, he's already looking at you. "You walk in front of me now, you're wearing heels, if you sprain your leg it will hurt like a bitch." You laugh slightly at his tone, his hand pulling you gently towards him and he positions himself right behind you. He's still holding your wrist, his other hand giving your shoulder a slight push to get you walking. 

He's so close behind, you could faintly feel his breath on your shoulder. Your eyes scan for your best friend and you turn around towards Jay when you spot her sitting in a corner with few people, drinking happily and laughing with her whole body, "she's there, I think you should get her, I'll get something to drink for myself in the kitchen." Jay's eyes follow the path your finger is pointed at, he sighed in relief, nodding in your direction and making his way towards her. You don't have the courage to watch him go towards her so you make your way inside the kitchen, your hand tracing the spot which Jay held not too long ago. You poured yourself some soft drink, not really in the mood to drink just yet.

"Are you a baby?" You flinched slightly, turning to your side only to find Sunghoon leaning against the counter not too far from you as he poured himself a drink. Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, he looks at you, slowly making his way close to you, "only babies drink soft drinks." You roll your eyes, free hand fixing your glasses. He chuckled lightly, amused at your behavior. "I'm not a baby Mr. Park," he laughed loudly, "that's exactly what a baby would say, your pouty lips and puffed up cheeks aren't helping your case pretty." You immediately straightened up, lips pursed and face blank as you gave him a deadpan look, "I'm not a baby..." He turned around towards the counter, he mixed a few drinks from the table and slided the red solo up towards you. 

"You don't seem like a type to drink frequently but trust me with this one, my friends say I'm quite good with drinks." You throw him a suspicious look, hand curling around the cup, you bring it closer to your face to inspect. "What are you both ?" Your head snapped towards the voice, Jay and Ava joining you two as Sunghoon settled beside you, his drink already half empty. "I'm trying to get her to loosen up a bit, she's always so tense." Jay's eyes narrow at his friend's words, "you don't have to drink if you don't want to," You shake your head at Jay's words and you're about to reply when Ava cuts you off, "oh my god! I've tried to get her to start drinking but she always declines me," then her eyes fall upon Sunghoon, a faint smirk forming on her lips.

"I literally made this in front of her, will you try it for me pretty? Just a taste, you won't have to continue to drink it if you don't like it." Ava's smile fell as soon as Sunghoon's attention shifted from her to you, his eyes soft as he looked at you expectantly. Jay sighed from where he was standing, his hand sliding across Ava's waist as he leaned his weight slightly on her, "Sunghoon, if she's not comfortable-" Sunghoon's hand reached forward towards your hand, which was sporting the red solo cup, he gently curled his fingers around your hand and brought the cup towards his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you as he took a sip from your cup, "there, I'm alive, now your turn, just a sip pretty." 

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding, fingers trembling slightly under Sunghoon's. You brought the cup near you, eyes darting around the other three before you took a tentative sip from the drink. Your eyes widened, a smirk forming on Sunghoon's face, "it'd good right?" You nodded your head with more enthusiasm than you initially wanted to show. Sunghoon laughed, releasing his hold from your hand, eyes falling upon the couple in front of him with smug confidence, "I told ya I'm good at it." Jay gave you a small smile, "you sure you like it?" You nodded your head again, taking yet another sip from the cup and gulping down the whole drink. Sunghoon whistled slowly, feeling proud of himself. 

Ava looked at you, "you never drink when I offer...you're so rude and mean to me." Jay sighed pulling her closer, "some people need guidance during their first drinks baby, Sunghoon is good at that. It's not about her being mean to you." From where you stood, you could tell Ava wanted this conversation to go like it did with other people, with them agreeing to every word that spilled from her cherry lips, "want me to make you another one?" You tore your eyes away from Ava and turned towards Sunghoon, "please? This is the first time I'm actually enjoying a drink." And just like that, the night stretched ahead, you smiled to yourself, anticipation settling deep inside you for the night. 

"You're tipsy, how many drinks did you have?" You were perched upon the balcony, looking over people who were playing in the pool and around it when Ava's voice cut through the silence. You hummed, standing up and leaning against the railings to have a good look at Jay's house. Your eyes trailed towards the other side of his backyard where people were roaming around, casually. "Is that a gazebo?" You muttered to yourself, leaning in more, squinting your eyes, your glasses slipping off a little. "You're going to fall down if you keep on leaning on the railings like that," you looked down towards the ground, Jay waving off his hand to signal you to back off a little. 

"I won't fall," you yelled back, laughing as you fixed your glasses back. Jay shook his head, one hand on his hips while the other massaged his temple, "come down, bring Ava with you." You pouted at his words but still stepped back, holding Ava's hand in yours, you dragged her towards the pool. "Hello ladies, wanna go for a swim?" You smiled at Jake when he approached you both, you released Ava's hand when Jay stood by her side. "Don't wanna," Ava whined as Jay tried to persuade her to join. You looked away, smiling at Jake as you swayed a little, he chuckled at your dazed out state and offered his hand for you to hold. "I'm good though, I don't need your support, but since you're being so nice and offering me your help, I'll take it." Jake laughed as he guided you towards the edge of the pool.

Heeseung joined you and Jake, offering you water, "you wanna go for a swim?" You denied Heeseung's suggestion, eyes looking at the pool as you pouted, "I can't swim." Jake mimicked your expressions, but he looked like a kicked puppy more than a sulky one. You laughed, stepping forward and pinching his cheeks, "you're cute Jake." His eyes widened at your actions before turning into an icy glare when Heeseung slumped forward trying to control his laughter. Jay, Ava and Sunghoon joined you three as the boys teased Jake and occasionally your non swimmer self. You felt at ease, you were expecting to be crying in your apartment by now but you were glad it wasn't like that. None of Jay's friends left you alone, each sharing some moments with you. And by spending your time with them you realized why they are so likeable.

You were sitting on one of the chairs by the pool, Ava still beside you. The boys were already playing in the pool, your eyes drifted towards Sunghoon and Heeseung who were now seated on the opposite edge of the pool making fun of Jake who was now being chased by Jay for trying to drown him. Sunghoon's eyes locked with yours and his lips moved to say something, in your own haze you couldn't comprehend what he was trying to say so you got up, edging closer towards the pool, "what did you say?" Sunghoon laughed at your confused self and you pouted. He opened his mouth to repeat what he said when you felt a pair of hands press hard against your back. 

Your heart stuttered, feet losing contact with the ground. Your confusion quickly turned into terror and the next thing you knew, your body hit the water. The water was colder than you expected, it swallowed you whole. The noises of the surrounding vanished, replied by a deafening silence. Your hands flailed, legs kicking in panic. Your lungs felt like they were going to collapse, your mouth filled with the taste of chlorine and fear. A pair of arms circled around your waist, pulling your body towards the surface. You gasped as you were finally able to breathe, your chest aching. Someone took off your glasses from your face, your hands grabbing onto the person's shoulder like you were afraid they would let go. 

You felt someone else chiming in to help, pushing you on the edge as few people surrounded you. Your vision slightly blurry as you tried to ground yourself, "Ava are you crazy? Why would you push your own best friend into the pool when you clearly know she can't swim?" You were sure that it was Sunghoon who yelled at Ava for her reckless behavior, your head turned towards your left to see Jay by your side, one of his hands was cradling your head while the other removed hair from your face. You turner your head towards the right where Sunghoon was still going off on Ava, her shoulders slumped as she tried to reason out, "I thought it would be fun-"

"Fun?" Ava's eyes turned towards you, her eyes widening at Jay's sharp tone. He helped you sit up straight, Jake crouching beside you to wrap you in a towel. You shivered, because of the water or Jay's expression, you didn't know. Jay helped you get up and sit down on the chair, your legs trembling slightly. His hand slipped around your waist. "Is this your idea of fun, Ava? She could've gotten into serious trouble if I wasn't swimming near her." You looked at her, wishing to find remorse in her eyes but all you saw was humiliation and anger as she glared at you. She turned around, making her way back into the house.

"I'm so sorry about that, you aren't hurt right?" You shook your head, lips trembling slightly, "I'm fine, just a little shock that's it." Jay nodded at your words, sighing as he took in his surroundings. "You guys go enjoy the party inside, I'll take care of this." He motioned Jake, Heeseung and Sunghoon to lead the crowd back inside. "Take care of yourself, yeah?" Sunghoon requested before going back inside with everyone else. "You aren't responsible for her actions, plus she didn't mean to do it in the wrong way, she's always been like that..." Jay's eyes snapped towards you in lightning speed, "that still doesn't mean what she did was right, you could've gotten seriously hurt." 

You shivered again when the wind passed by you, your head was starting to spin. "I'll bring you some dried clothes, you'll catch fever otherwise," You nodded at his words, your chest and throat aching. Jay lifted your face with his hand on your chin, your breath hitched at the proximity. He slipped on your glasses, adjusting it on your face for you. "Thank you," you mumbled, not daring to say it louder, "I can see you clearly now." Jay laughed, losing his balance on the chair, you extended your hand and he happily grabbed it to balance himself. "I'm glad you can see me now." You laughed with him, amused by everything that unfolded in today's party. 

You were perched on the bench beneath the tree on the university's campus. Scrolling through your phone in search of something to distract you while you wait for your next class to start. You looked up at the tree above you, its green leaves falling upon you inconveniently. You packed your belongings back in your bag, pocketed your phone and remembered you had to borrow some books from the library for research purposes. "You seem to be so at peace after wreaking havoc in my life," you turned towards the source of voice, frowning at the way Ava walked towards you, eyes scrutinizing your presence. "What are you saying?"

"The pool wasn't even that deep, Jay and his friends were swimming in it just fine, why did you have to overreact like that, do you even know how much Jay has been lecturing me about that incident?" Ava huffed as she reached near you, crossing her arms and waiting for your reply as if you were a murderer waiting for your conviction. "They could swim just fine because they knew how to swim, if that's your logic why didn't you jump in the pool? You also don't know how to swim right?" Her expression flattered, hands going on her hips as she scoffed at your words, "you know I care about you, I didn't do it because I wanted to harm you, yet I'm the bad guy here, how would I know you'd end up like that?" 

You rolled your eyes at her words, but the slight pity in your heart for her was overpowering your senses, "why would you even push me there in the first place?" She stomped her leg, pouting at you as if you denied her favorite candy, "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, tell Jay and his friends that you forgave me okay? Bye." You opened your mouth to say something but she was already walking away from you. Finding the boys wasn't very hard considering they spent most of their free time in the music room. You took in a deep breath before you knocked on the door. You pushed open the door, peeking in to see if it was occupied, Jake was the first person your eyes landed on, beside him sat Heeseung, both of them pausing mid-discussion. Sunghoon sat a few feet away, hands on his keyboard and beside him sat Jay, his guitar on his lap.

You stood at the doorway, not exactly sure why you even decided to entertain Ava's idea but you did it, so she won't have another reason to whine at you and also because you wanted to have some reason to be near Jay, even for a while. "Don't stand there looking like a lost puppy, you planning on coming in?" Your internal monologue ended quickly as Heeseung words rang in your ears. You awkwardly shuffled inside, closing the door behind. "Um-" You started, internally criticising yourself for not thinking through before you entered. Your eyes wandered towards the boys sitting in the room, four pairs of eyes, all focused towards you. 

"Come sit here pretty," blush rose upon your cheeks as Sunghoon pointed towards the empty chair beside Jay, you nodded sheepishly, and made yourself comfortable. You were about to start saying something when your eyes landed on them, everyone just went back on doing what they were doing previously like you weren't present there at all, your brows furrowed in confusion and you wondered if you should say what you wanted to say or just slip out of the room. "Guys-" And just like that, everyone's attention was back on you, "yeah?" Jake urged you to continue and you shifted in your seat to turn towards Jay.

"I just wanted to say that the pool incident wasn't that big of a deal, things like that happen when you're trying to play pranks with your friends anyway," you laughed awkwardly, "I don't want you to be upset with Ava because of that." There was a brief moment of silence after you finished what you wanted to say, the silent stretching long enough for you to start rambling again, "she's a very good friend, she has always been by my side when I had no one, she can be a bit childish at times but she's sweet at heart-" "Are you trying to tell that to us or yourself pretty?" 

"You, ofcourse." You answered quickly, but fidgeting with your hands was a dead giveaway of your real feelings. Jay put his guitar at his side, sighing once before turning to look at you, "did Ava ask you to do this?" You shook your head no, one hand raising to fix your glasses in place. "I saw you talking with her-" "Oh my God, you did?" "I was lying but you busted your own lie with this one." Your shoulders slumped in defeat, "okay maybe I did come to you because she told me but I was about to do that regardless." You blinked at them, smiling and waiting for them to say something, "you wounded me, we thought you wanted to hangout with us." Your eyes widened at Jake's words, "why would I want to hang out with you guys?"

Heeseung's hand clutched his heart, slouching forward as if it physically pained him to hear that sentence leave your mouth, Jake's hands flew on his mouth, Jay had an amused grin on his face and Sunghoon just smirked, "I'm sorry we aren't cool enough for you to hangout with us pretty.." he laughed watching color drain off your face. "No, it's not like that- I mean- wait you guys- you're twisting the plot, I'm not Regina George!" You sulked slightly, crossing your arms as you watched them topple over laughing at your panicked state, "I just wanted to say that I did not think you guys would want to hang out, since you know...we aren't close, I'm just Ava's best friend."

"You could be my best friend if you want," Jake smiled, throwing an exaggerated wink in your direction, you laugh as he threw his finger hearts. "Seriously though, you're not just Ava's best friend, you're fun on your own okay? Why wouldn't we want to hang out with you, we literally let you in the music room without further interrogating you!" A genuine smile tugged at your face at Heeseung's words, which stretched into a full blown grin when the others nodded their heads in agreement. "And what Ava did was wrong, and she should have apologized to you then and there but she didn't, which was again, very wrong of her." You couldn't bring yourself to deny Sunghoon's words.

Your eyes fell upon Jay who was silent all through this portion of conversation, he sat still, eyes unfocused as he stared ahead, his brows furrowed. You could tell he was listening but had his mind somewhere else, "Jay?" Your soft voice brought him back from his thoughts, he looked into your eyes, "Let's just move past this, guys..." and no one could bring themselves to debate with you further. "It's my birthday in two weeks, we're planning a trip, I was hoping you'll join us.." You pointed your index finger towards yourself, as if anyone inviting you for their birthday was something you had only thought of in your luxury dreams list, Sunghoon gave you a deadpan look, "who else?" Yeah that gave you the answer you were looking for. 

The trip to Jay's birthday arrived more quickly than you could decipher. Jake informed you that the trip was more like a staycation on Jay's vacation home, from the moment you arrived at Jay's vacation home you knew you've stepped into something exquisite. The gated driveway winds through lush green gardens until the villa reveals itself, the sleek architecture, coastal elegance and everything about it screams luxury. As Jay pushed open the grand double doors, you're greeted by high vaulted ceilings, polished marble floors, and floor-to-ceiling glass panels that blur the line between indoors and the shimmering ocean beyond, you could hear Ava gasp from where she was standing beside you, Heeseung just chuckled, nudging you to go forward. 

The scent of the ocean lingered in the air, and Jay informed everyone about their sleeping arrangements. "Everyone gets their own room?" Jake chuckled at your bewildered, stepping closer to help you put the luggage in your room. You made your way through the open-living room plan towards the first floor where your room would be. You, Heeseung and Sunghoon would be sleeping on the first floor whilst Jake, Jay and Ava would be on the ground floor. When everyone was done checking out the interior, your footsteps took you towards the exterior of the house, where the real magic lied. 

A pathway of natural stone leads directly to the secluded beach. The sand is soft, untouched and the water crystal clear. There was not a single soul in sight, only the rhythmic lull of waves and the occasional cry of a distant seagull. "Wow, baby! This is literal heaven," your eyes wandered towards Ava who was now clinging onto Jay's arms like he would disappear if she let go. He smiled back at her, ruffling her hair as he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. You looked away, towards the beach where waves crashed into the shore in a gentle kiss. Your chest tightened, a small frown appearing on your face unintentionally. "You good pretty?" Sunghoon nudged your shoulders with his, his gaze trained towards the serene beauty in front of his eyes. "Yes I am-" "Let's see the beach from up front," before you could reply to Sunghoon you felt yourself getting dragged towards the beach by Ava, Jay shouting behind you to be careful. You looked back, Sunghoon giving you an amused look before retreating his steps back into the villa. 

Jake called you back after sometime, deciding that since it was already late, everyone could eat the dinner and sleep away the exhaustion to properly enjoy tomorrow. Everyone wordlessly agreed, too tired to explore further. Everyone bid their goodbye. You went into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water before you went back into your room, your footsteps light. You poured yourself some water, taking a water bottle with you since you felt too lazy to get out of your room again. You slowly made your way towards the staircase leading towards the first floor when you heard light giggles. Your head turned towards the voices instinctively. 

Jay had Ava backed up against the wall in between their rooms, their limbs tangled together with a quiet urgency. Jay kissed her like he was falling, fast and fearless and she kissed him back like she knew how to catch, but never intended to. Jay's hand moved from her waist to the door handle, opening it and backing Ava into her room. The door clicked shut behind them, and you still stood there, watching, like you always did. You gripped the bottle tightly, heart heavy and hollow at the same time. You made your way inside your room before your tear could manage to escape. The door clicked shut behind you with more force than you intended but you didn't care, not at this moment when the world around you felt like it was caving in. 

"Someone help me with the drinks!" You yelled out to no one in particular as you watched everyone just beeline towards the beach. You put your hand above your head, eyes squinting at the sun. You internally thanked yourself for opting to wear lenses instead, beach and glasses would be a disastrous combination, "let me help you.." You turned towards Jay who slowly made his way towards you. He smiled, taking the box of drinks from your hand and signalling his head towards the lighter box instead. "I would've asked the boys to help with these, you didn't have to help with this." You shook your head, adjusting the box in your hands, "no worries, but if I collapsed right now, tell my parents I died a hero."

Jay's eyebrows rose at your remark, a slight smirk gracing upon his face, "by carrying a box of drinks? How noble. I would crave 'Gone too soon- by a box of Cola' on your tombstone." You huffed a breath, "are you sure we are not hazed? Why does this feel like a punishment?" Jay grinned clearly enjoying your suffering, "I think they went in first to avoid this exact trouble, we were set up." You just shook your head at his words, setting the boxes near each other, Jay ruffled your hair, then Ava called his name and he waved at you before running towards her.

The sun is warm against your skin as you step into the soft sand, the ocean glittering ahead. Around you the world felt lazy and dripped in golden hue but you couldn't shake away the heaviness of your heart. Jake and Sunghoon were already waist-deep in the ocean, calling out the rest of you to join them. Heeseung reclined on a lounge chair, under a fluttering umbrella. Oversized sunglasses perched upon his face as he smirked at the boys playing in the water. Your eyes travelled towards Jay and Ava, who sat a few feet away from you on a shared blanket, their silhouettes framed by the glow of the sun. Ava leaned into him, laughing at something he whispered in her ears. 

You knew it was better to look away, that ignorance was the only choice you had in this situation, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that. But your eyes stayed fixed on the way his fingers gently brush a strand of her hair away from her face, and how she leaned her head on his shoulder like she belonged there and maybe she does. You watched as Jay lay down on his stomach, and Ava on her back, his eyes closed as his hand circled around her waist. You wished you could just walk up to him, sitting beside him as your fingers traced your name on his back, not to claim or to mark but to belong, even just for a fleeting moment. But you don't move, you just watch as she calls his name when he runs off towards the boys to play in the water. 

"You aren't getting spared just because you are busy daydreaming in your own world, pretty." You screamed as you felt Sunghoon pick you up bridal style and run towards the beach as he spoke. "Yah, you know I can't swim." You tried kicking your legs to get him to put you down but there was no real fight in your attacks, "I know, that's why I'll be near you when you play! Trust me pretty." And with that Sunghoon jumped into the water with his still in his arms. Jake and Heeseung joined you two and helped you with splashing water on Sunghoon's face. 

"You're doing good pretty, just hold onto me tight." Your hands were on Sunghoon's shoulder while he had his on your waist as he guided you deeper into the ocean. You shrieked when you couldn't feel anything beneath your feet and his hold tightened around you, his arms now circling around your waist as he pulled you close. Jay watched both of you pinch Sunghoon's ears for his clumsy actions, something twisted low in his stomach and he couldn't explain why watching you both play together made his fingers tighten around Ava's waist. "Jay, it hurts." His attention went back to his girlfriend who looked at him with a questioning gaze, he shook his head, his fingers soothing the skin on her waist as a silent apology. 

"Alright, it's enough for the day, let's get back to have dinner." Your head turned towards Heeseung's voice, you walked up to him, others following close behind. "Had your fun?" He asked, one of his eyebrows arching as he spoke, you nodded your head as both of you fell into a casual conversation. "Okay how about we split the chores?" Ava groaned as Sunghoon's suggestion, clearly displeased. She leaned her weight on Jay, blinking up at him as she pouted, "I'm too tired to help..." Sunghoon scoffed unintentionally and Jake's coughed in his elbow to mask his laughter. "You just laid there on the beach and did nothing but you're tired?" Jay threw a glance at Sunghoon, clearly intending to make him shut up, then he looked at you, his eyes soft, "both of you go rest, we will call when everything's ready okay?"

Ava lit up, reaching up to kiss his cheek she ran inside the house and into her room, without a single glance towards the mess everyone was left with. You heard Jake sigh softly beside you, looking at the mess, hands on his hips. You stepped closer, bumping your hips with his, "how about Jay and Heeseung take care of cooking, Sunghoon can take care of collecting the empty drink bottles and both of us will clear the garbage?" He grinned at you, clearly pleased with your suggestion when Jay's voice cut through the air, "we will handle it, you should go and rest, you helped earlier too." You shook your head at his words, "I want to help, so please let me, and the more people are helping the sooner this will be over." You smiled as you pushed Jake towards the cleaning supplements to get started. 

"Wow this took longer than we thought," you straightened your back, nodding your head at Jake's complaints. The sun had set and the moonlight casted a soft glow on the ocean. The streetlights were turned on and everything looked straight out of a movie. "We're done with dinner!" You looked at Jake who mirrored your smile, "first one to reach the kitchen is the loser!" You said as you ran towards the kitchen, Jake followed close behind as he complained about you getting a headstart. You laughed when he reached the kitchen first, giving Heeseung a jumpscare when he bumped into him. You laughed at his proud face, enjoying yourself more than you thought when Jay's voice cut in, "Ava's still sleeping, I'll bring her dinner later, let's get fresh and then we will eat."

Dinner was spent with Sunghoon and Jay's bickering while Heeseung just laughed at his friend's banter. Laughter echoed over clinking cutlery, voices overlapping and plates passing with casual affection. "I literally said the first person to reach the kitchen is the loser." Sunghoon laughed loudly at Jake's bewildered face, his eyes round and big as he looked at you, "you're so mean.." You reached out and ruffled his head, cooing at his whiny self, "your fault for not listening properly." He slumped against the chair, giving you faux glasses as other's made fun of him. 

"We're sleeping early?" Jay questioned when everyone started complaining about being tired, a gentle frown etching on his face as he looked at you all. Sunghoon nodded his head, "Ava hasn't eaten since afternoon, so feed your girl, we will sleep too now, all the cleaning is finally creeping up on me." Heeseung, Jake and you religiously nodded, making Jay sigh as he prepared a plate for Ava and made his way into her room. "Let's get the cake and other things ready, I believe he will be occupied enough till we get things done," Heeseung whispered as soon as the door clicked shut behind Jay and everyone started preparing for the birthday boy's surprise. 

"Okay, I believe we are ready, are we ready?" Jake whispered, box of cake in his hands, beside him stood Heeseung and Sunghoon who had party poppers in their hands. You were given the responsibility to record the moment. You focused the camera on the cake, then slowly backing away to capture all three of them in a single shot. You softly giggled looking at them, a big grin plastered on your face as you recorded them. All four of you were wearing birthday hats, and you couldn't help but coo at how cute the three boys looked. In one of your hands were two birthday hats, one of them extra large since it was meant for Jay. You looked at the timing, signalling them it was time for all of you to huddle outside Ava's room. 

You knocked on the door, waiting patiently for Jay to open it. You wondered if giving Jay a surprise while Ava wasn't involved in it was a good idea or not but the plan to surprise was spontaneous, the one which you made while you were cleaning, later Sunghoon informed Heeseung about it when he found him alone. Ava never got out of her room, so you figured it wasn't anyone's fault she wasn't involved. Your heart drummed against your ribs, mind swirling with thoughts that if you catch them in their intimate moments, you couldn't bring yourself to handle that scene again. But all your thoughts flew out of your mind when the door swung open and Jay emerged from the door looking confused. 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONGSEONG!!!" All four of you screamed, confetti flying everywhere as Jay laughed, completely amused at the little surprise his friends pulled. Sunghoon took the large hat from your hand and placed it neatly on Jay's head. Ava emerged from the room, her hair messy and she was barely awake. You passed the phone to Heeseung and placed one hat on her head. Jay cut the cake, and the rest of the night was filled with questions from Jay about the surprise and what all went down while preparing. Heeseung apologized to Ava for excluding her from the surprise as he explained how the plan was spontaneous and no one got any opportunity to approach her. She smiled at him as she waved his concern off, but when the little party was almost over you could feel her mood getting sour as she looked at you. 

You got comfortable on the bed, sighing in relief as your body relaxed. You turned to your side, pulling the blanket closer, you slipped into sleep the moment you closed your eyes, body too drained to resist it. For a while everything around you stilled, the noise, the thoughts, even the time. But after few hours, something stirred, and your eyes blinked open, heart and mind racing. You're half-awake, half-dazed, your body begging you to just go back to sleep. You tried going back to sleep, but it was too late to go back to how it felt before. You got off from the bed and made your way downstairs, maybe Some fresh air would help you with the sleep. 

You stepped out of the villa, the air around you lighter and cooler. You made your way towards the narrow stone path, leading you towards the quiet overlook by the cliffside, where the ocean stretches endlessly below. The sky opened with each step you took, you breathe in the air, the wind gently caressing your body. "What are you doing here this late?" You jumped slightly, heart skipping before your mind caught up but you didn't move. Jay stepped beside you, leaning against the railings of the overlook, his eyes trained on your face as you looked ahead. "Couldn't sleep," you whispered, not wanting to break the serenity of the moment. 

"Something's on your mind?" You finally looked at him, his shirt was slightly crumpled, hair disheveled, his fingers twitched once before he clasped his hands together in stillness, his gaze was hard even though he looked composed from the outside, "you're angry, what happened?" The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up and your lips trembled as he locked his eyes with you. "I'm not angry," he stuttered lightly, clearing his throat and you looked away, biting your lips. "It's Ava right? Wanna talk about it?" He sighed, looking up towards the sky then back at you, contemplating whether he should talk to you about it or not.

"She got angry at me since she couldn't wish me at sharp 12..." You eyes widened at his words, disbelief gracing your face at the sheer absurdity of the situation, he looked at you, sitting down and motioning you to join him, and when you did, he continued, "I was so shock, she was in a sour mood, she wasn't even looking at me when I tried to approach her so I asked her till she told me why she was acting that way," you silently listened to him, feeling bad that he got into such situation on his birthday, "she has always been like that, there was a time when I didn't pick up her call at 12 AM sharp on my birthday cause I slept and she didn't talk to me whole day," you chuckled lightly. 

"Is laughing your type of coping mechanism? Considering she's your only friend, and she didn't talk with you on your birthday, doesn't that make her a bad friend?" His questions caught you off guard and you coughed to reduce the awkward tension it rose in the air. "She'll come around, Jay." He looked at you like he was trying to search for some answers he knew you wouldn't verbally give him, "can I share something with you?" His voice was soft as he asked you that and you nodded your head, not finding the courage in you to decline his request. "You're the only person I'm sharing this with, I know you're her best friend so you should probably be the last person I'm saying this to, but from the time I've known you, I know there's no one better than you who would understand me...."

You nodded your head at him to continue, he looked around, his shoulders slumping slightly, "I feel like the Ava in front of me is so different from the girl who used to send me letters..." your stomach dropped at his words, you didn't say anything, you kept your face still but your inside twisted but still you forced a hesitant nod, "like she's very sweet, but the kind of person I imagined her to be, the kind of person I fell for is so different from the reality. We have our sweet moments but they don't feel real to me," he played with his fingers, head hung low, "whenever I try to talk to her about the letters she diverts the topic by saying what matters is the present, her letters always used to see through me, I felt seen in those letter, I didn't even have to say anything but her letters told me they understood regardless, but it isn't the same anymore, it feel so unreal."

"Jay," you sighed wondering what words would even bring peace to his heart, you wanted to tell him the truth, that it was you who wrote those letters and not Ava, but you couldn't bring yourself to confess that. "You're her best friend but I keep on complaining about her behavior to you, don't snitch on me," he pointed a finger at you, "please?" You laughed at his actions, "I won't tell her about this, I promise." He looked at you, eyes squinting as if he didn't believe in your words, "pinky promise?" You stretched your pinky finger towards him and his eyes lit up as he hooked his pinky finger with you. 

Jay looked at the ocean in front of him, "relationships are more complicated than I thought they would be." You nudge your shoulders with him to cheer him up a bit, "tell me about it..." you rolled your eyes, standing up and extending your hand to him, the sun would start to rise after sometime and it would be better if you head back so you'd have enough energy to travel back home tomorrow. He held your hand to pull himself up, dusting his pants a bit. Both of you just walked back in without any conversation, the silence more comfortable in between you. "Let's grab something to drink before we go to bed," you nodded, letting yourself be a little bit more selfish for wanting to spend time with him.

The light of the refrigerator drapes a soft glow on his face, highlighting the curve of his sharp jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, his messy hair which somehow still looks perfect to you. And he looks calm, thoughtful even like your heart isn't shattering into pieces right beside him. You took a few steps back, leaning against the counter, pretending to look at something on your phone but your eyes are trained on him. On the way his brows squint slightly to decide which drink to choose, the way he quietly mumbles to himself as if he belongs to a place which is softer, quieter. And you love him. God, you love him. 

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, try to tear your eyes from his frame, to have some mercy on your heart. You wish you didn't feel this way, wished you never wrote those letters and kept your love hidden deep in your heart. You wished he would just turn around and look at you like you aren't just his girlfriend's best friend but someone who was actually meant to be his. And he turns around and looks at you, flashing you a quick smile, and it shatters you because it's the kind of smile he gives to everyone, and not the one you're dying to get, the kind he has reserved only for Ava. But you smile back, you pretend like you're not falling apart under refrigerator light for a boy who has no idea what he has gotten himself into. 

He makes his way towards you, now handing you a soft drink and leaning right beside you. He takes a sip, humming lightly as if he hasn't tasted the same drink countless times today. "So," he started, putting the drink on the counter and turning towards you, "did you break up with your boyfriend?" You choked on the drink at his random question before calming yourself, "what boyfriend?" You tilted your head as you waited for him to answer, he just shrugged, "the one who humiliated you in my birthday party some years ago in high school." Your jaw dropped before you could stop it, "you remember that? And it was your birthday party?" 

He nodded his head, finding your reaction amusing, "I was wondering when you'd say something about it but you didn't." You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again when you couldn't find the words, "so did you break up with him?" You nodded your head at him, "yeah, just after I reached home, I broke up with him and never looked back. I realized it after so long that deep down I knew he wasn't treating me right, I just wanted someone else to remind me of that and you did." His eyebrows arched at your words, his lips twitching into a smile, "guess you owe me a big one then," You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder a bit, "in your dreams Jay."

He laughed at your words, now taking both of your drinks and throwing it in the bin, "I'm glad that I met you, I don't think I'd be here if I didn't meet you that day." He smiled softly at your words, turning towards you, he stepped closer, "I'm glad you're here too, I feel so relaxed right now, it's amusing really..." you tilt your head at him, "what's so amusing?" His eyes went back and forth from your face then to the ground a couple of times, wondering if he should say what he wanted to, "hm? Jay?" He sighed, clearing his throat a little bit, "this," he said, waving his hands in between you two, "what's this?" You chuckled, finding his hesitation endearing. "This thing in between us, it feels," you stepped closer, nodding your head at him to continue, "it feels what Jay?" "Real. It feels real." 

"Pretty I feel like Jay's birthday this year is going to be very eventful," you and Sunghoon were sitting on the kitchen island, eating fruits, Ava insisted Jay to spend some alone time with her before you go back home so they were out, Heeseung and Jake were still sleeping. "Why's that?" You questioned as you took a bite of watermelon. "Jay said Ava was upset we didn't involve her in the surprise, which doesn't make sense cause Heeseung apologized for it and gave her genuine reason, right?" You nodded and he continued, "but I believe they got into an argument or something, Jay's been tense but he said that Ava wanted to throw a surprise for him too, all alone, and he agreed because he said it would make her happy."

You hummed in response, knowing well that Ava has a habit of bringing attention towards her in any situation, so it was inevitable that she would ask Jay to do something like that. Surprise for Jay sounded good too, they had been dating for months so she must've had something in her mind. "Let her have her moment, despite the reasons we could've texted her or something but we managed within ourselves so let her show her love towards him the way she wants." Sunghoon nodded, silently agreeing with you as he ate the apple, "I hope everything will go well, she didn't even ask any of us for help," you sighed at his words, praying everything would go well. 

Now you're dressing up for the surprise Ava had planned for Jay, she called everyone to the living room when both of them returned from their little outing and informed everyone to dress up nicely after you reached back home and meet in her parent's house since they were out on a business trip, he seemed quite excited about it. You hoped it would live up to his expectations and not end in yet another argument. You sighed watching yourself in the mirror, one hand holding the glasses while the other the lenses. You put the glasses down deciding lenses would be a great option if Ava or for that matter anyone else thought about pushing you into the pool again, you'd at least be able to see your downfall clearly. 

You asked Ava if she needed your help and she just shrugged, declining your offer and throwing a snarky comment at you, something along the lines of, "wouldn't want anyone else to take credit for what I am going to do for him." And you just hummed, not wanting to trigger her more by reminding her that of course she'd fear someone else taking credit given that she has done the same to date Jay. Those words sounded very rich coming from her, the hypocrisy was astonishing. You texted Sunghoon the address of Ava's parent's house and asked him to forward it to the other boys. 

Your eyes fell upon the clock, and you grabbed your things, booking a cab and texting Sunghoon that you'd reach the house in 20 minutes. He texted a thumbs up emoji, informing you that they would arrive at the house around that time too. You leaned against the car seat, watching the other vehicles pass by you in a rushed blur. Your heart thumped in your chest for some reason and you took a few deep breaths to calm the nerves down. It was inevitable you'd feel anxious, it's all you had been feeling ever since Ava started dating Jay, you were mentally preparing yourself to watch them being all lovey dovey in front of you without having a breakdown yourself. 

You arrive at the house, a small envelope in your hand, the evening sky painted in hues of pink and yellows. When you reached the door of the house, you could hear faint chatter from inside the room. You hesitate, glancing down at the envelope with Jay's name written on it and then back up at the faint lights flashing through the living room's curtains. You frowned, texting Ava about your arrival, you twisted the door open after you got a signal from her and stepped inside. You were still standing near the entrance of the house, the house was pitch dark, but still you could hear some murmurs, more clearer than before. 

The door behind you swung open, the night air brushing your skin as you turned around to find Jay hesitantly step inside, one hand clutching his phone and the other the door. His silhouette was half-hidden in the shadow. Behind him stood Sunghoon, Heeseung and Jake, anticipation etched on their faces. Someone behind you switched on the lights and Jay blinked, first because of the lights and then towards the crowd in front of him. You heard someone gasp from behind you, "Jay is here," and a loud chorus of "SURPRISE" erupted in the previously silence-filled house. Confetti exploded through the poppers, the music volume rising up like inflation. 

Ava's shoulder brushed against yours as she ran towards Jay to hug him, he hugged her back, blinking in confusion. The other three entered the house from the corner, Sunghoon throwing a worried look towards Heeseung who silently hushed him. Jake's eyes locked with yours as he passed by you, then he turned towards his other friends to whisper something. Jay smiled tightly when Ava dragged him towards the mini stage where she kept the cake for him. And his eyes found yours before Ava cupped his cheek to give him a birthday kiss. The music stopped and Ava gathered everyone's attention, "Today's my lovely boyfriend's birthday so first we will cut the cake and then we can continue with the celebration."

Loud cheer erupted at her words, you kept your gift on the corner where everyone else kept theirs and made your way towards the mini stage where others were already present. Ava cheered loudly, a bright smile adorning her face as she took off the cover from the cake, a towering, picture-perfect chocolate cake, glossy with ganache, topped with sparklers and gold-letter candles spelling his name. His smile flattered for a second before he masked it with his politeness. "Ava," he whispered quietly, eyes darting towards the people watching each of his actions in anticipation, "I'm allergic to chocolate." You could see the color drained from Ava's face as she looked around at others. "I ordered a vanilla cake, the bakery may have misplaced my order." She pouted, clinging onto his arms as other people gave her words of sympathy that it's the thought that counts. 

You were sitting on the couch beside Sunghoon, in front of you sat Jay and Ava, the music blasted in your ears, but you could still decipher the conversations going around you. Jay tapped his foot repeatedly against the ground, his shoulders tensed as he took a sip from his cup. "You're repeatedly tapping your foot on the ground, if you wanna dance, you could've just said so, come on, let's dance." You could see Jay froze at her words but didn't really resist when she dragged him towards the dance floor. You watch as Ava laughs, all bright and confident, clearly proud of the party she has thrown. You could see her dress sparkle and sway with her. One of her hands was clasped around Jay's wrist and the other waved the crowd off to make some space for them. 

You could see the way his shoulders sank when he reached the center of the dance floor, the way his eyes were scanning the room, over the crowd as if he was checking the exits. Ava pulled him closed, dancing around him carefree and unbothered. She turned around to face him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, she leans in for a kiss and he obliges, people cheer around them, flashing on camera making you blind. And he laughed when they pulled apart, hands on her waist as she sways. Your heart tugs a little, with sadness or jealousy you aren't really sure, cause you know Jay prefers to spend his birthday around his loved ones, intimately and not amongst the crowd. You know, because he had mentioned about it in one of his letters. 

"You do realize he is not the one you're supposed to be looking at, right?" You jumped at Sunghoon's voice, "huh? What?" He shook his head as he leaned back on the couch, your eyes following his actions, "Jay," he started, taking a look at him briefly before looking at you again, "you aren't supposed to look at your best friend's boyfriend with that intensity in your eyes, what happened to the girl code?" You choked on the air, rubbing the area just above your chest to soothe your breathing. "I'm not staring at him," you glared, clearly caught off guard by his observation, "yeah and I'm Michael Jackson," you rolled your eyes, leaning against the couch, "you're reaching, I was just looking at them dance together," Sunghoon smirked leaning close to your face, "without blinking? Was their dance that admirable?" 

You groaned throwing your head back, you could hear Sunghoon chuckling at your misery from beside you, "this isn't the first time I saw you staring pretty..." you turned your head slowly in his direction, he smiled lightly, eyes full of emotions or was it the effect of alcohol he was drinking? "Hm?" He sighed, resting his head at the back of the couch, mimicking you, "I saw how you look at him, at the music room, at his house during our celebration, at the villa, at the beach, the time when he served you dinner," your gaze was fixed on his face as he went on and on about all the times he had watch you fawn over your best friends boyfriend. You couldn't bring yourself to deny all his observations, not when he wasn't looking for your approval anyway, he had observed you and was just stating what he saw. 

"Your eyes are so predictable, pretty," He said after he didn't get any response from you and saw you looking away. There was not a single bite in his words, he didn't accuse or blame you for being a bad friend. Your eyes met his again, you couldn't find any sharpness, or any judgement, just softness, like he understood where you were coming from without you having to say anything. Your heart swelled with something you didn't quite understand but felt overwhelmed, "are you always this annoying?" Your words were softer than you intended them to be, and he just smirked, putting his hand on your shoulder, "only when I'm onto something." You sighed but didn't resist his embrace, "you're not onto something, Jay's my best friend's boyfriend." His other hand made its way towards yours to play with your bracelet, "he is, that doesn't mean you wish things were different though." You let me play, eyes lingering on the veins of his hands for a second too long, "I didn't say that," "You didn't have to."

"Where did they go?" Your eyes followed Sunghoon's line of vision, "probably in Ava's room to make out or something," you mumbled quietly but he caught that, "you're not going to sit here and sulk," he said grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, "no girl gets to stand beside me and feel like a loser, that shit is reserved only for boys." You wanted to say something but decided against it when you couldn't think of anything smart to say. He dragged you towards the dance floor, his hands circling around your waist, he abruptly pulled you close, your hands grabbing his shoulders in response. "Focus on me tonight, who knows, tomorrow you might forget who Jay is." 

You rolled your eyes at him, hands now comfortably resting around his neck as both of your bodies swayed with the rhythm of music. The night had stretched on, the music settling to something slow and soft. One of his hands slid up to rest against your back, while the other rested snugly on your waist. His actions pulled your body closer to his, from this distance you could count all the moles that were scattered across his face, the curve of his lashes, the point of his nose, and his lips. You gulped, feeling heat rise up in your body at the proximity. You tried looking away but he held you in place with his gaze. You were sure he could hear your heartbeat from how close you were. 

One of his hands lifted, his movements slow and deliberate as he looked at your face for any signs of discomfort, his knuckles grazed your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered close and you leaned into his touch. His breath hitched, taking shallow breaths his hand now cradled your cheek, fully, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. You sighed softly, leaning more into his touch as if leaning felt safer than speaking. You felt him inch closer, your nose barely grazing against his, you could smell him, the faint scent of detergent which lingered on his shirt, his shampoo, and something so achingly Sunghoon. Your breath flattered, syncing with his, for a moment both of you just breathed each other in.

His lips meet yours, softly, no urgency, no rush, like he's taking his time to learn the curve of your lips, a little hesitant, like he was giving you time to back out if you want. It was the kind of kiss that communicated his soft sighs and gasps, one that lingers at the back of your mind even after years. His thumb caressed your cheek, his actions meant less for comforting you and more for anchoring himself and for a moment everything single thought from your mind disappeared. Then his thumb suddenly froze mid-motion, he pulled away slightly, enough to look at your face. "You're crying pretty..." your eyebrows furrowed at his words and you opened your eyes, his thumb caught another tear which fell from your eyes but he didn't press further.

"I'm sorry..." you choked, unable to comprehend the reason behind your tears. You wanted to kiss him, and you did, but you couldn't figure out why the tears started to flow. The hand on your cheek, slid up to the back of your neck and he pulled close. You buried your head at the crook of his neck. "It hurts so bad, hoon." You aren't even sure where it hurts badly, Ava's lie, or watching her living the life you only imagined in your dreams, or the fact that even if Jay knew it was you, it wouldn't have bloomed into something so precious. "Shh, everything will be okay, you don't have to pretend in front of me." His fingers tangled in your hair as he drew soothing circles on your head. You nodded your head, pulling away a little from his embrace and from the corner of your eyes you saw Jay furiously walking down the stairs, his shoulders tense. 

"Sunghoon," you pulled away from him and he brushed the remaining of the tears with both of his hands, "Jay." You pointed your finger towards his figure, he shoved people who came into his path, his steps hurried and faze fixed on the main door of Ava's house, "follow him," Sunghoon nudged you in Jay's direction, your face contoured into confusion, "but shouldn't Ava be going after him?" He ran his hand through his hair as he watched Jay near the door, "something tells me he needs you more than he'll need Ava at this moment." You looked at him for a second, letting his words sink deep inside you, after a while you nodded at his direction and turned around to run towards Jay. 

Sunghoon watched as your hand slipped away from him, the same hand which he had intertwined with yours a few moments back. He watched it all, the way the tip of your finger slid against his one last time, like sand slipping from his palm, the way your lips trembled when you turn away, the urgency in your steps when you try your best to move through the crowd to reach Jay, and his hand tremble beside him. His other hand lifted up to trace the lingering memory of your lips pressing against it. And when he recalled the way your lips moved against his and how he tasted the salty taste of your tear before catching a sight of it, he wondered if that's what heartbreak tastes like. Like a kiss dipped in honey, ruined by the sting of salt you never meant for him to find.

[addictedtohobi]

ENHYPEN MASTERLIST:

• LEE HEESEUNG

(Coming soon...)

• PARK JONGSEONG

| I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND |

SYNOPSIS: A fleeting encounter with Park Jay at a high school party leaves a quiet imprint on your then broken heart. Years later, you find him again, now as an icy guitarist of the campus boy band, HYPHENIX. You never spoke again, but you remembered his eyes, his words, his presence and how he lingered at the back of your mind years after. You wanted to reach for him, but he was so far, popular, untouchable that you decided to pour your heart to him in secret, until the secret was revealed but someone else claimed it before you could.

Or in which you pour your heart into anonymous letters for the cold, distant guitarist, Jay, only to watch your best friend claim every word as her own.

• SIM JAEYUN

| DESIRE: UNLEASH, UNRAVEL, UNMASK |

SYNOPSIS: When you are assigned as a psychiatric nurse in a quiet, unsettling and remote town, you expected lonesome, boredom even, and not the creeping sense that something was wrong. Then you are asked to temporarily monitor Sim Jake, a long term patient, when his regular nurse takes sudden leave. At first he's just another case for you, then you started noticing strange behaviors unfolding within the hospital walls, and now you're not just questioning your patient's mental state, you begin to question what's real, what's hidden and if you're turly safe.

• PARK SUNGHOON

| BE THERE FOR YOU |

SYNOPSIS : You love your two best friends with your whole heart. The three of you have been inseparable since middle school, bound by laughter, secrets, and a promise to always stand by each other through thick and thin. So why does a strange, bitter feeling rises in your stomach every time they laugh a little too loudly together, their eyes meeting in ways that make you feel like the outsider? You try to shake it off. It's nothing. Right?

Or in which you're stuck in a love triangle with your two best friends.

(Fyi: this page is dedicated to writing about ENHA's hyung line only)

[addictedtohobi]

This was so funny and cute!

* ༘𐙚 THE RULE OF FLOWERS ✿˖˚ || 박성훈 x fem!reader || fic

summary: sunghoon thinks he’s about to get an early grave, or finally achieve his inner rebel’s dream of having a brush with the law, all thanks to your darling daughter and ... her “husband”??

genres: tired girl dad!sunghoon x mum!reader, fluff, crack, slice of life, parents!au,

warnings: attempts at humour, pet names, a little skinship (kissing), not much swearing for a change but sunghoon does say the word ass like once (the child is not present dw), silly dad!sunghoon, protective dad!sunghoon, kids taking everything literally, ref. to classic kids media (finding nemo, curious george), the kid doesn't have a name bcs ... deciding names is hard

w.c: 5.5k

[archive]

Sunghoon’s plan for the night was simple. After making your daughter’s lunch for preschool tomorrow, he’d wash the dishes, brew up two nice, warm mugs of tea for himself and his lovely wife, and then kiss his daughter goodnight before binging some ridiculous drama, until you pulled him into the bedroom to go to sleep.

It was the perfect plan to wind down. It was relaxing enough. And he was looking forward to it as he dried his hands of dishwater after placing your daughter’s colourful dinner plate in the drying rack.

But nothing could have prepared him for the scene that would enter the kitchen and adjoined living room.

“Stop running, you little monkey!”

Shrieks of laughter echoed off your quaint apartment walls. Sunghoon had barely sat down before jolting at the sight of his four year old girl, bright eyed with a mischievous grin on her face, running towards him at full speed. You were hot on her heels.

Her fluffy panda bathrobe was wrapped tightly around her, the hood falling back to reveal dark, slightly damp hair.

Sunghoon opened his arms wide and braced, ready to catch the cannonball he had for a kid. “Woah! Hold it,” reaching forward, Sunghoon scooped her up, laughing at the way she shuffled to escape his grasp but ultimately gave up, curling into him. “Now, where do you think you’re going?”

You slowed down, your own hair and hands a little damp from playing the family favourite Finding Nemo game in the bath with your little girl.

The same little girl who was grinning widely at you, safe in the arms of her father. “Mama’s chasing me.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “I can see that.”

“Because it’s bed time,” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “And your Little Miss Monkey book isn’t gonna read itself.”

Your daughter frowned. “Why not?” She asked with genuine seriousness.

“Because it’s not that kind of book, sweets.”

You watched the way you daughter gave her father a glance. “Why not?” She asked again.

Shrugging, Sunghoon tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I guess there aren’t any self reading books at the store.”

You took a few steps froward, a hand out for your child to hold onto. “We can look for one in another book shop sometime, okay? But right now, it’s time for bed.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Appa needs to come too.” She then proceeded to bury her face into Sunghoon’s chest.

All Sunghoon could do was smile at you. His uncontrollable grin had your heart leaping at the sight. Fatherhood had him melting at your daughter’s every request.

He would go to the convenience store during the middle of work just because he thought about his little girl and wanted to buy her favourite pocky. He would mute work calls just to take a few minutes to watch her twirl in the new fairy dress that your mother had bought her. He’d have an almost Superman-adjacent sense of hearing when it came to her small whimpers in the middle of the night, calling out for the two of you amidst a nightmare.

He was playing Superman again, holding your daughter as if she was flying, her bathrobe’s hood as her hero’s cape, doing a full loop of the world (your living room) before heading to her bedroom. As the three of you walked past the kitchen, Sunghoon felt a small hand tug on the material of his shirt’s collar.

Twisting around in her father’s hands, your little girl had her eyes glued on the kitchen island. More specifically the bouquet arrangement that Sunghoon had brought home yesterday. They were placed at the centre, in a lovely glass vase, reflecting little sparkles onto the countertop from the lights.

“Wait, wait.” Your daughter pointed at the flowers. “I want to do flower face time.”

You breathed out a little laugh, the endearing nickname for the act of smelling flowers had stuck with your daughter through the years. She’d watched you bury your nose into the fragrant petals every time Sunghoon handed them to you.

Sunghoon was just as aware of the nickname. Didn’t stop him from pouting in a comically confused manner, though. “You want to video call the flowers?”

Giggles started to bubble out of the kid that was beaming in his arms. “No!”

“Hello? Flowers?” Sunghoon waved a hand at the bouquet, fighting back a grin. “Can you see me?”

You leaned against the kitchen island, laughing behind your hand at the sight before you.

“Appa!”

“What?” Sunghoon’s dimple peeked through as his smile widened. “I thought we were face timing the flowers.”

“I want to smell the flowers.” The sheer power of your daughters eyeroll had you shaking your head in amusement. An all too familiar reaction to Sunghoon’s teasing.

You’d been on the receiving end of his teasing many times. Fighting back smiles as you tried to remain annoyed, and yet were incapable of staying in a dull mood when it came to the man before you.

The same man who was stroking his chin in a dramatic act of realisation. “Ah, right. Of course.” He manoeuvred your daughter so she could lean closer to the bouquet. “Here.”

Smiling, she took a deep inhale and nodded very officially. “Mm, they’re lovely.”

“Just like you?” You asked, poking her cheek lightly.

“Yep.” Her smile widened and just like that, a tiny dimple blossomed, right where your finger was, just moments ago. A perfect mirror to Sunghoon. As he held her closer, their faces smushed together, side by side, all you could see was a mini version of him.

Unbeknownst to you, all Sunghoon saw when he looked at your daughter, was you. Your warmth, your laugh, the way you see brightness in mundanity and appreciate any gesture of kindness or love, no matter how small.

Like the flowers. For as long as you could remember, Sunghoon had been gifting you flowers.

There was never a standard type or a pattern that he followed, he always said that he just entered whatever flower shop was nearby and picked up the prettiest bouquet he saw.

Sometimes it was for a special occasion, sometimes it was just because, and you quickly came to realise that your kitchen island was never bare — there was always a lovely arrangement in the vase. And the minute the old, wilted stems had to be tossed, Sunghoon arrived home that afternoon with a new bouquet in hand.

Every time, he would hand them to you with a smile, one hand behind his back. Like a prince.

You’d hold them closer and breathe in the scent before sighing, and you’d say, “Thank you. They’re lovely.”

And every time, Sunghoon would lean forward, kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, “Just like you.”

“Appa likes flowers.” Your daughter mused to herself as Sunghoon carried her towards her bedroom. You were following behind them, smiling up at your girl.

“Mama likes flowers.” Sunghoon made a point to turn and look at you as he spoke. “Appa likes making Mama happy.”

Humming as a response, your daughter giggled to herself quietly. “My husband likes making me happy too.”

It wasn’t normal to see person freeze mid-step like in a cartoon. But that was exactly what Sunghoon did. In an instant you felt your eyebrows crease together, utter confusion flooding your face. But for Sunghoon? His shoulders tensed, he turned and looked at you with an expression of pure panic and what could only be described as befuddlement.

You cleared your throat. “I- What?”

“Excuse me?” Sunghoon moved his hold on your child, propping her up between the two of you so that you both could see her face.

Ironically, her own face held confusion. She patted Sunghoon’s arm. “You didn’t burp, Appa,” she said, reassuringly.

It was anything but reassuring to Sunghoon. “No, no, what husband?”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” You reached forward, your thumb gently stroking her soft cheek.

“My husband.” She said it so matter-of-factly. Like the very sentence didn’t just drop a bombshell into the middle of your conversation. Instead, she simply blinked at the two of you, “He gives me flowers. Just like you and Appa.”

Sunghoon leaned a little closer to you. “I think I just forgot how to breathe,” he whispered.

“You did not forget how to breathe”

“How do you know, Y/n? I’m imploding.”

Your daughter leaned closer too. “Who’s mimloading?”

“Who‘s your husband?” Sunghoon countered.

“Taesan!” You watched the way Sunghoon mouthed the name, as if committing it to memory. On the other hand, your little girl was still all smiles and excitement. “His flowers are in my backpack. I’ll show you!”

She started to wriggle out of Sunghoon’s hands, excitedly skipping towards her room once he placed her down. All you could do was watch her as she walked past the doorframe before you turned to each other.

“She has a husband?” Sunghoon tried his best to keep his voice low, a hushed yell that could only be heard by you.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples with your hands. “She does not have a husband.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “She said it with way too much confidence.”

“She says everything with way too much confidence. She’s four.”

“What are we gonna do?”

As he started to pace up and down the hallway, you slid in front of him to get his attention. “First step is to take a deep breath and calm down.”

He frowned. “I’m perfectly calm.”

“Two seconds ago you said you forgot how to breathe.”

“Well, five seconds ago our daughter was just our daughter, but now apparently she’s someone’s wife!” He gestured wildly in the direction of her room. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he had a point.

“Things are escalating here, Y/n,” he went on. “We need to keep up.”

“Okay, I get what you’re saying, but—”

Straightening up a little, Sunghoon gave a nod of pure determination. “I need to see the evidence.”

You shut your eyes tiredly. “Evidence? Really- Sunghoon!” You hadn’t even finished the thought before you opened your eyes to see him already walking towards your daughter’s room. So you hurried after him.

“What took so long?” She was sitting near her preschool backpack, one hand grasping a few green stems, some with small purple flowers.

Sunghoon crouched beside her “Sorry honey.”

“What did you wanna show us?” You asked.

She pushed her hand forward, showing off the small garden flowers. “Look!”

“Wow!” You gave her hair a small ruffle while waiting for Sunghoon to react.

“They’re…” He glanced at you hesitantly, but it took only one warning look from you for him to get his act together. “Pretty. They’re really pretty.”

Standing up, your daughter pointed at an empty green stem. “This one was a dandylier.”

“Dandelion.” You corrected her gently.

“Yeah, dandelion. And this one’s a- …I don’t know. But it smells lovely.”

Sunghoon nodded. “And, um, Taesan gave these to you?”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you watched Sunghoon fight every urge to switch from the usual soft expressions he gives his little girl, for a more stoic one. One that would actually fit his mood at that moment.

Your daughter nodded. “Yep. So he’s my husband, right?”

Sunghoon lost his balance and ended up sitting down, turning a little to meet your eyes. “I’m imploding again,” he muttered.

His wide eyed stare, basically begging you to figure out what to do, it was a little adorable. You sat down next to him, cross legged, and reached to pull your daughter closer. “Not everybody who gives you flowers is your husband, kiddo.” You placed her on your lap.

“Oh. Why not?” The genuine confusion in her voice was palpable as she leaned against your collarbone. “I thought that was the rule. “

For the first time since the corridor outside the bedroom, Sunghoon finally cracked a small smile. It was a look of amusement and endearment, wrapped together, as he gently took her small fingers into his larger ones. “I don’t get Mama flowers because there’s a rule,” he explained. “I get her flowers because I want to see her smile.”

Your daughter sat up a little. “If that’s it, then why are you her husband?”

“Oh my god.” You hid your smile behind your hand, stifling back laughter and failing to do it successfully.

“Mama smiles at a lot of people.”

Your eyes creased shut as you looked away, still finding the complete seriousness of your daughter’s tone to be hilarious.

Sunghoon just blinked a few times. The learning curve of parenthood had struck again and in the last few years, as your child picked up words and sentences and opinions properly, you each had been subjected to a lot of harsh truths told in a devastatingly cute voice.

“How do I answer that?” Sunghoon asked you.

You tapped your daughter’s nose, causing her to turn to you. “He’s my husband because we love each other and want to keep loving each other forever.”

“Oh.”

“Appa getting me flowers is like, an added bonus, you get me?”

She started nodding slowly. “I guess. But Appa said he likes making you smile, and Taesan likes making me smile too, I think.”

Sunghoon muttered something incomprehensible under his breath before standing up. “Who is this kid?”

“Sunghoon.” Once again, your eyes shut, a little tired of Sunghoon being so typically Sunghoon.

When you turned to look at him he was at the other end of the room, near a small bookcase. It had numerous bedtime stories, picture books, interactive music books, photo albums. Sunghoon was crouched in front of it, his fingers running across each spine as he tried to look for something.

“You kept her preschool class photos in this room, right?” He asked over his shoulder.

You scoffed in disbelief. Amused and yet equally concerned. “You are not seriously scoping him out right now.”

“I’m just getting an idea of what I’m up against.”

You wanted to laugh. “There is no up against, Sunghoon!”

“I’m just curious, babe.”

“Just like George!” Your daughter smiled over your shoulder.

Sunghoon smirked. “Exactly. I’m just like George.” He gestured to your child with his eyebrows. “She gets me,” he said to you.

“Yeah, I get you, Appa.”

Shaking your head, you held your kid closer and shuffled to her dresser. “Okay, why don’t you and I focus on bedtime.”

She hummed. “Okay.”

Sunghoon seemingly gave up his search and came to join you as you both worked in tandem to get your daughter ready for bed. Sunghoon helped her tiny hands through the sleeve holes of her pyjamas, while you gently brushed her hair. The whole routine feeling like a ritual as she relaxed against you.

You figured it was a perfect moment to talk to your daughter. “I’m sure Taesan likes seeing you smile, love. You have an incredible smile.”

Sunghoon stilled ever so slightly but let you continue, focused on hanging her small panda bathrobe on one of the tiny chairs in the room.

You carefully applied a little night time moisturiser to her cheeks as you spoke. “But you need to understand something; just because someone is nice to you, and gives you flowers, and likes your smile, doesn’t make them your husband. There’s a lot more to it than that. That’s the reason why all the husbands you’ve met are adults. Remember?“

“Oh. Yeah,” she drawled out in realisation. “So Taesan can only be my husband when he’s an adult?”

“Exactly.”

Sunghoon frowned, pouting a little. “Don’t encourage that!” He whisper-yelled at you.

“Oh, what? You think we’re gonna revisit this exact situation in twenty years?”

“We might?”

“And if that happens, I’ll owe you one. How about that?”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I have no doubt.” You rolled your eyes.

You felt a small tug at your shirt. “Mama?”

“Yeah?”

Your little girl looked deep in thought. “Taesan can still be my friend, right?”

“Of course he can. If you want him to be.”

“Yeah!” She said, excitedly. “He let me win at hopscotch yesterday and his mama makes really yummy cheesecake.”

“She’s in it for the cheesecake?” Sunghoon muttered dryly as he came to sit back down next to the two of you.

Smirking at him, you shrugged. “I can’t even blame her. It’s cheesecake.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need Taesan for that.” He pouted again. “I’ll make her cheesecake.”

That immediately caught your daughter’s attention. She clambered over your legs to get into Sunghoon’s lap. “Right now?” Her eyes and smile were the hook, line and sinker.

“Sure—”

“No!” Your hand shot out and clasped over Sunghoon’s mouth. “Not right now.” You looked between both of them, pursing your lips to prevent a smile at the sight of their pleading eyes. “Later, okay? Soon,” you said, softly.

Sunghoon chuckled as your daughter practically deflated against him. “Fine. I wish it was now.”

You giggled. “I’m sure you do, baby.”

Carefully getting off her dad’s lap, she made her way back to her backpack.

“Where’re you going?”

At Sunghoon’s question, she held up the empty stem of the dandelion. “Is my dandyliar finished?”

“Well, it looks you already blew out your wish so, yeah.” You took the empty stem in your hands and placed it on her small drawing table. “But it’s ok. We can look for another one tomorrow morning.”

“Aw.” She deflated all over again. “I wanted to wish for Appa to make a cheesecake.”

“I’ll make you one.” Sunghoon groaned a little as he stood up before he took a few steps to cross the distance between them. It always made you smile at how your daughters many little steps to get from one point to another would take you and Sunghoon only one or two to bridge the gap.

Even just the sight of him standing beside her had your cheeks stinging with that good kind of pain where you feel yourself smiling longer and longer with each second, unable to suppress the warmth erupting from inside of you.

Sunghoon ruffled his fingers through your daughter’s hair. “I promise, I’ll make you one.”

“Pinkie!” She held up the single finger expectantly.

And Sunghoon responded readily. “Pinkie.” Sealing the promise with her thumb meeting his. “Perfect. Now,” he snapped his finger, pointing across the room. “Get in bed.”

“Carry me.”

You scoffed at the utter dramatics. Her hands thrown up, eyes closed as if defeated by a tiring day of colouring and hopscotch.

But Sunghoon didn’t complain. He never complained. If anything, he was hoping she would ask. “Of course,” his voice was soft, you could barely hear it.

“You know, you can climb into bed on your own, little miss.” You tried to chastise her. Your heart wasn’t really in it, but, it felt like something you were supposed to do.

She wasn’t having it though. “I don’t want to,” she said over Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to,” Sunghoon repeated, giving you a smug smile.

“Fair enough.” Joining Sunghoon at her bed, you sighed while crouching down to level with her. “Seems like you’ve had a nice long day.”

Nodding, your daughter laid back and shuffled into her pillows. “Did you have a nice long day, Mama?”

You thought for a moment. “Hm, sorta.”

Pouting, she looked at her dad. “Appa.”

“Yes, princess,” Sunghoon mused while he brought the soft covers up to her chin.

“Carry Mama to bed.”

Sunghoon grinned at the authoritative tone of a four year old, but couldn’t pass up on such an easy task. “It would be my pleasure.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. At the way his eyes still held the same love and affection and desire that he had years ago. That it hadn’t changed with time but rather aged with care.

Sunghoon’s hand snuck across the carpeted floor to rest on top of yours.

You could see the way he was ever so slowly leaning closer, out of pure habit if nothing else, but you needed to put your little girl to sleep.

“Before that, it’s time for Little Miss Monkey.” You gestured with your eyebrows to the bookshelf behind Sunghoon and giggled at the way he snapped back to the present before turning to get your daughter's favourite bedtime story

“Yes! Wait, I need Puddles.” She searched among her many stuffed animals to pick out the soft yellow duck. Her best friend, according to her. She held it close, getting back under the covers.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, opening the storybook. “Is Puddles ready?”

“Yep!”

And so began the nightly routine of Little Miss Monkey and her quest for the the perfect jungle party present. An odd story that seemed to stick with your daughter, whether it was the various different animals or the various different voices that Sunghoon insisted on using when reading for each animal, you knew the day was never really complete without Little Miss Monkey successfully reaching her jungle party.

As Sunghoon closed the book and placed it back on the shelf you leaned forward and gave your daughter a kiss on the forehead. “Get some sleep,” you whispered.

“But Puddles said she wants to stay awake.” Her stubbornness was still fighting with her exhaustion.

You had to admit, it was pretty cute. “Puddles said that, did she?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh.”

Sunghoon placed a hand on the small of your back, you could hear the quiet huff of amusement he let out.

But you weren’t one to give up that easily. “Well I’m sorry, sweets, but you and Puddles are gonna feel tired in the morning if you don’t sleep now.”

“Puddles won’t feel tired. She only feels tired if I tell her to.” Apparently your daughter got her stubbornness from you.

Sunghoon gave you a smirk, a sort of challenging grin as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“Oh, that’s right.” You nodded. “So she wants to stay awake right now because you told her to?”

“…No?”

Sunghoon bent down to whisper to her. “Mama’s gonna win this, princess.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

“Besides, you‘ll want enough energy to win at hopscotch tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Exactly.”

“So,” You leaned down next to him, your fingers trailing down your little girl’s forehead, following the bridge of her nose. “Close your eyes.”

“That tickles,” she giggled.

Sunghoon gave her hand a gentle kiss. “Keep them closed.”

“No peeking?”

“Nope.” Taking your hand into his, Sunghoon started to slowly pull you towards the door.

As you tip toed towards the door, you heard her gentle sigh. “Okay. Goodnight.”

You smiled, looking back to see her eyes still shut. Puddles held tightly as she curled on her side.

“Goodnight, baby,” you called out.

Sunghoon carefully opened the door to not be too loud. “We love you.”

You both waited for her reply. She always replied back.

“Mm, love you.” Soft and wispy, sleep was slowly catching up to her and you could hear it from her voice. So you did your best to shut the door extra slowly, waiting for the subtle click before quietly walking off.

You leaned your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder as you entered the kitchen. “Are you still imploding?”

“I’m fine. Cool as a cucumber.” He was doing his best to ignore the look of amused disbelief that you were giving him.

“Ya know, someone who’s actually cool as a cucumber wouldn’t use that kind of phrase.”

“Look, I just…” You chuckled at the arbitrary hand flails he was doing, incapable of articulating his feelings exactly.

“You freaked out?”

Sunghoon squinted at you a little. “I think my freak out was perfectly sound, given the circumstances.”

“Perfectly sound, huh?”

His hands went up to plead innocence. “Objectively speaking.”

“You wanted the kid’s mug, Sunghoon.” You scoffed as you walked towards the cabinets, getting yourself a glass of water.

“Again, a perfectly sound request.”

You paused after taking a sip, giving Sunghoon a blank stare while you wondered whether your daughter’s stubbornness really came from you or her father. “You should rethink your definitions.”

Reaching across the kitchen island, Sunghoon took a few sips of water from your glass. “Taesan should rethink his decisions.”

“My god.” You muttered under your breath as Sunghoon straightened up, already preparing to explain his point.

“No, no, babe, it starts with flowers and cheesecake and then the next thing you know, it’s February 14th and he’s gotten her a be-my-valentine chocolate box.”

“You’ve got be kidding me.”

“She loves chocolate, Y/n, she won’t be able to resist. That kid is scheming.” He pointed his thumb at the direction of your front door, as if poor little Taesan was waiting out there.

You laughed quietly to yourself. “My love, he’s a four year old child. He does not have that kind of speed.”

“Did you just black out and forget the way our own daughter was bolting around this house? Kids have speed, Y/n”

“That’s not- You know what I meant.”

Sunghoon slouched down on one of the counter chairs. “I’m coping with humour right now, okay? It’s either this or I eat a tub of ice cream.”

“You’re kinda cute when you’re like this,” you smirked.

“I’m glad my spiralling is entertaining to you.”

“Oh, very. But I hope this isn’t gonna be your attitude if she actually does get married in the future.”

“By that point in time, I’ll be alright with it.” He spoke with a lot of unearned confidence which had you raising an eyebrow. “I’ll try to be.” Your expression was unmoving. “It’s the thought that counts, okay?”

You shook your head, unable to hold off the smile as you got started on putting the dry dishes away. Sunghoon instinctively came to help, still trying to find a way to explain exactly what he was feeling.

“Look,” he started. “I just don’t think that she should be calling every flower-gifting-guy her husband.”

“Well, no. But we did our part in telling her as much.” You handed him the ceramic dishes that had to go on the higher shelves. “I think you can relax a little bit now, right?”

“I’ll relax after she deems my cheesecake better than Taesan’s mum’s.”

You smirked. “So we’re beefing with his mum now too?”

“It’s her kid.”

“Right,” You put the dish in your hands back on the rack. turning Sunghoon by his elbow to get him to face you. “Her sweet kid, who gave our daughter flowers because his mum probably taught him to treat girls nicely. And let them win every now and then. And share yummy food with them.”

He frowned. “Ok, so, I see your point. But—”

“Didn’t your mum teach you the same?” You crossed your arms, walking back to lean against the counter, a little smile on your face. “I specifically remember a scrawny teenager holding a lovely bouquet of lilies.”

“I- Scrawny?”

“You’re gonna look me in my face and tell me you weren’t scrawny at nineteen?”

“I was,” Sunghoon smirked, walking closer to you. “But I was hoping you remembered more about our first date than just lilies and my scrawny ass.”

You tried to bite your lower lip to keep from smiling wider. “I remember every moment of it, Sunghoon.”

“Good.” He leaned down slowly, his breath was warm against your lips right before he kissed you. Firm hands held your waist, lifting you on top of the counter as he pulled you against him. But then he froze and leaned back. “Mm mm,” he shook his head, “Back to point.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead against his chest, tired of the topic already.

Sunghoon was determined though. “That was a date, Y/n. Getting your date flowers isn’t life changing, okay? It’s law- Oh my god.”

“What?” You raised your head.

“I think she might be right about the rule of flowers…”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his low murmurs of realisation. “Aw, Sunghoon.” You reached up and cupped his face, brushing his hair back as he returned your smile.

“I just got scared there for a minute,” he whispered. “That’s all.”

“I got scared too. It’s normal.”

“Yeah, but you handled it like a pro, unlike me.”

You stroked his cheek. “Again, very normal for us.”

He frowned, trying to remain serious despite your playful smile, the teasing glint in your eyes. His resolve only lasted about three seconds before he sighed.

“Yeah.” Nodding, Sunghoon admitted defeat, pulling you closer once more as he wrapped his arms around you, his head slotting itself into the crook of your neck.

He felt the way you seemed to decompress in his arms, your own hands stroking his hair, lighting scratching his back. It was unreal how relaxing it was to hold and be held by you.

“You tired?” He murmured against your neck.

You hummed. “A little.”

“Alright then.” Stepping back, Sunghoon slid one arm under your knees and other around holding your waist as he lifted you.

“Woah, what—” Your hands clasped around his neck, confused, as he gave you a light kiss on the cheek.

“I believe I promised our daughter that I would carry you to bed.”

Your gentle laughter became a little muffled as you curled your face into his chest, listening to the steady beat of your husband’s heart while he carried you to the bedroom.

“Alright.” Carefully laying you onto the mattress, he propped up the pillows for you to lean against. “You get comfy. I need to head out for a moment, but I’ll be quick.”

You frowned. “Where to?”

“Convenience store.” He headed into the closet, as he spoke. “She wants a cheesecake so I need to get a few more ingredients. And I’d ask you to come with, but, someone’s gotta be here.”

“Sunghoon,” you sighed. “She doesn’t need it first thing in the morning.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sunghoon gave you a deadpanned expression as he walked back out, pulling on a coat and some gloves. “If I was her, I’d want it first thing in the morning.”

There was no point trying to convince him otherwise, so you simply did as he asked and got comfy. “You should get blueberries.”

“Already on the list.” He gave you a wink as you leaned across to your bedside table for the novel you were currently reading. “Can never have enough blueberries in this house,” he muttered.

“She gets it from you.”

Sunghoon just shrugged, walking closer. “They’re the perfect snack. Well, besides you.” He bent down to give you one last kiss, letting it linger a little longer than you’d have expected. The book had almost slipped out of your hands before he stepped back, smirking, like he knew exactly what he just did.

“Be quick.” You looked down at the page, not really reading anything but just not wanting to give him any satisfaction.

“Or you’ll miss me?”

“More like you‘ll miss me.”

“Right, cause that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.” He waved before walking out the room and soon, you heard the faint sound of the front door shutting.

You settled into the bed, bringing the covers up to your waist, and you’d just started to get into the novel when you heard the gentle buzz of your phone beside you. You breathed a little sigh, already expecting it.

You didn’t even bother checking who it was when you picked up. “Did you forget something?” You asked.

“Nope,” Sunghoon responded and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “I just missed you.”

a.n: this feels diff to my other fics bcs it’s so dialogue heavy but . i didn’t know how else to write the idea that i had. i feel like a family’s dynamic is seen really well through both verbal and non verbal communication but for a fic where the kid is so young, verbal communication just sorta made the most sense? hopefully people like this as much as descriptive/prose-y fics 🤞🏽

perm taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf — @itsrinsdrs — @enjakey — @kissmete — @jaylaxies — @tobiosbbyghorl — @hoondrop — @chaeneu

2025 © yourislandgirl

[addictedtohobi]

Did you watch it? The 3 hour live? It was calming and magical. What do you think of the new logo?

[addictedtohobi]

Super random , but I was watching tiktoks of Jake getting ointment put on his canker sores and it just made me think of how cute and fussy Jake would be and how cute and lowkey over dramatic y/n would think Jake is being but still hold his hand real tight when she helps apply the ointment 🤣

LMAOOOOOO pls this one is funny bc 1) all those clips of jake actually straight up SUFFERING are so hilarious to me and 2) i literally used to help my ex put ointment on his canker sores too bc he too used to get them all the time .. ANYWAYS

──── YOUR BABY ❤️‍🩹✨💉 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

“Jake, you have to let me do this.” 

“No—I don’t think you really have to—“ 

“Jake.” 

You blink at him, frozen mid-movement, holding a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic ointment in the air. 

Jake’s sitting on the couch next to you in the most dramatic blanket burrito you’ve ever seen—his hood pulled over his head, the blanket wrapped all around him, legs pulled up to his chest like a cocoon. 

He blinks back at you. Then at the cotton swab in hand. 

“…Please spare me,” he whispers, his lips forming a sad, tiny pout. His voice comes out nasally—there’s a lisp. 

A tragic, comical lisp. 

You stifle a snort. 

“Jake. You can’t speak like that forever. Plus, how are you supposed to eat?” You lift a brow at him. 

He sinks deeper into his monstrous blanket mountain. 

“I’ll just juice all my meals,” he shrugs, all innocent. “I can survive off smoothies. You’d help me blend my meals right?” 

You give him a look. 

“I can’t believe I’m dating you.” 

He frowns, “Really?” 

“I’m kidding, Jake,” you roll your eyes, a sweet smile on your face as you nudge him. 

Jake smiles back, relieved. 

“But I’m never kissing you again if you don’t let me do this.” 

Jake’s smile drops. 

He looks at you like you just suggested the worst idea possible. 

“You’re so mean,” he breathes, sad, miserable, lispy. 

“You heard me—“ you shrug, “—no kisses until you let me fix the hellfire pit in your mouth.” 

His jaw drops. 

“Do you even love me? You don’t right? I knew it. Is this revenge for that time I accidentally made your matcha taste like pond water—“ 

“—Jake—“

“—and now you want to stab me in the mouth.” 

“It’s literally medicine. I’m dabbing medicine.” 

He whimpers. Whimpers. 

“Dabbing hurts,” he whines, eyes big and glossy. “Do you know how much pain my mouth is in anytime it moves? I can feel the wind inside our apartment. I can taste the flavors of each and every atom entering my mouth.” 

You try your best not to laugh.

You fail.

“Okay baby, come here,” you say gently, letting the pet name slip out like a bribe, hoping it’ll soften your ridicously dramatic boyfriend. You lean in closer, cotton swab in hand, aiming for the tiniest sore you’ve ever seen. 

“That’s not fair,” he mumbles, eyes wide. “You can’t pull the baby card like that.” 

You sigh, lips twitching. 

“I’ll hold your hand.” 

Jake immediately brightens. 

“You’re the best, baby,” he says sweetly, beaming as he grabs your free hand in both of his without a second of hesitation. 

He’s sweating. You can see the glint of it on his temple. 

You lean in even closer, bringing the swab back in front of his mouth. 

“Okay,” he lets out a breath. “Okay, okay. I’m ready. Wait—no, okay.. Just warn me.” 

“I’m warning you.” 

“No, like countdown. Please.” 

“Jake.” 

“COUNT. DOWN.” 

“Okay, okay—three…two—“

Jake squeezes your hand so tight you think you’re about to be one-handed for the remaining of your life. 

His eyes are clenched shut.

Shoulders are at his ears. 

“…One.” 

You dab. Gently. 

He lets out a full-on moan. 

“STOP STOP STOP.” 

“It’s over.” 

“Oh.” 

He opens one eye. 

Blinks.

Touches his cheek slowly. 

“That’s it?” 

You roll your eyes, standing from the couch and leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead, “You’re such a baby.” 

“I’m your baby,” Jake smiles smugly, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him. “You called me baby. You never call me baby.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snort, ruffling his hair. “Good job, Jakey. Proud of you.” 

You turn to put the ointment away, but you don’t make it far—Jake grabs your arm and tugs you back down onto the couch, falling into him. 

“Wait—can I have a kiss now?” 

You give him a look. 

“I thought your mouth was in so much pain anytime it moves.” 

“…I’ll suffer through it.” 

Jake’s eyes practically beg you, his hands already holding lifting your chin up towards him. 

“Please.” 

You give in to your smile and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

Even with the sore. 

Even with the ointment breath.

Because he is your baby. 

And you’ll suffer through him any day. 

no doubt m. list

tag list pt 1!: @bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[addictedtohobi]

They got Lucifer with 02z dressed like this 😍 🥵

[addictedtohobi]

✩ˎˊ˗ between the shelves ( sjy ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 18.7k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, alpha!jake, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, strangers to lovers trope, kinda oblivious!jake, jake is in love-love, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — as the only son of a prestigious family and the student council secretary, sim jaeyun—or as his friends like to call him: jake has always been at the top. admired, respected, and burdened by responsibility. he’s used to handling everything himself, ensuring perfection in all that he does. and then there was you, someone he had always seen but never had the chance to approach, until fate handed him the opportunity. hiding from relentless admirers, he found himself in the library, where, to his surprise, you weren’t just another passing face. jake has always adored the idea of having a mate, but he never rushed fate, until you. before he knows it, meetings no longer hold his full attention, tasks he once insisted on doing himself are left to others, all so he can be near you.

A thick, leather-bound book rested in Jake’s hands, the pages filled with intricate Old English that he absorbed with minimal effort. The world outside didn’t exist in this moment. No expectations, no responsibilities, just the quiet hum of silence.

As a pureblooded Alpha born into wealth and status, moments like this were rare, but within the walls of the student council room, he could finally breathe.

His desk bore the title Council Secretary, and his scent of pine and oranges lingered in the air. His instincts, so accustomed to composure, were calm.

Until they weren’t.

The sharp bang of wooden doors slamming open shattered the silence, followed immediately by a heavy thud and the unmistakable sound of someone crashing onto the marble floor. A low growl echoed through the room, spilling through the air like a warning, but it was nothing Jake hadn’t heard before.

He shut his book with an irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can't even enjoy my mornings because of you mutts.”

Lifting his gaze, he saw Ni-ki sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain, while Jay towered over him, phone in hand, grinning so wide his sharp canines glinted under the lights.

“That was pathetic,” Jay snickered, snapping another picture of Ni-ki’s crumpled state. “Hold still, I need a better angle.”

“Go to hell,” Ni-ki grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows, glaring up at Jay like he was debating whether to lunge at him or play dead.

Jake sighed, setting his book down with patience before looking at them both with a deadpan stare. “If you two are done turning the council room into a wrestling ring, get out.”

Jay only grinned wider, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Relax your ass, Sim, we’re just having a little fun.”

Jake arched a brow. “And I was having a little peace. But as always, you two can’t seem to exist without disturbing the entire building.”

Ni-ki groaned again, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “For the record, I was thrown into the room.”

Jay shrugged. “You were in my way.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. Annoyed but amused, he couldn’t fight the small smile. This was routine, his peace ruined before the day even began. With a sigh, he leaned back. “Where are the others?”

Jay offered a hand to Ni-ki, easily pulling the younger Alpha up with no effort. As he did, he casually answered Jake’s question. “Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jungwon are with their mates doing God knows what, and yeah, we're here, I guess.” He shot a look at Ni-ki, who was brushing himself off, looking more disgruntled than hurt.

Ni-ki, still in the middle of recovering his pride, added, “Jungwon was asking what you'd like for breakfast too.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the polished wood of his desk. He took a second to think, then hummed. “Any sandwich and tea will do.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. “So Australian of you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, the smile still there. He couldn’t help it, his friends knew how to get under his skin but also how to make him laugh when he least expected it. “Fuck off,” he said with a laugh.

Jay and Ni-ki grinned before heading to their usual spots, each claiming their own desk within the spacious council room. They sprawled themselves out on the comfortable office chairs, limbs loose and postures unguarded, a contrast to the cold, poised way they carried themselves outside these walls.

Here, there was no need for their masks of control, no need to uphold the weight of their bloodlines with every carefully measured movement.

Jay leaned back, arms behind his head, his smirk fading into something more relaxed. Ni-ki, on the other hand, kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. There was no need for perfection here, no calculating gazes from the elders who measured their worth in status and tradition.

Jake watched them settle, his fingers still tapping absentmindedly against his desk. It was an unspoken truth between them—this was a place where they weren’t heirs weighed down by the legacies of their families.

Jay let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling. “So, what’s on the agenda today?” His voice was lazy, but there was curiosity beneath it.

Jake smirked, finally picking up his book again. “Not my problem until the first meeting starts. So, until then, entertain yourselves.” He flipped a page lazily before adding with a chuckle, “Besides, Jungwon’s the one holding it today.”

Jay let out a low whistle. “Poor guy.”

Ni-ki snorted. “He volunteered.”

“Still,” Jay stretched his arms over his head, “it’s cruel of you to let the kid handle all those reports first thing in the morning.”

Jake barely spared him a glance, amusement flickering in his eyes. “He’s the council president. He can handle it.”

Ni-ki hummed in agreement, already reclining further into his chair. “Fair point.”

Their silence was short-lived.

“Babe, I swear it wasn’t me!”

The frantic plea was followed by the sound of hurried footsteps before the doors were slammed open, again.

Sunoo stumbled into the room, half-dragged by Sunghoon’s sister, who had his wrist in an iron grip. Her eyes burned with fury, a stark contrast to Sunoo’s desperate expression as he tried and failed to reason with her.

Behind them, three familiar Omegas rushed in, all trying to calm her down, but their efforts were useless. She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

The rest of the council members, scattered around the room, barely reacted, other than to smirk at the scene unfolding before them.

Jay leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Well, this is new. Usually, Sunoo's the one doing the chasing.”

Ni-ki snickered. “What did he even do?”

Sunoo shot them both a panicked look. “I didn't do anything!”

Sunghoon’s sister tightened her grip, making the pink-haired Alpha yelp. “Liar.”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, snapping his book shut with a dull thud before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Every damn morning with you people.”

Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jungwon strolled in, Jungwon balancing a tray of drinks while Heeseung and Sunghoon carried bags of food. Sunghoon placed his down on the table with a lazy smirk. “Yeah, because clearly, I’m the one who forgot her coffee order. Really, Kim?”

Heeseung snorted as he set his own bag down. “Man, you really dug your own grave this time.”

Ni-ki snickered. “Or, y’know, not let your mate plot your downfall first thing in the morning.”

Jake shook his head, leaning back in his chair, already done with the day despite it barely starting. “Someone just make sure they don’t destroy the place before the first meeting.”

Jungwon, the only one actually preparing for said meeting, sighed. “Not my job.”

This was gonna be a long day.

Jake sat at his desk, his chin propped up on one hand as he lazily flipped through his book. His classroom wasn’t exactly his first choice for a hangout spot, but with an hour to kill before class started, the others had somehow decided it was the perfect place to loiter.

Heeseung and Jay were sprawled on the desks near the window, bickering over something trivial. Sunghoon sat with his arms crossed, seemingly unbothered, while Ni-ki stole Jungwon’s notebook, flipping through it with fake curiosity. Sunoo was slumped in a chair, spinning a pen between his fingers, looking as if he was ready to nap at any second.

The rest of the students in the room? Staring.

Seven pureblooded Alphas gathered in one place was enough to make anyone second-guess their presence. To most, they weren’t just intimidating—they were untouchable. A different breed entirely. Powerful, respected, envied. Gods among the mortals.

Jay stretched, letting out a loud yawn. “Y’know, for a guy who complains about us ruining his peace, you sure don’t kick us out.”

Jake didn’t even glance up from his book. “Because you’d just follow me somewhere else.”

Sunghoon snorted. “He’s got a point.”

Ni-ki, still flipping through Jungwon’s notes, suddenly looked up. “So, what’s the plan? We just sit here and let people gawk at us for the next hour?”

Sunoo groaned, tilting his head back. “Sounds exhausting.”

Jake sighed, shutting his book with a quiet thud. He knew better than to expect a moment of true peace when his friends were involved.

Jungwon tapped his fingers against the desk, glancing at the clock before looking around at the others. “We could go out and eat an early lunch or something.”

Jay, still balanced on the back legs of his chair, stretched his arms over his head. “Tempting, but do I look like I wanna move?”

Heeseung smirked. “Or… we could buy a new car.”

For a second, the room was silent. Then, with zero hesitation, the rest of them hummed in agreement.

“We should,” Sunghoon said, nodding as if it were the most logical idea.

“Yeah,” Ni-ki added, “we definitely should.”

Jake leaned back, unimpressed. “You guys can barely get out of those chairs.”

Sunoo, still twirling his pen between his fingers, shot Jake a lazy grin. “Exactly. We have the money, the connections, the resources… but no energy.”

Jay sighed dramatically, rubbing a hand over his face. “Such is the burden of being rich.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Heeseung ignored him, leaning forward with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Okay, but if we were actually buying one, what are we thinking? Another sports car? Something imported?”

“I’m feeling a custom build,” Sunghoon mused, pretending to consider the idea.

Jay grinned. “We could each get one.”

“We could,” Ni-ki agreed, nodding sagely.

They all sat there for a second, deep in thought. Not a single one of them moved.

Jake smirked, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Jungwon shook his head, muttering under his breath before sitting up straighter. “Okay, so lunch?”

Sunoo waved a lazy hand. “Too much effort.”

Jay sighed, finally letting his chair drop back onto all four legs. “Then what? We just sit here and rot?”

“Pretty much,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

Jake, who had been half-listening while flipping through the last few pages of his book, finally closed it with a soft thud. He stretched his arms over his head, rolling out his shoulders. “Well, unlike you guys, I actually have something to do. Gotta return this.”

Jay raised a brow. “You need someone to come with you?”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not like Ni-ki. I can survive a walk to the library alone.”

Ni-ki, who had been aimlessly tapping his fingers against the desk, snapped his head up. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake just shot him a grin before swiftly making his exit, his laughter echoing down the hallway as the youngest grumbled under his breath.

Jay snickered, nudging Ni-ki with his foot. “You gonna take that?”

Ni-ki huffed, slumping further into his chair. “I’m letting him have his moment. He’s gonna trip on air soon enough, and when he does, I’ll be there.”

Sunghoon smirked. “I’ll pay to see that.”

Luminous shades of gold bled through the library windows, casting soft halos of light over towering shelves lined with countless books. Dust particles floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the gentle glow, as the faint scent of aged paper and ink settled like a quiet hum in the silence.

Jake’s slow steps echoed against the polished floor, the only sound aside from the occasional page turning or scratch of a pen. Most students were in class, leaving the library nearly empty, just the way he liked it.

With one hand shoved deep into his pocket and the other gripping a newly found book by some historical author he had always meant to read, he allowed himself to get lost in the moment.

His gaze trailed along the rows of shelves, taking in the endless spines of stories and knowledge, before drifting toward the farthest section of the library, where the soft rustling of pages caught his attention.

There was someone else here. You.

Your figure stood among the books, reaching up to return a few to their rightful place. The way your fingers traced the spines, the natural ease in your movements—it was almost mesmerizing. Like you belonged to this place, like the library itself was an extension of you.

His grip on his book tightened. Where had he seen you before?

His gaze lingered on the soft flush of your cheeks, the way your lips, plump and untouched by any trace of worry, parted ever so slightly as you focused on the books in your hands. Everything about you was delicate, and it made something inside him stir.

Jake swallowed, shaking his head as if to clear the sudden haze clouding his thoughts.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of a book slipping from your hands.

The moment it hit the ground never came; because he was already moving, instincts sharper than his own awareness. His fingers wrapped around the spine just in time, catching it with ease. The world around him blurred, fading into irrelevance as he looked up, only to find you reaching for it at the same time.

Your fingers brushed against his: warm, soft, fleeting. But it was enough. Enough for something to stir deep within him, a current running sharp and fast through his veins. His grip on the book tightened slightly before he forced himself to loosen it, finally handing it back to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice gentle, but it rang through his ears like a bell.

Jake swallowed. Up close, you were even more unreal than he had thought. The golden light framed you like you belonged to another world entirely.

And then, there was your scent.

Honey and seawater. Sweet, but fresh. Familiar yet foreign. It was intoxicating, wrapping around his senses and settling into his lungs like something meant to be there.

His own scent spiked before he could stop it—warm, rich, deep, like oranges and pine, crisp air after rain. Not overpowering, but enough. Enough to see your breath hitch, your lashes flutter as you blinked up at him.

Jake silently thanked the universe at that moment for making him a pureblooded Alpha. Because if he weren’t—if he didn’t have the control, the discipline, the sheer force of will ingrained into his very being, he might’ve done something reckless.

He might’ve stepped closer. Might’ve let himself breathe you in for a second longer. Might’ve said something that would betray the way his entire body was suddenly on high alert, every nerve tuned in to you.

But instead, he did what he did best. He played it off, a lazy smirk curving at the corner of his lips as if this moment hadn’t just turned his world on its axis.

“No problem,” he finally said, voice smooth, calculated.

He made sure his tone was effortless, made sure his expression stayed composed, like his heart wasn’t hammering against his ribs, like his senses weren’t still tangled up in the traces of your scent lingering in the air.

He let his gaze flicker over you one last time before he forced himself to look away, shifting his weight slightly, fingers drumming against the cover of his book as if his entire body wasn’t still hyper-aware of your presence.

You gave him a small nod, your lips curling into a polite smile before turning back to the shelves. And that should’ve been the end of it. That should’ve been his cue to walk away, to let this moment dissolve into nothing more than a short interaction.

But Jake didn’t move.

Instead, he stood there, gripping his book a little too tightly, watching as you reached for another volume on the top shelf, your fingers brushing against the spine with ease. He watched as a stray beam of light caught in your hair, making it glow, as if the sun itself had taken a liking to you. He watched the way your lashes fluttered when you scanned the titles, the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

And for the first time in a long time, Jake found himself at a complete loss.

He had met hundreds—thousands—of people. He had seen beauty in all forms, had been in the presence of those who were revered, admired, worshipped even. Yet somehow, none of them had ever managed to unravel him like this. None of them had ever made the air feel heavier, had ever made him question if he had truly seen them before, or if they had only existed in the parts of his mind he hadn’t dared explore.

Why did it feel like he should know you?

“You come here often?” The words left his mouth before he could think better of them, and for a second, he almost cringed at himself. He wasn’t that guy. He could do better than that.

You turned to him, one brow raised in mild amusement. “To the library?”

Jake chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay, that sounded dumb.”

“A little,” you teased, your lips curving into the softest smile. “But to answer your question, I do. I help here when I have free time.”

Something about that made too much sense. You belonged in a place like this, where everything was calm, where the scent of books and ink lingered in the air, where the golden light spilling through the windows made you look almost ethereal.

“Huh,” Jake mused, nodding.

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Why? You don’t come to the library often?”

“Only when I need to,” he admitted with a smirk. “Or when I’m trying to get away from certain people.”

“Ah,” you nodded knowingly. “So, I’m guessing today is one of those days?”

Jake let out a breathy chuckle. “Something like that.” He tilted his head slightly, curiosity getting the better of him. “What about you? You actually like being here?”

Your gaze softened, trailing over the rows of books surrounding you. “Yeah. It’s quiet. Peaceful.” You glanced back at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “And usually free of distractions.”

Jake placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Ouch. Are you saying I’m a distraction?”

You bit back a laugh. “I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to,” he shot back, his smirk widening.

For a moment, silence settled between you both—not the awkward kind, but something softer, something comfortable. Jake found himself memorizing the way the light reflected in your eyes, the way your fingers brushed against the book in your hands absentmindedly.

Then you tilted your head. “What book is that?”

Jake glanced down at the book he had been gripping this entire time. “Something I just finished.”

“Was it good?”

He studied you for a moment before a teasing glint flickered in his gaze. “Maybe you should borrow it and find out.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “What if I hate it?”

Jake grinned, tilting his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Then I’d seriously question your taste in books, and possibly in people.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t help the amused chuckle that escaped. “Wow, so judgmental.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “I have standards.”

You laughed softly, reaching for the book. Your fingers brushed his—warm, electric. Jake’s scent spiked before he could stop it, oranges and pine, rich and inviting.

You didn’t say anything, but you hesitated, your fingers lingering against his for just a fraction longer than necessary. That momentary pause tells him you noticed.

Jake cleared his throat, flexing his fingers slightly before shoving one hand into his pocket. He watched as you flipped open the book, eyes scanning the first few lines. The sunlight filtering through the library windows caught in your hair, giving you an almost ethereal glow. You looked so focused, so at ease, and yet…

There’s something about you that tugs at something buried deep inside him.

“You’re sure we haven’t met before?” he asks, voice quieter this time, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

You glance up, brows furrowing slightly. “You seem familiar.” Your voice is careful, as if testing the words. “And not just because you’re the student council secretary.”

Jake watches you closely as you tilt your head, lost in thought.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” you continue. “At dinners, at events.” A small sigh escapes you. “But I never really cared to remember the faces or names at those things.”

Something in Jake’s chest tightens.

You weren’t like the others, then. The ones who flaunted their family names, who cared too much about appearances, about impressing the right people. You were rich, sure, but you didn’t let it define you.

And somehow, that made you even more intriguing. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of Jake’s lips. “Ouch.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t take it personally. I just never cared about those social circles.”

Jake hums in amusement. “And yet, here we are.”

You arch a brow. “And yet, here we are.”

Jake’s gaze flickers to the book cart beside you, filled with stacks waiting to be returned to their proper places. He tilts his head, considering, then gestures toward it.

“Mind if I help?”

You blink, caught off guard. “You?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What? Think I’m incapable of putting books on a shelf?”

You huff out a small laugh. “I just figured you’d have a class to get to. Or a meeting.”

Jake leans casually against the cart, hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered. “My classes don’t even start for at least forty minutes or so.” His lips curl into that signature, lazy grin. “Plenty of time to lend a hand.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “And why exactly would the student council secretary want to waste his free time stacking books?”

His grin widens. “Maybe I just like the company.”

You roll your eyes, turning to grab a book from the cart, but before you can, Jake leans in slightly, dropping his voice just enough to make you pause.

“Or,” he teases, “are you saying you don’t want a big, strong Alpha helping you?”

You let out a giggle, shaking your head. “Oh, please.”

Jake smirks. “That wasn’t a no.”

You shake your head again, amused, and hand him a book. “Fine, Secretary Sim. Let’s see if you actually know your way around a library.”

He takes it from you with an exaggerated air of confidence. “Prepare to be impressed.”

And just like that, minutes pass, time slipping through your fingers like sand as you and Jake move through the towering shelves, placing books where they belong. What started as a simple task quickly turns into something else entirely, something lighter.

You are nothing but a giggling fit as the pureblooded Alpha standing just a few inches from you recounts stories from his childhood. For someone who always seemed so put-together, so composed, seeing this side of him; one filled with sighs and boyish grins as he talks about his past—it was unexpectedly charming.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, biting back another laugh as you slide a book onto the shelf. “You cried because your tutor forced you to read Alice in Wonderland?”

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face. “I was like… six, okay? And I didn’t just cry—I threw the book.”

You gasp, covering your mouth in mock horror. “The abuse!”

He snorts, shaking his head. “It was self-defense. I thought it was gonna be some fun story about a girl going on an adventure, but it made no sense.”

You stifle a laugh as he leans against the shelf beside you, watching your expression with a knowing smirk. “You think it’s funny?”

You nod, grinning. “It is funny. What kind of kid throws a tantrum over Alice in Wonderland?”

“The kind who got locked in a study room for hours and told he wasn’t leaving until he finished the chapter,” he says, deadpan.

At that, you burst into quiet laughter, shaking your head. “So what changed? You seem pretty into books now.”

Jake exhales, rolling a book between his hands. “Honestly? After that, I refused to read anything for a while. But my mom, she wasn’t having it. She started giving me books that actually interested me. Stories about history, people, real things. And eventually… I don’t know. I got used to it. Liked it, even.”

His voice softens slightly, a hint of sincerity slipping through his usual teasing tone. It makes you pause, watching him a little more closely.

“Guess I should thank my stubborn tutor,” he adds with a lopsided smile. “Even if Alice in Wonderland still haunts me to this day.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Noted. No Wonderland-themed gifts for you.”

Jake chuckles, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. Then, with a playful nudge of your shoulder, he steps back, grabbing another book from the cart.

He glances down at the watch strapped to his wrist, and his chest tightens when he sees the time—only ten minutes left before his next class. He exhales through his nose, shoulders dropping slightly.

Why did it feel so heavy to leave? It wasn’t like he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t like this was the last time he’d see you. But something about walking away now, after all the laughter, after the ease that settled between you both, made his steps feel weighted.

He sets the book down on the cart, rubbing the back of his neck before finally looking at you. “Guess I should get going,” he mutters, not moving just yet.

You tilt your head, a soft, knowing smile gracing your lips. “Duty calls, huh?”

Jake chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”

There’s a second of silence, and he shifts on his feet, reluctant. He knows he should go, his class isn’t going to wait for him—but there's something holding him in place, like an invisible thread still tying him to this moment, to you.

His fingers tap against the side of his thigh, his weight shifting slightly. Then, before he can think twice about it, he blurts out, “You know… I never got your name.”

It’s a poor excuse to stay a little longer, but it’s the truth. He’s heard people mention you before, seen you in passing at events or around school—always just another face in a sea of familiarity. But here, now, under the warm glow of the library, he realizes that knowing of you isn’t the same as knowing you.

And he wants to.

Your eyebrows lift slightly, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Then, as if humoring him, you tilt your head, an amused glint in your eyes.

“You mean to tell me you, Sim Jaeyun—Jake, student council secretary—know the names of half the student body but not mine?” you tease lightly, arms crossing over your chest.

Jake scoffs, crossing his own arms in response, mirroring your stance. “Hey, in my defense, most people introduce themselves to me first,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You, on the other hand, just threw books at me and insulted my childhood trauma.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine.” You unfold your arms, watching him for a moment before finally saying, “(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

He just knows he looks stupid right now. Like some love-struck idiot with a boyish grin plastered across his face. But he can’t help it.

Your name fits. It rolls through his mind so easily, as if he’s always known it.

“(Y/N),” he repeats, testing how it feels on his tongue. Yeah. He likes it.

Before he can embarrass himself any further, he takes a step back, pointing lazily at the book still on top of the cart. “Don’t forget to let me know if you hate it,” he teases, a smirk playing at his lips.

You roll your eyes but wave him off with an amused shake of your head.

The brunette Alpha stood at the front of the room, hands in his pockets, the glow of the projector casting sharp shadows across his face.

Another council meeting was in full swing, and the proposal was displayed on the screen behind him—an extensive, well-structured plan covering student initiatives for the next few months. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“As you can see, the proposed projects align with last year’s data on student participation rates. The revisions focus on accessibility, budget efficiency, and—”

A voice interrupted.

“How are you sure this is actually in line with what the student body wants?”

Jake’s sentence cut off. His head tilted slightly, eyes flickering toward the source of the comment—a Beta seated a few rows back, arms crossed, expression laced with casual arrogance.

Silence settled over the room.

Jake didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, his fingers curling slightly before flexing out again.

Then, he let out a quiet scoff. The kind that wasn’t amused. The kind that sent tension through the air.

The Beta shifted in his seat, but Jake only raised a brow, taking his time before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice calm. Too calm. “Did I just spend the last ten minutes breaking down survey data, feedback percentages, and budget adjustments for you to sit there and ask that?”

The Beta blinked.

Jake took a step forward, slowly, hands still in his pockets. “Tell me, do you think I’m just making things up? You think I’m sitting in my room, pulling numbers out of my ass for fun?” His voice was smooth, but the sharpness beneath it was unmistakable.

The room was deathly quiet now.

The Beta’s smirk wavered, but he pushed back. “I just think we should consider if—”

Jake cut him off. “No, see, I actually consider things. That’s why I have reports—real student responses—right here.” He tapped the remote, switching the slide. Pages of survey results filled the screen. “Meanwhile, you’re just speculating.”

Silence.

Jake’s gaze was cold. The Beta looked away.

“Thought so,” Jake muttered, clicking to the next slide as if nothing had happened. “Now, moving on.”

The tension still hung thick in the air, but somewhere near the front, Heeseung and Sunghoon exchanged a look—one of amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of their lips.

Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle under his breath, barely audible over the sound of the projector clicking to the next slide. Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from outright grinning.

“Damn,” Heeseung muttered low enough for only those nearby to hear.

Sunghoon, resting his chin lazily against his palm, whispered back, “Should’ve kept his mouth shut.”

The Beta had noticeably shrunk in his seat, his earlier arrogance dissolving under Jake’s scrutiny. His grip tightened around his pen, eyes fixed anywhere but on the secretary at the front of the room.

From the side, Sunoo barely spared him a glance before mumbling, “Serves him right.”

Jake, meanwhile, acted as though nothing had happened, his expression schooled back into indifference. He clicked through another slide, eyes skimming over the proposal details.

Ni-ki and Jay, seated near the back, exchanged glances before grinning. Without a word, Ni-ki held up a fist, and Jay bumped his against it—the silent gesture between them going unnoticed by most.

Well, almost unnoticed.

Jungwon, ever the responsible president, was supposed to be the professional one—the peacemaker. He was meant to keep the meetings under control, not laugh in moments like this. But, really, this was what happened when people tried to provoke them.

Despite knowing better, Jungwon let out a quiet snicker, only to quickly disguise it with a cough, covering his mouth as if clearing his throat. The movement was poorly timed, though, and Sunoo shot him an unimpressed look while Heeseung outright smirked.

Jake, standing at the front, didn’t acknowledge any of it, his attention seemingly fixed on the presentation—but the sharp flicker of amusement in his eyes betrayed him.

“As I was saying before we decided to entertain baseless accusations,” Jake continued smoothly, clicking through another slide, “the budget allocations for each committee have been balanced accordingly. If anyone has actual concerns that don’t involve unnecessary questioning of my ability to read statistics, now would be the time to raise them.”

Silence.

Jungwon pressed his fist against his mouth, eyes crinkling as he fought the urge to laugh again.

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders back before giving a curt nod.

“That’s all for today,” he hummed, voice smooth yet edged with the remnants of his earlier irritation. He didn’t bother with any closing remarks or pleasantries, simply gathering his things with efficiency. His movements were controlled—yet the way he shut his notebook with just a little too much force gave him away.

The second the meeting ended, he was gone. No lingering, no small talk, just a brisk exit, bag slung over his shoulder.

His steps were quick, the grand library doors already in sight, the one place no one would dare follow him.

But just as he turned the corner, voices caught his attention.

“Oh! Jake’s free now, should we go talk to him?”

“He always leaves so quickly after meetings… maybe today’s our chance?”

Jake cursed under his breath.

A group of Omegas stood a few feet away, clearly debating the best way to approach him. He didn’t have the patience for this. Not today. He wasn’t in the right mindset to deal with hopeful smiles or small talk.

More importantly, he didn’t trust himself not to accidentally snap. The last thing he needed was to ruin someone’s day just because he was still irritated from some idiotic remark earlier.

And, god forbid, if someone tried to confess their feelings today, he might actually combust.

He quickened his pace, reaching the library doors just before anyone could call his name. Slipping inside, he shut them behind him with a soft thud, muting the distant voices that nearly caught him.

The Alpha took a breath.

The library was cool, quiet—the perfect escape. His sharp eyes scanned the room, quickly bypassing the open tables and the front desk. He didn’t want to risk being found. Instead, he made a beeline for the very back, where towering bookshelves created a maze of hidden seats.

There, near the last row, he found what he was looking for—a section with oversized shelves, their positioning just awkward enough to create a hidden space. It wasn’t a proper seating area, more like a forbidden section of the library, where students occasionally hid when they wanted to avoid the world.

Perfect.

Jake slipped into the small space, sinking onto the cushioned seat against the back wall. The moment he was out of sight, he let his head rest against the wood, eyes briefly shutting.

Finally. No interruptions. No stupid questions. No unwanted attention. Just silence.

Jake had been there for a while now, longer than he intended, but time always moved differently in the library. The quiet had done little to fully rid him of his earlier frustration, but at least it kept him from doing something he’d regret.

A book rested in his hands, something he had picked up absentmindedly from the shelf near his hiding spot. He wasn’t even sure what it was about, but flipping through the pages had given him something to do.

His fingers hovered over the corner of the page, ready to turn it, when he heard it—soft footsteps approaching, barely audible against the carpeted floors.

Jake tensed.

He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. If it was one of his friends coming to tease him, or worse, someone trying to get his attention for another pointless conversation, he was going to—

But then the scent of honey and seawater hit him.

It was soft, familiar, cutting through his frustration like a breath of fresh air. Unlike the overwhelming scents he had escaped, this one simply existed, wrapping around him until his grip on the book loosened.

Then, your voice followed. “Are you okay?”

Jake froze.

Your voice was gentle, laced with concern. Not prying, but still searching. And suddenly, whatever sharp retort he had been about to throw out died in his throat.

His annoyance didn’t seem so important anymore.

Jake swallowed, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out at first. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss for words—not in meetings, not in arguments, not even when he was annoyed. But something about you being here, standing so close, made all the tension he had been carrying shift into something else.

Slowly, he lowered the book, tilting his head just enough to meet your gaze. Your expression was soft, brows slightly drawn together, not with curiosity, but with something gentler. You weren’t here to pry or gossip. You just… cared. And suddenly, his frustration felt almost childish.

“I…” he stopped himself, exhaling sharply through his nose.

He wanted to say he was fine, that it was nothing, that it was just another stupid meeting with people who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

But the words didn’t come out.

Instead, Jake leaned back against the loveseat, gaze flickering to the pages of his book as if searching for an answer.

You didn’t press him. You didn’t demand an explanation or scold him for running off like his friends probably would have. You just stood there, waiting.

And for some reason, that made him want to answer.

“I just needed some space,” he muttered eventually, his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual sharpness. He rubbed the back of his neck, finally meeting your eyes again. “Didn’t feel like dealing with anyone.”

You hummed, stepping closer. The scent of you made the last of his annoyance settle into something easier to manage.

“I figured,” you said softly. “You looked upset earlier.”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly, surprised that you had noticed. His friends might’ve caught on, but most people weren’t perceptive enough to see through his carefully crafted walls. Yet, you had.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Some beta tried challenging me mid-meeting,” he muttered, irritation creeping in before he caught himself. Shaking his head, he added, “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Jake found himself watching you instead—how you shifted slightly on your feet, how your fingers curled at your sides as if debating whether or not to reach out. The thought made something in his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Then, after a moment, you spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, but almost… grateful. He shook his head, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Nah,” he said, closing the book in his hands. “But… I don’t mind staying here for a while.”

His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, but the way your face softened told him you understood.

You hesitated before shifting your weight slightly. “Can I sit?”

Jake blinked, surprised by the question, then nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. Clearing his throat, he schooled his expression back to neutral and gestured to the spot beside him. “Yeah, of course.”

You settled down next to him, the space between you small but not suffocating. Close enough that he could feel your warmth, but not close enough to be overwhelming.

Jake exhaled slowly, feeling the last remnants of his frustration loosen in his chest. The meeting, the irritation, the unwanted attention from his admirers, it all seemed a little less important now.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the distant rustling of pages and the occasional creak of a chair as someone moved in the main area of the library. But here, hidden away behind the tall shelves, it felt like a world apart.

His fingers idly traced the book’s cover, though he wasn’t really reading. Instead, he was hyper-aware of your knee barely brushing his, your scent lingering; unexpectedly soothing.

“You always come here when you need space?” you asked after a moment, your voice soft, curious but not prying.

Jake tilted his head slightly, considering. “Not always,” he admitted. “But it’s quiet. And no one really thinks to look for me back here.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Except you, apparently.”

You smiled, nudging his arm lightly. “I had a feeling.”

The pureblooded Alpha found himself smiling back—a real one this time. Not forced, not out of politeness, but something small and genuine.

Jake eased back against the wall, shoulders finally relaxing. His fingers tapped absently on the book’s spine, but he wasn’t reading, not when your presence felt more real than the words on the page.

“You know, you always seem to know where to find me,” he mused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You shrugged, tilting your head slightly. “Maybe I just know you better than most, even if I just met you.”

The words settled between you both—not heavy, not awkward, just honest. Jake felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest, something warm.

He studied you for a second longer before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Scary thought.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, please. You’re not that complicated.”

Jake hummed, amused, but didn’t argue. Instead, he let the silence stretch again, though this time, it felt different—more comfortable. The frustration from earlier had nearly faded entirely, replaced by something far less sharp.

After a moment, you reached over, tapping your fingers lightly against the edge of his book. “So, what are you reading?”

Jake glanced down, suddenly remembering he was even holding something. He flipped the book in his hands absentmindedly before handing it over to you. “Something I grabbed off the shelf. Wasn’t really paying attention.”

You took it, skimming the cover. “Mmh, seems interesting.”

Jake scoffed lightly. “You didn’t even read anything yet.”

You grinned. “I have good intuition.”

Jake shook his head, but the amusement lingered in his eyes. He watched as you scanned the cover, the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration. He didn’t know why, but the sight of you so focused on something so simple made his chest tighten.

He looked away, clearing his throat. “You can borrow it if you want.”

You glanced up at him, lips twitching in the beginnings of a smile. “You sure? I thought you came here to read.”

Jake exhaled a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well…” He trailed off, gaze flickering to yours before looking away just as quickly. “I think I found something better to focus on.”

The words left his mouth before he could really think about them, and Jake nearly winced at himself. But then you laughed, soft and light—and the tension in his shoulders eased.

You nudged him again, a touch more lingering this time. “Flatterer.”

Jake smirked. “Just saying.”

You tapped your fingers against the book’s spine, tilting your head slightly as you considered something. Then, with an easy smile, you turned to Jake.

“Wanna read it together?”

Jake blinked, caught off guard. “Together?”

You nodded, flipping the book open and patting the space between you both. “Yeah. You said you weren’t really paying attention when you picked it, right? So why not give it a proper chance?”

Jake hesitated for a second, then exhaled through his nose, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

You grinned. “Not when I know it’s a good idea.”

Shaking his head, Jake shifted slightly, leaning in just enough so he could read over your shoulder as you settled into the first few pages. The closeness wasn’t something he was used to—at least, not like this. It wasn’t suffocating. Instead, it felt warm, your scent wrapping around him in a way that slowly untangled the tension from his limbs.

For a few minutes, the only sound between you both was the quiet rustle of pages turning. Then—

“Oh my god,” you murmured, biting back a laugh.

Jake glanced at you, brow furrowed. “What?”

You pointed at a line of dialogue, barely able to hold in your giggle. “My love for you burns like the eternal sun, scorching and unyielding in its devotion.”

You turned to him, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Scorching and unyielding?”

Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I knew I picked up something weird.”

You nudged him playfully. “No, no, this is great. Keep reading.”

Jake huffed but followed along as you continued. Another dramatic line came up, something about hearts entwining like ivy around stone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“You’re laughing,” Jake accused, though his tone was more fond than annoyed.

You nodded, grinning. “Because this is so overly dramatic. Do people actually talk like this?”

Jake smirked, flipping the page. “Maybe in, like, the 1800s.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Jake. I think you should take notes. Maybe next time you wanna woo an Omega, try saying, ‘My devotion to you is like the tides, endless and drawn to the moon’s call.’”

Jake nearly choked. “Absolutely not.”

Your laughter echoed softly through the library’s quiet corners, warm and easy. Jake grinned despite himself, the bitterness in his scent from earlier fading entirely, replaced by something softer, warm oranges and fresh pine, subtle but there.

You inhaled lightly, the change making your chest flutter just a bit. Without thinking, you smiled.

Jake noticed.

His gaze flickered to you, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “What?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

Jake wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he let the moment settle, let the warmth of your laughter and the ridiculous book between you both fill the space.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically, flipping another page. “Let’s see just how much worse this gets.”

For a while, you read in silence, the occasional rustle of a page the only sound. The library's soft glow wrapped your hidden corner in warmth, making it feel even more secluded, like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you.

Jake found himself enjoying the book despite its overly dramatic writing, maybe because you were reading it too. Your amused huffs and quiet comments made it more entertaining than it should have been. But after a while, he noticed something.

You had grown quiet.

Too quiet.

Jake subtly glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips twitching when he realized what was happening. Your blinks were getting slower, your posture more relaxed, and the way your fingers had stopped fidgeting with the edge of the page told him—without a doubt—you were dozing off.

He let out a breathless chuckle, barely a sound, shaking his head. You really do have a way of catching me off guard, huh?

For a moment, he debated waking you, but something about the peaceful look on your face stopped him. Instead, Jake hesitated for only a second before moving carefully.

With the gentleness only a pureblooded Alpha raised on traditional etiquette could have, he shifted ever so slightly, angling his shoulder toward you. Then, just as lightly, he guided your head to rest against him.

You stirred for the briefest moment, instinctively snuggling a little closer to his side.

Jake immediately froze. His whole body tensed.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was ridiculous, but the warmth of you against him, the way your scent wrapped around him so effortlessly, made his thoughts stumble.

He swallowed, exhaling slowly through his nose, trying to will away the sudden tightness in his chest. This is fine. It’s nothing.

You were just tired. And he was just being considerate. That’s what an Alpha was supposed to do, right? Protect, provide comfort, ensure safety.

So why did it feel like something far more intimate?

He swallowed, forcing himself to focus on the book still open in his lap. The words blurred slightly as his mind reeled, but he kept reading anyway, if only to distract himself from the fact that you were resting against him, trusting him enough to do so.

Outside, the library remained as quiet as ever. The world carried on.

But for Jake, sitting there in the dim light, your soft breathing evening out against his side, something shifted.

And he wasn’t sure he could ever shift it back.

Your breath was steady, your warmth pressed lightly against him, and for a moment, Jake thought you had fully drifted off.

But then, just as he was about to return his attention to the book, you stirred slightly, shifting against his side.

Your voice, quiet and laced with sleep, barely broke the hush of the library.

"Wake me up in fifteen minutes?"

You mumbled the words, your voice slurring just the tiniest bit.

Jake stilled.

He looked down at you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheek, your breathing slow and deep. The way you said it—so trusting, so unguarded—made something warm unfurl in his chest.

He exhaled softly, barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the tenderness in his voice when he responded.

"Sure, omega. Sure."

It was the softest he had ever spoken. The gentlest he had ever let himself be.

Jake didn’t know if you heard it, if your drowsy mind even registered the way his voice had dipped into something almost tame.

But he didn’t care.

Because as you let out a content sigh, sinking just a little bit further into his side, he knew one thing for certain—

Fifteen minutes wouldn't be enough.

The library stayed still, the only sound a distant rustle of pages. Late afternoon light streamed through tall windows, casting a warm glow over your hidden corner.

Jake, who had only meant to let you rest for fifteen minutes, had somehow drifted off himself.

His breathing was even, his frame relaxed, and without realizing it, he had shifted closer. His head had dipped, resting atop yours, while your body had curled just slightly into his side.

The scent of oranges and pine surrounded you, warmer now, softened by sleep, no longer laced with the bitterness from earlier.

For the first time that day, everything felt at peace.

Until your eyelids fluttered open.

You blinked slowly, your body still heavy with sleep. The warmth against you registered first, followed by the weight on your head. It took your drowsy mind a moment to process that Jake had fallen asleep, too—that you had both somehow ended up nestled against each other.

Your cheeks warmed instantly.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted, his uniform brushing against your skin. Slowly, you reached into your skirt pocket, fingers curling around your phone. You turned the screen on—

And immediately panicked.

You had overslept.

By an hour.

Your breath hitched, and you nearly jolted upright, but Jake stirred at the movement, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

You froze.

His head shifted slightly against yours before settling once more, his arm now loosely resting against your side, as if unconsciously keeping you in place.

Your heart was practically in your throat.

You should wake him up. You needed to wake him up.

You hesitated, phone still clutched in your hand as you weighed your options.

Jake was still fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady, completely at ease for the first time all day.

Something about that made you pause.

Carefully, despite the awkward angle, you tilted your head up just slightly—just enough to get a proper look at him.

And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Up close, he looked softer, more serene than the composed, ever-efficient student council secretary he always presented himself as. His brows, usually furrowed in focus, were relaxed. His long lashes rested gently against his skin, and his lips, often pressed into a firm line, were now slightly parted.

Even his scent of warm oranges and fresh pine seemed calmer now, no longer edged with irritation or exhaustion.

You swallowed, feeling your heart skip a beat.

Jake had always been handsome, but there was something about seeing him like this, unguarded, peaceful—that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle.

The logical part of you knew you had to wake him up. It was already late, and staying like this any longer would only make things worse.

But a part of you, the part that wasn’t ready to let go of this warmth just yet, hesitated.

He just looked so… at peace.

Yet you let out a soft sigh before gently nudging his shoulder. “Jake,” you murmured, voice hushed in the quiet of the library.

He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping him as his lashes fluttered, struggling against the remnants of sleep. His brows furrowed, and he shifted, blinking a few times as if trying to register where he was.

Then, his body tensed.

The realization of just how close you were hit him all at once—your warmth pressed against his side, your head resting against his shoulder, his own head tilted atop yours. His breath hitched as he sat up slightly, eyes widening.

“S—Sorry,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You waved a hand, amused. “It’s fine. You looked like you needed that rest.”

Jake blinked, processing your words before exhaling, ruffling his already tousled hair. “Shit… What time is it?”

“Almost six,” you replied, stretching slightly.

His eyes widened slightly as he ran a hand through his hair again, the weight of lost time settling in. “Shit. Did I keep you in here? Don’t you have anything to do?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s a different student covering the night shift," you explained. “Library closes at eight anyway.”

Jake hummed in acknowledgment, but then you sighed, leaning back slightly.

“Great,” you muttered sarcastically.

Jake frowned. “What?”

You huffed. “I have no one to pick me up.”

Jake blinked at you for a moment before tilting his head, expression unreadable. “Huh?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just studying you, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered.

The Alpha tilted his head slightly, brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, why don’t you just drive?”

You blinked at him before letting out a small laugh, shaking your head. “My car isn't here.”

Jake still looked puzzled. “Don’t you have a driver?”

You sighed, leaning back against the loveseat. “It’s my designated driver’s day off,” you explained. “So, I had to hitch a ride with a friend this morning.”

Jake hummed, nodding slowly, but when you casually mentioned her name, his eyes flickered with surprise.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “You’re friends with Heeseung’s mate?”

You nodded with a small smile, amused by the way his expression changed, like he was processing that information and filing it away for later. “Yeah,” you replied. “We’ve been close for a while.”

Jake let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Huh. Small world.”

“You sound surprised,” you teased, raising a brow at him.

He shrugged, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “I mean, kind of? I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know," he admitted. “It’s just—Heeseung’s mate is usually around him or the others. I’ve never really seen her with you.”

You grinned. “That’s because we hang out outside of school.”

Jake let out an amused huff. “Figures.” He leaned back against the bookshelf, arms crossed. “So, you really have no way of getting home?”

You sighed dramatically, resting your head against the back of the loveseat. “Nope. Stuck here until I figure something out.”

Jake clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s great,” he muttered, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Right?” you replied, just as sarcastically. “Super great. Love this for me.”

Jake shifted in his seat, hesitating for a moment. You watched as his fingers tapped idly against his arm, his lips pressing into a thin line like he was debating something in his head.

Then, finally, he sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. “I could drive you,” he said, but there was an unusual softness to his voice, like he was testing the waters.

You blinked up at him, caught slightly off guard. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, but he looked like he was second-guessing himself. “I mean—only if you’re okay with that. If you’d rather call someone else or wait, that’s fine, too.” He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes gave him away. “I just figured… it’d be better than being stuck here.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to accept, but because he looked unsure, like he wanted to help but didn’t want to overstep.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head. “No, I mean—if you’re offering, I won’t say no.”

Jake exhaled, something in his posture easing at your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “That would actually be really helpful.”

His lips quirked up slightly, and he nodded. “Alright. Let’s get out of here, then.”

Jake stood up from the leather loveseat, stretching his arms slightly before turning to you with a playful glint in his eyes. With an exaggerated gesture, he extended his hand toward you, palm up, and dipped his head slightly.

“After you, (Y/N)—the ever-so-pretty Omega,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock formality.

You laughed, rolling your eyes but still taking his hand as you played along. “Why, thank you, my kind Alpha," you replied, matching his tone with an amused smirk.

As your fingers briefly brushed against his, Jake let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re something else,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words—only a quiet fondness he wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge yet.

As you both stepped outside the hidden reading nook, the warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the library windows. The golden light painted long shadows across the floor, making the whole place feel even more serene.

Just as you reached the front doors, you suddenly stopped and turned to Jake. “Wait here for a second,” you told him, motioning for him to stay put.

Jake furrowed his brows. “Where are you going?”

You pointed toward the reception desk. “I need to grab my bag. I’ll be quick.”

He nodded, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched you jog over. You made your way to the desk, where the student taking over the night shift was already setting up for her hours ahead. She glanced up as you approached, blinking in surprise before a teasing grin spread across her face.

“So… you and Jake, huh?” she mused, raising a knowing brow as she handed you your bag.

You blinked before letting out a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, please,” you scoffed. “It’s not like that.”

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure. You do know he’s waiting for you by the door like a damn gentleman, right? That’s Alpha behavior if I’ve ever seen it.”

You rolled your eyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “He’s just giving me a ride home. That’s all.”

She smirked, resting her chin on her palm. “Mhm. And I’m just a regular student who doesn’t notice things.”

Shaking your head, you turned away, laughing under your breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder.

“Tell Jake I said hi,” she teased back, making you shake your head again with a smile as you returned to the entrance.

Jake glanced at you as you rejoined him. “Took you long enough,” he said, though there was no actual bite to his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Patience, Jake.”

He scoffed, but then reached out, tugging your bag off your shoulder before you could react. “Here, let me.”

You blinked at him. “Jake, I can carry my own bag.”

“I know,” he said easily, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing. “But I want to.”

He pushed open the library doors with a smirk. “Let’s get going.”

You only grinned, stepping outside beside him, the air crisp as the last remnants of daylight clung to the sky.

The car ride home was comfortable, the kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward, just easy. The city lights flickered past as the sky deepened into shades of navy, the last traces of sunset fading beyond the horizon.

You sat snugly in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward Jake as he drove with practiced ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gear shift.

“So, mate,” you said, attempting your best Australian accent, dragging the word out obnoxiously. “Where we headin’, aye?”

Jake nearly choked on his laughter. “Oh my god, what was that?”

“My perfect Aussie impression,” you grinned.

He shot you a look, lips twitching. “That was a crime against my entire country.”

“Oi,” you protested, making your voice deeper. “That’s offensive, innit?”

Jake shook his head, amused. “Now you just sound British.”

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Jake just grinned, shaking his head as he made a turn.

“Take a left up here,” you directed, still giggling.

He followed without question, and as the road stretched out before you, the surroundings became quieter, lined with trees and distant estate homes. Soon, large iron gates loomed ahead.

Jake whistled lowly. “Fancy.”

You snorted, shooting him a look before gesturing around the car’s sleek interior. “Oh, please. Stop acting like you’re not used to the same lifestyle.”

Jake smirked, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Okay, fair point,” he admitted. “But you have to admit, this is some next-level rich.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Says the guy driving a literal sports car.”

Jake chuckled, tapping the wheel. “Touché.”

The soft purr of the engine filled the space as the car eased forward, headlights illuminating the long road ahead. Soon, the massive gates loomed before you, standing tall and pristine under the dimming sky.

Jake took it in, lips quirking. “Still fancy.”

You hummed, reaching for the intercom, but at the last second, an idea sparked. You smirked and leaned back. “You do it.”

Jake raised a brow. “Me?”

You nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Just say… special delivery.”

He gave you a look, but the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. With a small shake of his head, he rolled down the window and pressed the call button. A second later, a static click sounded.

“Special delivery,” Jake said smoothly, voice rich with amusement.

There was a brief pause—then, with a soft beep, the gates creaked open.

You burst out laughing, leaning back in your seat. Jake just shook his head as he pulled forward, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” he mused. “That it actually worked or that you set me up for it.”

“You just have that kind of voice,” you teased, still grinning.

Jake smirked, flicking his gaze toward you. “Oh yeah? You like my voice that much?”

You groaned, reaching over to shove his arm. “Drive, Sim.”

As the gates opened fully, Jake eased the car forward, and the moment you passed through, the estate unfolded before him like something straight out of a movie.

The long driveway was paved with smooth cobblestone, flanked by lush, towering trees that cast intricate shadows beneath the soft glow of vintage-style street lamps.

Vibrant flower beds lined the path, a carefully curated mix of imported and native flora blooming in perfect harmony. The air smelled fresh, carried by the evening breeze.

Jake let out a low whistle as he took in the sight, his fingers drumming against the wheel. “Alright, I take it back. This is next-level rich.”

You smirked, watching his expression shift as you approached the heart of the estate. “Mhmm.”

The trees eventually gave way to a pristine white mansion that stood tall against the twilight sky. The grand structure was illuminated by soft golden lights, casting a warm glow against the cool evening.

Right in the middle of the circular driveway, a massive, intricately designed fountain stood proudly, water cascading from its tiers in a soothing rhythm.

Jake’s gaze flicked to the various luxury and imported sports cars parked carelessly around the front, some you recognized as your family’s, others belonging to guests or relatives who were likely visiting.

At that, Jake let out a scoff, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Okay, now this just reminds me of our house.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly as you glanced at him. “Told you.”

He snorted. “Our parents really went all out, didn’t they?”

“They always do.” You sighed, leaning back into your seat. “Big houses, big cars, big expectations.”

Jake glanced at you briefly before turning back to the road, guiding the car toward the entrance. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice softer. “Big everything.”

There was a moment of silence, the quiet hum of the car filling the space.

Then, in true Jake fashion, he smirked. “But, to be fair, at least we’re not the ones worrying about car maintenance.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Small mercies, Sim. Small mercies.”

Before you could even reach for the door handle, Jake suddenly clicked his tongue. “Nope.”

You blinked at him just as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out in one swift motion. His door shut with a quiet thud, and within seconds, he was already rounding the front of the car, effortlessly smooth as always.

The moment he pulled open the passenger door for you, he grinned. “Go on, princess. Fancy estates require fancy treatment.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head in amusement as you took his offered hand and stepped out onto the driveway. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, you keep me around,” he quipped, the corners of his eyes crinkling with that familiar, boyish smile.

Before you could fire back a response, the large wooden doors of the mansion suddenly swung open. The warm glow of the foyer lights spilled onto the marble steps, casting long shadows across the pristine entryway.

Standing in the doorway was your mother, poised yet undeniably elegant, dressed in a silk blouse and tailored pants. The usual sharpness in her gaze was softened, just slightly—with both worry and amusement as her eyes flickered between you and Jake, who was still casually holding your hand.

Her lips quirked up the slightest bit. “Well,” she mused, arms crossing. “It seems you’ve had quite the evening.”

Jake, ever the charmer, straightened up, offering a polite yet playful smile. “Good evening, Mrs. (L/N),” he greeted smoothly, his posture changing into something more formal yet undeniably confident.

You, on the other hand, simply sighed and shot him a look before turning to your mother. “Mom, please don’t start.”

Your mother let out a light laugh, though her eyes still held traces of concern. “I wasn’t going to.” Then, her gaze flickered to Jake’s sleek black sports car parked in the driveway. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t arrive in something flashier, Mr. Sim.”

Jake blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, how do you know me?”

Your mother let out a soft laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, Jake, dear. I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”

You and Jake exchanged equally confused glances before looking back at her.

Your mother smirked knowingly. “Your parents and I have been friends for years. We see each other at events all the time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

Jake scoffed in disbelief, rubbing the back of his neck. “Huh. Well, that’s news to me.” Then, he turned to you, raising a brow. “Did you know about this?”

You simply shrugged. “Nope.”

Jake let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Your mother, still thoroughly entertained, placed a hand on her hip. “Well, now that we’ve established that, how about you join us for dinner? I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Jake straightened slightly, shifting into that polite, well-mannered version of himself that only surfaced in formal settings. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am,” he said smoothly, voice respectful but firm. “But my parents are expecting me back home soon.”

Your mother hummed, nodding in understanding. “That’s a shame. Maybe next time, then.”

“Definitely,” Jake agreed with a small grin before turning back to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah. Drive safe, Jake.”

He gave you a two-finger salute before slipping back into his sleek black sports car. The engine purred to life, the sound low and smooth, as he backed out of the pristine driveway.

You didn’t move, not even when the taillights faded into the distance. You waited until his car was completely out of sight before finally turning toward the open doorway.

The moment you stepped inside, your mother wasted no time.

“So,” she drawled, shutting the door behind you with a smirk that spelled nothing but trouble. “Jake Sim, huh?”

You sighed. “Mom.”

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence as she followed you further into the house. “He’s handsome. And he clearly dotes on you.”

“Mom.”

“Oh, and the way he opened the door for you? Adorable.”

You sighed dramatically, running a hand through your hair as you kicked off your shoes by the entrance. “Mom, I just met him—literally today.”

Your mother raised a perfectly manicured brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the grand staircase railing. The warm chandelier light made the gold accents of her jewelry glint as she smirked at you. “Well, he certainly doesn’t act like it,” she quipped. “That boy was looking at you like an Alpha who’s been courting you for years.”

Your jaw dropped. “Mom! That is not—”

She cut you off with a knowing laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, sweetheart, please. The way he opened your door? The way he stood just a little too close while you were talking?” She shook her head with mock disbelief. “And you’re telling me you just met?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I swear, you’re worse than Dad.”

Your mom gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Excuse me?” Then, with a knowing smile, she added, “Speaking of your father, I’m pretty sure he’d approve of Jake.”

You stared at her, utterly exasperated. “Oh my god.”

She grinned. “What? He’s well-mannered, respectful, and from a good family. Plus, he drives a nice car. You know how your father feels about cars.”

You groaned louder, turning on your heel. “I’m going to bed before you start planning our wedding.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me!” she called out, amusement laced in her voice. Then, just as you reached your door, she added, “You'd make a cute pair, don’t you think?”

You slammed your door shut as her laughter echoed down the hall.

Lunch had just begun, and the halls buzzed with the usual midday energy, students spilling out of classrooms, voices overlapping, shoes scuffing against the polished floors. Jake walked alongside his usual group, all casually making their way toward the cafeteria.

“Man, I am starving,” Jay groaned, stretching his arms. “What’s for lunch today?”

“Something fancy, probably,” Sunghoon replied with a shrug. “They said it’s steak.”

Ni-ki perked up at that. “Oh, hell yeah.”

“I hope it’s actually good steak,” Sunoo chimed in, adjusting his bag strap. “Not the rubbery kind they sometimes serve.”

The group chuckled, but Jake wasn’t paying much attention. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his gaze subtly scanning the hallway. It wasn’t obvious, he wasn’t desperate or anything, but he noticed the lack of a certain presence.

You weren’t there. It was weird. He hadn’t even known you for that long, yet your absence was noticeable.

His phone remained silent in his pocket, no texts or missed calls from you.

“Hey, we’re going,” Jungwon called over his shoulder as the group neared the cafeteria entrance.

Jake hesitated. “Actually,” he said, slowing his steps, “I need to finish up some paperwork. I’ll eat later.”

That got their attention.

Sunoo immediately narrowed his eyes. “You always say that.”

“Yeah, bro, what’s new?” Heeseung added, shaking his head.

Jay sighed, already tired. “Dude, just go. We all know you won’t eat properly if you’re buried in council work.”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon agreed. “We’d rather deal with you now than later when you’re sleep-deprived and grumpy.”

Jake waved them off lazily. “Yeah, yeah,” he shot them a grin before turning in the opposite direction. But instead of heading toward the council office, he found himself walking toward the library.

The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere was different, it was quieter, calmer, with the faint scent of books in the air. His sharp eyes scanned the room, expecting to find you tucked away in your usual corner.

But you weren’t there.

He frowned slightly.

Instead, his gaze landed on the student librarian at the front desk, the same one who had seen you leaving with him last night. She noticed him instantly, and before he could even say a word, a slow, knowing grin stretched across her face.

Jake narrowed his eyes. He already didn’t like that look. “Where is she?” he asked, his tone neutral but firm.

The grin only widened. “Oh? Looking for someone, Sim?”

Jake exhaled sharply, unimpressed. “Her classroom. What floor?”

The student hummed, resting her chin on her palm. “And why would I tell you that?”

Jake leveled her with a flat stare. “Because I’m asking nicely.”

She clicked her tongue, dragging out the moment just to mess with him.

“Third floor,” she finally relented, her grin turning smug. “Room 3-A.”

Jake didn’t waste another second. Without another word, he turned on his heel, already making his way out.

But even as he left, he could still hear her barely suppressed laughter behind him.

Jake wasn’t the type to go looking for people. If anything, people usually came looking for him, whether it was for council matters, social obligations, or just random confessions.

But today, instead of heading to lunch with the boys, he found himself climbing the stairs to the third floor, hands tucked into his pockets.

The student librarian had given him your classroom number with an all-too-knowing grin, and now, standing outside the door to Room 3-A, he was met with a scene that made him pause.

You were surrounded.

Not just by one or two people, but by half the classroom. Some perched on desks, others standing, leaning in with animated grins as they listened intently to whatever you were saying.

Laughter echoed through the space, loud and infectious. It wasn’t just that you were well-liked, it was that you owned the room without even trying.

The crowd, the attention, the way people gravitated toward you—it wasn’t new. And yet, as his eyes settled on you, a thought crept into his mind.

Did you even notice him standing there?

But then, as if you could sense him, your gaze snapped toward the doorway.

And suddenly, the noise faded into the background.

Despite being completely engrossed in conversation, despite the people practically surrounding you, your focus changed entirely. Your lips, still curled mid-laugh, softened into something more curious.

Jake hadn’t even taken a full step inside before you were already pushing yourself up from your seat, murmuring brief apologies to your friends as you effortlessly slipped through the crowd.

You reached him within seconds, tilting your head with a knowing smile. “Didn’t see you in the library.”

Jake’s lips twitched. “Yeah, well. That’s ‘cause you weren’t there.”

A teasing glint flashed in your eyes. “So you were looking for me.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Something like that.”

Behind you, a whistle cut through the air. “Damn,” one of your classmates muttered. “Didn’t think Sim was into you.”

Jake didn’t acknowledge the comment, but he didn’t need to. You rolled your eyes before half-turning to shoot them an unimpressed look. “Oh, shut up.”

When you turned back, Jake was still watching you.

His gaze flickered over your face, assessing, before he finally tilted his head slightly. “You free?”

You blinked. “For?”

“Lunch.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“You’re inviting me to lunch?” you asked, amusement evident in your tone.

Jake smirked, rocking back on his heels. “I know. Big honor.”

You scoffed, playfully smacking his arm. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Maybe.” He nodded toward the door. “C’mon.”

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly before casting a glance over your shoulder—because, of course, your classmates were still very much watching. Some wore wide grins, others exchanged glances, and a few were whispering among themselves.

“Guess I’ll be back later,” you announced, sending them a wink before turning back to Jake.

And just like that, he was leading you out the door, the sound of hushed murmurs and not-so-subtle giggles trailing behind you.

The cafeteria was alive with the hum of conversation, the clatter of trays, and the occasional burst of laughter from groups of students huddled around their tables. The sheer size of the place should have made it feel open, but with the lunchtime rush in full swing, it felt like everyone was packed in shoulder to shoulder.

Jake barely hesitated before placing his hand on the small of your back again, guiding you through the crowd with effortless ease. It was instinctual, like he had to make sure you weren’t swallowed up in the mass of students.

The heat of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of your uniform, grounding and steady, but most of all, familiar.

You didn’t move away.

You didn’t want to.

If anything, your body naturally gravitated closer to him, and that realization alone sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Jake, of course, was completely unbothered. He wasn’t even looking at you, his gaze flickered across the cafeteria, scanning the area, before muttering, “You’d think with a cafeteria this big, it wouldn’t feel so cramped.”

His voice was casual, like he wasn’t currently touching you like it was second nature.

You swallowed, trying to will away the warmth creeping up your neck. “What, don’t tell me you’re scared of a little crowd, Sim?”

Jake scoffed, glancing at you with a smirk. “Scared? No. Annoyed? Absolutely.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Such a prince, huh? What’s next? Gonna demand a private table?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You gave him a look, lips twitching. “Wow. I thought you were the chill one in your group.”

Jake placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I am chill.”

You raised a brow. “You’re literally guiding me through a cafeteria like we’re dodging landmines.”

He shot you a lazy grin. “That’s not me being not chill. That’s me making sure you don’t trip over some random first year’s backpack.”

You snorted. “Sure, Sim. Whatever you say.”

The line moved forward, and Jake’s hand, still warm and very much there, pressed just slightly, nudging you along with him.

The air between you two was light, playful, but underlined with something else, something neither of you was fully acknowledging yet.

Jake didn’t remove his hand, and you… well, you let him.

The line continued moving, and when you finally reached the food counter, he casually leaned in a little closer. “What are you getting?” The way his voice dipped slightly, like he was asking something personal, made your stomach flip.

You blinked, shaking yourself out of it. “Uh. Probably just whatever they have today.”

Jake raised a brow, amused. “That’s not very specific.”

You shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Right. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake only smirked, looking far too smug for your liking. “Nothing, nothing.”

“No, say it.” You crossed your arms, facing him fully now.

He exhaled a laugh, tilting his head slightly. “I just feel like you have your little food preferences. Probably avoid certain textures. Maybe you don’t like overly salty stuff?”

You blinked. “…Okay, but how do you know that?”

Jake’s smirk widened. “So I am right?”

You clicked your tongue, rolling your eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. If anything, the fact that he’d picked up on something so small about you after barely a day of knowing you was a little too endearing.

Jake, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself.

The two of you finally reached the counter, and just as you were about to grab a tray, Jake casually plucked one up first—then handed it to you.

His fingers barely brushed against yours, but it was enough to send a jolt of awareness through your entire arm.

Your breath hitched.

Jake, however, was unfazed. “See? Not picky, but definitely predictable.”

You scoffed, snatching the tray from his hands. “I hate you.”

Jake just grinned. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

The two of you moved through the rest of the line with that same easy back-and-forth, Jake making little comments about your food choices while you shot back with equally teasing remarks. By the time you had your trays and turned toward the seating area, you realized something—

Most of the tables were already packed.

Clusters of students filled every available space, some standing and chatting with friends, others laughing loudly, their voices echoing through the massive cafeteria.

Jake scanned the room briefly, his sharp eyes flicking over the crowd before they landed on a relatively empty table tucked into a corner near one of the large windows. He didn’t hesitate—just placed his free hand on the small of your back again and guided you toward it without a word.

Your breath caught for a split second, but you didn’t pull away.

It was so effortless, the way he touched you—like he’d done it a million times before, like it was just natural for him to steer you through a crowded space. The warmth of his palm against your lower back was firm but not forceful, steadying yet entirely casual.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

Maybe a little too much.

You felt your face heating up again, but before you could dwell on it, Jake spoke.

“Looks like the guys disappeared on me,” he mused as you both reached the table, setting his tray down before pulling out a chair for you.

The gesture was so smooth, so instinctive, that it took you a second to react.

You blinked at him. “…Are you always this much of a gentleman?”

Jake let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned slightly over the chair. “Only for people who don’t make me carry both our trays.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you sat down. “I could’ve carried my own, you know.”

Jake simply shrugged, taking his seat across from you. “Sure. But where’s the fun in that?”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head before picking up your utensils. “Anyway, maybe your friends just assumed you’d be too busy drowning in council work to eat. You are kind of a workaholic.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he unwrapped his utensils. “Oh? And you know this how?”

You gave him a pointed look. “You just told me earlier that you literally ditched them earlier by saying you had to ‘finish up papers.’”

Jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Technically, I didn’t lie. I do have papers to go through later.”

You snorted. “Right. And you just so happened to show up at my classroom instead.”

Jake’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a casual bite of his food. “Just a coincidence.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mhm. Sure.”

He grinned. “What, can’t a guy take a break and conveniently end up where you are?”

Your fork paused midair.

The teasing lilt in his voice was undeniable, but there was something else there, something almost too deliberate in the way he said it. Like he wanted you to catch it. Like he was testing the waters.

And the worst part? It was working.

You quickly stuffed a bite of food into your mouth to distract from the way your stomach flipped at his words.

Jake just chuckled, clearly entertained by your reaction.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the chatter of the cafeteria buzzing around you. The corner you’d picked was quieter, a little more secluded, with sunlight streaming through the large windows beside you. It was… oddly peaceful.

Then, out of nowhere, Jake spoke again.

“I meant what I said, by the way.”

You glanced up, chewing slowly. “…About what?”

His eyes held yours. “That I don’t mind this.”

You swallowed. “This?”

Jake rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his hand. “Eating with you.”

Your heartbeat stuttered.

It was such a simple statement, but the way he said it, the way he looked at you when he did—yeah, you were in trouble.

You quickly looked down at your plate, pretending to focus on your food.

Instead of commenting, he just smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly before picking up his fork again.

But the knowing glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

And damn it, you had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

The afternoon sun stretched golden across the field, casting a warm glow over the wide expanse of green. A light breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the crisp scent of grass and the faintest traces of sweat as Jake and Sunghoon tossed the football back and forth.

It was their free period, a rare chance to unwind and let their inner Alphas stretch a little without the weight of expectations pressing down on them.

Jake rolled his shoulders, catching the ball with ease before spinning it in his hands. “Think you can handle a real pass this time?”

Sunghoon scoffed, adjusting his stance. “Think you can throw one?”

Jake smirked, cocking his arm back and sending the ball soaring through the air—

But the second it left his hands, so did every ounce of his focus.

Your scent.

It drifted through the open halls beside the field, laced with something warm that settled into his chest like second nature. Jake’s head turned on instinct, drawn toward the source before he could even process why.

And there you were.

Walking side by side with Jungwon’s mate, your laughter trailing through the breeze.

Jake barely registered the thud of the football landing in Sunghoon’s grip. His attention was fixed entirely on you, the way you were so effortlessly blending into his world without even trying.

He felt something shift inside him, soft, warm, and dangerously easy to get used to.

Because it wasn’t just that it was you, though that alone was enough to mess with his pulse. It was the fact that you were comfortable, that you were talking and laughing with Jungwon’s mate, someone who had already been claimed, someone who was already part of the pack in a way that felt permanent.

And for some reason, seeing you like this, seeing you so naturally fall into step with people who had already been solidified in his life, it made something deep inside him settle.

Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Like you belonged here.

Sunghoon’s voice barely cut through his daze. “Finally, a decent throw.”

Jake blinked, shaking himself out of it, but the warmth in his chest didn’t fade.

His hand twitched at his side, itching to reach for something, to act on something—but he didn’t even know what. His Alpha stirred, entirely content just from the sight of you.

He swallowed thickly. Then, suddenly, he was moving.

“I gotta—” Jake’s voice came out rushed, unsteady, as he took a step back. “Bathroom.”

Sunghoon didn’t even glance at him, too busy tossing the ball in the air. “Sure, whatever.”

Jake was already halfway across the field, already walking toward you.

The moment Jake started walking, he knew there was no stopping himself.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, his body just moved, drawn toward you like an invisible force had wrapped itself around his chest and tugged.

You hadn’t even noticed him yet, too caught up in whatever conversation you were having. Your expression was relaxed, your smile easy. The sight made something in Jake unravel, it was stupid, really, how soft he felt over something so simple.

But then, as if you could feel him coming, you glanced up.

Your eyes met his, and Jake swore he felt his heart stumble. Recognition flashed across your face, quickly followed by a small, surprised smile. “Jake?”

Jungwon’s mate turned as well, blinking in confusion. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here?”

Jake barely acknowledged her, his attention locked solely on you. “Free period,” he said, voice smooth but just a little quieter than usual. “I was training with Sunghoon.”

Your gaze flickered past him toward the field, where Sunghoon was still casually tossing the football in the air, completely unbothered.

“And now?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jake huffed a small breath, as if he hadn’t just abandoned practice the second he caught your scent. “Now I’m here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For?”

Jake hesitated for half a second, then shrugged, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips. “For you.”

Your breath hitched just slightly, but Jake caught it. And so did his inner Alpha, the presence inside him practically preening at the reaction.

Jungwon’s mate, completely noticing the tension settling between you two, let out a knowing hum. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She shot you a teasing look before waving. “See you later!”

You barely managed a nod before they slipped away, leaving you and Jake standing there, just looking at each other.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, slowly, Jake took another step closer, close enough that your scent wrapped around him fully. Close enough that he could see the faint pink dusting your cheeks, the way your fingers twitched slightly at your sides.

“Where are you headed?” he asked, his voice smooth, casual. Like he wasn’t completely invading your plans right now.

You tried to answer. Really, you did. But your brain was malfunctioning.

Because—goddamn.

Jake wasn’t in his usual navy blazer, and the absence of it shouldn’t have been this distracting, but it was. His white button-up was slightly rumpled, the top few buttons left undone, exposing just a hint of skin. His tie was loosened around his neck, his sleeves lazily rolled up to his elbows, and worst of all—his scent was stronger than ever.

The crisp bite of pine mixed with the warmth of oranges, fresh and intoxicating, like stepping into the woods after a summer rain. It wrapped around you, pulled you in, made your head feel lighter..

You swallowed, forcing your eyes forward before you got caught staring. “Uh—” Get it together, damn it. “Library.”

Jake hummed, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked beside you. “Studying?”

“Something like that,” you muttered, still trying to focus on walking and not the way his arm brushed yours every now and then.

Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. “You okay?”

No. Absolutely not.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jake tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze. “No reason. You just seem… distracted.”

You almost scowled. He knew. Of course he knew. His Alpha was probably reveling in it, preening at the fact that his scent was affecting you this much.

“Must be the heat,” you lied, pressing your lips together.

Jake exhaled a quiet laugh, low and knowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse jump.

The Alpha barely gave you a second to react before he was reaching for the books in your arms, smoothly plucking them from your grasp like they weren’t heavy at all.

“Jake—” You blinked, startled.

“You look like you’re about to drop these,” he said simply, adjusting the books against his hip with one arm. The other hand went to your shoulder, sliding the strap of your very, very girly bag off like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Jake, that’s—”

He swung the bag onto his shoulder without even flinching.

It was pastel. It had bows. A tiny stuffed bear keychain dangled from the zipper, and the fabric smelled very obviously like you.

Jake didn’t even blink.

You, on the other hand, were short-circuiting. “What,” you finally choked out.

Jake peered down at you, unfazed. “What?”

You pointed, staring at the bag hanging on his shoulder. “That.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “What about it?”

“Jake, you’re holding my bag.”

Another shrug. “And?”

You stared at him. “It has bows.”

Jake smirked. “Cute.”

Your brain stopped functioning. “It’s pink.”

“Your point?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands flying up in exasperation. “You don’t care?”

Jake raised a brow. “Why would I?”

You huffed, actually huffed as you let your arms fall to your sides. “Because—because you’re literally walking around like that, unbothered, like you don’t have my pink, bow-covered, stuffed-animal-having bag slung over your shoulder—”

Jake leaned down a little, smirking. “Would it bother you if I cared?”

You gaped at him, caught completely off guard.

You hated how easily he did that, how easily he could flip the entire conversation on its head and make you feel ridiculous for even bringing it up.

“No,” you muttered, pressing your lips together. “It wouldn’t.”

Jake chuckled. “Then it’s not a problem, is it?”

And just like that, he straightened up, walking like he wasn’t carrying an entire armful of your things, including your very feminine, very obvious bag.

You? You were still recovering.

And somehow, you just knew, from the way Jake’s scent curled around you in smug amusement, from the way his lips kept twitching at your stunned silence—yeah, he was enjoying every second of this.

Jake didn’t even spare a glance back toward the field. Whatever Sunghoon was thinking, probably something along the lines of: where the hell did he go?

He should have gone back. He should have at least tossed Sunghoon a quick text to say he got caught up. But the moment he saw you, saw the way you were laughing with Jungwon’s mate, saw the way the sunlight hit your face just right, any thought of returning to training vanished.

Sunghoon would figure it out. Eventually.

The next day, the moment the final bell rang, the hallway buzzed with noise, students shuffling to their lockers, conversations overlapping, and plans forming for the rest of the afternoon.

Jake stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders as he walked alongside Heeseung. “Man, I need something sweet,” Heeseung muttered, eyes glued to his phone. “Let’s stop by the café real quick before we head back.”

Jake hummed in agreement, barely listening. His hands were shoved in his pockets, steps lazy and unhurried, until he saw you.

You stood by your locker, fingers moving as you fixed your books and reorganized your things. Strands of hair fell over your face as you reached up to adjust the top shelf, completely unaware of the way Jake’s attention had locked onto you like a magnet.

Like his feet had a mind of their own, walking past you wasn’t an option. He lifted a hand, waving Heeseung off without a word.

Heeseung, still distracted by whatever was on his phone, just nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Jake took that as his cue and started walking.

He changed course, slipping away so smoothly it was like he had never been walking beside Heeseung in the first place. Within seconds, he was ten feet away from where they had been.

Heeseung didn’t even notice.

Jake stopped right beside you, leaning casually against the lockers. “Need some help?”

You glanced up, slightly startled. “Jake? What happened to—weren’t you with Heeseung?”

Jake smirked. “Was I?”

You blinked. “…Yes?”

Jake just shrugged, reaching out and taking the book you were about to shove into your bag. Without hesitation, he slung your very girly, very bow-covered bag over his shoulder like it was nothing. The sight of it against his unbuttoned navy blazer, his loosened navy tie, and the lazy confidence in his stance, was almost comical.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Jake.”

“Hm?”

“You ditched him.”

His grin was shameless. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jake—”

“Come on,” he cut in smoothly, already turning to walk with you. “Where are you headed?”

You huffed, shutting your locker. “The student council room.”

Jake raised a brow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. “Huh. Didn’t know you were suddenly on council duty.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not. Our class treasurer forgot to submit a report on the budget, so I’m doing it.”

His expression changed, something playful settling in his gaze. “And you didn’t ask me for help?”

You rolled your eyes, hugging the folder to your chest. “Jake, you’re the secretary, not the treasurer. Big difference.”

“Still part of it,” he argued, effortlessly matching your pace as you navigated through the crowded hall. “I could’ve at least made sure you weren’t running around like this.”

You scoffed, but before you could respond, you felt the warmth of his hand press lightly against the small of your back. It was a barely-there touch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath hitched.

Jake, of course, didn’t seem fazed at all. If anything, he was acting like this was normal. Like the heat of his palm wasn’t sending a strange sort of static along your spine.

“What?” he mused, tilting his head slightly when he noticed you stiffen. “Crowded hall. Don’t want you getting lost.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your lips together as you forced yourself to keep walking.

Meanwhile, a few feet behind, Heeseung who had been completely occupied with his phone, glanced up, only to find that Jake had completely disappeared.

His brows furrowed as he scanned the hallway, but all he could see was a familiar fluff of brown hair moving through the crowd.

Heeseung sighed through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The student council room was unusually silent.

No soft hum of pages flipping, no quiet muttering as Jake worked through his usual mountain of files, no fresh scent of coffee filling the air like it always did in the morning.

Just… quietness.

Jay walked in first, balancing his drink in one hand, fingers lazily tapping against his phone with the other. "He’s already here, right?" He barely glanced up, expecting the usual scene: Jake at his desk, half-buried in council paperwork, looking vaguely annoyed that they weren’t being as productive as him.

Ni-ki didn’t even bother looking around. "Duh. Jake’s always here first."

Except, Jake wasn’t there.

Jay froze mid-step, blinking at the empty desk. “Wait.” He frowned. “Where the hell is he?”

Ni-ki finally looked up from his phone, expecting Jay to be overreacting, only for his eyes to land on something even weirder, a stack of neatly arranged documents, sitting untouched on Jake’s desk.

It was done.

All of it. Every single piece of work Jake should've been doing this morning had already been signed, stapled, and sorted.

Jay exhaled through his nose, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Okay. So, either he pulled an all-nighter and got his work done ahead of time…” He trailed off before exchanging a look with Ni-ki.

“…Or he figured out how to clone himself,” Ni-ki deadpanned, poking the paperwork like it might vanish into thin air. “Either way, this is freaky.”

Jay barely acknowledged the joke, still staring at the empty seat. “No, but seriously. Where is he?”

Meanwhile, a few blocks away; Jake didn’t even bother looking up as the café door chimed, signaling more students coming in. He barely acknowledged the low murmurs around them, the not-so-subtle glances.

His focus was elsewhere. More specifically, on you.

You were curled slightly forward, fiddling with your drink, your hand resting on his blazer, which was draped across your lap.

He had thrown the blazer over you without a second thought—didn’t even say anything, just casually shrugged it off and placed it there.

Not that you noticed. You were too busy fuming about your morning.

“I mean, seriously,” you huffed, stirring your drink aggressively. “What kind of professor makes a deadline 7 AM sharp? That should be illegal. There should be laws.”

Jake hummed, lazily adjusting the girly pink bag that was currently on his lap. “So you did it last-minute.”

You shot the pureblooded Alpha a look. “No, because if I finished it early, I wouldn’t be this pissed off about it.”

Jake smirked. “Right. So you did do it last-minute.”

You groaned, pressing your forehead against the table dramatically. “Okay, fine, maybe I did finish it at, like, 3 AM, but that’s beside the point.”

Jake took a slow sip of his drink, watching you. “No, I think that’s exactly the point.” His voice was smoother now, teasing. “You could’ve just asked for my help, you know.”

Your head snapped up. “Oh, please. Like I’d let Mr. Secretary do my work for me.”

Jake huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, but you let me carry your bag.”

You didn’t even blink. “And?”

Jake blinked back.

Because, yeah, he’d been expecting at least some kind of reaction. A scoff, an eye-roll, maybe even a muttered whatever, Sim. But instead, you looked at him like this was just normal. Like him carrying your pink, ribbon-covered, unmistakably girly bag was something he’d done a hundred times before.

Which, now that he thought about it, he kinda had.

Your omega practically preened at the thought.

It felt natural. Comforting.

Like it belonged there, like he belonged there.

And if Jake noticed the way your lips pressed together like you were fighting back a smile? No, he didn’t. Not at all.

Mornings in the council room were always the same. Papers shuffled, chairs scraped against the floor, low murmurs filled the air as the student council members moved through their routine and Jake’s coffee—always lingered in the air, a signal that their secretary had already buried himself in work before anyone else arrived.

Except today, the room smelled normal.

No coffee, no Jake.

Jungwon, seated at his own desk near the window, skimmed through a proposal, his brows furrowed in concentration. Sunoo, half-awake and nursing his iced americano like his life depended on it, peeked up at the clock.

Ni-ki, on the other hand, had been watching the entrance for the past five minutes.

“Where’s golden boy?” he finally muttered, leaning back in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers.

Jay, sitting at his own table across from Jungwon, barely spared him a glance. “No clue. Probably overslept.”

Heeseung, who had his feet propped up on his desk, scoffed. “Jake? Oversleep? Yeah, right.”

Sunghoon, who had been absentmindedly flipping through his phone, glanced up, unimpressed. “Maybe he finally decided to quit and live a stress-free life. About time.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the door swung open.

Jake strolled in, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual crisp blazer nowhere to be found. The loosened navy tie around his neck hung effortlessly, and his hair was slightly tousled like he’d been outside for too long.

The Alpha wasn't rushed, not groggy, just calm.

And that was already weird: Jake never looked this relaxed in the morning.

Jay barely lifted his head, but his eyes narrowed.

Heeseung blinked, sitting up slightly. Jungwon paused mid-page turn. Sunoo finally looked up from his drink.

Jake, however, didn’t spare them a single glance.

He just walked straight to his desk, set his bag down, and smiled.

Not his usual morning scowl, not the slightly annoyed expression they were used to, and that alone was enough to make the entire room go quiet.

And then—

“You reek of an omega.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through the silence, lazy but pointed.

Jake didn’t even look up, he didn’t tense, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just shrugged. “New perfume.”

Jay immediately put his pen down.

Sunoo, blinking, looked at Jungwon, then at Jake again. Ni-ki, having just taken a sip of his drink, nearly choked.

“Perfume?” Jungwon repeated, skeptical.

“Yeah,” Jake hummed, still not looking at them. “Wanted to try something different.”

And honestly, it would’ve been believable.

Jake wore cologne. That much was true. But not this. Not this soft. It wasn’t sharp like his usual clean, expensive scent.

It was warmer. Like honey and seawater, subtle but distinct, the kind of scent that only clung to someone when they’d been too close to an omega for too long.

And in a room filled with pureblooded alphas, it wasn’t something that went unnoticed.

But instead of calling him out, Sunghoon just exhaled through his nose, letting it slide. If some omega had thrown themselves at Jake this morning, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

“Damn,” Ni-ki muttered, shaking his head in amusement. “Didn’t know you had a confession today.”

Jake, finally glancing up, raised a brow. “Huh?”

Sunoo smirked. “The omega. They were all over you, weren’t they?”

Jake just rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

But Jay just stared. Because while the others were making their own assumptions, he noticed things.

Like the way Jake’s shoulders were too loose, the way his usually sharp morning glare had been replaced by something almost smug. The way his fingers lingered just a second longer when he reached for his pen.

Jake was weirdly comfortable, and Jay had a feeling it wasn’t because of some random omega.

It was someone specific. It wouldn't take a genius to acknowledge the fact that his scent was all over a specific omega just as much as theirs was all over him.

That same day, the council room was missing something.

Or rather—someone.

Jungwon tapped a pen against his desk, lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze swept across the room. The usual members were in their usual places, some sorting through reports, others murmuring among themselves. But one chair, in particular, remained empty.

Jake’s.

Jungwon turned to the juniors under the secretary committee, his tone expectant. “Did he say anything about missing the meeting?”

The second-years exchanged nervous glances before one of them hesitantly spoke up. “No, President. He didn’t mention anything.”

That made Jungwon pause.

Jake was many things, laid-back, exasperatingly smug, and a flight risk when it came to avoiding unnecessary small talk. But he was also reliable. He never skipped a meeting without at least a heads-up.

Sunoo, lounging lazily in his chair, finally looked up from his phone. “Are we sure he’s not dead?”

Heeseung, ignoring him, strode over to Jake’s desk. His eyes immediately landed on the thick folder placed neatly at the center, its edges aligned with military precision.

He opened it.

Inside were pages upon pages of documents, all labeled, revised, and signed. Every committee task Jake was responsible for? Already handled.

Heeseung huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Sunoo leaned over, peeking at the contents. “So he did everything beforehand, left proof, and then just—what? Vanished?”

Silence.

Then he clapped his hands together. “Well, if everything’s here, we might as well start.”

No one objected, except Jay.

Jay, who hadn’t even looked at the documents because he didn’t need to.

Something about this was off.

It was late.

The university parking lot was nearly empty, save for a few scattered cars and the occasional security guard making his rounds. The group were all making their way toward their rides, conversations overlapping in low murmurs.

The day had been long, the last meeting dragging on longer than expected, and now they were finally free.

"Ugh, I swear, if one more junior asks me to proofread their paperwork—" Sunoo grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Maybe if you didn’t baby them so much, they wouldn’t keep asking," Sunghoon teased, smirking.

Sunoo shot him a glare. "Maybe if you actually showed up to the meetings on time, you’d—"

Jay wasn’t listening.

His attention had been caught by something else.

A few steps ahead of the group, his pace slowed, then stopped entirely as his gaze landed on one of the benches just near the lot.

At first, he didn’t understand what he was looking at.

Jake was there. That in itself wasn’t strange. But Jake wasn’t alone, you were there, too.

And that was what made Jay’s breath catch in his throat; Jake wasn’t just sitting with you.

He was practically curled into you, head nestled snugly against the curve of your neck, his face pressed to your scent gland like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm draped lazily over the back of the bench, one hand resting near your thigh; casual, comfortable, too familiar.

And you? You were just reading.

Flipping through the pages of your book like this was nothing new. Like Jake burying himself against your scent, molding himself into you, wasn’t something worth reacting to.

Jay’s feet refused to move.

It took Heeseung nearly walking into him for the others to notice his sudden stillness.

“Dude, why’d you stop—” Heeseung started, but then his voice faltered when he followed Jay’s gaze.

One by one, the rest of the group turned.

And one by one, their expressions shifted.

“Oh.” Jungwon’s voice was quiet, but filled with realization.

“No way.” Ni-ki blinked.

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms. “Well. That explains a lot.”

Sunoo pressed his lips together, visibly holding back a laugh as he nudged his mate. “I mean, are we even surprised?”

They weren’t.

Not really.

But seeing it—seeing Jake so effortlessly tangled up with you, as if he’d been doing this for years, was something else entirely.

And Jake? Jake was completely oblivious to the fact that they were watching.

If anything, he only seemed to relax further, exhaling deeply against your skin before shifting slightly, adjusting his position so he could press even closer. His nose brushed against your neck, fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to grip your waist.

The sight of it made something click.

Jay had noticed it before, the way Jake had been disappearing more often, the way he had been skipping out on long hours at the council office, the way he had been coming back with a scent that was unmistakably omega, unmistakably settled on his skin.

But now, standing here, watching Jake press into you, breathe you in, claim you without even realizing he was doing it—it made too much sense.

Jay exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Well. That’s new.”

Finally, Jake moved.

Not because he noticed them, no, he was still completely wrapped up in you. It was because you moved.

Without even looking up from your book, you lifted a hand and ran your fingers gently through Jake’s hair, the motion absentminded and natural, like this was routine.

Jake hummed at the touch, actually hummed, his arm tightening slightly around the back of the bench.

The entire group watched in silent disbelief.

Sunghoon blinked. "I feel like we shouldn't be seeing this."

Jungwon huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, but here we are."

Ni-ki raised a brow. "So, are we just gonna stand here and stare, or—?"

Jake had been careful.

Or at least, he thought he had.

But apparently, not careful enough.

Because the second he smelled it—them, it was already too late.

Jake’s body tensed, his nose twitched, and his fingers flexed against the back of the bench. The comfortable warmth of your scent was suddenly invaded, drowned out by something else.

Jake inhaled once again, and immediately regretted it.

⤷ read part 2 here !

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo @in-somnias-world @notcamii @yizhoutv @lovesickth @elairah @graythecoffeebean @skyearby @ikeumina @blckorchidd @littlebambi-isdee @immelissaaa @jakesfurry @dreamy-carat @cristy-101 @m1kkso @h4niyahcar @firstclassjaylee @skyearby @hello0i

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !