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cosmicwoo · 2 months ago

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pick your poison | wicked games series

“You know—when you're still hurting from one person and find someone else to patch you up?” Changkyun said. “One poison drives out another.”

☾ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader ☾ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ☾ aus: bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, rebound fucking, "enemies" to fucking, messy love triangle ☾ word count: 17.3k

› PREVIOUS CHAPTERS – READ MORE

☾ warnings: smut with plot, alcohol consumption but no dubcon, hurt/comfort[?], spiraling, unprotected p in v sex, body worshipping, pussy eating, fingering, creampies, hickeys. reader is chubby. pet names: ma'am, baby (hers)

☾ author's note: i'm sorry.

☾ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and do not to look like a bot 🙂

pick your poison

The basketball court was empty. The night was still, as though hurt by the echo of the conversation you kept replaying in your head.

Puddles of water glistened on the pavement, reflecting fragments of the moonlight as it shone on the dark sky.

You sat there alone, motionless. Waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Or maybe you did.

You looked down at your hands. They were wet. Wet in tears of a dream that was lost.

The sky shifted, and light poured into the basketball court. The sun rose too quickly, too bright. It brought with it the cruel reality to your broken heart. Like a thread pulled from your chest.

But then you woke up.

Your breath caught before you could open your eyes. You were lying on your bed, too exhausted to move. Your throat was dry, and every beat of your heart ached like it had a thorn right in the centre of it.

You were at home. But in your heart, you were still sitting on the bleachers. At the basketball court.

Waiting for him.

Time passed in a blur after that night.

Days and nights went on, time slipping through your fingers like water. But despite that, you felt like your life had been perpetually put on pause. Your mind, body and soul were on standby, waiting for his call, even though you knew that he was set on his choice.

Being on standby also meant that you didn’t feel a thing.

You made a promise to yourself—the moment you left the court, you would never cry for Kim Mingyu again. And you would never cry for another man ever again.

What used to be your routine melted into a continuous, numbing train of activities. Work, home, eat, sleep. One after another. Suddenly, you found yourself moving without thinking. Acting without really being there.

You kept yourself busy, believing that work might save you from the aching hole in your chest threatening to pull you in.

There is an undeniable negativity around setbacks, around change.

But in this situation, you didn’t know whether you had stumbled upon a setback or a change. Mingyu had never been your actual partner, in the sense that you never solidified a real relationship with him. The thing that was making you feel incomplete was that he walked away without ever knowing how you truly felt about him.

So there was one thing you could do. Bury it.

You would bury your feelings and bury yourself if need be. It felt like rewriting bits and pieces of yourself that you were once willing to put into a relationship with him. Only to find out that you were idealizing a relationship that was never going to happen.

A part of you felt resentful. You felt used. Like he just came into your life, wrapped you in and then left you hanging. Alone.

But the other part felt grateful that he reappeared in your life and graced you with the ability to love again. Even though he left you with a heart full and brimming with love that you will never be able to give him.

The truth was, you didn’t feel any wiser. Forever stuck repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

Autumn had you yearning for snow. Anything that would make the puddles of water along the sidewalks freeze over.

Everywhere you turned, you saw him. Even the faintest smell of coconut made your chest ache. Even the sound of rain reminded you of him.

You opened the door to a coffee shop, walking inside with an umbrella in one hand and grabbing the straps of your tote bag in the other.

You didn’t have to go to the other side of the city to get coffee. But lately, sitting in the small office you rented was suffocating. And being in your apartment made you think too much about the same thing.

And when you weren’t working, you avoided sitting in your own apartment. You couldn’t stand the silence of your space. Not then, and not now.

So you wandered. Searching for places you hadn’t ruined yet with memories.

The coffee shop was small, cozy, and humming with soft R&B music. The scent of fresh ground coffee and pastries hit you immediately. Warm, bitter, and sweet all at once. You stepped inside, suddenly feeling like you had crossed into a different reality. While outside was bleak and it looked like it threatened to rain again, inside was a wave of color. Splashes of pastels, warm colors, and warm yellow lights overhead.

For a moment, it almost felt like you could breathe again. Like the gaping hole inside you was replaced by a different thing.

But this feeling was fleeting.

There were only a handful of people inside the coffee shop. But one of them turned slightly toward you, the movement drawing your gaze to him.

Jeon Wonwoo might’ve sensed you, because he turned over his shoulder, spotting you instantly. He stood near the menu, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose.

He moved awkwardly, bowing his head politely when he caught your gaze.

His lips moved, but you couldn’t make out his words.

This was the closest you’d come to anything connected to Kim Mingyu since the night he broke up with you.

Wonwoo flicked his gaze over your face—a hint of confusion, of something almost unreadable.

“Excuse me,” you cleared your throat, stepping closer to the counter.

“I said, do you want to order first?” he asked using a polite tone, but there was a usual dryness to it. “I am still deciding for myself.”

“I uh,” you fumbled, feeling the nerves prickling down your spine. “I-I’ll have an iced americano, please. And a cookie. Please.”

You sent a glance at Wonwoo, trying to come off as unbothered as you could. But there was no way you could mask the trembling of your fingers when you extended your hand to pay.

Wonwoo stood behind you, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his dark hoodie. “I’ll have a strawberry yogurt smoothie, please,” he said, pulling out his wallet and taking out a card with his nimble fingers.

You held your reaction. It was obfuscating to you that he would order such a fun and non-plain beverage like that.

But you both stood at the end of the bar, waiting for your beverages. None of you made eye contact again. But you could feel his furtive glances every ten seconds, when he thought you were too distracted looking at your phone.

But you were just staring at your phone, pretending to move your thumb down the screen.

Deep inside, you wanted to run. You wanted to crawl into the nearest, safest place you could find. You wanted to conjure up a way to disappear into thin air. But at the same time, you wanted to stay. To admire the closest thing that reminded you of him. Of Mingyu.

Your heart thumped in your ears. You wanted to hold onto the space where Wonwoo stood. Even as your order came down the bar and you picked it up.

But without meeting his gaze again, you grabbed your cup and turned around, heading to the door.

Wonwoo was there, pushing the door open before you could do it yourself. In one hand, he held his pink smoothie cup, and in the other, he held the door open for you. “Thank you,” you mumbled politely, exiting the coffee shop and joining the slow influx of people walking down the street.

“Don’t mention it,” Wonwoo replied. He looked like he didn’t expect to see you today. And in such a random part of the city.

After a beat, you realized that Wonwoo had fallen into step with you, forced to walk close to you due to the heavily transited sidewalk.

“Are you heading down to the station?” Wonwoo asked curiously, motioning down at the stairs that led to the underground subway.

“Yeah. You too?” you replied. Your tone sounded suffocated. Like you were struggling to breathe properly.

“Yeah,” he said casually. He raised his gaze, surveying his surroundings like he was looking for a quick exit to leave you on your own.

But you tried to ignore it. A part of you was glad to have someone so familiar, but at the same time, so different from Mingyu. You never felt like Wonwoo liked you, so it was weirdly comforting that you had stumbled upon him. It was having someone so close to Mingyu, but different enough not to expect any questions coming from him.

The stairs were slick, wet with rain as you made your way into the station.

At the platform, the silence stretched. Wonwoo shifted his weight awkwardly, adjusting the strap of the bag slung across his body.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo said after a minute, smiling shyly. “I promise I’m not following you or whatever.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down at his feet.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind the company,” you admitted with a little bit of struggle.

Wonwoo raised his eyes to you, studying you for a moment. “Okay,” he said, appearing to ground himself next to you. And for a moment, you thought that if you hadn’t said that, he would’ve stepped away.

The train arrived, and you both watched it as it slowly came to a stop. The doors hissed open, and you both went in after waiting patiently for it to clear out.

But it was still very packed with people, forcing you to remain on your feet and close to him. You hooked an arm around the pole, still holding on for dear life to the straps of your tote bag and sipping carefully from your iced coffee.

“Do you—okay,” Wonwoo blurted, opting to stay at your side. He raised an arm over his head to grab onto one of the handles.

The wagon hissed and beeped as the time to get in or exit ran out. The doors closed, and you were gently swayed in motion with the car. Your body was gently moved forward, awkwardly bumping into Wonwoo.

“Sorry,” you whispered nervously, trying not to disrupt the peace and quiet from inside the wagon.

“Don’t be,” he whispered back, avoiding your eyes.

You tried to keep at least half an arm’s distance. Every time the train came to a stop, you tried to ground yourself as best as you could, clenching all of your muscles to the point it exhausted you.

And for a moment, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was in fact more normal than you had expected it to be.

“Where do you get off?” you asked after he didn’t exit for three stops. It was then that you started to feel that your plans were about to change. And collide with his.

“In the next one.”

You nodded slowly, trying to hide your doomed smile.

“You?” he asked, pausing and then, “You too?”

“Yep,” you replied.

Wonwoo let out an amused breath through his nose. “Museum?”

You blinked. “Yes,” you chuckled awkwardly. But then, you looked at Wonwoo, like really looked at him. He was sporting a camera bag across his shoulder. “Don’t tell me—”

“Sculpture showing?” he raised his eyebrows, huffing a tiny laugh when you nodded.

“Yeah,” you sighed, looking down at your shoes.

The museum was half empty. A quiet, bustling series of sounds followed you inside as you moved towards the wide lobby. It was still beginning to rain again as you went inside, making you hope that it’d stop by the time you came out.

You and Wonwoo moved without talking. As you went into the showing, you realized that it was organized so that you looked at each sculpture in a particular order, starting from the right side of the long room.

The showing was called A Human Connection.

Wonwoo lingered a few steps away from you, his hands gripping his very expensive-looking camera, his head tilted like he was studying every bit of the sculptures, and looking for the perfect angle for a photo.

You wandered through the first few sculptures, pausing every so often to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. You realized he never strayed too far from you. But he didn’t speak, he didn’t voice the curiosity that showed behind his eyes every time his gaze flitted towards you.

The sculptures were beautiful, in a broken way. Bodies twisted in longing, hands that stretched to ghostly partners. Some figures leaned toward each other, sharing frozen and untouched kisses. A male figure knelt in front of a female figure, his arms clinging to her thighs, and he appeared to be hunched over her. Begging.

You continued walking, trying not to think too much, otherwise it would begin to show on the features of your face. You were beginning to feel deeply affected.

And then—you were forced to stop in front of one that caught your breath.

It was two human figures carved into smooth white stone, sitting back-to-back. The male figure had a hand stretching back, looking for the female figure who was leaving. In the stone where they both sat was a fracture, separating them definitively.

The woman was leaving. The man was trying to stop her. But beneath them, there was something broken.

You stared at it, feeling like life was playing a sick joke on you. Laughing at your pain.

Wonwoo joined you, standing beside you in utter silence.

You felt his eyes on you, but you pretended to be too enthralled by the sculpture to notice. For a while, neither of you spoke. And you tried your best to push all of your thoughts away.

“Do you think we’re all like that?” Wonwoo asked, his voice so quiet that you barely caught it.

You turned your head slowly. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “People who want to reach out. But only do it when it’s too late.”

You blinked at him, thrown off by the rare glimpse of vulnerability. “M-maybe.”

Wonwoo shifted, fixing his glasses awkwardly. He looked almost embarrassed, as though he, too, had been enthralled by the sculpture, and he didn’t realize who he was talking to. He appeared to be ready to move on to the next sculpture, but you opened your mouth, bringing him to a halt.

“I think that there are some people who still try,” you said. “People who reach out before it’s too late.”

Wonwoo looked at you. And you felt little under his scrutiny. You thought for a moment that he was going to take this as an opportunity to talk about what happened with Mingyu. To say something.

But he just stayed beside you. He had lowered his camera, deciding to absorb the beauty displayed in front of you. The warm light pouring from the skylight overhead created a shadow over the male figure, while the female figure glistened beautifully.

You slowly peeled off from the sculpture and moved onto the next. Wonwoo followed you silently, and you realized that his company was not at all what you had half-expected it to be. It was welcoming, something different and new. Like a silent truce that none of you were ready to acknowledge.

Wonwoo tipped his head toward the exit. “Are you heading back?” he asked when you had toured all the showing from start to finish.

You nodded quietly.

Outside, the sky had darkened. It had stopped raining, but it was considerably colder than before. The sidewalk was wet, and it glimmered under the streetlights, the pavement hissing loudly under the movement of the cars passing through.

You wrapped your arms around you, hugging your sweater tighter. You sucked in a breath, just as your teeth clattered quite dramatically, and loudly.

“Are you cold?” he asked, laughing lightly.

A small but meek smile tugged at your lips. “No, I’m not,” you lied through your teeth, laughing when the answer was obvious.

Wonwoo shrugged his leather jacket off, offering it to you without saying a word.

“I can’t” you said, blinking at him, alarmed.

“Take it,” he said simply. Like it was nothing to him and not something pregnant with meaning. He rolled his eyes, clearly getting why you were hesitant. “You’re shivering, come on.”

You hesitated, but took it anyway.

The fabric was warm, carrying the faintest trace of the laundry detergent that threatened to remind you of someone else. But as you let the jacket sit on your shoulders, another scent brushed against your senses. It was sweet, peachy, and warm. Oddly comforting.

You pulled it over your wrists, hiding your hands inside the sleeves.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything about it, but he looked at your sweater paws, now accompanied by his leather jacket. And the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

For a few blocks, you walked side by side, trading furtive glances when you thought that he might go away, or when you thought he wasn’t looking. He walked slowly, carefully taking each step to keep up with your slow pace. It was a quiet walk. Easy.

When you reached the station, he gave you one inquisitive look.

You knew he was dying to ask—because deep inside, you wanted to ask too. You wanted to know how Mingyu was faring, you wanted to know if he had been working on healing in all these weeks of no contact. A part of you wanted to know if he had tried to look for you.

But you couldn’t do it.

When you reached the station, you hesitated at first, but then you asked, “Are you heading home too?”

He nodded quietly.

“Same line?” you asked, though it was obvious. You knew where he lived and that he would have to use the same line to get there.

“Yeah.”

You both stepped inside the car, the floor wet with the dampness of all of the wet coats and umbrellas.

You quickly found a corner spot, standing close enough to Wonwoo that you could get that peachy scent coming from him too.

You both fell silent again. And it was okay.

As you both made your way out of the station, you realized that it had started raining again. You reached for your umbrella, preparing it as you climbed the stairs to the street.

Wonwoo paused, huffing a light laugh when he realized that it was raining harder than it was before.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “We can share,” you said, raising the umbrella above your head.

Wonwoo raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

You found yourself rolling your eyes at him. “You gave me your jacket,” you shrugged. “Fair is fair?”

Wonwoo didn’t understand why the smile was wiped off your face. But your heart had stuttered after you uttered those last words, which echoed to some distant memory. To somewhere you didn’t want to go yet.

For half a second, he remained motionless. But then he stepped closer to you, standing under the umbrella. As you started walking, your shoulders brushed—and you were thankful to have accepted his jacket and couldn’t feel his skin properly.

You both moved down the street slowly. Rain pattered around you, creating a bubble of sound that felt almost too private, enclosing you both.

Wonwoo cleared his throat beside you, adjusting the strap of his camera bag so it wouldn’t bump against you. “Allow me,” he whispered, taking the umbrella from your hand and adjusting it to his height.

“Oh, sorry,” you laughed lightly, realizing that you were making him hunch to fit your size.

“It’s okay,” he replied, glancing your way. He was smiling too, and it was then that you realized that his glasses were starting to fog.

When you reached the next corner, Wonwoo hesitated. “Which way do you take?” he asked.

You realized that while you knew where he lived, he didn’t know where you lived.

“That way,” you pointed. Your shoes were getting soaked. The corners of the umbrella were dripping water all around you. Your shoulder was wet somehow.

“Maybe I could order a ride for you,” he offered, fumbling for his phone.

“No, my place is right down the street,” you said, bringing a hand to stop him, your fingers gently grazing his wrist.

You dropped your hand, as though his skin had burned you.

Wonwoo raised his gaze at you.

“Take it,” you motioned to the umbrella with one hand. “You’ll need it more than I.”

Wonwoo looked at your hand, then at you. Something flickered across his face, but you were too slow to read it.

“Then take my jacket,” he said.

You gaped at him. “Oh, no—”

“Fair is fair,” he cut in.

You couldn’t hide the way his words impacted you. It was as though your chest had turned into ice, making it impossible for you to breathe. You couldn’t stop it now. You thought of him. Of Mingyu, of the rains that had brought him to your life. The first kiss you shared. And your heart broke again.

You blinked repeatedly, expertly hiding your tears. “At least let me know how I could give it back to you,” you stuttered, raising your gaze to him.

Jeon Wonwoo was smart. He must’ve known what you meant. But his eyes read your expression, taking in your words. Returning his jacket was simple—you knew where he worked, where he lived.

“W-without having t-to see him.” You explained, and even though you didn’t utter his name, your heart churned.

Wonwoo took out his phone, handing it to you without a word. “Give me your phone number,” he said at once.

You sent him another alarmed expression. But he was not discussing it.

“Come on. Before we’re both soaked over,” he urged, almost as though it bothered him to know where your uncertainty was coming from.

Your heart twisted. But you took his phone, typing your number and swiftly calling your phone so you could register his number.

You handed his phone back, exchanging one lingering look that meant something. His eyes read your face, probably finding the vulnerable girl in your glinting eyes.

“Take care of yourself,” he muttered dryly, turning away once you nodded at him, too stunned to say something back.

You ran across the street, stopping under the awning before the entrance to your building. Looking over your shoulder, Wonwoo was walking down the street, your umbrella firmly in his grasp as he disappeared into the next corner of the street.

As soon as you came to your apartment, you peeled his jacket off. You saw Wonwoo’s face as the strong smell of peach and pachouli brushed against your senses.

The emptiness inside you started to ache at its edges.

Your apartment was dark, and dead silent. You closed the window to stop the rain from splashing inside and moved to the kitchen.

You had some leftovers from the night before. Curled up on one corner of the couch, watching something you have watched a thousand times already. There was a pause in the movie, and everything stilled in your apartment.

Maybe I should get a cat, you thought impulsively.

Your phone buzzed beside you, making your heart stop for a split-second.

It was past midnight. Nobody really texted you at this hour anymore.

You reached for it, expecting a dumb notification from some random app.

But it was Wonwoo.

“thanks for the umbrella.

you saved my camera. and me.”

You stared at the two text messages for a long second. A part of you wanted to acknowledge the strange, warm feeling you got from getting a text from someone. Even if it was Jeon Wonwoo.

You pulled your knees to your chest, gnawing on your lower lip as you pressed your thumbs on the screen. “You’re welcome. I’m glad.”

Almost immediately, the three little dots appeared. “did you get home alright?”

You didn’t take his text message as an invasion. But almost as a way for him to still be polite. A gentleman.

But you were still caught a little off-guard. It had been a while since you interacted with someone, so for him to be so… thoughtful made you take a pause.

You rested your chin on your knees. “Yeah, I did. Thank you.”

Wonwoo didn’t reply right away.

You stared at the screen for a while, half-expecting the conversation to die there.

But then another reply came, “have a good night.”

Something squeezed painfully in your chest. It was nothing. It’s nothing, you thought over and over. He’s being polite, nothing more.

A part of you felt ridiculed. Someone was being nice to you and your heart was already suffering, hurting as though you were running a marathon. Running away from something, more like.

“Thanks. You too,” you replied, acknowledging the way your heart faltered in stress with a big sigh.

It was nothing, yet you put your phone away as though it had suddenly burned your hands. The emptiness inside you warmed over such simple words. But just like that, the cocoon that you had wrapped to protect yourself was fractured.

Resurfacing meant that you had to give explanations to the people closest to you.

You pushed the door open to Casa Pump House, relieved to find it emptier than usual. Wednesday evenings were quieter. You’d been strictly coming to the gym around seven—avoiding Sundays at all costs. And so far, you’d successfully avoided Mingyu.

What you couldn’t avoid though, was Jungkook’s expert capacity for gossip. He’d known something was wrong after Mingyu broke up with you—your two-week disappearance and radio silence were louder than any verbal confirmation.

You only started coming to the gym sporadically, and you rarely caught Jungkook on shift. But the times you did, you avoided talking about it, about him. And Jungkook took the hint.

However, he could only keep it to himself for so long.

“Aaay,” Jungkook jogged over with a wide smile, softening the features of his face. “If it isn’t my favorite girl.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Is that what you tell every girl in here?”

He shrugged. “Just the ones that are evil to me,” he said with a light chuckle. But the grin slowly vanished, as his doe eyes studied you from head to toe. “Are you okay?”

Your heart faltered at the sound of his voice softening. He must’ve noticed the dark circles under your eyes. “I think you already know,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Jungkook pursed his lips slightly, giving you a short nod. “Yeah. He uh… he told me last night when I stopped by the bar,” he sighed, placing his hands on his hips. He chewed on the side of his lip that wasn’t adorned with piercings. “How are you handling it?”

You licked your lips and balled a hand into a fist, trying to hold yourself true to your promise. “I’m doing okay,” you said. But your voice came out thinner than you had wanted. You sounded brittle, and unsure. “As best as I can be.”

The features of his face shifted, and he took a tiny step towards you, having to tilt his head forward to look into your eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, even though you were the only ones in the gym at that moment, and no one would listen to you.

You shook your head, tightening your lips into a straight line.

“That’s okay,” he said, his tone still gentle and quiet. “If you ever need to talk about it—about anything at all—you know you can call me, right?”

You raised your gaze to his big eyes. You never expected someone so lively and fun to bring you such calm to your heart. You nodded. “Thank you, JK,” you whispered, unable to bring your voice any higher. “I appreciate it.”

He nodded. “Don’t mention it,” he said. And then, stepping back, he brought his hands together in a thunderous clap. “Alright, let’s put you to work. Let’s go!” he roared vigorously.

You smiled despite yourself, wishing you could just flip a switch like that.

But for the first time in weeks, you felt better.

The Spot was quiet, as expected from a rainy Tuesday afternoon. But being it being a slow day didn’t mean that the regular tasks stopped there.

Seungcheol had taken the day off with his girlfriend. So that meant that it was just Mingyu and Wonwoo handling the bar. But that was fine, since the only customers there were the three Tuesday usuals.

Mingyu had been trying not to fixate on his phone, but he had been struggling to keep himself present and found that looking at mindless things on his phone allowed him to escape his reality.

Lately, life had been suffocating. Work was alright, nothing Mingyu couldn’t deal with. No, the suffocating feeling came from not being able to stop wishing he had something that occupied his time, his energy and his mind completely.

Because every time that silence stretched and he found himself alone, he would see you in the eye of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he did the right thing, he still felt that he had made a terrible mistake.

His fingers itched—he wanted to call you, to open your chat and tell you to meet up. He wanted to tell you that he missed you every single day and night. When it got dark and quiet, he ached to call you. Even if it was the middle of the night, just to hear your voice. To hear your tiny, and sweet giggles.

He blinked slowly, breathing in deeply to try and get rid of the pain in his chest. It was as though the feelings that were beginning to bloom for you had withered and had grown thorns around them, twisting around his heart.

He was at that point in his heartbreak where memories were beginning to hurt, but he couldn’t keep himself away from them. Sometimes he wished he had taken photos of you so he could have your pretty face to look at when he missed you too much. But he resorted to just looking at your profile photo.

It was a photo that your best friend, Mona, had taken one night out. You were smiling at the camera, lifting your chin in a prim manner. Behind you was a colorful mural, painting two great wings behind you, spreading and merging with an array of wildflowers.

You were squeezing your eyes shut in the photo. And he could almost picture the moment—your friend convincing you to take the photo, and you standing there until something got a smile out of you.

His heart twisted painfully when the word Online appeared below your name. He exited the chat quickly, feeling ridiculous for a moment. He pocketed his phone, lifting his gaze to make sure that no one had seen him act so impulsively.

But as he resumed with his task behind the bar, he was consumed now with memories of you. A call wouldn’t hurt, a sneaky thought flashed across his mind. She would understand, she always does.

No, Mingyu told himself sternly. He has done enough damage to you. He came into your life just to make a mess of it. You were better off without him.

He was a mess. And he had to make himself better before he could seek you out again.

Because that was his plan, at least. Get better, heal his heart, and look for you when he were ready.

Maybe that’s why he felt so out of place. Because, in his heart, he wanted you. He wanted more with you, but just didn’t feel like he was ready to fully love you yet. He knew what he was capable of when his heart was in it. When he wasn’t backing away at the first sign of commitment.

He knew that you deserved better. And he could give you better.

But it wasn’t the right time.

Still, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t think of you. Even though memories hurt, he was addicted to them. Like blissfully drowning in a violent river.

He thought of you, of your voice, of the smell of your hair. He liked to live in the memories where you looked at him lovingly. Those memories when he was inside your body, kissing you like you were his lifeline, because maybe you were.

In his mind, he hugged your body again, losing himself in you. Kissing you, telling you things he never got to in real life.

Something was beginning to rouse inside him when a hand came to his shoulder, patting him in a familiar, gentle way.

Mingyu turned around. Wonwoo was just coming back from his break, nodding to the kitchen door. “You have one hour,” he said promptly.

“What’s on the menu today?” Mingyu asked, not caring that he wasn’t even pretending enough to make his voice sound livelier.

“Sandwiches and fries,” Wonwoo replied, looking curiously at Mingyu, but didn’t ask any questions.

Wonwoo was a very patient friend. He would never intrude when he felt things were still stormy—so he hadn’t dared to pry since the night Mingyu broke up with you.

But Wonwoo was there to see the mess. Mingyu had come home that night and didn’t say a word. He locked himself in his room, and for two whole days, Wonwoo didn’t see or speak to him.

Ever since that night, Mingyu had seemed… hollow. Soulless. Like something in him was missing, and with each passing day, it only got worse—not better.

And ever since Wonwoo saw you at the museum, he’d wanted to ask Mingyu what really happened. But it still felt too soon.

“I’ll be back, then,” Mingyu said, patting Wonwoo’s back as he walked past.

Wonwoo nodded, his eyes following Mingyu until he disappeared through the kitchen door. He exhaled heavily, shaking his head before returning to the task he’d left off. He was in the middle of organizing the inventory, a routine so familiar, he could practically do it with his eyes closed.

The front door creaked open. Wonwoo would’ve normally glanced up to greet whoever entered, but he was too focused on counting boxes of beer.

“What are you serving tonight, sir?” a familiar voice called out.

Wonwoo smiled. Through the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure settling on the stool at the bar.

“Same as ever,” he said, raising his gaze to meet one of his oldest friends. Changkyun.

Wonwoo set his notebook aside and turned to the fridge, grabbing a beer. He placed the bottle on the counter just as Changkyun reached for the opener.

“It’s been a while,” Changkyun said with a tired groan.

“Well, since you started living your healthy life, I see you less,” Wonwoo quipped with a small smile.

“Healthy life?” Changkyun raised an eyebrow. “Getting up at five in the morning to host a radio show is not my definition of healthy.”

“Still, you get more sleep than I do,” Wonwoo shrugged.

“Shut up. You probably make more money in a week with those stupid girls’ nights you’re always advertising,” Changkyun said, narrowing his eyes and pointing at Wonwoo with the neck of the beer.

“That wasn’t my idea—it was Mingyu’s,” Wonwoo replied, raising both palms in mock innocence.

Right then, Mingyu came out of the kitchen. He didn’t acknowledge either of them. He walked straight past the bar and exited through the back door, a storm cloud in human form.

“What’s up with him?” Changkyun motioned toward the door Mingyu had just walked through.

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the door for a moment, ensuring it was shut, then turned back to Changkyun. “Same thing as last time.”

Changkyun raised his eyebrows. “Damn. That breakup hit him harder than I thought.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow. “He and Gigi broke up months ago,” he said. “This is someone else.”

“Really?” Changkyun tilted his head. “Huh. One messy breakup can lead to an even messier one.”

Wonwoo remained quiet. His own experience with heartbreak was... limited, at best. If he could call it that. He had only ever had healthy, uneventful relationships. Nothing explosive. Nothing shattering. He even stayed friends with all of his exes.

“Please elaborate,” he muttered, resting his hands on the lacquered countertop.

Changkyun shrugged. “You know—when you're still hurting from one person and find someone else to patch you up?” he said. “One poison drives out another.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away.

But part of his mind replayed the memory of you—standing beneath the skylight at the museum. The distant look in your eyes. Like something wild and wounded, cautiously stepping into the world again.

He also remembered the night at the bar. When he’d warned you to be careful with Mingyu. Because at the time, he truly believed it was you who might hurt him. Now he realized you’d defended Mingyu so vehemently—only to be the one left behind. It wasn’t you who had been reckless. You weren’t the loose cannon. It was Mingyu.

“I don’t really like what you’re insinuating,” Wonwoo said, rolling his eyes. But deep down, he couldn’t deny that Changkyun might be right.

“Relax, I’m not saying he used her intentionally,” Changkyun replied, glancing at the back door. “But he could still care about her... and use her at the same time.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t make it easier. I’d hate myself too, if I were in his shoes.”

Wonwoo weighed this new idea in silence. He knew Mingyu—knew how deeply he could love. But ever since that breakup with Gigi, something in him had changed. He was more guarded, more distant. A little broken.

Still, to seek you out as comfort… only to discard you when things got too real? That was something Wonwoo never imagined his best friend capable of.

And now, he wondered. Had Mingyu ever really seen you for who you were? Or was he only ever looking for someone to fill the void?

Did he look for his ex in your eyes?

Wonwoo grabbed his phone, quickly finding your name in the list of chats he had ongoing. “there’s a bookstore right across the street from the museum” he wrote to you, his fingers quickly sending out the next words: “we could meet there if you’re free next monday”

You stared at the screen, your heart thudding nervously.

“Hello?” you typed back. “Not even a hi, good evening?”

The three little dots appeared on his end quickly. “hi” he replied.

“How very eloquent,” you mumbled to yourself, your thumbs hovering over the keypad, but you stopped yourself before you could think of what else to say.

“or maybe we could meet somewhere closer to yours, however you prefer” read his texts after some seconds went by.

Your breathing was uneasy. This wasn’t a date. Or something where you had to make yourself look pretty and presentable, you told yourself.

It was simple.

“I love bookstores” you wrote, and then: “And I’m free this Monday”

His reply came shortly after that. “good. see you then”

And that was it.

So Monday rolled around quicker than you probably would have wished for. The morning was wrapped in a chilly layer of mist from the rains overnight. The clouds hung low, dark, and almost threatening to rain again.

You wore a raincoat and packed an extra umbrella, just in case. Since the day was already cold, you made sure to dress appropriately, but as you made your way to the station, beads of sweat had started to gather on your forehead.

Inside the car, you could feel the warmth coming from the heaters below, making you wish you had worn lighter clothes. But with this treacherous weather, it was better to be safe than sorry.

You adjusted the strap of your bag nervously as you walked down the street. You were familiar with the bookstore where Wonwoo wanted to meet with you, but you had never gone inside. You were curious to know why he wanted to meet there—was it because it was so close to the museum?

You hesitated for a second before pushing the door open. You were immediately hit with a sense of wonder, and the questions in your head also piled up and doubled the size once you went inside.

The store wasn’t a typical one. It was just one floor, with rows of sandy brown bookshelves lined up and organized in a way that almost made it look like a maze. In the middle, there was a circular coffee bar. Low indie music played in the background, occasionally interrupted by the loud hiss of the coffee machines.

Wonwoo sat on one of the stools, his fingers wrapped around a small white coffee cup. He took a sip, then lowered the cup slowly. His glasses hung low on the bridge of his nose, and he pushed them up, raising his gaze.

He spotted you immediately, but his expression gave no indication of whether he was pleased to see you.

This was slightly perplexing as you approached the bar. Something stirred inside you at the scent of coffee—and the strong smell of peaches and pachouli.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Wonwoo said quietly, turning to glance at the light book he’d been reading. He closed it, resting his palm on top.

You flashed him an alarmed look, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Why, am I late?” you asked, checking your watch.

“No, just—” Wonwoo shook his head lightly. He motioned to the blackboard menu in front of you. “Coffee?”

You gaped at him a little. “Yeah,” you sighed, discontent creeping into your voice. “You’re really confusing to me.”

Wonwoo arched an eyebrow, watching as you ordered. Once the barista took your request, he cleared his throat. “Why confusing?” he asked, lifting his cup again. You noticed he was drinking a double espresso.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, lowering the straps of your bag and placing it on your lap.

You looked up at the ceiling. The soft, orange glow from the lights above made the space feel warmer—almost like an eternal sunset. The room was also adorned with hanging plants that reached into every corner.

You could feel Wonwoo’s gaze on you, and when you turned to him, your suspicions were confirmed. He didn’t look away or pretend not to be observing you.

But you were the one who turned away first. “I thought you hated me,” you confessed, lowering your voice as shyness crept up your neck, making your face hot.

His lips curved in a tiny, downturned smile. “Why?” he asked gently.

The barista placed your drink beside you. You thanked them, wrapping your hands around the cup, even though your fingers weren’t cold.

“I just got the feeling you didn’t like me. When I was dating Mingyu,” you said, your heart stammering at your own boldness.

Wonwoo blinked, taking the last sip of his coffee. “I never disliked you,” he said bluntly, offering a solemn look that made you realize how quickly you had judged him. “Nor did I have anything against you. I thought I was looking out for him.”

“Yeah. I got that,” you whispered, nervously rotating your cup on its saucer.

He leaned in slightly, his face still serious—but now tinged with a quiet kindness. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you smiled, unable to hide the hurt lingering behind your eyes.

He tapped his thumb against the cup and drew in a long breath through his teeth. “Are you doing okay?” he asked, his brows knitting slightly as he looked at you.

You met his gaze, surprised by both the question and the softness in his tone. You opened your mouth to lie—to say you were fine, better than ever.

But there was no escaping his expert scrutiny.

“I’m trying,” you finally admitted, your voice barely holding itself up.

Wonwoo nodded, gaze softening. But he didn’t push further. It was almost like he was waiting to confirm something he already suspected.

“Is he—” you swallowed hard, nearly choking on your spit as you turned your face. You sighed the nerves out of your chest.

“He’s doing okay,” Wonwoo said, understanding exactly what you meant to ask.

There was honesty in his eyes. But then he looked back down at his empty coffee cup.

“He’s kind of a mess, but he’ll be fine,” he added. Now his voice carried a raw edge to it. “Mingyu has a tendency to fall too fast. Gets hurt in the process. Always.”

The words rang with a heavy familiarity. You blinked, trying to recall where you’d heard them before. It was in your kitchen. One morning, after Mingyu had stayed over. The ache in your heart returned. “I know,” you choked out. “He told me.”

“I’m sorry it ended like that,” Wonwoo said. “For both of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you blinked, confused.

The light glimmered off his glasses. You saw his dark eyes searching your face, his lips parting ever so slightly.

“I guess this is me offering you an olive branch,” he said with a polite smile. “I never meant to intimidate you—or make you feel like I didn’t like you.” He straightened up in his seat, bowing his head slightly. “I regret being an asshole to you.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re forgiven,” you said, warmth creeping into your chest. “But don’t think we’re friends now,” you teased.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a grin.

You smiled—and your eyes drifted to the camera bag on the stool beside him.

The shop was nearly deserted. Two girls browsed the graphic novel aisle, while a few others lingered near the coffee bar. It reminded you of The Spot—except with bookshelves and hanging plants, instead of bright neon signs and loud rock music.

“Do you come here often?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded. “It’s quiet. Coffee’s good. Cookies are even better,” he added, pointing to the pastry case behind the glass.

“Have you tried them all?” you asked, eyeing the double chocolate cookie.

“I haven’t tried the pumpkin one,” he shook his head lightly.

You ordered a chocolate cookie, thinking that you were probably in need of a sugar rush. But deep down, you were wary, trying to protect yourself from more questions that you were sure were about to start.

“Do you carry your camera everywhere?” you asked instead, motioning to the camera bag on the other seat next to him.

“Just when I have days off,” he shrugged. “Mingyu pushed me to do this photography course online, and they’re very strict about the homework so,” he clicked his tongue, patting the camera bag with one hand.

You wanted to huff, getting the familiarity of his words yet again. “You don’t say.”

You took a bite from your chocolate cookie, humming in delight as the chocolate chips melted on your tongue. Wonwoo glanced your way, smiling softly as he outlined the corner of the book cover with one fingertip.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, and it was the gentleness in his tone that really grounded you in reality.

You shook your head, swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself composed. “I’m not good at talking about things,” you pointed out.

But you didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the chocolate dimming your good senses. Maybe it was the coziness inside the book shop that made you feel wrapped up in warmth and the smell of fresh coffee.

Or maybe it was the sound of Wonwoo’s voice. Inviting, soft and comfortable like velvet.

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” you said, your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “I knew Mingyu was still healing from his previous relationship. But I still decided to stay, to be there for him. And he was really reassuring, you know? Sometimes he made me forget about his situation.”

You risked sending a quick glance at Wonwoo, and he nodded to you. “Yeah, I know,” he said gently.

“But one day he would tell me he wanted to be with me, and then he would disappear for days,” you added, and your throat closed up, your voice sounding bitter at the end of your sentence.

The atmosphere stilled, like stopping to witness your heartache. Even though time had passed, and you hadn’t seen Mingyu or talked to him again—the wound was still fresh. Flashes from when you sat at those bleachers haunted you, threatening to swallow you whole.

“It’s crazy because we were never anything serious,” you shrugged as a defense mechanism, like trying to get rid of the burden around your shoulders. “It was casual. No strings, no expectations—” you huffed a bitter laugh, tears brimming in your eyes. “But it hurts even more than when I broke up with my ex.”

Wonwoo shifted beside you, turning slightly on his seat to look at you better. “Your ex?” he muttered, so quietly that you barely heard him.

You nodded slowly, chewing on your lower lip. “Before Mingyu, I was with someone for years,” you said, and somehow, it felt easier to tell Wonwoo. As though nothing could hurt you anymore. “We lived together. I had plans and dreams of building a life with him, but…” You looked away, sighing tiredly. “He told me he wasn’t looking for marriage, nor something more serious.”

There was a pause. And you were sure that Wonwoo was waiting for you to say something else, but you just took another bite from your cookie.

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must’ve been really difficult for you,” he said, shifting again on his seat as he sighed deeply.

But your words started to sink into his mind. What happened with Mingyu was even more hurtful than what your ex-boyfriend did to you. Breaking up with someone after an unreconcilable difference was something—and by the time you broke up with him, you were already emotionally resigned.

But the feeling of almost being something cut even deeper.

You laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry I’m dumping all of this on you,” you told him, holding in your tears. “And after telling you that I wasn’t good at talking about serious stuff.”

Wonwoo shrugged, giving you a light, easy smile. “It’s the curse of a bartender,” he told you. “But I’m glad that you opened up. It’s already hard to deal with things, but to keep them all to yourself makes it suffocating.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you mumbled.

You placed your elbow on the counter, resting your chin on your fist. “So you took the photos that are hanging on your living room?” you asked promptly, making it obvious that you needed to change the subject.

And he caught it straight away. “A couple of them, yes,” he mumbled, looking down at his camera bag. “I’m actually thinking of taking a stroll near the river. I have this task I need to get done, and maybe I can snap some good photos there.”

Your tummy twisted. It was hard to read if it was an invitation or not, so you just nodded.

“If you wanna come and hang out, it’s fine by me,” he whispered, noticing the hesitation in your expression.

You saw the glint in his eyes, there was an easiness on the tiny smile he showed you.

You were almost about to decline. To tell him that you were busy and had a ton of things to do at home.

But you felt lonely. And there was nothing serious about his invitation. It was just hanging out.

“I’d like that,” you replied. But then you paused, “But before we go, I want to get some books.”

You stepped outside the shop and waited.

The pavement was slick with water from the light rain that had ceased moments before. The sky was still gray, blanketing the street with a quiet, gloomy heaviness.

Wonwoo followed soon after, now wearing the jacket he’d lent you. He glanced up at the sky and made a face. “This is not very ideal,” he muttered.

You nodded, adjusting the strap of your tote bag, which now hung heavy with books. “We could wait it out,” you offered with a shrug.

He looked around, scanning for shelter.

“Or,” you added, “we could just make our way to the river—take the opportunity while it’s not raining.”

Before he could respond, you were already heading down the street. Wonwoo fell into step beside you, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“What did you get?” he asked, nodding toward your tote bag.

“A couple of graphic novels,” you said, peeking into the bag. “I’m also doing a course—learning tips and tricks about graphic design.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You also got convinced to take a course?”

You nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Wonwoo patted his camera bag. “I see,” he murmured, voice low.

A silence fell between you. But it wasn’t awkward—not this time. It reminded you of that quiet day at the museum. Stillness, but not distance.

“This is nice,” you said.

He turned his head toward you. “What is?”

“Not trying to run off,” you answered. “Not pretending I’m okay.”

He blinked, visibly unsure how to respond. But he didn’t look away. Something about speaking plainly with him felt good. For the first time in months, you weren’t hiding. You didn’t have to pretend you weren’t hurting.

After a moment, Wonwoo pushed his glasses up. “It is nice,” he said softly.

Both of you walked in silence, the city slightly slowed and hushed by the cold rain. The river glinted ahead, catching what little light managed to break through the clouds.

Wonwoo paused, slipping his bag off his shoulder and unzipping it. “Wait,” he said.

You tilted your head. “You don’t want to get closer to the river?”

“This is okay,” he murmured, already adjusting his camera.

A twist tightened in your tummy when you realized the lens was pointing toward you. “Should I step away?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked through the viewfinder with quiet concentration. “Don’t move,” he murmured.

You obeyed, though your nerves got the better of you—you shifted slightly, turning your head to the side to avoid meeting the camera’s eye.

Through the lens, Wonwoo saw you standing alone on the path that led down to the river. The pavement was scattered with the last of autumn’s leaves, but it was your face that caught him—the distant, thoughtful look in your eyes. The way you refused to look at him, even though he was really seeing you. All of you.

When he lowered the camera, you exhaled. “You could’ve told me you needed a model.”

The faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe. But you would’ve said no.”

“True,” you admitted. “I’m not a model. I don’t know how to pose.”

“So you say,” he replied, brushing past you with a grin. “Stand over there.”

He pointed to a spot closer to the river, and you laughed under your breath.

“Fine. But you’re holding this.”

You shoved your tote bag full of books into his hands. He caught it with ease, the grin on his face widening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest ached a little less. There was something in his boyish smile, in the gentle playfulness behind his glasses. And without thinking, you moved to where he asked, standing without questioning his order.

But the moment you stopped, you became overly aware of your body—your arms, your shoulders, your mouth.

“Look at me,” Wonwoo said softly.

You did. And in that moment, you forgot what it meant to pose. You weren’t smiling. You weren’t guarded. You just looked at him. And he looked at you, the shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The camera clicked. And you waited for him to take another shot, or to move.

“That’s it?” you asked, blinking away from him.

“I got it,” he nodded, his voice slightly hoarse.

He lowered the camera, and his eyes lingered on you for a second longer than they should’ve. His gaze softened. He looked thoughtful for a moment, until he gave you a sheepish smile.

“You’re surprisingly good at this.”

You snorted. “Surprisingly?” you said with a laugh, stepping toward him. “I probably look like those Renaissance paintings where they were still figuring out how to paint cats.”

He laughed out loud. “You’d make a very cute ugly cat,” he teased.

Your cheeks flushed, and you almost hated that you were smiling at him. But then his eyes met yours again, and you felt that same shift in your chest. That stupid pull, that traitorous flutter of your heart.

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, motioning at his camera. “Would you like to see the picture?”

You hesitated for a second—unsure why it suddenly felt like it was a big deal to step in closer to him—but nodded. He stepped closer, holding out his camera. And you leaned in, your shoulder brushing his.

You tried to focus on the photo, but the proximity was almost dizzying, and the strong smell of peaches filled your head. Your breath hitched.

The photo wasn’t perfect. You instantly saw all of the little imperfections surrounding you. Your hair was windblown, your expression flat. But your eyes… there was a softness in your eyes. A realness in them.

“You see?” he said. “Surprisingly photogenic.”

“I look caught off guard,” you murmured sheepishly.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t look good,” he corrected gently.

Your heart thumped so hard that you were sure it was almost audible. But he didn’t look away.

You breathed in, trying to push the fluttering feeling out of you as you exhaled. “I should get going,” you said.

Wonwoo nodded, noticing the look in your eyes. “Your bag,” he said and unhooked the umbrella that you had lent him the other night. “Thank you for the umbrella and now the photos. I owe you one.”

You gave him a small smile. “You owe me nothing,” you told him. “It’s what friends do, right?”

Wonwoo paused, and for the first time, you wanted to get an in on what he was thinking. “Right,” he nodded.

Friends.

The apartment was dark when Wonwoo walked in, and only the faint light coming from the TV illuminated the way. Slipping off his shoes, he took his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack by the entrance.

Mingyu was on the couch, looking at his phone, not really watching anything. He was just sitting there, elbows planted on his knees, head bowed like he had been stuck in that position for a while before Wonwoo came home.

Wonwoo opened the fridge, took out a banana milk and punched the hole with the little straw. He sipped quietly, afraid to break the silence.

But it was Mingyu who spoke first. “You were out late.”

Wonwoo leaned against the counter, pressing his elbows against it. “Yeah. I went to the bookstore. Took some photos near the river.”

Mingyu nodded slowly, still not looking at him.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked slowly, starting to feel worried.

Mingyu shook his head. “I ruined everything.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything right away. The rawness in Mingyu’s voice made Wonwoo’s heart falter.

“I keep thinking about her. About what I did,” Mingyu said, putting his phone away.

Wonwoo caught a glimpse of your profile photo on the display. His heart dropped to his stomach. “So call her.”

Mingyu gave a small, empty smile. “It’s not that simple,” he said, rolling his eyes with an annoyance that Wonwoo was sure was directed towards something else, not him.

“No, I know it’s not simple,” he said. “But it’s a start.”

Mingyu finally looked up, his tired eyes finding Wonwoo’s. “Would you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “If you had broken her heart, would you do it?”

Wonwoo shrugged, like the answer was clear as day. “If I cared about her, yeah. I would.”

Wonwoo remembered your sad smile. He remembered the brittle sound of your voice when you talked about your past heartbreak.

Mingyu looked away, shaking his head. “She deserved better than the way I left things.”

Wonwoo’s throat tightened, it was hard to swallow. He thought about the photos in his camera. About you. Your eyes. The way you were finally starting to laugh again.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo said softly. “Yeah, she does.”

But Mingyu didn’t catch the shift in his tone. He locked his phone, deciding to not call you, nor text you. Not yet.

“I’m not ready,” Mingyu said, rising from the couch.

Wonwoo watched him walk to his bedroom, locking the door behind him.

After a moment, Wonwoo decided to head to his bedroom, closing the door with a soft click.

He leaned against the door for a long second, letting his head rest back, closing his eyes. The silence inside the apartment felt heavier—a hundred times worse than before.

He pressed the Enter button on his keyboard, bringing his computer to life. The hum coming from the fans of his computer started to fill the room. Wonwoo used the faint light coming from his double monitors to look for a change of clothes, something comfortable, before he sat down to work.

After he found a pair of black shorts and an oversized white t-shirt, he sat down on his chair, getting his camera out of its bag.

He scrolled through the different photos he got from the day at the museum. And then the photos he got from today. Photos of the wet pavement, the river, and the leaves scattered on the floor.

And you.

Wonwoo’s breath caught when he saw a photo he didn’t realize he had caught. In this photo, you weren’t looking at the camera. There was a softness in your features, a sad look in your eyes. The way you stood in the light, the shadows pooling at your feet.

Wonwoo stared at the photo, his finger hovering on the right click for a second before he moved the photo to another folder. One that wasn’t destined for the task.

He leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his long, dark hair. He didn’t want to feel guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he knew this. But the weight in his heart begged to differ.

Wonwoo reached for his phone as he chewed on his bottom lip.

Then, with a laboured sigh, he opened your chat.

The last message between you and him was a simple thank you. You’d sent it after the museum. It was simple, friendly.

Wonwoo hesitated, flexing his fingers over the keyboard before typing: “it was good seeing you today”

And that was it. He put the phone away, face down on his desk and dropped his head back against the chair. His heart was doing that stutter that it hadn’t done in a while.

In years, even.

Things happen randomly sometimes. You weren’t looking for your life to be derailed one Sunday night. Not on purpose, at least.

You were curled up on your bed, scrolling numbly through your phone, a thing that would eventually lead to falling asleep, but you weren’t having any luck yet.

Your phone started vibrating in your hands, and the picture of your best friend from college, Mona appeared on the screen.

You had been dodging her calls lately, feeling like your recent actions might bring her judgment. But something about her calling late at night spiked your intrigue.

You swiped your thumb across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey there,” Mona replied, and something about her tone was off.

“Is everything okay?” you asked curiously.

“I need you to sit down,” Mona instructed bluntly.

You sat up on your bed, reclining on the headboard. “What’s happening?”

“Listen, I’m only doing this because I don’t want you to find out by other means.”

“Please, Mona, just tell me,” you sighed tiredly, already feeling the weight of anxiousness seeping in.

“Jay is getting married.”

You stopped cold. It was as though you were abruptly submerged into a pool of ice-cold water. Your body was too slow and too heavy to muster a reaction.

“W-what?” you blurted. A part of you felt like your friend was playing a really bad prank on you.

“Jay just announced his engagement,” she repeated, and you could hear the raw rage in her tone.

“H-how do you know?” you stammered, trying to compose yourself with slow and deep breaths.

Mona didn’t get along with your ex-boyfriend. Or with anyone who was still related to him. You knew this.

“Someone sent me screenshots. Look—I don’t mean to put you in a bad spot, but,” she paused, and you could tell from the deep sigh coming out of her that she was debating to tell you more. “But you deserve to know. Before someone else tells you and makes it worse.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your breath catching painfully against your ribs. “Thank you, Mona,” you told her.

“I got you,” she said right before hanging up.

It was about two seconds later that she sent you two pictures. There he was. Your ex. Smiling in a way you hadn’t seen in years, his arm slung around someone else’s shoulders. It was a girl you didn’t recognize. But she was cute. Glowing with a radiant smile on her face, showing off her brand new engagement ring.

The caption under the photo made your stomach lurch.

To a future together- Mr. and Ms. Bang 💞

You stared at the photo. Read the caption. Then stared at the photo again.

The screen blurred, and you realized that your hands were shaking.

No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

You left the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as though you could fix the stabbing pain in your chest.

You weren’t supposed to care anymore. You stopped caring about your ex long ago. But the pain was raw, eating at your heart quickly. It hurt so deep you couldn’t breathe.

It was like you were sitting at that basketball court again. With nothing but your aching heart in your hands.

The room was spinning, and everything felt wrong. You got out of bed, grabbed your hoodie, keys, and shoved your phone in your pocket. And without thinking, you scrambled to the door.

You needed to get out of there. You needed to move, to do something.

It rained again on the walk to the nearest convenience store. But you didn’t bother with an umbrella this time. You let the drizzle soak into your hair, your hoodie, your sneakers.

Maybe the rain could help wash this pain out of you. Maybe the rain could fix whatever was broken inside you.

You grabbed a couple of bottles of alcohol, not caring what you took with you and paid.

You were walking out of the convenience store when you bumped into him. A tall, hard frame that almost had you stumbling back onto the floor, weren’t for those hands holding you steady.

You looked up, your heart stopping at once when you saw the man who had helped you catch your step.

“Careful there,” Jeon Wonwoo said, helping you catch your step.

His gaze swept over you—taking in your soaked hoodie, your damped hair, your hurt, glassy eyes.

“Sorry,” you said awkwardly, looking down at your feet.

Rain continued to fall, slowly, trickling down the back of your head and soaking through your clothes. You were sure that Wonwoo had already spotted the state you were in, and the bag with bottles of alcohol inside.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you, studied you.

And saying nothing was somehow worse. Because it meant that he saw all of you. He saw the way you could barely hold yourself together. Your lip quivered. You hated yourself. You hated the power that you had given to other people to make you feel this way.

You blinked rapidly, trying to fight the sting in your eyes. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I was heading back home but—” Wonwoo took a cautious step towards you, like approaching something wounded and dangerous.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, his voice barely audible. “You’re okay?”

The stupid kindness in his voice snapped something inside you.

The first sob ripped from your throat without any warning. It was sharp, humiliating. It told of the many days and nights you contained yourself. You clamped a hand over your mouth, but it was far too late.

Wonwoo swayed towards you, closing the distance. He didn’t touch you, not right away. He just stood there, as though figuring out what to do. Figuring out what he wanted to do.

Something broke loose in you. Without thinking, you stumbled forward, crashing into his chest. Your hand clutched the front of his jacket, twisting the fabric.

Wonwoo caught you with not even a second of hesitation, wrapping you in a big hug. Like he was holding you to keep you from falling onto the ground.

You didn’t question it, and neither did he. It was a simple gesture. A human connection.

You cried against his chest, broken, shuddering gasps tearing out from your chest as the flood you had been containing finally broke loose. A part of you wanted to explain to him why you were crying. But you couldn’t make out the words—the pain was so great, greater than you.

You had broken your promise.

“I’m sorry,” you said disjointedly, backing away from him while wiping your tears.

“It’s okay,” he said, sending a look around. “Where are you going with that?” he asked, motioning to the paper bag you were holding in one arm.

“To my home,” you sniffled, pointing down the street.

“Do you need company?” he said politely, but you realized he wasn’t taking a no for an answer. “Let me walk you there.”

You wondered how messed up you really looked like that, he felt compelled to walk you home. “Okay,” you agreed, and started walking towards your apartment building.

The walk was quiet. Your head was so filled with different thoughts that you couldn’t bring yourself to say something.

You didn’t remember the walk to your building. But you remember standing beneath the awning, turning around, and sending a flitting glance up to his face.

“Do you need to talk?” he asked slowly. It was a simple question.

Your throat tightened, and burned. Gnawing on your lower lip, you nodded.

A worried expression flashed across the features of his face. It was for a second, fleeting.

“Come upstairs?” you asked, and the sorrow and desperation rose in your tone, showing in your eyes. “Please.”

His mouth parted ever so slightly. He surely must’ve realized the implications of him coming to your apartment. But what exactly was to be expected?

“Of course.”

Stepping inside your apartment with Wonwoo following you closely felt surreal. But everything else going on in your life made it shrink in comparison.

“Come in,” you whispered, leaving your sneakers at the front door, closing it once Wonwoo followed you inside, watching you closely.

You hadn’t even turned the lights off when you walked out of your apartment. You left the bag on the counter before grabbing a bottle, cracking it open and gulping down three large mouthfuls of straight alcohol.

Wonwoo blinked in shock. “Oh, God,” he stammered, watching you as though he needed to do something soon. “Calm down.”

You exhaled heavily, using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. You motioned the bottle to him, raising your eyebrows.

But he shook his head. “I don’t drink,” he said politely.

“Okay, then,” you shrugged, drinking down another three large gulps.

Wonwoo watched you intently, crossing his arms as the muscles of his jaw tightened. “You’re scaring me,” he said finally.

You laughed—a raw and broken sound. It tore from your chest. “Good,” you said, putting the bottle down.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low. He tilted his head forward, his eyes zeroing in on you.

You shook your head, commanding your gaze to look anywhere else but his face. But sadness started to seep in, like icy venom running through your veins. Anger and humiliation took over so fast that you couldn’t stop the muscles of your face from contracting.

“My ex,” you choked out. “Remember him? The one I spent years with, the one who swore he would never be ready for commitment?”

Wonwoo’s posture shifted slightly, his mouth parted with realization before you could even speak out the following words:

“He’s just got engaged,” you said, your tone breaking in the middle of your sentence. “He’s getting married to someone else. Someone good enough.”

The words were heavy, bitter on your tongue. And even if they weren’t true to some extent, they hurt to say.

Wonwoo’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t say anything. He blinked slowly once, breathing in through his nose. And when he opened his eyes again, you saw anger flashing in his eyes. But you also saw pity in them.

You laughed again, the sound dry and almost miserable. “It’s not like I care about him,” you spat. “It’s not about him.” You looked down at your hands, trembling around the bottle of alcohol. “It’s about me.”

You finally raised your gaze, making eye contact with him. You hated the broken worry you saw in his eyes. The way his eyebrows twitched, and his dark eyes searched your face. You wondered what he was seeing in your face that made him react that way.

“It’s gotta be me, right? I have to be the common denominator,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It’s always me. I’m not good enough to stay for.”

You let out a sigh that sounded more like a sob. A broken moan of loneliness, heaviness. A storm that was brewing deep inside you, and it wasn’t just because of this recent turn of events.

“But that’s not it,” you said, hot tears brimming in your eyes as your voice rose: “It’s everyone. No matter what I do. I’m always someone’s almost.”

Your voice cracked in the last word, and you had to bit down on your lip to stop it from trembling.

Through the corner of your eye, you saw Wonwoo approaching, closing the space in your tiny kitchen. It was a cautious move, but steady. Determined.

“You’re not the problem,” he said firmly. “You’re better off without him. He’s an idiot.”

You laughed bitterly this time. “Right. Because Mingyu wasn’t another idiot who decided that I wasn’t enough either.”

Wonwoo flinched.

But you didn’t care if your words were harsh. You tipped the bottle between your lips again, downing the last bit of alcohol in it. You would feel its effects soon, and you were beginning to wonder if getting drunk was the right thing to do.

It would take the pain away. And you needed that.

“You really think I don’t know he fucked up?” Wonwoo said, his voice hard.

You blinked, your eyes snapping to his face. It was the first time you heard him cuss.

But he continued, taking another step towards you. “You think I don’t see it? You didn’t deserve any of it,” he said, his voice raw, and there was an edge to it that you couldn’t understand. “Not from him. Not from anyone.”

You swallowed your tears, your heart thumping so hard that it was starting to hurt in your chest. “You don’t know me,” you whispered.

Wonwoo didn’t skip a beat. “I know enough.”

Perplexion hit you, and part of you wanted to pause and listen to what he was saying. The look of pity painting the features of his face made you think that you were probably looking more broken apart than you had initially imagined.

But before you could stop yourself, you huffed a laugh, letting your tears go. “And what happens when you get to know me more?” you snapped. “You’ll leave like the rest of them.”

The features of his face contracted slightly, your words hitting somewhere he wasn’t letting show. “You don’t know that—”

“Save it,” you cut in, but the sharpness in your voice had lost its edge. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like—” your voice broke, and you blinked away from his gaze. “—to never be enough. To love someone and then watch them walk away to someone new.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t put that on me,” he said, his voice sounding rough. “Don’t tell me I don’t get it.”

“Then why do you have that look on your face?!” you shot back, wiping the tears with the back of your hand.

He ran a hand over his mouth, as though trying to smooth out the quiet rage that you had sparked. “You really think I don’t care,” he spat, the snappiness of his words making you flinch. He took another step, so close to you now that you could sense the storm shaking inside him. “You still think that I'm an asshole.”

Your breath hitched, making your brain swim inside your head. You were sure that it was the alcohol starting to take effect.

But you were also not equipped to hear this. You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want to feel this. Not now.

But it was too late. You had fractured the only thing that held Wonwoo’s composure. It was then that you saw him. His hair was ruffled, wet with the few droplets of rain he had caught on the way here. His glasses had slipped down the perfect bridge of his nose. He looked messy, angry, and out of control.

He pointed at his chest. “You think I like sitting on the sidelines?” he said darkly. He never raised his voice at you, but he was breathing hard. “You think I like to watch you like this over the people who hurt you?”

You froze, your heart stammering painfully against your chest. His words had hit you like a slap. “W-what?” you breathed, so shocked that you had stopped crying.

His breathing turned ragged, he looked torn. Like he was trying with everything in him to stop himself. Every inch of him trembled with the force of what he wasn’t supposed to say to you.

“You’re not a second choice.” He rasped, letting out a short sigh through his nose. It was done now. Too late to take it back.

His words stunned you. You should’ve reacted quicker, were it not for the feeling making your heart flutter. “Wonwoo—” you pleaded, but you didn’t realize that your body was moving. Moving towards him.

His hands grabbed your face, his fingers burying themselves in your wet hair, just as your hands found the front of his jacket.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was messy. Desperate. The kind of kiss that neither you nor he wanted, you could feel it in him. His lips captured yours with a vehemence that overpowered you completely. But your hands moved to the back of his neck, pulling him down into you like you needed him to breathe.

And Wonwoo kissed you back. He kissed you like he waited for so long to do that, his tongue brushed against your lip as he rolled it inside your mouth, tasting the alcohol in your tongue. He breathed out softly when he heard the broken moan he got out of you, and stopped.

You broke apart, panting. Wonwoo pressed his forehead against yours, and you realized as he dropped his hands from your face that he was shaking.

“I.. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raspy, low. He sounded lost. “I didn’t mean to, but...”

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice breaking.

But neither of you pulled away.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes. You wanted to cry. The very feeling that had made your heart flutter went wild, beating against your chest. You wanted to get rid of it—you wanted to rip your own heart out.

Slowly, Wonwoo peeled off your body, lifting his forehead from yours. You stepped back, your hands falling at your sides.

And with one deep breath, you raised your gaze to his face.

You had to put a hand on the counter for support. Your head started to swim with a remorseful pain. You knew this was wrong, but didn’t exactly know why. “Wonwoo—�� you said, unable to raise your voice any higher.

“I should go,” he cut in, as though the weight of what he had done just caught up with him. “This was wrong. I shouldn’t have come here.”

But Wonwoo looked torn. His face was painted in sick worry, his eyebrows were drawn, his mouth slightly twisted. Somehow, his words cut you deeper. You nodded, agreeing with him, but it cost you to breathe normally.

However, he did not attempt to move. His eyes read your face, and his gaze softened when he saw your eyes brim with tears again.

“I understand,” you whispered, bringing your fingers to cover your mouth to hold in your sobs.

Except that you couldn’t understand. Not really. You couldn’t understand why kissing you was such a bad thing. Mingyu left you.

And you were always the one who made it easier for everyone to go.

You could feel Wonwoo’s scrutiny on you. The way he silently absorbed every emotion showing on your face. Your face tickled with shame, the sensation spreading and lingering all over you. You shrank under his gaze.

The rain pattered lightly on the windows, the quiet, distant lightning illuminated the room for a second. But the space between you was heavy with everything neither of you wanted to say, despite it being obvious.

You had crossed a line you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“I-I’ll walk you to the door,” you said, your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence.

Then, you motioned to the door, walking past him in your tiny kitchen. Your shoulder brushed against his arm, feeling the way he moved towards you, his hand catching yours in one second.

You snapped your gaze to him, having no time to move or to stop him.

There was something in his eyes when you exchanged a short glance with him. He paused, but only to make sure that you wouldn’t back away.

Wonwoo kissed you again—this time more certain. There was no fumbling, no scrambling to get the kiss done in a rush. You closed your eyes, your hand searching for his wrist as he held your face, kissing you deeper.

His other hand found your waist, grabbing you to pull you into him. You could feel the warmth coming from his body, the way it seemed that he was still shaking, but it felt different this time. Like the quick beating of his heart wasn’t out of anxiousness of kissing you, but from finally doing it because he wanted to.

When you broke apart, both of you were panting, but Wonwoo didn’t stop kissing you. His lips brushed against your lower lip, giving you tiny, but feathery kisses that trailed to the corner of your mouth and to your cheek.

You could feel his quick breathing brushing against your skin, making it prickle. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your wet hair.

“This is wrong,” he repeated with a whisper, but now there was an air of finality in his tone. “But I want it.”

Your eyes fluttered closed again. The sound of his voice so close to your ear sent shivers down your spine. “W-what—I don’t understand, you said—”

“I wish I had answers right now,” he said, pulling back softly from you. He gave you a solemn look, his glinting eyes searching yours, searching for reasons to pull away from you, from this. “But I don’t think I can pretend any longer.”

“What?” you breathed warily, your heart skipping a beat.

He shook his head softly. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, taking a tiny step towards you. “I know that this is a lot for you right now. And I don’t have issues with stepping back, if that’s what you want.”

Everything inside you raged. It was a split-second of realizing that everything was upside down, everything was wrong. No matter what you felt, no matter how hard you tried, there was always something in the way.

And this time, your broken heart was the thing in the way.

“You deserve better,” you whispered. It slipped out before you could even stop yourself. You sounded raw and vulnerable.

His face shifted, his eyebrows knitted softly, his eyes reading your expression. “But I want you,” he said.

His words were like a thousand bricks falling on you. Everything that he told you came crashing down—about him being tired of being sidelined, of watching you torn apart for other people.

“I’m broken,” you whispered, and you wished to sound less angry about it, but there was an undeniable venom coating your words.

His fingers clenched your waist, resting his forehead against yours. “And I still want you all the same.”

You went still while your mind reeled with all the possible consequences that this might bring to your life. You were a mess.

“This is not a good idea,” you finally whispered. You were giving him all the reasons to walk away, to choose for himself before he let himself get involved with you.

His breath hitched slightly. “I know.”

You stepped back, but not far. You just wanted to look into his eyes, to get a read on what he so jealously protected with his mask. “Please…” you started, trying to select your words carefully, but your mind was swimming. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

One poison draws out another. Wonwoo remembered his friend’s words carefully.

His brows narrowed. “Don’t worry about me,” he whispered. And you realized that his hands had stopped shaking, but you knew he was still nervous about holding you this close.

You wanted to say something. You wanted to list out all of the reasons why you were not good for him.

But, God, you were lonely. And angry.

Wonwoo saw the quiet determination settling on the features of your face, making him step closer to hold you tightly to his body. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, one last confirmation before crossing that line, permanently.

Your head was swimming, but the determination weighed heavily in your heart. “I am,” you nodded. Then you slipped a hand on his nape, pulling him into a kiss just as he leaned towards you.

He circled your neck with one hand, holding you to kiss you fully, deeply. His lips fit with yours perfectly, moving seamlessly in a passionate way. This kiss was different, it was burdened with a heat that made you suspect he wanted to kiss you for a long time, but couldn’t.

This was wrong, but it felt so good.

And now, neither of you could stop.

It soon dawned on you that Wonwoo wasn’t stopping either. A wave of need and arousal rose within you, wrapped with a bitterness that you should’ve stopped to pay attention to.

Your hands skirted over the pads of his jacket, starting to peel it off. He helped you, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop to the floor. Wonwoo didn’t stop kissing you, and he did this with such force that you thought you could break.

Because that’s what you wanted. You wanted to be bad, to give in to the sticky feeling spreading inside your chest.

Neither of you stopped to talk, it was clear where the moment was leading down to.

Your movements were rushed, as though if you paused for longer than a second, you might start to regret this. You took his t-shirt off, messing up his glasses in the process.

Wonwoo smiled sheepishly, fixing his glasses back up. As he looked at you, there was an undeniable feeling that made your heart stutter.

You took his hand, staggering towards your bed, but Wonwoo pulled your body in before you could make it, quickly grabbing your hoodie to strip it off your body.

The hesitation, prudence, and any morsel of sanity that was holding you back evaporated. You fully gave in to the craving inside you once your clothes started to drop on the floor.

Wonwoo grabbed you by your bare waist, pulling you closer to his body to kiss you again. His hands roved all over your back, finding the clasp of your bra to undo it.

It happened fast, one by one, both of your clothes were discarded in between rushed kisses. None of you spoke a word, and you were thankful for that.

“Sit on the bed,” Wonwoo said with a rasp, his hands leaving your waist.

You obeyed without a second thought, sitting on the foot of your bed. Wonwoo pressed a knee on the edge of the bed, leaning over you and pushing you to lie back. His arms towered next to your shoulders, serving for support as he pressed his bare chest against yours.

He watched you for one long second, his gaze dark and lascivious. His hand returned to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip softly. “Stop me if you don’t want any of it,” he said.

“Wonwoo.” You called, feeling like you might just pass out from the wanton need brimming inside you.

“Mmn?” he raised his brows, his eyes studying your face.

You grabbed his face, holding his gaze. “Fuck me,” you whispered.

His eyes widened slightly. “How?” he replied.

“Just do it,” you said. But then, swallowing hard, you reconsidered. “Fuck me hard.”

He showed you a grin. It looked wicked, almost feline. But before he could explain where the smile was coming from, he was leaning again, brushing his lips against yours slowly, lightly. “Dirty girl,” he whispered into your mouth, kissing it softly.

A low, breathy moan escaped you at the sound of those words. “Please,” you begged, your lips still brushing against his.

You didn’t have to ask twice. Wonwoo kissed you deeply, removing his hand from your chin to find your waist. He sank down your body, leaving a trail of kisses from your mouth to your neck, then down to your chest.

His wet lips on your skin awoke something within you. It had been so long since you felt something at all that your skin was already prickling at the slightest touch. He kissed your chest, his hands cupping your tits, pushing them to make them bulge. He planted soft, slow kisses around your nipples, pulling out his tongue to glide it on your areolas.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hands cupping the back of his head.

His lips wrapped around one of your perked nipples, tugging at it lightly as his thumb teased your other nipple, brushing his pad against it. He hummed lightly, giving your breasts a couple of open-mouthed kisses before he continued exploring your body further down.

Your head was spinning, and you had to force yourself to close your eyes. The sight of him getting down on his knees before the bed was so arousing to you that you shuddered from it.

He gently nudged your thighs apart, propping them on his shoulders as he leaned against your body to press his lips on your inner thighs. He taunted you with kisses, bringing out sweet moans from you as he came closer and closer to your dripping wet pussy.

“Please,” you whispered, feeling his breath fanning against your skin, the tip of his tongue brushing before he pressed another kiss on your inner thigh.

That was all he needed. His mouth was on you, licking you, tasting you. You arched your back off the mattress, your hands balling into fists around the covers. The first brush of his tongue against your folds made your whole body come to life.

You moaned loudly, closing your eyes so hard you saw stars. “Fuck, Wonwoo!” you cried out, already panting for air, making yourself dizzier.

He forced your thighs open, burying his mouth on your pussy like he had something to prove. He didn’t do the bare minimum, no. He licked every single inch of your cunt, exploring it with his tongue, and repeating the things that brought the loudest moans from you.

So he quickly realized that teasing your clit was the way to go. He wrapped his lips around your clit, pressing his tongue on it before starting to flick it from side to side.

You didn’t know what to do, between grabbing his hair or holding onto the covers, you felt like you were about to pass out from pleasure. Your head was spinning, your whole body tingling with your orgasm.

His fingers slid between your folds, finding your pooling entrance. The first slide of his fingers into you tipped you over the edge, tearing a loud, raspy moan from your chest. You went rigid, letting the fiery waves of your orgasm consume you wholly, making you whine and moan pathetically.

His fingers massaged into you, bringing out lewd, wet sounds from out of your cunt. He was now giving slow, thorough kisses, drinking in your arousal, moaning with you.

“Wonwoo…” you called weakly, brushing his hair back with tired fingers.

You were more than ready for him now.

So you sat up, trying to push him back so you could finish undressing him.

Wonwoo understood what you wanted without having to speak up. He rose to his feet, and your tummy twisted when you caught sight of his dishevelled form. His hair was ruffled, and his glasses hung low on the bridge of his nose. There was a glistening wetness on his chin.

Your thumbs fumbled to take his boxers off, tugging at the waistband clumsily. You raised your gaze, finding his eyes before you pushed the last piece of clothing he wore down.

A sudden rush invaded you. There was no going back now. And you wanted this, you needed this.

You swallowed hard, revelling at the sight of his naked body. Wonwoo was lean, the muscles of his abdomen were well-defined, dipping between his bulging pectorals. His shoulders were wide, and his biceps were toned.

There was a soft, dark trail of hair from his belly button, which you followed down with your gaze. Your breath hitched. He was huge—not that girthy—but the length of it almost made you doubt whether it would fit inside you.

“You’re very sexy,” you stammered, looking away in shyness.

But he used a hand to cup your chin, tipping your head back so he could meet your gaze. “You’re very sexy too,” he said.

You gave him a small smile, grabbing his hand as you lay back on the bed. Wonwoo followed you, his body towering over yours.

He pushed one of your thighs with his knee, crawling on top of you and framing your head with his arms. His lips trapped yours in a feathery kiss, smearing your arousal on your chin.

He tensed, his breath hitching when you wrapped your fingers around his hard cock. “Do you have condoms?” he whispered.

“Mm-mmn,” you shook your head, rolling your hand all over him.

You lifted your knees to your chest, gliding the tip of his cock between your folds.

“Raw?” he breathed, still giving you sweet kisses.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded.

“Words, baby,” he said with a rasp, pulling away to look at your face. “Use them.”

You blinked at him slowly, not hiding the lust that was threatening to consume you whole. “Fuck me raw,” you pleaded.

Your words had an effect on him; his gaze darkened. He grabbed your wrists with one hand, driving them above your head and pinning them there. He notched his cock on your entrance, and that was the only warning he gave you before sinking inside you.

Your mouth dropped open, a silent gasp coming out of him as Wonwoo pushed his cock inside you, looking into your eyes, grabbing every detail, every reaction showing on your face.

Wonwoo blinked slowly, letting out a breath through his nose once he sheathed himself completely in your walls. “Fuck,” he whispered. And that might’ve been the first time you heard him cuss like that.

You closed your eyes, struggling to breathe. He released your hands, and you found his shoulders, your fingers shaking slightly against his skin.

Wonwoo trapped your lips with his, kissing you deeply, his tongue brushing against the roof of your mouth. Slowly, you felt your body relaxing, your walls fluttering and easing around him. You moaned into the kiss, just as he pulled his hips back slowly, making you feel every raw inch of his long dick.

You whimpered slightly as he pushed into you, still slow but deeper this time, his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

He slipped a hand beneath your head, his fingers curling around your hair. “You okay?” Wonwoo whispered, his lips lingering on yours slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied, breathing fitfully.

It was the only confirmation he needed before he drove into you, picking up a pace. Panting, he gave you a quick kiss on your lips before he started plowing on you.

He started fucking you hard, fast. As though the anger from the argument he had with you returned and he wanted to fuck the steam out of his system. His thrusts became rougher, calculated, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck, Wonwoo,” you whimpered, your mind going blank. “Please, please, don’t stop,” you were begging again, losing control. Pleasure started to build inside you again, and you were afraid that the alcohol you had consumed before was also pushing you closer to your second orgasm.

Wonwoo was panting, his breath brushing against your cheek before he kissed it. “Cum for me, baby,” he muttered darkly.

It was maddening to think that the shy, quiet and reserved guy could talk to you like that. Let alone, fuck you like that. And he was not slowing down, his thrusts were brutal, pushing his cock deeper each time.

You didn’t have the space to breathe, nor to give him any warning. You could only give him a couple of sharp gasps right before you orgasmed again. You cried out, the sound whiny, raspy, while your orgasm rippled through you.

Wonwoo groaned, feeling your pussy clamp tightly around his cock. Burying his face on the crook of your neck, you felt his laboured breaths, right before his lips latched onto your skin, sucking a lovebite into it.

“Fuck—Wonwoo,” you gasped. Unable to do anything else but give in to the sweet rapture.

Wonwoo heard you, peeling off your neck to kiss your lips swiftly. “Where do you want me?” he asked with a strangled tone.

You could feel your walls flutter around him at the sound of his words. You considered it for half a second, but then— “Inside,” you whispered. “Cum inside me, Wonwoo. Please.”

He grunted, leaning to press his forehead against yours. His fist tightened around your hair, just as his strokes became harder, and deeper, fucking his cum into you.

Wonwoo was panting tiredly as he dropped his face on the crook of your neck again.

You stared into the void, wrapping your arms around him, realizing that you body was shaking.

Slowly, as though coming to his senses, Wonwoo peeled off your body, but just barely. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. His glasses were slightly fogged, which he fixed with one hand. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head on your pillow.

Wonwoo’s brows knitted softly.

“I’m okay,” you replied, realizing your voice was hoarse, you swallowed. “I promise.”

He was still breathing hard, so he just smiled tiredly at you. He sat back on his haunches, gently pulling out of you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You blinked at him dumbly.

He pointed with his finger to one side of his neck. “I did that,” he put in meekly.

You instantly brought a hand to your neck, right on the spot that was tingling and hot. “It’s okay,” you sighed.

Wonwoo paused, making sure that you were indeed alright. “Want me to bring you something to clean up?”

“No, I’ll just take care of it in the bathroom,” you said, rolling over on your bed. Once you stood on your feet, the whole room spun around you, making you giggle.

“Careful,” he said, springing into action. He rose from the bed, stretching an arm toward you to keep you from stumbling to the ground.

“I’m okay,” you said. Staggering to the bathroom, you got to see the red spot right on the curve of your neck.

But you couldn’t care less.

After weeks, you could finally feel something again. Something other than the fucking misery that seemed to follow you everywhere you went.

Part of you wondered when the moment would be to start feeling bad about this. But you realized that you were too tired to feel remorseful about fucking Mingyu’s best friend.

You’d feel dirty tomorrow.

Wonwoo’s phone buzzed somewhere on the floor. It was buried in the scattered clothes, beneath his jeans. He picked it up, his heart jolting nervously when he read Mingyu’s name on the screen.

“crashing late?” read Mingyu’s text.

Wonwoo chewed on his lower lip. “yeah, sorry, something came up” he replied.

You were back in the room, rummaging in your drawers, looking for a t-shirt to cover your bare body.

You didn’t notice the worry flashing across Wonwoo’s face. “Hey,” you called softly.

Wonwoo was already looking at you, thinking of what to do. “Hey,” he mumbled, giving you a tiny but sweet smile.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you asked meekly, realizing that your request might be too much, you added. “I don’t want to be alone,” you added with a note of sincerity.

The tight feeling trapping his heart eased. “Of course,” Wonwoo replied, locking his phone before climbing onto the spot next to you on the bed.

As you lay back, you sent him a fleeting glance, biting your bottom lip.

Wonwoo smiled when he saw the hesitation in your demeanor. “Come here,” he whispered, motioning you closer to him.

You gave him a light smile. “Okay,” you whispered, deciding to scoot closer to his body.

“We can cuddle, if that’s what you want,” he said with a knowing smile, despite the shyness he was exuding.

You let out a guilty giggle, realizing that you were subconsciously expecting aftercare with him. And Wonwoo was more than willing to give you just that.

“Don’t make it weird,” you mumbled shyly.

“We just had sex, and you think I’ll consider cuddling weird?” he laughed.

“Just… shut up,” you sighed.

He didn’t reply, just watched you as you moved towards him beneath the covers. You rested your head on his chest, just as he wrapped an arm around you, hugging you comfortably to his frame.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice like velvet against your senses.

You tilted your head back, glancing at his face. “Yes,” you replied. “This is nice,” you told him, turning your head again to nuzzle against his warmth.

Wonwoo wrapped a hand around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Rest up,” he whispered gently, kissing your brow.

But you were already dozing off, only being able to reply with a sweet hum before you were completely gone.

Wonwoo waited until the rhythm of your breathing deepened to raise his phone, unlocking it to read Mingyu’s last messages.

“I regret everything,” the first message read.

And then the last two read,

“I want to fix it.

But I don’t know how.”

☾ author's note: alexa, play bittersweet

this author's note is to once again, thank you for your support! the feedback i got from the previous chapter. i was amazed by the amount of comments and asks that i got! 🥺 i still can't believe the amount of people who commented, reblogged and came to my inbox to say something! i love you all!

this post has been in my drafts since january 2024 🫥 and since i posted the previous part of this series, a lot, and i do mean a lot of you guys came to me with questions about whether or not i had something planned for our wonwoo. i didn't want to give too much away because it would've ruined what i had planned.

well, this is how wonwoo is going to debut in his own series; in the wicked games series.

fun, right? 🙂

same as always, y'all know the drill. if you have something to say, comment it down below, share your opinions anonymously, reblog, like this post, share it with your grandma 🙂

yell at me, if that's what you want but keep it civil :D

i love you, thank you for reading!

toodles

☆ STAY TUNED FOR PART VI! ☆ | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME COFFEE? ♡

#CHANGKYUN CAMEO #we looooove 🥺💗#but also like what the heck #my face reading this whole chapter 😦#I DID NOT EXPECT THIS #writer nim you’ll be hearing from my lawyer 😭😭😭😭#but also like 🫶🏼 this is amazing and im hooked

616 notes · View notes

cosmicwoo · 2 months ago

Text

i've seen this movie before | wicked games series | k. mg

You expected to get answers, knowing well that the truth hurts. But to love blindly hurts even more.

☆ pairings: kim mingyu x female reader ☆ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ☆ aus: bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, no strings attached ☆ word count: 10.7k

› CHAPTER ONE – CHAPTER TWO – CHAPTER THREE – READ MORE

☆ warnings: talks about relationships, ghosting. smut with plot, soft dom reader, unprotected p in v sex, reader is on birth control, oral sex (m. receiver), hard to soft fucking, creampies, cowgirl, cockwarming. reader is chubby. pet names: baby, shorty, sugar, sweetheart (hers)

☆ author's note: so.... i kind of love writing this story. i have so many other projects that i need to work on but this just swallowed me whole. i don't know what it is, but i'm also starting to think that mingyu might be climbing on my bias list as well. help me

anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!! 🩵

☆ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

i’ve seen this movie before

“I care about you.”

Mingyu remained silent, looking at you intently. And in your state of emotional distress, you struggled to know what he tried to tell you with his eyes.

But seconds passed, and you became increasingly anxious. You suddenly felt like a prisoner in your own space. You wanted to leave, to vanish into thin air.

The memory of the night you broke up with your ex lingered in your mind. The way he discarded you like it was nothing. You remembered the night you confronted him, expecting to get answers, knowing that the truth hurts. But to love blindly hurts even more.

You didn’t look at him. Not knowing what would happen next, you tried to hide your face. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes. You felt nervous, and somehow, humiliated. Like all this time, you had been pretending to be this perfect girl while underneath, you were hiding so much.

No, not hiding. But trying to be yourself again despite the pain you suffered and endured.

You stared at the small mole on his chest, bracing yourself for rejection.

But instead, Mingyu grabbed your hand, squeezing it with his own. “Hey,” he said softly.

You looked up, finally meeting his gaze. There was no hesitation there, just something soft.

“Thank you for telling me,” he mumbled. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles. “I know it wasn’t easy, so I’m really glad that you did.”

You tried to smile, but all you did was show him a pained expression. “Y-you don’t have to say anything back,” you stammered. “I know that this is a lot—”

Mingyu cut you off with a kiss. It was slow, intentional. Like he needed to convey what he was feeling without words. His lips locked with yours, kissing you slowly, deeply. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I care about you,” he said quietly. “A lot more than I planned to.”

Your breath hitched softly. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” he smiled, pulling back slightly to look at your eyes for a long second. He brushed your hair back from your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The relief that washed over you made your chest swell, and your eyes sting. You leaned into him, curling tighter in his warmth, his arms wrapped around you as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He pressed his cheek against the top of your head, his hand caressing your back as he hugged you. “I don’t know where this is going,” he drawled sleepily after a moment. “But I want to keep going. With you.”

You didn’t trust your voice to hold steady, so you held him tighter instead, letting the warmth of his body reassure you. His hand returned to caress your back, then transitioned to the back of your head.

His fingers threaded your hair, sinking into the messy strands, tangling, and softly letting go. It was so soothing that you felt like easing into a quick sleep. You stayed like that for a long time—wrapped in his big arms, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, feeling the pulse of his heart, the slow rhythm of his breathing.

“We should clean up,” you whispered after a long moment.

Mingyu exhaled softly. “Don’t wanna get up now,” he replied with a muffled laugh. His cheek was still pressed against your hair, his arms hugging you cozily.

You pushed away from his embrace, but he just dragged you back in again. “Gyu,” you giggled sweetly. “I gotta go clean up,” you said, motioning to the bathroom door.

Mingyu released you, but with a begrudged sigh.

You caught his gaze, trained on you as you made your way to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Facing the mirror, you felt a twist in your tummy when you saw the vulnerable girl looking back at you. You didn’t like what you saw—big teary eyes, cheeks flushed, lips chapped from kissing him.

You didn’t understand why you didn’t like your own reflection then. But as you let the thought sink in, you understood what you saw.

You were falling in love. And it was scary.

A few minutes later, you came back to find Mingyu asleep, still naked. Carefully, you climbed on the bed, crawling to his side and getting under the covers.

Like a magnet, his arms found your body. He pulled you in, sighing blissfully when he nuzzled his face against your hair. You stayed like this for some minutes, enjoying the sound of Mingyu’s steady breathing. But you turned over, facing him while still wrapped in his arms.

His hand climbed from your waist to your cheek, cupping it softly before pressing his lips against yours. “Sleep, baby,” he commanded with a sleepy drawl. Then, he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers. “I got you,” he whispered.

You breathed out through your nose, your whole body easing into his embrace, and you let yourself close your eyes. You could feel his heartbeat below the palm of your hand, calm and steady.

It was the rhythm of his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing that finally lulled you to sleep. But deep down, you were relieved that you had confessed part of what troubled your mind, and that might’ve been the reason why you could fall asleep so easily.

You got one confession down. Now you just had to confess to him that you were falling in love.

The sunlight felt different that morning. Upon blinking slowly, you saw it pour inside your apartment from the parted curtains that you once again forgot to close last night. It was a dim light, pale, even. It made you think that the morning was looking cloudy.

But you closed your eyes again, deciding to sink back into the last bits of a dream you were having.

Mingyu had his arm rested across your waist, his chest pressed against your back, one leg tangled over yours. The weight of his body brought you a comfort that nothing else could, and his warmth made you want to stay there forever.

You were almost completely sure that he hadn’t let go of your body through the whole night. He held you just like the other nights you’ve shared a bed with him. It brought you another sense of comfort to know that the conversation from last night hadn’t change that at all.

So you just lay there, breathing him in. The scent of citrusy coconut, mixed with vanilla, lingered on his skin, and you knew that it would linger on the pillowcases as well. It was so familiar, so warm.

You stirred slightly, feeling the weight of his leg linked with yours starting to numb you. Mingyu felt you shifting, and moved his leg too.

“G’morning,” he murmured, his voice raspy but still sweet.

You smiled before you could stop yourself. A warm feeling bloomed in your tummy. “Good morning,” you replied.

Mingyu leaned in and pressed a kiss on your shoulder.

But then, he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, blinking in the pale morning light.

You turned on your back, watching him as he looked around. “I should probably head back,” he said gently, moving out of the bed and starting to gather his clothes. “Grab a shower. Change before work.”

You nodded, sitting up too, with the bedsheets wrapped around your chest. “Yeah. Of course.”

Mingyu finished putting on his clothes, sending a look at you as he buckled his belt. Something about your appearance made him smile, bending over to cup your face with his hands.

“Thanks for last night,” he mumbled before giving you a tender kiss.

You gave him a small smile, the fluttering in your heart made it impossible to do anything but nod at him.

“And I meant what I said,” he added, looking at you with that same softness from the conversation of last night. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your throat thickened. You reached out to grab his wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Okay.”

You thought about asking what would happen now—about the strings, expectations. You wanted to ask if his “not going anywhere” only meant in the sense of your casual relationship.

But you felt like it was too much, too soon.

Mingyu gave you one last kiss. “I’ll call you,” he said, pulling away from you entirely.

You watched him walk to the door, and when the door closed behind him, you felt deeply unsettled by the silence in your apartment.

And once again, the quiet didn’t mean peace. It meant something else. Something you had spent months trying to get rid of. But now for someone new.

Water trickled down the pot of the hanging plant in one corner of your apartment. You watered your plants in silence, one by one. You realized that in your routine, you had grown accustomed to watering all of your plants in the same order. From the main door, then further inside.

You moved carefully through your apartment, like you didn’t want to disturb the peace in your surroundings.

You did what you normally would do. You did the laundry. Folded it. You prepared your meals, cleaned afterwards. You opened a book, read a few words then closed it. It was as though every part of you was trying to go about your day as normally as you could.

But you were on autopilot. You recognized this feeling.

You hated it. The silence. The stillness.

You breathed in, grabbed your phone and checked it.

No calls.

No texts.

Nothing new.

It had been some days since you saw Mingyu. And though he hadn’t fully stopped texting you or calling you, you felt anxious during the moments when he didn’t.

You made coffee. Cleaned up the blankets and pillows on the couch. You lit a candle, opened the window. Turned on the fan, letting some noise fill in the silence.

You reached for your phone again, starting to feel a new obsession growing inside. And sighed before you could even see that you had no new notifications again.

This is normal, you told yourself. People had lives. Jobs. Things to do.

You turned on the TV, letting something mindless play in the background to add to the numbing buzzing sound of the fan. It didn’t help. The apartment felt too still. Like it was holding its breath waiting for something.

There was a tightness in your chest that you couldn’t quite get rid of.

But still, you forced yourself to do something other than obsessively looking at your phone. So you sat down, opened your laptop, and searched the words: Graphic Design For Beginners.

And as you went along revising your options, and sipping your coffee mug, you felt yourself relax.

This was probably just your inner fears seeping in, trying to betray you. Your heart was still wounded from your previous relationship, even though it was learning to love again.

So you just convinced yourself that he was busy. He’d call soon.

You focused on yourself.

And suddenly you didn’t feel too scared to breathe. You enrolled in a course and made the decision to get back into what you loved before your life changed. Before you met your ex and you gave up your aspirations to become a graphic designer.

You were once again stepping back into the old you.

Your phone buzzed on the table. And your first instinct was to scramble to get it. But you kept yourself composed as you reached out for it, expecting yet another disappointment.

But it was Mingyu. Seeing that he texted made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey baby

I’ve been busy, that’s why I haven’t called

I miss you like crazy.”

And just like that, it was like you could breathe again.

The days went on like most of your others, slow, quiet. Anticipating.

You returned to the gym some days after, secretly hoping that you would run into Mingyu, now that you knew for certain that he also went to the same gym.

The gym wasn’t as crowded as usual, but it was loud and buzzing with music.

You went through your usual warmup—stretching, moving around, adjusting your earphones, changing songs on your playlist, trying not to think about how quiet your phone had been again.

“Well, well, well,” you heard behind you as you were looking for a song to play. “If it isn’t my favorite person.”

You paused, turning to see Jungkook. He stood a few feet away, sleeves rolled up to show off his tattooed arms. He wore his usual black uniform, adorned with a black beanie and that stupid grin on his face.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “Hi there to you too,” you replied.

“I’m sorry, am I seeing a ghost?” he joked. “You haven’t been here for days. I was beginning to think you were dead.”

You gasped. “Well, I’m here,” you said half-heartedly. “Still alive.”

“I’m glad,” he nodded. Then he sent a look around the gym. “You’re training all by yourself today?”

You hesitated, and you noticed him catching that. “Yeah,” you said.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes slightly, but nodded. He started to turn around, but then something dragged him back to you. “Hey, after this, do you want to grab a smoothie with me?” he asked nervously, and then stammered: “A-as friends, of course.”

You were half-expecting him to tell you something like that. You nodded, giving him a kind smile. “Sure.”

The walk from the gym to the smoothie shop was quiet. You could feel Jungkook quietly forming something to say. He would open his mouth, turn to you, and then drop his question. And you couldn’t find something to say either.

The air was warm and thick, and the sun was at the highest point in the sky, so getting inside the shop was a stark contrast: the AC mini split was blasting cold air against your face, and the greyish walls made the place look dark. And almost uninviting.

But Jungkook loved this place. He practically hopped to the register and spat out some weird name for a smoothie. He leaned against the counter, crossing one foot over and looked at you.

“Ready to try something new?” he asked with a toothy grin.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Okay. As long as you don’t order something super extravagant.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re boring as fuck,” he said, turning to the barista, who seemed half amused and half shocked that Jungkook could talk to you that way. “One Spring Break, please,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

“I’ll pay this time,” you said, pushing him off the counter while getting your card.

“Fine,” he huffed a laugh. “I’ll get it next time.”

The barista smiled at you and quietly got to work.

The smoothie Jungkook ordered for you tasted like mango, banana, yogurt and had chia seeds. It was sweet, creamy and balanced. While he ordered a chocolate and peanut butter smoothie, “for the gains,” he said quietly before sipping with an awed look in his eyes.

You chose to sit close to the window and far from the AC. You took another sip from your smoothie, letting the chill settle over your tongue without freezing the roof of your mouth.

Jungkook watched you for a moment. His big, dark eyes went over your face shyly before looking away.

“So,” he started, reclining back on his chair. “You and Kim Mingyu?” he raised his eyebrows.

Your tummy twisted for some reason. But you nodded. “Yeah,” you sighed.

Jungkook nodded slowly, like he was finally understanding something. Like he was putting up the pieces of a puzzle that you had not been privy to.

But you were too caught up with your own thoughts to ask, or to pay attention to what his expression meant. You rested your elbows on the table, pressing your cold hands on your face as though the shocking feeling on your skin could snap you out of it.

It didn’t work.

“But it’s not like that,” you said, looking at him through your fingers. “We’re not official. I mean, it’s casual.”

You didn’t mean to say those last words with so much disdain. But it was already too late.

Jungkook blinked twice, catching the venom in your words. “But you want more.” He said knowingly.

You choked back on your words, opened your mouth to say no.

You weren’t supposed to ask for more. You had agreed to this. No strings, no expectations.

But you couldn’t fool yourself any longer. You nodded quietly.

“And he… doesn’t want to?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“He hasn’t… told you anything?” you asked meekly, feeling like you were stepping over a line you weren’t supposed to cross.

Jungkook crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. “I mean, he only told me he was seeing someone,” he pointed out. “But that was before I knew it was you, of course.”

“Well, I don’t know if he wants more,” you declared, pain blooming in your chest. “One minute we’re good. And then the next it’s like I’m waiting for something I’m not supposed to ask for.”

He stared at you for one second. Then he grabbed his smoothie, stirring it with the straw as he gathered his words. “Maybe it’s not about you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You know,” he shrugged slightly. “Sometimes men don’t pull away because of you,” he said. “Sometimes men are too scared of finding something good.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that. But there was an understanding in his tone, a solidarity shown in his dark eyes that made you realize something. Your breath hitched.

“You know—,” you declared. Swallowing hard, you leaned over the table. “—about his ex?”

Jungkook nodded, biting his lower lip like he was trying to keep himself from talking. His eyes searched yours for a second, and you wondered what he might’ve seen in them because it made him resolute about telling you more.

“I saw his ex with someone else. At first I thought she might be someone else, that my eyes were deceiving me but,” he sighed heavily. “But then she saw me too, and hid away from me. That’s how I knew it was her. Called Mingyu and told him,” he rolled his eyes slowly, looking now at the ceiling. “They broke up that same night.”

Your heart stammered. Your throat felt too tight, and you quickly looked away.

“I care about him,” you said, your voice sounding brittle.

“And you don’t want casual,” he said. Putting two and two together again. “Just tell him. He might not be the most romantic guy but he’ll understand.”

You looked down, your smoothie had created a halo of water around it.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know,” Jungkook said. “Wanting more.”

You sighed, scratching the corner of your eye to pretend you weren’t wiping a tear. “I just don’t want to ruin everything.”

Jungkook pursed his lips tightly. He didn’t say what was obvious, and you silently thanked him for it. You just sat there, sharing the moment of silence as you commanded your heart to calm down. You took another sip from your smoothie, hoping the cold would wash out the tight feeling in your chest.

But yet again, it didn’t work.

“Even if it ruins everything, at least you got an answer,” he shrugged again, still crossing his arms, smoothie cup hanging loosely in his hand. “Right now, you don’t know because he probably thinks you’re good with you two being just friends, you know?”

You frowned. “Yeah,” you said. “You have a point.”

“Always do,” he grinned proudly.

Mingyu had to get the lights at the bar that night.

It was a Thursday night, and this was one of the busiest nights before the weekend. But despite the rush, Mingyu wasn’t tired. He had grown accustomed to being awake at night and working arduously. So this wasn’t something new.

What was new, however, was Mingyu’s distracted mind. He kept messing up orders. Repeating them. Forgetting them. Duplicating them. His head was somewhere else, undoubtedly.

He knew something was off, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“I’m just tired,” Mingyu told Wonwoo when he pointed it out. But it was a blatant lie.

And Wonwoo seemed to know.

The city moved slowly when Mingyu came out of the bar after closing. Wonwoo was waiting for him, leaning against his well-kept old car. Scrolling on his phone, Wonwoo raised his head at the sound of the metal door creaking and whirring as Mingyu shut it behind him.

Wonwoo said nothing, just opened the door and climbed inside the car. Mingyu followed, sighing as he sat on the passenger seat.

The ride was quiet. Too quiet, almost.

Wonwoo pushed his wire-frame glasses with one knuckle, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as he drove home. The ride there was typically three to four minutes long by car, but Mingyu could tell Wonwoo wanted to say something. He was driving slower.

But they arrived at the apartment complex eventually. Mingyu exited the car and, without saying anything, entered the building with Wonwoo following closely behind.

Inside the elevator, Mingyu could feel it again. Like his best friend was dying to say something, and Wonwoo tried to tell him things through furtive glances. The silent scrutiny followed all the way into their shared apartment.

Mingyu opened the fridge as soon as he went into the apartment. This was part of his routine: open the fridge and cook something quick before bed. Maybe cook something for Wonwoo as well.

But he wasn’t hungry. He closed the fridge and paced around the kitchen before finally deciding to plop down on the couch.

“What’s up with you, Mings?” Wonwoo asked. There was no heed in his tone, it sounded like Wonwoo was tired of Mingyu’s new display of anxiousness.

“Nothing,” Mingyu chanted back in the same nagging tone. He pulled his phone out from the pocket of his hoodie.

Wonwoo panned to the kitchen, placing his hands on his hips as he sighed. “You’re not cooking dinner?”

Mingyu glanced at him over his phone. “Do you want me to cook something?” he said, rising from the couch.

“I thought you would,” Wonwoo shrugged, quietly moving to sit at the stool on the aisle. “I didn’t have lunch earlier at the bar, so.”

“I can cook you up some ramen,” Mingyu said, sounding deflated.

“Ramen is okay,” Wonwoo replied, grabbing his phone too. The opening music of a video game filled the silence.

Mingyu pulled out a pan, two packs of ramen and got to work. But he could feel the scrutiny of Wonwoo’s gaze on the back of his head. It was almost like a shadow, pestering him.

“I swear I’m okay,” Mingyu mumbled through a sigh.

“I didn’t say anything,” Wonwoo replied with a small huff. There was a shy smile tugging at his lips.

Silence followed again. Wonwoo continued playing the video game on his phone.

Mingyu placed the ramen into the pot full of water and waited. Grabbing his phone, he checked his messages. There was nothing from you, and that was to be expected—it was three in the morning. And not that it would be weird to get a text message from you, since you’ve texted past that hour other times.

But the last text message from you read that you were going to bed. You wished him a good night and a great rest of his shift. And Mingyu had replied with what he thought was just as warm a message.

His fingers hovered on the keyboard. He chewed on his lower lip and started typing.

“Hi, baby

Just made it home”

A beat. He doubted himself, still chewing off the dried skin on his lower lip.

Then, he typed, “I miss you.”

But before hitting send, something grabbed his attention. The hissing sound of boiling water distracted him, he had forgotten to lower the heat.

He returned to his phone, deleting the words that never left the text box and set his phone away.

Wonwoo raised his eyes, looking at Mingyu over the frame of his glasses.

Mingyu just continued acting on autopilot, serving Wonwoo a bowl of ramen. And he was about to serve a bowl for himself, but then decided against it.

“You’re not hungry?” Wonwoo frowned, grabbing his pair of chopsticks.

Mingyu just shook his head no.

But he saw it in Wonwoo’s eyes—the expert scrutiny. And Mingyu was by far no stranger to this. He knew what Wonwoo would see. The withdrawn demeanor, the lack of hunger, the feigned tiredness.

The phone buzzed on the counter.

Wonwoo’s gaze followed Mingyu’s hand as he lifted his phone, getting a glance at the notification he had received. It was you. A text from you.

Mingyu didn’t open the text. Instead, he ground his teeth, lowering his phone back on the counter.

“You’re not going to get that?” Wonwoo asked, chopsticks in his hand, ramen untouched.

Wonwoo blinked twice, tilting his head to one side. Like a cat noticing something flashy.

Mingyu finally looked over. “You won’t understand,” he sighed.

Wonwoo set his chopsticks around his fingers, and dipped them into his bowl, grabbing a good handful of noodles. “Try me,” he said.

Mingyu breathed in. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he confessed, letting out his breath.

Wonwoo waited, still balancing his chopsticks to let the noodles cool.

“I like her,” Mingyu continued. “I like her a lot. I do. We talked and she told me something pretty serious and close to her. I thought about telling her that I wanted more, but—” he rubbed his hands against his face. “I don’t know if I can give her that.”

Wonwoo didn’t waste a second. “Then what are you doing?”

Mingyu winced, blinking dumbly.

Wonwoo continued, “You’re stringing the girl along. And giving her the illusion that this will eventually lead up to something is not softening the blow for her.”

Mingyu stiffened, watching Wonwoo as he just ate his noodles like he didn’t just drop a bomb on Mingyu.

Silence followed, the kind that was heavy with guilt.

Wonwoo rose from the stool, walking over to the fridge to get a soda. The hissing and clicking sound of the can opening made Mingyu snap from his trance.

“So what are you going to do?” Wonwoo asked, returning to his stool while sipping from the can.

The phone buzzed again, now causing Mingyu’s heart to cave in.

And in that moment, it was settled for him. Mingyu grabbed his phone, opening the chat he had with you.

“I’m gonna talk to her.”

“Want to take the car?” Wonwoo asked, looking slightly proud that Mingyu had chosen to do the right thing.

“Sure, thanks,” Mingyu replied. Grabbing the keys and texting you that he was on his way.

The TV screen flickered a faint blue glow on your face. You were choosing what to watch, but nothing succeeded in catching your attention. So you resorted to switching from preview to preview, getting the feeling that you had already seen everything on offer.

You couldn’t sleep. You were restless. But at the same time, you were tired from not being able to sleep.

Your foolproof method—which was falling asleep on the couch with something playing in the background, had failed miserably. All broken by one single thought: Mingyu.

Or maybe not just a thought, but a riptide of feelings. Multiple thoughts that went in various directions, and failing to land in conclusion.

Was he ghosting you again?

Was he having problems with his ex again?

Had he seen her? Talked to her? That would explain why his replies were slower now.

He texted, yes. But that was after hours of getting no reply, and when he did, he was incredibly affectionate. Then he would go radio silent again.

You lay on your couch in a fetal position, with your arms tucked against your chest, the remote in one hand. The room was quiet, except for the switching audio from flicking from movie to movie preview. The fan was off. The city was quiet and asleep outside.

Just the TV on loop. And your thoughts.

You hadn’t heard from him since earlier that morning. And technically, there was no reason for him to text you again, since your conversation had reached a full stop. There was no clear falling out, just… radio silence.

You hated how loud his silence could be. You hated how painful his absence was.

Your phone buzzed somewhere in the cushions of the couch. You didn’t move at first, you didn’t scramble to get it. You just slowly moved an arm, searching for it and finding it when it buzzed again.

“Hi, baby

Just made it home”

That read his text message. And you saw the three little dots appear below the two texts. He was typing again.

But then the three little dots disappeared, and they stayed gone.

You just stared at the screen, its brightness almost blinding you. You sat up so abruptly that it made your head spin.

Mingyu hadn’t texted for hours before that. You came to the realization that he might’ve been busy, and you almost felt guilty for wanting to reproach him for his lack of interactions during the day.

Gathering your thoughts, you typed slowly and almost hesitantly: “Hi! I’m glad you’re home”

Then, biting your bottom lip, you typed again. Your heartbeat stammered almost painfully when you added, “I missed you 🥺”

It took some minutes for him to appear online again. And then, without any warning, he said: “I’m coming over. Can we talk?”

Your chest tightened. Not in panic, but with the full certainty that he had missed you just as badly as you did. You smiled at your screen, feeling elated that you were going to see him again.

It would normally take him up to twenty minutes to reach your place. But you’d soon realize that he was getting there by car, since he arrived faster than usual.

As soon as the buzzer sounded, you rose from the couch and ran with shaky legs to get it. You saw through the intercom his frame. He was crestfallen, so it was difficult to discern his face.

But you gave him access, pushing the button with one trembling finger. Then you waited. It would take him two minutes to reach your floor, so you breathed in deeply and composed yourself.

Then, he knocked on your door quietly, almost as if he already knew that you would be waiting by the door. So you opened it, heart fluttering wildly as you saw his face.

You smiled sweetly at him, love and adoration blooming inside you as you almost cooed, “Hi, Gyu.”

Mingyu stopped, almost as if he were about to say something, but was taken aback by the affection coating your words. He released a breath, his shoulders slumping as he replied, “Hi, there baby,” he said, his tone just as warm as ever.

You didn’t think twice, you threw your arms around him, giggling in joy as he wrapped you in a tight hug, pushing you and him inside your apartment. You heard the door slamming shut, and you realized that he might’ve kicked the door.

Mingyu moved his arms, cupping your face fully so he could plant a long kiss on your lips. “Hi, I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“No, don’t worry,” you mumbled, reciprocating the paused kisses he gave you. “I was having trouble falling asleep.”

Mingyu paused, leaning his head to make eye contact with you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone low and gentle. But you couldn’t let the slight fear in his eyes go unnoticed.

So you reassured him. “Yes, I’m okay,” you smiled at him, grabbing a hand from your face to press your lips against his palm.

“Sure?” he whispered, gulping hard when you started kissing his hand.

“I probably just had a lot of caffeine,” you replied, feeling satisfied with yourself to sound convincing enough.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to ghost all day—”

“No—it’s fine,” you cut him off, cupping his cheek to call his gaze to yours. “We don’t have to talk all the time. I know you were busy, I understand.”

Mingyu closed his mouth and exhaled through his nose as he leaned in and rested his forehead on yours. “You give me too much merit,” he muttered. “You gotta be stricter with me.”

You closed your eyes, moving your hand to his nape and kissing his lips tenderly. “Maybe you’re just lucky that I like you,” you whispered sultrily.

“Yeah?” he hummed, and you could picture his grin through your mind’s eye. “You like me?”

“As if that weren’t obvious, you dummy,” you giggled, your heart skipping over how delighted and honeyed you sounded.

He let out a small sigh before joining his lips with yours, kissing you slowly, but oh so tenderly. His hands slipped from your face to the back of your head, holding you firmly as if you were to pull away from him. “I missed you,” he let go of those words with so much emotion that you felt them in your heart.

But you realized that the slight twinge of sadness wasn’t directed towards you. It was almost as though he was fundamentally reproaching himself for his silence and absence.

“I’m here,” you whispered, feeling equally emotional. It was so overwhelming to listen to him say those words that your heart almost jumped out of your chest, robbing you of your voice.

Mingyu kissed you again—harder this time. As though he wanted to compensate for all the hours he went silent, as though he wanted you to forgive him for something he wasn’t capable of avoiding.

But there was more—something about the hunger in which his kiss was trapping you. alarm bells rung inside your head, trying to reach your heart. But you ignored them, tackling them down as you pushed Mingyu with your hands firmly planted in his chest.

You pushed him until the back of his knees brushed against the couch. The TV screen remained static, illuminating the entire apartment with a soft blue glow. It was playing something that you were too entranced to even pay attention to. The sound had faded into the background of your mind, and none of it mattered.

With trembling fingers, you skirted up his chest, finding the zipper of his hoodie. You dragged it down, sending a furtive glance up to his eyes. Mingyu was biting his bottom lip, taking quick breaths as he looked at your face.

You slipped your hands beneath the shoulders of his hoodie, feeling his skin as you slid it down his arms and dropped it to the floor. You continued to undress him, feeling his eyes on you as you marvelled over how beautiful his body was. You took off his black sleeveless t-shirt with his help, and then moved your fingers to undo his belt.

You sunk your thumbs between his skin and the elastic band of his boxers, pushing them down and letting them drop to the floor. Mingyu stepped out of his clothes, now fully naked in front of you.

Neither of you commented that your body was still dressed from head to toe. You were very aware of how much powerful it made you feel. He let you undress him completely, he did not object. He always let you have control.

You placed your hands on his shoulders for support, standing on your tiptoes to reach his lips with your own. Mingyu kissed you slowly, trapping your lips with his and moaning when you reciprocated his kiss.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer to his body, making you feel his skin and his welcoming warmth. You hummed into his mouth, your hands travelling on his body, circling down his back, and exploring his glorious nakedness.

Your hand trailed down his lower tummy, feeling his muscles shift and tense when your fingertips grazed against the soft pubic hair. You ran one finger further down, feeling the soft skin of his thick and hard shaft, the tiny veins trailing up to the tip of his cock.

Mingyu sucked in a breath, wincing as you continued playing with his cock, enjoying the way it slowly grew harder, and harder.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, pumping it slowly as you felt Mingyu stirring, like he was trying to push his cock in your fist but stopping himself before doing so.

You bit back a smile just as he used his index finger to lift your chin, commanding your eyes to him. “Stop playing,” he whispered, his dark eyes coasting over the features of your face.

You arched a brow. “You told me to be stricter,” you remarked.

Mingyu smiled, rolling his eyes playfully. “I did. But you’re not being strict, you’re just toying with me.”

You lowered yourself, his hand dropping from your chin halfway as you sat on the couch. And without teasing, or more playful touches, you wrapped your mouth around his cockhead, licking the precum leaking from his slit.

You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked his pinkish brown head, and then carried onto licking his length, all the way to the base of his cock.

You dared to make eye contact then, only to find out that his gaze was trained on your face, his mouth hanging open, his eyes filled with lust. Your heart gave a leap inside your chest, but you continued licking him from his base up a few times until you wrapped your mouth around his cockhead again.

He grabbed your hair with one hand, carefully twisting it with his fist as you started gliding your mouth on his cock. It was difficult at first, and you found out that you were so out of practice when you dared to take him deeper.

“Careful,” he mumbled softly when he heard you gag. But then he sighed, blinking slowly as your mouth continued sucking him, trying to swallow him whole. “Fuck, baby. Slow down.” He pleaded.

But you didn’t comply, not at first.

You tried to take a few inches more, the tip of his cock hitting the roof of your mouth felt painful the first time you attempted this. But you eased into it, his hand that wasn’t on your hair came to cup your cheek, and you dared to look into his eyes again.

It was so hot. His dark eyes were lost in you, filled with lust and not blinking away. You let out a hum around him, and he immediately responded with a raw moan, making his throat bob.

Drool started to gather in the corners of your mouth, trickling down slowly but you didn’t care enough to wipe it off. You tried to take more of him, stroking with your hand what you couldn’t take in your mouth.

You pulled off his cock, leaving only the tip so you could tease it with your tongue, swirling it around. Mingyu flinched this time, hissing loudly through gritted teeth. “Baby, if you keep doing that I’ll come in your mouth.”

You ignored him, humming again in delight as he grew more and more tense, his hand tightening around your hair, but he didn’t pull. You wanted him to, but you didn’t stop to tell him.

You picked up the pace, taking him almost completely. Your jaw felt tight with pain, and you knew it would hurt in the morning. But you didn’t care. Mingyu was closer, panting, almost whining with every breath he let out.

“Baby.” He warned.

You pulled your mouth off his cock, leaving him a mess. Mingyu protested with a groan, but you just smiled at him, rising from the couch to reach his lips.

“You’re a tease,” he drawled with a raspy tone. But he kissed you anyway, pressing his lips against yours tenderly.

“Sit on the couch,” you told him, pushing his shoulders lightly.

But he complied either way, sitting down and watching you remove your shorts and panties unceremoniously, stepping out of them as you moved to straddle his lap. His hands latched on to your hips almost immediately, sliding up your back to hike your tank top up.

His eyes followed every curve of your body, his mouth parted as he stripped you off your last piece of clothing.

You mimicked him, putting one finger under his chin to command his puppy eyes to yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed dreamily.

His hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing you gently before one hand sneaked between your legs, cupping your bare pussy.

You gasped softly, grabbing his shoulder for support.

“So wet,” he whispered with a smirk. “Enjoy sucking me off?”

You slapped his hand away, but a playful smile crept onto your face. “Of course I do, Gyu,” you replied, rolling your eyes. You sat on him, grabbing his cock to align it with your pussy. “I might let you cum in my mouth next time.”

“Fuck,” he gritted, his hands finding your thighs again.

“Would you like that?” you mumbled, blinking at him sultrily.

“Yes,” he nodded repeatedly, glancing between your face and where your body was about to join with his.

You placed his cock between your middle and ring finger, sliding the swollen cockhead between your lips. You let out a lewd whine when you rubbed the bulbous head against your folds.

Then, you pushed him inside, just a couple of inches. You instantly felt it—the slight bite. Your eyes watered, but you pushed another inch inside, moaning this time.

“Baby,” he breathed. You lifted your gaze to his. “You okay? Am I hurting you?”

“I like it,” you gasped. “It feels so good.”

Mingyu laughed, the sound making your heart flutter. “Oh, yeah?” he breathed. His gaze lingered on your face, watching you as you struggled to take his cock.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I like that you’re cock is so big it hurts,” you drawled sultrily. And to really make your point, you sat down fully on his cock.

Your mouth dropped open, your vision blurry as you blinked some tears away. Mingyu clenched your thighs, digging his fingers into your skin.

“Fuck—baby,” he whined, dropping his head back.

You started riding him slowly at first, getting used to the stretch of his cock. You eased into it, using his shoulders for support.

Mingyu guided your hips, watching your body bounce on him. He swallowed hard, blinking slowly as he tried to resist the urge to take control.

You smiled at him. “Do you like that, Gyu?”

He gave you a lazy nod. “You feel so good, baby,” he replied. “You have no idea.”

You replied with a short giggle, leaning over to kiss his lips swiftly. “You feel good too,” you whispered, your breathing shallow as you started riding him faster.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You gave him full nods. “You feel so good it’s addictive,” you replied sweetly. “I want you so much—want your cock everyday.”

Mingyu’s gaze snapped to yours. Something about your words seemed to resonate with something he was thinking.

But you didn’t have time to pause, or to really wonder about that look he gave you. You were riding him faster, harder. Using the headrest of the couch for support.

“Ngh, fuck—” he gritted, clutching your hips harder. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He panted. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Baby—”

He slammed your hips down on him, his strength overpowering yours. You couldn’t move; you were tightly pressed down on him. He let out a long and raspy moan, his cock twitching inside you as he came.

The grip on your hips loosened before it became painful. Mingyu was panting, slowly opening his eyes to look at you.

You stayed like this for a moment, just enjoying each other’s warmth. You enjoyed having him inside your body so much that you forgot about your own pleasure.

A smile stretched on his lips. A hand came to cup the back of your head, pulling you into a slow, wet kiss. “You are the one who’s addictive,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered wildly. But before he could give you the chance to reply, he flipped positions, pressing your back on the couch. Now he was on his knees, his hips slotted between your thighs, and inside you still.

Mingyu used one hand to motion your legs around him. You complied, forgetting about having control altogether. You wrapped your legs around him at the same time he pressed his hips against yours, thrusting his cock deeper inside you.

His eyes roved all over the features of your face. As though he were trying to memorize every single detail—the way you blinked, the way you parted your lips… the way you looked at him.

A question appeared in his eyes, but you just smiled at him.

“What?” he whispered. He was pushing his hips against yours, trying to tease you with a slow pace.

You tried to shake your head, biting your lip. But you just couldn’t hold it any longer, “I just really like you, Kim Mingyu,” you confessed. And even though you had said those words before, the way you said them this time meant something different. They meant more.

Mingyu blinked, his breath hitching slightly, but you noticed it. You noticed that he wasn’t expecting you to put so much emotion over such simple words.

But he bowed his head, meeting your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. “I like you more,” he replied.

You giggled, slapping his shoulder playfully. “Mingyu.” You said.

He replied with a giggle of his own. “What? I mean it,” he whispered, giving you another kiss.

You kissed him back, sinking your fingers into his long, beautiful hair. He moaned into your mouth as he felt your nails grazing his scalp.

His arm hooked under your thigh, unlocking your ankles when he drove your leg to your chest. You moaned loudly and so lewdly. Now his thrusts felt impossibly deeper, his cock reached places you didn’t know you could feel so much.

“God, Mingyu!” you cried out, gasping as his thrusts became faster.

But there was something you couldn’t get out of your mind. This didn’t feel like fucking. Mingyu was looking at you the same way he did the last time he took you—he looked at you like he loved you.

“Mingyu,” you gasped, your hands circling his back, sinking your nails into his back.

It felt so good. To have him inside you—raw, deep and yours. You looked into his eyes, noticing the strain, the pleasure, and something more. You couldn’t look away. You were completely wrapped.

“Baby,” he replied, letting you mark him with scratches. His mouth dropped open, gasping as you sank your nails deeper.

“I’m close,” you blurted.

“I’ll cum with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

You breathed in deeply, remembering how good it felt last time. Mingyu noticed, smiling as he followed your slow breaths, pushing his cock deeper inside you. Sweet pleasure bloomed inside you, making you let out a moan.

“Cum with me,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. I know you can do it.”

His hand moved to the back of your knee, spreading your thighs wider for him. He went in deeper, his thick cock massaging walls deliciously, hitting a sweet spot inside you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, moving a hand to grip his shoulder, heedlessly sinking your nails on his skin.

“That’s it,” he said with a rawness in his voice. “Cum with me, baby.”

“Mingyu!” you cried, your jaw going slack as a wave of pleasure took over your entire body. You orgasmed so hard that your vision went blurry, your mind blank as you moaned, panted and cried out his name.

Mingyu pushed his forehead against yours, coming with you, with sharp breaths that you felt brushing against your lips.

And then, he was kissing your mouth, his thrusts sloppy as he came to a full stop, pressing his hips firmly against yours.

He gently released your thigh, but didn’t stop kissing you. His hand came to cup your chin, his fingers gingerly trailing along your jawline. His kisses turned from passionate to languid, smiling when you hummed, trying to break free to catch your breath.

“You’re okay, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly.

You nodded lazily, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You?”

Mingyu smiled. “I’m okay,” he replied, backing away slightly just so your gaze could connect with his.

Then, you felt it.

You loved him.

“Did I hurt you too badly?” he asked, his eyes starting to study you.

You shook your head. “Nothing too bad. For now,” you admitted with a shaky laugh.

Mingyu sat back on his knees, flashing you a worried look.

“I’ll be fine, Gyu,” you told him. “I just need to sleep.”

He nodded to the bed. “Let’s tuck you in,” he prompted, getting ready to rise from the bed.

You groaned when he pulled out of you, the change so noticeable your body winced. “Wait,” you said, and he stilled. “Let me catch my breath first.”

Mingyu paused when you extended your arms to him, smiling when you made grabby hands at him. “Really?” he smiled, squeezing behind you and putting your body on top of his.

Mingyu breathed out when you relaxed on top of him, his arms wrapping around you to bring you his warmth. “Were you sleeping on the couch?” he asked, noticing the blanket thrown to one side of the couch.

“Trying to,” you replied, blinking slowly at him.

He turned to look at you. “Are you dozing off?” you nodded. “Baby, we gotta clean up before—”

“Sshhh,” you brought a finger to his lips, making him laugh.

He clicked his tongue, but didn’t protest anymore. A hand started stroking your hair, his fingers sinking and tangling in the strands of your hair.

“Mingyu,” you breathed after a moment of silence.

“Yes?” he replied quietly.

You drew in a breath through your nose. “How are you?” you asked with a tiny tone.

“I’m good, baby,” he replied, and you could feel that he was looking at your face. And his tone told you he was intrigued when he asked, “Why?”

“You disappeared on me again,” you said simply.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he said, sighing deeply. “And I’m sorry about that.”

He grabbed your hand, the one that was parked on his chest and pressed kisses on the pads of your fingers.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled.

You would’ve said more—ask him what troubled him so much that he had to go radio silent. But you were half-asleep already.

“Baby,” he whispered, nudging you softly.

“Yeah?”

“Can we sleep on the bed?” Mingyu whispered, laughing lightly at the awkward position your bodies were folded into on the couch.

“Of course,” you whispered back, matching his smile.

Without skipping a beat, he rose from the couch, clumsily bending down to hook his arms beneath you. You let out a small gasp as he lifted you like it was nothing.

You didn’t protest. You were growing used to it.

He carried you to the bed and tucked you in. And like muscle memory, you curled toward his body the second he slipped in beside you. Mingyu smiled, his big arms wrapping you safely around your body as you placed your head on his chest.

The last thing you felt was his deep sigh—followed by a soft kiss that he pressed to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes. And then, it was morning again.

You blinked slowly, stirring beneath the covers. Something felt wrong before you could even register why.

You reached out across the bed. It was empty.

The warmth was already faded from his side. The room was quiet too, awfully quiet. And the light filtered through the curtains. You sat up, blinking away the weight of sleep, heart thumping loudly as you tried to listen.

There was nothing. It was empty. You were alone.

Your heart didn’t race. It just sank. There must be something wrong, there must be an explanation.

You reached for your phone on your nightstand, checking the screen. Nothing.

The hollow, heart-wrenching ache you had been trying to push down for the past few days returned. It came rushing back stronger than ever. It was saying, I told you so.

Jeon Wonwoo raised his head when he heard the lock of the door click.

Mingyu pushed the door open, quietly stepping inside the apartment and closing the door behind him. Then he leaned against it, sighing deeply in what Wonwoo could only recognize as regret.

“How did it go?” Wonwoo asked, his tone as condescending as ever. “You guys talked for hours.”

When Mingyu didn’t return home, it was evident that he hadn’t gone to your place to talk things over with you.

Mingyu let out a dry laugh. “Funny.” He muttered.

Wonwoo was sitting on the couch, watching his best friend and roommate drag his feet and plop on the couch next to him with a big sigh. There was a sombre look on Mingyu’s face, his lips were chapped, his eyes were baggy and sported dark circles underneath.

“What happened?” Wonwoo asked, not hiding the shock in his tone. “You look like you went to war.”

“I couldn’t do it,” he mumbled, chewing off the dry skin on his lips. “As soon as I saw her, I knew I couldn’t do it.”

Wonwoo remained silent, but he couldn’t help but assess the situation. There Mingyu was, struggling to talk to a girl he was infatuated with. He cared about her. Wonwoo remembered the first weeks Mingyu started seeing you. How Mingyu couldn’t stop talking about you with anyone who listened.

Now it was almost as though he was ashamed to talk about you—and Wonwoo suspected why.

“You should’ve seen her,” Mingyu muttered, his eyes lost somewhere in the distance. “It was like she was seeing her favorite person in the entire world and—” Mingyu sighed, closing his eyes, losing that mental image of you. “I couldn’t do it. I choked up.”

“So sleeping with her was a better idea?” Wonwoo asked flatly.

Mingyu winced, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. “Fuck off,” he spat.

Wonwoo made a downturned smile. “Why? I’m being serious,” he said plainly, adding a small shrug. “You couldn’t let her off easy, so you decided to wrap her up more instead?”

Mingyu bounced his knee frantically. He didn’t dare to look at Wonwoo, and the feeling rising inside him was too familiar. It reminded him of the time he broke up with Gigi. That same sick kind of pain. The shame.

“You’re bleeding.” Wonwoo pointed out, nodding to Mingyu’s split lip.

Mingyu touched his mouth. Blood. Then he nodded dismissively, sighing as he leaned back on the couch.

He stared at the ceiling as he remembered that look in your eyes when you opened the door for him. The way you looked at him when he was inside your body—like it wasn’t just sex what you were having with him. It was something more. You trusted him.

Mingyu didn’t want to admit it, but it was clear as day now.

“You’re going to break that girl’s heart.”

Wonwoo rose from the couch, letting the disappointment in his words hang in the air. It was the first time that Mingyu did something that gained the genuine disapproval of Wonwoo. And it was almost like a knife to Mingyu’s chest.

Because Wonwoo was right.

Mingyu closed his eyes, swallowing hard to try and hold his tears back.

Then, with shaking fingers and a heart already fraying, he reached for his phone. He opened your chat and typed:

“Can we talk tonight?”

The basketball court was empty.

The pavement was wet, collecting in puddles that reflected the streetlights above.

You stared at the screen of your phone. In the chat you shared with Mingyu, you saw the location that he pinpointed for you. And that he wanted to meet after sunset.

You hugged yourself tightly, not because of the cold breeze, but because you thought you would collapse if you didn’t. Those words, can we talk? were never good. You knew this.

You were deeply acquainted with this type of fear. And you thought—you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t feel it again.

The air smelled of wet asphalt. You breathed in deeply, trying to fill your head with other things. You tried to push away the anxiety that was slowly consuming you.

Mingyu approached the bleachers with a sombre look. Crestfallen, hands in his pockets. He removed the cap of his hoodie once he stepped onto the basketball court.

His eyes found you almost immediately. And then you saw him, his shoulders lowered. As though he was relieved to see you.

Mingyu stopped just a few feet away from where you sat.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said quietly.

You parted your mouth, raising your head to look at him. You understood that this wasn’t the type of conversation you thought you were going to have with him. Your heart sank. “Of course.”

The silence that followed was tight. It wasn’t awkward, and it didn’t feel like either you or him were looking for words to say. But rather, you were looking for the courage to say them.

Mingyu finally decided to sit down beside you, leaving just enough space between your thigh and his.

“You left this morning,” you started without looking at him.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sorry.”

Then, another moment of silence. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know if it was appropriate to tell him the exhaustion you felt from these last couple of days of nothing but mixed signals on his end.

“I didn’t know where else to do this,” he admitted after a pause. His tone conveyed that there was more that he wasn’t telling you. He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling softly. “I just… I just didn’t want to say this somewhere that felt like it could follow you home.”

Your chest caved in, making you tighten your arms around yourself. “Say what?” you asked, even though you already knew where this conversation was going.

Mingyu looked at you, his eyes searching your face. That was when you saw the brittle look in his eyes.

And for a second, you thought that he might take it back. Whatever he was thinking of saying. But then he swallowed hard, as though mustering strength.

“I care about you,” he stated with a strangled tone. “So much more than I planned to.”

You stared at him, confused.

He lowered his gaze, looking remorseful as he said, “But I can’t do this anymore.”

The air in your lungs left you, and you swore you felt something inside you break beyond repair.

“What does that mean?” you asked quietly.

Mingyu looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly when he heard your voice. His eyes searched yours. “I thought I could handle it,” he said. “Us. This. Everything.”

You almost felt like you were speaking to another Mingyu. You almost felt like the person you were with last night was a different man. And you wanted him back.

“So what changed?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Mingyu said quickly, pausing to outline your features one more time. “Nothing has changed.”

You waited, staring at him as though he would take his words back. You felt like there was more. Something he was holding back.

“I still feel the same,” he added, his tone soft, but there was hurt in his words. “I still care, I still—” he cut himself off with a sharp gasp, looking away from your eyes briefly. “I still think about you. All the time.”

“Then why are you leaving?” you asked, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Before you could try and soften them. But realization was seeping in, and started to get ready for the inevitable heartbreak.

Mingyu yanked his gaze from your eyes, sending it skyward. As though he would find the answers there. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled: “Because I’m not ready. I haven’t fully healed from last time.” He muttered as though not wanting to say those words. He met your gaze again. “And you deserve someone who’s all in. You deserve someone who doesn’t pull away at the first sign of commitment.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat. “You don’t think I know what that feels like?”

Mingyu choked on his words, then he looked at you—really looked. And you knew he would find the vulnerable girl you had been trying so hard to hide.

“This isn’t about you not being enough,” he said gently. “This is about me not being whole.”

You huffed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I never asked you to be whole. I just wanted you to stay.”

He winced, and his gaze dropped. “And I thought I could.”

The pain in your heart blinded you. It made you irrational. So you weren’t thinking straight as you blurted, “Is this because of her?” you whispered shakily.

Mingyu parted his mouth, a light frown showing on his face. “No—” he blinked in confusion. “This has nothing to do with her—”

“I know she tried to reach you the other night, at my apartment,” you said uncontrollably.

He motioned towards you, as though trying to eliminate the space between you, but suddenly stopped himself. He went rigid, as though commanding himself to stand his ground. “This has nothing to do with her,” he repeated. “She was out of my life since before you and I crossed paths, I swear.”

You watched him for a moment. Then you understood that Mingyu didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted more. You knew it.

“I thought I was ready for this. For us.”

You shook your head once. Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

“I didn’t want to end it like this,” he whispered. “But dragging it out would’ve been worse.”

You raised your gaze at him, jaw set. “Then just say it, Mingyu,” you said. “Don’t protect me.”

He parted his mouth. Then closed it. But you knew that his decision was made.

“I’m ending this,” he whispered.

Mingyu paused, and you understood that he was waiting for you to say something. Maybe he wanted you to plead, to negotiate.

You just stared past him, tightening your arms around your body, bracing for the cold. “I think you should go, Mingyu,” you mumbled quietly, but there was a slight bitterness in your tone.

Mingyu froze beside you. And when you thought that he would say something more, he didn’t. He nodded once, like he already knew there was nothing else to say.

He got up and started walking. You looked away, deciding that you wouldn’t watch him walk away from you. You turned your head to your side, staring down at the puddles of water across the basketball court.

Part of you wanted to stop him, to beg him to stay, to tell him that you could wait for him. There was so much more that you didn’t tell him—that you were in love with him, that you were willing to take whatever part of him he was capable of giving you.

But none of it mattered. He was already walking away. The sound of his footsteps was all you could hear, then nothing.

You didn’t see him standing a few meters away. You didn’t see when he turned around, one last glance over his shoulder.

Mingyu saw you from afar, sitting in the same spot. You were still hugging yourself tightly.

Then his heart broke.

You started sobbing, hiding your face on your knees. His first impulse—what his heart wanted—was to run back and hold you. But he was doing what was right, for you, for him. Even though it felt wrong.

Mingyu balled his hands into fists, turning around once more as he walked away, for good this time.

☆ author's note: hellooooooo

this author's note is to thank you again for your amazing support!! thank you for reading, thank you for your feedback, for sharing and for being here with me in my little writing corner! hehe

i've been thinking a lot about fanfic, about writing and about what it all means. you know? people say that fanfic is for free but it's not. it's not free for most writers. it takes us time, dedication, effort, etcetera. so i for one truly appreciate it whenever i receive feedback on your part.

i guess i'm saying all of this to say, thank you. thank you at the ones who send feedback in whatever form. whether it is an anonymous ask, a reblog with comments, or by dropping a comment down below. hell, even by liking this post you're letting me know that you're here. you have my gratitude! 🩵

so.... 👉🏻👈🏻 yell at me in the comments for this chapter? idk kjfghd next part is going to get interesting

toodles

☆ STAY TUNED FOR PART V! ☆ | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | SUPPORT ME ♡

#DIABOLICAL #writer nim im sending you the bill for my therapist #😭😭😭😭😭😭

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