ikeuwoniee

[ikeuwoniee]

– cut scene, cut the chase | psh.

PAIRING. idol!sunghoon x staff, fem!reader SUMMARY. you work behind-the-scenes for one of the biggest kpop companies in the industry, belift, and you have a secret: you run one anonymous X account to vent every frustration and grudge about the company's visual ice prince, park sunghoon. he finds this account and instead of reporting you... he starts flirting? CONTENTS. enemies to lovers (e2l), SUNGHOON IS DANGEROUSLY FLIRTY. slowburn, praise kink, hair pulling, dom!sunghoon, dirty talk, light marking, reader is teased into begging, mentions of big dick sunghoon hehe, oral (f receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (pls dont; reader is on the pill, BUT STILL). a bit of angst if you squint, there's a bit of power imbalance, semi-public sex. body worship. she fell first, he fell harder. MDNI. WORD COUNT. 10.9k (i genuinely thought it was 20k) AUTHOR'S NOTE. hi, i’m back! and with lots of fic ideas i hope you enjoyyyy. hnggg. i really have no other stuff to say. HAHAHA. hope you like it <3<3

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST, YOU CAN SEND ME A MESSAGE.

It starts, as most mistakes do, with a tweet.

You're more of a background poster than anything. An anonymous handle with a blurry profile pic which you've taken while you were out in the Han river, barely 300 followers, and two things everyone can piece together if they pay attention:

One, you work at BELIFT.

Two, you work closely with ENHYPEN.

Too close, maybe. Close enough that you retweet clips of Jungwon being the cutest cat-like leader you've ever met. Close enough that you've ranted about Heeseung's additional ad-libs and last minute line changes, praised Ni-ki's professionalism at 3 AM, and the most damning of them all, tweeted far too often about how Park Sunghoon is the human embodiment of a soft-launch breakup.

Your followers think you're just funny. That you're just playing a bit. That maybe you're a delusional fan with a production job fantasy.

There had been a lot of replies to your tweets every now and then, asking if you really work in BELIFT and for ENHYPEN, or if Heeseung really does have a girlfriend. Some have the audacity to even question whether you really work in BELIFT or you're just another person acting like you do in order to have X engagement.

You even remember the time you've landed into one of Sunghoon's protection teams, saying that you were setting him up, and you laughed to yourself while you're checking the outfits lined up for Sunghoon in the music shows.

Like every anonymous poster, you don't reply. You never do. But still, the page grows.

ENGENEs aren't sure what to make of you. Your tweets toe the line between sarcastic slander and genuine devotion. It's not exactly hate, it's more like aggravated admiration. Like the kind of loathing that only forms when someone sees too much of a person. Sees past the polish, past the performance.

Especially when it comes to Park Sunghoon.

The ice prince of BELIFT, the company's visual jewel – oh, and your most consistent headache.

You don't actually hate him, but you sure as hell tweet like you do.

You were just off the set when your next mistake happens.

A Manila folder is tucked under your arm, barely holding on with pitch revisions and last-minute cue cards, some of which crumpled from being tossed back and forth between departments. A black mask hides half of your face, and your bucket hat hides the rest.

Safe to say, you look like a ghost in the mirrored lobby glass.

It's 2:07 AM, and you're on your third iced americano of the day and second mental breakdown of the week, and it's Monday.

The music video shoot ran longer than expected, again.

Jungwon's scenes needed reshoots. Heeseung's hair was frayed and pink at the roots even if he had his roots retouched eighteen hours ago. The harness used in Sunoo's wire-flying scene was too tacky.

And Sunghoon?

Well, Sunghoon, of course, had notes.

"It feels stiff, the camera blocking doesn't match the beat. I look bored, too."

You were bored, you think. And he looks not even short of perfect – albeit bored, perfect, still. But no one ever tells him that.

Because Park Sunghoon, for all his breathtaking angles and God-tier lighting, is never, ever satisfied. And worse, he somehow knows exactly when to glance at your direction when you're rolling your eyes behind the monitor.

It's always the same. You glare, he smirks, you look away.

Later, you tweet. And tweet.

[nuguhasdoubts] park sunghoon blinked at the script today like it owed him money. he's so unserious for someone that pretty.

10 likes. One reply. You scroll.

[nuguhasdoubts] heeseung gives you a small nod and you feel seen. sunghoon stares into your soul and suddenly you're 12 and being picked last in PE again.

35 likes. Four replies. One quote tweet: "this is the most specific kind of hate ever," it read, and you snort.

[nuguhasdoubts] 2:15 AM no way he asked for natural lighting only during a night shoot. the director blinked five times. i blinked six. [nuguhasdoubts] 2:16 AM i hate that they still found a way... [nuguhasdoubts] 2:21 AM "can we do that again?" no, park sunghoon, we cannot. i've been standing for ten hours my spine ha sfolded like origami. [nuguhasdoubts] 2:24 AM he said thanks to everyone. do i forgive him? [nuguhasdoubts] 2:31 AM he walked past me and smelled like money and that another 13. and he is a tamburins endorser. still, i almost forgave him. almost.

You slam the X app shut at exactly 2:35 AM, just when you finish scrolling through your timeline and finish the read. Your phone's screen gives in to black, and for a moment, the smallest, briefest moment, it feels like silence.

But then your phone buzzes again.

And again, and again.

A cascade of notifications light up the cracked top corner, your battery bleeding at 8%, like it's crumbling under the weight of your life. You paid no mind, it could be one of those For You notifications built in to X's system depending on your tweets and interactions.

So, you stuff your phone deep into your jacket pocket and don't look back.

The night smells like asphalt and boiled coffee. The streets are empty now, save for a few flickering lampposts and a stray cat peering out from behind a row of parked scooters. You walk with your hand-me-down PRADA bag from your manager slung over one shoulder and the Manila folder hugged to your chest like it's an extra organ you're afraid to leave behind.

You've just wrapped a eighteen-hour shoot.

Eighteen hours of whispers through earpieces, running cables, resetting blocking, coordinating the makeup crew when Jay's contour got smudged, as well as rushing down to the pantry to get Jake his iced americano because his sugar was crashing.

Eighteen hours of explaining that no, natural lighting at night doesn't work that way, Park Sunghoon.

You almost laughed when he asked it. But he'd been so serious, too serious, and so of course, they made it work anyway.

You don't even remember when the grudge started.

Maybe it wasn't even a grudge. Maybe it was just a slow, quiet erosion of patience. One missed cue at a time. One more perfect shot that had to be redone because Sunghoon found the camera blocking off from the center just a tad. One more request that, had it come from anyone else, would've been given not much attention, but from him? It became gospel.

The elevator is quiet when you step in, except for the gentle ping of each floor and your own reflection staring back from mirrored walls. You look exhausted, hair damp from humidity, lanyard still looped around your neck – a stark contrast from the tall, sleek, glass gleaming in the dark of a building that looks like it should be filmed, not lived in.

It's part of the HYBE executive housing arrangement, a perk they throw in for long-term staff or those tied to core artist departments like production, creative, and management.

You'd wanted to cry the day you moved in. Not because you were happy, but because you really weren't.

The 27th floor smells like jasmine from a diffuser that someone in HR probably chose to help boost employee morale. You unlock your door with a fingerprint and step into a condo that's too clean, too white, too empty.

The living room is minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows and an unobstructed view of the Seoul skyline. All cold lights and late-night neon blinking somewhere in the distance. There's a record player you bought on impulse last year. It sits untouched on the console. You never really had time to use it.

You drop your bag onto the couch. It's beige. You should feel proud. This is what people your age fight for. A stable job. A sleek place in the city. A title under one of the most powerful entertainment companies in the world.

But most nights, you stand here and feel like you've wandered into someone else's life.

You studied music and dance because you were in love with movement. You loved the language it conveys, the hush before a curtain rises. You loved creating. Not cueing. Not directing for one hair strand to be curled on Jake's forehead to recreate Zayn Malik's hairstyle. Not adjusting the lighting angles so it could highlight Jay's jawline. Not keeping a lot of vitamin products just in case Sunoo forgets his.

You became a production assistant because it was your foot in the door – but now the door feels like a wall.

And somehow, in the middle of all that, he exists.

Sunghoon.

The boy with swan limbs and dagger eyes. The boy who lives your dreams without knowing he's holding them.

Sometimes, you bother to hate him. Not really, though. But there are times that it's enough to make it through another twenty-hour shoot where he asks in the middle of one scene to have his Tiktok redone because it doesn't feel like it's the one.

Everyone bend over backwards, because he smiled at the end of it.

You hate that he's the personification of everything you've ever wanted, just born with it in his palm. You hate that he's also charming and polite. And once in a while, he bothers to say thank you, and when he does, it sounds so sincere.

So, you conclude that you hate that you can't actually hate him.

You roll over and finally plug in your dying phone. You have new notifications from X. You exhale through your nose, jaw tense.

Tomorrow, you'll deal with it.

But tonight, you lie in an apartment for your loneliness, thinking about the boy who doesn't know he lives in your head rent-free, and the dream that somehow slipped from your gasp and landed in his.

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand like a trapped insect.

You ignore it.

You drag yourself out of bed. Shower. Coffee. Outfit. You pull your production lanyard over your head and loop it twice so it doesn't swing. Your tiredness presses into your muscles like wet sand, but you move through it. You always do.

You don't look at your phone.

Not when you button your black trousers. Not when you tie your hair back. Not when you slip your HYBE identification card into your back pocket, not when you slide your keys and hand cream into your bag like it's any other day.

You go down to the lobby and sit awkwardly on the sofa near the vending machine as employees pile up in the lobby with their own things to look after.

There were a lot of discussions and complaints. You hear someone saying that there'll be a remix for SEVENTEEN's title track from a Western label. Another employee is too busy contacting production for Hobi's scheduled Tiktoks with other idols of HYBE.

The shuttle pulls up just in time for call just before you could know about every idol group's business.

By the time you reach the elevators of BELIFT, your phone buzzes again. Fifth time this morning.

You've ignored every single notification since the moment you stepped into the lobby. You had to. If you let even a single one in, you might've screamed. Out loud. In front of security.

You're already late, not scandalously late, but late enough to get the side-eye from the senior stylist who believes the world runs five minutes earlier than your clock does.

The lift opens. You barrel into it.

Third floor, fitting.

Dress rehearsals, new concept. New accessories. Another hell.

You mutter apologies as you push through the crowd of stylists and interns hauling rolling racks. Your arms ache from last night. You barely slept.

You turn the corner toward Studio B, prepping the lines in your head for the morning checklist, when someone stops you.

"Hey," says Jiyeon, one of the production coordinators, "Sunghoon has asked for you."

You blink. Once, twice. "What?"

"Sunghoon said he wants you to check something about his outfit. Costume issue or something. He's in the dressing room."

Your stomach dips.

"Why didn't he tell stylists directly?"

Jiyeon shrugs, "He said, and I quote, 'Can you get the girl with the blank face and the shiny clipboard? She'll know what I mean.'"

Your face twists, "Did he actually say I'm blank-faced?"

"Verbatim."

You blink, "And you still came to get me?"

"He also said please."

"Okay?"

"It's the first time he's done that," Jiyeon reasoned.

"Right."

You adjust your headset, sigh, and head toward the solo dressing room.

When you push open the door, he's already there, sitting on the edge of the couch in sweatpants and the teaser outfit. One arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other, fiddling with a button.

You stare at him from the doorframe like he's sprouted a second head.

He blinks up at you. Tilts his head, and then had the audacity to smile.

Park Sunghoon does not smile at you. Not unless he wants something. Not unless he's being paid. Not unless he's being insufferable.

"There she is," he says, stretching slightly, arm flexing against the couch as he drops the half-undone button, "Miss Blank Face with the clipboard. I was starting to worry you hate me that much not to go."

You blink, "You called me for a costume issue."

"Did I?"

You glared, "I have three stylists on stand-by. If this is about layering or fabric, I suggest–"

"Nah," he interrupts, rising to his feet in one fluid, confident motion, "This is more of a you thing."

The hell does that mean?

Your eyes flick over his outfit. Teaser fit: A white shirt, goggles hanging on his neck, beige cargo pants that are unbuttoned, his face lacking the needed peach makeup you specifically requested the makeup department. Still, it's nothing that needs your attention.

Still, you walk over, pulling the clipboard from your side and adjusting your headset.

"Okay, walk me through what's wrong."

He hums and walks toward you, slowly.

You notice now that his hair's still slightly damp, curled at the ends like he's fresh out of the wash and has rushed to set. But Sunghoon never rushes. He meant for the undone, wet look. He still looks fucking hot.

You hate him.

His cologne is faint but there, something woodsy and clean, and with a citrus edge that makes your already-dulled nerves ring with alertness.

Sunghoon stops in front of you. Too close.

He bends slightly at the waist, dramatic, exaggerated, inspecting.

"What's wrong," he echoes, as if thinking over your words, "Well, I've been thinking."

"That's never good."

He grins, "Funny. So, I've been thinking. Maybe I've been unfair to you."

You blink for the nth time today, "Huh?"

"You do a lot around here. You coordinate, direct, remind everyone when Ni-ki is wearing pink when he doesn't like pink. You work hard." He pauses, tilts his head, eyes dancing, "Even with a blank face."

You resist the urge to launch your clipboard at him.

He continues, utterly unbothered, "I think I misjudged you. Or maybe, we start off the wrong foot.. or, well, maybe I'm just starting to see you in a new light."

You squint, "Is this a bit?"

"Depends. You into roleplay?"

You stare.

He smiles wider.

The smirk now spreads over his face like butter on warm toast – easy, practiced, dangerously self-aware. As if he knows exactly what he's doing.

You've seen Sunghoon flirt before. He does it when the cameras are off. He knows how to bat his lashes just enough for things to go his way, how to draw people in like gravity with the perfect mix of boredom and beauty.

Usually, you've seen him give it to anyone else he deems worthy enough to give him what he wants. But this? This is directed at you.

Which is impossible. You're just a production assistant.

You narrow your eyes, "Do you need something, Sunghoon?"

He taps his lip, "Just wondering why someone might say I smelled like money and Le Labo and... what was it? Oh," he leans in, "Regret."

You freeze. But your face doesn't move. You've trained for this. You've worked backstage during entire album rollouts with less than four hours of sleep. You've sat through re-edits of comeback trailers frame by frame. You do not crack under pressure.

You kept your expression neutral.

"Sounds like a weird comment."

"Exactly," he says breezily, circling you like a shark, hands crossed while toying with his lips, "There was this thread. So dramatic. Really makes me wonder what I did to deserve that kind of hate. Or maybe..." He glances back at you, "Admiration. Hard to tell, isn't it?"

Your pulse thuds in your ears, "Must be some fan account."

"Oh, definitely a fan." He stops. Smirks.

You grit your teeth.

He knows.

But he won't say it out loud. Not yet. Not while he can watch you squirm.

You tuck your clipboard back under your arm and square your shoulders, "If you're done wasting my time, I have three racks to coordinate and a backup battery dying in the hallway."

He leans closer again, just a breath from your ear, "You know," he mutters, voice all sugar and daggers, "I never minded the hate. It's the interest that's flattering."

You step back, "Get dressed."

"I am dressed."

You point at the goggles hanging on his neck, "Fully. And you have makeup in ten."

He grins, but he lets you go, for now.

You don't rush as you leave, you don't want to give him the satisfaction. But the second you close the door, your back hits the hallway wall and your fingers tremble.

The convenience store near HYBE is quiet at night, save for the humming of refrigerators and the distant buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. The world outside still feels far too loud, too fast – but here, it feels suspended. Dim. Air-conditioned.

You sit at one of the corner tables, hunched over your bibimyeon like it holds the answers to your crisis. Your microwaved sotteok lies abandoned in its bowl, skewers askew like bones after a fight. You haven't touched it.

You're still scrolling.

Your thumb keeps twitching over the heart button, just to see what tweet comes next. It's like watching your own downfall unfold one quote tweet at a time. Funny, devastating, strangely intimate. People keep dissecting the phrasing, the tone, the way your thread reads less like a joke and more like a diary entry.

You're a meme now.

You take a long sip of your watered down iced latte.

The convenience store is nearly empty. Just a tired cashier scrolling on his own phone behind the counter, and a guy in a hoodie a few aisles down browsing the ramyeon shelf. You don't pay attention. You can't. Not when your screen lights up again.

[shnprod]: do you think she's like actually into him? [prodheegy]: is this user setting sh up again? lol [sunoology]: so is this a real life au? [jakewonbitz]: she's acting like she's really a hybe employee lmao

You want to crawl out of your skin.

You bury your face in your hands and groan quietly, elbows braced on the table. You consider deleting the account. Hell, maybe you should delete your entire identity.

You don't even notice the hoodie guy approaching until you hear the clink of a canned drink being set beside your food.

"That bad, huh?"

You nearly drop your phone.

Your head jerks up. A guy in a black cap, mask, and a loose hoodie sits across from you like it's the most casual thing in the world. His eyes are familiar, moles too familiar, but they're crinkled in amusement. Mischievous.

"You always look this haunted after scrolling your timeline?” he asks, stirring the cooked buldak in the cup.

You blink, "Do I know you?"

He tilts his head, mask hiding his mouth, but you see the smile in his eyes.

"No," he says, "but I feel like I know you."

Your stomach drops.

You snap your laptop shut – no, not your laptop, your phone – your phone, you idiot – and immediately swipe out the X app. Too late. He's already seen the screen. Maybe even the notifications section you're scrolling through.

You scramble, wiping your hands on your pants like that'll fix the sweat suddenly slick on your palms.

He gestures lazily toward your tray, "Mind if I join? Looks like your sotteok's crying for company."

You scowl, "There are seven empty tables."

"I like this one," he says, and finally pulls his mask down just enough to sip his canned coffee.

Park Sunghoon.

Of course.

You inhale sharply, "What are you doing here?"

"Late last minute run for Outside. I'm also craving tteok and buldak," he sips again, "you?"

You look at him flatly, "Avoiding a mental breakdown."

He hums, "Same."

You narrow your eyes.

He props his chin on his palm and lets his gaze settle on you like he's waiting. For what, you didn't know. But it unnerves you.

"Rough day at work?" He asks.

"Could say the same about yours."

"Oh? Did I cause you a problem?" He grins.

You curse under your breath, but you school your expression anyway, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," he says, biting back a smile, "but if you did happen to be the anonymous X user who's been tweeting about my glow and expensive cologne, I'd say your taste is... complicated."

You nearly choke on your own breath.

"I didn't say glow," you hiss, "I said smelled like money and Another 13, which is –"

"An oddly specific compliment, don't you think?" He cuts in, eyes sparkling.

You gape at him.

"You're delusional."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, "Sure, but if you were her – and I'm not saying that you are – you're kind of funny. Intense. Unhinged, if you will."

"Thanks?"

"I like it," he says, easily.

You want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

But you wipe your mouth with a napkin, inhale slowly, and grab your phone like it might shield you from the embarrassment.

"You're not funny," you say, standing up.

He stands, too, "You're blushing."

"I'm going to kill you."

"And tweet about it later?" He adds, raising a brow.

You march toward the exit. But still, behind you, you hear the soft tap of his sneakers as he calls out, low, sweet, and dangerously smug: "Don't forget to add the part where I said please."

You shove the door open.

"Park Sunghoon, you're up,"

The sound engineer barely glances your way as he gestures toward the mic stand. You stand to the side with a clipboard in hand, the checkboxes already half-filled for Jungwon and Heeseung. You're just assisting, nothing more. Yet, you've told yourself that three times now.

But then he strides in, all calm confidence and sweat-slicked neck, and your grip on the clipboard tightens.

"Hey," he grins.

"Hey," you replied, stiff.

You pretend to scan the equipment checklist, heart already quickening. His mic pack is in place, corn snaking down under the hem of his shirt. Too much movement and it'll slip. And of course, just as the engineer starts toggling the frequency, the mic shorts.

"Hold still."

"I'm always still," Sunghoon murmurs.

You crouch slightly, trying to get a grip on the cord slotted against the curve of his back, just beneath the tucked hem of his shirt. The mic pack is wedged awkwardly under his belt, and to fix it, you'll have to – you sigh, instead.

You reach around, fingers grazing his waistband.

Sunghoon tenses under your touch.

"You nervous?" He asks, voice a low murmur in the mic, only audible to you.

"Shut up,"

"Your hands are shaking," He remarks.

"I said shut up."

"So you do like touching me."

You jab the mic pack into his lower back, hard.

He flinches slightly, but you know there is a grin plastered on his face.

"You're cute when you're mean."

You move to step back, but suddenly, his hand gently, lightly, brushes your wrist. The touch is barely there, but it startles you all the same.

Your eyes snap to his. He's watching you. And he's looking at you. You pull your hand back like you've been burned, "There," you say stiffly, "fixed."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Because I think I need a little more adjusting." His voice dips, suggestive.

And you nearly drop the clipboard.

The engineer calls out from behind the glass: "Perfect, signal's steady now."

You take a full step back. Sunghoon lets you go this time.

As he takes position for his mic test, you catch your reflection in the mirror beside the recording booth. Your cheeks are flushed. His are not.

But he turns, meets your eyes once more, and then.. he winks.

You almost broke the glass.

It's been two weeks since the convenience store incident.

So, it means, it's been two weeks since Sunghoon took an interest in making your life a living hell. By being mean to you? No. Worse. By flirting with you on each set and only you could hear it.

It's two weeks of faking indifference as he winked at you during rehearsals, smirked when he passed you during call time, and offered annoyingly specific compliments like: "New hand cream?" or "Didn't peg you for a lemon girl."

Two weeks of dodging any mention of that thread on your timeline.

You thought maybe – just maybe – the storm was passing. That the account would die down again. That people would forget. You'd even muted your own username, turned off DM requests. Held off from posting anything remotely unhinged, despite the itch in your fingers every time Sunghoon so much as breathed in your direction.

You thought it was over.

Until now.

Busying yourself with a sweet, rare pocket of silence as you stood outside the styling lounge while fanning yourself with the lighting cue sheets, you pull out your phone.

And there it is. A notification.

A quote tweet from an account you don't recognise.

But first, the tweet that started it.

[yuniecore]: @.nuguhasdoubts if ure really from belift, what do u think is sunghoon's type? end all the gf stans rn

Well, you shouldn't entertain that.

But your finger hovers. There's already traction on it – likes, bookmarks, a couple dozen QRTs. And then, you stumbled upon a quote tweet from a zero-follower account with the handle "icedamericano07", a white dog icon, and no header.

[icedamericano07]: bite. brains. knows how to handle wires. doesn't take my shit. @.nughuhasdoubts, what do you think?

You freeze.

No. No way.

You read it again.

The phrasing. The cadence. The cockiness.

Knows how to handle wires? Your fucking clipboard almost slips out of your hands.

You open the profile: no name, no description, no tweets other than this one. But you know, you know, you know it's him.

[nuguhasdoubts] on Direct Message: you're actually sick in the head. [icedamericano07] on Direct Message: sick? no. curious? absolutely. you didn't answer the question. am i wrong? do you know how to handle wires? 😏

You stare at the screen like it just slapped you.

[nuguhasdoubts] on Direct Message: this is workplace harassment. i could report you. [icedamericano07] on Direct Message: and say what? that i guessed your burner account from how you described my cologne too accurately? please. you're one exhale away from writing a sonnet about my jawline.

You slam your phone face-down on the nearest surface and inhale so deeply you almost see stars. But... you can't help but admit that there's a strange thrill. Like the person you've been screaming about in anonymity knows and instead of retreating, he's daring you to keep going.

[icedamericano07] on Direct Message: just admit it. you like me. [nuguhasdoubts] on Direct Message: i tolerate your existence. barely. keep dreaming.

A pause. And then,

[icedamericano07] on Direct Message: then let me give you better material to tweet about.

Your mouth goes dry.

You slide your phone back into your back pocket like it's cursed. Then storm into the studio like your shoes are on fire. But as you pass by the mirrors lining the wall, you catch your reflection: flushed, breathless, and worse, smiling.

It happens after a brutal Friday run-through.

You're coming down from twelve straight hours of lighting cues, sound checks, and last-minute styling disasters for ENHYPEN's Walk the Line tour. The studio's thinned out. Most of the staff are gone, only a few stragglers left packing up cables and costume pieces.

You've unhooked your headset, pulled your hair down, and wiped your face with the only half-clean tissue in your bag. You're exhausted. You've barely eaten. You ache everywhere – especially your back and the sharp crook of your shoulder where the production clipboard had dug into you all day.

You slump onto the edge of the stage, legs dangling, sipping from a lukewarm water bottle. That's when he finds you.

"Thought I'd find you here," Sunghoon says, voice low and lazy as he crouches beside the platform edge.

You don't even look at him, "Congratulations."

"What's my prize?" He murmurs, inching closer until his knee brushes your thigh.

You scoff, "A slap, probably."

His laugh is warm. Daring. Annoyingly smooth.

"I'll take my chances."

You finally glance at him.

He's still in his post-rehearsal sweatpants and hoodie, hair damp from the shower, exposed skin glistening just a bit from the leftover heat of the day. He looks like he should be in a magazine ad for bad decisions and good lighting.

You shift your leg, and he doesn't.

He raises an eyebrow, "You always look this uptight?"

You bristle, "Excuse me?"

"Your shoulders," he says, reaching over and ghosting his fingers just over your back. You flinch.

"You're wound up like a tripwire."

"I've been on my feet for twelve hours."

"You're always like this," he hums.

"Maybe because someone's always provoking me."

He grins, "You're tense."

"No shit."

"Let me help."

Your head snaps toward him. He doesn't flinch, doesn't smile. His gaze is steady. Confident. Dangerous.

"Let me loosen you up," he says, low.

Your heart slams against your ribs, "You're out of your mind."

"Am I?" he murmurs, leaning in.

His palm presses to your back, hot and wide and deliberate. Not high enough to be inappropriate. Not low enough to be excusable. Just maddeningly right.

"This is a game to you."

Another shrug, "Isn't it fun?"

You blink, and yet, your breath catches. You should leave, you should get up, push him away, throw your empty water bottle at his head.

His hand slips slightly lower, "You have a choice," he says, "Say no, and I'll leave. Beg just right, and I'll help you."

Your pride should take the way out, but your body.. your body aches. You've been holding tension for weeks. In your muscles, in your bones, in every sarcastic tweet and every hissed comeback and every moment he's stood too close just to make you feel it.

You don't say anything.

And maybe that's enough.

Because Sunghoon exhales, moves behind you, and with maddening slowness, slides his hands over your shoulders. He massages, presses, kneads. Firm, skilled like he's done this before, like he's good at this.

He leans in, "Relax," he murmurs, hot breath against your neck.

"Don't get used to this," you snap.

"I wouldn't dare."

You felt his fingers work down your spine.

And that's how it happens. One moment you're letting Park Sunghoon rub the knots out of your spine in the dim stage after-hours. And now, he guides you slowly onto your back against the stage floor, cushioned by the jacket he shrugs off for you. The silence is tense, electrified, only broken by your breathing and the faint creak of the floor beneath you.

When he kneels between your legs, you suck in a breath.

He looks up, "Still with me?"

You nod.

"Words."

"Yes,"

"Good."

He peels your trousers down slowly. Painfully slowly.

Not rushing, not fumbling – like he knows what he's doing and he knows you'll let him. Like he's done this in his head a dozen times already.

You shudder when the fabric hits your ankles, your back pressed against the cool steel railing at the side of the stage, spotlights dimmed, the rest of the venue swallowed by shadow. You're hidden here, but it makes it worse. Every sound, every breath, every filthy noise is amplified in the quiet.

It's 11:47 PM, and you're letting Park Sunghoon, the man who's made your job ten times harder, the man who's cocky and smug and always, always gets under your skin, kneel for you.

You hear the soft shuffle of his hoody as he makes himself comfortable. Your underwear is still on, it's the last thing protecting your sanity. But he drags his knuckles over your thighs so softly, it makes you ache. He hooks a finger in the waistband and pauses.

"Still good?"

"...Yes," you whisper, "I'm fine."

You're really not.

You're dizzy. You're humiliated by how much you want this. How your body is trembling with anticipation even when your brain is screaming: don't you dare make this mean something.

This is Sunghoon. And this is better than admitting what's been rotting in your chest.

Because if he touches you like this, it's fine, right? It's fine because he doesn't mean it. Because he's just playing a game. Because it's him, the man you can't stand.

So, it can't hurt you.

He kisses the inside of your ankle. Featherlight. Then a little higher, again, and again. His lips trail up your leg like he's marking a path. He alternates, your left thigh, then the right – until his mouth presses to the crease where your thigh meets your hip.

You jolt.

And all the while, you keep your eyes fixed straight ahead. Because you can't look down. You don't want to see the way he watches you. You don't want to see if there's pity, or curiosity, or anything that might crack you open.

It's easier in the dark.

It's easier when you don't see him.

Because he's everything you're not. An iced, golden boy. Loved. Gorgeous, gifted, perfect. He has what you lost: center stage, applause, the confidence of someone allowed to dream.

You hate him.

You hate that you don't, really.

And your panties are soaked. He sees it. You know he sees it because he lets out a low, almost reverent sound, like he's praying under his breath as his thumb drags over the damp fabric.

"This wet for me?" He asks, genuinely curious, like he's still not convinced it's real.

Oh, you badly wanted to scream.

Then, tongue flat, he licks you over your panties. A bold, slow stripe. And had the courage to hum.

"Cute," he says, and your breath catches, "you taste desperate."

You slap a hand over your mouth. He smirks. You feel the smugness even without looking down. And then, he peels the fabric to the side. A beat of silence.

You can hear the way you're wet, the quiet obscene sound of his breath brushing your soaked folds. He exhales like it's smoke: slow and deliberate.

His thumb spreads you open.

Then, his mouth is on you.

His tongue flattens against your clit in one slow drag, then circles it with calculated precision. Fast once, then slow, then again, like he's testing what makes you twitch. Your grip on the railing tightens, and you accidentally let out a soft moan.

Hand sliding behind your thighs, anchoring you in place as he eats like he's trying to memorise how to unravel you. And god, he's good. Too fucking good.

He alternates between flicks and sucks, rolling his tongue, then locking his lips around your clit to suck gently, then harder. It's like he's experimenting, showing off.

Your hips buck, and he groans into you – on purpose – sending vibrations through your core. It's disgusting how fast your body responds.

"You like that? he asks, voice hoarse between licks, "Didn't think someone with such a smart mouth could be this quiet."

You almost choke on air.

Then his hand comes up, just one, sliding down the front of your thigh, fingertips dragging over your skin like he owns it. He presses two fingers into you slowly. Testing, stretching. Just enough to curl inside you as his tongue keeps working.

Your knees buckle, "Sunghoon–"

He freezes.

Then he drags his mouth up and looks at you, eyes dark, "Say it again."

You shake your head, humiliated, and in return, he presses his fingers deeper, making you gasp, "Sunghoon!"

His lips are back on you in a heartbeat. And then you're unraveling, thighs clenching around his head, mouth falling open in a silent cry as your orgasm crashes into you. The tension shatters. You come with a full-body tremble, your hips jerking helplessly into his mouth as he keeps licking, greedy and relentless, like he doesn't want to stop.

And, really, he doesn't.

He licks you through it and after it. Slow, gentle strokes to your oversensitive clit that makes your thighs twitch and your fingers claw at the railing for mercy.

Finally, he pulls back.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips are glistening, his cheeks are flushed.

You're panting, drunk, dazed, wrecked.

And he has the audacity to smirk.

"Thanks for the prize," he says, cockily and devastatingly handsomely.

You stare at him, wide-eyed.

He shrugs like it's no big deal, "You looked like you needed a release."

You don't speak, you can't.

Sunghoon stands, wipes the corners of his mouth again like he just finished eating lunch, and steps away. Hands in his hoodie, whistling. And then: "See you tomorrow," he says, already walking off.

And you're left there, shaking, heart in your throat, wondering what the hell just happened; and why your body still aches like he barely scratched the surface.

It's been three days.

Three whole days since Park Sunghoon dropped to his knees in the shadow of a stage that had once only echoed with your voice calling lighting cues and ruined you.

Three days since he looked up at you through his lashes with that insufferable glint in his eye, tongue dragging over your soaked underwear like you were dessert after a sold-out show. Three days since he made you come with nothing but his mouth and his smug persistence.

Three days.

And now?

Now he's normal.

No, worse than normal – he's professional.

He walks through the halls of the tour venue like he owns them, and he kind of does. The Walk the Line tour is halfway through its Asian leg, and Sunghoon is still very much the ice prince on stage. The sweet-faced visual in every behind-the-scenes clip, the golden boy who laughs in rehearsals and delivers lines with lethal charm on live broadcast.

He nods at staff like you don't exist. Like he didn't taste you and leave you shaking. Like you weren't a real thing. Just another part of his routine.

"Morning," he says when he passes you in the hallway on the second floor.

No wink. No smirk. Not even a pause.

Your breath stutters, "Hey,"

But he's already gone. No backwards glance. No tension in his shoulders. Just air between you. A silence so loud it swallows the past whole.

You even try to rationalise it.

It was just one night. Not even a whole night. It was fifteen minutes, to be exact. That's how fast he has made you come in his mouth.

He's an idol. You're a staff. You have a clipboard and a headset and no business letting anyone, least of all him, crawl between your legs when your ID is still swinging around your neck.

You try to tell yourself it didn't matter. That it was a tension release, a temporary unraveling, a misstep that the both of you would walk away from untouched.

But you are touched.

Everywhere.

Your body still aches with phantom heat. Your lips still press together when you pass the dressing room where it happened. Your stomach still twists when you catch his scent on the stairs – that stupid expensive fragrance that always clings to the collars of his hoodies.

And worse? He knows.

Because sometimes, he spares his time to look at you. Just for a second. A flicker of a glance. Like a hook, just enough to tug at the thread holding you together.

In rehearsals, when he's practicing formations. You're crouched in the tech booth, reviewing cue sheets, and then his gaze skims right over his monitor and lands on you. You freeze, he doesn't even blink.

When you hand off a chain correction for the stylists during makeup, he takes it, touches your fingers too long, and thanks you like he always does, sweetly, almost innocently.

But it's a game. And you're losing.

He doesn't even flirt anymore, not like before.

No sly whispers about your lips, no jokes about how cute you look when your clipboard shakes. He doesn't bait you during mic checks or complain about his in-ears just so you'll come closer.

He asks other people now. Always polite. Always charming.

Two months later, you're seated in the staff corner during the pre-recording run of Walk the Line in Jakarta. Coffee half-finished. Cue sheets wrinkled. A setlist spread across your lap like armor.

The world around you blurs, stylists touching up roots, dancers rushing in and out, interns double-checking security barricades.

Then, he slides into the seat across from you.

No warning.

"Hey," he says, casual, "You've been quiet."

Your breath catches. You don't meet his eyes. You fiddle with the edge of your script. "Not sulking, are you?" he adds, voice low enough for only you to hear.

You inhale sharply, you refuse to bite. But your knuckles tighten over your pen.

"I've been working."

"Didn't know work required you to ignore me."

"That implies I acknowledged you to begin with."

He lets out a soft, faux-offended gasp, "Ouch."

When he stands, crumpling his coffee cup in one hand, he adds over his shoulder: "You taste better when you're annoyed."

Your jaw goes slack, and you even barely process his retreating figure.

What does he even want at this point?

That question bugs you each day, that's why when you spot him alone on the balcony behind the rehearsal room, leaning against the railing with his hoodie up, phone in one hand, you took your chances.

You were going to ask: What was that night? Why are you still playing?

But then, he looks up and smirks. Like he knew you were coming, like you're already predictable.

"Need something?" he asks, cocking a brow up as calm as can be.

You flinch and walk away.

And that night, that night you try to draft a tweet. Something vague, sharp, cathartic. Something like your old self before all this mess. But everything comes out wrong.

Too raw, too revealing. Too much like someone who cared.

You delete it all. You stare at your screen until it fades to black.

It's pathetic, the way you look for him.

You should be reviewing lighting logs or updating the asset board for the upcoming comeback for DESIRE:UNLEASH. You should be sleeping, crying, screaming into your pillow. Anything but this.

But here you are, behind the rehearsal studio, under the sliver of moonlight that pools on the balcony concrete like spilled milk. Looking for a boy who only ever leaves you aching.

And there he is.

Like the last time, he's leaning back against the railing, hoodie on, phone in hand. Like he isn't the reason your world's been spinning sideways for weeks.

He doesn't even look surprised when he hears your steps. Of course, he knew you'd come.

You hate that he's beautiful even like this. You hate that you still want him anyway.

"Of course, you're out here."

He looks up, just his eyes, no real shift in his posture. And then – God, that smile. That goddamn smile.

"Could say the same about you."

You walk over slowly, carefully, as if daring yourself to get close might make the moment more bearable.

Well, it doesn't.

He tucks his phone away, gives you a once-over, casual and amused, "You gonna scold me? You look like you're about to yell."

Really, damn you, Park Sunghoon.

"I might," you declare, teeth clenched.

He laughs, "Should I be scared?"

You pause in front of him, cross your arms, and for a second – you don't say anything. You just look at him.

At the boy who ate you out like a secret. At the man who walked away like it never happened. At the person who sees all of you, but keeps his eyes closed.

You inhale sharply, "What do you want, Sunghoon?"

"Right now?" he drawls, pretending to think, "Maybe a drink, a nap? A massage would be great –"

"I'm serious, Sunghoon."

"So am I," he says, breezily.

"I don't get you," you begin, and your voice is steady, for now, "You flirt, you vanish, you tease, and then –"

Your breath hitches.

"Then you touch me like I'm more than that, and pretend that it didn't happen."

He doesn't say anything.

You glance sideways, searching for his face under the low hood, but he doesn’t look back. Just presses his lips together like he’s stifling a laugh.

You feel your chest tighten. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” he says, softly. “Just familiar.”

Your heart stutters.

“I want to hate you,” you confess. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, before you can dress them up in sarcasm or hide them behind a bitter joke, “I want to hate you so bad. Because you ruin everything. You ruin me.”

His brows knit, finally, but he still doesn’t interrupt.

“I hate the way you look at me like you already know what I’m thinking. I hate that I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore. I hate that you're everywhere – the damn rehearsal room, the elevator, the breakroom, the f –”

You stop.

“But mostly,” your voice lowers, cracks, “I hate that you touched me like you meant it. And then walked away like you didn’t.”

You both stand there for a long, loaded second. The wind lifts your hair. Somewhere inside, a faint bassline from another studio vibrates through the floor.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whisper. “I didn’t ask for you.”

Sunghoon turns to you, finally, slow and unreadable. He takes you in: eyes drifting from the trembling fists at your sides to the way your jaw clenches like you’re holding yourself together with glue and prayer.

And then he smirks.

“That’s not what your tweets said.”

Your chest caves.

“Fuck you,” you breathe, and it hurts. God, it hurts, how fast the ache rushes in.

“You’re really going to turn this into a joke now?” you ask, barely holding the cracks together. “You think quoting my tweets makes you clever? You think it makes this easier?”

“I think you’re the one who made it complicated,” he says.

Your eyes sting.

“And you’re the one who kept playing the game.”

Sunghoon shrugs, “You were playing too.”

“I stopped!” you yell, too loud, too suddenly. You catch yourself, voice dropping again. “I stopped when I realized none of it meant anything to you.”

He looks away.

“You want to know the worst part?” you ask, shaking now, your fists clenched so tightly your nails dig into your palms.

He doesn’t answer.

So you keep going. Because now, you can’t stop.

“I can’t even trust myself anymore. I walk into a room and you’re there and suddenly I’m stupid again. I let you do that to me and I didn’t even ask why – because I thought maybe, just maybe, it meant something. Maybe I wasn’t imagining it. Maybe you looked at me and actually saw me.”

Silence. Long. Agonizing.

Finally, he says, softly, flatly, with nothing behind it:

“I don’t do real.”

You flinch like he slapped you. And for the first time in weeks, you have nothing left to say.

No jokes. No comebacks. Just the steady collapse of something inside you, like the floor gave out.

You nod.

“Right,” you whisper, “Of course you don’t.”

He looks at you like he wants to say more. His throat works around the words. But whatever they are, he swallows them.

So, you nod again. And walk away.

And this time, he lets you. And that’s the worst part.

Because you wanted him to follow.

The days blur after that.

You don't cry. Not like you thought you would. Not in the way you expected: no gasping sobs into your pillow, no dramatic tears behind the studio monitors. No, instead, it settles in quieter. Colder. Like frost.

You keep your head down. Do your job. Show up early, leave late. Laugh when you need to. Answer questions. Avoid him.

Always, always avoid him.

You stop using the staff pantry, too many memories. Too many shared glances across the coffee machine. You choose the service elevator now. Keep a spare headset in your pocket in case someone says his name in the group channel.

Even when he's nearby, you pretend he isn’t.

And to your own disbelief, he does the same. At least, on the surface.

You catch him once – just once – watching you across the stage while Jungwon rehearses his solo. He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t look away either. It unsettles you.

The teasing is gone. The grins. The little traps. Nothing. Just a vacuum where he used to exist. You try to tell yourself this is better. You try.

But it’s 1:13 a.m. now.

And your apartment feels too quiet.

You’ve had your phone on Do Not Disturb for three hours. You haven’t checked the nuguhasdoubts account. You’ve ignored three separate texts from your production groupchat, one passive-aggressive reminder from the schedule board, and two attempts from Sunoo to FaceTime you “just because.”

There was so much more than he let on, you think. That’s the way Sunoo has always been, always ahead of everyone in ways that you couldn’t understand how he does it. Maybe, he’s empathetic – or, maybe, he’s just too nosy. But you think he’s empathetic, it’s Sunoo.

You’re curled on the couch in sweats, face bare, hair tied up, a bowl of congealed kimchi stew on your coffee table.

You try watching something: a rerun, a music show, a mukbang, but everything reminds you of him. Of them. Of the life you orbit but can never truly belong in.

Your apartment, a perk of working under HYBE, is too pristine for how worn you feel. White walls, modern fixtures, perfect view of the Han River; and none of it feels like yours. You’re just a tenant here. A ghost with a staff badge and too many secrets.

Your hand twitches toward your phone. Then away. Then toward it again.

You turn it over.

One new text.

[unknown number] 1:15 AM. i'm outside. just five minutes. if you hate me after this, i'll leave for good.

Your pulse slams through your chest.

You sit up. Walk to the door.

Your knees feel wrong. Like someone’s replaced your bones with glass.

You press the button for the camera feed. The screen flickers.

And there he is.

Sunghoon. Standing under your building’s awning. Hoodie pulled up, rain soaking the hem. His sneakers are wet. His shoulders are hunched like he's bracing for impact.

Your fingers hover over the buzzer. For a second, you tell yourself: don’t do it. He doesn’t deserve this. Then your heart says: but I still want to hear what he’ll say.

And you buzz him in.

The intercom clicks off. Your hand falls to your side. Your chest feels like it might cave in.

You leave the door open for him.

Just a crack.

The door swings open with a soft creak, rain still whispering against the windows behind you. He steps inside like he’s trespassing. Like this space might reject him.

His hoodie is soaked through, dripping water onto the hardwood. His shoes are ruined. But it’s not the mess that unsettles you — it’s the look in his eyes. He’s not smug. Not cocky. Not teasing. He looks like he’s searching for something, and terrified he won’t find it here.

You don’t say anything at first. Just toss a towel to him. Not kindly.

“Dry off before you ruin the floor.”

He catches the towel one-handed. Rubs the back of his neck, slowly, like he's trying to buy time.

You cross your arms, back rigid, “Why are you here, Sunghoon?”

“I…” His voice is cracked from the cold, “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your jaw tightens, “That’s not an answer.”

He drops the towel onto your kitchen chair. Looks at you. Really looks at you.

“I didn’t think you’d open the door.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

You fold your arms tighter, “You’re not here to make peace, are you? You’re not the type.”

“No,” he says quietly. “I’m here because I haven’t been able to sleep. Or eat. Or exist right since you walked away.”

You kept quiet.

“I can’t think straight, I can’t even rehearse properly, my mind keeps looping back to the balcony, and the look on your face like I’d just torn you open and smiled about it.”

“You did,” you whisper, voice small, sharp, “You looked me in the eye and said you don’t do real. Like I hadn’t already given you everything real about me.”

“I know,” he chokes, “And I wanted to say I didn’t mean it. But I knew I’d sound like a liar.”

“Then why come now?” you demand, shaking, “After all this? After weeks of avoiding me? After you made me feel insane for wanting you?”

Silence. Just the sound of rain ticking against your glass balcony door.

Then, with a breath:

“Because I realized I’m not scared of you breaking me,” he says, “I’m scared that you already did.. and I let you go anyway.”

Your mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

“I thought keeping it casual would protect us. That I could make you laugh, keep you distant, pretend I didn’t care,” he continues, voice rising now, “But then you stopped talking to me. You stopped smiling. You looked through me like I was no one. And I swear to god, it felt like dying.”

You take a step back, “Why now, Sunghoon? Why only when I walked away did you start realizing any of this?”

He shakes his head, “Because I was a coward.”

You flinch.

“You were brave enough to ask what this was. I just kept pretending it was easier to laugh than to admit I gave a fuck.”

Your hands are trembling, “So, now what? You show up drenched and desperate and say you care? And I’m supposed to forget how you left me behind?”

“No,” he says, “You’re supposed to tell me to leave.”

You blink.

“But you haven’t.”

His voice drops. “Which means… maybe there’s still something left.”

You hate him for being right.

He steps forward. Rain still clings to his lashes. His voice turns raw, stripped of every mask he’s worn until now.

“I don’t want anyone else reading your tweets,” he whispers. “I don’t want anyone else getting to look at you the way I have. I don’t want anyone else making you laugh the way I should’ve.”

Tears sting your eyes. You hate that, too.

He exhales, voice low, vulnerable, trembling at the edge of everything he’s ever avoided saying.

“The show’s over, Y/N. And I still want you all the same.”

A beat.

Your throat tightens, but you don’t falter.

You look him straight in the eye and whisper, “I’ve stayed for the ending credits.”

The silence in your apartment feels louder than anything else tonight. Not the hum of the air conditioning, not the rustle of city lights outside the window, not even your heartbeat, which has betrayed you too many times when it comes to him, “Then let me make it worth your while.”

And finally, fucking finally, he kisses you. Like he really did mean it. Maybe, he does. Sunghoon holds the sides of your face and kisses you deeply, trying so hard to memorise how you taste because he had done everything to deprive himself off of it. Each kiss translated into: fuck, I’ve always wanted to kiss you since the very first tweet.

You gasped against his lips, letting out a small noise of shock at how intense he is just from kissing you. He walks further, pushing you to the couch before he hovers over you and cup your cheeks as he looks into your eyes, kissing the tip of your nose before he kisses you again, softly, this time. Sunghoon slots himself in between your legs, holding your hand as he kisses the inside of your palm before diving to your jaw, leaving little kisses to his wake as he leans down and to suck on your jaw, leaving marks of ownership as if he’s afraid anyone had the guts to claim you.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin before toying with the straps of your night gown, flicking it against your skin so faint you almost missed the snap of the fabric against your skin, “I’m really sorry,” he whispers as he pulls your tank top to pool above your breasts, breathing at how he finally had the chance to have you like this: under him, beautiful, vulnerable – and it all boils down to him on how he should win you, again. In the charm that only a Park Sunghoon has.

His mouth envelops around the bud of your nipple, moaning hard at how he tastes the expanse of your skin. He shifts his weight down, focuses on sucking your nipple as his eyes flicker over to you, making sure you’re with him as he finally proves himself to you as he alternates between each nipple.

Sunghoon travels to the valley of your breasts, tracing the tip of his nose all throughout the flushed skin. He kisses down a trail softly to your stomach, kissing over the expanse of it, each stretch mark, each mole that you didn’t even know existed there. He travels down and became face to face with your pulsating core. He breaths out, a familiar sight right before him, but this time, he’s not hiding anymore.

“Shit,” you breathe out as you feel his breath fanning over your core. He pokes his tongue on the wet patch that has formed on your underwear, groaning as if he’s tasting you again for the first time. He chuckles when he meets your heated gaze, “Relax,” he says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better,” and he chuckles at your breathy threat.

He hums before licking a stripe over your clothed core, giving you what you want but not exactly the way you want it. It was a while of teasing you, mixing his saliva with the wetness that is evident over the cotton of your panties. And after a while, Sunghoon pulls it down before immediately diving into your clit.

You squeal and immediately tighten your thighs around his face, holding on his hair tightly as he alternated on flicking his tongue against your clit and sucking it hard that whenever he lets it go, a pop is evident between your close bodies. He ate you out like he wanted to prove something, that him in love and eating you out was better than the last time he did so, but evidently in lust. And he doesn’t slide a finger inside you. He focuses his tongue and mouth in all the places you needed him.

“Bedroom,” you try to say as you tap his shoulder, “please,” you added.

Sunghoon stopped and grinned at you before scooping you with his arms and carry you bridal style. Both of your heartbeats as loud as it could be, thumping against the vulnerable expanse of your chest. He lays you down softly on your bed with a thump, and it’s almost as if Sunghoon is met with a sudden rush of urgency, he strips himself off his clothes before leaning down again to kiss you.

He grinds his crotch against yours, hissing as his shaft feel the wetness from your core smearing all over him. He presses his forehead on yours as he stayed that way for a deadly, long time. Just his shaft slipping in between your hungry folds, edging the both of you the way you both have played this game for so long. You whimper whenever you feel his tip grazing your hole just a tad, but lose it whenever you feel the drag of it against your clit.

“Please,” you beg again, “I need you, Hoon.”

“Goddamn,” Sunghoon mutters, as if bracing himself. He perches up, arms on either side of your head before lining his tip against your already throbbing entrance. He pokes the tip of his dick against it, letting out a broken moan as he feels how wet you are. And he eases himself in – too slippery, he thinks – and you’re comfortable just right. You hug his dick snugly but fit him inside easily, it was as if it was a perfect fit.

“Such a perfect pussy for me,” he groans, “I fit you so well, Y/N,”

He drags each thrust slowly, making you want to feel each vein, each drag, how your walls pulsate around his big dick that even with little movement, bullies your cervix in such a delicious way. Each thrust has his lips hanging over yours, and a small part of you wishes he kisses you while he does, but with each hard thrusts, he is jutted forward, and his lips only graze yours.

“Park Sunghoon,” you called out, “kiss me.”

And his eyes meet yours, before breaking out into a grin and obliges you. This kiss was slow, taking its time. Teeth clashing here and there, tongues desperate to feel each muscle, breaths exchanged in heavy and deep heaves, each meant a confession heavier than the last one. God, amidst all miscommunication and the game you willingly played with him, Sunghoon was a fit candidate to what you know is love.

“I love you,” Sunghoon stutters as his thrust increased, beating you to a love confession that you had unwillingly placed upon the category of competition on who gets to say it first.

Well, you’re glad he said it first.

You smiled before reaching out to wrap your arms around him before cupping the side of his face, and he leans in, kissing the inside of your palm again with his free hand wrapping around the circumference of your wrist, “You idiot,” you laugh, and he does, too, “I love you, too.”

And then you’re coming, climax crashing into you before you realise that you are coming undone around him. This makes him groan around you, chasing his orgasm, and then: “Shit, can I come inside?”

You laugh at him seeking approval, but you nod, anyway. And he comes inside you, pulling you up in a hug, as if he needed your body against him to ground himself in the intensity, and Sunghoon shudders at each emotion flowing out of him. His lips busying itself kissing whatever skin near to his mouth, but his eyes are screwed shut as he lets out breathy exhales, trying so hard not to cry but he does.

Tears staining your back and his sniffles fill the room and you pull him away to cup his cheeks, “Sunghoon,” you call him softly.

“I’m sorry, I love you, I fucking do,” he says softly, looking into your eyes, “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

A smile breaks out from your lips, “You’re goddamn cheesy.”

“Only for you,” he chuckles.

And you smile at him as if you placed all the past behind.

Sure, you first thought how crazy it is that everything started with just one harmless thread about him being the man everyone desired to be. You first thought how this is a mistake, how everything was a mistake. That your world didn’t belong in his, because his perfection didn’t deserve an ounce of taint from your life, but you’ve come to realise that Sunghoon is as human as you are.

He was a perfectionist, true, but he was a coward all the same. Masking his imperfection in his continuous strive to become perfect, and this is one of the times that he let himself be imperfect to have the one thing he has deprived himself of: love.

As the night when on, legs tangled with each other as he slept beside you, his mask of indifference and cockiness finally shed off to make you see the boy who only wanted to be perfect to feel the love he thinks he deserve. You brush his hair off his forehead, and place a kiss on his forehead, letting the warmth dissipate.

Cut scene, cut the chase. The curtains are drawn down, the show is over.

But your story had only begun. With him.

END. ©️ acciojaeyun, 2025.

[ikeuwoniee]

I’LL KEEP YOU MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET!!

Pairing: Spiderman!jake x waitress!reader

Synopsis. When spiderman comes to your window after saving you a few days prior, you couldnt help but let him in, especially if it means a chance to kiss him!

Note: sooo so so messy ive been working on this at nightfor the past month so not checked (lmk if u find errors)!! 15k words, jakes lovestruck, no smut but a lot of kissing —

enha masterlist

The clock above the register ticked louder after midnight, each second dragging like syrup down a cold plate. You wiped the counter again even though it was already clean, more out of habit than necessity.

The diner buzzed in low fluorescent hums, casting pale yellow halos over the Formica tables and cracked leather booths. Neon light from the sign outside flickered like a broken promise—JIN’S DINER—the “I” sputtering every few seconds like it couldn’t decide whether to exist.

There weren’t many customers left at this hour, just the usual scattered souls: a couple of old men nursing mugs of coffee that had long gone cold, a student passed out over a plate of untouched pancakes, and him—Jake Sim. He always sat in booth five, the one by the window, and never ordered more than a black coffee and a slice of apple pie.

You didn’t know much about him except that he always left a tip way too big for what he ordered and smiled like someone who’d grown used to hiding something behind it. You wouldn’t call him charming—at least not in the way he probably wanted—but he had this warm-eyed thing going for him, like someone who spent more time thinking than speaking.

He wasn’t here tonight.

You glanced at the door more than once, trying to play it off as routine, but your hand hesitated slightly over the stack of menus. “Guess he’s skipping pie tonight,” you murmured under your breath, unsure why you even noticed.

The wind outside howled against the big front window, and the smell of rain snuck in every time the door opened. You were halfway through re-counting the cash drawer when the crack of glass and a scream rang out from just outside.

“Shit.” The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

Instinct moved faster than fear. You rushed around the counter and through the doors, heart slamming hard in your throat.

The alley beside the diner was narrow, boxed in by dumpsters and metal fire escapes that moaned in the wind. A man had a knife—he looked twitchy, young, like he didn’t want to be doing whatever he was doing—and the woman pressed against the brick wall was crying, one heel snapped, her purse at his feet.

“Hey!” you called out, too loud and too brave for someone without a plan. “Leave her alone!”

He turned, wild-eyed and desperate, and you immediately regretted opening your mouth. The knife shifted in your direction.

You didn’t scream. You froze.

And then he dropped from the sky.

Or not the sky, exactly—but it felt like it. One moment it was just the attacker, the victim, and you holding your breath—and the next, something swung down between them, cloaked in red and black, a blur of motion and silk.

“Bad night to pick the wrong alley, man,” Spider-Man said casually, as if he were walking into a classroom late.

He moved fast, inhumanly so, a blur of limbs and precision. The man didn’t stand a chance—two webs, a thud, a grunt, and he was stuck to the brick wall like a forgotten poster.

“Let me go!” the attacker yelled, struggling against the webbing.

“You brought a knife to a web fight,” Spider-Man replied, his tone light but edged with something colder.

The woman scrambled away, crying thank-yous, and you stayed planted on the concrete, suddenly aware of how cold the rain had become. Spider-Man turned slowly, his chest rising with sharp breaths, and though his mask gave away nothing, you could feel him watching you.

“You okay?” he asked, voice soft now—deeper than you expected, a little out of breath but controlled.

You nodded automatically, then forced yourself to speak. “Yeah. I’m—fine. I think.”

His head tilted just a bit. “You’re shivering.”

You looked down. Your hands were shaking, your shirt soaked from the rain. “Didn’t realize I ran out here without a jacket,” you said, trying to play it off, though your voice betrayed the adrenaline still racing through you.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said, quieter this time, more serious. “Running into danger like that.”

Your brows furrowed. “She was gonna get hurt.”

“I had it handled.”

“I didn’t know that,” you snapped, before softening. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

That made him pause. For a moment, the air felt charged, full of unsaid things. Then, quietly, he added, “I usually am.”

You blinked. “What?”

He looked up at the fire escape like he was about to leave. “Nothing. Just… be careful next time.”

Then he turned, climbing the wall like it was nothing, disappearing into the rain with one clean pull of his web. Just gone—like smoke slipping through fingers.

You stared after him for a long moment, heart still racing, the imprint of his words echoing through your head.

I usually am.

You didn’t know what he meant, but somehow, it felt personal. Like something about you had been on his mind before tonight.

The woman ran. The attacker sobbed, stuck six feet up and webbed like a fly.

You stayed there, the streetlight painting the puddles with soft golds and oranges, thinking not about the danger, not about the woman, not about your own shaking hands—but about him. About the way he lingered.

The next Tuesday felt heavier than usual, like the city had draped itself in thick fog and unspoken tension. Rain hadn’t returned, but the clouds hung low like they were waiting for a cue.

You arrived at the diner five minutes late, hair barely dry from a rushed shower, apron still wrinkled from where you’d crumpled it in your bag the night before. Jin—the owner—didn’t say anything, just grunted from behind the grill like always and slid you the list of specials nobody ever ordered.

The bell above the door jingled three minutes after your shift started. That familiar sound, sharp and casual, had always blended into the background—until now.

You didn’t look up at first, more focused on wiping yesterday’s fingerprints off the dessert case. But then you heard the voice.

“Black coffee. No sugar.”

Your spine went a little straight.

Jake Sim.

He stood on the other side of the counter like no time had passed, like he hadn’t vanished for a week after the most terrifying moment of your month happened twenty feet from where you were now. His hoodie was pulled tight around his shoulders, the drawstrings lopsided and frayed. There was a faint purplish bruise along his jawline, like someone had elbowed him by accident—or not by accident.

You looked at him for a second too long. “Rough week?” you asked, pouring the coffee into the thick white mug that had the tiniest chip on its rim.

He shrugged, then smiled. “You could say that.”

“You missed pie night,” you replied, sliding the mug toward him. “Thought the universe might’ve imploded or something.”

He chuckled, low and warm. “I had to break the streak eventually.”

“Mmm. Tragic.” You leaned your hip against the counter, tapping your pen against your order pad. “The usual booth?”

Jake hesitated. “Mind if I sit at the counter today?”

That was new.

You blinked. “Uh… sure. No law against that.”

He climbed onto the stool with slow movements, like something in his side ached. You noticed, because you always noticed small things—especially when people tried to hide them. Still, you didn’t ask.

“So,” he said, hands wrapped around the mug like it was doing more than just warming his palms. “Did you hear about the alleyway thing last week? By here?”

You raised a brow. “You mean the thing where some guy tried to rob a woman, and Spider-Man dropped from the sky like a horror movie jump scare?”

His smile faltered a little. “Yeah. That one.”

“Was there a follow-up? I haven’t seen anything in the news. Not that the news cares about stuff that happens in this part of town.”

“They caught the guy,” he said, eyes on the steam rising from his coffee. “Apparently Spider-Man webbed him up so tight it took three cops and a crowbar to get him down.”

“Sounds about right.” You didn’t mean to sound so casual, but the moment still lived behind your eyes like a photograph burned into your mind. “He didn’t say much. Spider-Man, I mean.”

Jake’s gaze flicked toward you. “What’d he say?”

You thought back. The way he looked at you. The way he told you to be careful. The way he lingered.

“He told me I shouldn’t run into danger,” you murmured, then forced a smirk. ���Which is hilarious, considering he wears spandex and jumps off buildings for fun.”

Jake laughed at that, a soft huff that sounded more like relief than humor. “He’s probably trying to be helpful.”

“Yeah,” you replied, almost too quietly. “He was.”

There was a moment of silence after that—one of those heavy, stretching pauses that doesn’t feel awkward until you notice it. Jake sipped his coffee again, eyes distant like he was replaying something in his head.

Then, without looking at you, he asked, “Did he scare you?”

The question surprised you. Not just the words—but the way he asked it, like it mattered to him on some level you couldn’t see.

You shrugged. “No. He didn’t scare me. He just felt… I don’t know. Like he’d been watching already. Not in a creepy way, just—”

“Like he knew where to be,” Jake finished.

“Yeah,” you said, brows pulling together. “Exactly.”

He nodded, and that was the end of it.

You worked the rest of your shift like normal. The diner filled up briefly around nine—mostly tired truckers, delivery guys, and late-night wanderers. Jake stayed put at the counter, refilling his coffee twice and scribbling something in a small notebook he kept in his hoodie pocket.

You didn’t ask what he was writing. You weren’t sure you were supposed to.

When your break came around midnight, you stepped outside for some air. The alley where it happened was still roped off with caution tape that had lost its fight against the wind. You leaned against the brick wall and tilted your head back toward the sky.

There were no stars—just the faint glow of city haze and one flickering streetlamp near the end of the block. You thought about how quiet the alley had become. How fast everything had changed in one second flat.

The air moved behind you.

Not loud. Not enough to startle. Just enough to remind you that something was there.

You turned your head slightly.

A figure crouched on the edge of the rooftop—Spider-Man, perfectly still, the red of his suit a muted silhouette under the dim light. He didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just watched.

You didn’t know how long he’d been there. You didn’t know why he was watching you.

You also didn’t know why your chest tightened slightly when your eyes met, even from a distance. Not fear. Not discomfort. Something else. Something you couldn’t name.

You took a step back.

“I’m not gonna run into danger,” you said softly, half-smiling up at him. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

He didn’t say anything. But you could tell he heard you. His head dipped ever so slightly before he stood, turned, and vanished across the rooftop with one silent leap.

You didn’t realize you were smiling until you walked back inside, the sound of the bell above the door grounding you again in the real world.

Jake was gone.

His coffee cup sat empty on the counter, and there was a folded napkin under the edge of the plate.

You opened it and read the words scribbled in black ink.

You shouldn’t be alone out there. Even if you’re brave.

—J

Your fingers tightened slightly around the paper.

You didn’t think much of Jake Sim.

But that night, for the first time, you wondered about him.

The heat came early that week.

Not in temperature, but in the way the city moved—restless, sticky, unsettled. Even the diner felt warmer than usual, the ceiling fans spinning too slow, doing too little. Your apron clung to your waist, and you rolled your sleeves up higher than you usually did, trying to ignore how the sweat clung to the back of your neck.

It was Tuesday again, which meant Jake.

Booth five had already been claimed when you came in—he was seated there with a book he never seemed to read and a mug of coffee that hadn’t been touched. You slid behind the counter, tying your hair back with an old rubber band, and tried not to glance at him more than once.

He smiled when you passed by, that familiar half-tilted grin that felt like a habit instead of a greeting. “Thought you might call in,” he said quietly, voice soft beneath the sizzle of the fryer.

You looked over your shoulder. “Why would I?”

Jake shrugged, watching you with unreadable eyes. “Just a hunch.”

He looked like he hadn’t slept. The shadows under his eyes weren’t dramatic, but they were there. His hoodie sleeves were pulled down over his hands, but you noticed the slight stiffness in how he moved when he reached for his cup.

You frowned. “You’re limping.”

Jake didn’t flinch. “No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

He looked up at you—really looked. The air between you tightened like it had its own pulse.

“You’re observant,” he said finally.

“And you’re not good at lying.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for half a second before he dropped it back to his coffee.

“I’ll be fine,” he murmured.

You didn’t know why the words made your stomach twist.

Later, during your break, the sun had long dipped below the skyline. You slipped out the back entrance, ignoring the way the wind tangled your hair and caught on the corners of your sleeves. The alley looked the same. Maybe a little darker. A little quieter.

You weren’t afraid. Not really. Not anymore.

Your back was against the brick wall when you felt it—that familiar shift in the air. Barely perceptible. Like gravity had bent slightly.

“You’re starting to make a habit out of this,” you said to the shadows, your voice low and casual, almost teasing.

Spider-Man stepped from the rooftop edge, dropping into view with silent ease. His landing was controlled, slow, like he didn’t want to startle you.

He didn’t answer at first.

“I could say the same,” he said after a beat, and you didn’t miss the softness in his tone. “You come out here a lot.”

You crossed your arms, the wall cool against your spine. “Break time.”

His head tilted slightly. “Even when it’s not safe?”

You narrowed your eyes, not in challenge—but in curiosity. “Are you watching me?”

A pause.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

The silence that followed was full—not awkward, not empty. Just full. Like the space between you two had become a container for all the things neither of you was saying.

He took a step closer.

You didn’t back away. You didn’t need to.

“I don’t mean it in a weird way,” he added quickly, his voice lower now, almost rough. “I just—keep an eye out. In case you ever…”

“In case I ever what?” you asked.

His breath caught. “Needed someone.”

You didn’t reply for a second. Your eyes met his—what little you could see of them through the mask. The fabric moved slightly with each breath he took.

The air between you felt warmer. The kind of warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. The kind of warmth that started behind your ribs and burned slowly through your veins.

His hand twitched slightly at his side, like he thought about reaching for you. But he didn’t.

“You don’t have to keep checking on me,” you said, your voice soft now. “I’m not—helpless.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “That’s not why I come.”

You didn’t ask why. You didn’t have to.

He stood there, not even a foot from you, tall and quiet and still soaked with city noise clinging to his suit like dust. You could see a scrape along the side of his jaw—just under the mask, raw and red like it had only barely stopped bleeding.

“You’re hurt,” you murmured.

“I’ve had worse.”

You didn’t think. You just reached up.

Your fingertips brushed the edge of his mask, right where the fabric met his skin. Just a touch. Just enough to feel the heat of him underneath.

He inhaled sharply—but didn’t move.

“You should be careful too,” you whispered. “I get the feeling you’re not invincible.”

“I’m not,” he said. His voice was barely above a breath now. “Not around you.”

That stopped everything.

The wind. The sound. Even your heart.

You looked at him—really looked—and for the first time, you wondered if maybe you did know who he was. Not by name. But by presence. By the way he stood. By the way he spoke like he meant every single word.

Your hand lowered slowly.

And still—neither of you moved away.

Not quite a kiss. Not quite a touch.

Just that crackling, skin-humming closeness. Enough to make you feel like if either of you leaned in even a centimeter more, everything would come undone.

Then, just as fast as he arrived, he stepped back.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Yeah,” you said. “I know.”

And then he was gone, swallowed by the night, like he’d never been there at all.

It started with a margarita the size of your face and a promise to “unwind” for once. Sophia had just broken up with her clingy on-again-off-again situationship, and Chaewon had decided that meant shots were mandatory. You didn’t argue. You never argued on Fridays.

You hadn’t even planned to go out. But your shift had ended early, and someone had said something about neon lights and karaoke and too much glitter on a bathroom mirror, and suddenly you were there—spinning in a booth, laughing at things that weren’t that funny, with a lime wedge in your mouth and someone’s coat draped around your shoulders like armor.

By the time you realized everyone else was leaving, your phone was already at 3%. Chaewon kissed your cheek, her eyeliner smudged and perfect, and told you not to talk to strangers. Sophia promised she’d order you a cab, but her app glitched, and your own screen had turned black by the time you staggered out of the bar and into the air that hit you like a soft slap.

You weren’t falling over. But you were floating a little. The sidewalk swam beneath your boots. You clutched your bag too tightly.

You turned down a side street to take the shortcut to the station.

And that’s when you heard them.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Your head turned slowly. There were three of them. Not old, not exactly young—just that bored, lazy kind of dangerous that always smelled like cheap cologne and entitlement.

“Little late to be walking home alone, isn’t it?” one asked, stepping into your path.

You blinked. “I’m not alone,” you lied, your voice fuzzy around the edges. “I—someone’s meeting me.”

They laughed.

Your heart kicked against your ribs.

“Where’s your someone, huh?” one said, and the other moved closer. “He let you out like this? Tight little dress and nowhere to go?”

“Back off,” you said. You meant to sound sharp. It came out slurry.

A hand reached toward your arm—gentle, but wrong. Too casual. Too assuming.

You flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

You opened your mouth to scream—

—but it never made it past your lips.

Because he dropped from above like lightning splitting the sky.

A blur of red and black. The thud of boots. A body between you and the worst-case scenario. And silence, so sharp it cracked.

Spider-Man.

One of the men swore under his breath.

“Go,” Spider-Man said, voice low and lethal. “Now.”

They didn’t argue. They didn’t even try. Two ran. The third hesitated—until Spider-Man took one step forward and he bolted, footsteps echoing into the alley’s dark spine.

Your knees trembled, and you realized your palms were sweating. You hadn’t realized how cold it was.

He turned to you, fast but careful.

“Are you hurt?”

You stared up at him, throat tight. “I—I think I’m okay.”

“You’re drunk.”

You nodded, then frowned. “I didn’t mean to get this drunk.”

His eyes—wherever they were under the mask—felt warm. “You shouldn’t be walking alone.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said again, suddenly emotional. “My friends left. My phone’s dead. I—ugh, I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” you insisted, swaying just slightly. “You shouldn’t have to keep showing up for me.”

There was a pause.

“I want to,” he said.

The words hit you harder than they should have.

Your voice cracked. “I don’t wanna go home alone.”

Spider-Man shifted. “Do you want me to take you home?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

The city blurred beneath you.

His arm was around your waist, strong and steady, the wind biting at your cheeks. Your eyelids fluttered from the rush, the rooftops passing in flashes of shadow and neon. You’d never flown before—not really—but this came close.

He landed on your fire escape like he’d done it a thousand times.

You fumbled with your keys.

He watched, wordless, until you turned and looked up at him. “Do you—do you wanna come in? Just for a minute?”

His breath hitched. “Y/N…”

You blinked. “How do you know my name?”

Shit.

You stared at him.

He froze.

You stepped back slightly, lips parted. “Wait—how do you—?”

“It slipped,” he said, voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

You stared at him for a beat too long. The world tilted slightly again—not from the alcohol, but from something deeper. Something unraveling.

Still, you nodded. “I don’t care. Just… stay. Please.”

He stepped into your apartment like a shadow, quiet and careful, not touching anything. You flicked on the light and immediately regretted it—your little place looked smaller than usual, full of dishes you hadn’t washed and a half-made bed.

You kicked your shoes off and collapsed onto the mattress, watching him from over your shoulder.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured, voice half-gone. “I just—don’t want to feel alone tonight.”

Spider-Man stood in the center of your room, uncertain. You could hear his breathing.

“I won’t touch you,” you added. “I just… want you here. For a little while.”

Slowly, carefully, he crossed the room and sat on the floor near your bed, legs folded, arms resting on his knees.

Neither of you spoke.

You closed your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that—your head heavy, the air thick with things unsaid. But for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

He didn’t leave.

You woke up alone.

At first, you weren’t sure if he’d even been there at all—there was no note, no trace, not even a dent in the pillow beside yours. But the window was still cracked open, the curtain fluttering in the quiet morning air, and your boots had been lined up neatly against the wall. You don’t remember doing that.

You stared at the ceiling for a long time. The headache was manageable, the memory clear. He hadn’t touched you. Hadn’t crossed a single line. He’d just stayed—silent, steady, watching over you like you mattered.

No one had ever done that before.

You didn’t think about him for the rest of the day. At least, you told yourself you didn’t.

The sky was bruised that night—gray fading to violet, clouds cracked along the seams. You were just about to close up the diner when the bell above the door rang.

You looked up instinctively, expecting Jake. But no one came in.

Then you heard it—a soft, muffled knock on the alley door.

You hesitated. The last time someone knocked back there, it didn’t end well.

But something in your chest pulled you toward it anyway.

You pushed the back door open.

And he was there.

Leaning hard against the brick wall, half-sitting, half-collapsing, one hand pressed tightly to his ribs. His suit was torn—black and red fabric slick with blood, one shoulder gashed open, his breathing shallow and sharp.

Your breath caught. “Oh my god.”

His head lifted weakly. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You rushed forward. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ve been worse.”

“You always say that,” you snapped, crouching beside him. “Doesn’t make it less true.”

He let you help him inside. It wasn’t easy. He was heavier than he looked, and every movement made him wince. You dragged one of the chairs from the break room and lowered him into it, grabbing the dusty first aid kit from under the counter.

“Let me see,” you said, reaching for his side.

“I’m fine.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t lie to me right now.”

He didn’t argue again.

You peeled back the shredded suit carefully. His skin beneath was slick with sweat and blood, a deep gash running from the bottom of his ribs to just above his waist. You sucked in a breath.

“This needs stitches.”

He shook his head. “Just clean it. I’ll be okay.”

“Barely.”

You cleaned the wound as gently as you could, biting back every curse, every shake of your hand. His muscles twitched under your touch, and he hissed when the alcohol met open skin.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“You’re good at this,��� he muttered.

“I used to patch up my brother after every fight he picked. Got a lot of practice.”

There was a quiet beat.

“I’m not picking fights,” he said.

“I know,” you said, softer now. “You’re saving people.”

He didn’t reply. His jaw was clenched, knuckles pale where his hands gripped the chair. You glanced up at his face, and that’s when you saw it—a cut on his cheekbone, just under the edge of the mask. A streak of blood had already dried near his jaw.

“Hold still,” you murmured, and before he could protest, you reached up.

Your fingers found the edge of his mask. He tensed.

“I just want to clean it,” you promised, barely above a whisper.

After a moment, he gave the slightest nod.

You slid the mask up slowly, just over his lips and nose, revealing the sharp line of his cheek, the curve of his mouth, the vulnerable dip under his eye.

Your breath caught.

His eyes weren’t visible—but his lips were parted slightly, and the way he breathed—like he wasn’t sure what would happen next—made your pulse spike.

You dabbed the cut gently, your hand trembling. The alcohol made him flinch.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, not for the sting this time—but for the way your hand lingered.

He turned his head slightly toward your touch.

And suddenly, you couldn’t look away.

His lips were right there.

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan it. You just leaned forward—slowly, unsure—and pressed your mouth to his.

Soft. Barely a breath. Just enough to feel the heat of him.

He didn’t move for a second.

Then he kissed you back.

Not hard. Not greedy. Just aching.

Your hand curled near his shoulder, careful of the wounds, and his fingers brushed lightly—just barely—against the side of your hip, not holding, just present.

When you pulled back, you kept your eyes closed for a second longer than necessary.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

He adjusted the mask back into place with shaking hands.

You went back to cleaning his wounds, pretending your heart wasn’t about to give out. Pretending you hadn’t just kissed a stranger whose name you didn’t know, but whose breath now lived inside your lungs.

And somewhere deep in your chest, you felt the first crack of something you couldn’t take back.

You were brushing your teeth in an old sweatshirt and socks that barely matched when you heard it—three taps against your bedroom window. Not a knock. Not a bang. Just a careful, light rhythm like someone testing the edge of your attention.

You froze, toothbrush halfway to your mouth.

There it was again.

You padded toward the window, heart already halfway up your throat, and pulled the curtain aside.

Spider-Man stood on your fire escape, casual as anything, crouched low with his head tilted like a curious cat.

You stared. “Are you dying?”

He shook his head.

“Is someone else dying?”

He shook his head again.

You opened the window. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

He stepped inside with practiced ease, barely making a sound. “Just… checking in.”

You blinked. “At midnight?”

“I keep weird hours.”

You raised a brow, still holding your toothbrush. “Do you always drop in uninvited?”

“Only when I think I might be welcome.”

The room felt warmer suddenly. Maybe it was the heat off his suit, or maybe it was just the way he stood there, taking up space in the quiet—like it was normal. Like this was something you did all the time.

You turned back toward the bathroom. “Well, I’m brushing my teeth. You can… sit. Or stand. Or crawl on the ceiling. Whatever.”

You expected him to leave. Or at least hesitate.

But when you peeked back into the room five minutes later, he was still there—standing at the edge of your bed, gloved fingers brushing over the spine of a book you left on your nightstand. The copy of Turtles All The Way Down that you never finished.

You leaned against the doorframe, towel slung over your shoulder. “You read?”

He looked over. “Not enough.”

You walked past him to sit on the bed, one knee tucked under your leg, watching him. “So what, you were swinging through town and thought, ‘You know who probably needs company? That girl who let me bleed all over her kitchen floor’?”

“Something like that,” he said, voice quiet.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was almost easy. The kind of silence that exists between people who don’t need to explain why they’re sitting still in the same space.

You glanced at him again.

His posture was relaxed now. Less superhero, more… person. The lines of his suit glinted faintly under the warm bedroom light, and you noticed again how close he was. Not hovering. Just there.

You tilted your head. “Why me?”

He looked at you for a long moment. “What do you mean?”

“You could be anywhere,” you said. “Saving anyone. But you keep coming back here.”

His breath caught, just barely. “Because you make me feel like I’m not just… a mask.”

That shut you up for a second.

You swallowed. “You’re not.”

He stepped closer. Just one pace.

“Then let me stay,” he said quietly. “Just for a little while.”

You didn’t answer right away.

Then, without breaking his gaze, you pulled back the blanket beside you and nodded once.

He sat. Not on the bed—on the floor, next to where your knee dangled off the mattress, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed more than that.

You curled into the blanket. “You know you don’t have to act like I’m made of glass, right?”

“I’m trying not to scare you,” he murmured.

“You don’t.”

His voice was almost a whisper. “I want to kiss you again.”

You exhaled, heartbeat climbing.

You looked down at him—his face mostly masked, but you could still see the shape of his mouth under the fabric. Familiar now.

“I want to see you,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Just once.”

A pause.

Then: “Not yet.”

You nodded, slow. “Okay.”

He leaned his head back against the bed frame. Close enough to touch. Far enough not to.

You turned off the light.

And for a while, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the quiet rhythm of each other’s breathing—two people, a mask, and a thousand unspoken words between them.

You had just gotten out of the shower when you heard it—the soft tap-tap-tap against your window. It wasn’t cautious this time. It was quick. Urgent. Familiar.

Your breath caught.

You didn’t hesitate.

Towel still clutched around your shoulders, hair dripping down your neck, you padded barefoot across the room and pulled the curtain back with damp fingers.

He was already sliding the window open.

“Spider-Man?” you whispered, more breath than sound.

He stepped inside like he couldn’t wait another second.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t limping. But something in his body screamed need. Not for rescue. For you.

You froze. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer.

He reached for you.

His hands were still gloved, still trembling slightly, but they cupped your jaw like they’d wanted to forever. Your breath hitched. You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

“I tried to stay away,” he whispered, voice rough. “I thought I could. I can’t.”

Then he kissed you.

This time there was no hesitation. No pause. Just mouth on mouth, fast and full and wrecked with all the things he hadn’t said.

You gasped against him, your fingers tangling in the suit near his shoulders, and he groaned—soft, low, like your touch unraveled something he hadn’t let himself feel until now.

You pulled him closer.

He tasted like city rain and late-night fire escapes, like silence and wanting, like everything that had built up between you since the first time you looked at him and felt that tight, impossible spark.

He kissed you harder.

His hands roamed your back, slow but insistent, slipping beneath the edge of your shirt, touching skin like it was something sacred.

You broke the kiss only to breathe, foreheads pressed together, your chest tight with wanting.

“You’re shaking,” you whispered.

“I haven’t stopped since I left you,” he said. His voice cracked. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You kissed him again—slower this time. You let it burn, let it sink in deep.

The kind of kiss that felt like a promise and a problem at once.

He moved with you toward the bed, not rushing, just guiding, as if his body already knew the rhythm of yours. You sat first, and he followed, settling between your knees, hands braced on either side of your thighs.

You could feel the heat of him through the suit. Your hands found the edge of his mask and he tensed.

“I won’t take it off,” you said, fingers curling against the fabric. “I just want more of you.”

You lifted it halfway—just enough to expose his lips again. The curve of his cheek. The jaw you’d kissed once before.

He leaned in.

The next kiss was deeper.

Messier.

One of your legs slipped around his waist, your hands gripping his back through the suit like he was the only real thing in the world.

His tongue slid against yours, slow and desperate, and you moaned—quiet and real and completely undone.

When you pulled back, both of you were breathless.

Your fingers brushed his bare cheek.

He stared at you.

You could’ve said anything. You could’ve told him how you’re getting fond of whatever this was between you guys. But instead, you kissed him again, hoping that it gets the message across.

The diner buzzed with the familiar noise of a Friday night rush — the clatter of plates, low conversations spilling across booths, and the steady hum of the old jukebox playing soft tunes in the background. You moved behind the counter, wiping it down carefully, your hands working on autopilot while your mind drifted somewhere else, somewhere quieter.

Sophia slid into the stool beside you, pushing a loose curl from her face with a playful grin. “Okay, spill it,” she said, voice dropping just enough to feel like a secret. “You’ve been different lately. Happier. More… sparkly. What’s going on?”

Chaewon leaned in too, arms crossed and eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yeah, you’re practically glowing. We’re demanding answers.”

You laughed, the sound soft and easy, but a blush warmed your cheeks anyway. “It’s nothing serious. I’ve just been casually seeing a guy.”

Sophia’s eyes brightened. “Ooo, a guy? Spill! What’s he like?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light and casual. “Nothing special, really. Just hanging out. No drama, no expectations.”

Chaewon gave a knowing nod. “Sounds like fun.”

You smiled, but didn’t offer more. The truth was, you enjoyed the simplicity — the way it wasn’t complicated or heavy. Just a guy. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Unnoticed by you, Jake stood quietly near the diner’s entrance, leaning against the wall with a coffee cup in hand. His dark eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, tracing the easy smile you wore, the way your eyes lit up with your friends. There was a crease in his brow, a quiet ache masked beneath his calm expression.

He said nothing. Didn’t move or interrupt. Just listened.

You caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, but by then he was already turning away, slipping out the back door like a shadow.

The air felt heavier suddenly, like you’d just let a secret out you hadn’t meant to share, even if the words themselves were harmless.

Later, when the crowd had thinned and the neon “Closed” sign flickered on, you leaned against the counter, the quiet settling around you like a soft blanket. The night air was cooler now, the streets bathed in amber streetlight.

You were just locking the door when Jake’s voice came softly from behind you.

“Hey.”

You turned, startled but not frightened.

He stepped closer, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“You okay?”

You nodded, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, just tired.”

He smiled briefly, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You looked different tonight.”

“Different how?”

“Happier,” he said quietly. “Like someone’s got you walking on clouds.”

You laughed, brushing your hair back. “It’s just… casual. Nothing worth worrying about.”

Jake’s gaze softened, but the tension around his jaw didn’t ease.

“Just casual, huh?”

“Yeah.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with words neither of you wanted to say.

Jake swallowed. “I’m glad.”

You blinked, surprised by the simple honesty.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

He stepped back, hands lifting slightly like he was ready to disappear again.

But then, his voice dropped, hesitant. “If you ever want to talk… or if you need anything…”

You smiled, the warmth in his tone seeping into your chest.

“I’ll be around,” you said.

Jake nodded, then slipped away into the night, leaving you standing there with a new, quiet ache you couldn’t name.

It starts like always.

He climbs through your window with his suit half unzipped and his breath uneven, like he ran all the way across the city just to touch you. You don’t say anything at first. You just step aside and let him in, like you’ve been doing this for weeks.

He reaches for you without hesitation, fingers curling around your waist like a reflex. His mouth finds yours before you can even breathe his name, and it’s like flipping a switch—heat, pressure, want. All of it there in an instant.

He kisses you like he’s starving. Like he’s scared it’ll be the last time. You tilt your head and let it happen, let his hands pull you closer, let the weight of the day melt into something warmer.

“You looked so pretty at the diner,” he says between kisses, voice low and rough and close to your ear. “When you were sitting with Sophia and Chaewon.”

The words don’t register at first.

His mouth is on your neck now. His hands are at the hem of your shirt. He’s saying more—something about how you laughed when Chaewon told a story. Something about how you looked away when Sophia teased you. Something about your voice when you said you were seeing someone.

Your heart stops.

You pull away.

His breath hitches, hands still hovering near your waist. He looks at you with the mask still on, lenses wide, unreadable.

Your voice is cold. “What did you say?”

“I—” He straightens slightly. “I said you looked—”

“No. You said I was talking to Sophia and Chaewon.”

He goes still.

You stare at him. “No one else was around that night. Just us. It was slow. We were cleaning up. There were no customers. No one came to the counter.”

He doesn’t speak.

Your chest tightens. “Except Jake.”

His posture shifts. Not much. But just enough.

Just enough to confirm everything you didn’t want to believe.

Your throat burns. “You were sitting in the last booth. Hoodie. Headphones. Vanilla milkshake.”

The mask says nothing. But the silence behind it screams the truth.

You step back, blood rushing to your ears. “Say something.”

He doesn’t move.

So you whisper it, voice sharp with betrayal. “You’re Jake.”

Still nothing.

“Take it off.”

He flinches.

You take another step forward. “Take. It. Off.”

“I didn’t mean to lie,” he says softly.

“I don’t care what you meant.” Your voice is trembling now, but you don’t stop. “You touched me. You kissed me. You watched me talk about you without knowing. You owe me this.”

His hands slowly rise.

He presses his fingers to the edge of the mask and pulls it up—slowly, carefully—until it peels over his jaw, his cheeks, his eyes.

And there he is.

Jake.

Messy hair. Wide eyes. That same guilty half-smile he gave you every time you refilled his coffee at the diner. But now it’s cracked open, raw and real and exposed in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You stare at him.

It’s worse seeing it for real. Somehow, it always is.

“I wanted to tell you,” he says, voice barely holding together. “But every time I tried… you looked at me like I was just Jake. And I wanted to be more than that to you.”

“You already were,” you whisper. “You just didn’t trust me to know it.”

He swallows, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry.”

You nod slowly, even though nothing about this feels okay. “You should go.”

He doesn’t fight it.

He just lowers the mask again, step by step, until it hides the truth once more.

Then he climbs out the window, leaving behind the version of himself you’ll never see the same again.

And you don’t cry.

You just stand there in the quiet and wonder if any of it was real—or if it was all just another mask.

The bell above the door jingled at exactly 9:42 a.m.

You didn’t look up.

You were pouring coffee into a chipped white mug, the pot warm in your hand, the scent clinging to your clothes the way it always did after an hour behind the counter. Sophia was already in the back prepping waffles, and Chaewon had just started sorting silverware into trays like it mattered.

He slid into his usual booth.

You could feel it without even turning around—the shape of him, the weight of his presence. You didn’t need to see his face. You could trace the silence he carried like a line straight through your chest.

You didn’t say hi.

Didn’t ask if he wanted the vanilla milkshake this time.

Didn’t ask if he was tired from swinging across rooftops and kissing you like you meant something.

You just grabbed the coffee pot again and moved toward him slowly, like your body hadn’t registered what your heart already decided: you weren’t ready to forgive him.

He looked up when you approached.

His hair was still slightly damp like he’d showered in a rush. His hoodie was soft and wrinkled. His fingers were curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

You said nothing.

You poured the coffee into the mug in front of him—half full, just how he liked it—and turned to leave without another word.

“Y/N…” he tried again.

You didn’t stop. Not until his next words caught you mid-step.

“I didn’t sleep. Not at all.”

You turned your head, slowly, your eyes barely landing on him. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have lied.”

His face cracked—just a flicker—but you caught it.

You were good at reading people. You just weren’t good at reading him.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you held up a hand.

“No, Jake. Not here.”

He blinked. “So… you’re just gonna act like you don’t know me?”

You gave a bitter little smile, one corner of your mouth twitching. “I know you better than I ever asked to.”

Chaewon poked her head out from the kitchen just then, eyes landing on you both with curiosity. She didn’t say anything, but her eyebrows raised a little like she was preparing for gossip.

You turned back to the counter, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck.

Jake didn’t move.

He sat in silence while his coffee went cold. He didn’t drink it. Didn’t even touch the spoon.

Eventually, Sophia came out front and started asking him if he needed cream or sugar. You didn’t listen to his answer. You just watched the light on the countertop catch the reflection of the glass door as it swung open again.

This time, when it closed, Jake was gone.

And still—you didn’t feel better.

Just more certain that pretending he didn’t exist was going to hurt both of you.

The city never really sleeps, but tonight it feels miles away from your small apartment. Streetlights spill pale orange through the curtains, casting long, lazy shadows across the floorboards. Outside, distant sirens echo faintly, reminders that life pulses somewhere else—somewhere you’re not sure you want to be.

You drop onto the couch, worn cushions sighing beneath you like an old friend. Your knees press into your chest, arms wrapping around them loosely, as if holding yourself together is all you can manage right now. The apartment smells faintly of cold coffee and something forgotten—a hint of vanilla from the last late-night batch you made.

Your fingers absentmindedly trace the frayed fabric of the cushion, each thread like a memory you can’t quite untangle. The words he said—no, the things he didn’t say—loop in your mind, turning over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

The way he kissed you, as both Jake and Spider-Man. The way he knew things no one should know. The quiet confession hiding behind the mask. The betrayal.

Your chest feels tight, the weight of it pressing down like a physical thing.

Your phone vibrates once, sharply, slicing through the silence. You glance at the screen. No name. No message. Just a notification that feels too heavy to open.

You don’t.

Instead, you push yourself up and walk to the coffee table where your old notebook lies. You haven’t touched it in months, not since life became a tangled mess of half-truths and broken silences.

The cover creaks as you flip it open, pages yellowed and edges curling with age. You pick up the pen beside it and press it to paper.

You don’t write about him. You don’t write about Jake or Spider-Man. You write about you.

The ink flows slowly, like breathing underwater—each word a step toward understanding the storm inside.

You write about the diner’s quiet hum on slow afternoons, the way the sunlight feels too sharp after nights like this, how you sometimes crave silence even when your thoughts are loud.

You write about trust—how fragile it feels when it’s cracked, how hard it is to rebuild something that’s broken.

You write about loneliness. Not the kind that comes from being alone, but the kind that comes from standing too close to someone who keeps parts of themselves hidden.

Hours pass as the ink stains your fingers and the city outside fades further into background noise.

Your breath steadies. The knot in your chest loosens, just enough to let a small, tired smile escape.

You close the notebook, tucking it back on the shelf with gentle care, like a secret you’re not ready to share.

Tonight is yours.

No masks. No lies.

Just the quiet truth, and the slow, steady beating of your own heart.

The morning light streams through the diner’s wide windows, soft and warm like a delicate invitation. It spills across the linoleum floor in golden patches, settling over the worn booths and gleaming countertops as if nothing had shifted in the world overnight.

But everything has shifted.

You stand behind the counter, hands moving out of habit as you wipe down tables and refill syrup bottles. Your fingers linger over the familiar glass jars, the sticky sweetness reminding you of simpler days—days before the mask slipped, before the lies took shape, before you realized how fragile trust could be.

Your mind drifts, weaving between the moments you replay over and over. The way he kissed you, both as Spider-Man and as Jake. The way he knew things you hadn’t told anyone, secrets shared in the quiet moments with your friends. The ache of betrayal still raw beneath your skin.

Sophia steps out from the kitchen, the clatter of plates quieting behind her. She pauses beside you, her gaze catching yours with a softness that makes you almost want to break down. Almost.

“You okay?” she asks quietly, voice a gentle thread in the morning hum of the diner.

You force a small smile, hoping it’s convincing enough. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She watches you for a moment longer, eyes sharp and steady. Then she reaches out, handing you a cup of freshly brewed coffee without a word.

Your fingers brush hers for a brief second, a simple contact that feels more comforting than any words could.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying beyond the counter.

Sophia nods, her presence steady and reassuring. She doesn’t press you for answers, doesn’t demand you to share what you’re not ready to say. Instead, she stays near, a quiet anchor in the swirl of your thoughts.

You take a slow sip of the coffee, the warmth spreading through your chest and grounding you. For a moment, the chaos of last night recedes, replaced by the familiar rhythm of the diner and the soft murmur of customers beginning their day.

Chaewon joins you then, carrying a tray of freshly toasted bagels, her smile bright despite the early hour. The three of you share a quiet glance, an unspoken understanding passing between you—a small reminder that even in the midst of uncertainty, you’re not alone.

As the morning unfolds, you find yourself breathing a little easier, the tight knot in your chest loosening just enough to let a flicker of hope through.

Today is yours, even if the past still lingers in the corners.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for now.

The diner’s lights flicked off one by one as you finished the last round of cleaning, the soft clatter of dishes and low hum of the city outside creating a familiar lull. It was later than usual, and the air in your small apartment felt thick with exhaustion and something you couldn’t quite name.

Outside, the world was quiet — deceptively so. The kind of quiet that fills the spaces just before chaos erupts.

You slid your phone into your pocket, the vibration from an unanswered message still buzzing faintly against your thigh. No name. No words. Just a silent echo.

Locking the door behind you, you stepped out into the night. The cold air bit at your cheeks, sharp and electric against your flushed skin.

Then you heard it — a harsh, sudden crash that ripped through the silence like a jagged blade. It was close. Too close.

Without thinking, your feet moved faster, adrenaline snapping tight through your veins. Your heart pounded so loud you were sure it would burst free from your ribs.

Turning into the narrow alley beside the diner, you froze.

There, crumpled against the cold brick wall, was the flash of red and blue — Spider-Man.

His body was twisted, broken in ways no human should be. A deep, angry gash ran across his cheek, blood staining the fabric of his mask and trickling onto the pavement.

Your breath hitched.

Panic slammed through you like a tidal wave. Kneeling beside him, your hands trembled as you reached out, brushing damp hair from his forehead.

“Jake,” you whispered, voice trembling, barely daring to speak the name you’d come to know so intimately yet so secretly.

His eyes flickered open, dark and clouded with pain and confusion. For the first time, you saw him not as an elusive hero or mysterious stranger, but as a fragile, human man — vulnerable and broken.

Your chest constricted, a sharp ache blossoming deep inside.

You pressed your palm against the bleeding wound, fingers trembling as you tried to steady both him and yourself.

Tears blurred your vision as the realization dawned—this was more than admiration, more than curiosity.

You had fallen for him. For Jake.

Not the mask. Not the myth. The man beneath it all.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder, but you didn’t want to let go.

“I’m here,” you promised softly, voice steady even as your heart shattered.

And in the cold night, holding him close, you finally understood the weight of love—its fragility, its power, and its fierce, unrelenting truth.

You didn’t take him to a hospital.

You couldn’t. He whispered it once — not there, don’t take me there — voice broken and laced with panic beneath the blood and bruises. It wasn’t pride. It was fear. Fear of being unmasked, exposed, vulnerable in front of people who wouldn’t see Jake, only Spider-Man.

So you took him home.

It was slow, agonizing. He leaned heavily on you, half-conscious, his breaths shallow and uneven. Each step felt like a mile, his weight shifting in your arms as you tried to keep him upright. You didn’t stop. Not once. Not even when your legs trembled beneath his.

By the time you reached your apartment, your arms were shaking from the strain and your lungs burned from holding in every sound that wanted to escape — the panic, the heartbreak, the truth.

He collapsed onto your couch the second you let go, one arm slung over the backrest, the other curled protectively around his ribs. His mask was still on, though it hung loosely, barely clinging to his cheekbones.

You knelt in front of him, hands already reaching for the emergency kit tucked beneath your bathroom sink.

Your voice was quiet. “I need to see.”

He didn’t answer. Just nodded — a barely-there motion. Trusting you. Giving in.

You peeled the mask away gently, trying not to wince when it tugged against dried blood. His eyes fluttered shut as the air touched his skin, and for a moment, he looked like a boy. Not a hero. Not a name whispered in awe across rooftops. Just Jake. Broken and breathing.

Your breath caught when you saw the full damage — the bruises already blooming across his ribs, the cuts along his collarbone, the torn skin at his temple. His lip was split. His left wrist swollen and scraped raw.

You whispered his name like a question. “Jake.”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “It looks worse than it is.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, your voice cracking.

Still, your hands moved with careful purpose.

Warm washcloth first — soft, wet, stained with the grime of soot and blood and the city. You wiped gently at the wounds on his face, watching his brow twitch with every press. His breath hitched when your fingertips brushed too close to the edge of a bruise, but he didn’t pull away.

Next came the antiseptic. The hiss of pain from his mouth made you flinch, but he didn’t curse. Just gritted his teeth and looked away, jaw tight.

You pressed a bandage to the cut on his cheek. “You’re lucky I didn’t listen to you and take you straight to the ER.”

He smiled faintly, eyes half-lidded. “You always this stubborn?”

“Only with people who lie to me,” you said.

His smile faded. The silence between you turned heavier, more intimate somehow. Fragile.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said softly. “Like I could break.”

You dipped your head, pulling gauze around his forearm with slow precision. “Too late.”

He exhaled through his nose, something between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re mad.”

You tied off the bandage, not looking at him. “You’re lucky that’s all I am.”

He was quiet for a moment, then: “You could’ve left me there.”

You looked up. His eyes were glassy, bloodshot. Honest.

“I couldn’t,” you said. “I couldn’t leave you like that. I couldn’t… lose you.”

The words escaped before you could stop them. And they hung in the air, trembling.

He looked at you like he heard everything you weren’t saying.

You pressed your hand against his chest, right over the bruise spreading beneath the suit. “You scared me.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve died.”

“I know,” he whispered again, voice thin. “I was thinking about you when I hit the wall.”

You blinked, breath catching. “What?”

He closed his eyes. “I thought about how I never told you properly. That I was Jake. That I was sorry. That I—”

“Don’t,” you said softly. “Not now.”

He opened his eyes again. “Why not?”

“Because I need you to stay awake. And alive.”

His lips curved gently, even through the pain. “Then sit with me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You eased onto the couch beside him, lifting his arm carefully to rest against your shoulders. His head dropped slightly, forehead grazing your temple. He smelled like sweat and concrete and something warm beneath the bruises. Something safe.

You stayed there for hours.

And as he drifted to sleep, breath shallow against your skin, you pressed your hand to his chest again — to feel it.

His heartbeat.

Steady.

Alive.

Yours to keep safe tonight.

The apartment was quiet.

The kind of quiet that follows long nights and heavy truths — not heavy like sadness, but heavy like something honest finally laid down between two people.

The first light of morning slipped through your curtains, brushing against the edges of the living room like soft breath. You stirred on the couch before he did, one arm still looped around Jake’s shoulders, your other hand resting gently on his chest.

He hadn’t moved all night.

His breathing had stayed shallow and steady, his face peaceful despite the bruises, and you’d stayed exactly where you were. Awake for most of it. Watching him sleep. Listening to the sounds of the city slowly restart outside.

You weren’t afraid anymore. Not of him. Not of what it meant to know who he was.

You didn’t pull away when he finally stirred.

He shifted slightly, groaning under his breath, one arm tightening loosely around your waist.

“I didn’t die,” he muttered, voice low and cracked with sleep. “Cool.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, tilting your head toward him. “Shocking. Your dramatic fall against a brick wall wasn’t fatal.”

His lips twitched. “I’ll try harder next time.”

“Don’t you dare,” you said, and even though it came out dry, he heard the weight in it. He heard the fear that hadn’t left you yet.

Jake’s eyes opened slowly. They were dark and warm and still tired. “How long did you stay up?”

You looked away. “I didn’t count.”

“You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Nope.”

A pause.

“I didn’t want to miss anything,” you added, quieter now. “Like your breathing stopping. Or your heart. Or you just disappearing.”

“I wouldn’t leave like that.”

“You almost did.”

Jake didn’t argue. He reached up with his unbandaged hand and gently brushed your hair behind your ear.

You didn’t stop him.

There was no kiss. No bold declarations. No need to name what this was.

But something had changed.

The closeness wasn’t strange anymore. The touches weren’t careful. You both moved around each other like something shared had finally settled — something real. A middle place between love and caution. Between healing and wanting.

You sat up slowly, stretching your arms as the sunlight caught on your skin. “I’ll make you something.”

Jake blinked up at you. “Like… food?”

“Yes, genius,” you said, standing. “You almost died. You need eggs.”

He smiled fully this time. Not the nervous, half-smile you’d seen at the diner. Not the flirtatious smirk he wore behind the mask. Just Jake. Tired. Bruised. Comfortable.

You made scrambled eggs and burnt toast because that’s all you had, and he sat on your couch, wrapped in a throw blanket like a very injured and slightly cocky ghost.

He didn’t ask to leave.

You didn’t ask him to stay.

But you both knew he would.

It started to feel normal.

Not everything. Not the bruises that still dotted Jake’s ribs or the way you sometimes caught yourself staring at the scars on his back when he changed in your bathroom. Not the fact that his phone would buzz and his entire body would tense like the city itself was pulling him back through a tether.

But the rest of it — the in-betweens — started to feel easy.

He came through the window now, not like a secret, not like a ghost, but like someone who knew the way. You didn’t flinch when you heard the soft thud of boots on the fire escape. You didn’t rush to hide whatever you were doing. You just opened the window wider and stepped back so he could crawl inside.

“You keep leaving it unlocked,” he said one night, ducking in with his suit unzipped halfway and his hair damp from either rain or a rooftop leak — you weren’t sure which.

You didn’t look up from your book. “Maybe I just like the breeze.”

He scoffed quietly, toeing off his boots and setting them beside the window like he lived here. “Right. It’s the breeze. Definitely not the charming superhero with a mild head injury.”

“You hit your head again?” you asked, glancing over the top of your pages.

“Only a little.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it. He knew where the first aid kit was now. He knew how to use it. You weren’t going to hover — not anymore.

Instead, you scooted over on the couch.

He hesitated, just for a second, then sat beside you with a soft groan. The blanket was already pooled on the cushion. You didn’t offer it. He didn’t ask. He just pulled it over both your legs like he belonged there.

And maybe, in this moment, he did.

You read while he rested his head back, eyes closed, breathing steady. Not asleep, just… still. Like he was giving himself permission to stop moving for once.

After a while, he spoke. “I told Heeseung I was hanging out with someone.”

You turned a page. “You told him it was me?”

Jake smirked faintly, eyes still shut. “No. I told him I was ‘seeing someone who likes their eggs too dry and their coffee too sweet.’ He figured it out.”

You nudged his knee with yours. “Rude.”

He hummed. “You like your coffee sweet.”

“Not that sweet.”

He opened one eye and looked at you. “Okay. But the eggs part was accurate.”

You bit back a smile, lowering your book. “So… you’ve told people.”

“Just him. And Sunghoon maybe suspects something.”

“Are you going to tell him you spend every night at a diner girl’s apartment in flannel pajamas?”

“I don’t spend every night,” he said, grinning now.

You arched a brow.

“…Okay, most nights,” he admitted.

You let the silence fill the space again. Not heavy, not awkward. Just comfortable. Like music that didn’t need to be played out loud.

Neither of you had called this anything.

Not dating. Not not-dating.

But the space between you had changed. No more pretending. No more hiding behind masks and diner counters and clever banter. Just late nights, burnt eggs, bruised bodies healing slowly, and the occasional forehead touch when words felt too big.

And every time the window opened, so did something else.

The rain starts around midnight.

Not a storm, not quite — just a steady, silver hiss outside your window, soft against the glass, soft against the fire escape. The kind of rain that makes everything quieter. Slower. Softer.

You’re already in your pajamas — a threadbare tee and sleep shorts — when the knock comes. Not on your door, but rather on the glass.

You don’t flinch anymore.

You cross the room barefoot, your toes brushing against the cold hardwood, and pull the curtain aside.

He’s there.

Jake.

Not in the suit. Not this time. Just a hoodie and jeans, both slightly damp. His hair is wet too, clinging to his forehead, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets like maybe this wasn’t planned. Like maybe he didn’t know he’d come here tonight but somehow ended up here anyway.

You open the window without a word.

He ducks inside, movements quiet, careful not to drip too much on your rug.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, like the rain outside.

“Hey,” you say back.

No explanation. None needed.

You hand him a towel from the bathroom. He pulls it over his head and ruffles his hair while you move toward the kitchen.

“I was going to make grilled cheese,” you offer, like he’s just any friend stopping by and not the boy who bled on your couch last week.

He perks up. “With tomato soup?”

You glance over your shoulder, lips curving. “Do I look like I have tomato soup just lying around?”

“…Yes?”

You snort. “You’re in luck.”

He smiles, the warm, quiet kind he only gives you now. Like he’s finally stopped waiting for you to shove him away.

Ten minutes later, the soup is bubbling, and the smell of butter and cheese fills the apartment. He’s leaning against your counter, damp towel draped over his shoulder, watching you slice bread like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You always make that face when you’re concentrating,” he murmurs.

“What face?”

“That one,” he says, pointing at your mouth. “The pouty one.”

You swat a dish towel at him. “Shut up and go set the table.”

It’s not even a real table — just the low coffee table in front of your couch — but he does it anyway. Two bowls. Two mismatched mugs of water. He even lights the small vanilla candle you forgot you left there.

You sit beside him, the grilled cheese warm in your hands, the soup steaming gently between you.

He dips his sandwich first. You watch the way his eyes flutter closed when he takes a bite.

“I’d die for this,” he says dramatically.

“You almost did.”

He opens one eye.

“…Fair.”

You both laugh — soft, sleepy laughter that settles between you like a blanket. The food disappears slowly. Not because you’re distracted, but because you’re both enjoying the silence. The nearness.

You take his plate when he’s done.

He follows you into the kitchen, trailing a little too close behind, fingertips grazing the small of your back. Not obvious. Not urgent. Just… there.

You wash. He dries.

At some point, you both end up in your room — not rushed, not planned. It just happens.

He lies down first, facing the window. You crawl in behind him.

Your knees press into the backs of his. Your hand slips into the space between his shoulder blades. Your forehead rests against his spine like it belongs there.

“Stay?” you whisper.

His answer is immediate. “Always.”

And in the quiet hush of rain and candlelight, you fall asleep like that.

You woke up to buzzing.

Not the lazy kind. Not the 7:00 a.m. alarm you always snoozed or the “we’re out of eggs again” group chat from Sophia and Chaewon.

No — this was frantic buzzing.

Back-to-back notifications hammering your phone like someone set the internet on fire.

You rubbed sleep from your eyes and grabbed the phone from under your pillow. The screen was lit up with texts. Mentions. Twitter screenshots. Names you didn’t recognize. And one group chat name you did.

[Chaewon 🪩]

GIRL.

GO.

LOOK.

RIGHT. NOW.

You’re viral.

Your heart skipped.

The first post you opened was blurry — pixelated and shot from below — but unmistakable.

A streetlamp. The shape of Spider-Man crouched on the edge of a fire escape. His mask pushed halfway up, just enough to show his jaw. His hand reaching down.

And you.

The photo wasn’t clear enough to catch your face fully, but it was you. You knew it. The diner uniform. The hair. The way you tilted your head when you were trying not to smile.

You knew the moment.

Last week. You’d been locking up the diner. He’d dropped down from the roof like always, dramatic and a little smug. You told him to stop scaring you like that, and he laughed.

He kissed you before vanishing again, slipping between buildings like smoke.

And now it was everywhere.

“SPIDER-MAN SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY GIRL — COULD IT BE LOVE?”

“Brooklyn’s Friendly Neighborhood Hero Might Be Taken 👀”

“Who Is Spider-Man’s Real Life MJ?”

You dropped the phone.

It hit the comforter with a dull thud, and your stomach followed.

The knock on your window came less than five minutes later.

You didn’t open it right away.

Jake knocked again, this time gentler. You could see him through the curtain — no mask, just a hoodie pulled low over his brow, eyes anxious even from this distance.

You opened the window.

He stepped inside, quiet. Careful.

“They got a photo,” you said before he could even speak.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know.”

“I didn’t even see anyone. How—”

“I don’t know. Someone probably lives in that building. It was… stupid of me to do that there. I wasn’t thinking.”

You didn’t answer.

“I never wanted this to touch you,” he said, voice low. “I’ve kept my identity hidden for this long for a reason. Not for me. For people around me. For people like you.”

“But now it has,” you said, words falling heavy between you.

He looked up at you, eyes dark and threaded with guilt. “We can shut it down. Deny it. Say it wasn’t you.”

You almost laughed. “Jake, I was wearing my name tag.”

He flinched.

You stepped back, away from the window, arms folding tight over your chest.

He followed, just far enough to keep the space between you soft but careful.

“They don’t know your name. They won’t find your apartment. I’ll keep you safe,” he said.

And maybe he believed that. Maybe he could fight off half of Brooklyn’s crime ring and swing through fires and save kids from collapsing buildings.

But this?

This was different.

This was people watching.

Talking.

Wanting something from the both of you.

You looked at him — this boy you’d held while he bled, this boy you fed soup in silence, this boy who looked at you like he already knew how you tasted when you laughed.

“I don’t want to be your headline,” you whispered.

Jake swallowed, stepping closer, close enough to lower his voice.

“Then let me be yours.”

You blinked.

“I don’t care if the city knows. I don’t care if they guess. I care that you don’t run.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

“I won’t run,” you said finally. “But I don’t want to be someone’s theory or some TikTok guessing game.”

He nodded. “Then we don’t give them anything. We keep it how it’s been. Quiet. Ours.”

You looked at him.

And slowly, you nodded back.

Still not dating or defined, but something real and even now — especially now — worth protecting.

The diner was already buzzing when you walked in.

Not busy. Just buzzing. Like the air itself had caught wind of something and couldn’t stop humming about it.

Sophia looked up from where she was leaning over the counter, scrolling on her phone with a smirk already tugging at her lips.

“Well, well, if it isn’t New York’s most mysterious love interest,” she said.

Chaewon popped her head up from the pastry display. “Are we still pretending you don’t know Spider-Man?”

You froze halfway to the break room, then let your shoulders fall with a practiced sigh.

“Guys.”

“No, no, don’t ‘guys’ us,” Chaewon said, rounding the counter and pulling you by the elbow. “We gave you weeks. We gave you space. But now you’re literally a trending topic.”

Sophia held up her phone screen. Your face, blurry and tilted, next to Spider-Man’s unmistakable red-and-blue suit, was on every gossip account in New York. #SpiderBae was trending.

“You look cute,” Sophia added. “Also terrified.”

“I was terrified,” you muttered. “He dropped out of the sky like a vampire. It was dark.”

Chaewon narrowed her eyes. “That’s not a denial.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Then opened it once more just to say, “We’re not dating.”

“But you know him,” Sophia said.

You hesitated. “I know… a version of him.”

Chaewon gave you a look. “So you are his Pepper to your Tony.”

“I am nobody’s Pepper,” you said, sliding into the break room before they could follow.

They didn’t push it. Not yet. But you knew this wasn’t going away.

By noon, five customers had commented on how much you “looked like that girl.” One even asked for a selfie “just in case.” You laughed it off. Smiled through it. But the back of your neck stayed warm the whole time.

And then the door chimed.

You were pouring coffee, distracted, half-listening to Sophia hum a Taylor Swift song behind you, when you turned — and froze.

Jake.

Not Spider-Man.

Not swinging in.

Not masked.

Just Jake. In a gray hoodie, jeans, windblown hair, and a look on his face like he already regretted this.

Your breath hitched.

He met your eyes. Briefly. Softly.

Then sat at the counter like he belonged there.

Sophia blinked. “…Is that?”

Chaewon squinted. “That’s the guy who always orders cherry pie on Wednesdays.”

You nearly dropped the coffee pot.

You wiped your hands on your apron and walked over slowly, heart hammering.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, low enough that no one else could hear.

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “You always talk about how good the soup is.”

Your eyes searched his. “Jake—”

“I used the front door,” he said. “I thought maybe it was time I stopped hiding.”

You stared at him. At the quiet bravery in that sentence.

“Okay,” you said. Then, gently: “Don’t look too heroic while you eat. Someone might take a picture.”

He grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

You walked away.

And when Sophia and Chaewon cornered you in the kitchen three minutes later, you didn’t lie.

You just smiled. Shrugged.

“Okay,” you admitted. “He likes my eggs. I like his face. That’s it.”

Chaewon screamed. Sophia threw a napkin in the air like confetti.

And through the diner window, Jake lifted his spoon like a toast — just for you.

[ikeuwoniee]

big, bad boss | p. sunghoon

pairing: boss! sunghoon x fem. reader genre: smut, enemies to fwbs to (?) wc: 23k+ summary: You can handle Park Sunghoon’s insults, his impossible standards, even his hands all over you after hours. What you can’t handle? The possibility that the man you swore to never fall for might just be the only one you can’t let go of. content warnings: toxic sunghoon!! he’s so controlling in this but it’s hot so he gets a pass (from me). unprotected sex, public sex, angry sex, hate sex, desk sex, bathroom sex, basically ALL the sex lol. oral (fem receiving), fingering, use of sex toys, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of humiliation kink, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, slight dubcon (consensual but power-imbalanced). enemies-to-fwb-to-lovers. emotional constipation from literally everyone. cat mom reader & (eventually) cat dad sunghoon. brief pregnancy scare. pls do not look for healthy boundaries or communication in this fic, this is pure office filth. a bit of domestic vibes at the end. a/n: first sunghoon fic WHEW. this one’s been simmering for a while guys. literally came to me while watching the no doubt mv, i was like fawk he looks way too good in a suit… i need him in an office setting immediately. disclaimer: the way i write him here is absolutely not how i think he is irl. the only accurate thing is him being a neat freak lol. oh, and me calling him handsome 28473 times because… well, he is. anyways!! pls pls pls lmk what you think 🥺 and THANK YOU for all the love on my previous fic, the new follows, the asks—everything!!! *sends one million flying kisses through your screen*

Becoming important at a job you despise is… well, it’s definitely not a good feeling.

You're reminded of this unfortunate fact every single day at your corporate job, where even though the paycheck is attractive, you're constantly drowning under the immense pressure exerted by your jerk of a boss.

Park Sunghoon has exactly one redeeming quality and that is his stupidly handsome face. But everything else about him is so rotten, you can't even enjoy glancing at his perfect features without a bitter feeling pooling deep in your stomach, similar to the one you get moments before hurling.

You might be wondering what exactly he did to warrant this hatred. The better question would be, what hasn't he done? From your very first week, Sunghoon was a complete asshole who had you running to the bathroom in tears after he openly called your work "uninspired garbage" a "colossal waste of time," and even claimed that hiring someone so inexperienced was an insult to the company's standards.

Funnily enough, you managed to climb the ranks within just one year and found yourself working directly under him. Though you couldn't even celebrate your promotion because being closer to Sunghoon only multiplied your misery. It was safe to say your life was one big ball of stress thanks to him. 

So to cope you developed a rigorous self-care routine which consisted of pilates, drinking only decaffeinated beverages, attending overpriced meditation sessions, and even trying acupuncture.

But your favorite method to decompress involved channeling your frustrations toward the subject of all your afflictions. Sometimes that included taping his picture onto a punching bag and going absolutely feral.

Unfortunately (and embarrassingly) for you, not all your tension was purely angry…

Even if it hurt your soul to admit it your boss was exactly your type physically. Like, why the hell was he always scowling when he literally had the face of an angel? Really, nobody could blame you if your pent-up anger occasionally morphed into sexual frustration.

And yeah, you dealt with that too. Usually with your hands…and your collection of sex toys.

Which was exactly why you found yourself standing awkwardly in a discreet adult shop tucked away in the wealthier part of the city. You chose it because it was the farthest possible distance from your neighborhood, drastically reducing the chance of running into any nosy neighbors.

You shuffled curiously through the aisles, giggling at the sheer size of some toys. A few of them even had the word “monster” in the labels.

You currently had one of those ridiculous monster dildos in your hand wondering how anyone could possibly fit something like that inside them. You briefly considered taking it home, purely for research purposes, of course.

Just as you were inspecting the absurdly graphic details printed on the toy's box, someone stepped next to you way closer than necessary. Who stood this close to someone while browsing monster-sized dildos?

Giving them a subtle side glance, you realized it was a man. Tall enough that you could barely see beyond his chin without obviously staring. A black mask covered most of his face, obscuring his identity. You cleared your throat uncomfortably and walked away, an odd feeling tingling along your spine from the stranger's presence.

You browsed for a little while longer before deciding on just two items—the ridiculously gigantic dildo and a discreet rose toy. As you joined the checkout line, you noticed there was only one other person ahead of you, but unfortunately, she seemed to be having trouble with her card so it was taking a while.

The stranger from earlier joined the line directly behind you, making you sigh in irritation. Just your luck.

Your skin prickled uncomfortably as he stepped even closer, despite the line clearly not moving. Right. Your therapist had repeatedly emphasized setting clear boundaries, something you admittedly weren’t great at. Now seemed like a perfect time to practice that.

You turned abruptly, nostrils flaring with barely concealed anger. “Excuse me,” you snapped, emphasizing every syllable. “Have you never heard of personal space? You’re standing way too close, so if you could kindly step back, that would be great.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering downward to the giant dildo box you were still clutching tightly, then back up to your face as you tapped your foot impatiently. A soft snort escaped him. Was he mocking you?!

“Back off, jerk” you hissed the insult through gritted teeth before turning your back to him again.

“I can’t believe the first time you decide to stand up for yourself is in a sex shop.”

Do you know that dreadful feeling that washes over you right before disaster strikes?

That was exactly how you felt when you recognized that voice. A voice belonging to none other than your daily tormentor.

Slowly, you turned around again. He’d pulled his mask down and pushed his cap up, fully revealing his unfairly attractive face. A slight smile graced his lips, probably the first genuine smile you'd ever seen from him in the entire miserable year you'd known Park Sunghoon.

“Fucking hell…” you whispered, eyes growing to the size of saucers, knees feeling dangerously weak.

Your fight-or-flight instincts chose precisely that moment to kick in, and you reacted in possibly the worst way imaginable: you bolted. Unfortunately, you bolted with both unpaid items still in your hands.

You didn’t even realize your mistake until you were sitting in your car, chest heaving, heart hammering so hard you could hear it in your head. Panic clawed up your throat when you saw the items still clutched in your hand. With a strangled cry, you tossed the incriminating bag out your car window and drove away at breakneck speed, half-expecting sirens at any second.

Seriously, what were the odds of bumping into your boss at a sex you shop?!

The next morning you dragged yourself reluctantly into your workplace, looking as close to a corpse as humanly possible. You hadn’t slept at all, spending the entire night drafting your resignation letter. Forty different versions until you decided on one that didn’t seem too much like trauma dumping.

You had a million reasons to quit already, but after the mortifying nightmare of Sunghoon catching you holding a monster dildo box at a sex shop and calling him a jerk? Yeah, that one topped the list. 

Maybe this was just the universe finally screaming at you to do better for yourself.

Still, dread knotted in your stomach at the thought of suddenly being unemployed. Fucking Park Sunghoon… Did he ever get tired of ruining your life?

Your coworkers greeted you warmly as you walked past them, but several quickly stepped aside after seeing your vacant stare and pale complexion. You overheard hushed whispers: "Is she okay?" "She looks terrible”. You ignored them all.

Once you reached your boss’s office door, you paused, noticing how your hand trembled as you raised it to knock. Taking a shaky breath, you rapped twice.

“Come in,” he called, and you pushed open the door, wincing at its squeak. Had it always been that loud? Well, you wouldn't really know since you immediately dissociated every time you entered this office.

His dark eyes flickered upward, flashing briefly before he returned his attention to the files on his desk. “I hope that’s the corrected version of last week's report in your hand,” he said, pushing up his reading glasses.

God, why did he have to look so attractive in those stupid glasses? You wished he’d wear them more often, preferably in situations other than berating you. Shit—those sleepless nights must’ve fried your brain. You should feel nothing but deep, burning hatred toward this man right now. He was actively ruining your life!

“Erm…no. It’s actually—” You stepped forward hesitantly and placed the letter on his desk, sliding it towards him as if feeding a hungry lion, then stepping quickly away.

“A resignation letter?” he questioned impassively, picking up the envelope and glancing at your shaky handwriting on the envelope. There were definitely a few tear stains visible on the surface.

“Yes, sir. And I wanted to apologize sincerely for yesterday. It was extremely inappropriate of me. There are other reasons, too… they’re all listed in there.” Your voice practically died in your throat under his intense stare.

He sighed deeply and set the letter down without bothering to open it. “Y/N, can I be frank with you?” he started and you braced yourself. 

“You’re too stubborn, impulsive most of the time, overly emotional, defensive—”

Your jaw dropped open, ready to protest, but he held up a hand silencing you before you even started.

“But you’re also one of the hardest workers on this floor. You bring fresh ideas, you’re meticulous to a fault, you push the team to improve. A perfectionist like me… exactly what this company values.”

“If this is your way of convincing me to stay—”

“I’m not finished,” he interrupted sharply. “You’re all those things, sure. But one thing I never took you for was a coward.”

Your entire body went rigid with rage and it ignited so fast in your chest you could not stop the next words from coming out. “I am not a coward. I'm finally putting myself first! Do you honestly think you can say all those horrible things about me and then smooth it over with a couple of generic compliments? That’s not how this works! From day one you’ve made it your personal mission to make my work life miserable! And don’t even try feeding me some bullshit about seeing potential or trying to build my character or whatever ‘tough love’ corporate crap you're about to spew, because I won’t believe it for a second!”

You were shouting now, pretty sure everyone outside could probably hear you, but you’d reached a point beyond caring.

“And while we’re busy listing adjectives for each other,” you continued breathlessly, “let me tell you exactly what you are! You’re the most self-centered, sociopathic, egomaniacal, narcissistic, emotionally constipated, manipulative, control freak bastard I’ve ever known! I’m quitting because of you. I can't stand being here another second, because I can’t stand you!”

You stood there, chest heaving, waiting to see what the devil in designer glasses would do next.

His expression stayed maddeningly neutral until the faintest curl ghosted across his mouth. A smile? Why on earth was Park Sunghoon smiling? Had he finally lost it? Or had you? Because that was definitely a smirk, and now he was rising from his chair, closing the distance between you.

A million panic-scenarios flashed through your head. Maybe he just wanted to yell at you up close. Maybe he planned to throttle you on the spot. Murderer wasn’t even on the list of insults you’d hurled at him but—

“There she is,” he murmured darkly. “The pretty thing I saw in the sex shop. For a moment I doubted it was you… someone with that much fire, that much backbone. But here you are again.”

He stopped so close you could pick out the mint on his breath under the expensive cologne. Your brain was so scrambled you could do nothing but count every mole on his flawless skin, and notice the fact that he didn’t appear to have a single visible pore. What in the fresh hell was happening?

“Language,” he chided softly, apparently you’d spoken your confusion aloud. “Just because I let you scream at me doesn’t mean you can use whatever words you like.”

Warmth flooded your skin, and your tongue stuck to the roof of your dry mouth. What was this weird sensation? It felt as if you’d wandered into a dream, standing bare in a cage with a lion prowling around you. Sunghoon’s gaze was fiercer than ever.

“Uhm… I don’t understand—”

“Let me clarify.” His voice dropped into a velvety tone. “I won’t claim I never meant those things I said, but they weren’t out of malice. If anything, I wanted to see how far you could go before you stopped playing nice.”

You walked back into the wall and he followed, not touching yet but close enough that his body heat curled around you. “Don’t shrink back now,” he whispered. “Show me what that sharp little mouth can do.”

Your lips parted in indignation only for his grin to widen, stealing the breath and every comeback right out of you. He had perfectly straight teeth and unnervingly sharp canines. They were almost vampiric. Was your boss a vampire? That would explain why working for him felt like being bled dry day after day.

But right now, as those midnight eyes pinned you in place, the only thing you knew for sure was that you were in far deeper than any resignation letter could fix. 

And then all those swirling thoughts in your head stopped because he kissed you, brutally hard, swallowing your gasp of shock. His hand tangled roughly in your hair, tipping your head back until you were at his mercy.

His mouth trailed hot kisses across the soft skin of your neck, you bit your lip if only to try to contain the whimpers that were threatening to spill out of you. His sharp canines sunk softly into your skin and he sucked the spot after in almost a soothing manner.

It felt as though you’d lost your job, your mind, and apparently your self-respect—but fuck if you didn’t suddenly feel alive for the first time in months.

When he kissed you again it turned savage quick, all the pent-up frustration, a year’s worth of anger and denial spilling out in the space of a few ragged breaths. 

Sunghoon’s hands found your waist, gripping you hard enough to bruise. With barely a grunt as warning, he shoved you back until you collided with the desk, your palms splaying behind you for balance.

He crowded in, not giving you a second to reconsider. It was as if he could sense your hesitation and didn’t plan on letting you recover it. Your thighs hit the edge of the desk and he pinned you there, the solid line of his body fitting between your legs as he bent to nip your jaw, then your throat again, his breath hot and wild against your skin.

“Still want to quit?” he murmured, hands already hiking your skirt. “Or are you going to admit you need this as much as I do?”

Your laugh came out shaky. “I’d rather beg for anything but this job, asshole—”

He cut you off pushing your underwear aside and slipping a finger inside, harder than you expected, and so skilled it almost made you cry. Your hips jerked up helplessly, humiliation and need mixing into something molten.

“That’s right,” Sunghoon growled. “You love this, don’t you? Making a mess all over my fingers, desperate to be fucked by your boss. Never thought you’d be such a needy little thing.”

You hated how your body responded to every filthy word. His thumb circled your clit mercilessly and you gasped. “You should see yourself, whimpering on my desk,” he taunted. “I bet that monster dildo you picked out was just wishful thinking… thinking about getting filled up, stretched out, but you wanted the real thing, didn’t you?”

You managed a glare, but it drifted down when he started undoing his belt and freeing himself. The sight of his cock made your mouth go dry. He was big. Intimidatingly so. There was a split second of panic in your eyes, and he saw it, smirking as he lined himself up with you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance. “Are you scared? You can still run to HR and tell them about your big, bad boss. Or you can stay right here and take every fucking inch like a good girl.”

When he saw you had no intention of stopping him, he pushed in slowly and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, hips flush with yours. The stretch was dizzying, almost too much, but your body greedily tried to take more, clenching around him.

“Shit—so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice breaking a little, grip bruising on your hips. “You’re gonna have to loosen up a bit, baby. I can’t move.”

Your walls we’re hugging him so hard he got scared he’d get stuck in there for a second (Nof that it would be such a bad thing). But then you relaxed as you got used to his size and he started moving slowly.

You whimpered, nails digging into the wood. “God, Sunghoon…” 

“Yeah, moan my name just like that,” he rasped, snapping his hips forward and pulling back only to slam in deeper. “You want everyone out there to know who’s fucking you stupid?”

Every word had you spiraling, your body burning, arching to meet his thrusts. The filthy rush of his dominance, the grip of his hands, the way he bent you back over his desk and took what he wanted—every bit of it broke down your defenses. He leaned over you, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered. “You don’t come until I tell you, got it?”

You nodded, barely coherent. All the nerves in your body lit up from the pressure and the brutal rhythm of his cock slamming into you. He pushed harder, deeper, and relentlessly.

“You’re mine now,” he snarled, biting at your throat. “My dirty little office slut, letting your boss fuck you on his desk because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Y—yes,” you gasped, broken and burning for him.

“That’s right. Cum for me, right now. Show me how much you need it.”

As you fell apart, trembling and ruined against his desk, you realized you’d never let anyone talk to you like this—but god, you liked it when he did.

So, you didn’t quit. 

Instead, you trudged back into the office the next morning. Sore in places you’d rather not recall and wishing you could blot out yesterday’s debauchery from your body with industrial-grade bleach.

Things honestly couldn’t have gone worse. You’d marched into Sunghoon’s office to let out a year’s worth of grievances, and sure, you’d “let it all out”… just not in the way you’d planned. 

He still refused to accept your resignation, and there was zero chance you were marching to HR after engaging in the world’s most ridiculous office affair. Everyone knows the employee with less power always gets burned, and you were not leaving without your full paycheck.

Waiting for the elevator, you opened your phone’s camera, angling your neck to check the damage. Not even half a bottle of foundation could fully cover the vampire bites Sunghoon had branded you with. 

You dabbed your skin one last time before the elevator dinged and, as if conjured by your anxiety, in walked the devil himself.

“Good morning,” he said, and it took genuine effort not to flinch under his gaze.

“Uh, morning,” you muttered, pressing yourself into the farthest corner of the elevator, doing your best to look small and invisible.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, voice casual. If you weren’t so on edge, you’d have given him the side-eye. Since when did the man who regularly worked you into exhaustion care about your rest?

“As well as I could manage,” you replied, lips pressed tight.

“Hmm. I did go a little rough on you yesterday.” He said it as if he was apologizing for a harsh tennis match, not for nearly rearranging your insides.

A dust mote or possibly your own panic got lodged in your throat, and you started coughing. It took you a few seconds to recover and all you could manage was a hoarse “Let’s not speak of that ever again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not dying to have the office know about our little secret either.”

Of course he was an ass about it. You rolled your eyes. “You think I am? For the record, I tried to quit. But no, Mr. Spoiled Sunghoon has to get his way, as always!”

He turned fully toward you, blocking the doors with that broad frame. “You’re calling me spoiled when you’re throwing a fit like this? And, for the record, I was about to suggest we find someplace more private to continue our… business instead.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he seriously proposing you keep fucking but just in a different…  location?

“You’ve misunderstood. I have no intention of continuing anything with you except maybe a more professional work relationship.”

He laughed a humorless laugh that skimmed your nerves raw. “You don’t believe that even a little.”

“Why do you have to fight me on every single thing? Does it give you some twisted satisfaction to see me pissed off?”

He flashed a wolfish smile. “Surprisingly, yes. But I found out yesterday that it’s even more satisfying seeing you come all over my co—”

The elevator doors suddenly slid open, saving you from whatever depravity he was about to say. You practically leapt to the other side so dramatically you had to fake a leg cramp to explain your awkward movement to the coworker stepping in. The newcomer eyed you curiously but said nothing, thank god.

You caught Sunghoon’s reflection in the elevator’s polished wall and he was clearly biting back a laugh, enjoying every second of your mortification.

When you arrived at your desk—flustered, anxious, and already mentally exhausted—you actually clasped your hands under the desk and prayed. Please let today pass without incident. Please let Park Sunghoon forget I exist for once in his damn life.

Realistically, he only called you into his office once or twice a week. Usually to nitpick your reports or assign corrections. And you figured he was smart enough to want to maintain at least the illusion of normalcy, which meant keeping that routine.

Naturally, you thought wrong.

Because barely fifteen minutes had passed before you saw your desk phone light up with a call from his extension.

You stared at it in silent horror, briefly considering smashing your forehead into the stapler. A workplace injury would be a valid excuse to leave early, right?

…For any normal boss, sure. But Sunghoon wasn’t a normal boss. He was a sadistic egomaniac who unfortunately had the dick to back up a portion of his arrogance.

Just then, your coworker Mina strolled by and smiled sweetly, clearly unaware that you were on the verge of losing your mind. You latched onto her like a lifeline.

“Mina! Can you help me with something?”

“Sure, what is it?” she asked, stepping closer.

You grabbed the offending stack of papers. “Can you take these reports to Mr. Park for me?” you offered her a smile hoping she wouldn’t question you. 

She blinked, a little confused. “Sure… but why?”

Fucking hell. “Oh, it’s just—I really need to use the bathroom, like, right now. Could you just drop them off for me?” The bathroom excuse was foolproof. No one argues with that.

“Oh, okay! But couldn’t you take it after?”

Why was she asking so many questions? Just take the goddamn file and save your doomed coworker from her crazy boss.

Your smile widened so unnaturally it probably triggered a horror response in her brain. Mina’s own smile faltered slightly in concern.

“I’m only saying that because you know how he gets with the reports… He’ll probably want to talk to you about it.”

Right. Like you didn’t already know that.

“I know! It’s just…” fuck it, being honest might make her feel bad for you. “I don’t want to deal with his berating right now.” You sighed.

She hesitated but then smiled in solidarity “I get it. He scares me a bit too. I'll bring them to him and say you needed the bathroom urgently.” 

Victory.

“Thank you so much, Mina! I owe you one.”

To commit to the bit, you stood up and headed toward the bathrooms, waiting just around the corner. You peeked out from behind a pillar and watched her step into Sunghoon’s office. Sorry for sending you into the lion’s den, Mina.

After five strategically-timed minutes in the bathroom, you returned to your desk and sat for three whole minutes before your phone rang again.

You saw the caller ID and instantly considered throwing yourself out the nearest window.

“Hel—”

“Come into my office. Now.”

The finality in his tone snapped any last thread of avoidance you were clinging to. You sighed, mentally braced for the gallows walk, and made your way to his office.

“You wanted me?” you asked coldly, sticking your head in and trying very hard not to look at the desk you’d been thoroughly fucked on yesterday.

“Come in,” he said, without looking up. “And close the door.”

You swallowed hard.

Closing the door meant isolation. No witnesses. Just you and him. And judging by the tone in his voice, you knew this wasn’t going to be a normal work talk. Hell, it probably wasn’t going to be a talk at all.

“I’m actually very busy right now, so—”

“Are you?” His voice was soft but cutting. “I doubt hiding out in the bathroom counts as a busy task.”

You shot him a look. Was he spying on you? “How did you even know?”

“Ms. Myoi isn’t exactly subtle,” he replied, almost smirking. “Next time, pick someone with a better poker face.”

“You got the files, so what’s the problem?” You tried to keep your tone firm, but your nerves were showing.

He stood up so quickly you barely had time to react. Every instinct screamed for you to bolt, but instead, you froze as his long fingers curled gently but firmly around your forearm, tugging you in closer. With his other hand, he closed the door behind you and turned the lock.

“I think you’re under the impression that, after what happened yesterday… You know, me stuffing you full of my cock and all… that you can talk to me however you please.” His tone was low and dangerous. “But you’re mistaken. I’m still your boss, and while you’re here, you’re going to show me respect.”

You hated the way he was speaking to you, hated even more the way his hand was now gliding up your arm, fingers brushing lightly around your throat and up to the sensitive nape of your neck.

“This is a total abuse of power,” you managed. “You can’t just summon me in here and expect me to drop everything because you think I’ll be easy for you. I’m not here to satisfy your needs. I’m here to work. And if that’s not what you want, let me go.”

He chuckled, the hand at your neck stroking slow circles against your skin. “Did you really think I called you in for anything other than work?” His tone was almost playful, clearly amused by your suggestion.

“I told you I wasn’t planning to do that again,” he added, his eyes flickering down your body with an infuriating amount of calm. “Not here, at least.”

Your chin lifted defiantly, meeting his gaze head-on. “What makes you think I’d want to do it again anywhere?” 

“Because you loved it. You took my cock like it was the best thing that had ever happened to you. And right now…” He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re pressing your thighs together just from hearing me talk about it.”

Your whole body flushed—because fuck him, you were.

His hand tightened ever so slightly at your nape. “You can lie with that mouth all you want,” he murmured, “but your body? Your body doesn’t lie to me. It wants me. Still.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath turning embarrassingly shaky. Sunghoon saw your hesitation, your silent surrender, and smiled a  slow, arrogant smirk that sent a thrill straight down your spine.

He leaned closer, lips brushing lightly against your ear as he spoke in a whisper. “You know what your problem is? You talk so much, but the second I touch you…” his fingertips traced trails from your nape down your spine “you fall apart so beautifully. Yesterday you were practically begging me.”

“I—I wasn’t begging,” you lied weakly, breath hitching as his fingers slipped underneath the edge of your collar, stroking softly across your collarbone. 

“Really?” he murmured. “Because I distinctly remember how loud you were” his voice dipped into something darker, hotter. “Do you remember how tightly you clenched around me when I told you exactly what a good little slut you were being for your boss?”

You swallowed a whimper, shame and lust tightening your throat. His other hand cupped your jaw gently, thumb brushing your lower lip as he tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You liked that, didn’t you? Liked taking every inch of me right here in my office,” he said quietly. “I bet you spent all night replaying it, wishing I was there to do it again. And again. And again.”

Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as his thumb stroked across your lip again, gently pressing just enough to part them. You were utterly pliant, melting like wax under his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured softly, eyes glinting with triumph. “So responsive. Just my voice, my fingers on your skin, and you’re trembling already.” He leaned in. “I wonder how much more desperate I could make you.”

You couldn’t even pretend anymore. Your body was begging him silently. He drew back just slightly, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips as he took in your flushed expression.

“Meet me during your lunch break,” he ordered quietly, pulling away enough to restore a cruel semblance of professionalism. “Don’t be late. You know I’m not patient.”

Your cheeks burned hotly at the implication, even as a thrill raced through you. You nodded weakly, knowing there was no chance you’d refuse.

You counted down the hours to lunch with embarrassing anticipation, barely getting any work done. Not only was Park Sunghoon living rent-free in your head, he was now actively sabotaging your productivity. Ugh. How could hate and want coexist so aggressively? It was unnatural.

Finally, when the clock struck 1PM, you all but leapt out of your seat only to force yourself to sit right back down after realizing how eager you looked. Get a grip.

Just as you were trying to muster the courage to casually make your exit, your phone buzzed with a text from him:

Sunghoon: Change of plans. Meet me at the parking lot.

You stared at the message, scoffing. Really? He was going to make you walk all the way downstairs just to get railed in the backseat of his car?

You grumbled under your breath the entire way down to the parking lot, texting him as soon as you arrived: Which one’s your car?

You really should’ve known.

A black Mercedes-Benz—the newest model, naturally—rolled up and parked directly in front of you. The door popped open automatically, and there he was with sunglasses on, one arm draped lazily over the wheel, and a small tilt of his chin beckoning you inside like he was some villain in a K-drama.

You rolled your eyes but got in anyway.

“Why didn’t you bring your bag?” he asked immediately, not even sparing you a glance.

“I have my wallet in my phone case. I don’t need anything else.”

“I’ll have one of the staff bring it to my place later.”

“Your place?!” You sat upright, the seatbelt snapping back loudly as you turned to him.

He didn’t even glance over. “Where did you think we were going?”

“To eat lunch? I mean, I’m actually hungry,” you insisted, only half lying. You knew where this was heading, but you refused to seem too eager.

He sighed as if you were an unexpected challenge in his otherwise perfectly curated day. “Either way, you’re not coming back in today. I’ll have your bag delivered. So, where do you want to eat?”

“Wait a second. What do you mean I’m not coming back? My shift isn’t over. I have work to do!”

He gave you a look, one thick brow raised behind his sunglasses. “Yeah, work I assigned you. Which means I can unassign it just as easily. Strap in.”

“Sunghoon, this is… ridiculous! You can’t just kidnap me from work just because you’re my boss!”

He smirked. “I definitely can.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” you grumbled, finally buckling your seatbelt with as much attitude as you could manage.

“I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. You’re getting out early, still getting paid for the full shift, and you’ll be thoroughly taken care of.” He glanced at you. “I’d think you’d be thanking me.”

“Of course you don’t see the problem,” you muttered, turning to scowl out the window. “Whatever. Just drive.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. The engine purred back to life, and you tried not to focus on the fact that you were skipping work to go God knows where with your arrogant, dangerously hot boss to get possibly (likely) fucked into tomorrow.

The car ride started in a silence that felt too heavy for two people who’d literally had sex on a desk 24 hours ago. You stared out the window, arms crossed, trying not to seem too aware of how expensive everything in this car felt. The leather, the tech, even the damn smell… it all screamed money. 

“Alright,” he said eventually, “how do you feel about that new French-Japanese fusion place in uptown?”

“Fusion? Uptown? That sounds like a two hour meal and three digit prices.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “So?”

“So,” you said, turning to look at him, “I said I’m hungry. I’m not trying to sit through seven courses of foam and edible flowers.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “What do you suggest, then?”

You thought for half a second. “We could hit that little spot near the office. You know, the one with the best kimchi fried rice—”

“No.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m not taking you somewhere that has a laminated menu and plastic chairs.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re such a snob.”

“And you have the palate of a college student.”

You gaped at him. “You know what? Maybe I do want to eat something cheap and greasy. You ever think that maybe not all of us grew up eating imported truffle oil on toast?”

He chuckled. “Why are you making it sound like a crime to want something nice?”

“Because you think nice has to mean expensive.”

He didn’t reply right away, just turned the corner smoothly. You could feel his gaze on you even though he was watching the road.

“Fine. I’ll make a deal with you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Go on.”

“I’ll let you pick where we eat this time, but next time, it’s my choice.”

Your stomach flipped at the implication of doing this again, but you refused to show it. “You’re assuming there’ll be a next time.”

Sunghoon smirked. “There will.”

You turned back to the window with a huff, trying to hide your tiny smile. 

“Wait—turn right here. There’s a food truck fair in that parking lot!

There was a second of silence so loud it made you look back at him. Sunghoon slowly turned his head toward you, scandalized.

“You want me to eat in a parking lot?”

“Oh come on. It’s street food!”

“Do you have any idea how many food safety violations they probably have?”

“You think your caviar isn’t hiding mercury or something? Please.”

He gave you a look like you’d just suggested licking a subway pole. “We could catch anything from there.”

You laughed, genuinely. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You know there’s a reason the Michelin Guide doesn’t cover sketchy food trucks.”

“Just try the food, Sunghoon. I promise you won’t die from eating a greasy burger”

“Bold of you to assume that’s not exactly how my obituary would read,” he muttered, but he was already making the turn.

You smirked triumphantly. “Are you actually giving in?”

He sighed, the weight of compromise clearly hurting his soul. “I’m making a tactical concession to avoid hearing you complain the rest of the day.”

“That’s what I thought,” you said sweetly, already unbuckling your seatbelt.

“If I get food poisoning, I’m dragging you down with me.”

The food truck you chose specialized in Korean fusion, with spicy pork tacos, kimchi fries, and bulgogi rice bowls. It was the kind of place where napkins came in a metal dispenser and water was self-serve. Sunghoon looked deeply out of place with his lil crisp button-up still tucked, Rolex peeking under his cuff, and an expression like he was trying not to breathe too deeply.

“That man’s handling cash and tortillas without changing gloves.” He said, pointing at the guy working the front.

“That man,” you replied, swatting his finger down “is a hero bringing joy to the masses. Relax.”

You ordered tacos, ignoring Sunghoon’s skeptical gaze as you squeezed lime over the foil-wrapped mess. “Don’t tell me you’ve never eaten from a truck before.”

“I have,” he lied, studying the salsa bottles. “It just… isn’t usually my first choice.”

You picked a picnic table under an umbrella. Sunghoon pulled out a crisp linen handkerchief (of course he carried one) and wiped the bench before you could sit.

“Oh my God, you’re embarrassing me,” you laughed.

“Your immune system will thank me,” he said, unfolding it like a placemat. 

“Here. Try acting like the rest of us humans” you handed him a tray.

“There’s no cutlery…” He said, eyeing the tacos suspiciously.

“Obviously,” you said, already digging into yours. “You have to use your hands, Richie Rich.”

Sunghoon reluctantly picked one up and took a bite. His jaw worked slowly, expression unreadable. You waited for a complaint.

“One to ten, rate your $6 lunch.”

He hesitated, glancing at your happy expression. “Eight. And don’t let it go to your head.”

You gasped dramatically. “Is that approval? From Park Sunghoon? Should I alert the media?”

“I said don’t push it.” But the corner of his mouth twitched dangerously close to a smile.

As you sat across from each other, legs nearly brushing beneath the bench, the sun felt warmer, the breeze softer. For a moment, everything felt dangerously normal.

Until he leaned in and brushed his thumb across the corner of your mouth.

You froze. “What are you doing?”

“You had sauce.” He licked his thumb without breaking eye contact. “Don’t say I never take care of you.”

You stared, half-appalled. “You are literally why my therapist is booked solid.”

“Happy to keep her employed,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m sure you have plenty to discuss about how much you enjoy working under me.”

You snorted. “In what world would I admit that?”

He shrugged, tearing open a sauce packet with annoying elegance. “You already admitted it with your thighs yesterday.”

You kicked him lightly under the table. “You can’t say things like that in public.”

“No one’s listening,” he said, but his eyes hadn’t left your face once. He was watching you too closely.

You looked away, stabbing a fry. “So what is this supposed to be? Lunch and… whatever comes after?”

He leaned in slightly, forearms resting on the table. “You really think I’m that predictable?”

“Aren’t you?”

He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “If I was just here for that, I wouldn’t have bothered with lunch.”

“Then why did you?”

“Still figuring that out.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly conscious of how close you were. “Well, while you work on your revelation, I’m getting dessert.”

He stood smoothly. “Pick whatever you want.”

“Even the bubble waffles?” you teased.

“Get two. You’ll need the sugar.”

You blinked. “Why?”

Sunghoon just smiled.

“I thought you said getting into my pants wasn’t the plan today,” you continued, arms folding tightly across your chest.

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked unapologetically downward. “I just changed my mind. Your ass looks incredible in that skirt.”

The truth is, he barely noticed until now just how distracted he’d become simply from watching the way your skirt hugged your curves. It irritated him a bit, actually, that you could derail his thoughts so effortlessly.

You kind of figured things would end up at his place, but your appetite for anything besides food totally disappeared. Maybe it was the realization that you’d let yourself get sidetracked from work, and, weirdly enough, you actually liked just hanging out and eating with him. But if you had sex with him now, it’d just confirm that to him, you were just an easily accessible warm hole, nothing more.

You grimaced at your own thoughts and suddenly got angry at the fact that you were even here.

“Well, I'm sorry but Richard’s waiting for me, so I have to get home.”

His entire demeanor shifted instantly, shoulders tightening, the casual ease disappearing from his expression.

“And who the hell is Richard?”

A faint tension settled into his jaw. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, that’s what he told himself. It was simply the irritation of someone who disliked having his plans disrupted.

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“And your shift isn’t even over yet,” he added coldly, looking at his watch.

Your blood pressure spiked instantly. “You’re joking, right? Now my shift matters? Five minutes ago you were rearranging my entire day like it was your personal schedule.”

Sunghoon glared at you, his grip on the keys turning almost painful. He knew he was being petty, but he didn’t care. Especially with you dodging him like this.

“I just asked who Richard was, there’s no need to get so defensive.”

“Well, it’s none of your damn business.”

Your words were sharp enough to make his jaw clench. He let out a frustrated breath, telling himself not to say anything else that could possibly upset you more.

“Now you can take me home, or I’ll get a cab. Your choice.” you said, unyielding.

There was a stubborn silence before Sunghoon finally relented, unlocking the car with a curt click. Without another word, you both slid inside, any easiness from before completely gone.

“So what—” Sunghoon scoffed as he started the engine, eyes hardening with visible annoyance. “You can sleep with me but I can’t ask who you’re rushing home to?”

“Exactly, because we’re not anything, remember?”

The reply was blunt enough that even Sunghoon found himself momentarily at a loss for a comeback. That’s right, this was supposed to be a casual thing. So why did this suddenly feel so much more personal?

He didn’t care who you were seeing, really—he just didn’t appreciate surprises.

Nobody said another word the entire drive. You could practically hear every exhale he took through his nose as he maneuvered the Mercedes through traffic. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you unbuckled fast, eager to put distance between you.

“Thanks for the food,” you said curtly, fingers already on the door handle.

His gaze flicked over. “Sure.”

You stepped out, letting the door slam just to be petty. Sunghoon’s jaw flexed, his hands gripping the wheel harder. The Benz sped off with a throaty growl, and you resisted the urge to flip him off as the tail lights faded.

Upstairs, you kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the one thing that had been getting you through this godforsaken job for the last 13 months.

The punching bag.

It hung from the ceiling near your bookshelf, worn from frequent abuse. Centered at face level was a printout of Park Sunghoon’s corporate ID that you’d taped with scotch.

“You smug, insufferable bastard!” you shouted, kicking the bag so hard it swung wildly. “Acting like you own my schedule, my life, my goddamn—”

Thwack. A right hook.

“‘Who the hell is Richard?’ None of your business, that’s who!”

Thump. Left jab.

“Shift’s not over—my ass!”

You unleashed a rapid combo, each hit knocking the bag back with satisfying heft. Across the room, Richard, the mildly judgmental tabby who ruled your apartment with silent disdain blinked at you from his perch.

“See, Richie?” You kneed the bag for good measure. “This is why we can’t have nice things. Because men like Park Sunghoon exist.”

Richard only cocked his head, emitting a single meow and looking entirely unimpressed.

You landed one final kick then sagged against the bag, chest heaving. Richard hopped down, padded over, and brushed against your shin, purring as though to say drama over? snack time?

You blew out a breath, raking sweaty hair off your forehead. “Yeah, buddy. Snack time.” Anything to shift focus away from a certain arrogant boss whose expensive cologne you could still—annoyingly— smell on you.

Sunghoon drove back with one hand still tight on the wheel, the other tapping against the center console in a restless rhythm. His jaw hadn’t unclenched since you slammed the door on his car.

He wasn’t pissed. He just… didn’t like how the afternoon ended. You were supposed to come home with him. You were supposed to want to. 

Instead, you’d thrown some guy’s name in his face and got all defensive like he didn’t have a right to ask. Which was bullshit. You’d let him in once, and he was pretty sure you’d let him in again—hell, he knew you would—but the idea of someone else waiting for you? That didn't sit well for some reason.

Why were you being such a brat? You clearly liked the arrangement, otherwise, you wouldn’t have even let him take you out to lunch. He actually tried, you know? Tried not to make it seem like all he cared about was fucking you. Okay, sure, that was a big part of it—but he did want to get to know you too. And then you had to go and be with someone else? Fuck. He hated this… hated the bitter taste of being someone’s second choice.

You weren’t even dating and he didn’t have a right to ask you who you were seeing on the side. You’d said that yourself. Plus, he didn’t want to date anyway. He didn’t want something soft or complicated. He didn’t want to know what you liked for breakfast or listen to your problems or figure out what you meant when you said fine in a tone that clearly wasn’t.

He just wanted the control back. That’s all this was.

Because the second you said someone else was waiting for you, the balance tipped. And Park Sunghoon didn’t like losing his grip on anything—especially not something he already had in his hands.

He switched into the next lane with a bit more force than necessary, letting the tires roar for him. His thumb tightened on the wheel. Richard. Stupid fucking name. Sounded like a finance bro who wore boat shoes and called people “champ”

He didn’t care who Richard was. He just didn’t like the image of you choosing to go home to anyone else even if he didn’t want you for more than what you were.

Which he didn’t.

Obviously.

He was just annoyed.

Frustrated.

Hard again, if he was being honest.

With a low, irritable sigh, Sunghoon turned into the parking garage of his building and killed the engine. He sat there for a second, resting his head back against the seat with his eyes closed.

This was nothing. You were nothing.

But you had looked really fucking good storming away from him.

Sunghoon gave you space the next day. Not out of guilt but because he figured pushing after yesterday’s disaster would only make things worse. You were temperamental, stubborn as hell, and smart enough to know he was trying.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about you. Specifically, about the way those pencil skirts you paraded around made your legs and ass look fantastic. 

By the time Friday rolled around, he’d settled on a strategy: subtlety. A little distance, then a reappearance. Just enough to keep you guessing.

So after five o’clock, when most of the floor had already packed up, he left his office with every intention of catching you at your desk. You always stayed late on Fridays, getting the week's reports done so your Mondays weren’t hell. It was part of your routine, and he knew your routines well.

But when he stepped out, your desk was empty.

He glanced around but only one intern remained. Sunghoon walked over. The intern flinched and straightened instantly.

“Where is everyone?” Sunghoon asked calmly.

The intern blinked, clearly panicking under the pressure. “Uh… there’s a team dinner, sir. At that Kimchi place down the block… I think everyone from our department went.”

Sunghoon didn’t bother replying. He just turned on his heel and left.

The kimchi place was downright dismal. The smell of gochujang and sizzling pork could be smelled even from outside. All of Marketing-Finance Floor 23 seemed crammed into one corner.

As soon as Sunghoon entered the room the conversation  died. The only thing that could be heard was a nervous chorus of “Boss?” 

Sunghoon’s eyes locked on you first. On the hem of your skirt riding high on your crossed legs, your cheeks flushed from beer, and your smile collapsing into a flat line the moment you saw him. You were sitting at a corner table, a half-empty pitcher between you and some guy from Finance whose name Sunghoon didn’t even care to remember.

“Next round’s on me,” he announced, sliding his Amex to the sputtering waitress. This seemed to do the trick because the energy returned to the room accompanied by cheers.

Sunghoon moved toward your table.

“This table’s full.” You said immediately, cold but polite.

But before he could reply, one of the interns sprang up like an obedient golden retriever. “Oh, Mr. Park, you can take my seat!”

You smiled tightly at the intern as Sunghoon sat.

That’s when he noticed that the table was all males. And the one beside you was definitely flirting. Sunghoon vaguely recognized him. Sungchan, or something. The guy leaned in when you laughed at whatever he was saying, his hand dangerously close to your arm.

Sunghoon’s jaw ticked.

“Seems like you’re having a great time,” he said flatly, putting down his drink a little too firmly.

You didn’t even glance at him. “I was.”

“Hmm” he hummed, offering a hollow smile. “Didn’t realize this was such an… intimate team gathering.”

“That's usually how work dinners go.”

“Do you laugh like that with everyone you work with?” he asked coolly, eyes flicking to Sungchan, who was too immersed in conversation with another coworker to pay attention to you two.

“Do not start with this.” You glared.

“I’m just saying what I see.”

“No, you’re just pissed you’re not the center of attention.” You stood up abruptly. “Excuse me.”

Sunghoon didn’t give you a moment. He was right behind you as you slipped around the corner and into the women’s restroom. You barely caught your own reflection before his voice sounded at your back.

“Would Richard approve of you out this late, drinking with a bunch of guys?”

You shot him a deadly look in the mirror. “This is the ladies’ restroom. Get out.”

He leaned against the doorframe, clearly not planning on leaving. “I’m just asking. I’m guessing you two have some kind of open relationship.”

You spun to face him, jaw clenched. “Enough about Richard, already.”

He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves casually. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t really mind it that much anymore.”

Your brow furrowed. “What are you getting at?”

“That you’re taken.” His voice dropped a note. “I thought it would bother me. I don’t usually like sharing. But…”

He closed the distance, backing you up against the sink.

“I could make you forget all about him.”

You swallowed, eyes narrowing. “This is highly inappropriate.”

He stepped between your legs before you could sidestep, one hand pressing to the counter beside your hip.

“Inappropriate would be me fucking you right here,” he said calmly. “So I will fuck you in the stall instead…”

You stared up at him, furious that your heart was racing, furious that your body hadn’t caught up to your mind screaming walk away.

Instead, you took a fistful of his shirt and that’s all it took for the thread to snap. He grabbed your wrist and before you could say another word, he was guiding—no, manhandling—you toward the nearest stall.

You stumbled back into it, the door swinging shut behind you with a loud click. 

“You want to laugh with your little office boy toys, fine. But you know none of them will ever get you like this.” he said, already slipping his hand up under your skirt.

“You’re disgusting” you hissed, even as your thighs parted automatically. 

His smile was lazy, sharp canines appearing. “You like me like this.”

You rolled your eyes but the attitude was cut short when he hooked your underwear to the side and ran his fingers through the wetness he found there.

“Dripping,” he whispered. “All that show out there with that dumb accountant but you’re fucking soaked for me.”

“Are you jealous?” you managed, but your voice was already strangled by want.

“Jealous?” Sunghoon scoffed, his other hand unbuttoning your shirt. “I just hate seeing something I’ve ruined get played with by someone else.”

He flicked open the last button, shoving your shirt off your shoulders with barely a glance. Your bra was in the way for all of two seconds until he hooked a finger under the center and yanked it down.

“Pretty,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your nipple. For a second, he just looked at you, half-naked and panting against the wall. His hand trailed lower, skimming your stomach, fingers hooking under your waistband impatiently.

You gripped the handrail, desperate to keep your footing as he shoved two fingers inside you without warning.

“Don’t make a sound,” he growled. “Or do, I don’t give a shit if the whole building hears you getting split open by your boss’ fingers.”

You bit your lip, failing to stifle the whimper that slipped out as his thumb circled your clit.

“We… we shouldn’t do this here” you choked, hips rocking against his hand. “Anyone could come in—-“

“I know,” he cut in, voice rough. “And I’m going to make you come on my fingers while your coworkers toast to a great fucking work week in the next room.”

He kissed you roughly as his fingers thrust in deeper, making you gasp against his mouth. He swallowed it all.

He undid his belt swiftly but your greedy eyes couldn’t take a peek of him because he spun you around quickly, your hands pressing against the cold wall for balance.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against you. “For me to fuck you like the needy little slut you really are.”

“Sunghoon—” Your voice cracked. Whatever protest you had evaporated as he thrust in deeply, filling you so suddenly your forehead almost hit the tile wall.

“I told you to be quiet,” he growled, hand clamping over your mouth as his hips snapped roughly into yours. “Unless you want your entire restaurant to hear how desperate you are.”

You moaned against his palm, muffled, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you ruthlessly. You hated him, hated yourself for how good it felt, for how much you loved the brutal way he fucked you every time. Your body clenched greedily around him, betraying every bit of pride you had left.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your ear, composure cracking. “This tight cunt… did Richard fuck you before you came here tonight? Did you think of me the whole time?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, overwhelmed by how perfectly he filled and ruined you.

“No?” he laughed darkly, gripping your hair and pulling your head back roughly. “You’re mine. Remember that. I know nobody fucks you like this.”

Your body tightened, dizzy from the sensation of every thrust hitting deeper. The cubicle walls shook with each movement, the cheap metal rattling beneath the weight of your reckless need. 

“Come on,” he whispered harshly, hand sliding down to circle your clit mercilessly. “Now cum for me. Be a good girl for once in your life.”

You shattered instantly, violently, screaming against his palm, your walls fluttering around him. Sunghoon swore, still fucking you through every after shock and only pulling out when he was close. He pumped himself outside and spilled his cum all over your legs.

He held you there for a moment, both of you panting, barely holding yourselves upright against the stall wall. Then, he released you and adjusted himself neatly. Your legs trembled, barely able to stand.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

He zipped up without blinking. “Good. You fuck better when you’re mad.”

You kicked the door shut behind you, dropped your bag, and let out a groan that probably startled half the building. Richard blinked up from his favorite spot on the windowsill, tail twitching with interest.

You toed off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. “Richard, I swear to god, your mom’s about to lose her mind.”

He meowed, hopping down and trotting over, immediately stretching up to press his paws to your knee.

“Do you want to hear how my day went? Or are you just here for pets?” You rubbed behind his ear. “Never mind. You’re the only man in my life who isn’t an egomaniac.”

Richard purred in response, eyes wide and curious.

You sighed and started, “Park Sunghoon is the human equivalent of a migraine. He’s so full of himself. It’s always his way or nothing. He’s obsessed with control. And with my—” You caught yourself, cheeks warming. “—I mean, with being the center of attention.”

Richard licked his paw and gave you the bland, patient stare only cats can manage.

“Do you know what he did at work dinner? He walked in, sucked the air out of the room, and then got all territorial the second someone even looked at me. Like, hello? You’re my boss, not my husband!” You huffed, grabbing a throw pillow and squeezing it to your chest.

“And of course, he always has to one-up me. Always has to have the last word. I swear, he’d argue with a brick wall just to prove he could.” You sighed at the ceiling. “One of these days, I’m going to out-stubborn him, Richard. Just you wait.”

Richard meowed and rolled over, practically demanding you scratch his belly.

You gave in, smiling despite yourself. “If I ever start falling for a guy like him, you have my full permission to claw some sense into me. Okay? I mean it.”

Richard let out a long, slow blink, then tucked his head into your lap.

“Oh, don’t even. I know what you’re thinking. ‘But you let him rail you in a bathroom, so who’s really at fault?’ And yeah, fine, okay. That did happen. Doesn’t mean he gets to act like that.”

You sighed, unzipping your skirt halfway to sprawl more comfortably.

“And what was that comment tonight? ‘Did Richard fuck you before you came here?’ First of all, he’s a cat, you lunatic! Secondly, who says that? Who follows you into the ladies restroom just to whisper bullshit like that in your ear and still manage to look hot doing it?”

Silence.

Richard stretched his front paws and turned away from you.

“I hate him,” you groaned. “I hate that stupid look he gets when he knows I’m seconds away from either punching him or climbing him like a fucking ladder. I hate that he talks to me like he owns my body. I hate that I let him.”

You exhaled. For a moment, you try to let yourself forget the mess outside these walls and just be a girl with a comfy couch and a very good cat.

“He’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Richard purred, which was probably him agreeing.

“…And I need new panties.”

The following Monday was hell. You walked into the building with your chin high and your legs still sore, determined to keep it professional. Sunghoon, of course, didn’t look even slightly affected. He entered the conference room as if he hadn’t rearranged your insides in a public restroom stall less than 48 hours earlier.

The team meeting started normally enough. Mostly about updates, deadlines, and more mind-numbing corporate stuff. You were seated across from him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes kept drifting to you.

Then came the part where you had to present your weekly figures.

“Your report doesn’t account for the regional shift in quarter-two projections,” Sunghoon said, flipping through your printed pages without looking up.

You gave him a tight smile. “That’s because I was told to prioritize active trends over predictive models. As per last Friday’s brief, sir.”

A few heads turned at your sharp tone.

Sunghoon arched a thick brow. “Then you were told wrong.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying your own directives were wrong?”

“You must’ve misinterpreted them. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said coolly, shutting the folder.

Your jaw tightened. “Funny, since the last time I ‘misinterpreted’ something, you ended up correcting me right away.”

The air in the room dropped to sub-zero.

Sunghoon smiled. But it wasn’t nice. “Let’s take five. I think some of us need to clear our heads”

No one argued. The team scattered so fast it was like fire had broken out. Then it was just you and him.

“I see the bathroom didn’t teach you anything.” He said, voice low and flat as he rounded the table slowly.

You stood your ground. “If you think you can intimidate me in here just because we—”

“Oh, princess,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to intimidate you.”

He pushed you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the conference table. You blinked, but didn’t move. Stubborn to the end.

“Is this how you want to play it?” you asked, breathing uneven.

His eyes dropped to your hips. “This is how you like it.”

You opened your mouth to fire back but gasped when he dropped to his knees in front of you, palms sliding up the backs of your thighs and pulling you closer to his face, lips brushing against the hem of your skirt.

“Sunghoon—”

“Hush,” he said simply, lifting your leg over his shoulder. “You do too much talking.”

He shoved your panties aside and licked a slow stripe up your center. Your hand flew to the edge of the table, nails digging in. His mouth was hot and merciless, tongue working you open with infuriating skill.

“Is this what you wanted?” he muttered, voice muffled between your thighs. “To act like a brat in front of the team so I’d remind you how to behave?”

You couldn’t answer. His mouth was moving too fast now, tongue circling your clit while his fingers spread you wider. Your head fell back, hips rocking helplessly against his face.

He sucked hard, then pulled back just enough to smirk. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just whimpered, grinding down on his mouth.

He didn’t stop when your thighs shook or even when you clenched around his tongue, crying out into the empty conference room.

When you finally came, it was with a broken sound and a trembling grip on the polished edge of the table. He kept his mouth on you the whole time, lapping up everything you gave him like he was starved.

Eventually, he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, adjusting his sleeves.

You were still breathless, flushed, legs too weak to stand

“I expect your revised report in my inbox by end of day,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just tongue-fucked you into silence.

Sunghoon’s phone buzzed against the table. A single glance at the caller ID wiped the smugness from his face.

His jaw set. “I have to take this.”

You were still half perched on the edge of the conference table, skirt rucked up, panties sticking to you uncomfortably. “Now?”

He straightened his suit jacket with one sharp tug, then swiped to answer. “Yes, Chairman Park?”

Whatever he heard on the other end made the muscle in his cheek jump. “Understood. I’ll be there in ten.”

He killed the call and grabbed a folder he had tossed aside earlier. “I have to go.” His eyes flicked down to your still open thighs then darted back up as if forcing himself to look away. “Make yourself presentable before leaving”

He grabbed his suit jacket from the chair, ran a hand through his hair, and started toward the door.

“Wait, what?” you asked, still breathless. “Are you seriously just—leaving?”

He didn’t even look back. “I have to take care of something.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right? You just made me—”

“Clean the table up,” he said, already halfway out. “There’s a team coming in here at four.”

The door shut behind him, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne and the distant click of his shoes fading down the hall.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, yanking your panties back up. “I cannot believe I let that man near me again.”

And once again, you were left cleaning yourself up after Park Sunghoon decided to turn you inside out and vanish like nothing ever happened.

You went back to your desk and channeled every ounce of your anger into the stupid corrections Sunghoon had asked for, using every shred of self-restraint not to add an extremely inappropriate cartoon at the end for his private viewing.

When you finished, there wasn’t much else to do, so you decided to grab some snacks from the staff room. But as you made your way there, you nearly collided with Sunghoon, who was turning the corner accompanied by the CEO, Mr. Park, and a girl you’d never seen before.

The girl looked like she’d just walked off a runway. She was absolutely stunning, with the kind of beauty that made you double-take. She was gazing at Sunghoon with sparkling eyes, clearly smitten, and Sunghoon… was also smiling? And not his usual smirk or that infuriating shit-eating grin, either. This was almost gentle, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple appearing on his cheek. Since when did he have dimples?

You got caught staring when all of you paused in the hallway. After a few awkward seconds, you remembered you were supposed to greet them. “Mr. Park,” you bowed, earning a polite smile from the CEO.

“Oh, hello! Miss Y/L/N, right? Yes, I heard it was your proposal last year that revived the department. Well done! Sunghoon here really picks out the best candidates, doesn’t he?” He clapped Sunghoon on the back and laughed warmly.

Pick out? Well, he certainly picked out the best girl to use. You frowned, but Sunghoon noticed and stepped in smoothly.

“You’re too kind, sir.”

The CEO gestured to the girl. “This is my daughter.”

“Jang Wonyoung,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

You took it and smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“She’ll be starting here tomorrow,” the CEO continued.

“Here?” you asked, glancing between them. “As in… this department?”

“Indeed. Please treat her well,” Mr. Park said with a friendly nod. You bowed your head again.

“Of course, sir.”

You didn’t realize they accepted new candidates mid-year in this department, but you supposed being the CEO’s daughter had its perks.

“Well, I was just grabbing a refreshment,” you said, offering a brief smile before stepping past them and into the room. 

You glanced over your shoulder and caught Sunghoon stealing a quick glance at you. So this was the “very important business” that made him leave you hot, bothered, and stranded in the conference room? Of course. Giving the CEO’s daughter a personal tour was obviously more urgent than finishing what he’d started with you.

You tried to shake off the weird surge of annoyance building in your chest. You were supposed to be focusing on yourself, right? But ever since your twisted affair with Sunghoon began, your whole life had slipped out of order.

You’d missed your weekend pilates class because your limbs were too sore from being railed in the bathroom. You’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, replaying every aggravating thing he’d ever done, simmering in irritation and… something else you refused to discuss. You’d even skipped lunch a few times, pretending to be swamped with work just so he wouldn’t get the chance to “kidnap” you again.

Safe to say, Park Sunghoon was wrecking absolute havoc on your routine, and you were desperate to claw back some control.

Maybe this new girl would distract him and he’d finally leave you the hell alone. The idea made your mouth twist with something ugly and in your distracted state, you sipped your freshly brewed coffee, scalding your tongue immediately.

You walked out of the refreshment room with a burnt tongue, a soured mood, and not even a little bit refreshed.

Wonyoung joining your team turned out to be a much bigger hassle than you’d expected. Especially since, out of everyone, you were picked to show her the ropes during her first week. It was like babysitting a celebrity, except the fans were your own coworkers.

Every male employee you passed seemed to have suddenly discovered urgent business near your desk, only to pull you aside with the world’s most obvious fake smiles.

“So, uh… you got her number yet?”

“You think she’s seeing anyone?”

You’d learned to fake a polite smile back and keep it moving, but by Wednesday you were ready to claw your ears off. 

The real cherry on top, however, was Sunghoon himself. With Wonyoung around, he’d doubled down on humiliating you in every meeting. Every little thing you said was picked apart, corrected, or ignored outright. You could feel her perfect eyes on you every time he put you on the spot, and by Friday you were seething.

By the end of the week, you were so keyed up you couldn’t even fake politeness anymore. And unsurprisingly, being micromanaged and dragged into extra tasks had left you behind on your actual work.

Which is how you found yourself still at the office at nearly 3 a.m, hunched over your desk and furiously editing reports with trembling hands and a full mug of forbidden coffee. So much for your no caffeine rule.

Your phone buzzed, and when you saw it was a message from Sunghoon, you nearly hurled it across the room. 

What the hell did he want now? He’d barely acknowledged your existence this week, except to hand you extra work or cut you down in front of the entire team. Maybe he wanted to tell you you’d missed a comma in one of the reports. You knew how much he enjoyed kicking you when you were already down.

Your phone rang again but this time it was a call. You sighed, grabbed it, and answered with zero effort to hide your annoyance. “What?”

“Are you still at the office?” His voice was frustratingly alert for this hour.

“Why?”

“It’s 2am.”

You glanced at the clock. “I am painfully aware. How do you even know I’m here?”

“I can see the security cameras.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” you muttered, spinning in your chair. “Glad to know I can’t even work myself to death in peace.”

“I also saw you were still at your desk when I left earlier. And I know you well enough to know you’d probably stay late.”

“Right, you know me so well,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have about a million reports to correct. Which I got behind on, because I was busy playing tour guide to the little princess all week by the way.”

There was a pause and you almost thought he might apologize. But Sunghoon, as always, surprised you.

“Just… don’t stay too late. The security guards leave at three, and I don’t want to hear about you getting locked in.”

You rolled your eyes. “Noted, boss.”

He hung up before you could add anything else. You tossed your phone onto the desk and stared at your blinking cursor, feeling more annoyed than before.

Sunghoon walked in on the next day already armed with a rare idea. He would let you go home early. You had spent half the night here so the least he could do was let you beat the rush hour traffic.

Then he saw you climb out of Sungchan’s car.

Every good intention died immediately. The muscles in his face tightened so hard into a scowl they ached. He crossed the parking lot in long strides until he was in front of you.

“Morning,” he said impassively. “You two are late.”

He knew you weren’t. The Rolex on his wrist still read 8:58. But the words fired out anyway.

Your easy smile vanished as you simply huffed and strode past him into the building without a word. Sungchan offered a quick bow, clearly confused, then hurried after you. 

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed. Since when did you commute with Sungchan? Did you not have a perfectly functioning car?

He waited until Sungchan had disappeared back to the accounting floor, before stalking over to your desk. He forced himself to make his tone as casual as possible. You looked irritable enough to bite.

“So,” he said, hands in his pockets, “did you finish those report corrections?”

Without speaking, you lifted a neat stack of files, and set them in his hand. 

Great. Now you weren’t even talking to him.

“I didn’t know you were so close with Sungchan,” he tried, still aiming for non-threatening. “Car trouble? Or is he your new chauffeur?”

You exhaled one of those long, tired sighs that felt like a door slamming in his face before finally looking up at him. The frost in your eyes was familiar, almost nostalgic. He realized he had barely seen you outside meetings last week, and in a twisted way he had missed this exact glare.

“Do you need something?” you asked, voice flat as glass.

He frowned. “No, I was just—”

“Then, if it’s not work-related, I have a lot to do.” You gathered another stack of folders and stood. “And Ms. Jang seems to be waiting for you.”

Sunghoon followed the direction of your nod. Wonyoung stood outside his office with a tablet in her hands. He looked back at you, hoping for one more second of eye contact, something he could read. You were already walking away.

He clenched the corrected reports a little too tightly and turned toward Wonyoung. Whatever nice gesture he’d planned for you earlier was dead on arrival.

You knew from that chilly exchange that your day would not be a walk in the park. The meeting was only ten minutes in and already your nails were half-destroyed from how hard you were digging them into your palm.

Sunghoon was on a roll today. Maybe it was the caffeine or the fact that Wonyoung was seated beside him looking all pretty. But whatever it was, he had decided today was the day to challenge everything you said.

“No,” he cut in for the fourth time, tone clipped, “that’s not what the report reflects. Unless you’ve somehow redefined what productivity looks like, Miss Y/L/N.”

You inhaled sharply. “It’s what the data says. You know, the thing you usually ignore when it doesn’t flatter your genius ideas?”

A few coworkers coughed into their palms. Some even looked up as if  they were watching live combat. Wonyoung, of course, just blinked politely.

Sunghoon’s jaw twitched. “Just because I let you lead these meetings doesn’t mean you should forget who’s running this department.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you snapped. “It’s kind of hard when every sentence from your mouth is a dick-measuring contest with yourself.”

The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. He just slowly set down his pen and met your gaze with equal intensity. “I think that’s enough for today. Good job everyone.” 

This scene was very familiar and if you remembered correctly, if you stayed in here another second, he would get you in a compromising situation you’d surely regret later.

So you huffed out a breath and walked out, ignoring the curious looks exchanged behind you. Sunghoon was hot on your heels.

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you,” he muttered, stalking toward you.

“And you’ve got a god complex. Guess we all have flaws, don’t we?”

“I’m your superior.”

“And I’m sick of you reminding me that when I don’t roll over every time you bark!”

He was suddenly in front of you, invading your space. “I wouldn’t have to remind you if you knew how to behave.”

“Says the one who doesn’t know how to treat a woman unless your dick’s out.”

Sunghoon's hand gripped the back of your neck and shoved you into the filing cabinets inside the copy room, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to tell you the gloves were off.

“Oh, you wanna talk about dicks?” he hissed, his mouth now inches from yours. “Let me remind you how good mine felt buried inside you.”

You refused to back down. “Are you going to fuck the attitude out of me again? How very predictable.”

You twisted in his grip, shoving his chest, but he caught your wrists.

“You want to keep mouthing off?” he rasped, advancing until your bodies hit the cabinet.

“Fuck you.”

He answered by twisting a fist into your hair and crushing his mouth to yours, his tongue driving past your lips as though he could steal every spark of your anger. His free hand slid down to cup your jaw, fingers locking around your chin to hold you still.

“Fucking look at you” he spat, lips swollen and smeared as he tore himself from your mouth “All that attitude, but you’re shaking for me. Who’s the predictable one?”

You glared, stubborn to the last, but your hips betrayed you with a needy twitch. He grabbed you and spun you, forcing you forward until your chest slammed against the cabinet’s freezing edge. His hand bunched up your skirt high, the other tearing your tights and panties down in one rough motion.

“Let me guess,” he sneered, fingers trailing between your legs, “Sungchan made you this wet? Or was it the thought of me bending you over like this?”

You gasped when two long fingers plunged inside you. There was nothing tender in the way he moved—just a ruthless rhythm, demanding your surrender.He curled his fingers, thumb flicking over your clit, making you whimper despite yourself.

“God, listen to you. Moaning like a slut in the copy room,” he taunted, voice dropping lower. “You act so high and mighty, but you’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you?”

You bit your wrist to stifle a cry, your hips rocking back against his hand.

“That’s right. Take it. You love it when I treat you like this. You want it rougher?  Or do you want me to slow down and pretend I give a shit about your feelings?”

“Don’t you dare slow down,” you snapped, words strangled with need.

He laughed breathlessly. “Didn’t think so.”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them with a wicked grin. “Pathetic. You’re dripping for me. After all your bitching, you still can’t help yourself.”

You twisted, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

His belt hit the floor within a second. He gripped your hips, lined himself up, and thrust in so deep and sudden you yelped. He didn let you adjust to his sheer size, simply grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back with one hand, the other squeezing your throat, forcing your back to arch.

“Don’t you dare close your legs. I wanna see you take every inch,” he snarled, grabbing your thighs and holding them wide as he pounded into you. His cock was stretching you so wide and deep, hitting all the right spots until you were a mess of moans and broken pleas. 

Every thrust was sharp and punishing, your body shuddering under him, wetness dripping down your thighs. If anyone heard, they’d know exactly what he was doing to you but you could not care less at that moment.

“Who do you belong to?” His voice was sharp. “Say it. Say you’re mine, or I’ll leave you like this.”

You shook, barely able to breathe. “Yours. I’m yours.”

He leaned down, teeth grazing your ear. “Louder.”

“Yours!” you gasped, voice echoing in the tiny room.

“Yeah, that’s right. And when you walk out of here, everyone’s going to know it. I want my cum leaking down your thighs during the next meeting. I want you thinking about this every time you sit down at your desk. You got that?”

You nodded desperately, tears stinging your eyes from the stretch and the force of his thrusts.

He let go of your wrists, grabbed your hips, and fucked you harder, so rough you saw stars. He reached around and rubbed your clit fast, breath hot against your neck.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You came so hard, whole body seizing in the waves of your orgasm. Your legs shook, almost giving out able to hold you up. Sunghoon kept going, chasing his own release, until he pulled out and came by your legs with a guttural curse.

You let your head fall back against the cabinet, trying to catch your breath. The fury that had burned so hot just minutes ago had dulled into a simmer of exhausted annoyance. You expected to turn around and see Sunghoon already tugging up his pants, smoothing his hair back into place, maybe even tossing a smug remark over his shoulder like "clean yourself up."

But when you looked, he wasn’t walking away. He was still standing behind, holding a handkerchief similar to the one he’d used when you ate together.

And then, to your complete disbelief, he knelt down.

You blinked. "What are you—"

Before you could finish, he was gently wiping the mess off your thighs—his and yours. His touch was careful, the same hands that just made you see stars  now moving with a tenderness that almost made you recoil.

When he finally stood again, you caught the faint but unmistakable flush on the tips of his ears. He avoided your gaze for a moment, brushing his palms against his pants as if trying to rid himself of the moment.

“Did something happen to your car?”

It took you a second to catch up. “Uhm, yeah, it wouldn’t start this morning. It’s at the shop now.”

He nodded once, then looked at you with a neutral expression. “I can give you a ride home. And to work, until it’s fixed.”

You paused mid-motion as you adjusted your tights. That was… surprisingly considerate. Especially coming from someone who usually barked orders instead of offering help.

“I… sure. You can give me a ride home today,” you said cautiously. “As for tomorrow, I’ll think about it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer than and then he nodded again.

“All right then.”

He wasn’t forcing a choice on you this time. How strange.

Later, when the workday finally ended, you waited by your desk. Usually, you were the last one to leave, and tonight was no exception so the office was mostly dark and quiet by the time Sunghoon emerged from his office.

“Ready?” he asked walking over.

“Yes,” you said, grabbing your things and falling into step beside him as you made your way to the elevator. 

There was an odd tension between you, but not the usual  combative kind. This was almost awkward. Because for the first time, you were leaving together without arguing or being forced into it.

Once inside his car, you couldn’t help but remember how hard you’d slammed the door the last time you were here. This time, you shut it gently, settling into the plush seat. Sunghoon glanced at you. “Remind me your your address again.”

You gave it to him, then the rest of the ride was quiet except for the faint music playing on the radio. The air inside the Mercedes was icy cold, and you found yourself rubbing your arms.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence and making you flinch a little.

“A bit. I forgot my jacket at the office,” you admitted.

Without a word, he turned down the AC. You shot him a surprised look and muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

What were these weird, almost pleasant interactions? It was disorienting, acting as if he hadn’t called you a slut while pounding into you just hours ago.

He pulled up in front of your building. Every rational instinct in you said to just thank him and get out, but the small, reckless part of you that liked these quiet moments won out.

“Would you like to come up?” you asked, the words almost slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Sunghoon looked stunned and was silent for so long you nearly rescinded the offer. But then he switched off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt in one smooth motion.

You led the way up the stairs, glancing back with a quick, “Sorry, the elevator’s busted, but I’m only on the third floor.” As you fumbled with your keys, you realized you hadn’t even checked if the place was tidy. Shit. You hadn’t expected any visitors—especially not Park Sunghoon.

You pushed open the door and peeked inside. Not bad. At least your laundry wasn’t everywhere.

“Come in,” you said, stepping aside so he could enter. He took off his shoes, scanning the small apartment with that unreadable expression of his. You couldn’t tell if he was silently judging your shoebox space or mentally praising your attempts at decorating.

“Uhm, I’ll get you something to drink. Tea? Water?”

“Water’s fine,” he replied, following you toward the kitchen.

“Okay, you can just—” You stopped dead in your tracks as your gaze landed on the elephant in the room: your punching bag, standing proud in the corner, with Sunghoon’s picture still taped squarely to its center. His face was staring straight at both of you.

You spun around in a panic to check if he’d noticed, but of course he had.

“I see you have very particular ways of entertaining yourself in here,” he said, amusement curling in his voice.

“Oh, god.” You rushed over, trying to untangle the heavy bag from its hook, but it wouldn’t budge. You tried peeling off the picture, but you’d used so much tape that it refused to budge.

“This is not what it seems,” you stammered, attempting to hide the offending evidence with your body.

He just grinned. “I think it’s exactly what it seems. But don’t worry…I use your pictures to let off steam, too.” He winked, and your mouth dropped open at the implication.

“What—?”

Before things could spiral further, Richard picked that moment to waltz out of your bedroom. The cat sauntered past you and headed straight for Sunghoon, tail held high, eyes curious. Sunghoon crouched down and gave the orange tabby a gentle pat on the head.

“And who is this?” he asked, stroking the soft fur.

“Richard,” you said simply, waiting for his reaction.

His hand froze mid-pet, and he looked up at you, stunned disbelief written all over his face. Then an incredulous laugh burst out of him.

“This is Richard…?” he asked, straightening up, still half-laughing.

“Yup.” You grinned, unable to hide it. “Bet you feel pretty dumb now.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “For getting jealous of a cat?!”

You tried to look innocent, but the satisfaction on your face was impossible to miss. “Guess so.”

“Who names their cat Richard?” Sunghoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with the name Richard?”

“That’s a grown man’s name.”

You crossed your arms. “I named him after the tiger in my favorite movie, Life of Pi. It felt appropriate.”

He glanced at the orange tabby. “He hardly looks like a tiger to me.”

“He’s very fierce and wise, actually.” You scratched behind Richard’s ear. “I think he can even sense bad vibes in people. He scratched my ex’s face once and a week later I found out the idiot was cheating.”

Right on cue, Richard tapped Sunghoon’s leg with a paw, then purred the moment Sunghoon scooped him up.

Sunghoon smirked. “Guess my vibes are fine.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t trust the judgement of a cat.”

Sunghoon scoffed and scratched beneath Richard’s chin, earning another contented purr. “Can’t believe you named him after a tiger,” he murmured.

“Have you even seen Life of Pi?” you asked, suspicion creeping in.

He shook his head. “I never had the time. There’s a tiger in it, I assume?”

Your jaw dropped. “You work eighty hours a week and still find time to ruin my life, but you can’t spend two hours on one of the best films ever?”

“That’s a bold statement.”

“Sit.” 

A half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

You queued the movie while Sunghoon lounged stiffly on the couch, Richard curled stubbornly in his lap. You tossed him a blanket both to be polite and because your apartment ran cool at night.

“No commentary until after. I take this movie very seriously.”

“I think I can hold my tongue.”

You explained every detail as the movie played—why Richard Parker was the tiger’s name, the symbolism of whether everything was real or just in Pi’s mind, the parts that always made you cry or laugh. Sunghoon watched, surprisingly attentive, occasionally glancing at you as much as the screen.

At some point, you realized your legs were touching. And somewhere between Pi’s first dazzling storm and his heartbreaking plea to the universe Sunghoon’s shoulder arm slipped behind you on the coach. 

You’d occasionally glance his way, noticing the slight furrow of his thick brows during emotional scenes and the small smiles when something amused him. You had never really seen Sunghoon relax like this, unguarded, his features softening as he became absorbed in the story.

At some point, your exhaustion caught up to you and without even realizing it, your eyelids grew heavy.

It wasn’t until morning sunlight started filtering through the blinds hours later that you woke up. Your cheek was pressed against something warm and firm and blinking sleepily, you realized with a jolt that it wasn’t a pillow… it was Sunghoon’s chest. His arm was loosely wrapped around you, his head tilted slightly, his breathing steady and peaceful.

You’d cuddled in your sleep. Oh lord.

After that accidental night on the couch, everything changed in subtle ways. You weren’t exactly friends, but you weren’t enemies either. He still rolled his eyes at your snark, you still muttered under your breath about his god complex—but now, he took you home every night. 

And somehow, that always turned into “let’s just watch something before bed,” which inevitably became shared popcorn, shared blankets, and shared pillows.

Some nights, you’d fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch and wake up tangled together, Richard squeezed somewhere in the middle like an orange pillow. Other nights, there was lingering heat—a kiss pressed to your shoulder, or the back of your neck, when he thought you were already asleep.

You’d convinced yourself you were fine with this weird in-between. You even ignored the fact that, lately, you kind of wanted him to stay over more. You liked seeing him half awake and soft in your kitchen, hair sticking up, pouring two cups of coffee.

But it couldn’t stay sweet forever.

It happened on a Thursday. You were in the shower, humming to yourself, when you realized you’d left your phone on your bed. Sunghoon, making himself at home in your apartment as always, went to grab it for you when it buzzed but the battery died at that moment. He opened your nightstand drawer, looking for a charger.

And found your stash.

He picked up the monster dildo first, brow arching so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline. The rose toy rolled out right after, bouncing off his knuckle and landing with a soft thud on your sheets.

You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, only to find Sunghoon standing by your bed, your entire sex toy arsenal on proud display in his hands.

You froze. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He looked up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well… I always knew you were insatiable, but this is impressive.”

You wanted to melt into the floor. “Put those back.”

He turned the monster dildo over in his palm, appraising it like a weapon. “You actually use this? On yourself?”

You tried to snatch it, but he pulled it just out of reach. “Give it—”

He cut you off with a look that said don’t-even-try, and just like that, all the softness of the past week evaporated.

“Why bother with these?” he asked, stepping closer until your knees hit the bed. “When you’ve got me?”

You glared, embarrassment making your skin burn. “Sometimes you’re not around, asshole.”

His smirk darkened. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time, don’t you think?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he pressed a hand to your shoulder, pushing you gently to sit on the edge of the mattress. He tossed the toys down beside you, crowding into your space, heat pouring off him in waves.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he said, voice dropping to a growl. “You’re going to show me exactly how you use these. And then I’m going to show you why you’ll never need them again.”

He slipped your towel down, his eyes devouring every inch of your glistening skin. He picked up the rose toy and flicked it on, the gentle buzz loud in the quiet room.

“Lay back,” he ordered, and you did—body already shaking with anticipation.

He tossed the rose toy onto the bed, its gentle buzz loud in the quiet room. You hesitated, still flushed from the shower, feeling the heat of his gaze as you settled back against your pillows. Sunghoon kneeled at tj, legs spread, dark eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Show me how you play when you’re alone. I want to see everything.”

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you pressed the toy against your clit, legs falling open wider for him, not just for the toy’s sake but because the hunger in his gaze made you feel more confident. The rose fluttered, sending tiny waves through you, and you couldn’t help the shaky sounds spilling from your lips.

He leaned forward a little, his voice husky. “Shit,” he said quietly. “Do you always fuck yourself this pretty, or is it just because I’m watching?”

Your breath caught, fingers slipping as your thighs tensed. He smirked, settling a hand over your knee to keep you wide open. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see every single thing you do to yourself when you’re alone. I want to know exactly what it takes to make you come when I’m not here.”

You whined, rolling your hips. “Sunghoon—please—”

He watched the toy kiss you, watched you tremble, and his eyes got darker, voice roughening. “I bet you rub yourself like this just wishing it was my tongue instead of that toy.” He let his hand slide up, tracing your thigh, almost but not quite touching where you wanted him. “Or do you imagine my fingers fucking you open, filling you up until you can’t take any more?”

You nodded, too close to care about being coy. The toy buzzed higher and you gasped, feeling your orgasm start to crest.

But his hand shot out, stopping yours, and he leaned in until his mouth hovered right next to your ear. “Don’t come until I say. You know better than that.”

You whimpered in frustration.

He plucked the toy from your hand, turning it off with a click. “You want to come, princess?” he whispered, and the teasing was gone from his tone now, replaced with a darker command. “Open your legs wider. Let me show you how it’s done.”

His mouth was on you a second later. His tongue slid greedily over your clit, circling, then flattening as he sucked. His fingers pressed into you, filling you in a way the toy never could.

His gaze remained locked on your face. His dark eyes never looked as alive as when he was looking up from between your thighs.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, breath warm against your skin. “You really did get yourself worked up for me. You love being watched, don’t you? Love knowing you have all my attention, huh? You are a greedy little thing.”

You couldn’t answer in anything but incoherent mumbles and moans. His hand pressed firmly over your stomach, holding you still as he sucked and licked, working you closer, refusing to give you the mercy of release until he decided you’d earned it.

“Now,” he growled, voice barely more than a snarl, “cum for me now.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, coming apart in his mouth, trembling and gasping as your orgasm took over—harder than anything that little toy could’ve ever managed. He licked you through it, holding you until you finally stopped shaking.

When he finally detached from you, his mouth was slick, his eyes still hungry. He leaned over, kissing you deep and dirty so you could taste yourself on his tongue, and whispered, “Next time you want to play with your toys, you do it while I watch. Got it?”

As Sunghoon started spending more nights at your place, he made it a habit to try every toy in your collection. He’d probably tried every last one on you, determined to learn which ones made you come the hardest. But his absolute favorite wasn’t from your drawer at all, it was something he picked out and bought himself. A sleek black plug that vibrated on command.

You’d given him attitude about it. He just smiled, handed you the plug, and watched as you put it in before work. That was three hours ago.

Now, you were walking through the office with the plug buried deep inside, thighs clenched tight even though Sunghoon hadn’t so much as touched the remote yet. You couldn’t deny there was a weird thrill in the risk, in not knowing when or if he’d use it. But after weeks together, you also knew that Sunghoon loved pushing your limits… Especially in public.

“Y/N!” Sungchan’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He caught up to you in the hallway.

You smiled at him, adjusting the stack of files in your arms. “Hi, Sungchan!”

He grinned back and took half your papers before you could protest. “Hey, where have you been lately? We haven’t seen you at a single dinner since the last quarter ended.”

You scrambled for an excuse that didn’t involve confessing that Sunghoon had been monopolizing all your nights lately. “Oh, uh… I had family visiting, so I’ve been showing them around.”

He nodded, believing it. “Ah, I see. Still, it’d be nice if you could make it to the next one. I miss—uh, we miss you over there.”

You smiled back, heart squeezing a bit at his earnestness. “I miss it too. I’ll definitely be there next—AH!”

A sudden jolt of vibration inside you cut your sentence short. Your knees nearly buckled as the plug came to life rocketing through your core.

Sungchan stopped, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

You forced a brittle smile, fighting to stay upright. “Y-yeah, sorry. Leg cramp. Must’ve overdone it at Pilates.”

The toy started again, stronger this time. You bit down a whimper, gripping the papers tighter as your thighs squeezed together in helpless reaction.

You didn’t need to look far for the culprit. Sunghoon strolled out of the copy room at that exact moment, remote hidden in his palm, satisfaction flickering behind his polite mask. He had clearly listened to every word of your conversation and waited for the perfect moment to torture you.

“Oh, boss!” Sungchan said, bowing politely. 

“Everything alright here?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face. You could tell from the curl at the corner of his mouth that he was enjoying every second of your squirming.

Sungchan nodded, shifting the papers in his arms. “I was just helping Y/N with these reports.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked downward, taking in your shaky legs. “Miss Y/L/N, are you feeling alright? You seem… tense.”

You met his eyes, breathless, fighting not to murder him on the spot. “I’m fine. Really. Just… cramps.”

He tilted his head, feigning concern as his thumb rolled the dial a little higher. The vibration inside you grew wicked and relentless.

“Let me know if you need to step away,” he said, voice low and laced with dark amusement. “I wouldn’t want you to be… uncomfortable at work.”

You clenched your jaw and glared at him, vowing silent revenge.

Sungchan stood there awkwardly, still clutching half your paperwork, completely unaware that you were one second away from dropping to your knees from something a lot filthier than “cramps.”

“Miss Y/L/N, a word in my office,” Sunghoon said finally, voice pleasant enough to fool anyone who didn’t know him. His thumb pressed the remote again and another deep vibration nearly made you cry. Your hand shot out, steadying yourself on the wall as Sungchan frowned in concern.

“I’ll take those,” Sunghoon added, collecting the reports from Sungchan with a civil nod. “Thank you, Sungchan. That’ll be all.”

He waited for you to follow, every step a test of your composure. You walked, feeling every throb, every twist of sensation as the plug kept buzzing on and off in random intervals.

As soon as his office door clicked shut, Sunghoon pressed you back against it and his mouth was on your neck. His hand trailed down your spine, under your skirt, gripping your ass with possessive force. You gasped, hips bucking against his.

He didn’t bother hiding his hunger. “On your knees. Right now.”

You dropped, the plush carpet digging into your knees as you looked up at him. Your hands trembled, but he just pressed the remote again, sending another jolt through the toy. He kept his gaze locked on yours, undoing his belt slowly, his cock was already thick and hard when he pulled it out.

“Keep your hands behind your back,” he said, biting his lip. “If you touch me before I say, or if you stop moving, you don’t get to cum. Understand?”

You nodded, biting your lip as he guided himself to your mouth. The plug thrummed inside you again and the sharp waves of pleasure made your whole body twitch. “Speak”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open that pretty mouth,” he said, smirking as you took him in, hollowing your cheeks and letting spit drip down your chin. 

He thrust in shallowly but he was big enough to make you gag. The plug buzzed again matching his rhythm, torturing you until you were a quivering mess.

“So good,” he praised, one hand tangled in your hair as you sucked him down. “Look at you. Fuck, you’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth. You love it, don’t you?”

You whimpered around him, letting your tongue swirl around his, eyes focused on a vein that kept pulsing agains your nose. He pulled out just enough to let you gasp for air, thumb swiping the mess from your lips. “If you want to come, keep working for it.”

You took him back in, letting him fuck your throat while the toy buzzed harder inside you. You were shaking, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. He watched you mesmerized, drinking in the sight of you debased and ruined.

He pressed the remote, cutting the vibration just as you were about to tip over, and you whined, hips bucking in frustration. He just laughed, thrusting deeper, hips stuttering as you gagged around him, drool and precum slicking your chin.

“Beg for it,” he said, pulling you off with a pop. “Tell me why you deserve to come.”

You sobbed, voice shaking. “Please, Sunghoon, I’ve been good, so good… Please let me come—I need it, I need you—”

He groaned, thumb stroking your cheek. “Yes, such a good girl.” He yanked you to your feet, spinning you and bending you over his desk. 

He pinned you down with one hand between your shoulder blades, while the other finally reached between your legs. He pressed the remote again but on full power this time, the plug vibrating so violently it nearly knocked the sense from you.

He thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt, the sensation almost too much to bear with the toy still inside you. “You cum when I say. Not a second before. Or I’ll leave you aching all night.”

He fucked you hard against his expensive mahogany desk. It’d been a while since you found yourself in this situation.The first time, you'd been on the verge of quitting. Now, you were in so deep the thought of leaving almost felt absurd.

The room filled with the sound of skin on skin. “So fucking tight around my cock, you’re made to be used, aren’t you? You want everyone to know how filthy you are?”

You could only nod, biting the desk to stifle your screams.

When he finally let you come, it was with a snarl of permission. Your body convulsed, legs trembling so hard you nearly collapsed. He followed with a growl, pulling out at the last second to empty himself around your legs.

He leaned in, breath hot on your ear. “You did good, baby. But next time, if you stop for even a second, I’ll edge you in every meeting until you’re begging on your knees in front of everyone.”

He pulled himself into his pants again nd handed you a tissue with a twisted smile. “Don’t you dare take that plug out until I tell you.”

On Friday, you let your best friend Jiah drag you to a tiny café two blocks from the office. It had been weeks since you’d seen her in person, and she was determined to catch up over overpriced pastries and matcha lattes.

Jiah perched on the edge of her seat, eyes bright. “So? How’s the office drama? Last time we talked you were ready to throw a stapler at your boss.”

You forced a laugh, swirling foam with your straw. “The drama hasn’t died but let’s just say my ways of coping are … better.”

She wiggled her brows. “Oooh, do tell.”

You dodged, asking about her family instead. Jiah launched into updates, including a long tangent about her older sister, Yerin.

“You remember Yerin’s boyfriend? The med-school guy?” Jiah said, breaking off a piece of croissant. “She just found out she’s pregnant.”

Your brows shot up. “Seriously? Weren’t they being careful?”

“That’s the thing… They were doing the pull-out method.” Jiah rolled her eyes. “He swore he had ‘great timing’ Turns out pre-cum can have sperm, so… surprise baby.”

You choked on your latte. “Wait, that can happen? I thought it was only risky if—”

“Nope.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Doc told her even a tiny amount can be enough. She was only a week late before the test lit up like a Christmas tree.”

A cold prickle slid down your spine. Two weeks late. You did a quick mental calculation. Your own period was… what, four days overdue now? Maybe five? You’d chalked it up to stress and the whirlwind that was Park Sunghoon, but now every twinge in your body felt like a warning siren.

Jiah kept talking, but her voice blurred under the thud of your own heartbeat. You flashed back to all the times Sunghoon pulled out only at the last second… or sometimes not at all. Most of the times you’d had sex it was either after an argument or an emotional moment where neither of you paid much attention to anything other than getting into each other’s pants. You thought you were safe enough. Apparently you had thought wrong.

“Y/N? You zoning out on me?” Jiah frowned.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Work headache.”

She reached over and squeezed your hand. “Take a break this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and checked your watch, suddenly eager to leave. You hugged her goodbye outside the café, then headed straight to the corner pharmacy. In your mind you could already see two pink lines and Sunghoon’s cold expression.

Inside the bright aisles, you grabbed the first pregnancy test pack you saw, plus a bottle of aspirin for the impending migraine that was coming your way. Receipt in hand, you tucked everything into your bag and headed home, with your stomach in knots.

In the elevator up to your apartment, you pressed a palm to your flat abdomen and exhaled. Maybe your cycle was just off. It wouldn’t be the first time. Still, you couldn’t shake this weird feeling. The memory of Sunghoon’s hands on your hips, his whispered orders, and the way he sometimes pulsed inside you before he pulled out.

Richard greeted you at the door with a questioning meow. You set the test on the bathroom sink, heart pounding so loud you almost didn’t hear him.

“Give me a minute, buddy,” you whispered.

You pulled out tue test and stared at the white stick on the sink like it was a cursed object.

Three minutes. That’s what the instructions said. Wait three minutes to know what the rest of your life would look like. But you were already sweating thirty seconds in, pacing in tight circles while Richard watched from the hallway as if he somehow knew something serious was happening.

You didn’t feel pregnant. Whatever that meant. You felt tired, bloated, a little nauseous…but you’d asummed it all the work stress, Sunghoon, bad sleep, and probably the coffee addiction you’d reignited. You kept telling yourself that. Over and over. But still… your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You set a timer on your phone and turned it face down. The longest three minutes of your life ticked by. You tried distracting yourself by doomscrolling and petting Richard. Nothing worked. Your eyes kept flicking toward the bathroom, it was as if the damn test was whispering your name from the counter.

Finally the timer went off and the sound startled you so bad, you had to steel yourself before you flipped the phone and stepped back into the bathroom.

Two lines.

Two very, very pink lines.

You picked up the test with shaky fingers, hoping maybe your vision was just messed up. You held it up to the light. Still two lines. 

“Oh my god.” Your voice came out hoarse. “Oh my god.”

You sank onto the floor, test still in hand in your shaky hands. Your mouth was dry. Your skin felt clammy. The terrifying, irreversible shift of knowing your body wasn’t just yours anymore. 

The idea settled like a stone in your gut. You didn’t know what to feel or think. 

How far along? When did it happen? Was it that night in the bathroom? His apartment? The goddamn copy room?

You pressed your palms into your eyes, trying not to panic. You were smart. It wasn’t like you to miss something as important as using protection. God, it was because Sunghoon distracted you in ways no one else did. 

You glanced down at the test again. Still two lines. Still screaming the same thing.

Richard meowed softly from the doorway. You looked at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm, heart pounding with dread and disbelief. The first thing you saw was the positive pregnancy test on your nightstand as undeniable proof of your stupidity. You grabbed your bag and headed to the pharmacy the second it opened. Just to be sure. Maybe the first one was faulty, or expired, or just wrong. It had to be.

But it wasn’t.

You sat in your bathroom, knees drawn to your chest, staring at two pink lines for the second time in twelve hours. No matter how many times you blinked, they didn’t change. You called your doctor’s office and managed to snag an appointment for later that afternoon.

Now came the harder part which was getting out of work. That meant you had to face Sunghoon.

You waited until after the rush of meetings to slip into his office. He was at his desk, brow furrowed over some report. He barely looked up.

“What is it?” His tone was brisk, but you could hear the familiar thread of concern woven through.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “I need to leave a little early today. I, uh, have a personal appointment.”

His eyes flickered up. “What kind of appointment?”

You felt your pulse spike. “Just… some stuff I’ve been putting off. Nothing serious.” You tried to sound casual, but even to your own ears it was a little too shaky.

He didn’t look convinced. “You don’t usually ask to leave early. Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Fine. It’s nothing, really.”

He watched you for a long moment, then nodded, though his gaze was sharper now. “All right. You can go. Just let me know if you need anything.”

You managed a tight smile, thanked him, and hurried out. The relief was only temporary. You felt his eyes on you as you packed up your bag later. You kept your head down, moving quickly through the halls, trying to breathe. You just needed to get out without drawing attention.

But as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you heard your name.

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Sunghoon coming after you. He stopped in front of you, face tight with concern.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, lowering his voice. “You’ve been weird all week, and now you’re leaving in the middle of the day. Did something happen? Is someone bothering you?”

You tried to keep your voice steady. “I told you, I just have an appointment.”

He studied you, eyes searching your face for the truth. “If it’s something serious, you know you can tell me, right?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I promise.”

He didn’t move. “Y/N—”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I just… need a day, okay?” You stepped around him, heart pounding.

He watched you go, suspicion and worry etched into every line of his face.

You barely noticed the city traffic as you made your way to your doctor’s office. Part of you wished you could just tell him, have him hold you, promise that everything would be all right. But you weren’t ready.

And you had no idea what he’d do when he finally found out.

You spent the entire afternoon at the clinic—filling out forms with trembling hands, answering questions you barely heard, and then sitting through the blood test, heart racing the whole time. The nurse gave you a gentle smile as she bandaged your arm, telling you the results would be ready the next day. You nodded numbly, thanked her, and collected your things. You felt both lighter and heavier at once—like the truth was closing in from all sides.

Outside, dusk was already settling over the city. You wrapped your coat tighter around you and pushed through the clinic doors, bracing for cold air and the blur of street noise.

What you didn’t expect was to see Sunghoon leaning against the rail, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the entrance like he’d been waiting there for hours.

You stopped short, a fresh wave of anxiety crashing through you. “Sunghoon?”

He looked you up and down, his eyes dark with worry. “So it was a doctor’s appointment.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You clutched your purse tighter.

“Are you sick?” he asked quietly, stepping closer, scanning your face for any sign of injury or pain. “Or is it something worse?”

You shook your head quickly, voice barely more than a whisper. “No. I’m not sick.”

He exhaled, but didn’t relax. “Then what is it? You’ve been acting strange all week. Avoiding me, lying about where you’re going—” He broke off, jaw working. “Are you in trouble? Is someone—?”

“No,” you said, sharper than you meant. “It’s not like that. I just… I needed to figure some things out on my own first.”

He let that hang in the air, the weight of your silence stretching between you. Finally, he spoke, voice much softer. “Okay… and did you figure it out?”

You looked away, blinking hard. “I’ll know tomorrow,” you managed. 

He nodded slowly, studying you for a long moment before speaking again. “I have an important meeting, but I’ll take you home first.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Come on.”

He extended his hand toward you, and for a second, you hesitated. But eventually, your fingers curled around his. You’d never walked together like this before—hand in hand, quiet, deliberate—and it felt oddly intimate. Like a threshold you weren’t sure either of you had meant to cross.

If you were pregnant… would Sunghoon want to make things official? Would he ask you to be with him just because of a child? You weren’t even sure what you were to him now. But the thought grew heavier with each step you took beside him.

You bit down on your quivering lip, stopping without meaning to.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to face you. His brow furrowed when he saw your eyes glassy with tears. He stepped close and framed your face with gentle palms. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I…” You didn’t want to tell him yet, not until you were completely sure. But it felt like a weight on your chest, making it harder to breathe. And when he looked at you like that, with concern instead of distance, part of you wanted to believe he wouldn’t hate you.

“I took a pregnancy test yesterday.”

His thumb paused its soothing sweep across your cheek. You swallowed. “Two tests, actually…They were both positive.”

He didn’t speak for eight whole seconds. You counted. And in those eight seconds, your mind conjured every worst-case scenario. Maybe he’d pull away and leave. Maybe he’d say you did this on purpose, and accuse you of trying to trap him. Maybe he’d deny it was even his.

“You’re pregnant?” was all he said, softly.

He didn’t look angry. Or disgusted. Just… serious. Like he was processing.

“I don’t know,” you replied quickly, heart racing. “The tests aren’t always accurate. I looked it up… if they’re expired or stored too long, they can give false results. Or if you think you’re pregnant, your body can sometimes trick itself, and the hormone levels get messed up and—” You stopped, breath catching. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

He watched you quietly, then asked, “And you got blood work today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But the lab closed early, so I won’t get results until tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said, exhaling. “I’ll come with you.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. Of course I do.” His tone was firm but not angry. “Y/N, I’m just as involved in this as you. Just… don’t push me away, alright?”

You looked up into his eyes and, for a moment, saw a flicker of emotion you’d never seen before. Maybe he was nervous too, but he was holding it together for both of you. He didn’t seem angry. If anything, he seemed determined to stay.

It was the first time in days you didn’t feel completely alone. You let yourself lean into that support, just for now.

When you got to your apartment, Sunghoon decided to stay, and you didn’t protest. The thought of being alone right now was almost unbearable.

“Are you hungry? I’m assuming you didn’t eat lunch today,” he said, slipping off his suit jacket.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I didn’t.” You only just realized how hollow your stomach felt.

“I’ll make something for you,” he offered.

You turned your head slowly on the couch, eyeing him skeptically. “You cook?”

“I’m not the best,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “But I make the best fried abalone you’ll ever taste.”

“Really…” you said, doubt dripping from your tone.

He cracked a grin. “You’ll see.”

Turns out he did make the best butter-fried abalones you’d ever tasted. And this was coming from someone who’d always been on the fence about seafood. You scraped your plate nearly clean, only stopping when you realized licking it would cross some sort of line.

You let out a blissed sigh. “This food just fucked me and sucked me good.”

Sunghoon paused mid-bite, eyes flicking up with a look of disbelief and amusement. “I’ve never had my cooking reviewed quite like that.”

You laughed, patting your stomach happily. “No, seriously. If I knew you could cook like this, I would’ve locked you up in my apartment weeks ago.”

He set down his chopsticks, grinning. “Oh yeah? Tell me more about this scenario.”

“I’m not joking! I’ve basically been living off ramen and fast food for months. Half the time I barely manage a smoothie before work.”

He tilted his head, giving you a look that was half playful, half serious. “That won’t do. Especially if…” His gaze slid to your stomach and stayed there, almost protectively. “If you really are pregnant, you’re going to need proper meals.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the image of a domestic Sunghoon cooking in your kitchen, massaging your sore feet, texting you pictures of baby onesies, reading articles about parenting and sending you dumb memes about fatherhood. 

Stop. You can’t do this to yourself.

Even if you were pregnant, that didn’t mean you’d suddenly fall in love and ride off into a pastel colored domestic fantasy with Park Sunghoon. You barely tolerated each other just a few months ago. You couldn’t afford to forget that.

You shook your head with a weak laugh. “I can’t believe this is happening. If you’d told me last year I’d be having a pregnancy scare with my boss… the same boss who made me bite my nails bloody from stress, I would’ve died laughing.”

Sunghoon’s smile faded a bit as he mulled that over. “I’m sorry for treating you that way.” 

You looked up, surprised by the earnestness in his voice.

“I mean it. I… I don’t really have an excuse. But if I had to give you one, I guess it’s because I wanted your attention.”

You blinked, surprised. “You wanted my attention?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know I went about it the absolute worst way, but I’ve never really been good at… expressing things. And you were so closed off to me at first. It felt like the only way I could get you to even look at me was to—well, be an asshole.”

You weren’t sure what to say. His apology wasn’t perfect, but it was genuine and oddly vulnerable. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” you said at last. “But… thank you for being here.”

He met your eyes. “Whatever the result is, you won’t handle it alone. I mean that.”

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind spun through a reel of possible futures—some terrifying, some strangely sweet, all overwhelming. By sunrise, you’d already been awake for hours, lying in bed with Richard stretched across your ankles, thinking about what the day might bring.

You moved through your morning routine on autopilot, barely tasting your coffee, feeling your nerves build with every tick of the clock. Work had never seemed so impossible. How were you supposed to focus on emails and deadlines when your entire life could be about to change?

By the time you arrived at the office, the overhead lights felt too bright and the air too cold. You kept your head down, clutching your bag a little tighter than usual as you made your way to your desk.

Sunghoon walked in a few minutes after you. You’d agreed to arrive separately to keep things from looking suspicious but even so, when he passed your desk, his eyes couldn’t help but flick your way for just a moment.

You tried to lose yourself in your work so the day would go basted, but it didn’t work. Every ping from your computer made you jump. Every time someone said your name, your heart pounded.

Mina, your coworker, leaned over the divider. “Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

You offered a thin smile. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.”

She nodded, not pressing, but you could feel her worry lingering as she turned back to her monitor. You wished you could tell her. The secret felt too big to hold, like it might crack open and spill everywhere at any moment.

A few hours later, as you were rereading the same email for the third time, you felt someone pause beside your desk. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Can I see you in my office?” Sunghoon’s voice was soft enough that only you could hear.

You followed him. The short walk down the hallway felt impossibly long, every step echoing your anxiety. When the door closed behind you, the world shrank to just the two of you.

He didn’t go behind his desk but leaned back against the edge, watching you for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

It was a simple question, but it nearly broke you. You looked away, blinking fast. “Nervous… and tired. I barely slept.”

He nodded, hands fidgeting with the edge of the desk. “Me too.” A pause. “I kept thinking about a lot of things.”

You looked at him then. He looked tired too, circles under his eyes, the usual sharpness of his appearance dulled by something softer. “I thought about a lot of things too,” you admitted quietly. “What if I am? What if I’m not? I can’t even figure out what I want to happen.”

He let out a slow breath. “Me neither. I used to think I’d hate the idea… you know, of being responsible for someone else, losing control over my own life. But the last couple days… it’s been all I can think about. I keep imagining what it would be like.”

There was a long silence. You watched the morning light creep across his office, a bright line cutting between you on the floor.

“But no matter what happens at that appointment, I want you to know I’m here. I mean it. I know I’ve been an asshole before, but I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt something tight in your chest loosen just a little.

“Thank you,” you said, meaning it more than you thought possible.

You stood there, both of you, caught in a moment that felt both terrifying and fragile and knowing the day ahead would change everything, one way or another.

By the time you left the office, the sky was navy. You walked the two blocks to the clinic in near silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Rather, it felt like gathering strength. Halfway there, Sunghoon slipped his fingers between yours.

You paused in front of the clinic, breaths streaming white in the cold air. Inside waited an envelope with your name and a single line of text that could redraw your future.

Sunghoon rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. “Ready?”

You looked up at him. The sharp boss, the reluctant cook, the man who’d stayed when he could have run—all in one complicated silhouette. 

You inhaled, exhaled, and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

The clinic’s waiting room was almost empty this late in the evening. A muted newscast flickered across a wall-mounted TV; the only other patient was a teen scrolling on her phone. You and Sunghoon sat in the far corner, coats draped over your laps, hands still laced together. Every tick of the reception clock seemed amplified.

You tried counting your breaths—four in, four out—but your pulse wouldn’t slow. If it’s positive, life will change tonight.Strangely, the thought no longer panicked you as it had twenty-four hours ago. Sunghoon’s steady grip helped anchor that.

A nurse finally appeared and called your name. You rose; he rose with you. She led you down a short hallway into a small consultation room, pastel posters about prenatal vitamins on the walls. A moment later Dr. Han entered with a file—your file—clasped to her chest. She greeted you both with the same gentle warmth as the day before and took a seat opposite.

You could feel Sunghoon’s thumb tracing a slow circle over your knuckles. He was outwardly calm, but his hand was slightly clammy.

Dr. Han opened the folder. “Good evening. I have the results of your quantitative hCG test.” She looked up, meeting your gaze first, then Sunghoon’s. “It’s negative. You’re not pregnant.”

The words settled like falling snow—soft, definitive, almost silent. For a heartbeat you simply stared, processing. Not pregnant. Relief rushed in, light and dizzying… and then something else, a bittersweet pang that surprised you.

Sunghoon exhaled so slowly you felt it more than heard it. He squeezed your hand once, gently. There was no visible disappointment or joy—just that same grounded steadiness he’d shown all day.

Dr. Han continued, explaining the false positives. “They can happen for a few reasons: chemical pregnancies that end very early, residual hCG from a recent miscarriage, certain fertility medications, even test strips that have degraded in storage. Urine tests are convenient, but they’re not infallible. Your bloodwork is conclusive, though—there’s no ongoing pregnancy.”

You nodded, swallowing. “Thank you for explaining.”

She offered a reassuring smile, discussed cycle-tracking apps, suggested a follow-up if your period remained irregular, and then excused herself. When the door clicked shut, you finally let your shoulders drop.

Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear. The gesture was so tender it made your throat ache.

“So,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper, “no baby.”

“No baby,” he echoed softly.

You waited for the wave of relief to crest. It did—but it carried an undertow of unexpected wistfulness. You glanced at him, searching his face for clues. He met your eyes and seemed to read the question there.

“I thought I’d feel only relief,” he admitted, tone quiet, honest. “But I… don’t. Not entirely.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Me either. How weird is that?”

He stepped closer, still holding your hand, his other palm settling warm against your cheek. “Maybe it’s not weird,” he said. “These last few days… thinking about what might happen. It made me see things differently.”

You felt tears prick but didn’t look away. “Differently how?”

He drew a steady breath, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, almost shy smile—an expression you’d never thought possible on Park Sunghoon. “I realized I want more than late-night reports and stress-induced hookups. I want… an us.Maybe a house that smells like butter-fried abalones,”—the smile widened when you laughed—“and maybe, someday, an actual crib. Not because we panicked into it, but because we chose it together.”

Your heart thudded, a warm bloom spreading through your chest. “You’re serious?” you whispered.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He cupped both hands around your face now, thumb brushing the skin under your eye. “I’ve always been good at work and terrible at feelings. You make me want to fix the second part.”

You covered his hands with yours. “I want that too,” you said, the truth ringing clear once you spoke it. “I want to see what us looks like when it’s not tangled up in deadlines and copy-room insanity.”

He kissed your forehead softly then rested his own against it. “Then we start slow. We can go on real dates, have real conversations.” A wry grin tugged at his lips. “And maybe slightly fewer vibrating toys at the office.”

You laughed, leaning into him, feeling lighter than you had in months. “Deal. Although the toys are negotiable.”

“Good.” He kissed you properly this time, full of promise rather than urgency. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Great,” he said, entwining your fingers as you headed for the door. “Because I’ve been perfecting my abalone recipe.”

“Is that so?” you teased, bumping his shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to lock you in my kitchen for real then.”

His laugh echoed down the hallway, and you felt the future open wide.

Epilogue- 8 Months Later

You sat perched on the padded table, swinging your feet lightly, dressed in a pale blue smock. Your hands were folded over your barely-there bump.

You were twelve weeks along.

Sunghoon was sitting in the chair beside you, one leg crossed over the other, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Despite the long day at work, he didn’t look tired. If anything, he looked anxious. 

“I still don’t get how it happened this fast,” you muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at him. “We were careful.”

He shrugged, lips tugging into a small smile. “Were we? I remember at least two times that we definitely weren’t.”

“Two?” You blinked. “I can name at least four.”

He laughed softly, leaning closer and resting his hand against your belly. “Well. One of them worked.”

The nurse came in, breaking the moment. “Doctor Han will be in shortly to do your first ultrasound,” she said kindly. “You’ll be able to hear the heartbeat today.”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. You reached out and took his hand without looking. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, but the word cracked slightly. “I just… hearing it makes it real.”

You squeezed his hand. “It is real.”

He nodded once. “I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless.”

You turned to him, voice gentle. “Me too, but we have each other.”

He brought your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Always.”

The doctor arrived shortly after, warm and chatty as always. You laid back on the table and pulled the gown open. The cold jelly over your stomach made you jolt. Sunghoon stood by your side, fingers still laced in yours, eyes glued to the screen scared that he might miss it if he blinked.

And then there it was. A grainy flicker, pulsing steadily in the center of the screen.

“That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor said with a small smile. “It sounds strong and regular. Everything looks perfect.”

The sound filled the room like thunder. Tiny, rapid thuds that made your chest swell. You blinked fast, swallowing the lump in your throat. When you looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were glassy.

He was crying. Not a lot—just one tear, maybe two—but the sight floored you.

He didn’t say a word. Just leaned down and kissed your forehead, staying there for a long second, breathing you in.

Later, in the car, he reached for your hand again and said quietly, “I don’t think I knew what love really felt like until now.”

You looked over, a bit surprised. “Because of the baby?”

“Because of you,” he said. “And now… both of you.”

You turned your face toward the window, hiding the stupid smile curling on your lips, blinking fast again.

At home, Richard sat perched on the windowsill as usual like a little orange gargoyle. When you kicked off your shoes, he jumped down and padded over to inspect you.

Sunghoon leaned in from behind, resting both hands over your stomach. “Alright, Richard. You’d better get used to sharing her.”

Richard meowed.

You smiled. “That sounded like reluctant acceptance to me.”

“Good enough,” Sunghoon murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

The house felt warm and safe. There were butter abalones in the microwave and ultrasound photos on the kitchen counter.

And for the first time in your life, waiting didn’t feel scary.

feedback is always appreciated! <3 tysm for reading

[ikeuwoniee]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐞

➜ summary: you ask jake to teach you how to flirt so jay will notice you. he says yes...despite having a 10 year crush on you

pairing: sjy/jake x f!reader,wc: 13k words , genre: friends to lovers, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

If someone asked you what Jake Sim smells like, you’d say a spoonful of ego, a dash of overpriced cologne samples he steals from Sephora, and a hint...just a hint of asshole. You’ve known him since you were six and he tried to sell you your own eraser for a dollar. You called him a scammer and well, he called you stupid for not realising it sooner.

It’s only been downhill ever since.

You grew up with him through scraped knees, schoolyard brawls, and the terrifying year he thought bleach blonde hair made him look like Draco Malfoy. It didn’t. Made him look like a surfer dude, probably named, Todd. 

In middle school, he once convinced your entire class that you’d peed your pants during dodgeball. Naturally, you got your revenge by hacking into his Habbo account and stealing all his hard-earned furniture. He didn’t speak to you for a week…though you framed the silent treatment as “the best week of your life.” He jumped on you and tried to strangle you with his bare hands before you kicked him in the groin. The two of you had to be pulled apart by your parents and forced to kiss and make up.

But then again… you were also the only one there when his pet turtle died. He went through four tissue boxes, wiping away tears over the early death of his beloved friend, Sheldon. You stood beside him in his backyard, both dressed in black, as he solemnly lowered the shoebox coffin into the soil. You played Auld Lang Syne on the recorder because Jake, with tears in his eyes and dirt under his fingernails, insisted it was what Sheldon “would have wanted.” 

And then there was that one time in algebra class when you got bored. You sat behind him in the class, and thought you’d try your hand at hairstyling…with actual scissors. He went home with a bald patch the size of a nickel and didn’t let you live it down. He cried. You laughed which obviously made him scream bloody murder. You only laughed harder. 

That night, instead of letting it go like a normal person, he stood by his bedroom window which was exactly three feet away from yours and started launching tiny pebbles at your glass. Every ten seconds. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

You tried to ignore it. Stuffed your head under a pillow. But by the twentieth pebble, you yanked your window open and glared at him across the narrow gap between your houses.

“God’s sake, Yun, it’s midnight.”

He didn’t even flinch. Just pointed dramatically at the back of his head like he was presenting a war wound. “I've bald patch because of you!” he whisper-shouted, so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

You felt bad. Only a little though. So you didn’t yell when he kept throwing pebbles until sunrise. You just stuffed your head under the pillow and endured it. Because that’s what Jake Sim was…an unavoidable constant. Just like those darn pebbles.

–

The two of you sat in your respective rooms, windows wide open. You were blasting your music loud enough for the bass to shake his desk lamp, and he didn't even complain. If anything, he hummed along.

Jake was sprawled in his desk chair, legs kicked up, pencil spinning between his fingers. “What’d you get for number six?” he called out.

You didn’t even look up. “I’m not gonna tell you.”

He scoffed. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re not gonna learn if I just give you the answer,” you replied, circling something on your worksheet just to look busy.

“Oh please, you get worse grades than I do.”

You whipped your head toward your window. “That was one time.”

“You mean multiple times, dumbass.” He leaned forward, smug. “Don’t make me pull out the receipts. Midterms, Chemistry quiz, that one math test you didn’t even finish—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” you groaned, chucking an eraser in his general direction. It bounced off the wall beside his window and dropped harmlessly into the space between.

Jake grinned like he’d just won something. “You’re so aggressive. No wonder Jay won’t look at you.”

You froze.

“What is that supposed to fucking mean?”

“Oh, come on,” he said, unabashed. “You don’t think I notice the way you look at him? It’s painfully obvious.”

You scowled. “You’re such a dick.”

He smirked. “Relax. I know you like the back of my hand, Bun.”

Your eye twitched. “The nickname's getting old. Retire it”

“No, it's not. It's a national treasure.”

“I was six,” you snapped.

“And yet so confident. ‘Jaebun! Jaebun!’” He mimicked your childhood voice with alarming accuracy. 

You muttered, “Should’ve gone with dumbass instead.”

“Too late.” he said cheerfully.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Since you claim to know me so well, when’s my birthday?”

He didn’t even blink, answering you in less than a second.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “...Lucky guess.”

He leaned back in his chair, smug as ever. “Try me again.”

“What’s my favourite colour?”

“Trick question,” he said immediately. “You don’t have one. You once said colours were 'capitalist scams to sell more color pencils’”

You stared at him.

He shrugged. “I listen. Unfortunately.”

You grabbed a pen and pointed it at him like a threat. “Say ‘Bun’ again and I’m glueing your locker shut tomorrow.”

He only grinned wider. “Sure thing, Bun.”

–

Jake wasn’t wrong. You did perhaps have the tiniest crush on Jongseong and it wasn’t like you had crushes all the time. In fact, you barely had any. You were too busy…in your own little world. 

Besides, Jongseong was different. He was quiet but warm, always smiling. Sure, you didn’t really know him but you could, if only he ever looked in your direction.

But he didn’t. Well, not specifically at you. He was nice to everyone. That was part of his charm.

The thing was, Jongseong only seemed to date girls who were everything you weren’t. The kind who wore frilly dresses and tiny skirts, who always smelled like some kind of floral mist. The girls who sat with their ankles crossed and giggled behind their hands. The girls whose hair was always curled and upright. The ones who never cussed.

You, on the other hand, lived in Jake’s old hoodie, the one he tossed at you when you were shivering so you’d stop shaking the bed. You never gave it back, and he never asked.

You sat with one leg propped up. You swore like a sailor and forgot lip balm existed. Your lips peeled constantly, sometimes dotted with dried blood from the sheer lack of moisture.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with being girly…it just wasn’t you.

You so badly wanted to be.

But you didn’t think you could pull it off.

You weren’t that girl.

You were never going to be that girl.

Or… so you thought.

—

It happened on a Tuesday.

You and Jongseong had been assigned to the same bio project, which, for the record, you took as a cosmic sign that fate was finally giving you a win. He’d come over to ask you something and you’d tried to hold an actual conversation with him while pretending you weren’t breaking into a nervous sweat.

It was going well. You thought it was going well. You were almost funny.

And then it happened. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it.

A girl, pretty, with soft makeup and a sundress, waved at him from the lockers. He glanced over. 

There was a flicker in his eyes. Something subtle. Something you couldn’t quite describe. But you caught it. Something you’d never been on the receiving end of.

He looked back at you and kept smiling. The same smile he gave the lunch lady. The janitor. It wasn’t attraction. It was…niceness. Jongseong was just being nice.

And for some reason, that wrecked you.

–

The lunch line crawled forward at a snail’s pace, the dull clatter of trays and scraping chairs echoing through the cafeteria. You stood still, half-slumped over your plastic tray, caught in the kind of daze that wasn’t sleepy so much as indifferent.

You stared blankly ahead, shoulders hunched. Your hoodie sleeves hung past your wrists, fingers tugging at the frayed edge while the smell of overcooked rice and some kind of mystery soup drifted around you. You barely noticed the guy who cut in front of you until his tray knocked against yours, loud and careless.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t see you.

A hot senior. One of those boys who walked through life like it was a fuckin’ breeze and perhaps it was for him.

You sighed through your nose, small and bitter, eyes flicking instinctively to the other side of the cafeteria.

There he was.

Park Jongseong, laughing with his friends at their usual table by the windows. His perfect hair, his clean white shirt collar poking out of his sweater.

Why would someone like Jongseong ever court someone like you?

You dropped your gaze quickly, heat rising up your neck for no reason at all. Just in time for the cafeteria auntie to scoop a mound of fried noodles onto your tray.

You trudged toward your usual table, trying to hold the tray steady with numb fingers. Ni-ki and Sunoo were already seated, arguing about something stupid. Their voices bubbled in the background, warm and alive, but you barely heard them. You moved on autopilot.

And then your eyes wandered again.

A few tables down, Jake had his arms draped over the shoulders of some girl you didn’t recognize by name, but had definitely seen hovering around him during gym. Her nails were perfect. Hair curled. Really pretty.

Sunghoon said something, and their table erupted in laughter. Jake leaned in, grin sharp and stupidly attractive, fingers squeezing the girl’s shoulder like it was second nature. She turned her face toward his without missing a beat and kissed his cheek. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

You blinked.

Your grip on your fork tightened slightly.

Of course Mr. Resident Playboy was surrounded by affection, by attention, by options. While you sat here picking at your noodles, heart full of things you wouldn’t dare say out loud, mourning the simple, brutal truth:

You weren’t anybody’s type.

Not Jongseong’s.

Not anyone’s.

And definitely not Jake’s.

–

That night, you stood in front of your mirror, hoodie sleeves tugged over your palms, joggers slouching low on your hips. You weren’t sad, exactly. Just… tired. Of being invisible. Of blending into the background in every hallway. Of being the kind of person people looked through, never at.

Your gaze scanned your reflection. Slouched posture. That faint acne scar near your cheekbone. The uneven hair you barely brushed unless someone nagged you. There was nothing extraordinary about the person staring back. And yet, all you could think about was the way Jongseong had looked at her.

Not just looked…seen. That quiet, effortless kind of attention. Like she wasn’t just beautiful. She mattered. Like the world bent slightly in her direction just to be closer. You wanted that. 

So you did the unthinkable.

You unlocked your window and slid it open, the humid night air brushing your skin. The three-foot gap between your houses had always felt insignificant—just years of shared childhood, unfinished arguments, and mutual pranks. You leaned out, scanning the opposite window.

“Yun,” you called softly.

No answer.

You stared a little longer before scooping up a small pebble from the ledge and flicking it against his window with a soft click.

Still nothing.

Of course. He was probably gaming again, headset on, screaming profanities at preteens while Park Sunghoon made terrible jokes in the background. You groaned, fished out your phone, and tapped his name.

It rang once.

“What?” Jake answered, already sounding irritated.

You exhaled. “Open your damn window.”

He hung up.

You blinked at your screen, jaw slack. “Asshole,” you muttered, arms crossed as you stared at his dark window.

A full minute passed. Then, the curtains shifted and his window creaked open. Jake leaned out lazily, resting his forearms on the sill. His hair was messy, and he looked like he’d just rolled off his bed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was mid-shit.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. Of course. He always said things like that. Because he didn’t see you like that. You weren’t a girl in his eyes. Just you. And even if you didn’t like Jake like that, it still stung more than it should’ve.

Your fingers gripped your window ledge tighter.

“Yun,” you tried again, voice lower now, more vulnerable. “I need your help.”

Jake squinted across the narrow space between your windows, “Sup?”

You hovered near the edge of your bed, fingers curling into the blanket. The words clung to your throat like they didn’t want to be let out. “I, uh…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows pulling together. “You what?”

You looked away, suddenly regretting saying anything at all.

Jake let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Dude. Just spit it out. You’re stressing me out.”

Your voice came out smaller than you intended. “I want you to teach me how to be a girl.”

He blinked before scoffing, “Stop fuckin’ around. I’m in a Fortnite lobby with Sunghoon. I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not fucking around.” Your breath hitched slightly. You didn’t mean to sound dramatic, but you couldn’t help it.

Jake leaned farther out the window, his legs swinging carelessly over the edge as he peered at you like he was trying to read your face. “You’re insane.”

“How am I insane?”

“You’re already a…a girl.”

You crossed your arms. “Just ten minutes ago, you told me you took a big fat shit.”

“So? I always say that kind of stuff to you.”

“Exactly. Now, would you say that to the hot girls you’re trying to flirt with?”

“No, but that—”

“No,” you cut in sharply. “You wouldn’t. And that means…”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That means what?”

“That means you don’t see me as a…” Your voice softened to a whisper. “Woman.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Well, I clearly do now. You’re acting like you’re on your period.”

You grabbed a ping pong ball from your nightstand and lobbed it at his head. It bounced off his temple with a soft thwack.

“OW—?” he recoiled, rubbing the spot. “What the hell?”

“You practically asked for it,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jake sighed, shifting to sit properly on his window ledge, feet dangling as he leaned his head against the frame. “Is this about… your crush on…uh…Jongseong?”

You said nothing. Just stared at your blanket.

Jake let out a low laugh. “It is, isn’t it? Why do you wanna change anyway? You're fine the way you are...just like this.”

"I don't wanna be just—"

"God, you are such a girl."

“If you’re gonna be an asshole about it, I’m—”

“You’re gonna what? Threaten me even though I know your biggest, darkest secret?”

You scoffed, arms tightening across your chest. “Fine. You win. Like always. You get the girls you want, the friends, the popularity. You get everything, Jaeyun.”

Jake let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, except it wasn’t. “You think I get what I want? You are sorely mistaken because–”

He paused. His eyes flicked to you. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but he shut it just as fast and shook his head. “Doesn’t even matter.”

You didn’t press him. You figured it’d be something sarcastic or gross anyway.

“Yun…” You bit your lip. “You don’t know what it’s like. Knowing people don’t look at you the way you want them to. I don’t mind being invisible. I don’t mind being forgettable. But sometimes it just sucks. Watching people flirt with girls like they’re the only ones worth looking at. And I’m not. This is stupid but it’s just–”

“It’s really funny you think that way.” He said, laughing almost bitterly before he shook his head. 

The room fell into silence. Jake didn’t say anything for a while.

“Look, if I help you, will you shut up about this cringey bullshit?” He spoke again.

You looked up. A slow smile tugged at your lips. “You’ll help?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m the person you’re asking.”

“You’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

He stilled.

And that, more than anything, made Jake stop and think.

–

Jake hated Wednesdays.

He hated the long hours, the after school academy his mom sends him to, the way the fluorescent lights in the academy made his eyes ache by the second hour. Everyone there moved like machines, quiet, efficient, terrifyingly focused. He didn’t know anyone, and no one cared to know him.Just equations and deadlines and that one girl who once cried during a physics mock.

But one thing made it bearable.

You.

Same academy, different class. Same hell, different schedule. But you always ended up outside the gates at exactly 9 p.m., when his last class ended.

He saw you before he felt the wind, your figure under the yellow glow of the streetlamp, head bowed, nose buried in a half-crumpled chemistry textbook. Your bag hung off one shoulder, your cardigan sleeves pushed up, revealing ink-stained wrists. You were walking slowly, lips moving like you were mouthing formulas, completely oblivious to the world around you.

Jake watched for a second, letting the cold bite his cheeks.

He adjusted his hoodie and jogged up to meet you, as he always did, no hello, no warning, just bumped your shoulder lightly with his.

You blinked up from your book, startled, “Jesus fu—Jaeyun. You scared me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you wait for me up front?”

“I wanted to get the last hotteok before the shop closed,” you said, pointing ahead.

“Without me?”

“You always take your time, and I got lazy.” You rolled your eyes and snapped your book shut, fumbling to shove it back into your bag.

Jake scoffed, reaching over to grab the book from you. He slid it into your bag with ease. “What makes you think I didn’t want any?”

“I was gonna get you one and pass it to you through the window,” you muttered.

Jake grinned. “How sweet.”

 “Don’t push it.”

“Why the sudden generosity?” Jake asked, giving you a sideways glance as the two of you continued walking under the soft orange glow of the streetlights. The path curved through the park, quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves.

You hesitated. “Last night—” You swallowed hard. “I… I was in a rut. And I didn’t really mean for you to, you know, teach me how to be a girl. I think I was just...spiralling."

Jake didn’t say anything, but he slowed a little, turning just slightly toward you.

“You were right,” you went on, hugging your arms around yourself. “I am a girl. And I don’t have to… change who I am to be with Jongseong.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Glad you finally see it my way.”

“But…” You stopped walking, spinning to face him as you pointed a finger at his chest. “I do want to change my request.”

Jake groaned, head tipping back as he rolled his eyes. “What now?”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, fingers fidgeting at the sleeves of your cardigan. The words got stuck in your throat. You looked anywhere but him, your shoes, the tree beside you, the flickering street lamp overhead.

“If you’re not gonna teach me how to be girlier…” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, “could you at least teach me how to…”

There was a pause. Your hands made vague, awkward motions in the air. Jake just stood there, waiting, arms folded, eyebrow raised, looking far too amused.

“What?”

You looked up at him, cheeks burning. “Could you teach me how to… flirt?”

Jake blinked. “You want…me to teach you how to flirt?”

His voice cracked…barely, but enough to make your shoulders tense.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted. The corners of his mouth twitched. His brows lifted, eyes lighting up. You knew he was about to say something incredibly annoying.

“Oh.” He took a step closer, head tilted, grin spreading wide. “Oh. Flirting, huh…”

You immediately regretted speaking. “Don’t make it weird, Jake.”

“Too late,” he said, voice practically gleeful. “So do you call me Mr. Sim now? I have a small whiteboard at home. I could bring it over tomorrow. Maybe some flashcards—OW!”

You smacked his arm, sharp and fast. He flinched back, laughing as he rubbed the spot you hit.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, spinning on your heel. Your pace picked up, arms crossed tight over your chest as your bag bounced against your side with each frustrated step.

Jake was still laughing behind you, low and amused. You could hear the gravel crunch under his sneakers as he jogged to catch up.

“Bun, come on,” he called, still breathless with laughter. “Don’t be like that. I’ll stop. I swear.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even slow down.

Jake finally caught up, matching your stride as he nudged your arm with his elbow, more gentle this time. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

You glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He nodded, gaze fixed ahead now, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets. His grin was still there but a little softer, a little less smug.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

And though he kept smiling, though he bumped your shoulder again like everything was fine, something tugged quietly at the edge of his chest.

–

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Jake had insisted your “first official lesson” take place at a café just down the street from school.

You sat across from him at a window seat, fingers wrapped awkwardly around a lukewarm latte while Jake leaned back in his chair, legs spread, one arm slung casually across the backrest.

“Alright,” he said, tapping the side of his cup with a spoon. “First target locked. Look at that guy over there.”

You followed his nod toward a boy near the counter. He had dark hair that curled just slightly at the nape of his neck, a clean, sharp profile, and a navy windbreaker slung effortlessly over a white tee. He was scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing toward the barista with a faint, almost unreadable smile. 

“Ooh, he’s kinda cute,” you murmured, straightening a little in your seat.

Jake blinked before shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. New target.”

“What? Why?” you frowned.

“He… he doesn’t seem nice,” Jake muttered, picking up his drink and deliberately looking away.

You squinted at him. “He seems totally nice. Mysterious, sure, but definitely polite.”

Jake scoffed under his breath. “You don’t know men.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you do?”

“I am one,” he snapped, scanning the room again like a snob. 

“You are? Didn’t notice.”

Jake frowned, ignoring your comment. A second later, he pointed toward a guy near the pastry shelf. “That guy.”

You followed his gaze again, but you were still stuck on the first one.

“…He’s not even cute,” you said flatly.

Jake didn’t look at you. “Exactly, so ask him out.”

“But he’s not even–”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and cut you off. “Look, we’re here to boost your confidence. It’s not gonna be a sure thing, so start small.”

“Fine,” you muttered, folding your arms. After a beat, you turned to him. “Do I look okay?”

Your hair was down for once, soft waves brushing just past your shoulders. You’d run a brush through it and tucked one side neatly behind your ear. Your skin had that subtle glow, not from makeup really, but from actually washing your face and maybe using that tinted sunscreen your friend, Sunoo, swore by.

That even Jake had done a double take when you opened the front door. He’d blinked, eyes flicking from your hair to your blouse like his brain couldn’t compute what he was seeing. 

EARLIER THAT DAY

Jake showed up five minutes early, as usual, slouching on your porch with his phone in hand. He didn’t bother knocking…he never had to. He was practically part of the house by now. The front door swung open before he could even reach for the handle. “Oh, Jaeyun,” your mom greeted with a knowing smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You’re early today.” Jake grinned. “Just a little. Didn’t wanna get yelled at for being late.” She laughed and stepped aside to let him in. “She’s taking a bit long today. Not too sure why.” He kicked off his shoes and followed her into the entryway, glancing up the stairs. “It’s fine, I can wait.” Your mom raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “I mean…sure. But she usually doesn’t take this long. She’s been up getting ready for two hours.” Jake nearly choked. “Two hours?” Before your mom could answer, your voice floated from upstairs. “Is Jake here, Mom?” “Just arrived!” she called back. Jake leaned against the banister, still puzzled. He could hear your footsteps now. Then you appeared at the top of the stairs. He paused. Your hair was down. Like, fully down. He hadn’t seen that since you were twelve and you’d cut your own bangs in a bathroom mirror. It was longer now, softer, brushed neatly around your shoulders. You wore a pink blouse with tiny buttons and puffed sleeves, cinched just slightly at the waist. It hugged your frame in a way none of your hoodies ever had. Paired with a white skirt and sneakers that didn’t look like they’d survived through hell and back, for once, you looked… polished.  His heart stuttered. Jake cleared his throat, eyes trailing over you as you stepped down the stairs. “You look… different.” You froze mid-step, one foot hovering slightly above the next stair, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Different good? Different bad? God, I knew I shouldn’t have followed that stupid Pinterest board. It said ‘cute girl outfits’ and I just assumed—” “I didn’t even say—” “Oh my God, I do look stupid.” You looked down at yourself in dismay, tugging at the hem of your skirt. “God, Bun,” Jake muttered, already striding up the steps toward you. He reached out, exasperated but weirdly gentle, and slapped a hand over your mouth. “Let me fuckin' speak,” he said, voice low and a little too sincere for comfort. “You look good. Now shut up.” And his hand lingered for just a second too long before he seemed to realise what he was doing and stepped back.

PRESENT

His gaze dragged from your eyes to your mouth, then darted away too fast, like he’d been caught staring. “Yeah, you look fine” he said, nodding once, maybe a little too firmly.

You frowned. “Are you sure?”

Digging into your pocket, you pulled out a tube of gloss and held it up. “Do I need more lip gloss? I saw this TikTok? Apparently these are, like, really in right now.”

You leaned toward the window as you dabbed it on, lips pressing together with a soft smack. Then you turned back to him. “Better?”

Jake swallowed. His jaw twitched.

He turned back toward the window a beat too quickly, pretending to scan the crowd like he hadn’t heard you. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice dipping low. “You look fine.”

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

He groaned. “What the hell do you want me to say?”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. So what do I do now, Mr. Sim?”

He cleared his throat, straightening up. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping just a notch as he shifted gears.

“Well… one thing about guys is that they’re simple. They like to be complimented.”

You raised a brow. “Are they dogs?”

“Not gonna lie, they tend to be,” Jake snorted. “Anyway, since your hair’s already down… you could just—”

His hand moved before your brain could catch up. Fingers brushing lightly behind your ear as he tucked a loose strand of hair back.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t pull away immediately, just hovered there, close enough that you could smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, unreadable for half a second.

“Then,” he said, voice lower now, “just flick your hair over your shoulder when you laugh. It’ll drive him crazy. Trust me.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”

Jake stepped back, giving a short, almost nervous laugh. “Alright. Let’s have a test run. Show me the flick. Let’s see if you’re ready.”

You blinked. “Now?”

“Yes now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Flip your hair. Then bat your eyelashes. Slowly.”

You gave him a long look. Then, trying to copy the motion, you awkwardly tossed your hair over your shoulder and blinked up at him, slightly exaggerated and incredibly mechanical.

Jake choked on his own breath. 

You gasped and smacked his arm. “Don’t be a fucking prick!”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he protested before bursting into laughter.

“You didn't have to!”

“It's not my fault you looked insane!”

“You told me to flip my hair and bat my lashes!”

“Yeah, I told you to do it normally. I didn’t tell you to give me crazy eyes.”

You crossed your arms, shoulders slumping. “I can’t do this. This is stupid.”

“Yes, you can,” Jake said firmly. “Now look at me. Try it again.”

You sighed, took a breath then did it.

Your fingers swept through your hair, flicking it over your shoulder in one fluid motion. You glanced up at him, wide-eyed, lashes fluttering with just enough hesitation to make it feel real. Your lips parted slightly, soft with a natural pout. And the soft blush on your cheeks—God. It made you look so much cuter than he was prepared for.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He didn't move. Didn't say a single thing.

Because somehow, in the middle of this dumb pretend flirting lesson, you’d accidentally knocked the wind out of him.

And you had no idea.

His mouth opened slightly but nothing came out. His heart stammered in his chest like it forgot how to beat properly. Fuck. You looked good doing whatever the hell that was.

Then you sighed. “Ugh. I looked ridiculous again, didn’t I? God, I’m such a mess—”

“No!” he blurted out, way too loud, making both of you jump. “You looked… fine. I think you’re ready.”

His voice cracked at the end. He turned his head like it would somehow hide it.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything.

“But… what do I even say to him?” you asked, your voice softer now, uncertain.

Jake cleared his throat, grounding himself. Right. This lesson wasn’t for him. It was for you. For Jongseong.

“Keep it simple,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep them steady. “Ask what he’s drinking. Compliment his shirt. Make eye contact. Smile. Then ask for his number.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Guys don’t need a Shakespearean monologue,” he added with a dry chuckle. “Just give them a reason to look twice.”

You took a deep breath and repeated to yourself, “Okay… I can do this. I can do this.”

Jake grinned, tossing back the rest of his drink like it was a toast. “You can. Knock ’em dead.”

You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans again. Useless. Your hands were still clammy, and your heart felt like it was sprinting laps in your chest.

You glared at him. “If I embarrass myself, I’m blaming you.”

“Can’t embarrass what’s already rock bottom,” he grinned.

You flipped him off but your legs still carried you across the café. You passed the actually cute guy Jake had vetoed and kept walking until you reached the guy Jake had actually pointed out.

He was okay. Not ugly, but his hair was gelled too flat, and his shirt had some ironic graphic that made you wince. He was tapping loudly on his phone, chewing gum. Still, he had decent shoulders. That was something.

You cleared your throat. “Hey.”

He looked up, blinked once like he was trying to figure out if he knew you,. “Hey.”

You gestured to his drink. “Is that the cold brew? I was gonna get one, but I panicked and got a hot chocolate instead.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Cold brew’s not bad. Keeps me awake for my 8ams, y’know?”

You forced a smile. “I’m the same way! I'm a totally different person without my morning coffee.”

He laughed. Good. Good. Great! Until it wasn't.

You flicked your hair back like Jake told you to, trying to make it look natural. It didn’t.

"What are you...doing?"

You immediately stopped, dropping your hands to your sides. Straightening up.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you added with what you thought was a flirty smile, “I love your elbows! They’re so…uh…pointy.”

The guy blinked. “Sorry—what?”

You laughed before panicking a little, “Like if you were ever robbed, you could probably stab the robber with your elbow.”

He was staring now, straw paused at his lips. “Uh–thanks?”

“Anyway!” you blurted. “I should—uh—my friend’s waiting. Bye.”

You turned and speed-walked back to your table. The moment you reached Jake, you crash-landed into the booth, practically throwing yourself onto his chest to hide your face.

Jake raised an eyebrow, then completely lost it, laughter spilling out before he gently pulled you closer, one hand sliding into your hair, the other resting lightly between your shoulder blades.

“Sim Jaeyun, I will kill you.” You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

He didn’t flinch. Just chuckled and eased you right back into him, his hand still idly moving through your hair. You could feel his laugh rumble beneath your cheek.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t follow one simple instruction,” he wheezed, voice light. “Flick hair. Speak words. That’s it.”

“He was clearly not interested,” you muttered, sitting up and crossing your arms.

Jake shrugged, finally catching his breath. “Then he probably doesn’t have good taste.”

You paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at you, blinking. “I mean—come on. You’re a total ten. And he’s like… a five. At best.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did you just… call me a ten?”

“Y–yeah,” Jake said quickly, already regretting it. “On the insane scale.” He winced slightly, like even he knew that didn’t make any real sense.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, “Can’t I just talk to the cute guy?”

Jake let out a sharp laugh, drumming his fingers against his cup. ���You couldn’t even string a sentence together for that guy, and now you wanna shoot your shot with the hot one?”

You leaned back against the booth with a dramatic sigh, one arm flung across the backrest. “If I’m gonna die of embarrassment, I’d rather die pretty.”

Jake snorted. “You’re gonna die delusional.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing with playful challenge. “Okay, then how about I practice on you?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I can’t practice on a hot guy. Too risky. And I already humiliated myself in front of the other one. So now I’m left with you.” You shrugged, like it was the most logical conclusion in the world. “Let me just see how it feels to flirt with someone I’m already comfortable with.”

Jake blinked again, visibly thrown. “And you think I’m the guy for that?”

“Yes,” you said, matter-of-factly. “Just treat me like one of those girls you’re always trying to impress.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You pouted, lips pulling into a dramatic curve. “Am I not your type?”

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“Then what is it?” you challenged. “Why can’t I just practice on you?”

“Fine! Fine—just shut up for a second.” His voice was low, tight before covering your mouth with his palm to shut you up. “Or… we could get Sunghoon to help.”

You froze, eyes narrowing against his palm.

“Fungfoon?” you repeated through his hand.

He removed it slowly.

“You mean that trash ass frat boy who can’t shut up for more than thirty seconds?”

Jake narrowed his eyes right back. “Sunghoon’s my best friend.”

“I don’t care?”

Not even ten minutes later, Sunghoon strolled into the café, hoodie sleeves half-rolled, a lollipop tucked between his lips. You gave him a slow side-eye as he approached your table.

It wasn’t that you hated Sunghoon. But the two of you bickered like a divorced couple whenever you were together. Maybe it was your clashing playstyles when you gamed together, he was a reckless, charge-in-without-a-plan kind of guy, and you were more methodical, strategic. Or maybe it was just the fact that if Jake wasn’t hanging out with him, he was with you and well, Sunghoon could be… territorial.

He dropped into the seat beside Jake, legs wide, completely unbothered. “Alright. What is this even about? Why am I here to help the Devil herself?”

“Reason isn’t important but,” Jake muttered, not even looking up from his drink. “We just need you to pretend you’re some guy she’s trying to flirt with.”

Sunghoon pulled the lollipop from his mouth, brows raised. “Ew. Why would I flirt with her?”

You scoffed. “Don’t be flattered. You were my last choice.”

He grinned. “Still made the cut though.”

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, straightening your posture. Okay. Practice round. You could do this.

You turned to face him, smile soft, lashes lowered just a little. “Hey,” you said, voice dipped slightly lower. “You look kinda familiar…”

Sunghoon smirked, playing along, finally meeting your eyes after ignoring you the whole minute he arrived. “Oh yeah? From where?”

You flicked your hair back, just like Jake told you to, letting it fall behind your shoulder.

And that’s when it happened.

Sunghoon blinked. His entire body paused for a beat like his brain lagged for half a second before catching up. He stared at you, eyes trailing from your mouth to your collarbone, then back up again.

There was a few seconds of silence before...

“Dude,” Sunghoon muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you again. “Did you do something to your hair? You look really good today.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, leaning in a little, arms folded casually on the table. His tone wasn’t exactly flirty, more like intrigued. “You look different. In a good way.”

Your brain went completely silent.

Not because it was flattering. But because it was Sunghoon.

“Are you calling me—”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m calling you pretty. I can’t believe I’m saying it either.”

You gawked at him. Mouth slightly open. Sunghoon looked at you like he was analysing a glitch in the matrix, brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face.

“Ew,” you said automatically, scrunching your nose. “I can’t believe you’d call me—wait. Hold on. I am?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, almost like he was confirming it for himself. “Totally. You’re just, like, glowing or whatever.”

“Well…” You sat up straighter. “I put on mascara. And some lip gloss.”

He was seeing you as a girl. Like...a girl girl. Not Jake’s best friend. Not the rando he was forced to game with when the squad was short one player.

You straightened slowly, crossing one leg over the other with a little more sway than necessary, letting your hair fall over one shoulder like a curtain. You tilted your head, gaze playful. “Well… maybe you’re just slow at noticing things.”

Sunghoon’s grin curled, his eyes dipped, lingering, and his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. “Or maybe you’ve been hiding that pretty face on purpose.”

You leaned in, elbows resting on the table, chin propped on your hand as your voice dropped to a murmur. “Or maybe you just never looked close enough.”

That did it. Sunghoon's posture straightened almost reflexively, and for half a second, he was visibly flustered, eyes flicking down again before darting back up to meet yours.

Across the table, Jake cleared his throat.

You didn’t even turn to look at him.

Jake slammed his hand on the table, not hard, but enough to rattle your water glass. “Alright. Lesson’s over.”

Sunghoon blinked. “What—why?”

Jake stood up, his jaw tight. “We’re done. Congrats. She flirts well. You’re dismissed.”

Sunghoon raised both brows. “I just got here.”

“You’re just back up, Hoon. She’s not actually trying to date you, dumbass.”

“But we so totally could though.” Sunghoon looked back at you, winking.

“Okay, we’re done here.” Jake stood up suddenly and grabbed Sunghoon by the arm. “Let’s go. Your turn’s over.”

“Chill,” Sunghoon said, laughing. “You jealous or something?”

Jake didn’t answer. Just pushed the door open and muttered, “Thanks for your service. You helped a ton.”

—

Yes. Okay, fine. Yes! Jake liked you.

He hated admitting it. Hated even thinking it.

But he did. He liked you.

The only person who knew? His mom. Or maybe Layla, his dog—if she actually understood English.

He’d liked you since the day you stood in his backyard, dressed in black, playing Auld Lang Syne on the recorder for his dead turtle. RIP Sheldon. You’re still missed.

But Jake was an idiot. As most boys are.

Somewhere along the way, his dumb boy brain decided the only logical way to get your attention was through relentless teasing and it stuck. It became a habit. Your thing.

Because, obviously, nothing says I like you like public humiliation.

Jake liked you with your hair up in that lazy bun you always wore. He liked you with it down, falling in soft, messy waves around your shoulders. He liked you when you were yelling profanities into your headset, and he liked you when you were quiet in your room, curled up with your knees to your chest, scribbling in that little diary you thought no one knew about.

He liked you when you were laughing so hard you snorted. And he liked you when you were trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

He never really understood why you wanted to change.

To him, you were already enough. You weren’t “boyish.” You weren’t “too girly.” You were just you. And to Jake, you had always been the point.

What mattered wasn’t how you looked. What mattered was that you were there.

So when he found out you liked Jongseong, he couldn’t even breathe for a second. It felt like ten million trains had flattened him right where he stood. But when he realised you didn’t just like him you were willing to change for him?

That broke something deep.

Because it meant you liked Jongseong enough to become someone else.

And Jake… Jake never wanted that.

But he had pride. Stupid, gnawing, heavy pride. And what made it worse, what buried the knife deeper, was knowing you’d never look at him that way.

Not the way you looked at Jongseong.

Not the way he looked at you.

Jake remembered one of his most recent so-called flings if you could even call them that.

To you, he was the local fuckboy. The guy who always had someone new to flirt with. You’d rolled your eyes every time he winked at someone, and he’d leaned into the reputation like it was armor.

But the truth was far messier.

Because somehow, the girls he messed around with… they always ended up knowing about you.

The last one, her name was Hyejin or maybe Hyerim, he couldn’t remember anymore, she ended up sitting next to him in her tiny apartment while he nursed a soda he didn’t want and tried not to cry.

“I just don’t get it,” he’d admitted, voice cracking a little. “I don’t know how to tell her I like her. And it’d be weird, right? If I suddenly just… said it?”

She’d looked at him, mascara slightly smudged from a long day, and tilted her head with a sigh. “Jake, you just have to be honest.”

He laughed at the time. “I can’t even be honest with myself.”

Jake swore there was nothing more humiliating than crying in front of a girl who he’d once tried to flirt with, only to have her comfort him about another girl entirely.

Worse than that?

She hugged him. Gave him her leftover tiramisu. And said, “I think she already knows. She just doesn’t know that you know.”

Jake sighed and leaned his forearm against the windowsill, the cool wood pressing into his skin as he looked across the short distance between your rooms. Your window was open again, curtains pulled halfway back.

You were lying on your stomach, half-buried in pillows, legs bent at the knees and swinging lazily in the air. Your phone was cradled in both hands, and every few seconds your shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Jake told himself he wasn’t watching. Just glancing.

He liked when your curtains were open. Not because he was trying to spy. It was more like… habit. You were always there, in that same spot, doing something normal and unbothered. Sometimes reading. Sometimes chewing on your pen while you worked. Sometimes yelling at your screen when your game crashed. He liked those quiet glimpses, the small, domestic pieces of you when you thought no one was watching.

From across the window, he could hear your soft giggle through the open night air.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he called out from his side of the room, voice echoing slightly against the concrete walls outside.

You turned your head, chin resting on your wrist. “It’s just... nothing.” Your lips curled again as you looked back at your screen.

Jake smiled, just a little, then pushed off the sill and crossed the room. His headset was still hanging from the corner of his chair. He grabbed it, sank down into the seat, and slid it over his ears.

“Hey, I’m back,” he muttered into the mic.

There was a short pause. “Hold on,” came Sunghoon’s voice. “I’m in the middle of something.”

Jake reached for his mouse, nodding to himself. “Kay.”

And then he heard it.

A soft, unmistakable ding echoed faintly from the room across the way. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch you laughing again. Your fingers moved quickly over your phone screen.

“Okay, I’m back,” Sunghoon said a few seconds later. He sounded amused.

Jake narrowed his eyes.

Another burst of laughter from your room. Another ding from Sunghoon’s mic. Then more quiet typing from your end. Another ping. Another laugh from Sunghoon.

Jake blinked at the screen in front of him. His hand was still resting on his mouse, unmoving.

Then he looked back out the window.

You were biting your bottom lip now, trying to suppress another laugh as you stared at your phone. Your shoulders were trembling again. You kicked your feet once, as if you couldn’t contain the energy anymore.

Sunghoon chuckled again in Jake’s ear.

The realization settled in slowly.

You were texting.

And not just texting anyone.

You were texting Sunghoon.

Jake leaned back in his chair, headset still snug over his ears, eyes locked on the warm glow pouring from your bedroom window. A breeze moved through the gap, rustling your curtain just enough for him to see your face again. You were smiling at your phone, soft and lit up in a way that made something in his chest tighten.

His grip on the mouse went slack.

“Are you texting her?” he asked, voice flat, low.

There was a pause on the other end of the mic.

“What? Who?” Sunghoon replied, feigning clueless.

Jake narrowed his eyes, staring now, not at his screen, but out the window, straight at you as your fingers danced over your phone screen. Another muffled laugh echoed through your open window.

“I can hear the two of you giggling like idiots,” Jake said.

Sunghoon let out a short laugh, not bothering to deny it. “Dude, what’s the matter with you? I can’t text her now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sunghoon replied. “You’ve been weird since the café. She looked cute today. I’m trying to shoot my shot.”

Jake sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “On my friend?”

There was a pause.

“Relax,” Sunghoon said, tone still light. “We’re just talking. Harmless flirting. Nothing disastrous. She knows me. She knows how I am.”

Jake didn’t answer.

His eyes drifted back to the window. You were still there, head bowed over your phone, smiling again at something that didn’t come from him.

“Whatever, man. I gotta go,” Jake muttered.

“What? We haven’t even played—”

“I forgot I had some homework to do.”

Before Sunghoon could reply, Jake clicked off. The headset hit the desk with a dull thud.

He stood quickly, crossed the room in a few long strides, yanked open his window, and grabbed the nearest thing on his desk…a ping pong ball. The very ping pong ball you threw at his head.

He tossed it with perfect aim.

It bounced cleanly off your forehead.

“OW—what the hell!” you yelped, looking up in disbelief, hand flying to your temple.

Jake leaned halfway out the window, one brow raised. “So now we know how that feels.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What was that for?”

“Stop texting Sunghoon.”

You sat up straighter. “What? Why? And how did you even know—”

“I could hear the gross, synchronized giggling. Cut it out.”

You crossed your arms, scowling. “You’re the one who told me I needed more confidence.”

“And you chose him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on. It’s not like he’d get hurt. I know how he is. He knows it’s just practice.”

Jake shook his head. “No. Not Sunghoon.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You were literally the one who told me to practice on him.”

“I take it back.”

“What?! We were finally getting into good banter and shit. Why are you—”

“You either stop texting him,” Jake said, voice dropping lower, “or I tell Jongseong your stupid secret.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?! Why would you—what does that even have to do with anything?!”

Jake didn’t answer.

But his grip on the windowsill had tightened, knuckles pale under the streetlight glow, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second.

“JUST STOP TEXTING HIM!”

–

The next day at school, Jake dragged himself through the crowded hallway, feet scuffing against the linoleum. His eyes were heavy with sleep he never got. Every time he closed them the night before, his brain had decided to play out an imaginary scenario where you and Sunghoon were holding hands in the cafeteria or kissing in front of the gym lockers.

It was enough to make him gag. If that ever actually happened, he was pretty sure he’d launch himself off the nearest cliff without hesitation.

He adjusted the strap of his backpack and yawned, turning the corner...

A hand tugged on his arm.

He blinked, looked down, and there you were. Standing in front of him with your brows knit together, that expression you always wore when you were trying to pretend you weren’t nervous.

“Bun?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

You let out a breath. “Look… I’m sorry for not telling you I texted Sunghoon yesterday.”

Jake shook his head. “I wasn’t mad because you didn’t tell me.”

“Then why were you—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut in, voice low. He glanced down at his shoes.

You tilted your head. “Didn’t seem like nothing. You were yelling, dry heaving, and threw a ping pong ball at my head.”

Jake gave a short scoff. “You threw one at me last week, so I don’t see why we’re keeping score.”

You smiled. “Touché.”

There was a moment of quiet between you, the hallway noise fading under the weight of whatever you were about to say. You rocked on your heels.

“So…” you started. “Promise you’re not gonna get mad at me?”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“Just—promise.”

Jake exhaled. “Fine. What?”

You hesitated for only a second. “Sunghoon asked me out.”

Jake stopped walking.

For a moment, it felt like the hallway went silent around him, like the crowd and noise and lockers all blurred into nothing. He couldn’t feel the weight of his bag anymore. Couldn’t hear the scrape of sneakers or the slam of doors down the corridor.

And then one very clear thought.

He was going to kill Park Sunghoon.

“I said no.”

His head snapped toward you. “Wait—what?”

You shrugged, casual, like you hadn’t just pulled him out of the depths of hell. “I said no.”

A slow smile crawled its way onto his face before he could stop it. Then another feeling hit, bright and stupid and way too much for a school hallway. He wanted to do a triple backflip. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you right there between rows of lockers. He wanted to sing something obnoxious and dramatic and completely out of character. Maybe dance in the rain. 

“Why would I?” you said, nudging his arm, eyes still fixed ahead. “Jongseong’s the end game.”

And just like that, Jake wanted to go back to murdering.

“Of course, he is,” he said with a hollow laugh. He nodded, then mockingly clapped his hands together once, sharp and sarcastic. His smile dropped almost instantly, and he turned his face away before you could see the frown taking over.

He felt like biting his own arm off.

Then he looked back at you. “Right. I forgot this was all for that… Jay guy.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “Well… to be honest, I don’t really know him. But he seems sweet. From the times we’ve talked. And the group project. He’s… nice.”

Jake hated how gently you said it.

And the worst part? Jay was sweet. He was the kind of guy who held doors open without being weird about it. The kind who sent the group notes without being asked. He always smiled. Always remembered birthdays. He was, objectively, everything a girl like you deserved.

Jake knew that.

But he didn’t want to admit it.

Because you were his. At least in the world that existed in his head. You were his gamer buddy. His childhood friend. You weren’t supposed to look at other guys like that. God, he wanted you to look at him like that.

He clenched his fists inside his hoodie pocket.

He wanted to stomp his feet like a toddler and let out a big, ugly cry.

But unfortunately, that was not considered appropriate school behavior.

You didn’t notice the way he looked at you. Or maybe you did, and you just didn’t want to deal with it. Either way, you were still rambling.

“I dunno. I mean… I guess I just wanna see where it could go if he ever, like, noticed me or something.” You scratched your neck, glancing at the floor. “Not that he would. He’s… Jongseong.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

You sighed. “I’m probably just kidding myself. I’m not really the type guys go for, you know?”

“You ever think maybe it’s not you?” He looked at you. “Maybe they’re just dumb.”

Something about the way he said it stuck. 

Jake glanced away before walking toward his locker.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you didn’t say anything.

But hours later, long after the hallway cleared out, after you were alone in your room, that sentence would come back again and again.

“Maybe they’re just dumb.”

And maybe Jake Sim wasn’t dumb.

But why would he ever see you that way?

You were the girl who screamed into her headset. Who wore the same hoodie three days in a row. Who got mistaken for a guy in Discord chats more often than not.

You shook your head and turned back to your phone, forcing yourself to scroll. Still, that voice stayed in the back of your mind.

And the way he looked at you when he said it.

–

It was time for lesson number two. You were back in the corner booth, your half-melted drink leaving a wet ring on the napkin beneath it. Jake sat across from you, lounging like he owned the place. One arm stretched over the back of the seat, his iced latte in the other, rings of condensation slipping down the sides of the cup.

He was watching you. That look again. The one that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or genuinely disappointed in you.

"This is the third guy that you’ve chickened out on. You’re not going to get better if you keep coming back after saying a simple hi," he said, nodding toward some guy seated near the counter. "Go talk to him. For real, this time."

You frowned. "I can’t. I freeze up and start to sweat."

Jake sighed and set his drink down. "Fine. Do it on me then."

You blinked. "What?"

"Practice. On me," he repeated, now leaning forward, his arms resting on the table. "Pretend I’m some guy you want to impress."

You stared at him. "You’re serious?"

"And you're stalling."

You turned your body toward him with a quiet sigh. "Okay. Fine."

"Go ahead," Jake said, his voice lower now, patient. He watched you with an unreadable look, the corner of his mouth still curved.

You tried. You really did.

Jake raised an eyebrow, pretending to be charmed. “Wow. Off to a strong start.”

You scowled. “Shut up, I’m trying.”

He smiled wider, amused. “No, no. Please. Continue. This is wildly entertaining.”

You gestured at his chest. “It looks… soft?”

Jake blinked, then burst into laughter. “Soft?”

“I meant—like. The material? It looks comfortable. On you.” You cringed. “Forget it.”

Jake leaned in, voice smooth like honey. “You want to touch it? That what you're trying to say, sweetheart?”

You made a strangled noise. “That’s not—”

He gently reached forward, fixing the way your fingers fidgeted with your sleeve.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake was already moving. He shifted closer on the bench, slow and smooth, until his knee touched yours under the table. One hand reached out and found your waist. His fingers slid just beneath the hem of your shirt, warm and steady.

"Also, a tip, if you will, from your ever so generous teacher, this," he said, "is the kind of touch that makes someone lean in."

His thumb brushed lightly against your side. His hand didn’t move much, but it didn’t need to. It rested there like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he was measuring your reaction.

And he was close now. Too close. You could see the way his lashes curled slightly at the tips. You could smell the quiet scent of his cologne, something clean and a little sharp, like cedar and mint. It wrapped around you in a way that made the entire café blur.

Your heartbeat quickened.

You hated that it did.

You laughed, a little too fast, wondering why your heart was feeling a certain way. "Okay. Great. Lesson learned. Thank you, Mr. Sim. I mean—Jae. Jake. Jaeyun. Jake."

Jake smirked and leaned back, finally letting his hand fall away. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, laughing.

It really did.

How devoid of men were you, seriously?

It had to be that. The fact that you’d been so completely off the radar of all male existence for the past… forever. That had to be the reason your heart skipped when he tucked your hair back. Or the reason your brain short-circuited when he looked at you a little too long.

It definitely wasn’t because you saw Jake that way.

Right?

—

Jake spotted the two of you from halfway across the hallway.

You were leaning against the row of lockers outside the atrium, one leg slightly bent, head tipped back as you laughed. Sunghoon stood in front of you, arms crossed but posture relaxed, that stupid smirk already creeping onto his face.

Jake knew that smile. It was the one Sunghoon always used when he was trying to be smooth. The kind of half-smile he used when he was talking to a girl he wanted to take out or maybe just get a reaction from. He looked confident. 

You giggled again and nudged Sunghoon’s arm, your fingers brushing lightly against his jacket sleeve. Jake’s stomach turned. That move. The casual touch. The lean-in. All of it. You were doing exactly what he taught you. The timing, the tone, the touch.

He felt heat rising in his chest, tension winding up his spine like someone had pulled a cord tight. His hands curled into fists inside his hoodie pockets.

He walked straight up to them.

“Hey,” Jake said, voice low but even.

You turned to him immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hey,” you said, beaming like nothing was wrong. Like your heart hadn’t just flipped for someone else. You had no idea how you looked right then.

“Can I talk to Hoon alone for a second?”

You glanced between them and nodded. “Sure. I need to pee anyway,” you said, swinging your bag over your shoulder before heading off down the hallway.

Jake watched you disappear, then turned to Sunghoon.

“Walk.”

He grabbed his friend by the sleeve and pulled him along. Past the lockers. Past the noisy vending machines. Past the drama kids yelling in the corridor. He didn’t stop until they were behind the stairwell, tucked into the shadowy corner where the lights flickered overhead.

He looked at Sunghoon, really looked. “I need you to stop flirting with her.”

Sunghoon blinked like he didn’t hear him right. “What?”

Jake squared his shoulders. “I need you to stop. Whatever it is you’re doing. The flirting. The teasing. All of it.”

“What? Why?” Sunghoon asked, brows furrowing. “We’re just talking. She’s fun.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “She’s not just some girl to mess with. She’s not like the others. She’s my friend.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Didn’t you say last month she was like a pet chihuahua?”

Jake faltered for a second. “That was before,” he said quickly.

“I know you, Sunghoon. I know how you are with girls. You don’t mean to hurt them, but you do. You get bored. You move on. And I can’t watch that happen to her.”

Sunghoon gave a half-laugh, but it was dry. “Dude. Relax.”

“I won’t relax,” Jake snapped. His voice was sharp enough to echo faintly off the concrete. “Not about this. Not about her.”

Sunghoon finally went quiet. He studied Jake’s face, expression shifting from surprise to something slower. More serious.

“Why are you this worked up?” he asked.

“You’re my best friend,” Jake added, voice quieter now. “You know I love you, but I can’t do this if it means watching you screw around with someone who means this much to me.”

Then…something clicked.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, just a little.

“Wait,” he said. “Do you actually like her?”

“Just. Please,” Jake said. “Don’t say it.”

—

You didn’t expect him to notice. Not really.

You’d just started wearing your hair a little differently. Put on some gloss.

So when Jongseong stopped you outside school, hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes holding that familiar mix of shyness and charm, your heart should’ve jumped.

But it didn’t.

“I was wondering if you wanted to maybe get coffee sometime? Just us?”

You blinked. And blinked again.

This was supposed to be it. The goal. The moment. The reason you spent hours flicking your hair over your shoulder like an idiot while Jake made fun of you.

But all you could think about was… Jake. Sim Fucking Jaeyun.

“I…” You looked up at Jongseong. Kind eyes. Good guy. Someone you used to swear you wanted. “I really appreciate it, Jongseong. I do. But… I think I’m going to pass.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. Then he nodded slowly. “No worries. Thanks for being honest.”

You gave him one more grateful smile and watched as he walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

And then you stood there.

Why the fuck am I thinking about Jake right now?

It was Wednesday. You’d just spent the last three hours at the academy doing absolutely nothing productive unless you counted emotionally spiralling in the corner seat while pretending to highlight your notes.

All you could think about was how it would’ve felt if Jake had been the one to ask you out.

Would you have said yes?

Would you have kissed him right there?

Would you have blacked out and screamed in his face?

You had fallen for Jake.

Oh fuck.

You groaned into your hands and started walking home, trying to mentally scrub the thoughts from your brain. But just as you passed under the flickering streetlamp by the park…

“BUN!”

You screamed. 

Jake doubled over laughing behind you. “What the—?!”

You spun around, nearly flinging your textbook at him. “JAKE WHAT THE HELL!”

He was wheezing. “You scream like that for me? You’re dramatic as hell.”

You clutched your chest, heart going a million beats per second, not just from the scare.

Jake walked over casually, reaching for your textbook. “Give me that, your bag’s wide open—”

“DON’T TOUCH IT!”

You screamed again, stumbling back like he was radioactive.

Jake screamed back, instinctively jumping a full step away. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” you yelled, then immediately spun on your heel. “I HAVE—A LOT OF HOMEWORK!”

“What—?”

But you were already speed-walking away, hair flying behind you as you left Jake stunned in the middle of the path.

By the time you slammed your front door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, you were in full mid-life crisis mode. Rolling back and forth, groaning into your pillow, muttering, “It’s Jake. Oh my god it’s Jake. I like JAKE.”

You were still flailing when you heard a voice.

“You call this homework?”

You froze.

Your head shot toward your window.

There he was. Jake. Standing in his room, staring at you through your open window with a raised brow.

Fuck. You forgot to close it.

You cleared your throat and sat up like a malfunctioning robot. “Gotta… prep. For homework.”

Jake squinted. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird.”

You nodded a little too fast. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…Okay.” He cleared his throat, clearly unconvinced. “Anyway. I was thinking for tomorrow’s lesson—”

“I don’t need them anymore.”

Jake paused. “Huh?”

You swallowed. “I don’t need the lessons. I’m good. I’m… fine. I don’t need to flirt. Or anything. Anymore.”

Jake stared at you from across the gap, mouth parting like he wanted to say something—but then it closed again.

“…You—”

“Jongseong asked me out today,” you blurted.

Jake went still, “Oh.”

It came out quiet. Just a hum. Then his eyes dropped to his feet. “So that’s why you don’t need the lessons anymore.”

“No!” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. “Not entirely.”

Silence fell between you, stretched across the space between your open windows. Both your hearts were racing, but for completely different reasons.

Yours…because it hit you again, hard and sharp: you had fallen for the guy who once smacked you in the face with a ping pong ball. The guy who threw pebbles at your window until you opened your window just to yell at him.

His…because you’d done it. You got Jongseong. The lessons worked. You didn’t need him anymore. You’d won.

So why did it feel like losing?

Thoughts ran rampant, words stuck in throats. The silence said too much.

“I—” you both said at once.

“You first.” Again, in unison.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you said, clearing your throat. “I said no.”

Jake blinked. “To Jay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked at you, brows furrowed. “The lessons… the whole thing… I don’t get it. Why’d you say no?”

“He asked me out. And I didn’t feel the way I thought I would. It didn’t hit. I didn’t want him to ask me out anymore.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on your face, “Are you okay?”

God. Even now. Even like this. Stupid Jake. Always worried about you.

You nodded. “I’m fine. I just… figured I wanted something else.”

Jake looked down again. “Oh.”

“I wanted…someone else.” You said, softly, looking back up at him to see his reaction.

He gulped and then cleared his throat, “Oh. I see.”

You sighed, frustrated that he wasn’t budging or showing any other emotion other than a silent nervous puppy. 

You looked at him, hair messy, probably from running his hands through it. A pair of fake glasses perched above his nose, the light from his lamp casting a shadow on his already perfect face. 

There was slightly disbelief in his voice, from knowing you had said no to Jongseong. A boy who’d spent probably 10 years convincing himself that you’d only ever see him as a friend–scratch that, not even a friend. Someone you’d yell at or a human punching bag. Someone to drop guns for when she had no more in game credits. Someone to finish the bag of family sized cheetos with because “it’s too much”. 

Your throat tightened, you weren’t sure why but you started talking: “I…uh…I didn’t really want it to be him. I kept picturing someone else.” 

“Mhm.”

“Someone who…who notices I get cold without me ever saying anything. Someone who walks me home every night. Someone who leaves pebble marks on my freakin’ window.” You said, eyes fluttering to the two tiny hairline cracks caused by Jake.

You stopped, looked up to see Jake’s reaction once again. Your heart was pounding even louder this time. All Jake was doing was staring. At you.

Then suddenly realization sunk in, you idiot. 

“Nevermind, I was just…saying stuff. Forget what I said.”

“No.” He said, firmer. 

He was leaning forward against the windowsill, knuckles white,  “Say it. Please?”

You looked at him, taking a deep breath, gulping for another breath of air because you couldn’t breathe, “I…I wanted it to be you.”

 The words hung in the air for a moment or two and you’re unsure if you actually did essentially him that you liked him. 

Jake didn’t move. Stunned. Stared at you with those pearly wide eyes and then you see him inching towards his window. 

“Jake? Jaeyun? Yun, what are you–”

He inched closer, climbing through his damn window.

“JAEYUN!”

He was already halfway out, one leg swung over his windowsill and another at your window. 

“Our windows are like three feet apart,” He huffed, voice strained from awkwardly balancing on the narrow ledge, “I’ll survive.”

“You can just yell!”

“I’m not yelling this!”

Then he crossed the gap and then Jake Sim was in your room.

You inched backwards, on your bed. Jake stood on your floor, scratching the back of his head. His hair a mess, him, slightly breathless.

“You’re insane.”

“You were saying…” He gasped for air. “You wanted it to be me.” 

You nodded, mouth dry, “Yes.”

Jake took one step forward, then he was right in front of you. His hand found his way to your cheek, lifting you up to look at him. 

“I wanted it to be me too,” He whispered. “For so fucking long.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because he was standing in your room now, three feet away but somehow close enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Jake closed the rest of the gap in half a second, hands reaching for your face. His fingers brushed your jaw as he leaned in, eyes still locked on yours like he was checking, still checking, like he needed a thousand confirmations—

So you kissed him first.

You crashed your lips onto his in a heartbeat, short-circuiting whatever overthinking he was spiraling into.

And then, he melted. His hands slid to cradle your face fully, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you back.

You gripped the front of his hoodie, fisting the fabric to keep yourself steady. And when you finally pulled back, you whispered, “For the record, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jake didn’t even hesitate. He leaned in again, his smile brushing your lips before he kissed you deeper this time.

“You’re doing,” he murmured between kisses, pressing another one to the corner of your mouth…

“Really,” one more, this time near your jaw…

“Good.”

Then he pulled back just enough to grin at you. “Then again, your boyfriend’s a teacher. I could always teach you how to kiss.”

You blinked. “Boyfriend?”

Jake tilted his head, still way too close, still grinning. “You’re telling me we’re not headed in that direction right now?”

“Not if you’re being smug about it.”

“I’ve been waiting ten years for this,” he said without missing a beat, “I’m gonna be as smug as I can be.”

“Ten years?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide.

He nodded seriously. “Remember when you wore that black dress to Sheldon’s funeral?”

You squinted. ��Yeah?”

“I thought you looked really pretty.”

“At your turtle’s funeral?”

Jake shrugged. “Am I crazy?”

You stared at him. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He grinned wider. “Crazy about you, though.”

Your fingers tightened on the front of his hoodie, knuckles brushing against his chest as you pulled him closer. Your noses were barely apart, your lips curving as they brushed again—

Knock knock knock.

“Sweetheart? Everything okay there? I heard… noises.”

You froze mid-breath. Jake froze too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Shit—” you hissed, panic flaring in your chest. “Closet!”

You shoved him hard toward the wooden closet door by your bookshelf, nearly tripping over your math notes and discarded socks in the process. Jake stumbled, muttering a curse, then ducked into the closet just as you reached for the doorknob.

You plastered on your most innocent smile, heart pounding as you swung the door open.

“Hi, Mom!” you chirped, voice pitched up way too high.

She raised an eyebrow, eyes drifting over your slightly messy hair and suspiciously glowing cheeks. “You okay?”

“Yep! Just watching Netflix.”

Her gaze swept past you into the room. Your bed was unmade, your pillows tossed, one of your shoes lying sideways on the rug like it had been kicked off in a hurry.

“I heard a boy’s voice.”

“Using my new speaker!”

She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Are you sure? Because if you are seeing someone…”

You tensed.

“I just hope it’s not someone else.”

Your smile faltered. “…What? What do you mean?”

“Y’know…” she said, shrugging. “If it’s not Sim’s son.”

You blinked. “Sim’s—”

“Jaeyun.”

“She told me he has a crush on you, y’know? Her boy.” Your mom gave you a look. “And to be honest, we’ve been rooting for you two since that turtle funeral.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead dramatically against the doorframe. “Oh my God.”

“It was just so cute! The way the two of you stood in the backyard, looking at each other.”

“Please stop talking.”

“We made a bet. She thinks you’ll get together right after graduation, and I said before.”

“Mum.”

“So who do you think will win? Do you need help speeding things up? I’ve got experience. Want me to tell you how I got your dad?”

“Mum. Stop.”

“Oh, fine. I’ll go,” she sighed. “Just keep the Netflix down, would you?”

As her footsteps retreated down the hall, you slammed the door shut and spun on your heel.

You yanked the closet door open.

Jake stood there, his hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, like he’d barely kept it together in there.

“Can’t believe my mom told yours,” he sighed, stepping out carefully. “It’s like secrets aren’t even secrets anymore.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she told me today,” you muttered. “Right after the whole… thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now.

“I still can’t believe our moms ship us.”

You sighed, already tugging on the front of his hoodie again. “Whatever. Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Jake grinned, stepping closer until your backs were to the door and your room was quiet again.

“Gladly,” he whispered, before leaning in once more.

—

ONE MONTH LATER

You were sprawled on the floor of your room, hoodie sleeves tugged over your palms, legs folded underneath you as you scribbled furiously into your notebook. Your knees were propped against the edge of the bed, an d your hair was half up, half giving up. Jake sat cross-legged behind you on the rug, elbows resting on his knees, watching you.

“You’re so cute when you’re concentrated,” he said, voice all soft and sing-song.

You didn’t even look up. “Yun.”

“Mmh?”

“Stop staring.”

“I can’t help it.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “My girlfriend’s too pretty.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled to yourself.

Without warning, Jake scooted closer until his knees touched your back. Then his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap like it was muscle memory. You let out a startled yelp as your notebook was abandoned somewhere across the carpet. Now you were seated between his thighs, his arms looped tightly around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck.

“I love this hoodie on you,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your skin. “You always smell like sunshine and detergent.”

“Baby, let me go. I was doing something—”

He kissed your shoulder, lips slow and warm. Then your jaw. Then the soft skin just beneath your ear. “Shhh. Let me love you for, like, five minutes.”

You squirmed. “You’re clingy.”

“I’m touch-starved.”

“You literally hugged me the entire walk back from the academy.”

Jake tightened his hold, hands splayed across your stomach now. “It’s not my fault you make me clingy.”

You finally turned to face him, arms loosely around his neck. He leaned in like gravity pulled him to you, brushing his nose against yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” Jake whispered, his fingers gently brushing along your cheekbone and down to your jaw. “I don’t think you even know what you do to me.”

You exhaled a laugh, “Jake, I was literally almost done.”

He pouted immediately. “Jake?” he repeated, like the word physically hurt him.

You looked up, confused. “What?”

“Did you just call me by my actual name?” His face twisted, mock-offended, as he clutched his chest dramatically. “No. Nope. Not allowed.”

You blinked. “Are you seriously mad because I called you Jake?”

He sat up slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah. Yes, I am. That’s what teachers call me. You? You call me baby. Or sweetheart. Or love. Or beautiful boy. I’d even take Yun. Not Jake.”

You smirked. “Jake—”

“Lalalala—” He slapped his hands over his ears and turned his head away from you. “I’m not listening

“Jake.” You grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down from his ears. “JAKE! Okay, fine! Baby?”

He immediately stopped, all sweet-eyed and smug. “Yes?” he replied, voice as soft as sugar.

“Oh my god. You’re insane.”

“Insane?” he scoffed, pulling you closer until your legs straddled his lap. His hands gripped your waist like they belonged there. “What’s insane is that you don’t fucking love me.”

You stared at him, jaw dropping. “Sim Jaeyun—”

He gasped, scandalised, throwing his head back like you’d physically wounded him. “And again with the full name. Gah! You hate me.”

You burst out laughing as he yanked you forward and buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning

“Okay, fine,” you said, playing along. “Oh, my dearest bundle of love, light of my life, tell me—how must I ever earn your forgiveness?”

He perked up instantly, lifting his head with a bright smile. “Ooh. This is fun.” He clapped once, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I want kisses.”

You snorted. “Kisses? That’s it?”

“I want one here,” he tapped his cheek.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“And here,” he tapped the other.

Then he tapped his lips. “And one here. Minimum a minute. No funny business. Though, I don’t mind if you slip in a little tongue.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous.”

Still, you leaned in, slowly, lips brushing against his. Jake’s hands slid up your back, holding you close as he kissed you back properly.

When you finally pulled away, breath mingling with his, he whispered against your mouth, “Forgiveness granted.”

You smiled, forehead pressed to his until your phone dinged.

You pulled back and glanced at the screen. “Why did Sunghoon just text me, ‘control your damn dog’?”

Jake tilted his head, expression too casual. “Oh. I think he’s referring to the text I just sent him.”

You squinted. “What text?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don't know could be the one where I told him to eat shit and get diarrhoea.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?! Why?”

“He texted you for your chem notes.”

“Jake!”

He grinned, smug and unrepentant. “Name? Again? That’s strike two, baby. One more and you’re out.”

"You're insane."

[ikeuwoniee]

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER !!

PAIRING: neighbor!hee x reader

Synopsis. It’s okay to get with a guy a few years older than you! Even better when he tries to ignore how beautifully charming you are!

NOTE: age gap relationship (4 years) lowkey was craving this … 6k words — enha masterlist

Summer clung to the building like it didn’t know how to let go: thick, heavy, and restless. You stepped out onto the shared porch between your apartment and the one next door, glass of cold water in hand, tank top sticking to your skin. It was late, but too hot to sleep. The porch light above flickered again, buzzing once before sputtering out. You rolled your eyes at it and leaned against the railing anyway.

Right on cue, you heard a door creak open.

You didn’t turn, not yet anyways, it took everything in you not to dissolve into a massive puddle of sweat already. You just took a sip and waited.

“Still broken?” came a familiar voice—deep, calm, and slightly amused.

Heeseung.

You turned slowly, letting your gaze move over him. Gray sweatpants, black t-shirt, and a screwdriver tucked loosely in his hand like he hadn’t really planned to use it.

“I was starting to think you were ghosting me,” you said, giving him a look.

He didn’t rise to it. He never did. That’s what made it fun.

“I keep meaning to fix it,” he said, stepping past you toward the light fixture. “Never got around to it.”

“Mmm.” You sipped your water again. “Typical man.”

He shot you a sideways glance. “You got something against men?”

You smiled, stepping closer. “Only the ones who ignore me.”

“I notice you,” he said quietly, still not looking at you.

He was always like this, too composed and unreadable for your liking. You’d met him two months ago when you moved in. He’d helped you carry one box, said your name once, and since then had politely ignored every attempt at small talk.

Well… Almost every attempt, you’d have to corner him and put him in situations like this to get him to talk to you.

He reached up, twisting at the fixture with slow, precise movements. You let your eyes wander, just for fun.

“You always dress like that at midnight?” he asked suddenly, voice low.

You looked down at yourself, what was wrong with the way you were dressed? Sure, the tiny shorts you had on were close to showing your bare ass and your tank top was so thin that anyone who looked hard enough could see the outline of your boobs, but that wasn’t your fault or anything. All you could do is shrug, “it’s hot.”

“You think that’s an excuse?”

“You’re the only one complaining,” you said. “Unless you want me to cover up?”

That made him pause, his face looking like he was contemplating. Then, with frustrating calm, he said, “Do what you want.”

You tilted your head, lips tugging into a smirk. “Oh, I plan to.”

The light above you buzzed again, sputtered, and then gave up entirely.

Heeseung stepped down from the small ledge and sighed. “Guess I’ll need a new bulb.”

“Or maybe it’s nervous,” you offered, brushing past him as you returned to lean against the porch railing. “Lights flicker when the energy’s high, you know. Too much tension.”

He glanced at you. “There’s no tension.”

“I beg to differ.” You said it too sweetly for it to sound mean. He didn’t reply.

You turned your head, watching him for a moment in the dark.

“You always this quiet?” you asked.

“Only when I don’t trust myself to speak.”

That one landed.

You straighten your posture, heart beating just a little faster, watching the way he shifted his grip on the screwdriver like he suddenly wanted to be anywhere but standing next to you on a warm summer night with too little light and too much want.

“I’m nineteen,” you said softly, stepping closer. “In case you were wondering.”

He looked at you now, scanning you up and down. Like it physically hurt him to do it. “You’re too young.”

“It’s not like it’s illegal or anything.”

“That’s not the point.”

You smiled. “Then tell me what the point is.”

Heeseung’s jaw flexed. He glanced at your lips. Just once. Then back at your eyes, “I think you know.”

Another silence stretched between you. And then, finally, he stepped back. Just once. Just far enough to feel like rejection.

“I should go,” he said.

“You always run away when girls flirt with you?” You teased, stepping yet another step closer to him.

“Only when I want to flirt back.”

Your chest tightened. But you held your ground.

“Goodnight,” he added, voice low.

You didn’t say it back. Just watched him disappear inside.

The porch was quiet again. No light. No breeze.

Just the glass sweating in your hand and the faint hum of something that felt like it had already begun.

⸻

Next to go was the sink.

A slow, rhythmic drip that turned into a small, stubborn stream. You’d tried tightening the faucet, even looked up a tutorial, but it kept leaking very loudly and very annoyingly. Just enough to ruin your night.

So naturally, you knocked on his door.

Heeseung opened it a little slower than usual, like he was deciding whether or not to answer at all. He was in the same black shirt as the night before, hair slightly messy, one hand braced on the doorframe.

You leaned against the doorjamb with an innocent smile. “Hi, neighbor.”

He blinked. “What’d you break?”

“I didn’t break anything,” you said. “But my sink might be having a crisis. Thought I’d ask the guy with the screwdriver if he wanted to play handyman again.”

He hesitated. “Have you told maintenance?”

“I could,” you said. “But you do such a better job,” your hand goes to slightly run down his arm.

His eyes narrowed slightly. You didn’t miss the way he looked at your bare legs before dragging his gaze away.

“Come on,” you added. “I’ll owe you one.”

Heeseung stared at you for a second longer, then stepped out of his apartment without another word.

⸻

Your apartment smelled faintly of vanilla and laundry detergent. He paused just inside the door, looking around like he’d stepped into dangerous territory — which, to be fair, he had.

You watched as he walked past the bookshelf crammed with poetry books and old Polaroids, past the record player and the half-melted candle on your coffee table.

He looked everywhere but at you.

“The sink’s in here,” you said, motioning to the small kitchen. “She’s leaking.”

He rolled up his sleeves and crouched down under the counter, grabbing the pipe. “She?”

“All misbehaving appliances are girls,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter beside him. “Boys just short-circuit and die. Girls at least give you warning signs.”

That earned a quiet laugh. “You’ve thought about this too much.”

You let your bare foot tap against the lower cabinet. “I think about a lot of things.”

Heeseung didn’t respond. He was busy adjusting the valve, fingers working in steady, precise movements.

You tilted your head and watched him.“Ever been inside a girl’s apartment before?” you asked casually.

He paused again. “Not answering that.”

“So you have.”

He glanced at you, lips twitching. “What about you? Ever lured a man over with plumbing issues?”

“Only the ones who pretend not to like me.”

This time he did look at you straight on, like he was weighing something in his head. “You’re not subtle, you know that?”

Honestly, it made your knees buckle slightly. “No fun in being subtle.”

Heeseung turned back to the sink, jaw tight. You caught the way his hand flexed on the wrench. He was trying so hard not to look again.

“I think it’s fixed,” he muttered, standing up slowly.

You stayed seated on the counter, knees almost brushing his chest. He didn’t move away right away, toying with everything to make sure of his work.

You smiled. “That’s it? No bill?”

His voice was low. “Thought I’d add it to your tab.”

“And what’s on that so far?”

Heeseung’s eyes dropped to your lips for a second too long, then back up. “Trouble,” he said. “A lot of trouble.”

You grinned. “That’s the best kind of anything.”

He stepped back then… weirdly fast. Like he realized how close he’d let himself get. He wiped his hands on a paper towel and continued to look everywhere but you.

“You should be more careful,” he said, voice tight. “Inviting guys in like this.”

“Who said I do this with just anyone?” You bit your lip.

“You’re nineteen,” he said, like it was a defense.

You slid off the counter and took a step closer. “You already used that one.”

He backed up until his shoulder brushed the doorframe. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

You stepped even closer, now just a few inches between you.

“Yeah?” you whispered. “Or maybe I just know exactly what I want.”

His breath caught.

And still, nothing happened.

You didn’t touch him. Didn’t lean in. You just looked him in the eye and let the silence carry every word you weren’t saying.

Then, calmly, you stepped back.

“Thanks for fixing the sink,” you said lightly, like your heart wasn’t pounding.

He opened the door to leave. But before he stepped out, he paused—one hand still on the knob. “Don’t do that again.”

You blinked. “What?”

“That look,” he said without turning. “Don’t give it to someone like me.”

Then he left.

And the door clicked shut, soft but final. But that ache under your skin? That feeling stayed.

⸻

He didn’t answer your texts.

Not that you’d sent anything obvious — no hey, where’d you go? or miss me yet? You weren’t desperate. Just strategic. Just playful.

Just one message:

u still alive or did the police get u

No response.

You weren’t surprised.

Heeseung had been doing the whole avoidance damage control routine like a pro. No more porch run-ins, no more accidental eye contact in the hall. Even his mail pile vanished earlier now, like he was timing it to avoid bumping into you.

It would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so stupid and if it weren’t you he was avoiding.

So on a sticky, slow Wednesday night, when the air felt like it was sitting on your skin and your playlist (full of tame impala and mitski like artists) had hit its third repeat, you decided to make a move.

Of course, not a bold one, you were too embarrassed. Just cookies.

Soft, warm, chocolate chip with flaky sea salt on top, the kind that melted in your mouth and made people forgive you for anything.

You boxed them in a clear plastic container, scribbled “for the grump next door” on a sticky note, and padded barefoot down the hall. You placed it on his doormat and knocked once. Then you walked away like it meant nothing.

And you told yourself that it didn’t, you were still young after all, this was just flirting.

But the next morning, when you opened your door, the container was sitting on your mat. Empty.

No note. No message. No thank you. Just a cleaned out tupperware that used to hold cookies.

You stared at it, your chest blooming with something smug and sweet, and said aloud to the hallway, “You’re welcome.”

⸻

Two days later, the door creaked.

You were already outside, tank top, loose cotton shorts, a half-melted popsicle hanging limply between your fingers. It was past eleven, and the sky looked like wet ink. Your skin was still damp from your shower, hair thrown up into a messy bun, strands clinging to the sides of your neck.

You didn’t look at him right away.

Just let the sound of his door echo like thunder.

Heeseung stepped out slow, like he was testing the air. Gray sweatpants again. A white shirt this time, sleeves pushed up his forearms. His hair was still damp too, probably showered after work. He leaned against the porch railing, almost mirroring you.

And no one spoke at this… at least not right away.

Until you broke the silence with a tiny, half-smile. “So you did like them.”

He didn’t turn his head. “They were alright.”

You licked a drip from your popsicle, letting the silence thicken.

“You ate all of them.”

“Didn’t want to be rude.”

You tilted your head. “Leaving the container without a note felt pretty rude.”

Heeseung finally looked at you then. Fully.

It was soft at first — just a glance, barely a pull of his brows. But then it dragged. Slowly. Over your legs. Your lips. The sticky pink smear on your wrist. His eyes flickered upward and met yours, like he hated himself for all of it.

“No more gifts,” he said.

You raised a brow. “Are you allergic to generosity or are you just emotionally unavailable?”

That almost got a smile. Almost.

“It’s confusing,” he said. “Makes it harder to pretend this isn’t…”

He trailed off.

You leaned forward, elbow resting on your knee. “This isn’t what?”

Another silence.

He didn’t answer. You didn’t need him to.

Heeseung looked exhausted, but not in the physical way, but like someone fighting a current he already knew was going to win. His fingers tapped against the porch rail once, then stilled.

“You looked better without the distance,” you said after a beat. “Three days of silence didn’t suit you.”

He scoffed under his breath. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“You’re hard to ignore.”

That one landed and his grip on the railing visibly tightened.

“Don’t do that,” he said lowly.

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like I matter.”

You stared at him, the popsicle melting slowly in your hand. “If you didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have baked you cookies.”

“Cookies aren’t—”

“You ate all of them, Heeseung.”

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying not to smile. He didn’t succeed.

You let the tension stretch, let him stand there knowing you were winning this round too. And when you were sure he wouldn’t speak again, you said, quietly “why does it scare you?”

Heeseung blinked, startled.

“Me. Us. Whatever this is,” you added. “You act like I’m dangerous.”

“Because you are.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sharp honesty.

He stepped toward you, slowly, arms crossed over his chest. He was still a full foot away, but something about the shift made the porch feel smaller.

“You’re young,” he said.

You stood.

“You keep saying that like it’s a spell. It’s not. It doesn’t make you want me any less.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Swallowed hard. “You’re playing with fire,” he muttered.

You took one slow step closer. “Then stop standing so close to it.”

That did it.

His jaw tightened, like the fight was slipping. His chest rose with something deeper than breath. His eyes dropped to your mouth again, then away, like he’d burned himself on the thought alone.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said.

You smiled, just a little. “I think you’re the only one who believes that.”

Another silence.

Then, quieter than anything else so far, he said, “Don’t flirt with people who might not know how to stop.”

You didn’t blink. “You just don’t want to admit you don’t want to.”

And then, like that, you turned. Walked past him. One bare foot after the other. But just before you reached your door, you paused. “I’ll leave it unlocked next time,” you said softly, not looking back.

Then you disappeared inside. And the door clicked shut like a promise. Heeseung didn’t move for a full minute. But his heart did. God, it did.

———

The sky was bruised purple, heavy with rain and the promise of a storm. You watched from your window as the first fat drops splattered against the glass, blurring the city lights into shimmering halos. The air was thick, charged, like the whole world was holding its breath.

Then the power flickered once, then twice and finally went out completely.

You sighed, the sudden quiet so different from the usual hum of the ceiling fan and streetlights. The apartment plunged into darkness except for the soft glow of your phone’s flashlight.

Perfect timing.

You grabbed a candle from your kitchen counter, lit it, and set it on the windowsill. The flickering flame threw dancing shadows across the room, turning your familiar space into something fragile and uncertain.

Just as you settled on the couch, the doorbell rang.

Your heart jumped and your mind grew curious, you weren’t expecting anyone especially not at a time like this.

Peering through the peephole, you saw him: Heeseung, soaked through, rain dripping from his hair and sleeves, eyes wild but holding something like relief.

You opened the door before you could think twice.

“Power’s out,” he said, voice low. “Thought you might need help.”

You swallowed the heat rising in your chest. “Or maybe you just wanted an excuse to come over.”

He stepped inside without waiting for an answer, shaking water from his hair. The smell of rain mixed with his natural scent, something earthy, warm, utterly him.

You moved aside, watching him carefully as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” he muttered, scanning the darkened room.

You nodded, lighting another candle.

Heeseung sank onto the couch beside you, close but not touching. The silence stretched, heavy and electric.

“You never stopped,” he said finally, voice rough. “Not even when I tried.”

You met his eyes, bold and steady. “Did you want me to?”

He hesitated. “I wanted to do the right thing. But you… you make it impossible.”

You smiled softly. “Maybe we both stopped trying.”

Thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windows. Heeseung’s gaze dropped to your lips, then back up. “I’m not good at this.”

“You’re not supposed to be,” you said. “That’s why it’s real.”

The storm raged on, but in the quiet darkness between you, something fragile and fierce was born.

His hand brushed yours, just barely and it was enough. Enough to say everything without a word.

———

The storm had passed, leaving the world washed clean and the air crisp with early morning quiet. You woke to soft light filtering through your curtains, the scent of rain still lingering in the cool air.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A message from Heeseung:

“Coffee? I’m down the hall.”

You smiled, grabbed your robe, and padded barefoot to your door.

Heeseung was sitting outside, a steaming cup in each hand. He looked… tired. The rain had left his hair damp, and the corners of his mouth were softer than you’d ever seen.

“Morning,” you said, taking the cup he offered.

“Morning,” he replied, voice low but steady.

You both sipped in silence for a moment.

“Last night was…” you started.

“Too much,” he finished.

You laughed softly. “I mean—”

“No regrets,” he said.

You looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded. “You make me want things I thought I should ignore.”

You reached out, brushing a stray damp strand behind his ear.

“I’m glad,” you whispered.

His eyes met yours, open and honest and something more. For the first time, the space between you didn’t feel dangerous.

It felt like home.

————

You hadn’t seen Heeseung all day.

Not in the hall, not on the porch, not in the quiet hours of late evening when the light turned gold and sleepy. You tried not to look for him, but the way your ears perked at the sound of footsteps gave you away. You kept your door cracked longer than usual. You left a second mug on the counter like it was instinct.

Still, nothing.

Until 10:47 p.m., when three soft knocks tapped against your door.

You opened it slowly, and there he was.

Gray hoodie, hands in his pockets, hair damp from a shower (his hair is always damp!). He looked like he was about to say something casual, probably something like “just wanted to check on you!” but the moment your eyes met, it died on his lips.

“Hey,” you said, voice quiet, warm.

He swallowed. “You doing anything?”

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Come with me.”

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t need to.

⸻

The rooftop was warm from the day’s leftover sun, and the air smelled faintly of concrete and summer wind. The city sprawled below in a thousand tiny lights. The hum of cars far off. Somewhere, someone played jazz through a half-open window.

You stood at the edge of the roof together, side by side, not speaking. The silence felt comfortable now, not awkward nor heavy. Just full.

Heeseung sat first, back against the short brick wall, long legs stretched out. You sat beside him slowly, pulling your knees to your chest, careful not to brush against him.

“Do you come up here often?” you asked softly.

“I come up here when I want to stop thinking.”

You smiled. “And how’s that going?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed somewhere far below, but his fingers twitched slightly where they rested against the concrete — like they wanted to reach for something but didn’t trust the space between.

“You always come up here?” you asked.

“Only when I can’t sleep,” he said. “Which is most nights lately.”

“Because of me?”

He looked over at you then, not smiling, not teasing but honest.“Yeah.”

The word landed like a ripple in your chest.

You let the silence stretch again, watching the way the wind tugged at his hair. How soft he looked in this light. How close.

“I thought you’d keep avoiding me,” you said.

Heeseung let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I did. For like five hours.”

“And then?”

“And then I wanted to see you more than I wanted to do the right thing.”

Your heart ached at that. Because it wasn’t flirty. It wasn’t clever. It was real.

You rested your chin on your knee. “What’s the right thing, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Not this.”

“But this is what you want.”

His voice dropped. “Yeah.”

You turned to face him more fully. “So take it.”

That hung between you — bold and unshaken. You didn’t look away. And he didn’t blink.

Slowly, his hand moved. Just his fingers at first, brushing against yours on the ground like they weren’t sure if they were allowed. You tilted your palm up.

He took it.His fingers threaded through yours — warm, steady, a little shaky. Neither of you said anything.

He looked down at your joined hands, then up at your face. His voice cracked just slightly when he spoke.“You make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like I’m already halfway in.”

You smiled. “Nothing wrong with that. ”

His lips twitched. Then stilled.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Only that suddenly, his face was inches from yours, the air charged and humming between your mouths. He looked at you like he was waiting for you to stop him.

You didn’t.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, barely louder than a breath.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Please.”

And then — finally — he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t wild. It was quiet and aching, like something he’d been holding in too long, like a secret finally spoken. His mouth moved over yours slowly, reverently, like he didn’t want to miss a single second.

His hand cupped your jaw. Yours curled into the front of his hoodie.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested together, breath mingling, hearts not quite steady.

“I’ve wanted that for a while,” he said.

You smiled, barely able to speak. “Me too.”

The wind stirred your hair. A car honked far away. Someone downstairs laughed.

But here, up on this rooftop, it was just you and him.

And something that had started slow finally beginning to catch fire.

———

Heeseung didn’t kiss you again.

Not right away. Not after the rooftop.

You’d both sat there for a while afterward, legs tangled, sharing secrets you’d never planned to say out loud. You told him how lonely the apartment felt some nights. He told you he hadn’t let anyone in, not really, in over a year.

Eventually, he walked you to your door and stood there for a long time like he wanted to be invited in. But he wasn’t ready and you didn’t force it. You just reached for his hand one last time and said, “Goodnight.”

He didn’t say it back.

He just watched you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he blinked.

⸻

The next day, he acted like nothing happened.

Not in a cruel way. Just careful. Neutral.

You saw him on the porch that morning — hoodie sleeves pushed up, coffee in hand. You waved. He nodded. Said nothing.

You tried to match it. You leaned on the railing like usual, bare legs tucked under you, hair freshly styled. The breeze played with the hem of your shirt, and you saw him glance over, quick and sharp — then back down to his phone.

You bit back a smile. He was failing at pretending. Badly.

Good.

⸻

That evening, your doorbell rang once.

You opened it to find a small white takeout bag and no one standing there. But you heard his door click shut a second later.

You brought it inside.

Inside was a container of tteokbokki — still warm — and a napkin with messy handwriting.

Eat something. You forget. - H

Your stomach fluttered like a traitor.

You texted him:

thank u. i’ll return the favor. don’t think this gets you out of round 2 tho.

No response.

But a minute later, you heard the sound of his microwave.

⸻

By the time the sun went down, the apartment was too warm to be comfortable. You sat cross-legged on your couch in shorts and an oversized tee, flipping through shows you weren’t watching.

You were thinking about the kiss.

How it started slow. How it stayed with you.

How he hadn’t touched you since — not even a brush of fingers — and how that made you want him more.

You heard footsteps outside.

His.

Then a pause.

Then a knock.

And you opened the door without hesitation.

Heeseung stood there, hoodie zipped halfway up, hands in the pockets, eyes unreadable.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You nodded and stepped aside.

He didn’t sit right away. He stood near the counter, like he was thinking of a reason to stay or an excuse to leave.

You leaned against the arm of the couch and said, “You didn’t answer my text.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t know what to say.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not regretting it, are you?”

He looked at you then — long, hard, like the idea offended him. “No,” he said, walking forward. “I’m regretting not doing it again.”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “So do it again.”

He didn’t wait this time.

He crossed the room, leaned down, and kissed you like he meant it — deeper, hungrier, the kind of kiss that spoke of every second he’d spent trying not to think about you. His hands found your waist. Yours tangled in the collar of his hoodie.

You pulled him down onto the couch with you, your knees bracketing his hips, mouths still pressed together. This time, it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t shy.

It was need.

He pulled away just enough to look at you, lips swollen, breath uneven.

“I’m trying not to move too fast,” he whispered.

You laughed softly. “I don’t care.”

His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan.

You stayed like that for a while — him curled against you, your fingers brushing through his hair, silence thick with everything unsaid.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.

“This doesn’t feel casual anymore.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “That’s because it never was.”

⸻

It started with small things.

Like how he didn’t knock anymore.

Some nights, he’d just show up — hoodie tugged over his head, eyes tired, hands deep in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them. You’d open the door without a word and let him in. Sometimes he brought food. Sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he just wanted silence and your shoulder.

Other times, he kissed you the second you closed the door behind him.

Like he needed it. Like he couldn’t not.

One evening, around 9 p.m., he texted you:

I’m outside.

You found him sitting on the stairs just beneath your porch, arms resting loosely over his knees.

He looked up as you stepped out, then nodded for you to join him.

“I like when it’s quiet,” he said as you sat beside him.

You rested your chin on your knee. “Me too.”

He tilted his head, gaze soft. “You look different out here.”

“More peaceful?”

He shook his head. “More quiet.”

You smiled. “And you’re still sitting next to me.”

“That’s the problem.” He said it so easily now. Like he’d stopped fighting it.

You nudged his shoulder with yours. “What problem?”

He didn’t say it. He just leaned in and kissed you like an answer.

⸻

It didn’t take long for people to start noticing.

Not because you were obvious, but because the energy shifted. You weren’t flirting anymore. Not really.

Now, you looked at him like he was already yours.

And he looked at you like he hated how much he loved that.

One night, your upstairs neighbor passed you both in the hallway as you leaned against Heeseung’s doorframe, laughing too softly for anyone else to understand. She paused. Smiled.

“You two finally figured it out?”

You blinked. “What?”

She just waved her hand. “Nothing. It’s cute.”

Heeseung’s ears flushed pink.

⸻

The first time he stayed the night, it wasn’t planned.

It was a Friday. You’d had a bad day — some frustrating texts from friends, missed deadlines, your AC rattling like it was about to die. Heeseung showed up just after midnight with a bag of snacks, two cold cans of soda, and a promise to fix the AC.

You didn’t even make it through the first half of the movie.

You fell asleep with your head on his chest and his fingers tangled in your hair, both of you tucked into the corner of the couch like you were afraid moving would wake the spell.

When you opened your eyes, it was morning. The sky was pale and the city quiet. Heeseung was still there, one arm wrapped around your waist, his breath slow against your neck.

You didn’t move. You didn’t want to.

⸻

Later, as he slipped his shoes on at the door, you watched him with your arms crossed and a sleepy smirk on your face.

“Next time, bring a change of clothes.”

He glanced back at you, already smiling.

“You planning on keeping me here?”

You shrugged. “We both know you don’t want to leave.”

He didn’t argue, only leaned in, kissed your forehead, and said,

“I’ll be back tonight.”

And he was.

⸻

It was supposed to be a quick trip.

Just groceries. Maybe some snacks. You’d texted Heeseung out of boredom, and he’d replied three minutes later with:

“Pick me up.”

So now here you were, in a corner aisle of a half-empty store, laughing quietly as Heeseung leaned over your shoulder to read the label on a bottle of soy sauce you didn’t actually need.

“I swear you only come here to flirt in front of the ramen.”

You tilted your head toward him. “It’s the most romantic aisle. Obviously.”

He grinned, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Then I guess I’ll propose in front of the instant miso.”

Your laughter echoed softly through the aisle. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t scandalous. Just a kind of closeness that said we’re comfortable here — in this in-between space of almost something, almost everything.

Heeseung tugged the cart behind him as you tossed in a bag of frozen dumplings. Your fingers brushed as you walked. You didn’t think twice before linking your pinky with his.

Neither of you noticed the guy standing at the end of the aisle.

Not until Heeseung froze mid-step.

You followed his gaze — and found a tall guy with messy hair and a smirk standing by the cereal section, arms crossed over his chest like he’d just stumbled across something way more interesting than Frosted Flakes.

“Hee?” the guy said. “Seriously?”

Heeseung’s hand slipped from yours instantly. His expression changed. Not guilty, exactly — but startled. Like something private had just been exposed to air too early.

You glanced between them. “Friend of yours?”

“Jay,” Heeseung muttered. “We… used to work together.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Used to?”

You stepped back slightly, giving them space, but Jay’s eyes flicked to you and then to Heeseung with a grin that said got it.

“I was just grabbing cereal,” Jay said, lifting the box like proof. “Didn’t realize you were busy.”

Heeseung shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s not—”

“Relax,” Jay cut in. “I’m not judging.”

He looked at you again, this time a little differently — not rude, not intrusive. Just curious.

“You his girlfriend?”

You opened your mouth, but Heeseung beat you to it.

“She’s… someone.”

Jay blinked, caught off guard. “Okay.”

Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re not really… telling people yet.”

Jay gave a small, knowing nod. “Then I didn’t see anything.”

You smiled a little. “Thanks.”

Jay winked at Heeseung. “She’s cute. Don’t mess it up.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the next aisle, humming to himself like the world hadn’t just shifted.

⸻

In the car afterward, Heeseung was quiet.

You didn’t press him. You let the silence sit, warm and humming, like tension without teeth. It wasn’t until you pulled into the parking lot that he finally spoke.

“I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m ashamed.”

You looked over at him. “I know.”

He turned toward you, hand resting between your seats, thumb brushing yours gently. “I just… wasn’t ready for anyone to see it yet.”

“You don’t owe anyone anything, Hee.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “I know. But you do.”

You raised a brow. “Me?”

“Yeah. You deserve someone who’s proud of it. Of you.”

The words sat heavy in your chest — heavier than you expected. You squeezed his fingers. “Then be proud.”

He looked at you, then down at your joined hands. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “Just… don’t let go while I figure it out.”

You leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

You expected him to disappear.

Not fully — but to go distant. To start second-guessing what this was, what you were. After all, someone saw. Someone knew. And the last thing Heeseung had ever been was careless.

But he didn’t go anywhere.

He texted you later that night:

Home safe?

You left your hoodie in the car. Smelled like strawberries.

Might keep it.

You stared at the last message for a while.

Smiled.

Didn’t answer.

Let him sit with the feeling of wanting more.

⸻

The shift didn’t come all at once.

It came in the details.

He stopped sitting on the other side of the couch. Now he pulled you into his lap like it was second nature, held you while you talked, laughed into your shoulder when you made a joke.

One afternoon, you were curled up with your legs across his lap, flipping through a magazine you weren’t really reading. He was scrolling through his phone. You glanced over at his screen and realized he was typing your name into a playlist.

“She likes sad music” was the title.

You tried not to melt. Failed.

⸻

A week later, you made the mistake of calling him your friend in front of a delivery guy.

“Yeah, my friend’s inside—he’s just grabbing the—”

“Friend?” Heeseung called from the kitchen. His voice sounded innocent, but you knew better.

You leaned against the wall, calling back: “Do you want me to say situationship to the man dropping off pizza?”

He poked his head out from the kitchen, holding two soda cans. “Roommate with benefits?”

You blinked. “That makes it sound like we split rent and trauma bond.”

He walked over, handed you a can, leaned in to kiss your cheek.

You were very aware of the delivery guy watching through the half-cracked door.

“Boyfriend,” Heeseung said, voice low against your ear. “Next time, just go with boyfriend.”

Then he turned around like he hadn’t just lit your entire chest on fire.

⸻

You didn’t call him that again.

Not for a while. But he’d said it. And the word kept echoing in your head, soft and dangerous.

The real surprise came on a Sunday.

You had fallen asleep on his couch after a long day, curled into a ball with your face pressed against his hoodie. It was raining again. Heeseung sat across from you at the kitchen table, scribbling something in a notebook you didn’t know he used.

When you woke up, he was gone.

But a piece of paper had been tucked into your hand. Folded once. Smelled faintly like his cologne.

You opened it slowly.

I’m bad at saying it, but I’m not scared anymore.

I want to stay.

———

It started with music playing too softly from your phone.

A lazy morning. One of those cloudy, sleepy Sundays where the world felt distant — the kind where time stretched long and warm and slow, and the only thing that mattered was the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and the boy sitting on your floor, quietly tying the laces of your shoes.

He looked up at you after the second knot, dark hair flopping into his eyes. “Your laces were a mess.”

You blinked. “You tied my shoes?”

“I live dangerously.”

You smirked. “You’re soft.”

“You like that.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Later, you were on the porch — two mugs, one blanket, and Heeseung sitting with his legs stretched out, back against the wall, his eyes somewhere on the horizon.

You watched him, the way he looked more at home now. The way he no longer pulled away when you touched him. The way he let his hand rest on your thigh like it belonged there.

“You never said what that note meant,” you said softly.

He didn’t look at you. Just reached for his mug. “I thought it was pretty clear.”

“It was,” you admitted. “But I want to hear you say it.”

He stared into his coffee like it might give him the words.

Then, without ceremony, he said:

“I want this. I want you.”

You looked at him.

He still wasn’t smiling. But he was serious — in that quietly terrified way that people are when they’re finally telling the truth.

“I’m not good at big declarations,” he added. “I won’t do the speech or the fireworks. But I’ll wake up next to you. I’ll know your coffee order. I’ll call you when the streetlights turn on just because I know you like the sound of my voice at night.”

Your heart pulled tight.

“I’ll stay,” he said. “If you want me to.”

You didn’t speak.

You just leaned in and kissed him — soft, slow, like an answer. Like a yes.

He kissed you back, but he smiled this time, too. You felt it. You tasted it.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his.

“You’re already here,” you whispered.

Heeseung nodded. “I know.”

———

That night, you shared his bed for the first time. Not rushed. Not messy.

You brushed your teeth together, bumping elbows. You stole his t-shirt. You crawled beneath his blankets and let him hold you like the world would still be waiting in the morning.

He fell asleep with one hand over your heart. And when you woke up — warm, tangled, safe — he was still there.

Not leaving. Not running. Just yours.

In all the ways that mattered

[ikeuwoniee]

♯┆ERROR 404 .ᐟ word limit reached. ᡣ𐭩 박성훈｡

"i promise myself, while drinking a glass of water in the morning, to tell you. i'll confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow. you are pretty." — pretty u by seventeen.

୨ pairing ୧ : park sunghoon x fem!reader.

୨ synopsis ୧ : he wouldn't necessarily call himself talkative. sunghoon is just a normal college boy with normal hobbies and interests, so of course he likes talking about those, and he especially likes talking about you— but talking to you? it's an entirely different challenge. and he knows he has to man up and speak up before you get sick of his silence.

୨ genres ୧ : college!au, classmates!au, slow burn-ish, strangers to lovers, lowkey loser!sunghoon, romance, very fluffy, light angst, but a whole lot more comfort, a bit of jealousy, sunghoon is a stupid dumb idiot lover boy. ✮ featuring: enhypen's 02z + heeseung, ive's gaeul and liz, and seventeen's jeonghan. ୨ warnings ୧ : suggestive content, making out, swearing, pet names, alcohol consumption, parties, brief mentions of blood, unintentional self injury, poor attempts at humor, sunghoon is kind of emotionally constipated but in a good way. sunghoon's taller than reader. lmk if i missed anything!

୨ word count ୧ : 18.3k words.┆read the teaser here.

୨ from ! 🐰 yan ୧ : my first written work !! i normally write smaus so writing a full oneshot has been daunting. this is my literal brain child so i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i would love to get feedback via asks/replies !! (pls be nice) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏  ✾  𝙍𝙀𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙎 are appreciated.

TODAY MARKED THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR FOUR YEARS IN COLLEGE. you walked past your university’s gates, chin tipped up and proud with a book held close to your chest, thin silver glasses framing your face, and a smile that you spent an entire hour practicing in the mirror yesterday. 

you wore the best outfit you could, but not in a trying-hard overdressed kind of way, just enough effort to make you memorable. you wanted to make a good impression, after all. 

if you could look lost enough, maybe a senior would notice you. maybe he’d ask for your schedule, walk you to class, make light gossip about the professors you have and in a few years, he’d propose to you in the same spot by the gates, and you’d say i do, and live a happy married lif—

clank!

you get snapped out of your sweet little daydream as pain shoots through your shoulder, down your left arm. “fuck.” you whisper, head snapping up to shoot a frustrated glare at the thick pole in front as if it’s the one who bumped into you.

the impact was hard enough to have your book and glasses falling to the floor with a thud, and definitely hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow because even merely moving your arm makes you wince. 

thankfully, the area was mostly empty— which meant your dream of being a college cool girl was still in play —save for a tall guy just a foot beside you. 

shit. 

he’s already kneeling down to pick your things up and before you could even bend over to help, he just looks up and gestures to you to stay still by pointing to your outfit. “skirt.” is all he says, his voice deep and quiet.

you’d normally blush at the gentlemanly gesture but instead, you do it out of pure embarrassment. 

god, this wasn’t the meet-cute you imagined. 

he hands you back your book and your glasses, freshly wiped of dirt from the hem of his faded black hoodie. you slip it on your face again and bow your head out of shame, stepping aside to escape this nightmare of an embarrassment, but before you could even attempt to, he tugs on the sleeve of your cardigan, showing you his open palm like he's telling you to stop.

and against your better judgement, you do. 

the stranger slips one of his backpack’s straps off his shoulder, fishing a box out of it and begins scribbling away with a pen cap trapped between his teeth.

you took this time to look at him— really look at him. tall, lean physique, sharp features, fair skin. he wore a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses that framed his kind-looking eyes really well. he’s stylish, no question about that.

and painfully handsome, too.

the pen is closed with a faint click and he slips it back into his hoodie’s pocket and you take that as a sign to stop checking him out lest you embarrass yourself further.

his lips purse into a straight line and his thick eyebrows furrow closer as he gives the box an intense stare, the soft eyes from a while ago turning more serious and stressed as it turns to you, back to the box, and back to you again.

the suffocating silence is shattered by two men shouting from a distance, the shorter one of them comically jumping and waving his hands in the air.

he turns to look at the source of the noise and lets out a small grunt, handing you the box and before jogging away without another word.

you stand there dumbstruck, watching the three boys interact for a while before turning on your heels, slipping the box between your chest and the book. that was odd. 

you walk to class with a sore shoulder and cheeks that still feel warm from the whole ordeal. upon finding your room, new faces give you polite smiles or nods of acknowledgement and you do the same. once you're seated and settled, you put the book down on top of your desk.

the forgotten box falls on your lap, urging you to take a closer look at it. 

menthol pain relief patches. 

you flip the box around and you're greeted by a pastel yellow post-it note stuck on the back.

“for your shoulder. please be careful next time.” 

he probably thinks you're a loser with no depth perception. and he wouldn't be wrong for thinking that, but it doesn't stop your cheeks from heating up for the nth time this morning.

you convince yourself it's okay. that your university is big, and you surely you won't meet him again. the fact disappoints you a little bit, but at least you're saved from having to face him after what happened.

you press your fingers against your forehead in stress.

first day in and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of a man. not just any man but a handsome one. a very important distinction. 

developing a crush feels on him feels pathetic. he just gave you muscle relief patches, an act of kindness that was just a little bit above the bare minimum. and he only said one word to you, for gods’ sake. but you’ve never been one to think logically, so while your lecture starts, your head starts drifting off and it’s already incorporating the good-looking, tall stranger in your romantic fantasies.

turns out, the man in your dreams wouldn’t be a senior, nor would he be gossiping with you about your professors.

instead, you’d be sharing them. 

during your third class of the day, the handsome stranger walks in the lecture hall with his two friends in tow and you immediately recognize him because of the glasses. his hands are stuffed into his hoodie as he settles on a seat a couple of rows in front of you, still as intimidating as he looked like when he gave you the box.

you learned of his name when the professor called him to read a passage in the book. 

park sunghoon. 

you think it’s a pretty name— fitting for a pretty boy like him.

sunghoon’s voice was steady while he read, smoothly pronouncing every word, clearing his throat after a mistake and resuming with the same composure. the speed at which he spoke was just right, slow enough to enunciate every syllable but not too much to bore whoever chose to listen.

"mr. park, care to share your thoughts on what you just read?"

sunghoon only stood straighter, his natural confidence in his voice making you swoon in your seat.

“i don't believe the fable's moral lesson to necessarily be applicable in real life where businesses and industries have become fast-paced. should the readers need to have a takeaway, they should focus on what the hare lacked— humility. his over-confidence is the ultimate reason for his downfall, being a creature that has already been given natural talent and an advantage on the terrain—” 

just like that, your small happy crush turned into full-blown attraction. his voice? his eloquence? damn. it’s like he’s trying (and succeeding) to make you want him.

you wish you had sat in front so you could look at him more. you could only imagine how stern he’d look, how his thick brows would meet together making him look even more gorgeous when he’s focused. but for now, you could settle for the view of his back while trying your best to listen to your professor, and not to the voice that suspiciously resembles sunghoon's playing in a constant loop inside your head. 

he’s in the rest of your classes today too, which makes the task of focusing twice as hard. you feel like a creep with the way your eyes naturally gravitate to him every time you hear his voice, or when you see a tiny bit of movement from the corner of your eye. 

so when it’s almost time to go home, you do the most un-creepy thing you can think of: wait outside the door. 

a student, and another, they all step out one by one. then he finally walks out, laughing at something his friend said before freezing mid-sentence as he catches sight of you standing with a familiar box laid out on your palm.

he looked surprised for a moment, before gripping on the single strap hanging on his shoulder, shifting uncomfortably before raising a brow like he was waiting for you to speak. 

“oh! i, uh.. i already put some on my shoulder and on my arm a while ago. there’s too much in the pack and i figured i could give it back to you since i don’t really have any use for it.” you explain, pushing it towards him. 

one of his friends gasps at the sight, quickly throwing a punch to sunghoon’s shoulder which he receives with a quiet hiss.

“what the fuck, hoon? i was looking for that! you know i have try-outs later!” the boy shouts, his australian accent thick and evident as he snatches the pack from your palm. “tch, can’t believe you lied to me.”

sunghoon gives him a cold stare, taking the patches away again before whispering something to the other boy which resulted in the rowdy blonde getting dragged away by his collar. he flipped the box over once, twice, and raised an eyebrow, seeming to notice that the post-it note was not there anymore. 

“is this what you’re looking for?” taking the neatly folded paper from your pocket, you place it on top of the box. “i’m sorry for taking it. i thought it was for me. unless you also have other friends who regularly bump into poles while actively daydreaming and you actually meant to give that to someone els—” 

sunghoon cuts you off with his index finger pressed on his own lips. he gives both back to you before flashing you a small smile, one that causes your poor little heart to thump faster.

“for you. keep it.” his words are clipped but you can feel the kindness behind them. 

say something, anything, to keep the conversation going. 

“i’m y/n, by the way.” you hold your hand out.

“i know. i’m sunghoon.” he murmurs, looking at the hand extended towards him before shaking it.

you sense the slight hesitation but the contact makes you giddy nonetheless. it’s as sweet as it is short lived because sunghoon quickly lets go, hands returning to the safety of his hoodie’s pocket. 

“huh? how’d you know? i don’t remember the professor calling me. wait- did he take attendance? shit, i forgot to say present—” 

the chuckle he lets out is low and breathy, making the words halt in your mouth. sunghoon shakes his head and his eyes do a quick scan of you before pointing to the small sticker that reads 'yoon y/n's!' on the book you've been holding.

"oh."

another beat of awkward silence.

“uh.. what’s your schedule?” you ask with a kind smile, following sunghoon as he starts walking towards your building's exit, trying not to dwell on how he started walking slower, at the perfect pace for you to keep up with his long strides. 

he fishes for his phone to show you the picture and you do the same, eyes looking at your screen then his. “we share most classes! all the ones in the afternoon.” you smile victoriously, and sunghoon releases another quiet chuckle, nodding along.

before you know it, you’ve reached the gate where his friends are waiting. he pauses, squinting his eyes at the duo who suddenly stopped talking to look between you and him, teasing grins plastered on their faces which just made sunghoon rub his temple.

“oh? who is this? a new friend?” the black-haired friend asks, a smirk on his lips while raising an eyebrow at sunghoon. 

“y/n.” sunghoon says, pointing to you. “jake.” he points to the blonde boy with an aussie accent, before turning to the tanner friend with a jawline so sharp you’re convinced you’d need more than menthol patches if you touched it. “jay.” 

sunghoon must have told them about what happened this morning because they looked at you, eyes scanning you up and down with anflash of amusement showing in their eyes. 

“hi.” you give them a shy wave and they return it with a welcoming smile, their hands gently shaking yours.

jake pulls sunghoon away, huddling on one side while whispering, their heads occasionally turning to you every now and then with synchronicity.

“what do you mean that’s her?”

“jake, pipe the fuck down!”

“are they… talking about me?” you turn to jay with raised eyebrows and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's grown familiar to this scenario. “looks like it. please forgive jake. he’s normally more… discreet when he’s curious about someone.” 

yeah, there’s nothing discreet about jake pointing his finger at you with a wide smile. sunghoon, on the other hand, is insistent on pushing jake's hand down with a pretty pink flush on his cheeks, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. very cute.

“do you guys share all your classes?” 

“yeah, we share an apartment so we were together when we chose our classes.”

“so i’d take it that you guys are close?” 

jay gives you a nod, eyes fond while he looks at his best friends. “met in middle school— and we’ve unfortunately been inseparable since then.”

“that's cute. must be nice to have people you can rely on already. college is kinda scary.” 

“you have us!” jake whispers from beside you, making you scream in surprise at his sudden presence. sunghoon shoots him a sharp glare, tugging on your cardigan for the second time today to pull you by his side.

the golden retriever looking boy presses his palms together, whispering a small apology before handing you his phone.

“sunghoon told me you have afternoon classes with us! so you can give me your number and just reach us whenever. not to brag but i’m the most popular in this trio. i'll text you whenever there’s a party. i'll getcha connected to people in no time.” he adds with a wink, pulling a laugh out of you.

“i think i’ll stick to texting you for home work.” you reply with a roll of your eyes, punching your number in jake’s phone nonetheless. 

a few more friendly words are exchanged before they wave you goodbye because jay and jake are going to your college’s basketball try-outs. sunghoon isn’t interested but is supposedly "required by law" to go because he’s their moral support.

you laugh and give both of them a fist bump for good luck before walking away, failing to catch sunghoon’s lingering stare as he watches your figure disappear.

that night, you buried yourself under your duvet, congratulating yourself for surviving your first day of freshman year and making three new friends on top of that.

just then, your phone vibrated.

💬 from: unknown number — this is sunghoon. :)

your friendship with park sunghoon slowly blossomed from that day onward. though your first meeting was full of chaos, the following months were anything but.

much like him, it was calm. respectful, even.

you would give each other a smile when you passed by one another in the mornings, he’d shoot you a text to let you know he reserved the seat next to him when you were running ten minutes late in the afternoon, or you'd remind him of tasks due the next day.

he even offer to accompany you to the university’s library when your friends weren't available, headphones on and only taking it off to tap on your shoulder when he notices you dozing off. 

one day, you asked him to grab lunch with you under the pretense of not having anyone to eat with, and then it became routine.

usually it would be just you and sunghoon but the boys would tag along every now and then. he would be noisier during those lunches, and you relished it because that’s the only time you get to see him be so comfortable and rowdy. 

you pondered what the cause could be, and eventually landed on a theory during one of your sociology classes. 

deindividuation, as your professor called it.

she said being part of a larger group can lead to a sense of reduced personal responsibility and accountability which then causes individuals to feel less inhibited and more likely to engage in behaviors they might not otherwise, including speaking loudly or interrupting.

she basically described sunghoon to a perfect t. 

because your friendship with him is quiet. his half of the friendship, to be specific.

you mostly got to know him through mere observation– his habits, things he enjoyed and things he disliked. if you didn’t discover things yourself, his friends would be the one offering sunghoon's information to you like when jay told you he has a younger sister he adored, or when jake told you that he once wanted to go to antarctica, a dream that he left behind after he took an interest in photography. 

if you were to type out every word he's said to you for the entirety of your friendship in a continuous line, you’d probably be able to fill four pages of a document in arial 11. maybe five.

if you remember correctly, his longest running sentence is “please walk on the inside part of the sidewalk next time, angel— it’s dangerous.” a yet-to-be defeated record of fourteen words. it was also the first time he called you by a pet name and it had you screaming into your pillow as soon as you got home. 

initially, you thought it’d be better to converse with him through text. and it was an improvement, yes– but only by a few notches. you’d be able to make twenty pages with the words he said through the phone, but there were still days where he’d just reply with one word.

or a single emoji. 

but sunghoon isn’t nonchalant. far from it, actually.

he laughs at your jokes— he even giggles when it's done to his type of humor. if he sees you stressing out during a pop quiz, he’d slyly push his paper towards you to let you copy his answers. and he already knows to take his sweater off and hand it to you before history class because the heater doesn’t work well in that classroom. 

almost always, he’d walk out of the classroom with his bag slung on one of his shoulders and yours on the other with the finesse of someone who's used to being reliable. you’ve never had to open your own water bottles or push through doors either because sunghoon would be the one doing it for you. all of that while wearing a proud smile.

and barely any noise.

when you ask him questions, he’d either hum to affirm, shake his head no, or shrug if he didn’t know the answer. if he’s the one asking you questions, he just gestures with his hands or fingers to get his message across.

one morning when you went to class in a new hairstyle, he pointed to it with raised brows. “ah, just wanted to try something new.” you explained. his reply was a smile and a measly thumbs up.

all that to say, he's an acts-of-service rather than a words-of-affirmation type of guy.

you always try to fill that awful silence between the both of you with endless rambles, and like the reliable person he is, he always listens with a hum here and there to let you know that he was still following your story about how your neighbor scared you shitless by trying to open your door in the middle of the night.

"—he shook the knob so hard i had to call an emergency locksmith. it’s literally the second time he did that this week! and he doesn’t even have the decency to pay me back for the fee!”

by the time you end your tirade, you’re slumped over the café’s table, cheeks squished flat on the smooth surface. he just chuckles and taps on your head with a finger and you raise it slightly. sunghoon places a sheet of tissue down and leans back, allowing you to press your face against the table again, but hygienically this time around.

“you care for my skin more than i do.” you grumble, blowing the stray hairs away from your face. 

he does it like it’s routine— because it is. 

the first time you did it, he shook his head in slight disappointment. “you’ll get acne.” he said, voice flat while pointing to his cheeks. so after months of it happening, he learned to always have tissues in his bag just in case you decided you wanted to have another ranting session.

a few minutes pass and you hear him groan before reaching over to show you his watch. two thirty-seven pm. “man. fuck history class.” you sigh, starting to pack up your things while sunghoon's already a few steps past the cafe door.

“hoonie, wait for me!” you whine, running to catch up and he pauses, looking at you over his shoulder.

he only resumes his strides when he hears the familiar taps of your footstep beside him, making him smile to himself as he shoves his hands in his pocket, walking back to class with the cold autumn wind that pushes leaves of gold and orange past his feet. 

this is what he does. if he wanted to go somewhere, he’d guide you to the destination by walking instead of telling. sometimes, because you moved at the pace of a snail, he would need to tug on your shirt or on the end of your jacket to help you keep up.

he never actually touches you. not intentionally. the usual skinship he’d initiate is a tap on your shoulder, or on the back of your hand. if he was feeling extra touchy, the most he’d give is an affectionate pat to your head. 

if you remember correctly, that has only happened seven times so far.

there was also that one time he touched your cheeks for a brief moment, but you don’t think that counts because he only did it to push your head away when jake jokingly leaned towards you with a kissy face. 

“sunghoon!” 

two heads turn around to see heeseung, a sophomore, approaching with a basketball pinned between his hand and hip. he’s a good friend of jake and jay, and by association, sunghoon’s.

“mind if i take him away for a bit?” heeseung asks you, the usual charming smile on his face as he taps on sunghoon’s shoulder. you nod and shoo them away, but not without sunghoon pointing to an empty bench first.

you head over there, one leg crossed over the other as you observe the bright smile on sunghoon’s face. words like “girls” and “after party” are thrown, and you already know it has something to do with the boys’ basketball match this weekend. 

but their words translate more like faint buzzing because you’re too busy dwelling on the way sunghoon interacts with heeseung. it’s something that has been bothering you for a good while— the way he becomes much more animated when he talks to someone. the way sentences don’t sound strained leaving his mouth.

it’s like everyone has access to a button that activates talkative sunghoon. 

everyone else but you. 

the theory of deindividuation didn’t apply to him anymore. maybe it never did.

he wasn’t technically popular, no. he was still an introvert who preferred staying on the sidelines but from what you’ve seen, anyone who was brave enough to go up to him and make friends, he accepted without protest.

weren’t you already friends with him? so why can’t he be like that with you?

your mind reels back to the time you caught him talking to a senior on the way to your next class. they were having a conversation about the cameras he liked and his history with photography, and it made you wonder for a second whether he had an identical twin his friends forgot to tell you about. you could hear the childlike fascination as he talked, voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.  

so when you asked him about cameras later that same day and all you got was a simple 'i like them', it simply broke your heart.

you've spent days thinking about why he couldn’t open up to you the same way he did with others. you’d scroll through your texts with sunghoon and it's always polite. always curt. always “how’s your weekend?” but when you ask him the same question, he’d reply with “just okay.” before turning the conversation to something about you again.

maybe he wasn’t interested in you. not in that way, at least. because why would he? he, who would make people stare whenever you walked the hallways together. he, who made every student in class stop whatever they were doing just to listen to him whenever he recited.

he, who hugged acquaintances yet can’t seem to stand the thought of his hand grazing you, his friend.

it made you overthink whether you truly were a friend to him or just another overzealous classmate forcing your unwanted presence.

you don’t even realize you’ve started tearing up until you see sunghoon kneeling in front of you, eyes full of worry as he looks into your glassy ones.

“angel? w-what’s wrong?” he asks, a hand reaching up but he bites his lips and brings it back down to his side. 

you turn your head to the side and force out a laugh. “where’s heeseung?”

“he left. tell me what’s wrong.” he says, placing a hand on your knee. he doesn’t need to tell you, because you could tell how uncomfortable he was from initiating that simple touch.

“it’s nothing. just… i think some dust got into my eyes.” you rub your eyes with your curled fist, exaggerating a few blinks before you gently push his hand off your knee. not even a second passes and you already miss the warmth of his touch. it's pathetic.

“there. it’s gone now.” you hum, pulling him up by his bag’s strap. “let’s go? mr. shin will kill us if we’re late.”

he looks like he wants to say something. but he doesn’t.

he never does.

instead, he strips off his white hoodie and hands it to you, looking at you with expectant eyes. he just stands there, your bag in his hand with the same expression until you relent and throw his hoodie over your head while rolling your eyes. 

you walk to your history class warm and smelling like a pleasant mix of sunghoon’s cologne and laundry detergent.

your exit plan hasn’t even started yet and you’re already failing. 

three weeks. 

three cruel and agonizing weeks of sunghoon missing your presence. 

he thinks it started that weekend. like heeseung suggested, he texted you an invite to the frat party to celebrate the boys’ win. he never really got a reply but he did see you arrive safely which put him a little more at ease. 

you greeted him with a breathtaking smile and the same little wave he started looking forward to receiving everyday— his biggest motivator to attend and do well in class despite the hell that it is.

you wore a short ivory white dress, blessing him with far more skin than he usually saw within the confines of yours classrooms, your hair done up to show the smooth curves of your neck and the sharp angle of your shoulders.

all he could think about is dirtying your exposed skin with marks so the annoying boys in your class would get the hint to stay away from what's his, and he hated it. you don't even know it but you make something deeply covetous stir inside him.

you’re already beautiful in his eyes, but that night you truly looked like an angel, and he wanted nothing more than to kneel and follow you towards the light. 

jiwon and gaeul snapped him out of his trance by dragging you away to the other side of the house before he can even get a word in, and all sunghoon could do is pray that you don't leave with someone else.

the after party went on. drunk people leaning against the kitchen counter, a random couple sucking each others’ faces off on the recliner by the entrance, and jay crying “foul” when he lost another round of beer pong. for the sixth time. 

sunghoon looked at his phone, brows almost meeting together as he stared at your conversation. still left on read, still no reply, but he decided to send you another one anyway. 

💬 to: angel y/n. — your dress looks nice. :)

“why’s my y/n-ie not here?” jake approached him, red solo cup in hand. 

“first of all: she’s not yours. second: you’re already slurring your words, jaeyun. sober up before we get to the car, i beg. i don’t want my car to smell like vomit again.” sunghoon grunted, trying to push the boy off as jake leaned against him for support, face pressed on his shoulder while whining about how much he wanted to see you. 

“why? you gonna try to kiss her again?”

“if it’ll annoy you. like it always does.” jake snaps back, a drunken smirk on his face. 

sunghoon rolled his eyes, taking jake’s cup and pushing him with enough force to make him land on the couch.

“you didn’t even get to kiss her sober. what makes you think your wasted ass can do it this time?” the laugh he let out is light, yet traced with a bit of venom. 

looking at jake all sprawled out on the couch and giggling like a man without a care in the world made sunghoon sneer. even thinking about that memory makes him want to knock jake out. but he knows his best friend’s teasing is only done to get a reaction out of him, to press on a particularly sensitive bruise— the bruise being his feelings for you. 

“hoon!” he turned, seeing jay from the kitchen pointing to a girl. he approached them with ease, flashing the stranger a smile. “he’s my friend who wanted to get something done.” jay said, charming as ever, palm pointed to sunghoon. 

“this is the minha, the artist i told you about. let me know when you guys agree on something, yeah?” he pat both their backs and made his exit, probably to tend to jake who was wasted and still trying to dance.

the girl turned to him with a gasp, excitedly showing the jewelry on her hand and fingers. they talked about the bracelet he wanted to be made, noting colors he did and didn’t want to include, even passionately showing her reference pictures.

in the middle of his conversation, he raised his head to look for jay but caught you instead, unreadable eyes moving from him to his new-found friend. he took a step back from her and one towards you but you vehemently shook your head, raising a hand to make him stay in place.

you gave him a smile, one that looked a little forced, a little too disingenuous and foreign in a kind face like yours. 

you mouthed ‘i’m heading home', thumb pointing to the door before waving goodbye. “wait. i— i’ll be back.” he says to minha, running and pushing his way through the crowd of bodies. when he stepped out of the front door, gaeul's car had already sped off, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust.

💬 to: angel y/n. — i didn’t get to say goodbye. :(

the three bubbles popped up on his screen. after a few minutes of watching it appear and disappear, you replied.

💬 from: angel y/n. — it’s okay, sunghoon. enjoy the party! 👍

and so ensued the twenty one days of sunghoon’s torture. 

the absence wasn’t loud. it wasn’t immediate. it was a gradual pull, like flowers in a vase slowly losing their petals and vibrant color to their unnatural environment.

you were gone, but not entirely.

though a part of him thinks it would have been more merciful if you just left outright, because the moment he starts noticing things, it’s like he can’t stop. it's the type of cruelty only you could do to him.

you didn’t sit beside him anymore, opting to return to your previous spot behind him during classes. no more loud cheering by his side when he attended the boys’ basketball practices after class. and just to rub salt to his open wound, you made gaeul and jiwon replace him in your usual lunch spot.

that was the final straw— the thing that let him knew he somehow, some way, truly fucked up.

now he can’t even use classes as an excuse to see you because of course, of course, it had to happen right before the holiday break. not only was there an emotional distance, but a physical one, too. he can’t text you either— not without looking stupid or desperate. the last message he sent read “okay. good night, y/n.” which was a reply to your dry “i think i'll sleep, sunghoon. night! :)” 

no more lunches, no more affectionate reminders of homework deadlines, and no more nicknames. things changed. and the shift, though unnoticeable to others, was strong enough for his best friends to speak up. 

“i swear to god if you sigh one more time, i’ll actually mix bleach in your coffee to put you out of whatever misery you’re in.” jay grunts, throwing the couch pillow to sunghoon, unfazed and still busy fiddling with his phone despite getting hit square on his arm.

jake takes a peek from behind the couch, a plate of their shared dinner in hand, laughing as he sees sunghoon pathetically typing and deleting different variations of 'how was your day?' into his phone without actually sending anything.

“is our y/n-ie still not talking to you?” he teases, moving to the sit on the floor, right between his best friend’s legs. the nickname rolling off jake's tongue makes sunghoon's brow twitch in irritation.

“still? i thought they were okay? didn’t she visit us during a game?”

sunghoon’s head snaps up to look at jay. “she did?” 

they nod. “the one we did before break.” 

“without me?” he says this time, voice pitched up in disbelief. 

they give him another nod.

“said she just wanted to drop by and watch us. sat with a long-haired blonde guy.” jay mumbles, giving him a shrug. 

“yeah. he seemed awfully close to her if you ask me. arm around her everything. i’m surprised they weren’t making out.” jake adds, making the other laugh as he creates horrible slurping sounds with arms wrapped around himself.

sunghoon takes the pillow from earlier and smashes it across the side of jake’s head. “you’re disgusting.” he huffs, storming to his room, feeling his heart drop lower and lower with each stomp of his feet.

he hears nothing but static, clouded eyes burning holes on the framed photo atop his bedside table: a candid shot he took using his favorite film camera of you laughing so brightly that your eyes turned into crescents.

the mere thought of someone else seeing you in that light has dinner rushing back out his mouth.

you’ve made peace with your friendship with sunghoon.

you've long accepted that it won’t turn into anything more. at some point, you were able to tune out the girls that hang around him, not caring whether they'd confess. he rejected every single one of them anyway, and you know you wouldn't be any different than those pretty crying faces if you tried.

you only cared when people approached him to have a friendly conversation because sunghoon would happily give them a memorable one. that's what made you jealous.

hell, he even got your friends. gaeul mentioned natto once and sunghoon yapped about the delicacy like a day-one fan. he shared his favorite fashion brands with jiwon too– complete with a detailed explanation on his preferences and favorite collections. 

granted, he wasn’t on the best terms with them right now because they were the ones who had to pick up the pieces of your heart when you started crying halfway through the drive back to your apartment after that cursed party.

you stood there long enough to see him laugh and giggle in amazement at whatever amazing thing the amazing girl was showing him on her phone, stood long enough to see how casually he held her hand and raised it to his face to look at her accessories. your eyes read his lips, 'you’re so cool', right before he saw you.

gaeul held you in her arms as soon as you curled up in your bed, jiwon on the other side shushing you while stroking your head. “i just— i don’t get it.” you grunted, brashly wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, the mascara-stained tears staining your bedsheets as they dropped freely.

“why he’s– why doesn't he doesn’t talk to me like that? but.. he looks at me like he likes me and— and he does things for me he doesn’t do with other people!”  

you were inconsolable, hiccuping in between sobs and screaming more words that your friends don’t understand anymore because you’re crying too much. they just exchanged tired looks while rubbing on your arm until you were exhausted enough to sleep. 

the morning after, while pressing frozen spoons on your swollen eyelids, you were determined to treat him as he did you— sweet and kind, but from a safe distance. close enough to keep your friendship with him together, but far enough so you wouldn’t have to feel your heart get stomped on when you hear him ramble about his passions to someone else. 

he still attempted to ask about you through texts, tried to talk about the weather, or your progress on a project. he never brought up the topic of this weird drift in your relationship and neither did you.

at first, you replied within the same hour, then the same day, then after three days and so on. 

ignoring him became easier when you went back home because you couldn’t see him, couldn't feel the hairs on your nape stand straight whenever his inspecting gaze was stuck on you. you could put your notifications on mute and pretend you fell asleep when he shoots you another text to ask what's keeping you so busy.

half-way through the holiday, the ringtone you set specifically for sunghoon stopped ringing and you knew he stopped trying to reach you.

were you sad? were you relieved? you didn't know.

but what you do know is that you have to keep up this act. so even after the second semester started, you diligently stuck to your new routine. nods in the hallway, civil hi’s and ‘hello’s in the classroom, hoping and praying that your feelings would slip away the same way you were slipping from him.

you marked today’s date with another x — thirty six days since the rift, twenty nine days since the texts stopped.

ten days since random letters started appearing.

you didn’t think he was trying to hide it. and if he did, he was doing a shit job because you were able to recognize his penmanship with just a glance— sunghoon had an odd way of writing the letter y, after all. a different kind of neat with a little flick at the end. 

some days, the letters would be slipped in through your locker, and on busier days, it would be on your desk accompanied with food. the drinks varied, but the pastry stayed the same. an almond croissant from your favorite café— the one you used to hangout with him. 

“i don’t know what i did, but i hope you know i’m sorry.” 

that’s the first letter he wrote. written in a plain piece of yellow pad, contrasting the way it’s elegantly wrapped — in an ivory envelope with a small heart sticker sealing it. you made your friends read it, too. and gaeul cackled loudly, teasing you for immediately turning soft and wanting to run back into sunghoon's arms.

“you’re seriously folding as quick as he folded that half-assed letter.” she said in amusement, chopsticks roughly poking through the seaweed roll on jiwon’s lunch box. the blonde just rubbed your shoulder in understanding, shooting the older girl a glare. “don’t blame our y/n! she’s just a girl in love.”

"hopeless romantics, the two of you." the other girl replied with a shake of her head.

since that day, the letters have improved. still in the same off-white envelope, the same red heart-shaped sticker. the content was different each time, but they made your heart race all the same.

“your hoodie today looks comfortable. i hope you’re staying warm.” “i’ve been thinking about how you're the only one that who understands me even when i don’t say a lot. i'm grateful for that.” “i saw you crying today behind the bleachers. you said it was just from a yawn. it must have hurt a lot if you couldn’t tell anyone. next time you want to yawn again, just call for me, okay?” “i look at you a lot, but i think of you even more. what do i do with you?”

you push the small calendar inside your locker and sigh softly as you peel the heart sticker off, eyes reading through today’s letter. 

“it was drizzling today and i felt so much more sullen. it made me realize how much i keep searching for the voice, the presence that made everyday brighter. i miss you, y/n.”

you hate how your first instinct is to look around. to check if you’ll see the same annoyingly handsome, glasses-wearing face that’s been haunting you for the past month. but of course, he isn’t there. so you fold the letter again.

another one added to the collection of the letters that you keep safely in your room so you can read it again later tonight.

away from the crowd of students flocking to their lockers, sunghoon stands with a soft smile on his face as he watches you slip the envelope in your bag. when you close the metal door shut, he takes it as a sign to walk back to jay and jake, hands in his pocket, grinning in victory. 

“she didn’t throw your corny letter away this time?” jake howls and sunghoon’s smug expression falls into one of panic, making him smack the boy in the back of his head.

“she never did, idiot. and keep your voice down.” 

jay raises his eyebrow. “i don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her. surely it’s easier to just do that rather than… writing all this extra shit every night. who are you? shakespeare?”

sunghoon just sighs and shakes his head, his thumb reaching up to scratch his adam’s apple. “you don’t understand, and pray that you never do. because this shit? it ain’t easy.” 

too much projects still left in your to-do list, too many passive-aggressive comments from useless group mates that you chose to ignore for the sake of keeping the peace, and one-too-many snide remark from a stranger in the women’s bathroom about how ‘interesting’ your shoes are.

needless to say, it's been a rough week.

most of the students have gone home by now. your girlfriends bid you goodbye an hour ago and you stayed behind, opting to work on your essay in an empty classroom because your head wouldn't work if tried to finish it at home. the fact that you'd have a meaningful rest tomorrow gave you the last push you needed to press submit.

tired footsteps echo down the empty hallway as you use your remaining energy to trudge towards your locker. it opens with a bleary rattle and you find a square box laid atop an envelope. 

it’s been a while since sunghoon left you one.

you push the heavy books inside before reaching for the black suede box, the fuzzy material tickling your fingertip as you push the top open.

inside, a bracelet. fine silver chains alternating with four round glass beads– pink and green blooming from the center like ink dropped in still water. a flat silver rectangle hangs in the center with the corners of it smoothly rounded out, and embellished with detailed carvings of flowers around the edges. on the back, an engraving of your name.

why would he do this? 

you carefully return the bracelet inside its case and reach for the envelope with pursed lips. you close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

you need to prepare yourself for what you're about to read. if this one's as sweet as his past letters, your resolve— the tiny amount left of it —wouldn't be able to hold you back, especially considering how worn out you are.

"you must have been having a hard time lately— the y/n who’s precious to sunghoon. i hope we can talk again because i want you to tell me that today was tough. i want to be the one you lean on— and the one who tells you that you’re doing a good job regardless. i know you’ve been suffering through a lot, and i want you to know that i’m here.”

the corner of the paper crumples in your tightening fist as you tilt your head up to keep your tears from smudging more of the black ink. you stand in place, trying your best to control your breathing, teeth biting down on your chapped lips as your eyes run over the last words.

“you’ve worked hard, angel. i'm proud of you.”

your shaky hands close the locker door, forehead leaning against it as you hold the letter close to your chest, quietly sniffling with your head hung low, hot tears falling directly on the dirty tiles. “he saw me. he always sees me.” you whisper to yourself, shoulders shaking as your pained cries begin to overtake your body.

there's a faint warmth radiating on your back and your nose picks up notes of sandalwood and leather cutting through the sterile scent of alcohol mixed with floor cleaners.

sunghoon.

he towers over you, body trapped in between his and the cool metal of the lockers as if to hide you from invisible prying eyes. his sturdy arms flip you around, one hand moving to your head to carefully guide it towards his chest, and the other wrapping around you to give your back gentle soothing pats. 

as always, he doesn’t say anything. just wraps you in his arms while his fingers comb through the ends of your hair. 

the two of you stand there until your loud cries are replaced with small hiccups. 

there's a small, shameful whine that leaves your lips when sunghoon pulls away from the hug, but he leans in again, long legs slightly folding to match your height until his face is just a couple of inches away from yours. behind the thick black glasses, his dark orbs gaze into you with worry written all over his face.

you can’t help but feel irritated at how good he looks despite the cheap fluorescent lights hanging overhead.

still as handsome as the first day you saw him— just a little rugged this time around. he looks tired. frazzled. perhaps just as exhausted as you. the dilated vessels turned the whites of his eyes pink, and there’s a faint blue tint on his under eyes that make him look like he’s been losing sleep. 

a selfish part of you hopes you’re the reason for it. 

“i wanted to comfort you, and yet i still managed to make you cry.” he says with a sad smile, both hands cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to your lashes. “i’m sorry, angel.” he whispers before hugging you again, making you sigh in comfort. 

you missed hearing that nickname. you missed his voice, his face, his scent, even his stupid glasses.

you just missed sunghoon in general. 

the days you stayed apart drove him crazy too. it gave him the courage to hug you tighter, foregoing his fears and anxieties as he squeezes you in his arms. “i missed you. i think i still do, even now.” he whispers, lips brushing on the crown of your head.

sunghoon held your wrist as he walked outside your department's building to an empty bench.

the pink and peach tones in the sky have disappeared, replaced by the artificial neon orange from the street lamps. the trees are starting to grow their leaves back too, but the cool breeze still nipped at your skin like leftover air from winter trying to leave.

it was cold, but not painful nor unbearable. just enough to keep you alert, aware of how warm your side is from how close sunghoon is sitting beside you. aware of how he made more room by throwing an arm behind and casually resting it on the bench’s backrest so he could cuddle closer.

it feels like whiplash, the way he can’t keep himself from playing with your fingers when a month and a half ago, his obvious choice would be to hold the ends of your shirt like touching your skin would burn him. 

and it does. it still does. 

but who could blame sunghoon? he was an addicted man who got a taste of your touch and firmly decided he’d rather get simultaneously run over, stabbed multiple times, and be set on fire than spend another moment without him holding you or vice versa. kick him too while you’re at it. 

he doesn’t care as long as he can feel you.

“i’m sorry.” he says again, voice as gentle as the way he’s squeezing your index fingers’ knuckles, both pairs of eyes looking at everything else but each other.

you let out a bemused laugh. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

he's stays mum, tongue running across his lower lip and you catch the faint pink color tinting the shell of his ears.

“i don’t. b-but… i do know that whatever i did was enough to push you away from me." he says eventually. "i hope you know it was never intentional. i— i wouldn’t ever ever do anything to hurt you. i understand if you don’t want to tell me what... wrong i did, but i can promise that if you do, i’ll do my best not to do it again.”

his shy mumbles contrast the way he bravely pushes his fingers between yours, the now-interlocked hands resting on his thigh moving up and down as he anxiously bounces his leg.

laughter shatters the solemn atmosphere, causing his head to snap to its source, the evident frown on his face growing deeper. “are you— did you just laugh at my apology?” sunghoon asks with an incredulous expression, making you laugh even harder. still, he can’t help his lips from quirking up at the sight. 

he likes this. he likes holding your hand and hearing you laugh. 

“it’s just— 'm sorry.” you pause, trying to swallow down another fit of giggles trying to burst out. “i just think it’s funny. that’s a new record.”

“what record?”

“the record of most words you’ve said to me at once. the previous one’s fourteen words, i think.”

sunghoon stares, head tilted to one side in confusion. 

“think about it, sunghoon. classes and group lunches aside, you’ve never actually spoken to me properly. it’s never a conversation, it’s almost always just single words.” you let go of his hand only to lay yours on top of his and giving it a couple taps. “or stuff like this.” 

“—it’s like... like you have a word limit. but only when it comes to me.” 

the muscle on his jaw twitches as he sees the little smile on your visage falter, the slight crack in your voice mirroring the one growing in his heart. he wants to object, to defend himself but he knows he wouldn’t have anything proper to say.

“at first i thought it was just because you were shy— but i’ve seen the way you talk to your friends, to my friends.. everyone. everyone loved talking to you, and you seemed to have fun talking with them too. i just don't get why you treat me so different."

sunghoon's hand grips on his own thigh to execute a punishment upon himself. until it hurts, until it stings. but he bears it because he knows it's too light compared to the hurt you've had to silently carry throughout your time with him.

"it sucks that you don’t like me enough to share your hobbies with me, sunghoon. that i have to know you through our mutual friends rather than getting to know you from what you say to me. i—” a pause. “i just gave up because i knew i’m not worth your time, or your effort to speak. that's why i stayed away.”

“y/n… angel, it’s— it’s not like that. i swear.” he cups your cheek to make you look at him. you were still smiling, and yet he saw the sadness in your eyes. the uncertainty.

he hates himself for being the cause of it. 

“then what is it, sunghoon? why don’t you talk to me?” 

“because—” sunghoon takes a deep inhale and purses his lips before finally confessing. “because i don’t know how to.” 

just as the weight is lifted from his shoulders, he feels an even heavier one get dropped back down. he knows there’s no going back. not when you’re looking at him with dissatisfaction in your eyes.

“there’s a reason why i resorted to writing letters instead, y/n. it’s just that…  just— y-you— i’m— fuck!” exasperated, he pulls his hand away from you, using it to rub on his temples instead.

then one travels down and you see as his fingers starts to scratch the base of his neck, nails digging deep into his skin. 

it's one of sunghoon’s habits you’ve noted— an ugly one. the first few times it happened, you tried to talk him out of it, told him how scared you were that he’d hurt himself, but he told you it was to help ground him when he feels frustrated.

like the stubborn man that he is, sunghoon continues to scratch harder and harder, half of his face scrunched up irritation. and true to your fear, he lets out a wince when a thin red gash on the space between his collarbones started to bleed red.

“sunghoon, stop.” you sigh, his wrists tightly trapped in your hold. 

when he turns his head to look at you, he looks like his world has collapsed in itself. he's devastated. broken. 

“i.. i want to explain. i swear, i just—” he closes his eyes tight, hands curling into tight fists under your hold as his chest puffs from how heavy he's breathing. you gently pry each finger open to see deep crescents on his palms. a frown is etched on your lips at the sight, and you know sunghoon’s not faring any better with the way he slumps against you, head rested on your shoulder. 

“they won’t come out..” he finally says after prolonged silence, his voice thin and raspy.

“what won’t, hoon?” 

“... nothing. please let me—” his breaths are trembling, and though you don’t see it, you could feel him holding back from scratching at his neck again.

“whatever it is can wait. just.. don’t. don't do that again.” you mumble, letting go of one of his hands so you could wrap your arms around his shoulder, your palm running up and down his tensed arm while he messily wipes the bleeding scar with his sleeve.

he waits until his breathing turns even before he speaks again.

“are you.. doing anything tomorrow, angel?” 

“hm. no. why?” 

“i… missed you. it’s been so long since i last talked to you.”

“that’s weird. i clearly remember that i was the only one doing all the talking.” you reply with a nudge to his shoulder, hoping your teasing voice is enough to lighten the atmosphere.

“hey! don’t be a smart-ass. you know what i mean. it’s been.. what? like, forty one? maybe forty two days since we hung out properly.”

you lean away from his side.

“you’ve been counting too?” 

“too? so you also did it?” he raises his brow, the previous frown growing into a teasing smile as soon as he sees your expression, like you're glitching between the choice of fight or flight.

“would you look at that. seems like the misery over winter break was mutual.” he says, tone a little too proud for your liking, so you choose fight. you take the soft skin of his cheeks in between your fingers, pinching and stretching it with a whiny sunghoon trying to push your hand away. 

you succumb to his pained pleads to stop.

you lean in closer to soothe the skin with your thumb while laughing under your breath and sunghoon’s eyes slowly flutter close at the touch, head tilting closer to your hand as if to encourage you to continue.

“this is nice.” he whispers, raising his hand and laying it on top of yours to keep it there. 

you want to ask him what stopped him from asking for your touch because it wouldn't even take a heartbeat for you to say yes. you wanted to know why you weren’t given the privilege of seeing him this needy, this vulnerable and bare. yet you kept your mouth shut.

“the university is a place for learning, kids. not dating.”

the sweet little moment is interrupted by an older man, a security guard, pointing his plastic baton at the two of you. “and it doesn’t look like you’re in grad school either, which means you’re not allowed to loiter in university grounds.” he adds, making sunghoon stand straight, head tilted forward to give him an apologetic bow.

“we’re sorry, sir! w-we didn’t notice the time. we’ll be heading home. i promise.” his taller body instinctively steps once to the side, covering you like shield.

the guard tilts his head, brows raised at the odd couple in front of him but his eyes soften as soon he sees the dopey smile on sunghoon’s face when his hands blindly reach out behind him in search of yours. “i better not catch you staying here after-hours again, alright? now go. scram!” 

sunghoon turns around and smoothly slings your bag over his other shoulder like he always used to, your hand held firmly in his as the both of you run to the exit gates giggling like children.

“girls. he just texted me. said he’ll pick me up in an hour.”

you set your phone screen-down on your vanity. jiwon’s behind you, scrolling through pinterest in search for a proper hairstyle inspo and gaeul’s lying on her stomach on top of your bed, busily typing away as she tries to cram her essay. 

thank god you had the foresight to finish it yesterday because one, that meant you got to reunite with sunghoon— who apparently waited for you by the lockers that day —and two, because he was serious about hanging out today.

he double, no, triple checked that you actually wanted to go with him while he walked you to the bus stop, refusing to let go of your hand until you safely got in. 

“i can’t believe that doofus finally got the courage to ask you out. we were wondering how long he’d take.” gaeul chirps up, fingers still busy tapping on her keyboard. 

“finally? what do you mean finally? and what you do mean we?” your hands pause from applying your blush, head craning towards your bed to stare at your dear friend who just stares back with a straight face.

“oh, y/n. don’t be dumb."

"i'm serious!"

"jake and jay? us? we’ve all seen it since we started hanging out. you’re the only one who gets mister congeniality all nervous and speechless. now look in the mirror before i accidentally burn your cheek.” jiwon says, carefully taking your curling wand and a section of your hair. 

“it’s so cute, it’s almost pathetic. but i’m still mad at him for making you cry like that, you know. he better make it up to you today, or else i’m gonna drag his stupid ass through the school field. by his ears.” gaeul says with a face that let you know she intends to follow up on her words.

jiwon continues to hum whilst curling your hair and you try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you apply your gloss.

when you look in the mirror, you can't help but ponder how much your body knew you needed sunghoon because you’re glowing. you look well-rested despite only catching three hours of sleep because of how badly you anticipated this date.

meanwhile sunghoon, alone in his car, is practically vibrating in excitement. or nervousness. he doesn’t know, really. he thinks he stopped being able to differentiate which feeling is which since he saw you that day.

he spent those thirty minutes routinely checking his rearview mirror: is something stuck between the gaps of his teeth? he flossed again just in case. is his hair styled correctly? didn't prevent him from running his fingers through it a few more times. should he put on his coat or would that look too much? fuck, what if he over dressed and you think he’s cringe? 

god, he wasn't even this jittery with his exes.

it's different because he's never actually hung out with you without the excuse of classes or other university-related events. it's different because he's never actually seen you outside the usual café you spend free periods in or under the flashing strobes of the college frat house.

it's different because it's his first date with you, and he's adamant not to make this the last.

ding.

💬 from: my angel. — hoonieeeeee ! i’m almost done. :D 

he glanced at his watch.

fifteen minutes left.

enough time for him to drive once around your block, get out of the car, walk to the passenger’s side and coolly lean against it while pretending he wasn’t an inch away from having a mental breakdown a few moments earlier. 

and when sunghoon finally sees you walk out in a satin dress, he’s convinced he might actually have one. 

“hey there, big guy. you look handsome today. well.. you always do. but today especially! i really like your fit!” you say, adorning that bright smile that sunghoon found so captivating.

the plan to look cool immediately got crushed.

he tried to stand up straight, he did. but he ended up leaning again on his car— not to look charismatic. rather, he needed to, because he was barely feeling his knees. his heart was racing, his breathing turned short, and he began feeling the all-too-familiar prickling sensation in his throat. 

“don’t go quiet on me again, or i’ll ignore you. forever this time.”

he looks more made-up, different from the usual hoodie and jeans combo you always saw. still knee-buckling attractive, but clean. khaki trousers adorning his long legs, thin black belt around his hips and a loose blue-colored polo with thin stripes, the sleeves folded to accentuate his forearms. 

there’s a small sense of satisfaction that comes to you when you realize your outfits make you look like a couple. it seems gaeul made the lucky choice of getting you to wear a baby blue today, but you’ll just thank her for that later. 

“your hair’s.. n-nice.” sunghoon says, a bashful smile growing on his face. “o-oh! and– and i have this!” he opens the rear door of his car, and you hear it slam again before he turns around to present you with a bouquet of flowers.

white petals with vivid yellow blooming from the center, wrapped in crumpled iridescent foil and pastel blue paper.

“daffodils. the lady at the flower shop said it symbolizes new beginnings. and— a-and i want that. a new beginning. with you.” he stammers awkwardly, nibbling on his lower lip as his hands push the bouquet towards you. 

you can only coo at his words, fawning over how cute and small he looked right now despite his height. so fucking adorable, this one.

pushing past the bouquet, your arms find purchase around his torso and you squeeze him in your arms. it takes him a second to return it and you feel him release a sigh, one done out of relief and longing, before leaving a gentle kiss on your hair as he lets you go. 

sunghoon opens the passenger seat of his car for you with his signature shy smile, tipping his head to the side.

“get in, angel. i have a lot of making up to do.” 

he takes you driving around first, wanting to spend a little more time together with you in the privacy of his car before he shares you with other people. one hand on the wheel and the other keeping yours warm, he aimlessly drove around while narrating how he spent his winter break with his family.

his dad took him and his two honorary siblings, jay and jake, to a skiing resort. his mom bought him a new camera as his holiday present, and he casually slipped in wanting to test it out next time with you.

in between those stories, sunghoon admitted that his younger sister was the one to suggest the idea of leaving you letters. the confession leaves his lips in between sheepish laughter, resulting in both your cheeks turning pink. 

your heart felt full listening him be so engrossed in his stories, at one point even letting go of the steering wheel to imitate how jake wobbled in his snowboard. sure he still stuttered every now and then, still held himself back from cussing too much on the off chance you’d get turned off, but those are tiny details you’re determined to work through with him. 

he asked about you too, and you talked about the boring train ride back to your old little town, how the place looked like it was frozen in time with the same faces, same remarks about how you look like a carbon copy of your mom. sunghoon just listens intently, a smile on his face as he steals glances of your face from time to time.

you also talked about how you spent a week trying to get dye stains off your hands when your older brother painstakingly made you dye his blonde hair to black in preparation for the new season.

sunghoon’s hand tighten around yours. blonde. 

“what about.. uh.. dates? did you go out with anyone while we weren’t in contact with each other?” 

“hm. not that i recall? there were a few boys in my town, but i know they’re just messing with me.”

sunghoon’s right hand leaves yours to grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and lips turning into a straight line as he stares at the road ahead.

perhaps he’d been mistaken. maybe this is just how you get when you’ve grown closer to someone. maybe the hand holding or the comforting touches you gave him were ones you also gave to other people. maybe you had taken his invitation as a hang out rather than a date and that’s why you agreed despite having someone else waiting on you.

“the boys saw him, you know. if— if you’re still talking to him then… t-then what are we doing right now?”

the change in his tone isn’t lost on you, nor the hardened expression he wears. from the side of his eye, he catches the befuddled look on your face like you genuinely cannot remember the accusation being true. 

“him? who? i— hoon, what are you talking about?”

the mere memory of his friends’ words, of that man, urges sunghoon to pull over to the side of the road so he can face you because when call him an presumptuous loser and friend-zone him, he at least wants to see your pretty face do it.

“jay said he saw you come to their game with a guy. long hair. blonde. said he was clinging on you like a damn shirt.” 

when you laughed at his confession yesterday, he’ll admit he found it cute. but when you do it today, it does nothing else but make his scowl look more sour.

“is this little laughing-at-sunghoon thing a habit you’ve developed over winter break? because this isn’t funny to me.” he glowers, brows furrowing as your laughter increases in pitch, palms repeatedly slapping against your knee. 

“you—” your fingers point to him with a snicker, face looking pained as you try your darndest to hold back a laugh but it comes out anyway.

sunghoon crosses his arms over his chest, thick eyebrow cocked up while gazing at you with an unamused expression. “y/n. i’m serious. if you have a guy back home, you can tell me. it’ll break my heart, yes, but i don’t want to take part in whatever open relationship you guys hav—” 

“sunghoon, that was my brother.” 

“what?”

“tall guy. long hair. blonde. my brother.”

“that was... jeonghan hyung?”

“yes, dummy. jeonghan just wanted to take see at how the basketball team was keeping up now after he graduated. he’s an alumni, remember? you know he had blonde hair. you even hogged my phone all to yourself when he facetimed me that one time.”

it’s your turn to have your arms folded on your chest, tilting your head with a little sass, lips curled in a smirk. wordlessly, his body snaps to the front and he attempts to start the engine again, but you clutch his wrist just in time.

“no— you can’t just say that and ditch the conversation. you’re gonna explain yourself right now, park sunghoon.” 

the sound of his full name said in such a stern voice makes him squirm in his seat.

“i– i was jealous, okay? what more do you want me to say?” he grumbles, looking out the window while weakly attempting to shake your hold off of him, letting out a grunt that barely sounds like your name as you refuse to back down. 

he sighs in defeat, and you can see the sharp tic of his jaw tensing up.

“you weren’t talking to me. barely even looked my way. of course i was worried when my friends started talking about how you went to their practice without me. with a new guy, at that. it just.. the thought didn’t make me feel good. c-can we leave it now? this is embarrassing.”

a satisfied smile pushes your cheekbones up as you turn the keys, giving his shoulder a pat. 

“drive, big guy.” 

sunghoon made a reservation for the restaurant you mentioned months ago in passing. it’s nothing upscale or expensive. no wines or steaks. just the regular korean food you’re used to, but elevated just a little bit to make it taste more contemporary rather than home-made.

but you didn’t really care for that. the sole reason you wanted to go was their aesthetic: the dining area looked like the inside of a greenhouse with its sunroof ceiling, leaves and flowers hanging from wooden beams, and the lighting was just warm enough to set the ambience. 

a hand on the small of your back courteously guided you towards your seat, and you’re too enamored by the interior to notice sunghoon staring at you with eyes full of admiration, his elbow resting on the table so he could comfortably continue to look at you in silence while you take in every detail of your surroundings. 

true to his words, sunghoon makes up for his shortcomings.

he refills your drinks, debones the meat for you, constantly fills your plate before your food even runs out, and he apparently even paid for the meal in advance.

throughout the meal, sunghoon indulges you in short stories, letting you take on the role of the listener rather than the yapper this time around. he's telling you about penguins in antarctica and you hum, taking a sip of your drink when you notice one tiny, yet very clear difference in him today. 

he wasn’t wearing his glasses. 

you know he has a collection of them, and he switches things up every now and then. from thick boxy clear glasses, to the trendy ones you’ve seen models rock on social media.

your favorite pair would have to be the rimless silver ones he wore during your department’s post-exam party because they make him look unreal— like a real-life manhwa character. but he usually wore the good ol’ reliable thick black ones to lectures. 

the glasses had their charm but without them, he’s a different kind of handsome. his features look sharper, especially with the warm lighting casting shadows from his tall, unobstructed nose bridge. his eyes look clearer and more expressive too.

on the side of his chin, a tiny mole. and then another one. black dots mapped out across his fair skin, all varying in size and but your eyes lock on the distinct one under his eye, and one on the side of his nose, right below where his glasses’ nose pad would sit.

no wonder you didn’t see it.

“you’re checking me out? so blatantly?” sunghoon pipes up, and you notice how the mole under his eye moves when he raises an eyebrow at you. it makes you giggle, reaching forward to poking the round dot under his eye.

“i didn’t know you had moles.” you mumble, rubbing on the skin with extra gentleness before leaning back. “kind of reminds me of someone i met when i was a kid.”

“hm? do tell.” 

“ah, it’s nothing. there used to be this kid in my hometown who had moles like yours. god, that was years ago. i was really young— around eight or nine years old, i think. i met him at a playground where older boys were making fun of him for it.” 

“let me guess. you defended him from the big bad bullies and he fell in love with you?” 

“defended him, yeah. jesus, they were assholes. the memory is hazy, but i tried to comfort him by chasing him around and stuff. i tried to go back to the playground again the next day after my classes, but he never came back.” you poke at your left overs with your fork, the distant memory making a grin dance on your lips.

“but falling in love? highly doubt it. told him my name but i never got his back. all i remember's his cute moles. he might as well have been an imaginary friend.” 

“i say defending a kid like that can definitely make them fall for you.”

“are you speaking from experience, mister?”

"partly."

you smile, cupping your hands behind your ear, making sunghoon chuckle as he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“when i was a kid, i used to be so timid— waaaaay way worse than i was with you.” he says, and the way his eyes widen when he extends his words make you giggle.

“never talked to my classmates, always stayed at home. even my cousins who visited can’t get a word out of me. my parents tried making me do hobbies to get me out of my shell. you name it, i did it. and it helped, but only by a little. then they thought maybe going to the city might help my introversion. my little sister was growing up, too, so they started looking for a place here in seoul.” 

your elbows perch on the table, chin resting above your interlocked fingers as you give him a dreamy nod. “mhm. and then?” 

“and then the day before we moved, i decided i’m gonna try playing with the kids from my town. just to give it a last shot. except they teased me a lot because i wasn’t talking. they made fun of my moles, too. but then—” sunghoon pauses.

“this strange girl came shouting. i’ve never seen her before. think she went to a different elementary school, but she fought the boys off even though they were taller than her. she threatened to throw rocks at their heads and pull their hair out. and you know what? they looked scared. i think that was the first time i saw genuine fear.” he says, breaking out in a fit of giggles.

“picture this: i was half a foot taller than her but she was reprimanding me and pushing me to stand up straighter, saying i should learn how to speak up and fight back. that no one would fight my battles for me but me. since then, i started doing it— practicing my speech skills and self confidence. eventually, i stopped cowering whenever strangers approached me and i learned how to speak without my voice shaking. it's all thanks to her.” 

when his monologue is over, sunghoon just grins at you like reminiscing alone was enough to comfort him. you feel a little irritated, jealous of the way he speaks so affectionately of her memory.

but at the same time, you can’t help but smile back. that's how you feel about your own little friend after all.

“so you fell in love?"

"i wouldn't be so hasty to call it love. perhaps admiration. deep admiration."

"don’t tell me you never told her your name like my old friend?”

his chuckle is mirthful as he shakes his head. “oh believe me, i did. swear on it. either she didn’t hear me, or she’s deaf because she just started calling me ‘pengoo’ instead of my name.”

pengoo. 

it’s familiar. 

you squint your eyes once more as you see the dimple on his cheek appear, the indentation becoming deeper as he flashes you a knowing smile.

pengoo, pengoo, pengoo. 

wait.

“his shirt. that was the shirt he was wearing...” you trail off in a whisper, the words barely audible as you point your hands at sunghoon, and he just smiles even wider, nodding his head slowly. 

you sit there in stunned silence, hands crossed over your mouth as you stare at the sunghoon whose look of pride turned into concern, nervous of the crystal clear shock on your face. he's cautious as he offers his open palm on the table, skittish and biting his lip when you still refuse to hold his hand.

he calls out your name with such gentleness that you’re transported back to that day— to the little, but still taller boy who had tears in his eyes, looking ridiculous and snotty while sporting a white shirt with a penguin patch.

the one who you affectionately called 'cookies and cream' for the specks of black splattered across his face, whose tears you wiped using your special barbie handkerchief, whose arm you scribbled your name on with your glittery purple pen that he wanted to taste because it smelled like grape juice.

though the memory isn’t as clear as it was to you years ago, he was a constant in your life. whenever you encountered people who leaned more towards timidity, it's him who appeared in the back of your mind. the nameless friend who you never saw again after his worried mom fetched him from the playground.

except he's not nameless anymore, and he's sitting right in front of you.

the salty tears burn when you try to hold them back, but they're insistent on coming out so you hang your head low and attempt to contain your sniffles. panicked, sunghoon gently holds on your arm and guides you outside of the restaurant to a more secluded spot in the front lawn. 

“y/n.” he calls out again, pale hands gently squeezing on your hips as he bends down, trying to take a peek of your face that you insist to cover. “angel… did i make you cry again?” he sighs and you shake your head, quickly taking him in your arms, hugging him like how a mother would her child who’s come back from war. 

“my pengoo.. my pengoo.” you choke out in between stifled sobs, stroking his head. his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off of the ground for a moment as his face settles on the crook of your neck, nose brushing against the skin as he whispers back.

“it’s me. pengoo’s here. you're okay. i'm not leaving.” his words do nothing but make you cry harder, tears staining his shirt and fists crumpling the fabric on his back. 

“i can’t believe it’s you. i–”

"do you want to talk about this somewhere else, angel?” sunghoon asks in a soft voice, a tone he reserved only for you, carefully wiping your damp under eyes.

a nod is all he needs.

the travel is silent aside from the small little sniffles you do and the faint melody from the car’s speaker. your eyes blankly stare outside, the view of the buildings just as blurry as the thoughts and memories running in your head. meanwhile sunghoon’s trying his best to console you, his thumb lazily rubbing the skin on the back of your hand while stealing glances every now and then.

“where are we?” you croak out when the car comes to a halt. sunghoon opens the car door, his fingers nimble as they take your seatbelt off for you. “a park near my neighborhood. in one of my favorite spots to rest my head which you need to do.”

his hand return to yours so he can pull you towards the picnic area.

sits down on a bench and you elect to sit on the wooden table itself, head craning as you take in the new environment. the place is beautiful. quiet, serene and full of trees that it looks like a modern glitch in the middle of a forest.

“you’re not gonna kill me for knowing your secret, are you?” you sniffle, feet gently nudging the side of his thigh with a soft chuckle.

“no people, no witness. i’m sorry, y/n. can’t have people knowing i was a loser back in the day.” he says in a gurgled voice after looking around, playfully pinching your arm which makes you squeal and swat his hands away. 

in the middle of play fighting, your eyes catch the swing set nearby and you remember him again. pengoo.

the flashback is so clear you could almost see a younger version of yourselves: you, pushing him on the swing, and him using his voice properly for the first time to scream ‘stop!’ when his seated body lifts too high off the ground.

you turn to sunghoon, the real, grown sunghoon, and he’s already looking up at you with one hand resting on your covered knee, giving it languid strokes with his thumb. 

"penny for your thoughts?"

“why, hoon? i mean.. if you knew all along, why didn’t you tell me?” you reach for his cheek and his eyes close at the contact, letting out a soft sigh of comfort. he holds it in place, tilting his head to leave a light kiss on your palm.

“i’m sorry. if you want me to be honest, i had no plans to let you know. i wasn’t even aware you remembered that day. for all i knew, i was just one of the strangers who got bright little y/n’s help.”

“you… you grew up so well.” salty tears blur your vision again as you lean down to press your lips against his forehead.

“i couldn’t have done it without you. that was a significant event in my formative years— i seriously can’t imagine what kind of life i’d live if i hadn’t met you that day.” he stands up so he can tower over you, looking down to wipe the wetness from your eyes. 

“you're my savior. my angel in every sense of the word.” 

you walk around the area holding each other’s hand, going over your first meeting— the actual one — the one you had before you met again as grown ups.

he tried talking his parents out of moving, and though they were surprised at his sudden enthusiasm, they ultimately refused because the new house in seoul was already paid for. he waited for you that morning, until the last second— until his parents were yelling at him from the car. 'i think i left a piece of my heart in that playground.' are his exact words.

his search didn't stop there. night and day he bothered his parents to contact anyone they could from their previous town, to ask if anyone had a child with your name. but because his parents were like him— aloof and private, nothing really turned up.

but he was a kid determined to keep you alive and present in his mind so when he met you again that fortunate morning in university, he immediately knew it was you without even hearing your voice.

every day he stayed by your side was spent in awe, marveling at the woman you’ve become. 

there wasn’t much difference, physically nor emotionally. obviously you’ve matured and grown into your features— but you still talked in the same cadence, spoke your mind with just as much enthusiasm, and still cared for people the same way you did to the young boy in the playground.

still the same girl who’d get him too flustered to talk properly.

“so jay and jake knew about me the whole time too?” you ask after arriving at the parking area and sunghoon lifts you up to sit on the hood of his car. he nods, comfortably settling between your parted legs as his hands rest on your thighs. 

“of course. they were the first to know about my childhood crush after all.” 

“childhood crush, huh. what about now? am i still a crush?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes, the cute little dip on his cheek becoming more evident.

“you know the answer to that already, angel.” he replies, pulling you closer to him by your hips and your arms naturally loop around his neck like they were always meant to be there.

you don’t know whether it’s the long day you’ve had, or the insane revelation of who sunghoon has been this whole time, but your head’s starting to spin.

perhaps it’s his cologne, how it’s starting to smell is stronger and stronger as his body leans closer to yours. or maybe it’s the way you feel too warm in your own skin whenever his eyes drop to your lips, and how he his sharp fangs poke out when he bites his in return.

it’s like the air turned heavy in a matter of a few seconds and the cool breeze is doing nothing to thin out the tension in the wide empty space.

from this close, you could hear his breath get slower, thicker, eyes never leaving your mouth. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek and your breath hitches when his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

sunghoon closes the distance first. 

the kiss is sweet and gentle but filled with yearning and just a little bit of hesitation. your lips are the softest too, practically erasing any memory left over from the other irrelevant girls he’s kissed before. and you’re so damn sweet.

despite every inch of his body wanting to have more, he does the gentlemanly thing to do and breaks the kiss but not without biting on your plump lower lip first. when his eyes finally focus, your cheeks are flushed, tinted a rosey color like your slightly swollen lips that reflect the distant street lights.

sunghoon's grip on you is as tight— just a hair above bruising. it’s taking everything to hold on his self-control, to not take you for himself right then and there.

he just had you back. he doesn’t want to scare you away by being so forward with his need and indecency. 

but it’s so, so hard to behave when you’re like this, so small and flustered, looking up at him with half lidded eyes and your lower lip trapped between your teeth.

so when he feels you attempt to press your thighs close, his instinct tells him to pull you even closer to keep them open, the movement making your dress ride up, the slit on its side exposing more of your skin. 

and you whine—either from his touch or from the cold air— but sunghoon doesn’t care. not anymore.

the noise you make is more than enough to snap whatever’s left of his restraint and he leans down to capture your lips again. but it isn't soft this time.

it's sure.

it's hungry and handsy.

still full of yearning, but mixed with the raw, physical need to be closer to one another.

your heads tilt to opposite sides, lips weaved together while letting out small whispers of sweet nothings in between.

sunghoon takes your lower lip in between his again, sucking on the flesh while his hand slip underneath the slit of your dress, palm rubbing up and down the skin of your upper thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

while his lips keep your mind fuzzy, he busies his hand by trailing it higher and higher beneath the loose fabric of your dress until you feel his thumb graze your bare hips, just a fraction of an inch below where your panties are resting, making you gasp against his mouth. 

a chance opens up for sunghoon to snake his tongue past your lips, and he greedily takes it, determined to explore every possible inch. you taste like decadence. like the coffee ice cream you had for dessert combined with something celestial.

it's fucking heavenly. 

you try to fight him back with your tongue, and for a while, he lets you. convinces you that you’re winning when you try to push your tongue against his, pink muscles twirling together in a dance full of lust and wanting, but sunghoon eventually grows tired of it and he gives your thigh a reprimanding squeeze, making you moan again, providing him the perfect opportunity to take over the messy liplock. 

you take the small bit of revenge you can by threading your fingers through the jet black locks on the back of his head, tugging on it once, twice, until he’s growling your name against your open mouth.

his lips wrap around yours, your tongue graze on the sharp end of his canines, his fingers wander near the plump of your ass, and you kiss until both of you are literally seeing stars.

you part, heaving oxygen back in your deprived lungs and your foreheads meet with eyes still in steady contact as your heavy breathing mingles.

sunghoon’s hands never leave your thigh or your cheek. rather, he gives them a final brush with his thumb before stealing a quick peck, damp lips brushing against your skin until it reaches your jaw, giving the spot a kiss as well.

“perv.” you say, raising your thigh a little just so you could push sunghoon’s hand away. “first kiss and you’re already feeling me up?” 

“okay, y/n. let’s pretend your eyes weren’t my arms the entire time i was driving. i know you like how veiny they look.” he replies after leaning back, the same canines that were grazing on your tongue a while ago now in full display as he flashes you a cocky grin.

“i.. you noticed that?” 

“i did. i notice a lot of things about you.” 

“like what?” 

he's quiet for a moment.

“like how you’re starting to shiver.” his muscular arms lift you up and safely bring you back down to the ground.

“i think it’s time to get you home, angel.” 

a cacophony of cheers erupt in your classroom as the announcement blares from the speaker. an early dismissal due to seniors needing several classrooms to prepare for something you didn’t care enough to pay attention to. 

all you knew was you needed to get out as soon as possible so you can see sunghoon again. 

from: pengoo. 🐧— heard the announcement yet? :)  to: pengoo. 🐧 — yep!! i'll just grab a few things from my locker and head there. see u! ♡ from: pengoo. 🐧 — see you, angel. :) 

the two of you made the university garden your official hang-out spot. specifically the one near the big ginkgo tree where the both of you have spent hours under either people-watching, eating or reviewing.

and stealing kisses from each other, of course.

so when sunghoon asked to meet you there this morning, the answer was an automatic yes.

just as you sit down on the picnic mat, you see him appear from behind a tall shrub, bag slung over his shoulder and a big plastic bag hanging from his hand.

“did i take too long? i'm sorry, angel. it was lunch rush and there was a line in the restaurant and jake was arguing with a girl and—” 

“hoon. i just got here. it’s okay.” you say, chuckling at his never-changing nervous demeanor.

he leans forward to give your lips a chaste peck, an apology leaving his lips again before he busies himself by taking your lunch out of the plastic and making sure your bottle is uncapped and your utensils are cleaned before tending to his own food. 

a fond smile creeps on your lips as watch him try to talk about his morning in between bites. he really has improved since that date. gone is the boy who shied away from your touches, and replaced by one who openly asks for a hug and whines when he doesn’t feel your hands on his whenever you walk together. 

his hand is always in yours when he drives both of you to school (despite the fact that he has to drive 20 minutes earlier to do so.) his arm consistently curled around your shoulder or your waist when you walk to class together. you always tease him for it too, but he just takes it with a smile because he knows it’s true.

he’s whipped for you. 

after you eat and clean up, you offer to keep the picnic mat in your locker but sunghoon mentions he wants to stay for a bit more, and you appease him, letting him lie down with his head comfortably laying on your plush thighs while you lean back, palms pressed on the mat to support yourself.

silence envelops the both of you, but it doesn’t make your head run through a million thoughts anymore. it isn’t tense this time. 

your eyes wander to him again— your not-quite-boyfriend boyfriend.

your finger pokes at the mole at the side of his nose out of habit, the glass beads in your bracelet reflecting bright spots on his smooth skin. you go from one mole to the next, moving it down the sharp bridge of his nose, then to his jaw, and you giggle upon feeling sunghoon shiver under your featherlight touch. 

you move your middle finger down his neck, choosing to poke at the peak of his adam’s apple before noticing the pink lines on his neck.

again?

before you can even point it out, sunghoon’s voice cuts through the silence. 

“i feel like pengoo whenever i’m with you.”

you sit up properly. “pengoo?” 

he gives you a nod and you stare, giving him a look that spells ‘i don’t know what you mean’, making him smile. 

“whenever you’re around… it’s like i become that kid again. the one that can’t speak or think properly. i don’t know, it’s weird. the same girl that gave me the confidence to talk being the same one i can’t be around without making a fool of myself? i can’t even give you a proper compliment for god’s sake.” 

that’s true. he always compliments your outfits, or your accessories, or compliments you through implications. things like “you’re making everyone stare.” or “that cute puppy looks just like you.” but nothing that’s actually a straight forward compliment. 

you never had the courage to bring it up to him, partly because you’re afraid he might find you too needy, but also because deep down, you know the words he did say already took a lot of courage from him.

“i don’t.. really mind. not that much.” 

“don’t lie to me, angel.” 

“i’m serious!” you laugh, fingers forcibly pushing the edges of his frowned lips upward. “i do have a question though.”

“what is it?” 

your fingers ghost over the exposed skin on the base of his neck, fingers gently pressing on the spot between his clavicles, tracing over the faint red scratches over it.

“have you been scratching your neck again? why do you do it when you know i don’t like it?” 

“angel… i just—” he sighs softly, reaching for your hand. “i get frustrated.” 

“you always say that. but there has to be a way for you to release your frustrations without scratching? the scar from last time isn’t even healed yet.” 

below you, sunghoon releases a soft sigh and raises a hand to poke at the same spot on your neck. “what is this?” he asks.

“my neck…?” you reply cluelessly, to which he just shakes his head, poking at the skin again flinch from the ticklishness of his touch. "what's inside here?"

“my throat?” 

he finally nods, pointing to his own. “they get stuck here.” he opens his mouth, tongue sticking out and points to it as well. “and here.” 

“they? hoon, you have to stop talking in riddles. you know i’m stupid.”

sunghoon runs a hand over his face and sits up, moving behind you until you're settled between his legs, back comfortably leaned against his firm chest.

“okay. i’m doing this.” he whispers mostly to himself before squeezing you in his arms as if to reassure himself. “don’t interrupt me, okay? because if i don’t get this out completely, i might not be able to say it at all.”

you press your palms on the arms wrapped around your waist and nod.

“you see those those?” sunghoon asks, and your eyes follow the direction of his finger pointing at the different florae.

the green leaves of the bushes look even brighter next to different bundles of spring-born tulips— colors of white, red and vibrant yellow scattered throughout the garden. 

you're unsure of where this conversation is headed, but nod anyway.

“it’s like i have that inside me. a garden— of words.” he says slowly, taking pauses between every words.

“at least that’s what i started telling myself after i left years ago to aid me in my quietness and it helped. a lot. i realized that i don’t really have to give people anything of value, and it made talking easier. if i don’t like someone, i can give them dead leaves or even weeds. but if i do, i can give them grass or the most common roses and it’ll do. maybe even an arrangement of better flowers for the people i want to keep in my life.” 

he stays quiet for a beat, and you can feel his nose poke on your skin as his lips press on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “but you… you know you mean a lot to me, right?”

you reply with a hum, eyes glued to the leaves and petals swaying in the wind.

“i'm slow to speak because i take so long walking through the garden. because it's so difficult to choose what to give to you. because i want to pick and gather only the prettiest flowers— the prettiest, kindest words —for you. i want them to be neatly arranged and looking just as beautiful as the way you appear to me. because you’re precious to me... and you deserve nothing less.”

the words tug on your heartstrings in a way you’ve never felt before. to be adored and admired so much to the point of speechlessness wasn’t something you’ve ever experienced, or frankly, ever expected.

so when he speaks of you in such a way, it overwhelms your chest with a sense of safety— of knowing your heart is safe with him. 

and the way he says it too: voice low, shaky, and starkly different from the composed sunghoon you usually hear in classes.

it's then that you realize the apprehension you saw you wasn't done out of malice.

sunghoon only did it because he wanted to protect something dear to him.

he shifts and pulls his hands away from your waist only to sit cross legged in front of you. it seems like you aren’t the only one feeling vulnerable because when you see him, he looks just as flustered.

his cheeks are rosy and his ears are in an even deeper shade, almost matching the petals floating above the grass.

“don’t laugh at me for this, okay?” a defeated chuckle leaves his lips and he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours before looking you in the eye. "jake and jay know about how much i've been rehearsing."

"hm?"

“i’ve dreamt of meeting you again, you know? so when i saw you on our first day, i told myself that i’ll do it. i’ll show you my gratitude. i’ll show you i’ve changed. that i’ve grown. that i’m not the sickly and shy kid in the park anymore.” sunghoon pauses. “so every night in front of my mirror, i rehearse the different ways i could talk to you— and it worked. it always goes smoothly.”

“but i’ll see you again in the morning and it’s like the hours i spent practicing rush out the window— because.. b-because i’ll hear your voice, and you’ll laugh, and you'll smile. and you’ll look at me the way you are right now… and it’s like all the bouquet of flowers get stuck here.” sunghoon explains, finger accusatorily pointing to the still-healing scar on the skin above his throat.

“it feels like their thorns are piercing me from the inside, angel. it sucks and it’s frustrating. and the only way to relieve it is to scratch, but they won’t come out even if i do. and then i’ll beat myself up over it, go home, and the cycle will repeat itself. and— you’re doing that smile again. s-stop it!” he stammers, finger now angrily pointed to you. 

you chuckle because you don’t even know what kind of smile he means and sunghoon just sighs, reaching for his neck again, palm over his throat like he’s trying to relieve the itch without scratching.

he looks annoyed and irritated, nose scrunched up as he clears his throat one, two times.

“i— i love you, y/n.”

the three words he’s been itching to confess for months, now breaking free from the tip of his tongue.

both of you freeze in your spots.

you can’t believe the words he just said, and he looks like can’t believe it either. 

“i love you.” sunghoon repeats, gnawing on the flesh on the inside of his lip while his hands squeeze on the base of his neck as if physically forcing the words out. “i think you’re so cool. and you’re pretty. but even that isn’t enough. beautiful is the closest i can get, but i hope you get what i mean a-and… fuck, i should’ve just written a letter.”

an intense battle of eye contact ensues, his free hand curled tightly atop his lap as he takes a deep breath in.

“i— i’ve admired you since i was a clueless kid in the playground. liked you s-since you talked to me on our first day. and i’ve loved you since our first kiss, but i was too much of a pussy to say it then because i didn’t want you to think i only loved you because of it.” he grunts, knuckles pressing on his temple. “and i’m sorry that i don’t talk much because every time i do, it just makes you cry and i don’t want to see you crying because it breaks my heart too—”

the speed at which his words come out begins to pick up, making it barely understandable so you call out his name in an attempt to slow him down but he just looks at you with determination in his eyes.

“no! listen to me. i know i’ve had my moments, and i’ll probably keep having them, but i want you to know that i love you. sincerely. you’re precious to me, y/n. and i don’t want you to doubt what i feel any longer so believe me when i say i’m trying my best right now, even though i’m babbling.”

he pauses just to take another inhale, and when he finally speaks again, both his voice and his eyes turn softer. so soft you can't hear his words.

"i'm sorry, hoon. i didn't quite catch that."

"y/n. will you please be my girlfriend? you can say no, o-of course. i'm just throwing the idea out there but if you think i haven't proved myself yet then i'll be fine just waiting, i swear i c—” 

you swallow the rest of his words in your mouth as you press your lips against his, eyes closed while you grab sunghoon’s hand by his wrist and guide it to your nape.

he lets out a meek sound of surprise but you can immediately feel him melt into you, fingers tightly holding on the neckline of your shirt as his soft, pillow-soft lips locked against yours in a slow but passionate kiss. 

when you pull away, sunghoon’s eyes are glassy and you can see love pouring out from the way the beautiful chocolate brown orbs gaze into yours.

you leave a gentle peck on the mole under his eye— a thing you’ve picked up after multiple make out sessions —and lean back to appreciate the full view of a flustered sunghoon. 

“i love you too.” you finally reply with an elated smile. “and i’d love to be your girlfriend.”

if humans had the chance to have heart-shaped eyes, you’re convinced sunghoon would have it at this moment.

his cheekbones are pushed all the way up, pearly whites flashed at you before he tackles you down into the picnic mat with a tight bear hug making you giggle loudly as he rolls the both of you from side to side while pressing kisses all over your face. 

“hoon!” you squeal while wriggling in his hold and he relents, standing up to run in a wide circle around the garden, arms spread out wide while yelling.

“she said yes! y/n’s mine! my girlfriend!”

thankfully, the few people meters away only flash the two of you confused looks before going about their business.

"can't believe you're my girlfriend now." he giggles breathlessly as he ends his run in front of you, only to wrap his arms around your figure once more, lifting you off the ground and spinning in place while professing his love at the top of his lungs.

it’s dizzying to be his, literally and figuratively. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you're his, and he's yours.

you love park sunghoon.

from the thorns, to the long stems and rough leaves, up until the prettiest petals that are finally able to leave his soft lips.

but sunghoon is determined to spend the rest of life growing his garden until he can find the words that'll convince you that he loves you more. 

BONUS SCENE:

"let me get this straight. you're telling me that you got jealous of me.. so you made my little y/n cry three times?" jeonghan's voice is low, face void of any emotion as his arms cross over his chest across the both of you.

"technically it's seven, if we count the times i cried over winter break too." you mumble, meekly raising seven fingers.

sunghoon turn to you with wide eyes in disbelief. why would you throw your boyfriend under the bus? during his first time personally meeting your brother, no less.

"y/n, what the hell?"

jeonghan's hand slammed on the table, making the both of you flinch. "don't look at her. look at me. i was asking you a question, and now you're going to explain."

he thought jeonghan was cool— and he still does— but he reminded sunghoon so much of you whenever you get stern, and it's like deja vu of the time you got serious with him during your first date.

"no, i— it wasn't necessarily because of that, hyung. i just so happen to have made her cry after i got jealous so it isn't really a cause-and-effect scenario—"

"love, you're getting a little off track..."

"he said he wanted me to explain—"

your brother's giggles echo throughout your family home's dining area and he shakes his head, leaning over to tap on sunghoon's shoulder. "nah, man. i'm just fucking with you. but you knew i had blonde hair so you really should've known better."

"i.. y-yes, sir! i mean hyung! sir— i.. i mean... yeah." he sighs in defeat, head hanging low in an apologetic bow while jeonghan just nodded in acknowledgement.

"but if you make my little y/n cry again, i'll make sure you really won't be able to use that throat of your ever again, got it?" the way your brother's able to make those words sound sweet make even your heart race, your hand finding sunghoon's underneath the table to give it comforting pats.

"and you're sleeping in my room. no nicknames or pda as long as you're under the yoon household."

your boyfriend's eyes travel between you and your brother and he only grips your hand, nodding.

he can't wait to go back to seoul.

୨ from ! 🐰 yan ୧ : aaaaaaaaaaa!! it's finally done. i'm gonna cry. ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა i saw the video of i-lander sunghoon dancing to pretty u again and i just had to. if you can't already tell, this is heavily inspired by the song and the confession part is heavily inspired by it! i'm thinking of writing shorter drabbles of other members so just shoot me an ask if you have an idea. < 3

⌗ taglist — @neozon3nha @zerocoded @firstclassjaylee @yuyita-rosier @chiiyuuvv

[ikeuwoniee]

THE SPACE BETWEEN HEARTBEATS Y.JW

synopsis: He made you a promise, no matter where the stars led him he would always return home to you. Sometimes fate tests promises and the stars don’t always align how you planned. 365 days, thats how long he’d been stranded. A year of aimlessly drifting through space, confined to the infinite stretch of stars and sky. Nothing there but time and distance, distance that keeps him awake at night for the heart-wrenching fact of knowing that it kept him from you. Lightyears away from the one he loved, and your intertwined fates were left at the unpredictable will of space. Your hearts that once beat as one, were miles apart an unspeakable space between them.

log: yang jungwon & fem!rea ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst 16k wc ༯ contains! non idol enhypen. astronaut jungwon ꫂ Ot7───★˙nainais library !!

℘an᭪ : I’ve been sitting on this fic for quite some time now, and its one of my favorite tropes out of all that I’ve written so far so I hope you guys enjoy this one. This fic truly does mean the world to me and it's the first time that i've written something this long. I really put my heart into this one and after weeks of bouncing back and forth between this and chrome hearts i'm finally done. Special thank you to @heesmiles and @filmsbyun for helping me with title ideas.

warnings: suicide jokes, mentions of death, panic attacks & depressive episodes

📼 PLAY ME

INTERLUDE

You were used to the sound of his heartbeat, a consistent melodic thump against his chest that synchronized with your own when you touched. Every hug, every kiss, fingers tracing skin, nights spent entrapped in the sheets speaking soft whispers while legs intertwined, your hearts had always beat as one. Interpersonal Synchronization that’s what they called it— the phenomenon where two individual hearts align. Just like the stars, yours and Jungwons heartbeats had always been synced from the early stages of childhood friendship to, to the early stages of your marriage. Two different souls intertwined and bound to one another linked by their unconditional love for each other.

From the moment Jungwons eyes found you amongst all of the other kids he’d known right then and there he would be the one to love you until death parted you. Seven years old when he found you sitting beneath a tree on the playground, book in your lap— the way you read while absent mindedly picking at the grass and flowers beneath you had fascinated him then. if anyone else had seen it they'd say it was nothing special, you loved to read? So did hundreds of others…you loved flowers?? So did other girls. You were a simple girl, quiet, well kept, intelligent for your age, maybe even more than him and while most would find that threatening or intimidating it only made his admiration for you grow.

He’d start to pick up on small things you did, the way you nervously fiddled with your uniform skirt when anxious, straightening your lashes with your fingers or twirling them in your shirt when you were deeply immersed. Never found without a book in your hands, a social butterfly but for the most part you seemed to favor being alone. Sweet soft-spoken girl who was intelligent beyond comparison yet shied away whenever she was assigned presentations, or chose to do citations in front of the class. The girl who’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite things, who stared at with fascination and curiosity swimming behind those eyes upon first meeting.

Then as the two of you grew older you had become more confident, more sure of yourself. Still that sweet and attentive girl he’d always known just grown up now, more secure in who she was. The girl that never took no for an answer, scolded him whether he was right or wrong, always spoke up for the things she was passionate about. The girl he realized that he would truly give the moon and the stars if he could capture them in his hands.

The moment his fate became intertwined with your own he vowed to never let you go even before marriage vows were exchanged at the altar. Sixteen years old, the two of you had stayed out past the setting sun, long enough to see the moon take its place. You were fast asleep on his shoulder while watching the stars and he whispered his sacred vow to take care of you for as long as he lived, like the stars in the sky you were precious to him. An unspoken promise to you of being kept, no matter how long time dragged on or how far apart the two of you were he would always return to you.

A promise that would be broken years later, not by him but by fate, by the unpredictability of space and its undying will to keep the two of you apart. Hearts no longer in sync, no longer aligned due to the distance between the two, the distance between your heartbeats.

THE SPACE BETWEEN HEARTBEATS

“Count the stars backwards then forwards, by the time the last star is accounted for I’ll be home, i'll always come back to you” - yjw

In the empty living room you sat, dark circles beneath your eyes as you listened to the soft ticking of the clock, eyes trained on staring at the starful sky then the pictures on the wall that once gave comfort—- now they just haunted you. This had become a routine if yours, forcing yourself to stay awake until you were on the verge of chronic insomnia. You wouldn’t dare sleep, couldn’t, not when he was out there, not when you’d gone so long staying up late nights waiting for him to walk through those doors, for him to return to you.

July 16th 2024 that was when you heard the news, fingers trembling, thoughts sent awry, you were forced to come to grasps with the fact that the love of your life wasn’t coming home. Words through the phone slipped through one ear and out the other as they explained it to you. A bunch of technical bullshit that seemed not so important at the time of being told because the only important detail that mattered was your husband, the man you’d loved since eleven years old was stranded in space. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and nights after. Your friends and family tried their best to reassure you that he was okay, that they’d find him and he’d come walking through that door just like he had after every other trip. But it's been a year since then and you were starting to find it hard to come to grasp with the fact that he may have been long gone.

A year, a year of uncontrollable tears and forcing yourself to get out of bed for work and errand runs. You were on autopilot, a continuous get up and go that couldn’t be ceased until you knew he was okay, until you knew he’d be coming home but so much time had gone by and you heard nothing. Not one update on his whereabouts or if they were even searching to bring him home, and maybe that was your own fault. You’d shut out his friends and coworkers, you avoided every tabloid with the mention of his name. Not that you didn't want to know it was just too painful to be aware, painful to know that the distance between you and him was unattainable. You had never felt so alone without him, but the worst feeling was knowing that he was truly alone. Drifting through the silence of space with no company other than the stars and the moon— the same moon that you begged to bring him home safely with every passing night.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, forcing you to look away from the pictures of Jungwon long enough to see your best friend push open the door and come inside.

“Sheesh you have it so cold in here.” He shivers as he makes his way into the kitchen setting down a handful of grocery bags.

“I told you you didn’t have to come by today's bin.” You respond, exhaust evident in your tone as you reaffirm the words you’d previously spoken to him.

Soobin simply brushes off your words as he shuffles to put away all of your newly supplied groceries and pre cooked meals. He, Beomgyu and Taehyun had spent hours cooking for you— while also arguing who’d be the one to bring it to you. “You tell me a lot of things but we both know I’m not known for my listening skills.”

A slight smile curls onto your lips as you let out a lighthearted laugh. You were truly grateful for Soobin and the others for being the ones to make you smile on days where you find it hard to ever live.

“Should have known better I guess.” You respond softly, pushing yourself up off the couch and joining him in the kitchen.

“Yes you should have.” He responds with a cheeky smile as he puts away the last of the groceries. You weren’t sure what to say at that moment but the silence was killing. You were tethering between wanting to say thank you and apologize to him for being a burden, but knowing Soobin he’d try to shut both down immediately, telling you the same thing he always did “that’s what friends are for.”

“What did you bring today?” You ask, the words coming out fainter than intended as you rest your head on your palms.

“Taehyun made bentos, Beomgyu made you a pasta bread bowl, and I went to a simple kimchi jjigae. There's rice in the cabinet when you’re ready for it.” He sets out each dish before you as he lists them out, laying your choices out as if he were waiting for you to decide so that he could make sure you were eating properly. “Thank you Binnie, it means a lot that all of you go out of your way for me like this. I wish I could..that I could repay you.” Soobin sucks his teeth at your gratitude, you were sure he wanted to tell you there was no need to continuously thank him but he held back.

It was obvious to him that you were tired, he was no stranger to the way your lifestyle had changed since getting the news about Jungwon. You’d stopped going into your shop, started eating and sleeping less, and often when you finally did sorry your schedule was completely fucked. Most of your days were starting to blend into one, a long continuous day of counting hours, minutes and seconds waiting to talk to the moon again.

“So..did you talk to any of them today?” He questions, a little hesitance in his tone as if he were walking on eggshells asking this.

“No.” You respond, blunt and straight to the point. No reason to lie or come up with excuses as to why you hadn’t spoken to any of them because he knew why.

“Yn you can’t shut them out, I know they were closer to him than they were to you but they care for you too, and i’m sure they’ve been hurting just as much over this as you have.” He responds, trying his best to convince you without overstepping.

“Soobin I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Then when? It’s been a year and you haven’t spoken a word about him but everyone knows you miss him. You don’t sleep, barely eat unless someone's looking over your shoulder, you’ve stopped going into the book store and you’ve been avoiding all of the people that care about you, you can’t hold it in it’s been a year. You have to talk about it, about him.” The silence that lingered between the two of you was loud and painful, but you weren’t sure what to say. Soobin was right, he was always right but you weren’t ready to accept the inevitable. You didn’t want your mind to linger on the what ifs or maybes.

Soobin sighs, resting his palms against the counter as he watches you searching your brain for the right words to say that could get you out of this conversation. “yn if you won’t talk to any of us then maybe you should see someone? A professional that can actually help, actually tell you how to cope.”

“You mean a therapist. Pay someone to sit and listen to my problems that I know can’t fix my heart. Can a therapist bring him back home to me? Can a therapist make up for a year of lost time with the man I desperately have been wanting to see since I got that call?” Soobins lips press into a thin line and he goes silent. He knew the conversation would go this way, it always had, but as much as he understood your pain he also understood that this was not healthy for you.

“And do you think Jungwon would be happy that this is how you’re choosing to live? Do you think he’d be happy knowing that his wife— the woman he calls his star, is sitting at home shutting everyone out, crying alone, not eating or taking care of herself?” Soobins persistence was starting to annoy you, no matter how many times you’d told him you were fine he’d always made it a priority to pull the things out of you that you tried desperately to hide.

“He wouldn’t yn. And you know just as well as I do that whether he's 5 feet away or millions he’d agree with me on this. I’m not saying that you have to go and love it, hell if you go for a week and it doesn’t help the blame me and you never have to step foot in the place again but you can’t just let this build up. Please.” Your eyes searched for the smallest hint of him giving up, of him just letting this go and letting you continue to deal with it as you always had but he wasn’t giving up, not on you.

“One week bin, i'll go for one week.”

“Perfect because I already scheduled your first appointment before I got here.” He responds, turning around to put away the rest of your drive for tomorrow.

“fucker.” You mumble under your breath while turning to crawl back out the couch.

“I heard that, and I love you too.” You scrunch up your nose at him, giving a side eye of fake annoyance as you watched him heat up the bento for the two of you to share— because he knew you wouldn’t eat it all alone.

——

There was nothing or no one to keep him company and the silence had become tantalizing. Not a peep was heard throughout the entire place. Not the soft hum of an air conditioner, the ticking of the clock that once rang familiar in his ears, even the sound of the old creaky floor back home had been missed by him. Most of all he missed you, he missed your lips, your smile, your laugh, he missed resting his head against your chest and listening to the faint sound of your heartbeat, a sound he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to hear again at this point.

Jungwon had never been a pessimist, he was always certain that every failure made you come back two times better, every loss made you stronger, that no matter how tough life got it was sure to get better. He knew the grass was greener on the other side, it had to be, Right? He’d told himself that many times throughout his life, he convinced himself that he could fix anything, solve any problem if he just stayed positive but he couldn’t fix this, this was a problem that he couldn't solve, not on his own. He was alone, losing the little hope he had left, hope of getting back to you and holding you like none of this ever happened.

Every day for the past 365 days he’d wondered what you were doing, if you were okay or if you ever thought about him. He wondered if you were waiting for him, or if you’d moved on, found someone to love you in his absence and give you all the affection that he was so desperately missing from you. A sigh spills from his lips as he stares out the shuttle window, the same view he’d had for the past year now making him sick to his stomach rather than giving him a sense of security. The stars were dizzying, solemn because they were something he couldn’t escape. The one thing he’d always loved most in this world (other than you of course) was driving distance between the two of you.

“Riot thirteen this is Yang.” He hesitates for a moment, part of him still held onto the belief that someone would hear him, but the other part was losing faith. “I’m still here…if you can hear me…just…just tell yn that I love her, that I don’t know how or when but I’ll come home to her. I'll make sure that I get to her. If I’m going to breathe my last breath it won’t be here. It’ll be with her.” Silence, the other line was always silent. He was starting to wonder why he even tried.

The endless stretch of stars outlined by the swirls of purple and blue were becoming more haunting by the day. A reminder that hec remained trapped within the very place that once gave him comfort. He had never felt nervous or frightened when it came to his space adventures, mostly because he was always so sure he’d return to you. But here and now it was hard to choke back his nerves or fear that he just might not make it home to you, that you’d lost him without ever getting the chance to say goodbye.

You had been fast asleep when daylight broke, one of the scarcity of nights in which you had finally gone to sleep at a decent time. You didn’t know if it was the fatigue of crying yourself to sleep once soobin had gone or if he’d given you enough hope of getting better that aided in your decent slumber for once but you were thankful. It didn’t last though, you were woken up to the sound of curtains being drawn back and Soobin screaming an annoying wake up call.

“Rise and shine Bella, therapy awaits.” With an annoyed groan you stuff your face into your pillow to block out the sun.

“Five more minutes.” You grumble, Soobin immediately dismisses your words as they’re muffled due to your face being stuffed into the underside of your pillow.

“Five more minutes will turn into an hour with you, come on up.” Tearing the covers off of you he throws them aside, realizing you still weren’t making any moves he hoists himself up onto the bed and starts to jump. “Get upp, you promised you’d put in the effort for at least a week, time to get up Bella.”

“I'm starting to regret my decision.” You groan, finally pulling the pillow from your face and throwing it aside. “And who the hell is Bella?”

“Bella you know, twilight..? Remember how she got all sad and depressed when Edward left. She's just like you, that's literally you.” He explains, jumping down from your bed and dismissing the judgmental look you’d been giving him.

“You’re comparing my real life situation to a fictional vampire movie?? Gee thanks.”

“Get up, I told her we’d be there by 10, but i figured we could stop and get breakfast before hand because I know you wouldn’t eat otherwise.’’ He explains, while pulling the covers from the bed forcing you to get up.

“Okay I get it, if you don’t want me lying back down get out so I can get dressed.’’ you respond with a half smile as you chuck a pillow in his direction which he easily dodges. He gives you a silly salute before throwing the pillow back in its place on your bed and giving you privacy to get changed.

A sigh spills from your lips as you’re finally alone and your eyes drift to the empty side of the bed, his side. You can’t help but feel a pang in your chest as your gaze falls upon the empty bedside table that housed nothing but a stack of books and a photo of you and him– A photo the both of you had taken at the park when you first found out the news that he was working for NASA.

You had always known that Jungwon was determined to reach that goal, his love for astronomy and wonder for the stars and space had always shone bright since the two of you were kids. You loved how passionate he was about it , and you’d never ceased to encourage him to reach for the stars, you just never thought that the stars would be the thing that stole him away from you. Finally you climb out of bed, shuffling over to the window and drawing back the curtains to peep the snowfall through your frosted window. Weather that you once loved because you knew it meant he’d be home– wrapping you in his arms while the two of you watched the snowfall from the back windows. This didn’t feel as happy, didn’t feel as intimate, it just felt dull and empty.

You could hear Soobin rushing from the other side of the door as you finally release the curtain and shuffle over to the closet. Throwing on the first thing you saw because that was all you really had the energy to do, dressing up was starting to feel like more of a chore the longer your feelings began to consume your everyday life

—

The soft ticking of the clock makes anxiety bubble up in the pit of your stomach, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you take in the details of the room. A brightly lit room with subtle decor, yet it was enough for you to glimpse into what kind of person this therapist had been. Photos aligned the wall furthest from you, a proud display of who you assumed to be her family and friends. A large window to the opposite of it, giving you a clear view of the bustling city outside of those very walls. Bookshelves aligned with psychological analysis books, and knickknacks that made the room feel almost homelike. There was something warm and comforting about the room, like the therapist had not only decorated for themselves but for the comfort of her patients. As cozy as if it felt it made you no less nervous, after all you had never done anything like this before. Since Jungwon had left you found it hard to utter a word about your feelings, you yourself weren’t even sure what you’d been feeling most times. Some days you’d felt so much that it made your heart heavy; many nights you’d cry yourself to sleep, but there were also days where you felt so empty, like a hollow shell so fragile you were just waiting to break.

The click of the door lulls you from your thoughts, and the smell of fresh tea leaves and lavender invades your nostrils, your tired eyes now focus on the figure that had just entered the room. A tall slender woman, long black hair just below her shoulders, peach skin littered with freckles, and eyes that you couldn’t quite make out their color but you were sure they were a light hazel. She entered poised and pacific, a tray with a matching set of teacups and a marble teapot in her hands as she entered the room, steam rising from the pot as if the water was freshly boiled. She gives a comforting smile as she enters and sets the tray down, the kind of smile that a friend would give as if they’d known you for years and it felt comforting. You didn’t know if it was your surroundings, or the fact that she’d walked in so casually in her light blue sweater and white slacks, but it felt comforting, like going back home for the holidays and finding that your mother had brewed fresh coffee or tea just for you.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of tea you liked, so I settled for lavender.’’ She explains as she sets down the tray, her voice was soft and gentle, a fragile sound that didn’t break the ambience of the silent room, a voice that would lul one to sleep or wrap them in its comfort.

“That’s okay.’’ you respond, the volume of your voice a near whisper, as if you’d break the flow if you spoke too loud.

“Would you like some?’’ she asks, filling her own cup before hovering over the second cup on the tray, not pouring until you confirm.

“I’d love some thank you.’’ she fills your own cup before sliding it over to the table and taking a sip from her own cup with a soft hum. You expected the lingering silence to be awkward, almost overwhelming but it wasn’t. She didn’t watch you drink, didn’t force you to speak or rush you to gather your thoughts; she just let you sit in silence with her until you were finally ready to talk.

“I’m sorry.’’ you finally blurt out with a sigh, giving her an apologetic glance as you cupped the tea in your hands, enveloping its warmth. “I’ve just never done anything like this before. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say..’’ you explain, fingers fiddling with the handle of the teacup.

“That’s alright, it’s only normal, we don’t have to rush into anything. I'd like for you to feel comfortable first before anything. I know it can’t be easy trying to convey your emotions to a complete stranger.’’ she gives an understanding nod before taking another sip of your tea, the interaction felt unfeigned, like she wasn’t just saying it to make you trust her enough to talk.

“I don’t know where to start..’’ she let out a breathy laugh, not because you found anything funny but because you felt burdensome, so many feelings consuming your thoughts yet you couldn’t bring yourself to voice a single one.

“Let’s start with how you’re feeling now.’’ you give her an unsure glance, to which she gives a reassuring nod, as if letting you know it was okay to feel, to be vulnerable for once instead of just acting like you were okay like you always tried to do with Soobin.

She observed the way you nervously fiddled with your fingers, how your pupils dilated almost as if you’d completely dissociated in that moment just to find the right words to say. She had seen it many times in her line of work, prominent in those that had made it a habit of suppressing their feelings. She had barely been in the room for longer than ten minutes, but she had easily sensed that you were someone who had a hard time expressing the way they felt.

“I don’t, I don’t really know how I feel. There's just this empty feeling lingering, like a silent forest devoid of joy or laughter, or sadness or anger. Like I'm broken most days. Sometimes I just sit on my bed and I stare at a wall trying to force myself to cry, to feel anything but it never works. I never shed a tear. Then there are days where my dejection completely consumes me and swallows me whole, like I've been dropped into the middle of the ocean and I'm sinking beneath the surface, struggling to breath or swim my way to the surface. Some days it feels so heavy, like i’m feeling so much its almost death-dealing.’’ your chest tightens as you’re able to finally verbalize how you’ve felt, the therapist just listens, she doesn’t interrupt or cease your verbalization she simply listens.

“I’ve tried, i’ve tried to force myself to be happy and to pull myself up when I fall, but it’s always short lived, When I start to think about Jungwon again, and how he must be alone…how I’ll never know what happened to him I fall apart.’’ finally you finish spilling your guts, and the room is silent again other than the ticking clock.

“Mm I see, because you’ve shut off those emotions so long, because you’re trying to force yourself to be happy again instead of grieving your body doesn’t know how to react. Anxiety, stress, depression..all symptoms of someone that's suppressed the way they feel for a long enough time that their brain doesn’t know what to make of it when they finally do feel. Sweetheart there's no time limit on grieving or mourning, you shouldn’t feel guilty for holding onto someone you love.’’ she pauses. “jungwon? He’s someone important to you?’’

“My husband, we’ve known each other for as long as I remember, married after college.’’ you explain, your throat tightening at the mention of time between the two of you.

“And now he’s?” she pauses, waiting for you to piece together the parts of your story she was unaware of, she figured that Jungwon was the root of these feelings, but she wouldn’t be quick to assume.

“He..well a year ago he left on a space trip for NASA, it was supposed to be a simple mission, test the air density and make records of it but he was supposed to come home after three days.’’ a lonely tear spilled down your cheek, as you recalled the events you’d tried so hard to shove down into the deepest depths of your memory. “A week passed, I tried not to be worried because sometimes his trips would often go over but then, then I got the call that they lost communications with him, they couldn’t reconnect with him, and they lost telemetry and command capabilities so they couldn’t- they lost all data about the spacecraft. They searched for months, tried to reestablish communication, they even sent more people out to search for him but.’’ you suck in a breath, trying to pull yourself together before you completely fall apart.

“It’s been a year, a year since then and I still don’t know if he’s okay or if he’ll ever come home. I don’t even know if he-’’ you pause and let out a shaky breath as if your mouth forbid you to say the words, your brain wanted to completely write off the idea of him being dead, of you having lost him completely.

“You’ve been holding onto the idea of closure.’’ she explains, placing a box of tissues onto the table and sliding it over to you.

“You’ve gotten no confirmation that the man you’ve known and loved your entire life is okay so your thoughts just keep drifting back to him and you aren’t able to move on. Until you get that closure your heart is always going to be a little heavy there's no way around it, but there are ways to distract yourself.’’ her words made you hopeful, she just sounded so sure, so confident in her craft that it gave you something to look forward to.

“I’ve tried everything, i’ve tried going back to work or going out with my friends again, i’ve spent so much time with my family but nothing has felt right without him here.’’

“Do you own a camera?” your brows draw together as you stare at her, confusion muddled all over your face. “A- a camera?’’

“I’m going to give you a task for the week until our next session, only if you decide to come back of course, I want you to channel your energy, and emotions into making logs. When you miss him, when you find yourself thinking about him I want you to grab your camera, or your phone and record something, whether it be a simple message for him or telling him about your day, you’ll make them as if the two of you are on a call. Not separated by space but as if he’s only halfway across the country listening to you talk about your day.’’ you weren’t sure how to respond, in that moment it sounded somewhat immaterial to the issue at hand. Up until this point every word that left her mouth felt credible, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that simply pressing a record on a camera and talking to yourself would help you feel any better.

When you left her office you were left feeling open and vulnerable, like someone had just seen right through you. Soobin stood outside as cheery as ever, leaning up against the car, arms crossed over one another as he waited for you to join him.

“Bella, where the hell have you been Loca?’’ he quotes to your annoyance, making you shake your head as you fight back a smile.

“You know you’re absolutely exasperating right? Your knowledge of this movie is completely unbearable.’’ you mumble, only getting a chuckle from him in response as he opens the door for you to get in.

“You love it though.’’ he gives you a cheeky smile while closing the passenger side door.

“So how did your first session go?’’ he questions, only glancing at you for a brief moment before returning his attention back to the road.

“It was okay.’’ you respond, watching as his lips press into a thin line.

“Only okay?’’

“Soobin it was therapy? What do you want me to say? Groundbreaking? Breathtaking?’’ you laugh, giving him a semi judgmental look. “It was refreshing I guess, I thought that it would be awkward but I felt relaxed, comfortable.’’

“Sooo will you go back.?’’ he questions, as if he’d been waiting to ask you that very question from the start.

“I’m not sure yet..’’ you pause, taking a moment to think over today's session as you stare out the window. “Oh that reminds me, before you take me home we need to stop at best buy.’’

“What could you possibly need from best buy?’’ his forehead creases and his eyes narrow in confusion at the sudden mention of best buy.

“I need a camera.’’

“A camera? You aren’t gonna go all Hannah baker on me right?’’ he questions, making you roll your eyes at him.

“No stupid, the therapist gave me a task and i’d rather use a fresh lens than my phone, it’ll be more authentic that way.’’

“Whatever you say, but if i get a box of tapes on my doorstep i will be sending it back to you in the afterlife.’’

“Stupid’’ you mumble under your breath, shaking your head at him before returning your attention back to the world outside. It had been so long since you’d left the house for something that wasn’t basic errands or grocery runs. For the first time in a year you found yourself enjoying the scenery again, basking in the beauty of the outside world.

Eventually you had to return home, stepping inside the air just felt heavy, like there was a shift of energy between the world beyond your doorstep. It was quiet, and the faint smell of vanilla and cinnamon hinted at your nose– the scent that Jungwon loved so much he needed the house to smell like it at all times. The house felt lonely now that it had just been you, the silence almost engulfing you and sending you back into that sad state that you always found yourself sinking into, but you remembered what Alicia had told you “when you feel yourself slipping into that dark place again just pick up your camera”. And so you did.

Taking the camera out of its box you place it on the coffee table before you after hitting record. For minutes you sat there silent, wracking your brain for something to say, anything relevant until you finally decided to just speak from the heart.

“I miss you..won. I know that it’s been a year and I should move on but I can't bring myself to give up on you or the fact that you might not be fully lost to time. It’s just hard, because you’ve always been here. Since I was seven years old you’ve been at my side..back then you were so sure that you loved me even at such a young age you’d always known what you wanted in life, even when our lives were headed in different directions you didn’t give up on loving me. I won't, I won't give up my hope that you’re okay. You waited fourteen years for me…i’ll wait a lifetime.’’ you didn’t realize when the tears had started to fall, but your cheeks were now fully stained with tears, the droplets seeping into the fabric of your pants.

“You’ll come home, I know you will..you promised me.’’

–

Jungwon had fully dissociated, it was the only way to stop himself from going mad. Head resting against the cold tiles he let the water from the shower run through his hair and down his back, the scorching water was less than torture as he stood confined to the prison of his own mind. He couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about if he’d never get home, never get to see you again. The spacecraft was starting to feel like more of a prison despite its luxury. He’d walked every hall over a thousand times, counted every star in the sky, slept for hours on end to past time and yet it hadn’t made his time on the ship any less unbearable. When he was younger he had pictured all the journeys he’d go on when he got to this point in life. So many memories of forcing his dad to help you and him build life sized spaceships out of cardboard and paper just for the two of you to play pretend. Always acting out scenarios of him drifting out to space, before returning home to you until it became a reality only this time he didn’t return.

A sigh spills from his lips as he towel dries his hair, tossing the towel off to the side before stepping out of the room that felt so suffocating at the time.

“15, 16, 17…’’ steps counted, the only room he had yet to count the steps from there to the captains quarters up until now, something he’d started to do to keep his mind from drifting while walking the same halls every single day.

Coming to the captains quarters and testing the communication systems had become a chore at this rate, a repetitive cycle that he’d attempt three times a day, or what he was assumed 3 in a day..it wasn't like he had much of a perception of time there.

Same as always his fingers dance across the buttons until he sees the communications light flicker green, indicating communication was open on his end. He let out a tiresome sigh, an indication that he had already known the outcome of his call attempt, yet he always tried anyway.

“Riot thirteen, this is Yang…can anyone..can anyone hear me?” silence, silence on the other line. Something he had grown used to now but it never got any easier, each time he felt his resolve slipping away. His lips press into a thin line and he releases a jagged breath, fist slamming against the captain's share because he wasn't reckless enough to hit the controls. His vision was starting to blur as he sucked in a breath it felt like his chest was caving in, he tried, tried his best to control the now rapid beating of his heart but it was of no use. He experienced a panic attack, completely falling apart for the first time. Tears stinging his eyes threatening to fall while he completely unraveled on the floor. He tried to choke them back, to force himself to keep strong, because falling apart meant accepting the inevitable, but he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck.’’ he lets out a blood curdling scream before finally letting himself go, fists repeatedly slamming against the floor while tears seeped into his clothes.

The sun peeked through the clouds casting shadows over your bedroom, shining just below your line of vision. It was enough to wake you from your slumber. Your gaze shifts to the clock at your bedside and you take note of the time, 11:30 am, six hours earlier than the time you’d usually find yourself waking up. You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but it had been the first time in years you found yourself sleeping soundly and waking up early. Stretching out your arms you do a quick scan of the room, finding the camera set on the opposing side of the bed, his side. Glimpses of last night had started coming back, after making the video you’d cried yourself to sleep, not because you were sad or scared of the outcome but because you were finally accepting it, accepting the idea of not seeing him again. You breathed out, a quick exhalation of all the pent up nerves and anxiousness that had clouded you day after day. It felt grounding, you weren’t fully healed of your wounds, but you’d finally have a place to start.

Throwing the covers off of yourself and kicking your legs to the side of the bed you made the vow to yourself that you wouldn’t allow yourself to be miserable today but you also didn’t plan on forcing anything. You’d start slow, maybe do a little cleaning and reading to ground yourself today, and return back to work tomorrow, after all it had been months since you’d stepped foot into the book store and you were sure everyone missed seeing your face. You spent most of the morning cleaning every room in the house, your bedroom, the guest room, living room, kitchen, but there was still one room left, one room that you hadn’t touched since news hit about Jungwon.

Your eyes dilate as your gaze fixates on the door, a moment of dissociation as your fingers graze the cold doorknob before you twist and push it open. A nervous exhale spills from your lips as you enter the room and a rough chill makes you shiver at how cold it is. It did hurt, being in his room and not seeing him sit behind his desk with his trinkets and sketch books, working on new projects but a slight smile curls onto your lips as every knick knack or old sheet of paper takes you down memory lane. The tenderness in your gaze was so reminiscent and adorning that it was almost profound, you’d come in here to clean but now you found yourself taking in the details of the room remembering every moment the two of you shared. Then your eyes find the shelf behind his desk, littered with all of his achievements but most importantly photos of the two of you.

Your fingers brush against the dusted frames of each of them stopping at a lonely photo that you had almost forgotten about. Jungwon's eleventh birthday, no party, no small gathering or meeting of friends, he had chosen to spend the day with only you and his family– the day he convinced his father to build the dainty little spaceship replica that made Jungwon beam as if it could really take him to the moon. It was painful, knowing that the one thing Jungwon loved so much had taken him away, but you couldn’t resent him for it; you’d always encouraged him to pursue his dreams and reach for the stars no matter where the journey would lead him.

“I won’t give up on you..’’ you whisper softly, as if he were here and you were whispering a loving vow to him. This room and these very achievements were like an awakening for you, no matter how far he’d gone or how long he was away he always returned to you, always came home. You weren’t ready to give up on the idea of him returning no matter how agonizing the wait was, you would wait a lifetime for him to come home. These videos that you were tasked with, these logs of your day would not be a goodbye or a way of distracting you from your thoughts. You would log every important moment of your life for him until he returned home. Setting the photo down you went back to cleaning, even though he wasn’t here you wouldn’t let this room waste away or wither into something less than it was. By the time you had finished the sun had already fallen from the sky and the moon took its place and you sat snuggled up in a lounge chair reading a book to the faint sound of music.

It had been so long since you’d done this, simply sat and relaxed or read to yourself. You hadn’t properly cared for yourself or given yourself time to breathe since all of the events took place but now here you were finally getting some sort of peace. It reminded you of back then, when your passion for reading was at its peak and Jungwon would always come home to find you sitting in this very chair fully enraptured by whatever it was you’d been reading. He would steal the book away and hold it above his head just to rile you up, make you jump from it just as an excuse to wrap his arms around your waist and press his lips on yours all to steal your attention away. With your reading done for the night you peel back the curtains to take a look outside, peering out at the empty backyard and taking in the way the moon casts its reflection into your pool before releasing the curtains into their rightful place. Standing up from the comfort of your lounge chair you go to grab the camera so that you could capture this night in film for him, giving the camera a quick glimpse of the moon before setting it down on the side table.

“I don’t know if you could see it where you are, I never did understand space like you did.’’ a soft laugh spills from your lips as you adjust yourself into the frame."It's been a year but I still find myself talking to the moon like I always did. Talking to you as if you could hear me all the way down here. It’s silly and I never told you about it then but every time you left i’d always be so scared that something would happen so I would ask the moon to bring you home safe to me, like it was a friend– like it was just our little secret.’’

You pause for a moment, adjusting your place in your seat so that you were no longer looking at the camera, only your side profile was visible as you looked up at the sky, eyes taking in every star and dark cloud.”please..please bring him home to me..’’ your words spill out almost inaudible, a near whisper like it was not just a simple ask like a cry for help.

“I hope you’re not too lonely up there. Thankfully Soobin and the others have stopped by now and then to check on me even when I tell them not to. I've felt terrible lately shutting out Heeseung and the others, and everyone from work but it’s been hard. Work just seemed to drag on when I first found out the news and still keeping in touch with your old coworkers just felt cruel to me, like it was just a reminder that they all were still here and you weren't. At first I did envy them. It was hard not to envy them knowing they were all still here and you were” there's a brief inhale between your words, before you correct yourself .”are gone. But I know it's not their fault they couldn’t have known this would happen, I just wish you weren’t up there alone.”

You sigh, looking back to the camera, a brief smile graces your lips. “I want to reach out to them, tell them I'm sorry for shutting them out but I'm scared they’d hate me for placing the blame on them, even if they didn’t know that was the reason I shut them out. I’m scared that they won’t accept me again after so much time has passed. You were always better with people than I was, you made it easier for people to understand me when I myself couldn’t even explain to them my thoughts.” A suppressed chuckle spills from your lips and you smile, he had always been so easygoing.

“Anyways..I should head to bed since it’s getting late. Lately it’s been easier to sleep since the first session. I wasn’t sure if this would really help or bring any clarity but it makes me feel less sad, more hopeful. I hope that you’re sleeping well up there. That your nights aren’t cold or restless and that you aren’t plagued with too many worries like I am down here. You were always the calm and collected one out of the two of us.’’ you let out a lighthearted laugh and bid him goodnight before shutting off the camera and placing it back on the side table. Taking your half empty cup of tea into your hands you glance out the window one last time before pushing yourself up from your seat and going to place it into the sink.

It’d be different if he could leave this place, the sanctuary that was more like a prison or a purgatorial hell. If he would wander the moon or mars, or find mann's planet, somewhere to settle down but he couldn’t he was confined to these walls. The same wall he’d stared at for 374 days twelve hours, ten minutes and fifty two seconds. He sat quietly in his bed, eyes glued to the window, he felt nothing but emptiness looking out at the contrasts of space itself, swirling warm tones against the stark blackness of the abyss. Looking out into something so beautiful once made him happy but it now frightened him, it captured the mystery unknowing, not having a clue of what was to happen next or where he would be going. This was the first time his eyes had ever looked that way, like the light had been drained from them, no life or essence of hope swimming in them like usual– they were completely empty, swirling with doubt and worry. He found himself thinking about you, the way you smiled at him before he left. How he’d hugged you and showered you with kisses not knowing that it would possibly be his last time, that there was a single possibility he would never see you again.

The breakdown of a man, confined to space, consumed by silence and no one was around to witness it, it was like a secret between him the stars and whatever else lingered amongst him. There was no more optimism, no more reassurance or hope, because he was completely alone. He was always the one to reassure everyone, to sever their ties with anxiety or anxiousness but who’d ever done that for him other than you? You who he couldn’t hold, couldn’t touch, couldn’t kiss or comfort right now when you probably needed him most.

He forces himself out of the room, dragging his feet across the floor as he looms down the hall and into the main control room. He hadn’t thought that this was something he’d need to do, because he was expecting to be found but so much time had passed and not a single break in contact.

“I didn’t think there would ever be a point where I needed to use this. I thought that someone would eventually find me, that I could tell you all of this in person, but the more time I spend here the less hopeful I become that I’ll make it home to you and that.’’ he pauses as if the words he was preparing to speak were forbidden from falling for his lips. “It scares me, really scares me thinking that I might leave the world and never get to tell you goodbye. That you could be hurting and worrying about me and never know what happens. I’m scared to lose the thing that means most to me to something else that I've always loved. I’m making this in case I don’t make it. In case the ship is found and i’m not here I need you to know I love you, more than space itself, I’ve loved you from the very moment I laid eyes on you even though I wasn’t old enough to know what love was then I know now and having to make this message is tearing me apart in the worst way. At that moment, I was only seven but it’s anchored into my soul and when I finally married you, I married you with my heart, my soul I gave it all to you and it will forever be yours even after I'm gone. I hope that you can move on eventually, knowing that I loved you to my fullest ability, knowing that you were the first and last to have my heart. I want you to be happy even if I'm not there. Even if..’’ He couldn't bring himself to speak the words, like the mention of his death meant fully accepting it.

“I love you Yang Yn, with every fiber of my being, every dna particle in my body I love you.’’ The final words he’d speak, his words of closure to you before ending the video message and sitting in silence.

Today you woke with a newfound resolve, Soobin and Beomgyu had been more than happy when they checked up on you and found that you were in fact returning to work today. Of course you were met with a string of “take it easy” or “try not push yourself” at which you reassured them you would. When you arrived on sight of the bookstore you thought you’d die with how tight Sunoo and Niki had hugged you, as if you had just come back from the dead. You’d known Sunoo for quite some time, having met him in college he became one of your best friends and he worked at the bookstore for as long as you had owned it. Niki on the other hand you had only met two years ago, a friend of Sunoo’s who would occasionally come in just to bother him which you’d found amusing and adorning. At some point you Jokingly told him “if you’re going to be here every day and not buy anything you may as well work here” well needless to say he took that offer to heart– the next day you came in for your shift to find Sunoo yelling at him for putting all the bookmarks in the wrong place.

“I can’t believe you left me here with him.’’ Sunoo complains, a pout forming on his lips as he finally gives you the space you need to breathe.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad Noo.’’ You respond, stifling a laugh as you place your coffee onto the counter.

“He knocked down an entire shelf of books and we had to close the store down.’’ Sunoo responds, an unamused look on his face in contrast to you who had been trying to hold back a laugh. You look over to Niki who had been standing behind the counter and give him a questioning look.

“Exactly how did you manage that?” You give him an amused smile, at which Sunoo also looks over in his direction.

“I’d also like to know because I still have yet to hear the reason.” He adds, resting his head on his palms as the two of you looked at him expectantly.

“I thought there was a mouse okay? I thought I saw something scurry across the floor and I did not want that shit anywhere near me.’’

Neither You nor Sunoo could hold in your laughter upon finding out the reason Niki managed to knock down an entire shelf worth of books. You had to admit you did truly miss moments like this, the smallest moments of happiness that made life so worth living.

“So are you back for good?’’ Sunoo asks, wiping the tears from his eyes from his previous fit of laughter.

“I can’t say for sure, but I’m going to take this day by day. I need to get back to my usual self and work is part of that. I worked hard to get this place and I can’t just keep leaving all the work up to you and Niki.’’ You respond, gathering all of the piled up book logs that had just been sitting behind the counter waiting to be taken care of.

“Well I'm proud of you. It’s good to see you trying, good to see you’re doing somewhat better.’’ He smiles and gives you a reassuring hug before going to restock some shelves. The day went by in the blink of an eye, it didn’t drag on unlike many of your days where you just sat at home and did nothing. Your shifts continued that way, until eventually the end of the week had come before you even realized it, which meant it was finally time for your second session. You’d come to realize that even if saying how you feel was something hard for you to do, she was actually helping you.

“First, i’m happy that you decided to come back, sometimes all we need is someone to talk to and we may not always want to put all of our baggage onto our friends, Second I want to ask how are we feeling today?’’ she asks as she sets the tray down on the table, pouring you each a half cup of tea and sliding one over to you which you happily took. As she was the first time she was patient and attentive, she waited for you to speak and catch her up on everything that may have happened within that week of your absence.

“Well I went back to work.’’ You could see her eyebrows raise in contentedness and the slight smile on her lips as she drank from her mug.

“It felt nice to be back, I wasn’t worrying too much or overthinking I just felt happy I felt like me again. Thankfully Sunoo and Niki have made things easier coming back and they took good care of the place while I was away, it made me happier knowing i could rely on them.’’ she nods as you go on, practically beaming with every sentence. The quite opposite of how you’d been the first time she met with you.

“And your video logs, how are they coming along?’’ she asks, finally changing the subject to the task which she’d assigned you with the week prior.

“At first I was skeptical, I didn’t think something so simple would help me. Honestly I'm still hurting and trying to move on..but making those logs makes me feel like I'm still talking to him. It reminds me of all the times he’d go up there and have Heeseung or Jay or any of his coworkers relay messages to me. I realize that I’ve been so sad because I was starting to lose hope. I don’t know when he’ll see any of them or if he’ll ever see them but I choose to be hopeful that one day he will come home to me. The logs give me hope that he’s going to come back and see them.” she simply nods as she listens along, a smile on her lips. Of course you’d still be hurt and mourning his absence but you now had something to help you cope with that. You now have something to get you through your days.

“Well you’ve already done the first two steps and that’s accepting the situation and finding a way to live while still mourning. Now I want to tackle your isolation, in your forms another big thing that seems to be hard for you right now is contacting his coworkers? Now are these just coworkers or are they close friends of yours? What’s the relationship between all of you?” You stiffen at the mention of Heeseung and the others, surely you didn’t think all of your problems would be solved with just one little chat.

“They’re friends of his, more close to Jungwon than they ever were to me but they’ve always treated me like a sister, like I was more than just ‘Jungwons wife’.” she nods in understanding, encouraging you to go on.

“And where are they now, are you still in contact?’’

“No, not anymore. They used to for the first couple of months but I wouldn’t answer I couldn’t bring myself to.” you admit, your gaze refusing to meet hers as you spoke. You were overcome with guilt and didn’t want her to see you differently.

“Because you blamed them?’’ her words were like a punch to the gut, you did– you did blame them. And for the past three months you had been sitting with your guilt on top of all of the other things you were feeling.

“I envied them, because they were still here and Jungwon wasn’t. Because they all just let him go alone. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to any of them because I kept making them the reason he wasn’t here. I made them the ones who were at fault when they couldn’t have known something like this would happen. So I started to shut them out, and eventually they stopped calling and I never picked up the phone to call either.” you nervously fidget with your hands, suddenly feeling smaller under her gaze. You were expecting her to call you out or tell you that you were wrong for shutting them out, but she didn’t.

“Denial and misplaced sadness. There's no reason for it other than when we’re hurt we need someone else you blame when we can’t blame ourselves. You were hurting and you had nowhere to place all of those feelings. It’s not ideal and we always feel guilty when it happens but it’s normal human behavior.”

“I want to reach out to them, I do but I don't know where to start. I just feel so guilty shutting them out when I know they care and they are just worried.” You sigh, suddenly feeling the guilt all over again.

“For your next task, I want you to call them. Doesn’t have to be tonight or even tomorrow, as long as it's before our next session. I want you to contact them, whether it's to apologize, tell them you’re okay, see how they’re doing, that's up to you, but You should reach out to them.”

“And what if..what if they don’t want to talk to me?”

“If they truly are like family and see you as a sister then they’ll listen. No matter how much time has passed, I'm sure they’ll just be happy to hear from you.”

Jungwon was woken up to the sound of beeping in the captain's quarters. At first he’d thought he dreamt it, that he’d been there so long his mind was now playing tricks on him and he was experiencing full on psychosis. But even as his eyes fluttered open the sound had yet to go away. He shot out of his bed with the fuel of five rockets and sped down the empty corridor, nearly falling face first as he slid into the captain's quarters. The entire time Jungwon had been confined to that space this had never happened, and he wasn’t sure how long the alert had been going off or if too much time had passed but one thing was certain, someone had intercepted his message, they were trying to contact him.

Two days, two days had passed since your last therapy session and you’d been dreading this moment. You thought about how this conversation would go a thousand times. Imagined Heeseung yelling, screaming, possibly never wanting to talk to you again after you’d ignored them for so long, but Alicia was right, they deserved to know you were okay, deserved an explanation for you having ice them out. You sat in your room staring at the contact on your phone for over twenty minutes trying to encourage yourself to call, and ease the nerves that were swimming in the pits of your stomach.

“Just one call yn, one call is all it takes.’’ you reassure yourself before finally hitting the call button and raising the phone to your ear. Four times it rang, then five, and you sat nervously shaking as you waited for the other line to fall silent. Seven times it rang, and right when you were losing hope there's a crisp click as the other line is answered. You held your breath, heart thumping against your chest as you heard his familiar voice on the other side of the line.

“Yn…yn are you there?’’

“I-i’m here Hee.’’

“Oh my god, fuck it’s been a year since everyone has heard from you. We tried to call and text for months but never got an answer. How are you? Did something happen? You’re calling so suddenly?’’ he spitfires on the other line, and for some reason your nerves had begun to melt away. There were so many things you had to tell him but hearing his voice and knowing that no matter how much time had passed he still cared, it made your heart swell.

“Actually that’s what I was calling about, there are some things that I have to say, I know that so much time has passed..but Can we meet? All of us, You, Me, Sunghoon, Jay and Jake?’’ you held your breath as you anticipated his response, it wasn’t until you heard a quick “yes, yes of course.’’ that you fully released it.

“Where should we meet? I’ll call them all and tell them. They’ll be happy to hear from you.’’

“Moonstruck cafe? At around 3ish?’’ you respond, finally being able to feel some sort of relief now that the hardest part is over.

“We’ll be there.’’ and with that final confirmation that you would finally be seeing them all after a year, you both bid your goodbyes before hanging up the phone. You immediately fall back onto the bed listening to the hum of the air conditioner as your eyes trace the corners and creases of your ceiling. Your hand rested on your stomach and you counted the times your chest rose and fell with every waking second. Your eyes shift over to the clock at your bedside, two hours until you had to meet with them all, two hours until you had to confess to them that you had blamed all of them who were probably also hurting in the absence of their best friend.

You sat nervously fidgeting with your hands, your tea that was once piping hot now ran completely cold. You were too nervous to eat let alone pick up a drink and you were starting to wonder why you’d gotten in the first place with such knowledge. The ding to the entrance made your head immediately turn to the door and you stiffen in your seat as you see them all trail in. Jay, Sunghoon, Jake then Heeseung. The moment their eyes fell upon you a smile met each of their faces, Jake was the first to run to you and envelope you in the strongest hug, so tight he’d nearly blocked your airways. They each trailed behind you pulling you into their arms to give you the long overdue hugs that they’d waited so long to give you.

“Where have you been all this time.’’ Jake starts, you were sure he was ready to bombard you with all the questions in the world but Jay was quick to put a stop to it.

“Will you let her speak before you ask a million and one questions.’’ he reprimands, sliding into the booth across from you.

“It’s okay Jay, I know all of you probably have a lot of questions and i’m going to answer them but first there's something that I have to say.’’ You had their full attention, all eyes were practically glued to you and it made it hard to speak, but you had no choice.

“I want to say that…that I'm sorry to all of you. When I first found out what happened I was broken and hurt and I didn’t know what to do. I just needed to be alone. I know that you all care for me and you may have been worried but then I was just so hurt and confused on how to pick myself up from this that I started to blame all of you that he wasn’t here. I made it all of your faults when it was never because of you, neither of you could have predicted this would happen and knowing how stubborn Jungwon was if you’d offered to go with him he would have kept reassuring you that he was good on his own. I know it’s terrible, to put the blame on all of you and shut you out for an entire year but.’’ you suck in a breath, trying to prevent the tears that were so close to falling, from spilling out your eyes. “I just found someone to blame because I was hurt and I was lost and I'm so sorry. I’m sorry for shutting you all out and acting the way that I did. I don’t know if you can forgive me but I really do feel terrible. You all mean so much to Jungwon, to me and I ignored that because I was in a dark place.’’

There was a silence lingering, as if they all were mapping out the right words to say, but to you the silence was painful. Silence gave you too much time to overthink. Silence was a very manipulative thing, it could force the mind to draft ideas and conclusions that can entrap one to the confines of their mind. You always hated it for that very reason because it gave you too much time to be in your head, too lost in the forests of your mind that more often felt more like a jungle with the emotions it carried. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, just sat nervously fidgeting with your fingers under the table, unable to physically relax until you felt someone's hand rest on yours and Jay finally broke the silence.

“We understand.’’ Finally the weight on your shoulders had been lifted enough for you to hold their gazes. Each of them nodding in agreement voicing their acceptance of your apology.

“We aren’t hurt because we understand. The one thing that hurts is not knowing you were okay, having you shut us out is far worse. It’s a normal human function to grives and not know where to place those emotions so we don’t hold that against you but I wish you’d just come to us. Even in that moment if you needed to yell, if you needed somewhere to place the hurt maybe then it would have hurt our feelings but we would have been there. You shouldn’t have had to feel all of that alone.’’ Your eyes searched his own for any ounce of spite or hurt in his gaze but there was none. Jay’s words were completely genuine, meant to be comforting rather than make you feel worse than you had.

‘We always told you that you have been like a sister to us. Ever since we met you and Jungwon it was like this light had been brought into our lives. You both have this infectious energy and optimism that can light up a room at the darkest times. What kind of men would we be if we let you go through that alone, if we blamed you for grieving when we were also feeling the same things. Blaming the organization for sending him off, blaming everyone for a fault that was no ones, because space is unpredictable.’’ Jake chimes in, all of them finally seeming to voice their feelings for the first time in what was possibly months. It was like they’d waited for this moment, like they were waiting to get to you so that you could all grieve and feel. So that all of you could heal together and take it day by day knowing you wouldn’t be alone.

“Sunghoon went as far as ruining the office when he found out they planned on stopping the search after two months. He blamed everyone, even those that weren’t involved in the launch.” Jake admits, forcing your gaze to drift ti Sunghoon who had sat there silently for the time being. He had been the closest to Jungwon, the two of them having gone through the stem program together and being reunited when Jungwon had been accepted into NASA. You felt guilt twinge at the pit of your stomach because for the first time you were fully realizing that you didn’t just isolate yourself, you left them in their time of need. There was hesitance in Sunghoons demeanor as he seemed to be rooting out all the things he should and shouldn’t say to you.

“When I found out, I wanted to destroy everything. I was angry. Angry that they would send him up there alone, that they would stop the search only after two months of trying and just give up on contact. I needed somewhere to place all of it and I took it out on everyone no matter how deep their involvement was, I didn't care. I just needed someone to blame because it felt like I was losing my brother and there was nothing I could do.’’ Sunghoon was someone that you’d known to rarely lose his temper, he’d always been the one to calm the others down when Jungwon wasn’t around but to hear that he had been so hysterical, so out of it made your heart swell with despair.

“All of us have had a hard time grieving it, there are many moments that we aren't proud of.’’ Heeseung adds, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, in that moment you weren't sure it was more so for his convenience or yours, but it didn’t matter. “I stayed up countless nights, skipped meals, stared at the wall for hours on end just blaming myself, wondering what I could have done to prevent it. Thinking about how things would have gone if i’d gone with him. Then he wouldn’t be alone out there. Or at least I'd know if he was alive; Safe. Time and time again these guys have had to pull me out of a dark place because I was convinced that I was part of the reason he wouldn’t be coming back. I needed there to be a reason when in reality it’s just life. Life can snatch the happiness from right beneath your feet at any moment and leave you blaming everyone. Yourself, your friends, The world. All because we need there to be a reason bad things happen in our life. If there's a reason it makes it easier to grieve and accept. We’ve all been there yn.’’

“So we can’t sit here and blame you for finding ways to grieve when we’ve all been hurting.’’ Jay's words hit you like a truck and you were too late in realizing the tears that had started to fall down your face. They were really your family, and all this time you’d abandoned your family who was also in pain, to grieve alone.

“I’m sorry, for not realizing that all of you were also in pain and that you needed me. That we needed each other.’’ Heeseung shakes his head as he wipes the tears from your face. “You came to us when you were ready, it may have taken a long time but you’re here with us now and that’s all we care about.”

“So stop with the tears, you’re getting them all in your tea.’’ Jake says teasingly, trying his best to now lighten the mood which thankfully works because it has you laughing through the tears.

“And now that we have you back you can’t go ghost on us again.’’ Jay says, sliding a napkin over to your side of the table so you could clean your face properly.

“As a matter of fact Heeseung has something to tell you.” Jake spills, eying heeseung with a cheeky smile on his face. Lifting your head from Heeseungs shoulder where it previously lay, you look up at him.

“What is it?’’

“Well i’m having an engagement party this upcoming saturday.’’ Heeseung spills, and the moment the words fall from his lips you find yourself beaming. You’d always known Heeseung to be a flirt out of the four of them, he often showed up to you and Jungwons house parties with a new fling every month, so to hear that he had finally found someone to settle down with had you over the moon.

“Oh my god Heeseung!? That’s amazing! What’s she like? What do you like about her? Does she want kids?”

“You can ask her all the questions you want this saturday because you’re coming and you can invite Soobin and the others as well.’’ He gave you no time to refuse his invite, not that you would have refused it anyways.

The rest of your evening you sat there beaming and gushing over every detail he’d given you about their relationship. How they met, where they met, when and where he proposed and how he did it. The only thing you’d wish had been different about the evening was your desire to have Jungwon sat there at your side with you. You found yourself feeling so giddy when you returned home that night, it felt like things were slowly falling into place and even if you didn’t know what the future held you knew that there had to be a light at the end of your tunnel.

You had done everything you needed for the night, showered, facial care, washed your hair for the night and then slipped into your pajamas. But before the night was over, before you slipped into the coziness and warmth of your bed there was something you needed to do to finish off your night. As always you found yourself sitting in the lounge chair near the backyard window, warm cup of tea in hand and the camera set up on the coffee table with the brand new tripod you’d gotten when you decided this was something you’d take seriously.

“I believe this is log number five now, It hasn’t been that long since i’ve started these.” you smile, your gaze lingering to the view beyond the curtains as you momentarily gather your thoughts. “I still miss you, of course I miss you but I'm doing better today, a lot happier than I was before. The guys miss you too you know…I saw them for the first time in a year today and I was so nervous but it was like no time had been missed between us all.” a lighthearted laugh spills past your lips recalling the events at the cafe earlier that day.

“You’re not going to believe it but Heesungs is getting married in two months. His engagement party is in four days and I wish you were here to go with me, but I guess Soobin isn’t such a bad date. It’s still hard, learning to go about my day without you or do things I'd normally do with you alone but I'm learning and I think I've been doing pretty well lately. Alicia has helped a lot with that even though we haven't had many sessions. I think she works with me and guides me in a healthy way that makes me feel open to being vulnerable with her. I think with her, and the guys….with soobin and the others too i'll be okay. So don’t worry about me up there my love just get home to me safe La lune te ramènera chez moi en toute sécurité (the moon will bring you home to me safely). Goodnight my love.’’ You place a kiss on your palm and cover the camera before ending your log there and heading to bed for the night. If only you knew the lengths that he’d been going through to make it home to you.

Jungwons hands were trembling with the press of every button, he hadn’t slept a wink ever since he’d woken up to find that his message was intercepted. This meant that somewhere in the area a satellite was nearby and if he could get close enough then he could make contact. He’d brought himself to the brink of chronic insomnia, forcing him to stay up for that one opening, that one moment that would provide him relief. But just then, right when he was slipping away, right when he was failing to keep his eyes open. “Yang this is riot thirteen, come in Yang.”

Jungwons eyes had never opened so fast, he sprung from his chair like a jack in a box after you’d winded its crank no less than a few times. He was feeling so many things at once, relief, fatigue, dread, anxiety it was like every emotion the human body could possibly feel had been pooling into him all at once. “Riot thirteen this is Jungwon, holy shit. Come in.’’

“Holy shit it really is him.’’ You could hear on the other line, Heeseung, the man whose voice he hadn’t heard in so long it almost felt like a dream. “Holy shit, it’s him.’’

There was slight commotion in the background of the comms sector, From the moment Jungwons first message had been intercepted there was an intense hope lingering in the sector. Hope that the message wasn't just an interception of something Jungwon had decided to make long ago when he was freshly sent off. Jungwon felt so much relief swell in his chest, he couldn’t stop the flow of tears that eventually came rolling down his face.

“Heeseung?’’

“Holy shit, we’re gonna bring you home. We’re gonna bring you home.’’ Heeseung was hysterical, he couldn't bring himself to form any other words other than those. It was like gravity itself had come crashing down and he felt all the pressure and tension in his chest. On the other line Jungwon was silent, a silent string of cries and sharp breaths as he just sat there, the weight of fatigue setting in. It was like he was experiencing psychosis,he had been up there so long that he couldn’t fathom this moment being real but it was, they were going to bring him home to you.

“Heeseung don’t…don’t tell her I'm coming home. I want to be there. If we give her hope and I don’t make it then.’’

“You’re going to make it. She’s waiting for you. We’ve all been waiting for you.” heeseung snaps on the other line, they'd waited all that time for a breakthrough and he was going to make sure Jungwon made it home even if it meant doing the resume mission himself.

“Soobin hurry the hell up, how is it that I have a face full of makeup and it’s taking you longer than me to get ready.’’ you rush him, eyeing the clock as you and the others all waited for Soobin to come out of the bathroom.

“I told you he takes longer than me.’’ Yeonjun murmurs over to Taehyun who you were sure weren’t even listening to begin with.

“You can’t rush perfection Bella.’’ finally he images from your bathroom and by the looks of it nothing changed other than his outfit and hair.

“It took you an hour and a half to put on a fucking shirt and pants?’’ Beomgyu questions, making Huening Kai snort from his spot in the corner.

“It only took less than five minutes to get dressed the hour and a half was all hair.’’

“You know what talk about it in the car or we’re going to be late let’s go.’’ you rush them all up out of their spots and out the door not wanting to waste any further time bickering over Soobins ability to be a total diva. Between Beomgyus endless yelling, Taehyun and Yeonjuns bickering and soobin practically talking your ear off the ride had been a complete chaotic mess. You were more than happy the moment you arrived at Heeseungs place and were finally able to step out of the car, you practically ran away from the five of them. The moment Jay opens the door and sees you standing there with that already tired expression on your face he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing’s even started yet and you already look like you’re ready to lay for a nap.’’ he laughs before stepping aside and letting you all in.

“You can blame the four of them, Kai was the only bearable one throughout the entire ride and that’s just because he sat quietly looking out the window the entire time.”

“Well excuse me for trying to keep you entertained in the front seat.’’ soobin mumbles, scrunching up his face at you.

“So sorry binnie, I appreciate you sooo much.’’ You respond, a fake pout on your lips as you pull him in for a side hug.

“The others are out back right now, Heeseung had to step out for something but he’ll be back soon then we can all eat.’’ Jay explains, giving all of you the quick rundown of things.

‘Finally you’re here do you know how long we’ve been waiting. I was starting to think you were gonna disappear again.” an already half-drunk Jake appears with the company of Sunghoon.

“Nope, i’m not going anywhere, not this time. Soobin wouldn’t let that happen anyways.’’ you smile while giving soobin a friendly punch on the arm.

“I wouldn’t we just started getting you back.’’ he gives your shoulders a loving shake.

It felt nice to be with all of them and finally feel like you were free from your worries and thoughts. It had been so long since you’d smiled and laughed like the way you were with all of them. The energy had been so infectious and wired with a spark that you hadn’t felt since before Jungwon had gone, but then something shifted. Not so much in a bad way but you could tell there was a shift in energy the moment you heard the front door swing open behind you. All eyes were now focused on whatever, or whoever had just come into the door, big smiles on each of their faces. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you move to turn around, the smile falling from your lips and air knocked out of your lungs the moment you turn to see him standing there.

It was like the world slowed around you and everyone else had dissolved into matter, lost in thin air. You had tunnel vision, he was the only thing you could see. If you hadn’t still been standing there breathing you would have thought your heart stopped the moment his eyes locked on yours but it was still beating. Your heart, His heart both beating in proximity, finding the sync they once lost before he had gone away. It felt so surreal running into his arms having his arms wrap around you, having him hold you so tight as if you would slip away at any moment. Hot tears seeping into his shirt, whispered ‘i love yous’ and ‘i missed you so much —It was like the two of you were in your own world, own universe even.

For Jungwon this felt like some sort of warped reality to finally be here with you. Fingers tangled in your hair as he held you close to him and took in the warmth of your body. He had missed you more than anything, your laugh, your smile, the smell of your perfume had gone lost to his memory with how long he’d been away.

“Let’s leave them alone.’’ Heeseung suggests, his words going deaf to your ears as your sole focus was now the man in front of you. Your husband, the one you’d wait lifetimes for.

“Is this real?’’ you manage to croak out.

“It’s real,baby I'm here. I'm home. I came back to you.’’ he responds, showering you with kisses not leaving one inch of your face untouched by his lips. It felt like centuries since you had tasted his lips, since his lips danced against your own like the perfect sculpture molded to perfection all for yours.

“When, how..?’’ so many questions you wanted to ask him but you didn’t know where to start.

“I’ll tell you all of it, everything you want to know when it’s just the two of us but now just let me be with you.’’ he pleads, leaving soft kisses on your hands, neck, face, lips. His lips danced so gracefully against your skin that it made your heart beat like a melodic song. You never left his side that entire night and he never left yours, it was like you’d been glued to one another the entire night. Like if either of you let go one of you was bound to slip away. Everyone had been happy to see him back, happy to know that he was now home safe and in your arms but no one was happier than you.

When you finally returned home the two of you clung to one another like koalas, like there was a magnetic force pulling and tugging at each of you forcing you to remain within close proximity. You both sat lying in bed, your eyes scanning his face, every outline or detail that you’d almost forgotten. The details that a photograph alone couldn’t do justice. His hands lovingly drew circles on your waist while you sat fingers lovingly twirling in his hair, or tracing over his cheekbones.

“I missed you. So much more than words can describe.’’ He finally breaks the comfort of silence, pulling you close to his chest. Close enough to hear his heart thump against it.

“I worried about you every day, if you were okay. About you being alone up there. Jungwon I prayed every day that you would come home to me safe and sound. I never lost hope that you were still up there somewhere.’’ he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, thumbs drawing gentle circles on your hips.

“It did get hard. I was starting to lose hope that I would ever see you. I didn’t think I’d ever get home back to you. I broke. But when the message I made for you was intercepted I stayed up for what felt like two days waiting for a sign or signal. Anything to get me back to you or at least let you know I was okay.’’

“A message for me?’’

“A video, If I wasn’t going to come back I wanted you to know that it was okay if you moved on and found someone else to love. I wanted you to be happy even if that wasn’t me. I would have been happy knowing that I died loving you, that my first and last love was you. The girl I knew i would love for the rest of my life since I was only six years old.’’ Again the tears had started, so many emotions swarming you amidst the happiness and comfort you felt just being in his arms again.

“I made messages for you too.’’ pushing yourself up from his chest you turn to grab your camera from the nearby nightstand. “Soobin, well Soobin convinced me to see someone, a therapist and she suggested that I make these logs for you about my day…at first I thought it was dumb but..then they became my only relief.’’ you hand the camera over to him and disappear down the hallway to get your laptop from his office. This was the first time you would be watching those videos and looking back on everything you said to him. While you couldn’t bring yourself to watch or listen to yourself talk he gave every video his full attention.

As much as the videos made him smile there were also logs that left his heart swollen in his chest, how restless you looked in the first one. How he could practically feel your pain through the lenses, it hurt him to see and know that you were hurting no matter how strong or hopeful you tried to be.

“You are so strong. Even if you think you need me to rely on you, I think it’s the other way around. You’ve always been my rock, the thing that keeps me calm and not having you up there with me. Being alone and away from you for so long made me realize that you keep me sane and grounded. These Logs, these videos are evidence that even without me you can be okay, you're the calm before and after the storm. Not just for me but for the guys, for soobin and the others or even your employees at work. You make things better. You make it easier to see the light at the end of the tunnel.’’

“Jungwon.’’ your eyes were swimming with tears, ripples of clearwater that felt like the impact of the ocean crashing against the shoreline.

“I missed you more than words can ever describe. I never thought i’d have to choose between two things that I love until the moment everything was ripped away from me.’’

“Wait Jungwon what do you mean choose?’’

“If I have to choose between you and space I want to choose you every time. If there's a possibility that you could lose me to my career then maybe it’s time I let it go.’’ your heart sank in your chest, you never thought those words would leave his mouth. As scary as it was to think you could lose him because of the career he pursued you couldn’t let him give up on the one thing he dreamt to be since he was four.

“Jungwon.’’ taking the laptop and moving it aside you take the place in his lap, holding his face in your hands, “you cannot let the fear of something like this happening rip you away from what you love. I’ve watched you build spaceships in the yard with your father. You stayed up endless nights working your ass off and studying to get where you are now. you put so much work in and this is just a minor setback. You’ve always said to yourself that space is unpredictable and you never know what can happen or what you’ll find. You said those words. It scares me to think that something like this could happen but i will not let you give up on something you worked so hard for.’’ His gaze weighed a thousand tons, he always looked at you as if you were the stars. As if you found ways to light up his dark path when things looked bad.

“You cannot give up Jungwon, I missed you so much. The wait was so agonizing but you’re here now. You’re here with me.’’ Your words were so comforting at that moment. Stepping out of that ship for the first time and touching ground again after so many years had him so sure of his decision. But having you here, sitting in his lap encouraging him to not give up was making him waver. The two of you had been through a hell of your own in just that year alone but you weren’t letting that get in the way of things. You had always been that way, always been the one to support and encourage him to keep putting his best foot forward when things were getting tough. You really were like the stars to him, the stars that guided him home, back to security anytime he found himself drifting aimlessly.

2 years later

“Yang Jungwon i swear if you’re late for this wedding, i’m going to come down to that space center and kick your ass.’’You yell at him through the phone as you sat combing out your daughter's hair.

“Touching down now my love.’’ He responds on the other line and you could hear the smile in his town which only makes you roll your eyes.

“Daddy, are you finally coming home? Will you tell me about your trip?’’ your daughter beams, making him chuckle on the other line. He had been gone on a week long trip and in that timespan she had not stopped asking questions about him. Needless to say you weren’t the only one proud of Jungwon, hell if your daughter could tell everyone in the world that her father was an astronaut she would.

“I’ll tell you all about it after the wedding catbug.’’ he responds, making you smile at their little interaction. ‘Catbug’ the nickname Jungwon had given her because it was all she would watch, she’d watched so often that she nearly knew every line which absolutely amazed you because she was only two.

“I love you both, I’ll see you at the wedding.’’ you respond with a hum, hearing him cough on the other line as he waits for you both to say it back.

“We love you too, please get there safely.’’ you finally respond, making him smile as you both finally hang up the phone.

“Alright bug all done.’’ you lift her up into your arms as you finally finish her hair, showering her with loving kisses that always seemed to fill your halls with her laughter. “Let’s get going, your uncles are probably all waiting to see you.’’

The ride to the wedding venue was full of consistent chatter from her, mostly random things, her quoting catbug or randomly mentioning the things she would catch glimpses of outside your window. You loved how energetic she was, she was just like this beacon of light. Your own bundle of joy that took no less than 24 hours of crying and pushing and squeezing Jungwons hands to bring into the world. You’d never forget when you held her for the first time and it was like your life had shifted for the better seeing that sparkle in her eyes that reminded you so much of Jungwons.

When you arrived at the venue you were surprised to see that Jungwon had beaten you there and by the looks of the smile on his face you were starting to conclude that he had already been here the entire time.

“Daddy!’’ your daughter had barely given you any time to put her down before she was already trying to escape your hold and run over to him. He gladly lifts her into his arms and kisses all over her face leaving you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Now i know why it was so noisy in the background of our call, when did you touchdown?’’

“An hour ago.’’ He responds with a cheeky smile making you shake your head as you glide on over to him. “Both my girls look beautiful.’’

“Mm you look handsome for someone that had to do all of this on a spacecraft.’’ You respond teasingly, stepping to his side and placing a kiss on his lips before wiping off your lip gloss from them.

“Are you saying I usually dress bad on the ship?’’

“Well blue isn’t exactly your color.’’ you respond playfully.

“Do they have purple astronaut clothes, I want mine to be purple.’’ your daughter questions, making him chuckle.

“You can wear whatever color you want catbug.’’ he responds, giving her a light tickle before putting her down.

“Let’s go and find your uncle soobin bug, you can sit with him while me and your daddy walk the aisle.’’ her hands lock with both of yours as she happily kicks her feet up off the ground at the mention of her uncle (her favorite uncle because he bribed her with sweets).

Once she was in a secure place with Soobin the two of you wandered off to join the other bridesmaids and groomsmen for the wedding march. The moment took you back to the night of you and Jungwons wedding and how surreal the moment had been, you wouldn't believe how much time had passed since then. Years seemed to go by in the blink of an eye when it was the two of you together. From childhood to adulthood the two of you had spent every waking moment together. You both grew up together, learned to love and tend to each other in ways only the two of you had known how. As you stood, arms linked with his, prepared to march down the aisle again for one of your closest friends' wedding, you couldn’t help but hope that your daughter would find a love like this. A love so strong that it hurts to be apart, because being apart meant your hearts no longer synced. The space between heartbeats that had always beat together was a painful kind of love, but it was also a beautiful thing.

PERM TAGLIST: @sol3chu @addictedtohobi @heartheejake @gweoriz @annybah @iarainha @nishimura-mimura @gweoriz @deaddcrow @bbangbies @kimuranirisi @wonzzziezzzz @dazeymazey11 @stayar1 @neogotmysam @starsmew @taystarr @icatpjs @sunshisthings @hwang-hynjin @joneborder @izzyy-stuff @claumbeju @bubblytaetae @imzhouxinyu @firstclassjaylee @i-am-not-dal @sasha-b4 @luvjichang @lveegsoi @soobundle1009 @juliejulesjule @zoe1love @mymayaship

[ikeuwoniee]

SWEET INHIBITIONS | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you know what they say, never answer a call from your boss when you’re drunk off your mind—oh, and never tell him that he desperately needs to get laid.

word count: 6.4k

warnings (18+): smut. swearing. pet names (sweetheart, baby). alcohol. kissing. heavy petting. spanking. semi-public sex. rough sex. office sex. unprotected sex. light teasing. minor brat taming (?). slight dacryphilia.

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: been dying to do an office siren fic for the longest time, lol. and being a huge fan of ‘the devil wears prada’ this just had to be done.

People-watching was a secret pleasure.

When writer’s block struck or your motivation dipped, your gaze naturally wandered across the sea of Vogue employees—the editorial department, buzzing with energy, some typing furiously, others fighting off yawns as they cradled half-empty lattes.

It was a vibrant chaos, punctuated by the occasional sound of heels clacking or phones ringing.

For the past week, your unofficial subject of interest has been Audrey Klein, one of the junior beauty editors.

Every day at precisely 1:00 PM, Audrey would reapply her signature lipstick—Dior Addict 922, a sultry red that had headlined Vogue’s “Power Lips for Winter” feature last month.

She’d peer into her compact mirror with laser precision, tousle her bangs into submission, and sashay toward the pantry with the confidence of a supermodel strutting the red carpet.

Her heels echoed through the bullpen, catching a few glances like she anticipated. The cacophony of staff chatter and the steady hum of keyboards seemed to fade when she passed.

“She’s at it again,” Anton, your cubicle neighbor and the office gossip, murmured as he perched on the edge of your desk.

He nodded toward the pantry where Audrey now leaned against the counter, laughing at something your features editor, Park Sunghoon, had just said.

“Do you think he even notices her?”

Park Sunghoon was practically a Vogue institution. At a young age, he gracefully ascended to Features Editor after a meteoric rise from editorial assistant.

With his impeccable tailoring, razor-sharp instincts, and a résumé that included stints at L’Officiel and Harper’s Bazaar, Sunghoon embodied everything Vogue stood for: brilliance, beauty, and an aura of untouchable mystery.

But the real excitement around the office? Sunghoon was devastatingly handsome. Unfairly so, as Anton liked to say.

He was like a dreamboat from Ancient Greek mythology, beautiful eyebrows, perfectly aligned moles, hypnotic brown eyes that seemed to see right through you—and a smile that drove the young seasonal interns crazy, though that was a very rare occasion.

And yet, he was maddeningly aloof, entirely unbothered by the countless women who lingered a little too long at his desk.

“Dedication or desperation?” you mused, glancing at Serena. “I’ll never understand why everyone worships him. He’s…exhausting.”

Anton snickered, twirling a pen effortlessly between his fingers. “He’s also fine.”

He stops, tapping the pen against his chin in pensive thought, “I guess his beauty is an apology for his scary personality.”

Anton was only partially right.

Sometimes, you hated the way your stomach would twist whenever he glanced at you during a meeting, willing away your unfathomable fantasies—because, at the end of the day, his looks couldn’t overcompensate for his personality.

Park Sunghoon terrified you.

Not in the obvious sense though. He wasn’t loud or explosive. Sunghoon didn’t need to raise his voice to make his point. He could slice through your confidence with a single look or a flat, unimpressed tone.

And yet, despite the intimidation, you couldn’t help yourself.

You were stubborn. Always had been. And that stubbornness meant that every time he ripped apart one of your articles—usually with a sigh and a biting comment—you couldn’t just sit there and take it.

You’d defend yourself, argue your points, even as your palms got clammy and your voice wavered just slightly under the weight of his simmering gaze.

“You’re insufferable,” Sunghoon said once, after a particularly heated debate over a piece you’d written about emerging fashion tech trends.

You’d stayed late in his office, going back and forth until he finally waved a hand and let you keep half your original draft.

“And you’re impossible,” you’d shot back, clutching your notes to your chest like a shield.

But you’d do it anyway. You’d rewrite your drafts, re-interview sources, and pull all-nighters just to meet his exacting standards. No matter how stubborn you were, the truth was you always gave in.

You did everything Park Sunghoon requested—eventually.

And maybe that was what frustrated you most. Because no matter how hard you fought, he always won in the end.

It wasn’t just you, either. Sunghoon had a way of getting under everyone’s skin. You’d seen seasoned journalists break under his criticism, storming out of meetings or retreating to the bathroom to cry.

He was unrelenting, unapologetic, and always right—or at least, he acted like he was.

Still, despite everything, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t quit. You didn’t crumble.

And that, in itself, was something of a miracle.

Sunghoon had once acknowledged it in his own infuriating way. After tearing apart one of your drafts and sending you back to rewrite for the third time, he’d leaned back in his chair and said, “You’re stubborn. But you’re good. That’s why you’re still here.”

It wasn’t a compliment—not really. But coming from him, it almost felt like one.

So yes, Park Sunghoon intimidated you. He frustrated you. Sometimes, you even despised him.

You grumbled, returning to the half-written article on your screen. “101 Tips to Get the Guy” wasn’t your finest pitch, but it had been approved begrudgingly.

Now you were stuck trying to make a glorified listicle feel worthy of Vogue.

“Oh- three o’clock,” Anton whispered knowingly before retreating to his own desk.

The sound of Sunghoon’s voice startled you.

“(Y/N),” Sunghoon greeted, appearing beside you. His tone was just as sharp, cutting through the din of the office.

He held a coffee cup—likely a black coffee, cold foam, his usual drink of choice—and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“How’s the article coming?”

You turned, only to be met with the sharp lift of his brow. He adjusted his glasses, the motion precise and maddeningly deliberate.

“Don’t bother lying.” His voice was cold, laced with quiet disdain. “I’ve seen you staring at Serena all day.”

“I wasn’t…” you trailed off, voice growing small as his brown eyes narrowed slightly, looking away as your face flushed.

“Sure,” he said dryly. “Bring me what you have. My office. Ten minutes.” Sunghoon didn’t wait for a response, striding back to his glass-walled corner office.

You winced, shrinking into a puddle while Anton flashed you a sympathetic smile. “Great,” you groaned under your breath, scrambling to pull your draft together.

Sunghoon’s office was as intimidating as the man himself: a sleek mix of polished mahogany and chrome, with towering shelves of art books, Claude Monet impressions and archival issues of Vogue.

He leaned against his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a dreamy editorial spread come to life.

But this somehow felt more reminiscent of a REM Nightmare.

“Let’s see it,” he said, motioning for you to hand him the printout of your article.

You stood awkwardly, clammy hands clasped behind your back as he scanned the first few paragraphs.

The silence was deafening.

Crashing a friend’s psychology class one time in college, could only tell you so much about body language.

Furrowed brows, then raised. Short, irritated huffs between each paragraph—the bottom line? It wasn’t looking good.

After a moment, he sighed—long and dramatic—before dragging a hand through his hair and shoving his glasses up into it.

Why did he have to look so hot when he was disappointed?

“This… reads like something out of Seventeen magazine.” Sunghoon dropped the pages onto his desk with a thud.

“Excuse me?” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

“This isn’t Vogue, sweetheart,” he continued, ignoring your indignation. “This is…fluff. A cute checklist for teenagers who are still figuring out contouring. We don’t do fluff here. We do substance. Style and sophistication. This? It’s juvenile.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “With all due respect, Sunghoon, the concept was approved. I’m simply delivering exactly what was asked for.”

Sunghoon straightened, his sharp gaze pinning you to the spot. “And I’m asking you to elevate it. Vogue readers don’t need ‘101 Tips to Get the Guy.’ They need insight. Depth. Why not reframe it? Something like, ‘The Science of Seduction: Beauty Hacks Proven to Work.’”

“That’s…” You paused, begrudgingly acknowledging it was a better angle.

“It’s Vogue,” Sunghoon said simply, leaning back. “Rewrite it. And please, try not to bore me this time.” He waved you off like a rejected textile, dismissing your presence as he made a call.

The walk back to your desk felt much like a walk of shame, slamming your notebook down with a frustrated sigh.

“Rough?” Anton asked, biting into his sandwich.

“Rough is an understatement. Sunghoon called my article juvenile,” you hissed, collapsing into your chair.

Anton shrugged. “He’s probably just stressed y’know? Winter issues are always chaotic.”

“Yeah, but chaotic doesn’t give him the right to be a jerk,” you shot back. “Honestly, he just needs a good lay.”

Anton almost choked on his food, “with his face?” He smirked, “He probably gets more action than anyone here.”

“With his personality?” you countered, turning to his office.

Over the frosted partition, you could spot him pacing, grateful you weren’t the one being yelled at over the phone.

“Highly doubtful.” You continued.

Anton raised an eyebrow. “I…wouldn’t be so sure. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you wouldn’t mind finding out yourself.”

Your glare could’ve melted steel. “Not even in my worst nightmares.”

But even as you said it, your mind wandered—briefly—to how Sunghoon had looked leaning against his desk, adjusting his tie with his sleeves rolled up, tearing your work to shreds.

Infuriating. And annoyingly hot.

But he was still an insufferable prick. So, you pushed the thought aside and focused on your screen, hammering out an article that might—just might—finally earn a fragment of his approval without the usual snide remarks.

The city sparkled under the glow of Manhattan’s nightlights, alive with the usual buzz of life roaring in the busy streets.

The day of work was finally over, and you, Anton, and Yunjin, fresh from the trenches of Vogue, stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue impatiently flagging down a cab in the gelid air.

Yunjin had her coat draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape, exuding effortless elegance as always, while Anton clutched a bag of takeout fries he’d snagged from a food truck on the way out.

“Where are we going again?” you asked, voice slightly muffled by the scarf you were wrapping around your neck.

“Lustra,” Yunjin beamed, checking her phone with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Chic but not pretentious—and they make a mean Moscow mule that’ll change your life.”

Anton let out a low whistle, his breath slipping through the sharp hisses of cold air. “It better for the prices they charge. You sure they’ll let me in? I’m just a humble journalist. Not exactly a hot commodity like you two.”

“Oh please, Anton,” Yunjin scoffed, stepping gracefully into the cab that had finally pulled up. “You’re literally gorgeous, they’ll let you in.”

Lustra was everything Yunjin promised: dim lighting, plush velvet seating, and a DJ spinning music at just the right volume to feel alive without completely drowning conversation.

The three of you nestled into a corner booth, Moscow mules in hand, and dissolved into the kind of freewheeling, tipsy conversation that made you forget the stress the day had given you.

Yunjin, as usual, was glowing—slightly moving to the music’s beat. “Did I mention Scarlett and I hit six months last weekend?” she said, her tone humble yet smug.

“Congrats!” you said sincerely, raising your glass as the man beside you gave the beaming girl congratulatory hug.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Anton groaned sarcastically. “Meanwhile, I went on a date with a girl who ditched me the second I started talking about my favorite filmmakers. Can you believe that? How do you date someone who doesn’t know who Coppola is?”

You paused, a bit confused, “wait, Francis or Sofia?”

“Sofia.” Anton simply states and Yunjin snorts into her drink, “Okay, very tasteful but you really need to leave the fanboying for like, fifth dates, Anton.”

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Anton asked, eyeing you amusingly, nudging your shoulder. “Any love life updates?”

You swirled the remnants of your drink. “Not much to report. Between deadlines and Sunghoon riding my ass, I barely have time for one-night stands,” you paused, downing your drink, “let alone a relationship.”

Anton chuckled. “Oh, here we go again. Another Sunghoon rant incoming.”

“No, seriously!” you insisted, waving your glass.

“That man is the bane of my existence. He’s so uptight, and his looks—fine, I’ll admit he’s hot—do not make up for his sour mood. And you know what he needs? A good one-night stand. Someone to take the edge off so he’ll stop ruining my life.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, her lipstick-stained glass hovering mid-air. “And who, pray tell, is this mysterious someone?” She shot a brief conspiring glance towards Anton who smirked.

“Yeah…do we know her?”

“Oh, shut up,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes, laughing. “It’s not me. I wouldn’t touch that man with a ten-foot pole.”

“Hmm,” Anton said, smirking. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

You were just about to retort when your phone buzzed on the table. The name on the screen making your stomach drop.

“Oh, no,” you groaned.

“What?” Yunjin asked, leaning in.

“It’s Sunghoon,” you said, swiping to answer. “I’ll be right back.” You sifted through the crowd, briefly apologizing for the noise as you stepped out.

Outside, the winter breeze bit at your skin as you stepped away from the club’s noise. Sunghoon’s voice finally came through the line, crisp and formal. “(Y/N), I need you to come into the office. Fifteen minutes.”

Your eyes widened as you slowly processed his words, holding back an incredulous laugh—at this hour?

“Are you serious?” you asked, irritation creeping into your tone.

“Very,” Sunghoon replied. “Unless, of course, you’re too busy… gallivanting at clubs.”

Oh you could taste his sarcasm on your tongue, and you would’ve let it slide if it wasn’t filled with such derision.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Gallivanting? People with hobbies call it living, Sunghoon. You should try it sometime.”

His radio silence on the other end—or maybe the alcohol—suddenly gave you the courage to keep going.

“Screw it, you know what your problem is?” you said, words spilling out faster than your brain could process them.

“You’ve got a lot of pent-up anger, and you know what the cure is? Getting laid. Seriously, you’d be doing everyone a favor. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such a miserable ass all the time.”

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice colder than the air around you.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re gorgeous, fine. But your personality? Yikes. That’s probably why women run the other way. Just…” you groaned, “let your inhibitions go for one day, Sunghoon.”

“Maybe then I wouldn’t be standing in the fucking cold because of you!”

With that, you hung up, your heart pounding.

You brushed the setting panic away as you stepped back inside.

You didn’t remember much after that. Brief flashes of hitting the dance floor, and sipping a couple more drinks flickered in your memory, until Anton took you home.

The next morning, you stumbled out of the elevator nursing a hangover that could bring a lesser mortal to their knees.

Sporting oversized sunglasses and clutching a venti black coffee, you mustered up weak smiles to your coworkers in greeting, before you slumped into your chair.

“I must say, those glasses go with your blazer quite well.” Anton greeted you with a knowing grin.

He handed you a Tylenol, and you pouted at him with a grateful smile.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you muttered, sipping your coffee.

“Remind me to never drink like we’re in college again.” You groaned and your best friend chuckled, “but it was fun, our first night off since like, ever.”

“At least I could sleep in after that.” You whined, recalling your haphazard morning routine when you missed your alarm.

Anton leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ooh, looks like someone else had a rough night, too.”

You followed his gaze to Sunghoon, who was pacing the office, angrily critiquing an intern's layout with the precision of a surgeon.

You watched the intern subtly dab a tissue at her eyes when he walked away, immediately restarting her layout.

“Uh-oh,” Anton whispered. “What’s his deal?”

Wait…

Your jaw dropped in horror, as the memories of your call flooded back, ducking under your cubicle.

Anton noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “I think I know why he’s in such a bad mood…”

In a hushed, frantic whisper, you told him everything, recounting your drunken tirade from the night before.

Anton stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and glee—grin growing by every word and detail you dropped.

He placed his croissant down slowly, like he needed his hands free to fully process the chaos.

“You what?” he whispered, leaning in so close it felt like he was about to crawl into your lap.

“I told him to get laid!” you hissed, slumping further into your chair. “I basically said his entire personality is why women run screaming! And I said it while I was drunk in the middle of the street!”

Anton’s face twisted as he tried—and failed—to suppress his laughter. “Oh my God, (Y/N). You didn’t just burn the bridge. You nuked it.”

“Not helping, Ant!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Anton paused, his grin so wide it looked painful.

“Let- let me get this straight. You—our beloved, mild-mannered coworker—called Park Sunghoon, the Ice King of Vogue, an uptight, sexually frustrated killjoy who needs to let loose. Do I have that right?”

“Essentially,” you muttered through your palms.

Anton sat back, folding his arms with a hum as if to fully savor the moment. “You realize you’re my hero now, right?”

“This isn’t funny!” you hissed, peeking over your sunglasses to make sure Sunghoon wasn’t within earshot. “He’s already in a bad mood. What if he fires me?”

Anton waved a dismissive hand. “Please. Sunghoon doesn’t fire people. He just makes their lives a living hell until they quit.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “Super comforting.”

“Honestly, though,” Anton said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “he probably needed to hear it. You’re not wrong. He is an uptight control freak, and let’s be real, he could use a night of… recreational activities.” He let out a chuckle, stopping himself when he noticed your glare.

“You’re supposed to help me, not encourage my demise.”

Anton smirked. “Fine. Damage control time. First, don’t mention it unless he does. Second, be professional, act like nothing happened. And third…” He trailed off, eyes lighting up mischievously.

“What?” you asked warily.

He grinned, snapping his fingers and pointing out, “if he does bring it up, double down. Tell him you’re just looking out for his uh well-being.” He covered his mouth to avoid another giggle from slipping through.

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “I’m doomed.”

At that moment, Sunghoon walked by your desk, his perfectly tailored suit somehow making him look even more intimidating.

He glanced in your direction—just a flicker of his sharp dismissing glare—before continuing down the hall.

Anton leaned closer. “That look was…scary.”

“His looks are always scary,” you muttered, though your stomach churned with nerves.

“No, this was different,” Anton stated. “This was like…‘I’m planning your funeral and choosing tasteful florals for the casket’ scary.”

Before you could respond, Yunjin appeared, holding a stack of mood boards and looking utterly unbothered. “Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Oh, no one’s dead,” Anton said cheerfully. “But (Y/N)’s career might be.”

“Thanks, Anton,” you said dryly.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow. “What happened now?”

Anton wasted no time filling her in, embellishing just enough to make your drunken tirade sound like a full-on Shakespearean monologue.

Yunjin listened, her expression shifting from confusion to horror to amused admiration.

“Well,” Yunjin said finally, “at least you were honest.”

“That’s not helping!” you snapped.

She giggled with a hopeless shrug. “Look, if he hasn’t confronted you about it yet, maybe he’s letting it slide. Or maybe he secretly agrees with you.”

Anton snorted. “Yeah, because Sunghoon is definitely the kind of guy to take constructive criticism well.”

Yunjin looked thoughtful. “Or,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “he’s planning to make you pay for it in the most passive-aggressive way possible.”

You groaned again, face sinking further into your hands. “I need a time machine.”

“Or a therapist,” Anton said.

“Or both,” Yunjin added.

The three of you fell silent as Sunghoon reappeared, this time striding toward his office with a stack of proofs in hand.

He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss.

“Yep,” Anton concluded. “He’s plotting your doom.”

You shot him a withering glare. “I hate you so much.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N)” Anton said with a grin. “If he does fire you, I’ll buy you a consolation martini.”

“Because that’ll fix everything,” you muttered sarcastically as you mentally prepared for whatever wrath Sunghoon was surely about to unleash.

The office printer room was its own little world—tucked into the far corner of the writers floor, dimly lit, and constantly humming with the soft whir of machines churning out drafts, proofs, and pitches.

It was the perfect place to avoid people, particularly a certain brooding features editor who had taken up far too much real estate in your thoughts since last night.

You spent the morning successfully avoiding him, hiding back in your workspace and typing whatever nonsense to look busy, pretending to speak to coworkers when he passed by and making your coffee in the fashion department.

But, of course, you couldn’t evade him forever.

Every passing moment was spent trying to find the right words to say something when your worlds inevitably collided.

You tapped your foot impatiently as the printer sputtered and beeped, taking its sweet time with the twenty-page document you needed for your pitch meeting tomorrow.

You glanced at the door nervously, praying that fate wouldn’t bite you in the ass.

What would you even say? You’re sorry you told the truth? You’re sorry you got “unreasonably” upset that he called you off work?

“Six more pages,” you muttered under your breath, watching the slow machine spit out the pages like it was mocking you. “Just six more…”

The door creaked open, and for a brief, foolish moment, you thought about pretending you hadn’t heard it. But then you caught a whiff of cologne, that telltale wood scent with notes of vanilla and bergamot.

Only he would wear Tom Ford.

“(Y/N).” His voice was low, clipped, and far too close for comfort.

You forced yourself to look up. Sunghoon stood by the door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder.

Even without the blazer, he looked effortlessly immaculate, his white shirt sculpted to perfection, his expression a familiar mask of indifference—except for the way his jaw ticked slightly when your eyes met.

“Mr. Park,” you greeted, your voice straining for neutrality.

You turned back to the printer, focusing on the flashing green light like your life depended on it.

Sunghoon took a few steps closer, the sound of his leather shoes on the tile making your pulse quicken.

“Avoiding me?” he asked casually, but there was an edge to his tone that made your stomach drop.

“No,” you quickly lied.

The printer suddenly shut off, and you cursed under your breath—grabbing whatever stack of papers remained.

You didn’t even bother aligning them, too focused on your escape. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

You turned to leave, but Sunghoon sidestepped, blocking your path. “Busy club hopping?” he asked, arching a brow.

Your face burned.

Of course he remembered.

“I had a night off, it was a personal evening” you said, clutching the papers to your chest like they could shield you from his piercing stare.

"Hmm. Personal," the tall male repeated, the word dripping with irony. "Interesting. Because I recall a very personal call from you last night.”

You cringed, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

“Something about my... personality? Stressed. Uptight. And my supposed need for, what was it again? Oh, right-getting laid." Sunghoon’s voice was calm, but the restrained anger in his tone was palpable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your brain scrambling for something, anything, to say. “I—well, I was…drunk.”

“Clearly.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Drunk enough to think that telling your boss at midnight to psychoanalyze his personal life was a good idea.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done.

“Drunk enough to suggest that I—how did you put it?—‘let my inhibitions go.’”

The way he said it made your face flush even hotter, and your thoughts briefly betrayed you, wondering what it would look like if he ever did.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “It was unprofessional, and it- it won’t happen again.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You’re right,” he said after a moment.

“It was unprofessional. And reckless. And frankly…” He leaned in, just enough to make you feel the heat of his presence. “…you’re lucky I don’t have HR on speed dial.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear, embarrassment, or the undeniable air crackling between you.

“Look, I said I’m sorry,” you said, your voice coming out softer, more desperate than you intended. “I shouldn’t have said—any of that.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond immediately. He simply stepped closer, gaze locked on yours, unreadable and unrelenting.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it, sweetheart.” he said, his voice low and almost dangerous.

“You don’t just…” he trailed off, his eyes dragging over you slowly. “Get to say whatever you want and walk away.”

You stepped back again, only to feel the cool, unyielding surface of the printer against your back.

He was close now—too close. The scent of his cologne made your head spin, and you couldn’t tell if it was the lingering hangover or his intense presence.

“I wasn’t trying to—” you stammered, your throat dry. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Sunghoon interrupted feigning confusion, his hands braced on the machine on either side of you, trapping you in.

“Didn’t mean to call me uptight? Didn’t mean to tell me I needed to get laid?” His tone was sharp, but his gaze softened ever so slightly, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smirk.

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, and you hated how your breath hitched as his face inched closer.

The atmosphere between you was suffocating, the air charged and stifling all at once.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.

“I—I was drunk,” you reasoned again, your voice barely audible.

“And yet,” Sunghoon murmured, leaning down slightly, his dark eyes boring into yours, “you said it. You think I don’t know what you meant?”

You could feel the faintest brush of his breath on your skin as he bridged the thinning gap. Your knees felt weak, and your grip on the papers loosened slightly.

You turned your head, trying to look anywhere but at him, but he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

“Look at me,” Sunghoon said, his voice quieter now, almost a command, but it wasn’t harsh—it was soft, almost…intimate.

You obeyed, your eyes flickering to his, and that was your mistake.

His gaze flicked down briefly to your lips, and your breath caught as his face drew closer, his lips just inches from yours.

The tension was unbearable at his point. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Every logical part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to say something, to step away. But you couldn’t.

And then, before you could think it through—before you could stop yourself—you surged forward, crashing your lips against his.

The stack of papers in your hand fell to the floor in a forgotten mess as your hands reached up instinctively, clutching the fabric of his well pressed shirt.

He groaned against your lips, his voice rough and full of something you couldn't quite name.

For a second—a fraction of a second—you thought Sunghoon might pull away, but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the kiss deepened.

It was everything you didn’t know you needed—hot, consuming, and utterly intoxicating. The taste of espresso and something uniquely him lingered on your tongue as his fingers tightened around your waist, anchoring you to the moment.

You only briefly pulled back, gasping for air, before Sunghoon’s lips chased yours again, kissing you with a force that almost made your knees buckle.

It was frantic, needy and messy in a way that came from too much tension snapping at once.

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as your hands rushed for his buttons, each one revealing a much more intimate vision of him only the naive interns could dream of.

Your hands landed on his chest as he lips grazed along your jaw, planting kisses on your neck that made you fall back in breathy sighs.

They traveled up his neck and into his soft dark strands, moaning softly as he skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, palming your breasts over your lace bra hungrily.

Without any warning you were quickly spun around, and bent over the printer, a soft gasp escaping your tingling lips at the cool contrast of the machine on your hot skin.

“Is this what you meant?” He asked, hating the way your heart skipped at the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you.

His hand crept up your skirt, sending shivers up your spine as he hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, tugging them down without care.

You felt your cheeks flush at the cool air hitting your glistening cunt, practically aching for him.

“Hmm?” He mused, awaiting an answer before landing a sharp, yet pleasurable smack on your ass.

The sound of your gasp echoed off the walls, gripping the machine as you anchored yourself, swallowing a choked moan.

You felt the heat of him pressing against your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your sensitive clit. You let out a breathy moan, trying to rock yourself backwards to feel him inside you.

Sunghoon’s hand pressed firmly on your back, holding you in place with tut. You felt another smack on your reddening skin, holding back a whimper.

“I need you to answer me, sweetheart,” he instructed, “is this what you wanted?”

You nodded, begging he would take the hint.

Of course he didn't, continuing to tease the both of you as his hand caressed your backside, his lips planting kisses across your exposed skin.

When you didn't say anything else Sunghoon spanked you once again, a louder whimper escaping your mouth this time.

"I can’t hear you," he instructed, a smirk tugging his lips, "is this what you wanted?"

"Yes! Fuck." You rushed, with desperate cries.

Without a moment of hesitation his cock slid inside of you, both of you lowly moaning in pleasure.

You had never felt so good in your life.

His hand found its place on your waist, gripping tight as he started a rhythm, bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you willed yourself not to moan.

The last thing you needed was for the whole office leaning their ear against the printing room door in scandalous curiosity.

“Don’t make a sound, ‘hear me?” He instructed, with every slow thrust, inching deeper as you whimpered in response, nodding hastily.

"That's it, sweetheart," he praised, his cock meticulously stretching you out with every passing second, "So fucking tight.."

You shudder under his tight grasp, swallowing a few moans as he slowly bottoms out into you with every drag, arching into him as he bites his lip at the pornographic sight.

“You take me so well, don’t you?” He groaned, practically sensing the cocky smirk on his lips as he reveled in your sweet whimpers.

He was such a prick.

“You’re— you’re a— fuck.” you cry, biting your lip to stifle your moans.

Sunghoon leaned over, his groans tickling the shell of your ear like he wanted you to break, “I’m a what, baby?”

Your brain was too foggy to form a coherent sentence, irritation a mere afterthought as he hit every spot, his cock filling you perfectly. You couldn't even remember the last time someone fucked you so full.

So much for declaring that you wouldn’t even touch Sunghoon with a ten foot pole.

You let your guard down for a few seconds before his hips experimentally snapped into you, lewd moans tumbling past your lips before his hand instantly clamped your mouth.

“You never listen, do you (Y/N)?” Sunghoon grunts, grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you, his cock reaching even more profound places as you cry out, desperate moans muffled by his palm.

His brows furrow, low groans escaping his lips, “so fucking stubborn.”

Your hands search for any surface to grip onto, surging forward from the sheer force of his hips snapping into you, gasps drowned into his palm.

“Walking around challenging my authority?”

You couldn’t respond, pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head, eyes fluttering shut as he pounded into you, making sure to hit the most pleasurable spots inside you.

“Mr Park? Are you in here?” a voice called through the door, loud enough to cut through the haze of everything.

You froze, rising up in alarm before he pushed you down. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, indifferent to the reality of the situation that teetered on the lines of danger.

“Yes,” he called back, his voice calm and steady, yet still rutting into you.

His grip finally left from your side, instead slipping a hand between your thighs and circling over your sensitive clit, jolting as your muffled cries of pure ecstasy were heard by him and no one else.

The voice on the other side hesitated, then added, “I have the updated layouts you asked for.”

Your nails dug into the skin of your palms, fighting the urge to scream as he hitled himself deeply, making a mess of you as he fucked into you over, and over again.

You were damn near the cusp of falling apart from everything, yet the fact that he had the audacity to be so calm and collected while stretching you out, sent you over the edge.

“Leave them on my desk,” Sunghoon replied coolly, not even glancing toward the door.

The footsteps retreated, and you closed your eyes in sheer relief. You were a teary mess now, crying at the dizzying sensation of fingers on you, velvety walls tightly hugging him as his thrusts picked up.

“You crying for me, princess?” He moans, and soft delivery of his words makes your cunt flutter around him.

He finally moves his hand away from your mouth, as if challenging you to make a sound.

“Sunghoon, fuck.” You cry, in a broken whisper, clenching around him uncontrollably as he tries to hold you still.

“I know baby, I know.” He cooed, savoring the way your legs shaked, pupils blown wide with lust as his pistoned in and out of you so easily.

With his fingers, he continued his assault, working your clit in tight circles as your hips bucked wildly. He groaned, feeling your walls squeezing him, threatening to bring him over the edge.

But he wouldn't cum before you.

Sunghoon’s lips ghosted over your ear, his soft guttural moans shooting straight to your core, “such a pretty mess for me, aren’t you?” his lips curled into a grin as you finally tipped over the edge.

A soft, yet long moan slipped was quickly muffled by his hand as he fucked you through it, your toes curling and thighs quivering.

White hot pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in sheer bliss. But just when it was starting to subside, he was slamming his cock into you.

The sound of his skin meeting yours was like music, and his fingers returned to your clit, sending you spiraling back into ecstasy.

Your weak cries of pleasure only seemed to encourage him more.

Sunghoon moaned, a beautiful sound leaving him as his cock twitched. With a few hard erratic thrusts, he came, filling you up completely, not wasting a single drop.

He groaned softly, riding out your highs before you whimpered at the feeling of him slipping out of you, both panting.

The silence between the two of you was mutual as you caught your breaths. Sunghoon leaned down, sliding your panties back up and pressing a soft kiss on your asscheek.

It was infuriating to admit that, just as good as he was with everything else, he was really good at fucking.

[ikeuwoniee]

I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND, PJS (PART 2)

• SYNOPSIS: A fleeting encounter with Park Jay at a high school party leaves a quiet imprint on your then broken heart. Years later, you find him again, now as an icy guitarist of the campus boy band, HYPHENIX. You never spoke again, but you remembered his eyes, his words, his presence and how he lingered at the back of your mind years after. You wanted to reach for him, but he was so far, popular, untouchable that you decided to pour your heart to him in secret, until the secret was revealed but someone else claimed it before you could.

Or in which you pour your heart into anonymous letters for the cold, distant guitarist, Jay, only to watch your best friend claim every word as her own.

• PAIRING: Park Jongseong (Jay) x afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 20.9k

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, university settings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, shy reader x popular Jay, down bad reader, betrayal, abandonment, miscommunications or lack of communications, profanities, name calling, stereotyping, best friend's boyfriend, reader is nosy and loves other people's business way too much (my twin fr), fear of rejection and unwanted attention, body image issues in the beginning, toxic relationships and friendships, low-key stalker reader, reader wears glasses, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything.

• WARNING TAGS: MDNI, smut, soft dom!Jay, sub!reader, choking, hair pulling, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, reader isn't a virgin but is inexperienced.

PART 1

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second part, I hope you'll like it. Your likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated. Thank you so much for showering my write ups with your love. Happy reading♡♡

Your heels clack sharply against the tiles, still you're moving, pushing away people from your way, almost knocking over drinks that were kept on the counter. By the time you're near the door, he's already walking down the stairs. You turn around briefly to look at Ava's room from where Jay walked out but you were disappointed to see her nowhere in sight. The thought made you angry, if she was going to take what should've been yours she should've at least done it properly. She should've taken care of his heart, she should've at least pretended to care, instead she didn't even make an effort to follow him out. You turned back around, feet barely stable as you ran down the stairs, "Jay, wait!"

His steps don't flatter, his shoulders hunched as he walked towards his car, you increased your pace, because you couldn't see him like this, couldn't watch him walk away from her, away from you, when he doesn't even know the whole truth behind everything that is happening in his life. His steps slow down as he reaches near his car and you extend your hand to grab his arm. "Jay-" your fingers clasp around his jacket, "wait please." And he stops, not because he wanted to but because the voice that rang in his ears is yours and not hers. His shoulders stiffened, then he spun, and suddenly, before you could even react, he crashed into your arms with a force which felt more emotional than physical. His arms circled around your waist tightly as a sob escaped his lips.

You sighed deeply, unable to form words as his body shook in your arms. You held him tightly, one hand cradling his head as he buried his head in your neck. You stayed still, trying to be his anchor when his world was falling apart right in your arms. You could feel his tears slide down your chest from your neck, you rubbed his back in order to console him. After a while his sobs subsided but his hold on you remained tight, not too much to hurt but enough to remind you of their presence on your body, firm enough to know you won't disappear. He pulled away from you, his movements abrupt as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice water on him in the middle of the winter. He took a few steps back, hands grasping the door of his car. He looked at you.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes glassy as he questioned you, his gaze fell behind your figure to see if there's anyone else. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, ears ringing and eyes sensitive, "are you okay?" You saw his bottom lip quiver at your words, his shoulders slumping as if everything around him was weighing him down. "You should be inside, enjoying your night-" "I should. But I couldn't stay when I saw you walk out." The grip he had on the car's door wavered and he let his hand fall. "Why?" He questioned, eyes hazy as steps drifting closer, his hand lifting up to your face, "you seemed to be enjoying yourself on the dance floor though..." he mumbled as he swiped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, hand trembling slightly, "what do you mean?" Your breath shuddered, one hand clasping around his jacket.

"Your lipstick smudged a little," his gaze locked into your lips, "there, all good." You exhaled the breath you were holding when he stepped back, his thumb stained with the lipstick he removed from the corner of your mouth. He turned towards the car and you grabbed his shoulder to hold him back, "Jay, it isn't what it looked like." He faced you, tongue poking inside of his cheek as he scoffed softly, "doesn't matter to me, it's your life anyway," he opened the door and you stepped forward, the hand grabbing his shoulder moving up to rest softly against his face, "don't shut off, you always do this when you're stressed," your thumb brushed against his cheek, wiping the tears that had fell, "and it hurts to watch you lock everything inside you like you're alone in this. Lean on me, talk to me, just don't shut yourself out."

He observed you for a while, unable to find any words that would contradict yours. His eyes fell upon the people coming out of Ava's house and he held your hand, tugging you towards the passenger's seat and quickly running back towards the driver's seat, "I don't want people to misunderstand us, let's talk somewhere else." You turned around in your seat to look at people leaving the party, "you're right..." he looked at you before watching the people through his rearview mirror, "yeah." He started driving, and you couldn't tell where exactly he was trying to take you. He pulled up in an empty parking lot, got out and opened your door for you. He locked the car door and made his way towards the curb and sat on it, hands in his head as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

You slowly made your way towards him, giving him time to calm himself, you sat down beside him, not too far, nor too close. You removed your heels, feet aching with all the running, you put them beside you, hands instinctively holding your ankle to massage it a bit as you waited for Jay to say something. "Are they hurting that bad?" Your eyes found his face but his hands were focused on your leg, you stopped your movements, folding your arms on your knees, "tell me what happened." His eyes finally met yours and he sighed, "we had a fight, and I walked out." You put your head on your knees as you nodded at his words, "I don't like big parties, I'm allergic to chocolate, she knew about this, I wrote those things in the letters I sent back to her and she's trying to make me the crazy one for not appreciating her efforts."

"Jay," you started even though you had no idea what to say. "I don't get it anymore," he sighed as he run his hand through his hair, "those letters mean the world to me, gave me the strength when I almost gave up, they talked about me, not the popular guitarist of HYPHENIX, those letters understood my silences and that's why I fell, that's why I thought I could have something real with Ava." You watch him unravel in front of you and you swallow back the burning feeling igniting in your stomach at his words, "maybe she never expected you to hold those letters so dearly, Jay." He looked at his eyes darkening as the possibility of your words being true settled inside him, "how could I not hold those letters close? They were the foundation of our relationship, the Ava who wrote those letters saw through me when everyone else just expected me to be perfect."

You smiled softly looking down at your hands at his words, "maybe you're trying to hold onto a version of her which only existed in those letters, sometimes people portray a version of themselves which they can't live up to, which leads to disappointment and heartbreak." He nodded at your words feeling confused yet understood, "maybe I am but is that my fault? For believing in it?" You shook your head at its words, laughing slightly, "It's not your fault for believing, its hers for not living up to it, sometimes it's easier to pretend especially if the words are wrapped in kind and comforting words inside an envelope."

"But her kind and comforting words were the exact reason why I fell for her, but now when I try to connect with her, she diverts the topic like it isn't a big deal. For her spotlight is everything, she always gushes about it, but when she wrote me those letters, she never once mentioned about my popularity, her letters rather focused on my musicality," you nodded your head as if you don't remember every single thing you wrote on those letters, like it doesn't hurt to watch him going through so much pain when all you wanted was for him to be happy, "maybe she doesn't know you the way you thought she would. Maybe she wasn't as serious about those letters as you were."

He turned his body towards you fully, eyes narrowing deep in thought, "no one can notice things that deep if they aren't serious about it," you play with the bracelet in your hand nervously, "how am I supposed to find a solution to this?" He sighed as he buried his head on his hands, you contemplated to reach out to him but you did it anyway, your hand slide up to run your finger through his hair, he didn't stop you, "don't force yourself to be somewhere you don't belong, if you feel she's not the person you fell in love with then it's better to break things up." He lifted his head enough to look at you, "It's not that easy," you let your hand fall on your lap, sighing deeply you muttered something which always lingered at the back of your mind, "Jay, don’t build your entire world around someone who can’t hold it for you."

Your eyes fell upon the stars that shone brightly above you, and his eyes were focused on you as those words left his mouth, "I think I might confront her about this whole situation, I really don't like how things are going in between us, we always fight and pretend in front of others that everything is fine. I don't like it." Your mind drifted far off as you watched the night sky, feeling exhausted at the events that unfolded today. You thought Ava would take notice of basic things and at least pretend to care for Jay, but it was clear that all she wanted was popularity rather than a companion. You blame yourself for supporting her reckless choices cause now you're doubting every single thing you did that led you to this moment.

Your lips twitched in discomfort, you knew watching Ava in Jay's arms would be hard but watching him break down in front of you because of her was harder. You wanted to tell him he deserved the kind of love he hoped he'd get from Ava, that it's not wrong to fall for someone and be disappointed when their actions wouldn't match their words. But how would they match when both of you were two different people? You cursed internally, taking a deep breath, if only she never lied, if only you never supported her. God you hated her so much for complicating things. "Jay," his name left your mouth like a confession, he hummed, eyes still trained on your face, "I don't like your girlfriend."

Sunghoon checked the time on his phone, squinting slightly as the sun was up, he knocked on the door, stepped a few steps back and waited, "oh! You're here!" He heard the person at the door say, leaning his weight on one of his legs, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled to instagram. He barely hummed in response, finally looking up, "Where are the gifts?" Ava's smile dropped at his dull tone, "well good morning to you too," she said, rolling her eyes and stepping aside to make way for him. Sunghoon wordlessly put his phone inside his jeans pocket, entering the same house he was in yesterday night, he looked at the surroundings. The house was yet to be cleaned fully, "I'll call some cleaners to help you with the cleaning-" his words were cut off when Ava grabbed his arms, "no, I've got this, though thank you for offering your help, you're such a gentleman Hoon."

Sunghoon gulped, removing her hands from his arm, "it's Sunghoon for you." Ava frowned at his words, pout forming on her face as she glared at him, "but you let her call you Hoon though." He sighed, looking anywhere but her face, "she is allowed to call me that. I allowed her to call me that. I don't recall asking you to call me Hoon." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and Sunghoon stepped back, "you should be close to me not her, I'm your best friend's girlfriend!" He exhaled deeply, already regretting coming to her house, "exactly, my best friend's girlfriend, and your association with Jay doesn't define if you'll get close to me or not, it's actually based on how you are as a person."

Ava scoffed, flicking her hair back as if she couldn't grasp the concept, "she's not even that fun, doesn't do parties, isn't popular, has nothing special about her, she's not interesting....I don't know why you pay so much attention to her!" Sunghoon looked at her, boredom laced on his face but his eyes showed the quiet furry he felt within, "well at least she doesn't back-bitch about her best friend! Maybe we like her better because she's a better person than you'll ever be Avalyn." She flinched at his harsh tone, footsteps retreating, "Sunghoon....don't get close to her please." He scoffed at her, eyes trained on the main door then towards the huge cardboard box placed in the corner labelled 'Jay's gift', "you greedy woman, you're dating my best friend yet you're trying to continue to hit on me?"

He took a few steps towards her, and she backed off, suddenly trembling under his intense gaze, "isn't he enough for you? I thought you stopped being a fucking whore and finally came to your senses, guess I was wrong, huh?" She fell down on the chair behind her, eyes shut closed as Sunghoon's words rang in her ears, "you kept on harassing me to sleep with you, even after I clearly declined, then suddenly my best friend introduced you as his girlfriend to me, you think I'm stupid?" Her lips trembled as she looked up at him, eyes glossy but he continued, "and I know your games Ava, you think I believed you when you said you wrote those letters for Jay? I don't think your pea-sized brain could even comprehend a single sentence written on it. I'm entertaining you just because I care too much about Jay and his feelings to hurt him bluntly by the truth."

"Sunghoon, please don't tell him, I beg you. I really love Jay, I'll take care of him well..." His hand slammed against the wall near him, "you're dating him for quite some time and yet you don't know what things he likes and dislikes and you're telling me you'll take care of him?" Tears fell from her eyes, hands shaking at the possibility of her truth being exposed, "Sunghoon, I'll be a good girlfriend, I'll keep him happy, please I beg you." He just looked at her, walking towards the gift box and picking it up in his arms, "you still try to hit on me subtly and say you'll be a good girlfriend? You think I don't notice your advances? Don't notice how whenever me and your best friend are close you take her away from me? You can't even be a good friend Ava, how will you ever be a good girlfriend? You're just a selfish bitch who only thinks about herself."

Sunghoon turned around towards the door, taking a few long strides to reach his car, he put the gift box in the backseat and shut the door of his car. He opened the door of the driver's seat when Ava grabbed his hand, and turned to face her, "I can ruin your friendship if I want, you know?" She spoke through gritted teeth, hands now clenched in fist by her side, "you think Jay would be by your side if I tell him you tried to take advantage of me?"

Sunghoon blinked at her once, twice, then laughed loud and full, straight from his chest as he threw his head back. He grabbed the hood of his car to keep his balance. He wiped the tears that escaped his eyes as he calmed himself, "I wanted to say something hurtful but your words just made me realize how pitiful you are," Ava frowned at his words, "maybe if you weren’t so selfish and actually knew how to keep real friends, you wouldn't be so quick to throw out threats like this. But go ahead and see if he believes that over someone who has known him better than you ever will." He turned around, sliding into his driver's seat and driving off without giving her a single chance to speak.

Sunghoon parked his car in Jay's parking place, taking notice of Jay's car being parked in its usual spot. He picked up the gift box and made his way towards the main door. He kicked his door, flinching slightly as the door was unlocked so it slammed against the wall. The sound woke Jay up from where he was curled up on his couch in the living room, "what the fuck is up with you?" Jay mumbled although he wanted to lecture his friend about guest etiquette. "Ah close the door for me yeah? As you can see my lord, my hands are full." Sunghoon took off his shoes and invited himself into his best friend's house, keeping his gift box on the coffee table and jumping to sit on the couch.

"Since you weren't replying to your girl, she asked me to pick up your gifts from her house," Sunghoon grumbled reminiscing about the texts after texts he got from Ava which forced him to go and get Jay's gift. Jay just shrugged, still half asleep, rubbing his eyes as he approached Sunghoon, "did you atleast eat something?" Jay nodded at his friend's words, "yeah, I woke up, got fresh, made breakfast and ate it, washed the dishes, then slept again." Jay slumped beside Sunghoon, yawning. "Wow, I expected more sulking and less functioning adult energy from you."

Jay rolled his eyes, sitting up straight to open the box, "why did she call you? Could've waited for me to reply to her back..." Sunghoon looked at Jay, his mind drifting back to Ava's house, "she said her parent's will be home tonight, she needed to get rid of everything before they arrive," Jay nodded, remembering Ava telling him about her parents being very strict about everything. He remembered her telling him that you are her only friend whom her parents trust. "I'll get going, I am having some issues with my keyboard, I'll have it checked." Jay bid him goodbye and made his way back inside the house to open up the gift box.

He took off the gifts inside the box one by one, placing them neatly on the ground or on the coffee table as he emptied the box and folded it to throw it in the trash bin at the back of his house. He folded the cardboard box and made his way towards his backyard, he placed the box near the trash bin and started making his way back towards the house. His footsteps halted when he saw an envelope fallen near the backdoor of his house. He crouched down to pick it up, turning it around to inspect it carefully, 'Dear, Jay.' it read.

His eyebrow furrowed while looking at the envelope, a sense of familiarity growing within his heart as he read the label of the envelope. The handwriting, a huge smile etched upon his face at the familiar scribble of words, though in the letters he received the writer used to call his name a bit differently, he found himself feeling relieved. He made his way inside his room, rummaging through his closet to take out the box where he kept all the letters together. He took out one random letter to compare the handwriting, praying continuously for it to be the same. It had been a while since he saw the handwriting and he laughed at himself for being so excited over a trivial thing.

He grabbed his phone, when he found the handwriting matched, grinning happily even before opening the envelope to see what's inside. After a few rings Ava picked up the phone, her voice shaky as he finally called her back after being ignored for a whole night, "Jay, I'm sorry for yesterday baby, please don't be mad at me, I love you so much." He smiled at her, eyes focused upon the envelope on his hand, "It's okay Ava, I love you too, I just got your gift, thank you so much, baby. You made me so happy you have no idea." She laughed at his excited tone, breathing in relief that Sunghoon didn't share anything with him about what happened at her house, "you loved your gift?" She asked, her voice relaxed now, "yes I did."

"Thank god, Jay. I was stressed if you'd love it or not, I mean it took me days to find that limited edition watch, I'm so glad you loved it. Don't forget to wear it when you come to meet me, okay?" Jay's smile flattered as he focused on Ava's words then back at the envelope in his hand, a watch? His brows twitching in confusion, "did you attach anything else with your gift Ava?" He questioned, inspecting the envelope as if it would answer his questions, "umm just a bow." Jay hummed, his heartbeat frantic, "okay baby, I'll meet you soon." "See you." He hung up the phone, scoffing at himself as he laid back on his bed, the letters and envelope still spread near his legs. He picked up the envelope, sighing as he looked at it.

He dialed Ava's number again, mind swirling with thoughts waiting for her to pick up, "Jay? Did you forget something?" He sighed, putting the phone on speaker and keeping the letters back inside the box, "umm," he wondered, an idea popping in his head, "be ready in 2 hours, wanna spoil you a bit for giving me my birthday gift..." he could hear the excited squeal left leaving from her mouth, "why? You didn't have to, what do you want me to wear?" He chuckled, "wear anything, you look pretty anyway." He hung up the phone before she could speak further.

Jay was getting ready to pick Ava when his phone rang, the called ID showing 'Dikeu' in bold, he chuckled looking at the contact name for Jake, realizing Sunghoon must've changed it when he wasn't looking at his phone, "I'm free, wanna hangout?" Jay's eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on the soft background music playing, "since when did your music taste change?" He could hear Jake chuckle as he turned the music off, "nah, the song is good, but I wasn't the one playing that..." Jay's heartbeat quickened, "who were you with?" Jake blinked once before your name left his lips.

"Oh what was she doing with you?" Jake pouted on the other end of the phone as if Jay could see him, "you aren't even interested in me anymore?" Jay groaned and a chuckle left Jake's mouth, "I dropped her home, our classes ended at the same time. Are you gonna tell me if you're free to hangout or not?" Jay rubbed his temple but replied nonetheless, "I've a date with Ava, I can't hangout today," Jake hummed, thinking on who to irritate next now that Jay was busy, "okay, I'll irritate someone else then!"

Jay leaned on his car as he waited for Ava to come out of her house, "Jay!" He lifted his head, eyes taking in her short satin dress that fit her body perfectly, she smiled at him, one hand stretched out for him to take, he held her hand, pulling her closer to give a quick kiss on her cheek, he guided her towards the passenger's seat and made himself comfortable on the driver's seat. The engine hummed beneath them as Jay scrolled through his playlist. When he found the song, he pressed play and Lee Hi’s Breathe poured softly into the car’s hush. He gave a quick glance towards Ava who didn't even utter a single word about his choice of the song.

"You wanna change the music or is this song fine?" She nodded at him, before he watched her lean towards the screen to play another, more upbeat song, "We are going on a date, I don't think dull songs like that match the vibe." Jay's eyebrows twitched but he didn't press further, just hummed in response and started driving off. After a while, "Jay," Ava called softly as she looked at him, he signaled her to continue, his eyes trained on the road, "I shouldn't have argued with you yesterday, I'm sorry, it was your birthday I should've been more patient," Jay smiled at her, one hand clutching the wheel while other was placed on his own lap.

Ava looked at his expressions before continuing, "It's just that I was so angry, I had to do everything alone since your friends decided to exclude me, even my own best friend didn't tell me about the surprise party. I felt so betrayed, I tried my best but it all crumpled down when I accidentally ordered the wrong cake, I mean, people can make mistakes right? But still, I'm sorry for making you feel like you don't matter to me..." she trailed off realizing Jay had barely acknowledged the words that slipped her lips, "didn't you say that it was the bakery who made the mistake?" Her breath hitched as she clasped both her hands together on her lap, "Isn't that the same thing?" Jay didn't question her further.

He stopped his car near a high end restaurant, handing over his car keys to the valet, he slid his hand on Ava's waist to pull her close. The restaurant was beautiful, with high ceilings and open plan structure so one could enjoy the view of nature around it. Ava gasped, thrilled to be at such a place, she turned around, giving Jay a little kiss before she dragged him towards a spot she wanted to sit. He pulled a chair for her, then made himself comfortable. The waiter handed both of them the menu card and left, but as soon as Ava was about to discuss what she wanted to eat, he stopped her, his smile sickeningly sweet as he looked at her.

"I'll order for you," he said, leaning a bit towards the table, "I remember you writing about your favorite dishes in the letters, I want to be a good boyfriend and prove you that I remember all those things you wrote," Jay held her hand, softly rubbing circles at the back of her hand. She laughed awkwardly, nodding her head with way too much enthusiasm, he looked at her for a second too long, before dropping his gaze back on the menu, "since it's still day time, let's order tea first," He signaled the waiter to take the order, "two chamomile-lavender tea please," the waiter nodded asking if they needed anything else and Jay informed him he'll update further.

"Chamomile-......lavender tea?" Jay grinned at Ava's expressions, "yeah? I never tried drinking that combination but now that you're with me I thought why not? If in case I don't find it pleasing I can just pass it to you since you're so crazy about it." Ava's lips twitched but she managed to mask it behind a polite smile, swallowing a lump from her throat, "I hope you'll like," she trailed off, looking at the view, "I feel so refreshed after drinking it." Jay hummed clearly amused by her ability to still try her best at blending in, "refreshing? Didn't you say the bitterness of this combo helps you stay awake when coffee doesn't do it for you?" She pulled her hand out of his grip and clenched her hands tightly on her lap, "yeah that too."

"Here's your tea," the waiter placed the drinks on the table and Jay looked at Ava expectantly, she smiled at his direction, placing a trembling hand on the cup and take a sip, "I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about drinking it," Ava grimaced at the taste, but masked it with a semi-awkward smile which didn't even reach its full potential, "I am, just feeling tired from yesterday's party." He nodded solemnly at her words and urged her to continue drinking, smiling as he took a sip of the tea himself, "Ah it's too bitter for me," he pushed the tea towards Ava, "please finish this for me too baby." He could see color drain from her face but still acted oblivious, humming a song or complimenting the restaurant's architecture.

Ava finished both the tea, he grinned at her, kissing her hand and complimenting her, "I need to go to the bathroom, one second." He watched as Ava rushed off to the bathroom, leaning back on the chair and sighing. Ava came back, a bit breathless, Jay ordered the food and she sighed in relief that he ordered something she could eat without feeling like throwing up. "You okay baby? You don't look good," Ava sat on her chair, dabbing the sweat off her forehead with tissues, "Yeah, I don't know, I'm feeling suffocated suddenly," Jay watched her, nodding his head, "okay, let's get out of here then." He paid the bill and made their way towards the next destination he had in his mind.

"Baby what's this?" Ava wondered when he stopped the car in an unknown lane, getting out of the car and helping her with it. "You don't recognize? Didn't you say you loved this place?" Ava's heartbeat quickened, eyes wondering on numbers of small shops and stores lining up one after the other. Her eyes took in the surroundings, "haha, yeah. I remember this, it's just that I'm feeling so tired that my brain isn't working." Jay hummed, holding her hand and pulling her inside a bookstore hidden in between two large clothing shops. "It's okay, you said the smell of books calms you down, that's the reason I brought you here." She nodded wordlessly at his words, rubbing her nose slightly at the lavender candle lit at the entrance of the bookstore.

Ava panicked, realizing that Jay planned this whole date based on the letters written by his secret admirer. She could still feel her throat itching even after forcing herself to throw up the tea in the bathroom and if this thing continued she wasn't sure if she would be able to cover up. Jay made his way towards her, hand holding a couple of books which Ava didn't recognize and another holding a lavender scented candle. "Ava? You good baby?" Her nose itched, turning a bit red as she looked at Jay, clearly anxious, "Jay, it's getting late, shall we go back? I'm not feeling good at all, baby." He sighed, placing the candle back on the shelves and paying for the books before agreeing with Ava. She sighed in relief as they made their way back towards the car.

"Baby?" Ava hummed as she looked at the passing cars, "wanna hangout at my place before I drop you off at yours? We don't have to do anything, just cuddle, maybe drink some alcohol if you're up to it? Hm?" He glanced at her, before concentrating back on the road, "okay, sounds good to me." Jay smiled, extending his hand to give her hand a gentle squeeze. When they reached his house, he helped her remove her heels, taking her hand and guiding her towards his bedroom. Ava laughed, nudging Jay a little bit, "Wait here, I'll bring the drink." Ava sat on the bed, looking at his room, "open the sliding door, we'll drink outside, you'd love it."

Ava nodded, opening the door and helping Jay with the drinks. They were in the middle of drinking when the weather became gloomy, dark clouds spreading all throughout the sky, few drops of rain fell upon their clothes and Jay urged Ava to get inside. He bought the drinks and glasses inside, neatly putting the glasses on the sink. Till the time he returned from the kitchen, heavy downpour had blurred the word around them, and in the distance, thunder rolled low and slow. Ava flinched slightly, her hands clutching the comforter, "you okay baby?" She looked up, smiling slightly and he made his way towards her, eyes trained on the rain.

"Yes, just startled." Jay squinted his eyes at her, tilting his head, "thought you said you loved storms, why are you startled?" Ava shrugged, flinching again when lightning struck again, "why would I say that, I hate storms!" He crouched in front of her, his gaze hardening, "isn't that crazy? You said you loved the storms as it made you feel like you aren't the only one who is unraveling. I remember it clearly, you wrote about it, how they make you feel at peace." Ava froze, her eyes widening and body trembling under his fierce gaze, "I was just in a different headspace at that time."

"You always say that Ava, I was in a different headspace, I was feeling poetic, I didn't think you'd think so deeply of it, my opinion changed. It never ends!" Ava stood up, walking towards the bedroom door to create some distance in between them, "I was just trying my best to impress you because I love you, Jay. You're comparing me to a version of myself I curated just for you." Jay followed her, breath ragging, "are you sure that's the truth?" Ava paused, hesitating to say another word, "what do you mean?" she mumbled, leaning against the door.

"I just think, Avalyn," He taunted, voice low and dangerously calm, "I think you saw someone laying their heart bare, you saw how everyone noticed, you saw something genuine, which you could never be, and instead of respecting it like everyone else, you dressed yourself in someone else's devotion and had the audacity to call it yours!" He took a step closer, eyes burning through her, he slammed one hand on the door beside her head, "you saw someone bleed their love on the paper and got greedy. You never wanted love, just attention, and you didn’t care whose heart you had to break just to get what you wanted."

Ava looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes, she pushed Jay away, scoffing in disbelief, "you really think I would do something like that? After everything I've done for you? God! I knew this would happen, you just want a reason to get rid of me now that you're bored." Jay's jaw clenched at her words, "I'm sorry I didn't live up to your fantasy Jay, sorry that I couldn't talk in ink and metaphors for you." Jay pushed her against the door, eyes narrowing at her words, "it isn't about ink and metaphors, it's about the meaning behind them, you claimed those thoughts were yours, you silenced someone Avalyn, you banned someone from loving me the only way they knew how." Ava's jaw clenched but she kept quiet, unable to say anything in her defense with the way Jay was looking at her.

"Here's what you're going to do now Avalyn," he started, stepping back and glaring at her, his tone calm and calculated, "in few weeks it's your birthday, you're going to tell everyone there that you lied about those letters, and I'll tell them I don't hold any grudge against you so that we can both part ways without creating anymore mess." Ava's eyes widened at his words, all the things she did to gain the popularity wilting away in front of her eyes, "please Jay? Can't you give me a chance? We were doing fine, we can continue to do that. If the person who sent those letters to you loved you enough she would have exposed me long ago, but she didn't right? Please Jay, I beg you." Jay rubbed his temple, groaning as he threw his head back in frustration, "no, just do as I say, in a few weeks, at your birthday party, tell everyone the truth, and we're done for!"

You heave a sigh as you stand, leaning on one of the pillars of your university campus, looking at the downpour. It had been raining since yesterday night and hasn't stopped since then. Most of the students had either left the campus or found home in some corner or the university where they could wait till the downpour was light enough to travel through. You heard someone call your name, you turned slightly, smiling when you found Heeseung wave at you. "Done with your class?" You questioned, your eyes falling on your mobile screen to see if Ava responded to your texts or calls. "Yes, I wanted to go home but the rain is so heavy, you can't even see what's in front of you." You offered him a quick nod, eyes trained on the rainfall, but your mind drifted towards something else. Ava didn't attend any classes today, which was completely normal but what irked you most was her skipping the cheer practice. Her friends had stopped you to ask about her whereabouts and the only thing you could do was shrug in response.

"Yah, both of you," you jumped a little at the sudden voice, Heeseung chuckled before turning around to face his friend, Jake, "are you just going to stand there and watch the rain? Might as well come inside the music room and chill." You and Heeseung made your way inside the music room, you walked towards the window, dragging a chair with you, and sat on it, sighing. "I don't think the rain is going to stop anytime soon...." Sunghoon's voice trailed off as he spotted your figure sitting near the window as he walked inside the music room while talking to Jay. "Looks like someone loves rain way too much," Sunghoon smirked as he dragged a desk near your chair and sat on it, startling you in the process.

Jay quietly made his way towards the couch, slumping against it as he watched you interact with Sunghoon, a weird knot forming in his chest as he remembered you and Sunghoon sharing a kiss right in the middle of his birthday party. He kept wondering why he would feel so jealous in the first place, it wasn't like any of you were betraying him but he couldn't help but feel weirdly hurt whenever he saw both of you together. He was sure that if he kept on glaring at both of you with the same intensity then he'd actually be able to punch a hole in Sunghoon's face.

"Jay, did you bring your car?" Heeseung's voice brought him back to reality, his eyes looked around the room to see everyone already looking at him, he blinked a few times before nodding his head yes. Heeseung eyed him skeptically before nodding his head at his words, "so, Sunghoon, Jake and I slept over my house yesterday so we just took my car to come here," Jay nodded, hands playing with the ripped part of his jeans, "yeah so I need to take these two back to my house to retrieve their cars which is in complete opposite direction to where she lives," he pointed his index finger at you and you glared at him, "so will you drop her off?" Jay's eyes met yours, you smiled a little and he nodded, "ofcourse, I would. It shouldn't be a question."

And now you were sitting inside Jay's car as he pulled out of the university's campus. You leaned your head against the window, trying your best to not steal glances at Jay. You noticed he looked tired than usual, like he didn't get any sleep last night and with the way Ava had completely shut you out today, something must've happened between them again. You remember Jake texting you yesterday to ask if you were free to hangout, you had planned on deep cleaning your apartment that day so you declined and he told you Jay was busy taking Ava on date, you figured they mended the things between them but guess you were perhaps wrong.

You were busy with your thoughts when Jay's phone rang, he pulled his car aside and stopped, picking up the phone. You looked at him briefly as he was busy talking with someone on the phone. After sometime he hung up, giving you a side smile, "give me a few minutes, I just need to send this location to my cousin." You nodded, taking out your own phone to scroll through instagram when a loud thunder roared through the sky, your eyes widened at the sound, "damn, that was loud," you couldn't help but say as you leaned towards the windshield to look at the sky. Jay looked at you, surprised as you finally spoke something. "Scared of storms?" He questioned, giving you a quick glance before resuming his task, "no, I'm not. Just amazed by the intensity."

He locked his phone screen, throwing it somewhere in the compartment, the sound of thunder immediately sent his brain in a flashback mode, his mind drifting to the events that unfolded the previous night. He then turned his eyes on your figure which was still leaning towards the windshield, hands placed on the glass to wipe the condensation and see the view clearly. "You seem quite fascinated by the view," he couldn't help but chuckle at your wonder-like expressions, "oh I love storms, it brings me peace! I could sit and observe it all day!" Jay's smile flattered at your words, chest tightening at the familiarity of the words. He quickly swallowed the tension building in his throat and started driving towards your apartment.

You reached your apartment building, the thunder still loud above you, even the trees hazardly swayed left and right, and you could barely manage to stand still without struggling a bit against the wind. You knocked on the window of Jay's car and waited for him to roll it down. "I think it will be better if you wait for the weather to calm down a bit," you suggested. He shook his head, turning around his seat to look at the scenario out of the parking space of your building, "I think I can manage-" His words got cut off when a large tree branch flew past both of your line of vision, ripped from the tree like it was nothing, "yeah I think I can wait for a little bit." You smiled at him, stepping back and moving towards the elevator to press your floor button. Jay joined you inside the elevator and you sighed waiting for it to reach your floor.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea? Hot Coffee?" Jay paused to think, fingers tapping against his chin in deep thought as he sat on your couch, "what type of tea do you have?" You smiled bashfully, leaning against your kitchen door, "Mr. Park, what type would you like to drink? Your wish would be my command." He laughed at your words, "do you have chamomile tea?" You nodded your head in enthusiasm which Jay couldn't help but reciprocate, "I have all the types of tea, I sort of have a weird fixation on it." He smirked, getting up from the couch and following you inside the kitchen. He leaned against the kitchen counter, humming softly as he watched you gather the ingredients to make the tea. "Wow, you indeed have a crazy collection of tea."

You grinned back at him, opening the cabinet wider for him to get a better look, he stepped closer, hands raking his fingers through the jars. "Damn, you could open a tea stall," you solemnly nodded as if actually considering his suggestion. "What tea is your favorite? Taking a look at the jars I would say..." he trailed off, looking through the jars, "black, chamomile and lavender tea are your top picks." You gave him a thumbs up, taking the chamomile tea's jar off the cabinet and shutting it close. He made himself comfortable on the chair against the kitchen counter as he watched you make the tea, comfortable silence settled between them, the only sound being gentle clatter of cups, and soft bubbling of the water.

You poured the tea into two cups and slide one in front of him as you sat beside him, he smelled the tea, "oh it smells calming..." you grinned, taking a whiff of the tea yourself, "the weather is so beautiful, and the chamomile tea just made it more perfect, but do you want honey added into yours? I like to drink it bitter, I have to submit an essay tomorrow so I need to stay awake..." you mindlessly trailed off searching the cabinets for the bottle of honey, not realizing the weight of your words, mind temporarily forgetting about you mentioning about it in one of the letters. Jay felt a sense of deja vu take over inside him yet again but before he could say a single word to you the doorbell rang.

You put the bottle of honey in front of him, wondering who would visit you at this time. You made your way towards the living room and looked at the window at the end of the hallway, the weather had calmed down significantly. You opened the door, swinging it open to see Ava standing in front of you, she huffed a breath, "I've been ringing your doorbell since forever," she rolled her eyes, stepping forward and pushing your figure aside slightly since you didn't move an inch. "I've been trying to reach you since last night and you ignored me, and now you randomly showed up at my apartment without replying or calling me back?" You complained as you followed her figure back into your living room.

"Do I need to always inform you about my whereabouts or something?" She hissed, sitting on your couch rather harshly, "my mood is so off, my life is about to turn upside down and you only care about me ghosting you?" You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning your weight on one of your legs, "well yes since I texted and called you to ask about those exact things Ava!" You saw Jay slowly making his way towards the living room from your peripheral vision, he stood just near the kitchen door, Ava's back against his. "You should have tried harder to reach me, you could've skipped classes and visited me home, I even missed my cheer practice for God's sake!" You nervously glanced at Jay before speaking, "you know I had an important exam today, I told you about it ages ago, and it was raining so heavily how do you expect me to visit you?"

"I don't care, you should be beside me when I shut you out, shouldn't you as my best friend seek me when I pull away from everyone?" She complained, hands pulling at her head. "Well she tried reaching out to you through texts and calls, what more do you want her to do when there's a storm going on and she doesn't have any vehicle?" Ava sat up straight, eyes going wide as Jay stood beside you, "Jay? What are you doing here?" Her gaze travelled in between you and him, wondering how he had time to be at your apartment when he didn't reply to even a single text from her. "That shouldn't be your main focus, is this how you always talk with her?" You grabbed his arm when he stepped closer to her, his jaw clenched, Ava's gaze landed on your hand on Jay's arm, you released your hold when he stopped his steps.

"Answer me!" You flinched at the tone of his voice, Ava swallowed, clenching her fist tightly, "no, I'm not thinking straight and wanted to seek solace in my best friend especially after what happened last night!" Jay scoffed, pinching his nose in annoyance, "this isn't how you seek solace in someone..." Ava slammed her head against the back of the couch, clearly not prepared for Jay's interrogation, "I'm sorry, what are you doing here anyway?" Jay shrugged, turning towards you, "I think I should get going, the weather is calm enough for me to drive back, thanks for the tea." You nodded at him, bidding him goodbye and closing the door behind him, confusion etched upon your face.

"How come my boyfriend was in your apartment?" You turned around to look at Ava who was already on her feet, making her way towards the kitchen. You followed her to find her standing near the kitchen counter, taking a sip of tea from your cup. She instantly spit it out in the sink, throwing the rest of the tea along with it. "I didn't even take a single sip!" You groaned as you approached her, "since when do you drink this shit?" You squint your eyes at her words, her face contouring into that of a grimace, "what do you mean since when? You should know I prefer drinking tea to calm myself." Ava stopped midway, your words dawning heavy on her shoulder as she remembered what Jay said about drinking chamomile-lavender tea. She shook her head, making her way back into your living room.

"What happened to you anyway? Are you guys fighting or something? He didn't even say goodbye to you," you sat beside her, keeping your head on the back of the couch. "He found out I didn't write those letters..." she trailed off, her fingernails digging at her skin, "what?" You straightened up, eyes going wide at the realization, "how?" She scoffed, slumping against the armrest, "I didn't even get to bask in my popularity that much, how am I supposed to explain this to my other friends and cheer team?" You rubbed your temple, feeling anxious, "is that what you're worried about?" Ava rolled her eyes, "he wants me to confess about lying in my birthday party."

"What?" Ava sat up, looking straight into your eyes, no guilt about what she did, "he said something about confessing that I lied and then he wouldn't make a big deal out of this and then we can part ways," you looked at her for a moment, taking in all the things she dumped into you in a span of 5 minutes, "I warned you about this, but you didn't listen, just apologize to him, tell him you want to silently part ways, maybe if you look sorry enough he'll forgive you." She threw her hand in the air, "no he won't make this any easier, he was quite angry." You sighed, "well of course he is, you literally lied your way into the relationship, he must be feeling so betrayed and hurt, I told you not to do that, why do you have to be so selfish Ava?"

"Oh you two seem to be so deeply connected with each other to always defend each other's feelings in front of me, who's best friend are you? Try to think of something!" You shook your head at her, completely declining to be the one to help her after what she did, "you are going to do what he said, that's the only way you can get him to forgive you." She groaned, slamming her head against the armrest in frustration, "you aren't helping me with this," she got up, gathering all of her belongings and slamming the door shut behind her when she left. You thought about reaching out to Jay, your fingers hovering just long enough to feel the weight of the choice. But doubt slipped in quietly. What if he thought less of you too? What if saying it out loud only pushed him further away? You didn’t have the answers and maybe, deep down, you weren’t sure you were ready to hear them from him.

You were sitting on the bleachers, the court empty aside from a few students lounging around the area, "why do I always find you as if you're in mid-philosophical mental breakdown?" You tilt your head upward, removing the headphones from your ears, "I don't know Heeseung, you tell me." You saw him playfully roll his eyes as he sat down next to you. Jay, Jake and Sunghoon join right after with Jay sitting on your other side, Jake and Sunghoon sitting in front of you. "Why are you guys here anyway? Don't you guys have practice or something?" Jake gasped, an offended expression forming on his face, "why do you hate us so much? Are we not cool enough to hang out with you?"

"Stop with that 'too cool for you to hangout with' joke, you're stretching it so far up it's gonna explode," Sunghoon laughed at your expressions, "I did not think of you as a violent type pretty." You opened your mouth to retaliate but nothing came out, you just looked at him, trying to ease the rapid beating of your heart after hearing him call you pretty. After the kiss, Sunghoon didn't pressure you to explain anything to him, didn’t even ignore you but he stopped calling you pretty, your own name sounding so foreign when it left his mouth, you thought with time you'd get used to it but there he was, once again with that silly smirk of his, calling you pretty.

"Oh how blessed do we have to be to find HYPHENIX sitting here!" All of your head turned towards the voice, the captain of the cheer team, Gyuri smiled, behind her stood Ava along with a few other members of the cheer squad. "We were just leaving," Jake announced, already standing up, "why would you do that? Ava, does your boyfriend's friend hate us?" She pouted, eyes trained on Jake who just rolled his eyes in annoyance, a complete 180° from how he teased you a few minutes ago. You wondered if both of them had any history, Sunghoon didn't even glance at them after initially looking to see who called their name, Heeseung pretended to be busy on his phone. "It's not like that Gyuri," Ava mumbled looking down.

Gyuri scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest, "It's Ava's birthday next week, I'm pretty sure I'll meet all of you there, right? It's going to be so much fun, everyone's going to be there." Jay nodded, not really looking towards Ava or even trying to have any sort of interaction with her, Gyuri noticed, she turned her head towards Ava, "did you two fight or something, you guys were fine just a few weeks ago!" Ava smiled awkwardly, making her way towards Jay, sitting beside him and leaning against his arm, "it's lovers quarrel, nothing we can't work upon." Gyuri looked at her skeptically before shrugging off and turning around and leaving.

Other three boys exchanged a look, clearly sensing the tension between Jay and Ava, they looked at you and you just smiled, clutching your notebook hard in your hands, they didn't press further. "What are you guys up to?" Ava questioned, her eyes trailing towards a few students who were looking in her direction as she sat with you and the boys, "nothing, just hanging around," Jake shrugged taking a seat. Eventually Ava sat awkwardly beside Sunghoon, and right in front of Jay after realizing he didn't tell his friends about them. She watched as Jay refused to acknowledge her presence at all and Jake and Heeseung exchanged glances at each other from time to time.

You were somehow also ignoring her presence, focusing on the reels on your phone rather than starting a conversation and Ava thinks it's maybe because she rudely left your apartment a week back and you haven't reached out to her after that. "You were going to send me a video of the recipe you saved to make that tea, you haven't sent it to me yet." Jay spoke, nudging your shoulder with his and you gave him an apologetic smile before copying the link of the video and sending it to him. Ava's eyes watched you both like a hawk, eyes narrowing at the newfound closeness in between you two. She gulped, feeling as if the perfect world she tried so hard to build was crumbling down the more she tried to save it.

"Oh shit, I forgot I had a seminar to attend, I should get going," you hurriedly zipped your bag and checked the time, cursing under your breath and running off towards the hall where the seminar would take place. "Oh she dropped her notebook," Sunghoon leaned down the grab the notebook which fell down from your lap, dusting it off, he opened the first page to look, "Give it to me, I'll pass it to her," Sunghoon turned his head towards Ava, eyes sharp and unmoving as he passed your notebook towards Jay instead. Ava sighed, eyebrows twitching at everyone's distant behavior, sure they took less liking for her somehow, even Heeseung and Jake, just acknowledged her as their bandmate's girlfriend but somehow each of them had soften themselves for you and she didn't like how you were getting more attention than she could.

"You're sure everything is alright between you two?" Gyuri questioned Ava as they stood in the locker room changing their clothes after finishing practicing, Ava gulped not maintaining eye contact with her caption as she hurried to put her things inside the bag, "you know you're only in the cheer squad because of Jay right? Since you bought so much attention towards our team after your whole secret admirer agenda?" Ava nodded, zipping up her bag, Gyuri held her shoulder, forcing Ava to face her, "try to mend things in between you both, if you were good enough with your talent alone, you wouldn’t have to enter the team through popularity, I hope you remember all the times you got rejected by different people from the team okay? But now that you finally made it into the team, try to maintain your spot."

"Yes, we are doing fine, Gyuri, we just need a little bit of space, that's it. Everything will go back to normal." Gyuri gave her a skeptical looks, not buying her reasoning at all, "you used to write all those letters to him which made him turn from icy to soft, he looked so smitten by you initially, I don't know what you did, but try to handle it properly, don't be a disappointment, I already get yelled at by our coach for allowing you in the team with the amount of mistakes you do, but I let him drag me since I know you bring attention to the team, don't do anything stupid to further taint my name, Ava." Ava sighed, leaning her head on the locker after Gyuri left. There was so much pressure on her head, she didn't know how she would even handle that.

Ava left the locker room, her feet dragging towards the main gate of the university. Her steps halted as she saw you standing few feet apart from her, you gaze trained on your phone as you sat on the stairs by the entrance of the university's building. She contemplated reaching out to you, her texts and calls left unattended since weeks, you wouldn't entertain her now, but this wasn't the time to whine over things like that, she needed your help to get out of the mess she had made, just like how you always did. Ava took a deep breath, deciding that apologizing to you and asking for your help would be the best case scenario for now, she could always deal with your attitude problem after this mess is solved. She took a step towards you but stopped when she spot Jay walking out of the music room, guitar case hanging off his shoulder and eyes turning ever so soft as they landed on you.

"I didn't think you'd still be here, your classes ended early today," He said, dropping his guitar case gently beside him, his voice casual but his eyes said otherwise. You hummed, smirking at him, "oh so you keep a tab on my schedule now?" Jay shrugged, smiling too wide for someone just having a casual conversation with a friend, "I need to look after you." You squint your eyes at him, elbowing his stomach, "I don't need anyone to look after me," Jay groaned as if your little nudge to his stomach actually hurt, "I know you don't need to be looked after, but I want to." He scooted closer to you, elbows pressing together, knees touching, you didn't move away. "Why do you always do that?" Jay questioned after sometime, "do what?" He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, thumb rubbing against your earlobe a little too long.

"You never properly hold eye contact with me." You blinked, caught off guard by his observation, Jay's gaze softened like he wanted to ask something more than that, you didn't notice the way Jay looked at you but Ava did. She stood there frozen, clutching her phone in her hand tightly, she noticed everything, the way Jay would always listen to your words attentively, how he had this soft smile on his face whenever he talked with you, how his eyes always found you despite being surrounded by a large crowd, Ava noticed everything. And as you packed your things and Jay snatched the bag from your hand and carried it on his shoulder instead, as you both walked off towards Jay's car blissfully unaware of Ava's presence, she realized, in that moment, that you weren't invisible anymore. And she hated it.

Your eyes were trained on the birthday invite sent by Ava on your phone. You both haven't talked with each other after she stormed out of your apartment, it wasn't the first time she did that, neither will it be the last time but you were done trying to save your friendship. You always apologize for things you didn't do just to protect your friendship but you couldn't let her do that repeatedly, you were done with her toxicity. But still your mind keeps on drifting towards how she'll manage to confess about her lying, if she'll be able to handle people throwing taunts at her. You didn't have to, but you felt bad for her. You looked at the following text she sent after sending the invite, 'I know we aren't on good terms but your presence would mean so much to me, especially for what I am going to do today, I will think of it as a last birthday gift from you.' You sighed, locking your phone and stood up to get ready for the party.

"Wow she really went all out for the party," Jake chuckled in amusement after he reached Ava's house, "I know right, I heard she invited more than half of the campus..." Heeseung trailed off, Sunghoon looked at Jay who had his jaw clenched as he looked at the scene in front of him, "you good bro?" Jay tore his eyes from the house and looked at Sunghoon, "It's weird, why would she invite so many people to a party where she's going to announce our breakup?" A loud gasp escaped Jake's mouth, "she's going to announce about your breakup?" Jay nodded looking at them, "she lied about those letters, they were never written by her."

"What? How did you even find that out?" Jay sighed watching his friends look at him with worried eyes, "I always felt disconnected from her, I started questioning her more about the letters but it would end up with us fighting and long story short, she confessed about her lies. I told her to tell everyone about her lies on her birthday when everyone will be present there and I will make sure no one will harass her over it and that we could part ways in peace after that." Heeseung nodded, still a bit shocked at how everything turned out, "if that's the case then it is indeed weird for her to go all out with the party."

"Let's just hope she isn't trying to pull any new stunts then," Sunghoon huffed looking at his friends, hands resting on his hips, "if she can steal someone else's identity for her greed, let's not think she is incapable of doing something mundane again." Rest of them nodded their heads, exchanging a look of wariness before making their way inside the house. Sunghoon stopped Jay from going away, one hand clutching his friend's shoulder, "Jay, I never got good vibes from Ava, don't let her get inside your head, be prepared for whatever okay? She's crazy enough. All you need is to look at me and I'll be there to help you." Jay smiled, nodding his head and assuring Sunghoon.

The party was in full swing, people were dancing around, some were already passed out on the couch, each corner of the house was crammed with people. The room smelled like sweat, alcohol and too many perfumes. Whenever you tried to move, your shoulders would brush against someone. The lights were dim but somehow harsh enough to make you squint. You had previously spotted Ava talking with her cheer squad, and called her aside to greet, give her the gift and go back into your apartment, but she stopped you, requesting you to wait since someone else called her name. Now you were standing beside the alcohol section, near the entrance of her house, waiting for an opportunity to find her alone and get done with it.

"Pretty," you didn't need to turn around to see who called you, his presence, his voice, the way you could feel his body heat on your back was enough for you to confirm who it was, "you're waiting for someone?" You nodded your head but didn't make any effort to change your position, eyes still trained on Ava who was now in the middle of celebrating her birthday. Jay stood beside her, his expressions hard as she cut her cake. She offered the piece of cake to Jay to which he just took it from her hand and fed her instead. The crowd cheered, their screams almost overpowering the music blasting through the speakers.

Then Ava signaled the DJ to pause the music, and the crowd quieted down, everyone gathered around Ava, who stood on the mini-stage along with Jay and some of her friends from the cheer team. Your heartbeat quickened but you felt a gentle squeeze on your shoulder, you looked up and Sunghoon gave you yet another squeeze of reassurance, you smiled at his gesture, a silent thank you, then you trained your eyes back on Ava, who was now looking at everyone with an anxious expression on her face as she announced she wanted to confess something to everyone. You swallowed, crossing your arms across your chest as you waited for her to continue. Jay stood beside her, eyes dark and intense but they softened slightly as he looked at you, your smile was enough to tell him you knew what was going to happen and he heaved a sigh, waiting for Ava to start speaking again.

"Thank you so much for attending my birthday and making it so much special for me," Ava smiled looking at everyone, "I am sure I won't be able to forget this birthday ever." Choruses of oohhs and aahhs spread all throughout the house, Ava shook her head, "I just want to confess something to you guys.....I've been holding it in for a while now." Everyone looked at each other, waiting for Ava to elaborate further, you watched as she looked back at Jay for a minute before her gaze turned back towards the crowd. You held your breath, anxious feelings creeping up on you as you waited for her to continue. "Everything is alright Ava?" Gyuri came forward, the rest of the crowd humming in agreement. She smiled at her, nodding her head, "I will be Gyuri." Sunghoon scoffed at her words as he leaned down towards you, "Oscar season came early huh?" You shivered as his breath hit your ears, a chuckle left his mouth watching her act.

"I feel like everyone deserves to know the truth about what's going on," you froze in your place when she stood beside Jay but her eyes locked in with yours. "The two people I trusted the most went behind my back," Ava's voice trembled as she looked at Jay, "he cheated on me," she exclaimed, pointing directly to you, "with her, my very own best friend." A ripple of gasp fluttered around the house, people glanced in your direction, whispering to each other low and biting. Tears welled up in your eyes, throat closing in, making it hard for you to defend yourself as you watched everyone look at you as if being in your vicinity made them impure.

"I trusted them, both of them but they intentionally chose to betray me like I was nothing." Your chest tightened as Ava continued her sob story of how you betrayed her, people around you started calling you names, whispers of you being a homewrecker, a whore, an attention seeking good for nothing slut, a nobody with a pretty best friend, a jealous bitch who couldn't watch her friend be happy. You shut your eyes, covering your ears with humiliation. "Avalyn!" Jay approached her, his tone dangerously even, "what the hell are you talking about?"

Sunghoon sighed as three of them made their way towards the stage where Ava and Jay were standing. Everyone's attention was fixed on the three band members who now stood at the foot of the stage as they watched the scene in front of them. Ava laughed bitterly, nose and cheeks red, and eyes glassy with unshed tears, "why are you acting innocent, I'm surely not the only one who noticed you pulling away from me, you didn't even sit next to me in cafeteria anymore, instead you were always around her, talking in whispers, about anything and everything, you think I wouldn't notice? You thought no one would believe the truth just because you're popular?"

"Oh I know you're not the one talking about popularity Ava!" All eyes turned towards Sunghoon who stepped up on the stage, eyes burning into Ava's, "you claimed to be the person who wrote those anonymous letters to Jay, you lied to everyone just so you could date Jay and get attention," everyone turned quiet, watching Sunghoon behave so rudely for the first time. Some of them turned towards you, trying to puzzle the pieces together. Jay stepped forward, grabbing Ava's arm to make her face him, "you lied to me, took advantage of someone else's words of love and used it for your selfish reasons and I pulled away from you when I caught your lie." Ava's eyes scanned everyone's face, lips trembling as she could feel everyone doubting her words, then her eyes fell upon you, her eyes darkening with anger, again.

"You're just deflecting because I caught you cheating!" She yanked her arm off his grasp, stepping back a little, "no! I'm clearing my name, if I was someone who treated relationships as casual, I would've dated countless girls and not waited for the right one!" The crowd started murmuring, words of agreement spread throughout as they realized the honesty Jay's words held, they never saw him entertain any girls before. Ava's breathing grows uneven when the room remains silent, no sympathy in their eyes, just observing, watching the drama unfold. "Are you done with your lies now? I told you we could part ways peacefully if you just confess about lying and come clean but you decided to drag me and your best friend through the mud just so you could have an upper hand."

Ava stepped closer to him, voice low but filled with venom, "you're really painting me as a villain because I claimed something that wasn't mine?" Jay stood there, his posture stiff and jaw clenched as Ava wasn't giving up, "you lied, Ava." She scoffed, tears clinging to her lashes, "but you believed me without a second thought Jay, and you believed me because you were desperate to be loved and I did just that, so how am I the villain?" You stepped back, unable to keep yourself together, the room felt too suffocating, you turned around towards the door trying to get out of the situation, to where? You didn't know, you just needed to get out of there. People watched as she spiraled more and more, concern spreading throughout the room, "and don't defend her like she needs to be saved," her voice lowered enough only Jay could hear, "she knew."

Slow smirk forming on her face, "She knew the whole truth but she chose to stay quiet." Jay froze, heart stopping at the cruel revelation, "you're lying..." but the look on Ava's face was enough for Jay to realize she wasn't lying this time. "She knew from the beginning, she watched me take the credit for those letters, watched you fall for them, and still chose to say nothing. So how are we different now?" Jay's eyes scan your figure amongst the crowd, like looking for you would give him some answers. Jay could barely hear a word coming from Ava's mouth, he felt his chest tightened, with disappointment? Betrayal? Or something else entirely? He wasn't sure.

Sunghoon leaned closer to Jay, informing him about you leaving the house. He pushed Jay down the stage so he would follow you. It took some time for him to snap out of everything and his feet started moving before his mind could catch up. Ava stood still, eyes trained on the way the crowd watched Jay run towards the door. Ava's figure trembled with anger, but underneath all the fury there was fear. Because she could see the closeness you and Jay shared couldn't be erased, not even now, now even after her lies were laid bare in front of everyone. Her feet moved, she couldn't let this moment be the one responsible for her downfall, Sunghoon grabbed her hand, pulling her back harshly, "we aren't done with you Ava," He looked back, Jake and Heeseung joining him as they cornered Ava, "can’t really let you walk away without leaving a scar for what you did to our best friend, now can we?"

Sunghoon turned towards the door, watching Jay run off towards the direction he gave him, Jay stopped when he reached the door, turning around to find himself locking eyes with Sunghoon who was holding Ava back from following him. Jay waited for him to say something, but Sunghoon just smiled, nodding his head at Jay and ushering him to follow you. Jay's lips trembled but he nodded back, turning around with newfound determination to find you. He walked down the stairs, looking around to see if he could catch a single glimpse of you, he ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the neat style he previously did. He swallowed hard, taking deep breaths, when he spotted something sparkling around the corner of the block. He ran towards that direction, praying and hoping you'd still be there.

You were walking down the sidewalk, mind too clouded and eyes too hazy to hear footsteps edging closer. You felt someone grab your hand and yank you back, then you heard the faintest whisper of your name, the voice slightly laboured, out of breath. A shiver ran down your spine at the sight of him, not expecting him to follow you out, you wanted to say something, anything but the look in his eyes, the way his lips trembled as he looked at you, the way his jaw was clenched as if he was holding something back, stopped you to saying anything further. For a moment he just looked at you, at your reddened eyes and tears stricken face but all it did was take him back a few moments ago when Ava told him the truth.

"You knew," he stated, his voice low and laced with something too broken to name, "Avalyn told me you knew she didn't write those letter, and you never told me..." your heart cracked at the slight crack in his voice as he talked, you opened your mouth but no words came out. He removed his hand from you, stepping closer till your toes touch, "all this time," he laughed bitterly, blinking a couple of times to wash away the tears that threatened to fall, "you watched me believe her, fall for a fake version of her, I trusted her, I trusted you, you're the only person with whom I shared the struggles of my relationship with, about how the letters made me feel seen, about how your best friend wasn't living up to it and you just let me?"

His words cut through you like a knife, you swallowed hard, throat dry, "it wasn't my place-" "wasn't your place?" He spat, eyes burning with betrayal and underlying heartbreak, "I thought you were my friend." Your head hung low, tears slipping down your cheeks, ashamed that you let everything spiral to this, "I'm your friend," your voice cracked, hands clenching into fist, you couldn't bring yourself to look at Jay, too guilty to feel worthy enough to do so. He shook his head as he watched you trembling in front of him, his hands itched to just pull you closer and hug you till it all started making sense. But he just shook his head instead.

The silence stretched for too long, none of you moved, your mind was swirling with hundreds of reasons you could give in order to justify your actions to him but none of them felt worthy enough to say out loud. Jay's hand trembled as they cupped your face, he placed his thumbs below your chin to tilt your face upward, "do you know how humiliating it was to find out that the entire foundation of my relationship was fake? That the girl who confessed about writing letters to me just played with my heart to get a few people to glance her way?" He wiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks, and leaned his forehead against yours, "and you? You let me believe in all of those things, you watched me make a fool of myself and didn't feel I'm worthy enough to know the truth."

Your breath hitched, hands reaching up to curl around his jacket to ground yourself, "I didn't want to hurt you Jay." He brushed his nose against you then stepped back, eyes red, hair disheveled as he narrowed his eyes at you, "isn't it too late to say that?" You closed your eyes as a choked sob escaped from your mouth, you couldn't even look at him without feeling the need to rip your heart apart. He was hurting, and he was hurting because of you. He studied you for a moment, even though every fibre of his body told him to just reach out to you, he took another step back, "I just," he ran his hand through his hair, visibly overwhelmed, "I don't know who I can trust anymore."

You opened your eyes at his words, "Jay," you started but he backed away even though you stayed glued in your spot, "wait here. Sunghoon will come and drop you off." And you watched him turn around and walk back towards Ava's house. You could see the weight of the betrayal, the disappointment, the truth weighing on his shoulders as he walked away and you stood there, watching the boy you love unraveling and breaking right in front of you. After a while, Sunghoon's car pulled up beside you and he got off, running towards where you stood, your arms circled around his waist, tears streaming down your face and sipping into his shirt. He held you close, rubbing your back to console you. The drive towards your apartment was silent, he glanced at you from time to time to check if you were doing fine. You bid him goodbye, assuring him that you'll call him if it felt too suffocating. He kissed your forehead, and pulled out of your building.

Jay was laid wide awake in his bedroom, still wearing the same clothes from the party, now slightly crumpled and disheveled. He blinked at the ceilings, recalling back to everything that led him to this moment. It felt surreal, the anonymous letters, the lie, the hope he had, the connection he shared with you, your lie, and the moment it all crashed down. He rubbed his face, groaning in his hands for being so stupid, he blamed himself for not verifying Ava's claim, for trusting her blindly. He wondered how his life would've been if he never received those letters, if he never let himself believe that someone was out there loving him the way he didn't know he needed. Maybe he got selfish after reading those letters.

He wondered how the person who originally wrote the letters must've felt after learning Ava claimed the letters as hers, about why that person never came forward to expose her lie, then his thoughts drifted to you. He still remembered the way his heart dropped when Ava told him you knew the truth all along, how even after knowing you deliberately chose to lie his heart still ached for you. How watching you crying in front of him felt like thousands of glass pieces pierced his skin, all at once. How one teary look from your eyes was enough for him to get on his knees for you. And it all confused him to no extent, he was sure he loved the person who wrote him the letters and he knew there was no one else who could see him the way they did, or make him feel the way their words did.

But now here he was, drowning in your thoughts, realization dawning upon him that even if you somehow decided to stab him with a knife, he would happily help you by placing it in the middle of his heart. That he somehow managed to fall in love with you so hard that he isn't sure what to do with his feelings. He knew he should've told you off, called you a liar, broken ties with you just like he did with Ava, because you were her best friend and you took part in her lies, that should've been the case but it wasn't. Instead, he just found himself looking for you amidst the crowd, his heart pounding and he ran off to find you, how his heart clenched at the sight of your trembling form and how relieved he felt after knowing you were safe.

He sighed, sitting up straight and switching on the lights of his room. He had been trying to sleep but he couldn't with all these thoughts running in his mind. His eyes wandered around his room as he grabbed the glass of water from his nightstand and drank it. He stopped when his eyes landed on the notebook neatly placed on his desk, your notebook, which you dropped as you rushed to attend the seminar. Despite his better judgement, his steps carried him towards his desk anyway. He picked up the notebook, fingers tracing the stem of the book, smiling softly at the little heart you drew at the corner of the cover page. He traced the heart with his thumb as if to picture you doodling it while you were thinking about something.

There wasn't a single thought behind his eyes when he opened your notebook, no suspicion, no curiosity, just a causal reach, a familiar motion which one does when they have a book in their hand. He didn't mean to see anything inside the book, but the second the pages parted and his eyes caught the words written inside, something shifted, like his heart recognized something his mind was yet to figure out. His fingers stilled against the paper, breath hitching as he looked at the pages, turning over a few more, just in case. He stumbled a bit, like the floor beneath his feet decided to slip off, and fell on his bed, he exhaled a deep breath, eyes trained on the book and your handwriting staring back at him, achingly familiar, too familiar and it hurt.

His fingers hovered over the ink, as if he felt the words would vanish if he touched them carelessly. But they didn't, they stayed, etched in the unmistakable way you write your words, the same pauses, the same rhythm. He flipped open the last page of the book and his throat tightened as he read a few lines that were scribbled recklessly, the handwriting a bit messy as if you wanted to hold onto the words before they disappeared from your head. Lines he recognized instantly, the one he knew he had read before, not in your notebook but in one of the letters that are neatly tucked inside the box. He grabbed the box and searched for the letters where you wrote those exact same lines dedicated to him. Keeping them side by side.

'I think you look the best as the sun sets, the sun's rays kissing your face in a gentle goodbye. Even the ground beneath you looks beautiful coated in your silhouette, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop seeing that version of you when I close my eyes.' He remembered those lines, he remembered how you wrote that you watched him enter the campus with his bandmates as he laughed at something his friends said, how you watched him till he disappeared from your sight from the library's crooked window, how you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by how beautiful he looked and how deeply you were falling for him. His hands trembled as he clutched the notebook in his hands and made his way towards his car, towards you. He couldn't wait till next morning to talk to you, not after everything you both have been through, not after all the wait and longing.

You were sitting on your couch, hands in your hair, regretting everything that led you to this moment. All you wanted was to express your love for a person who helped you when you were at your lowest, a quiet support to let him know he wasn't alone. You still recalled writing him your first letter after you heard his parents berate him for choosing a musical career instead of their family business, they way his shoulders slumped, how hurt embraced him like an old friend. All you wanted was to let him know that he's loved, he's seen, and that his struggles aren't invisible. And maybe you did reach your goal, made him feel all the things you intended on making him feel but then everything shattered, like a twisted fairytale. And here you were, replaying it all, wishing you'd never sent those letters to him to spare him from the hurt that now made home in his eyes.

You wiped the tears that streamed down your cheeks, they seemed to be never ending, you'd sit for a while, blankly staring at nothing in particular then a sudden wave of emotions would dawn on you and tears would well up. You didn't try to stop them, didn't try to think of something that would numb all the pain. You deserved it, after all you had chosen to side with Ava instead of correcting her mistakes, so you let yourself feel, let yourself cry, let yourself hurt. You stood up, deciding to let sleep distract you from your feelings for a few hours would be a good option, you didn't want to bother Sunghoon with your feelings, he already did so much for you.

You turned around towards your bedroom, stopping mid-step as the echo of your doorbell bounced off your apartment walls. You frowned, wondering who would be visiting you at this hour. Still, you made your way towards the door, and opened it without a second thought, Jay stood in front of you, breathless, eyes red, then your eyes fell upon something he was holding tight in his hand. A notebook, yours to be specific. He didn't say anything right away, just stared at you as your brain pieced together the puzzle. You tilted your head upward, heart racing as you looked at him when a voice at the back of your head chimed in, he knows.

You weren't sure what to expect now that your secret has been revealed, you didn't not expect to see him again so soon, especially not with your notebook clutched in his hand at least. He walked towards you, and you wordlessly backed away to give him space, he hesitated before reluctantly stepping forward and keeping the book on the table by your entrance, "you left this behind," he mumbled, looking towards the notebook and not you, his voice hoarse as if it had been scratched. Then he turned towards you, stepping forward till there was no space left for you to go, "I read it." You swallowed, heart thundering inside your chest, "why did you? It was you....all this time....you." You inhaled sharply, mind racing with countless of things you could say to make this situation less messy and complicated than it had become, but before you could speak, he closed the distance, almost desperately, almost as if staying one second away from you was eating him up alive.

His lips met yours, not softly, not hesitantly. His fingers tangled in your hair, another one snaking around your waist to pull you close. Your hands found home on his shoulders, gasping at the sheer shock of it all. He kissed you like it was his elixir, the only thing that made the ache in his heart subsidize for a while. The kiss was everything, pain, longing, anger, love, all wrapped into one reckless moment of affection. He pulled back enough for both of you to breathe the air but not far enough that you'd miss his touch. His hand was still tangled in your hair, he gave it a gentle tug to tilt your head towards him, "I'm so fucking mad at you," his lips brushed against yours as he uttered those words, low and seething, "but I've never wanted anything else more than this."

He stepped back while you were still frozen in one place, his kiss lingering on your lips like a confession and goodbye at the same time. You opened your eyes, your breathing shallow, a little bit shaky as you watched him pace around your living room. You hesitated reaching out for him, like if you moved quickly the moment would shatter and vanish like it never happened in the first place. "Jay," you started, softly this time, fearing he would stop you yet again and leave you hanging, when he didn't, you took it as a sign to continue, "I never meant for you to know it's me." He stopped, his back turned towards you, "but I needed to..." turning around and stepping closer to you, "I needed to know it was you." Your lips trembled, you looked down to prevent him from watching you break yet again.

His hand reached up to cup your face, other reaching forward to hold your hand, "I was so angry," he breathed, leaning his forehead on yours, "At Ava, at you, at myself. I thought maybe all of it was just a fragment of my imagination, that none of this was real." You blinked, nodding your head, unsure of whether this is where he leaves or forgives you, "but then I saw this notebook, your handwriting, and I knew it was real, that you are real." Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them back. "Why didn't you tell me?" He questioned, his nose brushing against yours, "I didn't tell you because I never thought you'd ever see me that way."

He kissed away the tears that managed to escape your eyes, your heart swelling with emotions at the softness of his actions, "don't say that, you don't get to decide how I feel about you, about us." He kissed your forehead, staying there for a beat or two, "I was looking for someone who was by my side the whole time, who made me feel seen, yet I was blind enough to never recognize the calm I felt in your presence was so achingly familiar."

"I never planned on coming out of the shadows, Jay. I just wanted to love you from afar, because I felt someone like me would never be able to keep up with someone like you. But Ava changed everything and I couldn't do anything about it. I tried warning her, but you looked so happy when she confessed that I couldn’t bring myself to tell the truth." You choked a sob, leaning your head on his shoulder as you cried. He held you close, kissing your head as he tried to blink back his own tears. "I fell in love with your words first, but it was your presence that made me fall deeper." And then without another word, he pulled you in for another kiss, soft and slow before it turned into something hungrier and needy.

"You said you weren't sure if I wanted you right?" He mumbled, not breaking the kiss, he pushed you towards your bedroom, a soft gasp leaving your lips at the abrupt movement, he took it as an opportunity to ease his tongue in your mouth, exploring, carving and claiming every corner of you as his, "let me show you how much I want you." His kisses trailed down from your mouth, to your jaw, his hand tilting your head slightly to pepper kisses down your throat. Your hand clutched his shirt, other sliding up from his chest to the nape of his neck and pulling his hair lightly. He groaned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, his tongue lapping at your sweet spot. You moaned, he took it as a sign to suck on the same spot till a mark bloomed on it.

He pulled away, your body trembling as the air hit the spot where he licked. "You want me to show you?" He whispered, giving you a chance to back out if this isn't what you wanted, you gulped, taking a step closer, lips hovering above his, just enough, enough to drive him crazy with the distance, enough to have him begging for more, "yes," you sighed against his lips before grabbing his collar and pulling him down for another kiss. His hands travelled down from your neck, to your waist and finally they settled down low on your hips, pulling you closer so you could feel his hardening length against your thigh. You bit his bottom lip in response, which pulled a hiss from his mouth, hands tightening around your hips like he didn't want you to stop.

You felt his hand knead on the skin at the swell of your ass, your hands curling around his neck to bring him closer. He tapped your thigh, once, twice while leaning down and you took it as a sign to jump as he gave you support and carried you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and he pushed your body against the wall. He pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips making him moan. He looked at you with a heavy, drunk in euphoria stare, a lopsided smile adorning his face as he took in your form, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, hair messy and swollen lips. He decided it was one of his favorite looks.

His hand slid up from your waist, to your chest, stopping briefly to see you whimper before it reached your neck. He curled his finger around your neck, giving it a firm squeeze and you whined, throwing your head back, legs instinctively tightening around his hips. He smirked, leaning closer, "I need you to use your voice for me, butterfly. You think you could do that for me?" You nodded your head, aroused by the intensity of it all. He gave your neck another squeeze, a bit more firm, like a warning, "use your words, butterfly." You moaned, eyes rolling back, "yes." He smiled, releasing his hold from your neck and giving your neck a gentle kiss, "good girl."

Your hands that rested on his shoulders, rose up to cradle his face as he continued to lick, suck and bite your neck. You tilted his head, reconnecting your lips with his as if you couldn't just get enough of it. He groaned, one hand sliding at the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss and the other pressing into the skin of your arm, squeezing the flesh to anchor himself. He traced his tongue on your lips, before capturing your lips again, biting at the skin, silently asking you to let him in. His fingers then pulled at the hem of your top, tugging at it impatiently, you broke off the kiss, pulling the top over your head and throwing it somewhere in the room. His pupils dilated, hunger creeping in as he looked at you like he had been starving.

You swallowed hard, for the first time in your life you were watching someone unravel because of you without even doing anything wild. His ragged breath made you bold, you ran your fingers through his scalp before grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging it. He moaned, his lips attaching to the unmarked area of your chest, his hands sliding up and stopping just below the swell of your breast, "is this okay butterfly? Can I touch you here?" You whined, arching your chest, needy for his touch, "please," you whispered, almost as if it physically pained you because he wasn't touching you and he sighed, biting his lips and reaching up to squeeze your boobs.

"Let me take this off," His hands found the clasp of your bra, detaching it in one swift motion, he pulled the bra off of you and threw it down. Your eyes widened, low-key impressed by his 'bra-removing-expertise' but your train of thoughts broke off just as you felt his lips on your nipple, he liked it, then blew air on it, sending shiver throughout your body, his hand softly massaging the other one. You closed your eyes, leaning your head against the wall as he switched between both of your boobs, heat pooling between your legs, begging for attention. He took his time with your boobs, relishing at the sound of your soft sighs. He licked up your neck, placing a slow kiss on it, you grind your hips against his, a groan ripping out of his throat at the sudden sensation. His hands supported your back as he turned around and walked towards the bed, gently laying you down.

He stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes roaming on your half-naked self, he climbed up, gulping at the sight before him, "so beautiful." Your hands instinctively cross over your chest, frown appearing on his face at your actions, "don't be embarrassed, it's just me." He hovered over you, hands on your side, he removed your arms from your chest, dipping his head low and placing gentle kisses all over your chest, mumbling sweet nothings in between. Your hands fists the sheets, as he moved lower, his eyes trained on the way your expression changed with every movement of his. He stopped as he reached near the waistband of your shorts, sucking and marking the area around your hips. Your breath shuddered, eyes closing.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Your body relaxed as you felt Jay's voice vibrate through the skin of your stomach, you looked at him, hands on both sides of your hips as he found home in between your legs, chin propped up on your stomach, pupil blown wide as he waited for your answer. You ran your fingers through his hair, a small smile gracing your lips before the heat in between your legs became too much to handle, "yes, love." He got up, sitting on his knees as he started removing his shirt. You reached up, rising slightly to help him, eager to have him close. He threw his shirt somewhere near the bed, you sat up, trailing kisses from his torso to his chest. He tangled his fingers on your hair, not pulling, just holding. His eyes met with your lust filled one and you bit on his nipple, then placed a kiss, he moaned, loud enough that he surprised himself, and he pushed you back on the bed, connecting his lips back to yours.

His hands travelled down your body, squeezing, gripping, tracing, the skin beneath his hands, "you're so soft, butterfly." His fingers dig inside the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitched in anticipation, he looked at you once before he pulled both your shorts and panties off of you, together, in one swift motion. You tried closing your legs, the air around you feeling cool against the slick in between your folds. "You're dripping butterfly, all this for me?" He dipped down, fingers separating your folds to get a better look at your dripping hole, you whined, clenching around nothing as his words went straight into your core. His breath fanning against your folds, he slid up two of his fingers on your slit, your hips jolting with surprise, legs shaking.

He kept an eye on your face, in case you felt uncomfortable, he rubbed your clit in small circles, your legs digging in the bed, back arching. Your hand gripped his shoulder, the other one holding the wrist of his hand which was making you see stars. "I'll be putting a finger in love," he waited for your reply then carefully inserted his middle finger inside your hole, you gasped, lead lifting off the pillow, his head dipped down, capturing your lips in his to help you get distracted. He started moving his finger when you let out a strained whine, his movements slow and steady as he waited for your body to adjust to the feeling. "So good, Jay." He smiled at your words, carefully inserting his index finger and curling them inside you to test out the waters.

"Jay," you moaned, eyes rolling back, he continued his movements, increasing his pace, he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, "damn love, you're doing so good for me." Your chest rose and fell, heart racing, mind filled with pleasure, you could feel a knot forming in your stomach, "Jay, I think- I think I'm gonna cum," Jay smiled at you, already feeling your release close before you even said anything, "yeah? Cum all over my fingers butterfly, make a mess." You nodded, brows furrowing at the overwhelming feeling, "shit, Jay don't stop," your breath shuttered, pleasure washing over you. Jay's movements slowed down, his eyes trained on the way your juices coated his fingers, his head dipped down, licking a long strip on your pussy, your hands flew onto his head, pulling at his hair at the sudden action.

His fingers gain their pacing again, as his tongue works on your clit, "Jay, it's too much, I can't." He groans when he feels you pull at his hair, "you can do it love, give me another one please." He laps at your pussy, eating it like it's his last meal, his hips slightly rut against the bed, aching to get some friction, you bite your lips, trying to supress your moans with how good he's making you feel and it's not long before you come undone again. He removed his fingers from your pussy and you whined at the empty feeling, you watched as he looked at you before putting his fingers at his mouth and licking them clean. His hands then spread your legs wider, tongue darting out to lick you clean. You shiver, legs closing around his head, feeling overstimulated after cumming twice, he laps at your pussy, smiling at you when he's done.

You pull the waistband of his jeans, a little impatient but eager to help him with his needs, "take it off." He chuckled at your needy tone as he removed his jeans and boxer, his hardened lock slapping against his abs. You gulped, mouth salivating at the sight, he looked so gorgeous as he kneeled before you, eyes closing momentarily as he stroked himself lightly, spreading his precum on his length. He climbed over you, his cock slapping against your thigh. He sighed, wiping the sweat dripping off your forehead and removing the hair sticking on your face. "So beautiful, could eat you out for hours, butterfly, you taste so good." You flush at his words, slapping his chest lightly, he laughed, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on your forehead.

He rubbed his cock against your fold to gather you slick, his hands placed on either side of your head, one of your hands held his shoulder while the other ran through his hair. He kissed you, gentle and soft as he lined himself up in your entrance, your breath hitched at the mere contact, legs tightening beside his waist, he groaned against the kiss, his hand sliding down to keep your legs open wide as he pushed himself in you, slow and steady. You hissed, feeling his tip enter your dripping cunt, he kissed you all throughout, mumbling words of encouragement and praises in between as he slowly bottomed out inside you. "Fuck butterfly, you're so fucking tight around me, it's like you're sucking me in, love."

You whimpered, feeling full, he looked at you, showering kisses across your face till you adjusted to his size so he could move. "Tell me when you'll be ready, okay love? Take your time." You nodded your head, kissing and marking his neck to distract yourself from momentary pain, his neck chain shining, against your face, "please move, Jay, fuck." He gave you a peck before pulling out of your pussy all the way, then sliding back in, in one swift motion. Your back arched, as a strangled moan left your lips. His hands trembled just hearing you moan right next to his ears. The sounds are going straight in his cock.

He pulled out, only to thrust back in, slow and deep, his eyesbrows furrowed as he tried his best not to lose control and fuck you senseless. You moaned, your walls clenching around his length, his chain hitting your face in the same rhythm his hips snapped against yours. "Faster, please." He leaned his head on yours, his movements steady as he smirked at you, "you want it faster my love?" You nodded frantically, and he bit your lip as he adjusted himself to increase his pace. He started slamming his length into you faster, and harder and with the way your walls were trying to suck him into you, he knew you were close. One of his hands slid down your body to rub circles around your clit to heighten your pleasure.

"Ah fuck, Jay!" He smirked as you held onto him like your life depended on it, "you're taking me so well baby, this pussy," he groaned, hand never stopping their movement on your clit, "made for me." You whined, nails digging on his shoulders, his chain repeatedly hitting your face, you frowned tilting your head up and parted your lips, and as the chain hit your face again, you trapped it between your teeth, Jay froze at he felt a abrupt tug on his neck, looking down towards you he breathed out a pained sigh, completely unraveling. His hips recovered their pace, hips slamming against yours. You released the chain and he dipped his head to suck your nipple.

"Fuck, Jay, I'm close so close," He released your nipple only to focus on the other one, "me too, I'm close too butterfly, cum with me, cover me with your juices, love, fuck." His movements became sloppy, losing the rhythm as he fucked you recklessly, you moaned one last time as your orgasm washed over you, he rode you through your high before spilling his seeds inside of you, long spruts if cum dripping out of his cock, you whined feeling the heat of his cum spilling inside if you. "I love you," you opened your eyes to see smiling down at you, the soft glow of your bedroom light framed him in gold, casting a quiet halo around his body, he chuckled lightly, wiping the tear that escaped your eyes without even you knowing, your lips trembled, "I love you too."

He closed his eyes, dropping his weight on you as he hugged you close, burying his face on your neck, still buried deep inside you. You hugged his shoulders, massaging his scalp as both of you regained your breath. "Come one, let me clean you up so we can sleep." You whined at his words and he chuckled, scooping you in his arms instead and took you inside the bathroom to clean you and himself up. You shuddered as he cleaned your pussy, feeling overstimulated and sore. He mumbled quick apologies, cleaning himself up, changing the sheets and climbing up on the bed with you to finally sleep.

The hallway is empty, save for a few students who are scattered across in little groups, you're sitting inside the empty classroom, gathering your belongings as you texted Jay that you'll be heading to his house soon. A small smile gracing up on your face at the mere thought of spending time with him. You're so busy with yourself that you don't hear her approach you. But the moment a pair of heels come into view, you glance up and Ava is already looking down at you, standing in front of you like she had been searching for you all day. Her eyes are red, almost as if she had been crying all week, her perfect hair frying at the edges, but it's her eyes, raw, wild and angry, you stand up.

"You're such a great actress," she says, low and seething as she looked at you, "you wrote those letters and let me play the role of a fool as I claimed to be the one who wrote your letters. You let me be the thief." You opened your mouth but she cut you off, stepping forward, every movement sharp with fury, "was this your ultimate plan? To humiliate me? Let me take the fall so you could step on me and reclaim the spot as yours?" Your eyebrow twitched, words flying off of your mind at her accusations, "No!" You sharply declined, stepping towards her instead of backing away like you always did, "you don't get to play the victim here Ava, you did this all upon yourself. Yes I wrote those letters, yes I let you claim it as yours but I did it for Jay."

You stood tall, having enough of her tantrums and manipulation, "I did it because he looked so happy when I saw him with you. You didn't ask me when you claimed those letters as yours, I even warned you but you are so selfish, you only think about yourself." She laughed, eyes squinting, "you let me live in the spotlight while you sat there watching me like some pathetic loser, what does that make me now?" Her voice crumbled, not from pain but from fury, "nothing, that's what I am now! I lost Jay, I lost my spotlight, I lost....you. and you were supposed to be someone who would never leave." Your heart broke watching her breakdown in front of you but you knew better.

"You were mine, my best friend, my shadow. You weren't supposed to overtake me, you were supposed to stay behind me!" She stepped closer, but you stepped back, she froze, realization hitting her on the face that the power she once had on you is over now. "You don't complain when you make your own plate, Ava. I warned you but you never listened. I stayed with you even when I knew you were using me to satisfy your ego, I thought you'd change but no, you don't care about anyone else but you and your image, and now that you've lost it, you're trying to manipulate me into thinking I was at fault. You wouldn't be in this situation if you never lied." She laughed, "wow, you really are the cruel one," she whispered. She stepped back, her heels echoing off the empty classroom and she left. And you were left standing there, watching her go out of your classroom and your life.

"Yeah yeah, I'll be there soon," Jay replied to Heeseung while packing his things inside his bag. He was currently in the music room of the university while everyone else was waiting for him to join them at a hangout spot they usually go to, the bridge that overlooks a river. He hung up the phone, his screen blinking with Heeseung's contact photo. He shook his head, locking his screen and continuing with his actions. He looked around to check if he forgot anything when he noticed he left his music book on the table, he grabbed the book hurriedly before placing it inside his bag.

An envelope fell down from his book due to his frantic movements and he stopped, crouching down to pick it up. His chest fluttered when he opened it, a handwriting which he had seen countless times appearing in front of his eyes, he smiled in amusement, wondering when you put this letter inside his book. He opened the letter anyway, deciding that waiting till the day was over would be too much for his curious heart.

My Jay,

If you look into my eyes, you'll find me thanking the heavens for blessing you in my life, smiling at the thought that I was lucky to have you, thinking about how I ended up with you.

If you look into my eyes, you'll find me looking for you everywhere I go, trying to trace your face amongst the crowd, yearning for being in your presence.

If you look into my eyes, amidst all the lingering eyes and subtle glances, you'll find me staring at you, watching you giggle, and when I get caught, I look away hiding my blush.

If you look into my eyes, you'll see how much your presence affects me, wanting to be the center of your universe. If I could, I would spend eternity with you.

If you look into my eyes, you'll find me clutching onto our dreams, a bit insecure about our future, still determined to take the tempting risk.

If you look into my eyes, you'll find how deeply I'm into you, so much so to the point I sometimes scare myself, thinking about how hard life would be without you.

If you look into my eyes, you'll find me standing by the river, gently letting the wind engulf my heart, looking at you longingly as you try your best not to fall.

If you look into my eyes, you'll see a tired soul, just wanting to love and to be loved, wondering if you feel it the way I do.

If you look into my eyes, you'll feel the love that pours out of me, just look up and stare directly at my eyes, you'll find me clutching at our dreams.

If you look into my eyes, you'll find yourself.

Yours,

Butterfly.

PS: I know you're wondering when I put this letter inside, but you'd never know, I'm kind of very good at this whole secret admirer agenda. Don't expect anything else, just because I'm dating you doesn't mean these letters will stop. I'm very much in love with you, but there are still some moments where I'm too shy to say what I want to say, but I need you to know how much I love you, so these letters are my armour. I wrote this for you recently, and I wanted you to read that!

He smiled, feeling warmth spread all throughout him as he folded the letter and put it inside the envelope, making a mental note to keep it inside the box when he reached back home. He sighed, content at how things have turned out. He still had a long way to go with his parents but you were by his side now, so he was glad he wouldn't have to face it alone. He felt at peace with you, never felt the need to say much. He was zoned out, drowning in his thoughts when his phone rang again, he snapped out of his thoughts, answering Heeseung's calls, "I'm done bro, I was just leaving."

"How many fingers can you see?" You glared at Jake, who currently stood beside you holding up 4 fingers in front of your face, "four," you muttered through gritted teeth, you could hear Heeseung chuckle from behind you, which annoyed you more. You put your glasses back, shoving Jake's shoulders. "You can see, why do you need glasses," you rubbed your temple, sighing in disappointment, "I'm not THAT blind, I just need them to see more clearly, stupid." Jake looked at you like you had just committed a crime against his dignity, "woah, did you just call me stupid? After all the love and affection I shower you with?" He placed a hand on his heart, staggering back a step, "me? The one who puts up with you squinting at traffic lights?"

Your mouth fell open at his words, you lurched forward, attempting to grab his precious hair as he didn't seem to back down from his teasing you. Heeseung laughed at both of you, clutching his stomach, beside him Sunghoon just shook his head, an amused smile plastered on his face as he stepped forward to separate Jake from your fury. "See, and you wonder why I call her trouble!" You stuck your tongue out at Jake, who was trying to make his hair more presentable after you messed it, trying to win an argument like a five year old, which worked somehow because Jake whined, clearly more irritated.

Jake gave you a side eye before turning around dramatically and walked off, joining Heeseung and complaining about how mean you are and how you never seem to return the love he showers you with, and how he feels that his best friend's agenda is one sided and you never considered him as such. You laughed at him, and he threw you an annoyed glance. You heard Sunghoon clear his throat from behind you and you turned around, standing beside him, overlooking the river as both of you leaned against the railing. "You know," you turned your head in his direction, but he wasn't looking at you, instead focusing his eyes on the view in front of him, "you used to make my heart race, at some time." You saw him swallow, a soft smile adorning his face, your heart skipped a beat, but you still hummed in response, "now you make me question your maturity level on a daily basis."

You gasped in mock offense, turning your head back at the river flowing gently in front of you, "excuse you, I just reciprocate the energy people give me." He chuckled, his fang-like teeth making an appearance, "whatever helps you sleep at night pretty." You pout at his words, bumping your shoulder with his playfully, he bumps back, just enough to make you slightly wobble on your spot. "Hey! I could've fallen," you whined, holding onto the railing tightly as if he would try to bump into you again, "don't worry, I would have fallen with you before letting you do it alone." You felt your heart tightened at his words but when you looked at him, you could see a teasing glint in his eyes, like he knew those words would make you stumble a bit.

You shook your head, smiling softly at his words, "see I don't doubt your words but I was hoping you'd just pull me back instead of falling with me." He chuckled at your words, ruffling your hair before retracting his hand back. "I'm glad it's you," He mumbled after sometime, "with Jay, I mean." He was already looking at you when you turned your head towards him, the wind messing his hair. You smiled, feeling warmth spread over you, "and I'm glad, you are still beside me." He nodded, tearing his eyes away from you, "I know....I think I'm exactly where I am supposed to be." You gulped, still looking at his face, you could see he wanted to say something more, so you just nudged his shoulder and arched your eyebrows at him.

It got quiet for a second, wind flowing through your hair as you stood with him in silence yet it was enough, for you both, it would always be enough, "I think some part of me loved you even before I realized it, you're good, a steady kind of good, the type where I know I could lean on you and never have to worry about falling apart." You nodded, biting your lips at his sudden confession, "and I loved you, not in the way like I love Jay, but something just as real, something I still do." His smile turned a little melancholic but still held the same warmth nonetheless, "I'm glad at the way things turned out, that you got Jay just how you wanted, it pained me to watch him be with Ava, second guessing everything in his life." You exhaled, memories resurfacing in front of your eyes, "you pushed me towards him when all you wanted was to hold me, it's something which I will never forget, Hoon."

"Oh, this dangerously looks like someone is trying to bond without me," you both turn around at the voice, you don't move but you're already grinning like a lovesick fool, the wind mess with your hair lightly and Sunghoon just smiles like he had been waiting for Jay to make his entrance. "Relax, lover boy, she's still yours." Jay rolled his eyes at Sunghoon's words, making his way towards where you stood and sliding his arms around both of your shoulders, pulling you both in. "We were just talking," you grinned, nuzzling into his warmth, "talking huh?" He teased, playing with your ear. Sunghoon snorted, clearly amused at the exchange, "yeah talking, want me to narrate everything to you so you'd feel included?"

Jay shook his head as Sunghoon leaned his head on his shoulder, "trouble comes in pairs in my life." You and Sunghoon laughed at his words, not really defending his claim, then Jay sighed, a content smile gracing on his lips, "lucky for me though, I'm clingy and not emotionally constipated." You scrunch your nose in response, just as Sunghoon faked his cough, "and humble too, apparently," you joked, rolling your eyes though you had a fond smile on your face. "Seriously though..." Jay trailed off, kissing your temple as you hand reached up to give his hand a gentle squeeze, "I don't think I've ever felt this steady in my life, like I know even if the world around me starts to spin I've got people who would have my back."

"And we've got your back too," Heeseung replied, standing beside Sunghoon, who then draped his hand on Heeseung's shoulder, while Jake joined your side, his hands interlocking yours as he looked at everyone, "Wow, this shit almost made me cry." Everyone groaned, nagging at him for ruining the moment. "It's so stupid, but I feel so lucky right now," Jay chuckled, biting back his emotions. "You're definitely stupid, but hey at least you're self aware," Heeseung laughed, looking at everyone with softness. Jay shook his head as he dramatically sighed, "I take it back, I'm not lucky, I'm doomed." Sunghoon chimed in, not missing a beat, "you still chose us, real tragic."

Jay threw his head back, mumbling quiet curses and you all laughed at him, Heeseung stepped forward, reaching up to ruffle Jay's hair, and Jay groaned, fighting with him to ruin his hairstyle too. Jake slid his arm around your shoulder and Sunghoon turned his back towards where Jay and Heeseung were fighting and leaned against the railing, you sighed, relaxing under Jake's hold, "you still love us though." Jay's eyes found you, before they landed on the other boys, he watched all of you look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for him to say something in retaliation, but deep down they knew Jay would never disagree with you so with a frustrated groan he mumbled, "unfortunately, I do."

[ikeuwoniee]

I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND, PJS (PART 1)

• SYNOPSIS: A fleeting encounter with Park Jay at a high school party leaves a quiet imprint on your then broken heart. Years later, you find him again, now as an icy guitarist of the campus boy band, HYPHENIX. You never spoke again, but you remembered his eyes, his words, his presence and how he lingered at the back of your mind years after. You wanted to reach for him, but he was so far, popular, untouchable that you decided to pour your heart to him in secret, until the secret was revealed but someone else claimed it before you could. Or in which you pour your heart into anonymous letters for the cold, distant guitarist, Jay, only to watch your best friend claim every word as her own.

• PAIRING: Park Jongseong (Jay) x afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 21.4k (Part 1)

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, university settings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, shy reader x popular Jay, down bad reader, betrayal, abandonment, miscommunications or lack of communications, profanities, name calling, stereotyping, best friend's boyfriend, reader is nosy and loves other people's business way too much (my twin fr), fear of rejection and unwanted attention, body image issues in the beginning, toxic relationships and friendships, low-key stalker reader, reader wears glasses, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything.

PART 2

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic turned out to be more lengthy than I initially planned, so I am splitting it into 2 part. Lmk if you want to be tagged for part 2 when I post it. Your likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated. Thank you so much for showering my write ups with your love. Happy reading♡♡

The music blaring through the speakers hit you first, deep bass vibrating through the pavement long before you reached the house. It meddled with your heartbeat, getting louder with decreasing distance from the party. You sighed leaning your head on the car's window, the house looked unfamiliar, windows glowing red, blue, green against the night. You didn't know whose house this was, just that your boyfriend said everyone would be there and to let yourself loose from time to time. You fixed the glasses on your nose, and adjusted your jacket, you turned your head to look at your boyfriend.

He looked in your direction briefly when he felt your gaze on him before sighing, "don't stress too much." You gulped, feeling anxious, "I don't really know anyone there Joon," you started, eyes brimming with worry, "you'll stay by my side right?" You heard him exhale a deep breath before throwing a wink at you, "yes babe, don't worry, you look really beautiful today, I'm stressed someone will steal you away from me." You pushed him a bit, blush creeping on your neck as you turned back towards the window. 

Cars were lined up the driveway, recklessly parked. You wouldn't expect anything less from high schoolers anyway. You could hear the screams and laughter from the porch, it was loud and chaotic and it made your stomach churned. "Let's go," your eyes followed your boyfriend's actions, and you proceeded to take off your seatbelt. He stood beside the door tapping his foot impatiently, you shook your head and opened your side of the door. He locked the door behind you and started making his way towards the house. You hurriedly rushed behind him, and then slowed your steps down when you reached beside him. 

The air was thick inside, tangled in a weird mix of cheap perfume, alcohol and something burning, maybe it was food or the fireworks you didn't know. Your hand latched onto your boyfriend's sleeve as soon as you entered. The environment was warm, crowded, strangers pressed against each other like puzzle pieces that don't belong together. The LED lights stung your eyes. You moved through the crowd tightly pressed against your boyfriend's side. Every corner of the room was alive with conversations you weren't a part of, some shouting over the music, some laughing at their friend's antics, some posing for pictures. The walls of the house felt suffocating though it was relatively big, the energy inside too much, reminding you that you don't belong here. 

The music was pounding in your ears, too loud, too bothersome. You stood beside your boyfriend, who anxiously texted his friends asking where they are. Your eyes trailed towards the dance floor, bodies swayed with the rhythm of the music, some too close, some trying not to lose their balance. It happened too fast, one moment your boyfriend was beside you, another moment he rushed towards the other side of the room completely disregarding your presence. Your eyes followed him, your steps following suit. Someone shouted over the bass, out of frustration or joy you couldn't tell. 

You grabbed your boyfriend's hand, your action making him stop to look at you. Just in time someone crashed into your shoulder, their clumsy actions making you stumble as a slosh of liquid hit the floor beneath you and onto your heel-cladded feet. The sticky scent of fruit punch or some weird concoction clung in the air, few people gathered around to look at the mess before laughing and stepping over it like it didn't matter. Your feet felt sticky and your boyfriend rolled his eyes at the sight, "how about you go to the bathroom and clean yourself? I'll wait for you here." You grimaced before nodding your head at your boyfriend and making your way towards the bathroom. 

You washed your feet and heels with irritation seeping deep in your bones, this is the exact reason why you don't do parties, it's messy and loud and everything you tend to avoid. After drying your feet and heels with tissue, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror. You combed your fingers through your loose hair to make them a tad bit presentable, fixing your glasses yet again you sighed and texted your boyfriend to meet near the dance floor. You made your way out of the bathroom and towards the dance floor, scanning the room for your boyfriend as you waited for him to text you back. 

"Joon?" You tapped his shoulder when you found him leaning on the wall as he chatted with someone animatedly. He turned around, visible irritation laced on his face as he excused himself and made his way in the opposite direction, you followed suit, confused about his sudden discontent towards you. "Joon, where are you going? I asked you to wait for me, didn't I?" He stopped abruptly when he was sure he was away from the eyesight of his friends. You collided with his back, "I was just catching up with my friends! Can't you at least leave me alone for a few minutes?" You shuddered at his high-pitched tone, "you know I don't like partying yet I came since you promised that you'll stay by my side."

"Gosh you're so clingy-" his voice was cut off when someone called out his name, both of you turned around towards the person, "is this your girl Joon? Won't you introduce her to us?" You eyed the girl who smiled at you after giving your boyfriend a sharp side eye. He shrugged, ushering her to join others before he turned towards you. "Take your jacket and glasses off, try to look good for me in front of my friends, I've a reputation to uphold." Your eyes widened at his words rendering you speechless. It was the first time he had uttered those words to you, was he ashamed of introducing you to his friends just as you were? You thought he loved you for you. 

All of your thoughts came to a halt when he turned you around and took off your jacket despite you protesting. You weren't comfortable with showing much skin. He knew that the spaghetti strap top you were wearing underneath made you feel more conscious about yourself and your surroundings. He threw the jacket somewhere on the couch, grabbing your hand and made his way towards his friends. "Joon, you know I'm not good with people, what are you doing?" He ignored your pleas as he stopped in front of his friends. You put your head down, hoping somehow they'll focus on your boyfriend and forget that you existed. 

"Your girlfriend is really pretty, Joon." One of the girls from his circle chimed, her nails lightly scratching his arms, she didn't even spare you a glance as she went on about how pretty you are, and how funny you must be. Everyone else looked a bit uncomfortable at the exchange aside from your boyfriend and her. Someone cleared their throat to break the awkward tension and your boyfriend snapped from his trance and proceeded to introduce you. Awkward and sympathetic smiles greeted you in return, their eyes meeting with each other like they knew something you didn't. The same girl asked you to have a drink, laughing obnoxiously loud as you declined as if not abusing your liver was a mundane thought to have. 

Joon grabbed the drink from the waiter and held your face with one hand as he forced you to drink whatever it was in that cup, you pushed him, startled by him constantly crossing your boundaries without a single care. The whole group gasped as he stumbled backward and fell on the ground. Few of his friends took out their cameras to record the scene. You wiped the remnants of the drink dropping down from your mouth, your eyes fixed on the way your boyfriend glared at you. The girl from earlier sat by his side, words of venom spilling off from her cherry lips as she helped your boyfriend get up. And with the way your boyfriend's hand rested low on her lips and the concern etched on her face, you knew what place you held in your boyfriend's life.

You shook your head as you made your way towards the back of the house, taking off your glasses momentarily to wipe the tears that managed to fall off your eyes. The backyard was nearly empty save it from a few people who were smoking joints in the corner. You made your way towards the small staircase which led towards the gazebo and sat there, contemplating on your reactions towards your boyfriend's actions. You turned to look if he followed you but got more disappointed as you saw him wrapping his arms around the girl instead. You couldn't figure out if the shiver that went down your spine and the goosebumps on your skin was because of your boyfriend's actions or because of the weather. 

You let the tears flow, your glasses fogging up as you took deep breaths to control losing your shit right at a stranger's house. This isn't how you planned the start of your weekend to go, yet here you were, drowning in your misery as your mind went back to all the things your boyfriend did previously which you ignored. You were too busy believing in his potential that you forgot to look at how he is in the present. All the lies, the excuses, the missed dates, the secrecy everything played in front of your eyes like a tape record on loop. You blame yourself for letting him play with you for so long. 

You stopped crying when a blurry image came into view, you took off your glasses, wiped it with the hem of your top and put it back to get a better view. You heard a sigh from beside you, as your vision adjusted, a handkerchief. You took it in your hand and wiped your tears, unable to look at the person who handed it to you. "Young love, huh? Must be painful..." your eyes fell on the stranger who sat beside you, a half-smile adorning his face, not unkind but more like he knew how you were feeling, "but hey, heartbreak makes a good story for later, right?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment, "you're saying it like you're some old man trapped in a hot boy body." 

"You're saying I'm hot?" Your cheeks flared up with heat as you let the weight of your words sink in your head, your eyes widened in embarrassment as he just laughed. You took in his appearance, he was laughing with his head thrown back, carefree and unfiltered like he owned the world. His cheeks flushed, either from alcohol or laughing, you weren't sure. His smile was wide, the kind of smile which made people look at him twice even without meaning to. His hair's a little messy, pushed back like he ran his hands through it one to many times. His eyes shined with a tipsy charm as they locked with yours, the kind of eyes which makes you forget your own name even when he's sober. 

"I saw what happened back there, thought you'd appreciate a company," his words brought your mind back to your current situation, frown appearing on your relaxed face once again. You sighed, hugged yourself, maybe you could use some company, "I really thought he loved me," you started, head hanging low as you felt shame consume you for being so stupid, "I let him break one too many of my boundaries." He sighed as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders. His scent enveloped your senses, calming your frantic heart a little, "dump him, he's not worth it and you're better than this." 

You looked at him briefly, "I don't know if I have that much confidence in me, I don't have anyone else other than him." His hand made its way to your chin, lifting it up slightly, you're met with his sharp gaze, "confidence isn't loud you know, sometimes confidence is just choosing yourself over others. And I believe you're closer to choosing yourself than you think." His determined eyes and lopsided smile made your heart skip a bit. He reluctantly removed his hand from your chin, coughing awkwardly as he looked away as if his words didn't really pierced through your heart. "You think so?" You questioned meekly as you fiddled with your fingers. He looked at the sky, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped, "You don't need to be confident to walk away. You just need to take one step. And yeah, maybe you feel like he is all you have right now but he is not all there is. Don't build your entire world around someone who can't hold it for you." 

You let his words sink in your chest, your boyfriend was the only person you had, he made sure of that. Maybe deep down you knew you deserved better than him, and maybe you just needed someone else to remind you, "you're great with words, can I at least know the name of the person I am trauma bonding with?" He chuckled at your words, "Jay's fine." You nodded, telling him your name in return. You spent the rest of the night talking with him, your mind drifting far off from your boyfriend as you laughed at him while he explained how he got fed up with his friends who were shit-faced drunk and creating a scene. He told you how parties weren't really his cup of tea but he liked entertaining his friends who loved it. As the night went on you realized he was drunk as well and probably won't even remember this small exchange with you in the morning, yet you were glad you weren't drowning alone in your misery tonight. 

"Ah, I need to go. My friends have been calling me non stop and my phone was on silent mode." He was on his feet and off towards the house before you could bring yourself to stop him to ask for his number. You booked a cab to get you back to your house when you realized he didn't take his jacket back with him. You just looked at him as his figure disappeared into the crowd and ran towards the direction he went but you lost him and you wondered if you'll ever be able to meet me again. You reached home, head pounding due to all the crying and a little bit of drink which your boyfriend forced you to drink. 

You quickly messaged your boyfriend to call it quits and blocked his number from every possible app you could, not even waiting for his reply. You opened your instagram, your fingers moving before your mind did. You recognized a guy from your school, Sunoo, at the party. He's a social butterfly. Maybe his profile could help you with finding Jay. You opened his profile, sighing in relief as his page was public, you went to the tagged section to see if you could find Jay and there he was. You zoomed in to take a clear look, the picture was blurry but the jacket in the picture looked familiar to the one currently draped on your chair. You clicked on it to see if his username is tagged and thankfully it did. His profile was more low-key than low-key, just some pictures of his guitars, a group picture and a name, HYPHENIX.

The university's campus is louder and lively than it needs to be. The courtyard buzzing with laughter and talks of people huddling together to make memories. People walk in with their little groups, coffee in one hand, backpacks slung over their shoulders, carefree like they've already figured out how to survive here, like they know they belong here. You pass through them like wind brushing past one's hair, your head down, hands clasped around the straps of your backpack. The hallway isn't any better, students rushing to get to their respective classes, some frantic, some lazed out. There's echo of shoes, heels, sneakers, boots, which remind you that you are walking with them, just not beside. Voices overlap, laughter resonates, lockers being slammed shut and class door's daring you to knock and enter. Everyone seems to have somewhere to be, someone to text, someone waiting for them to join and you just wheeze past them, not invisible entirely just easy to miss. 

You're halfway to your class when you hear someone call out your name, turn around and smile softly at your best friend, Ava, short for Avalyn, to catch up to you. "Where are you running off to?" You take off your headphones and place it inside the case, "my morning class Ava! You got free time?" She shook her head, her keratin smooth hair swaying slightly at her movement, "I'm trying for cheer squad remember? I'm going for a practice session to get through the audition." You nodded your head in understanding, she had been trying to have a spot in the cheer squad for a while now, she's good at it you think, but you guess popularity plays a key role in getting into the team. 

She continued to walk by your side as she gushed about how she's getting better at cheering, you listened to her, that's what you usually do. You bid her goodbye and enter your class. The class went on as usual, nothing out of ordinary. You took notes of the things the professor said, then quietly packed your things to leave. You were placing the headphones in your ears when your eyes landed on a figure standing a few feet away from you, your steps halted and there he was, Jay. He was leaning against a pillar, nodding his head at the person talking with him, one hand raking through his already messy hair. His other hand was holding onto the strap of his guitar case. 

You watched him from the entrance of your class, occasionally sliding your finger on your phone screen to appear busy as you stole glances at him. Your eyes blinked a few times, not really believing the sight in front of you. He barely spoke, just nodded along the conversation with a blank expression on. He hadn't changed much, except he was now taller, his features more sharp, and more mature than you last remember. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, maybe it was because you saw him after so many years or maybe because he hadn't left your mind even once since you had a talk with him at that high school party. 

He reminded you of the past version of yourself which you haven't really forgotten. A small crowd gathered around him, he sighed heavily. His eyes scanned around the area, you hid yourself behind the door of your class. You peeked from your place, your breath caught. He didn't notice you, of course he didn't. He excused himself as he started walking towards the opposite direction, the crowd following close behind him and that's when it hit you, how far both of your lives had drifted. There he was, in the spotlight, surrounded by people who admired him while you stood behind the class doors, in the shadows, wondering, watching.

"Where are you?" Ava's voice rang through your headphones as you ordered your coffee from a local coffee shop. You paid the cashier and thanked him as you made your way out of the shop, "at the coffee shop, I'm going out for a bit." You could imagine her pouting on the other side of the phone, her voice whiny, "why are you going out alone? I would have loved to accompany you, don't forget you have me by your side okay?" You pursed your lips as you nodded at her words then realizing she couldn't possibly see you, "I know Ava, but I can't always depend on you right?" She opened her mouth to protest, "you can depend on me, I'm your only friend." You frowned but didn't disagree with her, it was true that she was your only friend, she has been the only one who saw you and has been by your side since the university started and you're glad that she stood beside you and helped you. 

"I'll make it up to you okay?" She squealed at your remark, hanging up the phone before informing you about her nail appointment, your eyes unconsciously fell on your own hands, maybe you could get a manicure too. High school was hard after your breakup, with no one by your side but you got through it alone. Now, as you were older and wiser than your high school self, you started to enjoy your own company too. You sipped your coffee as you walked down the street, your feet leading you nowhere in particular when your eyes landed on the familiar mop of hair down the street. You stopped in your tracks, closing your eyes, you shook your head, when you opened your eyes there was no one in sight. You sighed, you're starting to hallucinate about Jay now, it wasn't good for your heart.

You continued your way down the street, ears picking up angry voices across the alleyway. You looked at your surroundings, not many people walk around nowadays. You told yourself you were just stretching your legs, but truthfully curiosity took the best of your senses and guided you across the alleyway where the voices became more clearer as you walked closer. You stood in the corner, your eyes squinting behind your glasses to take a closer look. "I want you to focus on your academics too, Jay. We don't want your silly little hobby to come in the way of your career." Your brows furrowed when your heart a high pitch feminine voice and a name so familiar you could write in your sleep. 

You crane your head to get a glimpse of the scene. There stood Jay, his head hung low as he avoided the eyes of two older people, presumably his mom and dad as they lectured him in front of their car. "Your music is taking up more of your time than your academics, don't forget you're going to be the hire of our business, the sooner you realize this the better it will be for you." Your heart sank as they went on and on about Jay's choices and how disappointed they are at him. Your eyes followed his parent's car as it left, then trailed towards the boy who now was crouched down on the road. He took a few rocks from the ground and threw them across the road, his face visibly contoured with hurt and anger. 

You took a step forward before deciding against it. You were eavesdropping, which you were sure wasn't welcomed with the scenario that unfolded right in front of your eyes, but watching him slump against the concrete wall, head between his hands, you wanted to comfort him, just like how he did when you were at your lowest. You wanted to help him, encourage him to not give up on his love for music just to satisfy his parents but with the image he had built around himself in the campus, it was impossible for you to just randomly show up to him to console. He would kill you with his stare before you even opened your mouth, so you decided to stay in the shadows and help him with his issues. By being a secret admirer, the book girlie inside of you was dancing in excitement.

Early morning in the campus was just how you imagined it would be, it carried a quiet kind of hush which felt too sacred to disturb. The sun had began to rise not long ago, casting long golden rays across the campus building, few of the students were scattered around the campus, you walked through the hallway which was nearly empty save for some lone students with headphones on or a book in hand, your footsteps were light but quick as you occasionally turned around to check in your surrounding. Your hands tightly clutched around your bag as you overworked your brain to map out the locker room in the building. You relaxed when you found the large 'Locker room' sign hung upon the metal rod, your eyes scanning the area nearby before entering inside. 

Few of the students were busy with their own things inside the room, none of them paying attention towards you. Your eyes scanned the area, feet moving towards the locker you were determined to find, you causally scanned the names on the lockers, totally nonchalant if anyone asked you. Your steps came to a halt when you came across the 'Park Jongseong' locker. Peeking your head at the entrance to check anyone's presence one last time, you hurriedly took out the letter you had neatly packed inside an envelope and slid it inside the locker from the small gap that was present. Your hands trembled, heartbeat erratic as you stepped away and started walking towards the cafeteria, your head hung low as you zipped your bag. 

You saw Jay pass by you with one of his band members, Heeseung, the vocalist as both of them animatedly chatted about something. Your eyes followed his features, he seemed to be far more relaxed as he laughed at something Heeseung said, that laugh almost reminded you of the night of the party. You wondered what they were doing in the campus early in the morning when your eyes landed on the new notice on the notice board along with various other banners which decorated the walls of the hallway. You stepped closer to have a clearer view of the notice displayed, Symphoria 25, the widely known college fest of your university. 

Your eyes went back to Jay and Heeseung who were now entering the locker room, their backs turned towards you. Symphoria, you'd heard a lot about the college fest, it draws in thousands of people not just from the campus but from the city and beyond. A perfect opportunity to showcase your talent and get exposure. Maybe Jay and his band had started early morning practice to perfect their art for the fest, it was inevitable that they would participate in the fest. You checked the time on your phone, you still had a good 20 minutes before your class started so you made your way back towards the locker room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jay to see if he got your letter or not. 

The hallway had started filling in with the usual chatter of students, as soon as you were about to enter the locker room you caught Jay coming out of the room and in a reckless way to avoid facing him you turned around to run in the opposite direction. But luck wasn't by your side and your leg slipped and you fell, right in front of Jay, and his friend Heeseung. "Are you okay?" You recognized Heeseung's voice as he extended his hand for you to take. A few of the students gathered to watch the commotion. Your head was hung low, and you prayed the universe to swallow you whole instead of letting you face humiliation. You held Heeseung's hand to stand up, then immediately let go and hid your face with both of your hands. 

Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding your embarrassed self quite endearing, he looked at Jay whose eyes were trained on you, a subtle frown adorning his face, lips pursed together. Jay tilted his head as he watched, you peeked from the gaps in between your fingers, head still down, your eyes caught the sight of your letter in between his fingers, the letter still sealed neatly. "Hey don't be embarrassed, things like this happen every time," you turned towards Heeseung, your hands still on your face as you nodded at his words and bolted out of the place and towards your class. 

Heeseung's eyes followed you till you turned around the corner, confusion etched upon his face like a question scribbled in a language he wasn't proficient in. He turned towards Jay, who was also looking at the direction you just ran to, his expressions blank but with a hint of curiosity behind his eyes. "I guess she was too humiliated to wait and talk, I genuinely thought she did this to have our attention," Heeseung broke the silence, making Jay look towards him. Now one would paint Heeseung as a stuck up individual after what he said, but it wasn't a regular sight for any of their band members to not have girls lining up to have a conversation with them, you'd be the first to avoid them all together. He was genuinely confused with your actions.

Your footsteps echoed off the walls of the hallway in frantic rhythm. Your hair sticking on your face and bag bouncing off your side. You reached towards your classroom door, slowing down just enough to avoid getting slammed on it. You slipped inside and scanned the room for an empty seat. Your chest raised and fell as you sat on an empty seat, you took deep breaths to look composed but the flush of your cheeks and the way your hands gripped the edge of the desk betrayed you. The professor entered the class and began the lecture but your mind drifted off towards the incident that happened back in front of the locker room. You slammed your head on the desk lightly to avoid attention, grimacing about how humiliating the incident was.

"You look tired, did you not get enough sleep?" You glanced towards Ava, who was happily munching her food while her doe eyes stared at you, "Yeah, couldn't sleep." She pouted at your words, shoving your shoulder lightly, "you should take care of yourself more, you worry me so much, you don't have anyone else other than me who takes care of you." You smiled awkwardly at her statement, internally grimacing. Her words are always sweet like honey, the kind that drips with warmth and affection until you realize what comes next, like she's trying to convince you that your light only shines when she's with you. 

Your eyes wandered towards the cafeteria door when students started talking in hushed whispered and gasp, there they stood Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon, the four members of band, HYPHENIX. Ava followed your gaze, vast smile etching on her face, "aren't they just dreamy? You think Sunghoon's single?" Your head turned towards her instinctively as her voice reached your ears, "since when are you interested in them?" You don't remember her gushing about the band before, sure they were pretty popular but Ava was too obsessed with cheer to ever focus on anything else. She just shrugged, not bothering to reply, you frowned, following her line of vision where Jay was seated with his bandmates. 

Your breath hitched when you spotted the familiar looking envelope in Jay's hand, the seal broken off, he had read the letter. Your eyes traced from his hands to his face, watching, observing, like you always do. Jake was talking about something while nudging Jay, Heeseung throwing his back as he laughed and Sunghoon just shook his head, amused by his friends. Jay smiled softly, his eyes still trained on the letter in his hands, playing with its edges gently. You haven't seen him smile like that ever since you saw him, his expressions always so distant and reserved, one would think twice before approaching him. You could tell you weren't the only person to witness it when you heard whispers around you. 

"Wow I never knew he could smile like that!", "so the icy guitarist of HYPHENIX knows how to smile?", "is that a letter in his hand? A love letter maybe?", "didn't think of him as the romantic type." 

You turned your head back towards your food when you felt Jay's gaze travel towards your table, you hid your face by keeping your palm over half of your face. "Oh my Jay's looking towards me," your eyes met Ava's as she exclaimed happily, gathering attention from a few of the students sitting nearby. More whispers started arising after her exclamation cause indeed Park Jay was looking towards your table, at who? You weren't sure. Your mind unconsciously drifted towards the time when you fell down in front of Heeseung and Jay, and you hoped he didn't remember how you looked.

"Yah Jay you keep on looking at the envelope like it will come alive and tell you who sent you this..." You were making your way towards the last class of the day when you heard Jay's name, looking up you saw the music room sign above the closed door. You walked towards the half opened window trying to listen to what they were talking about. From where you were perched up, you could see Jay's side profile, Jake standing in front of him, you could see half of Sunghoon's face and Heeseung's back, all huddled up with their respective instruments in their hands. "I really wanna know who wrote this, I mean their words hit so close, it instantly lifted his mood as soon as he read it," Heeseung followed as others nodded. Your heart skipped a beat, you stepped away from the window. They said he loved your letter, that it instantly lifted his mood. You smiled sheepishly, a new skip in your step as you made your way towards your class. 

Maybe you could continue to support him like this, silently, from afar, without the fear of getting rejected. He would be aware that there's someone who silently has his back, and you wouldn't have to worry about being the center of attention. And that's what you did, you wrote letters for him, every week. Words you couldn't say out loud found a home on paper wrapped in a plain envelope. You poured your admiration, your care, and all the quiet things you felt into the letters. You slipped them into his locker, or tucked between library books you knew he'd borrow, each note was a small piece of your heart, anonymous but sincere. You watched him smile at the words, never knowing they were yours. He would sometimes write back to you, placing his letters inside the library book he last borrowed and when he would come and check the next time, he would smile at its disappearance. He would know you got his letter when you'd mention it in your next one. And somehow, that was enough.

And the campus was big but apparently not big enough to keep your little secret in between you and him. It wasn't the letters that caught everyone's attention, it was him. Jay had always been stoic, guarded, the kind of person who kept people at arm's length, never too close but lately that shifted. He smiled more, his posture relaxed, he didn't shoot anyone with his icy glare for merely talking with him. He lingered longer near his locker, reading something in his hands. His bandmates noticed the recurrence of the letters first then few of his admirers. Questions flooded in their minds, was the guitarist of HYPHENIX finally seeing someone? Who would be the lucky person to capture the heart of someone who never showed interest in dating? And If he was getting interested in someone then who's this mystery person?

And then one afternoon, someone overheard Jay talking with Sunghoon, his voice low as he murmured something along the lines of, "I received yet another letter today, they just know what to say to make my heart skip a bit." Hushed conversations between close friends, fell upon wrong ears and soon enough the campus buzzed with new gossip about this secret admirer of Jay. The talk wasn't about Jay anymore, they were more about what made Jay change, about the anonymous person who poured their heart out on the letters, about how the coldest guy on the campus might have someone who has enough warmth that melts his walls. And how maybe, just maybe, he was starting to care about those letters more. 

With each letter you wrote, your feelings for him kept on getting more intense and with all the gossip surrounding you about your own letters you wondered how Jay would react if he ever found out who was behind those letters. It didn't help that Ava seemed to be getting more interested in Jay's love life than focusing on her cheerleading auditions. You had to constantly hear her gush about this mystery admirer of Jay and how an anonymous person was getting more recognition than she ever could even if she tried her best. "Popularity shouldn't be your goal, being good at what you do should be!" You remember explaining this to her when she kept on complaining about how privileged the popular people are with everything. 

She wasn't wrong entirely, everything around the campus depended upon how good you were with something and ultimately how much audience you bought with it. Maybe she wasn't wrong about not getting into cheerleading yet because she wasn't famous enough to make the cut and not because she was just decent enough for the sport. Ava is attractive, has friends from every block of the campus, yet she somehow always sticks to you. She goes to parties, easily becomes the center of the room but somehow it's not enough, it's never enough. There's always someone who is prettier, more talented, more popular who steals her show and you get her. Perhaps that's the reason you let her guide and lead your university life instead of trying and failing to meet new people who would befriend you. 

For the next few weeks when you walked down your campus, every corner was slowly transformed into a living stage. The air surrounding last-minute rehearsals, buzz of sound checks vibrating against your ear drums, every corner of the university was filled with excitement. Symphoria wasn't just a college fest, it was an emotion, a movement held towards rising artists and their talents. By day the fest was filled with different stalls, and artists showcasing their raw talents to sharpen it for the night show. By the time the night arrives, the main stage would come alive with performances that shake the ground. You were excited to attend the last show of the fest as it was the night HYPHENIX would perform, the most talked about and most awaited performance of the whole fest. 

You made your way towards the locker room early in the morning to place the letter inside for Jay to read before his performance. This time though, you had bought a little bouquet of red roses to cheer him up a little with a note that is addressed to him in case someone else misplaced it. You couldn't open his locker enough to put the flowers inside so you decided to keep it above the locker. You walked out of the locker room before anyone could see you, leaving letters inside his locker had gotten a bit difficult with all the attention from the campus. Yet you woke up extra early to not get caught and cheer Jay up for his performance. 

You made your way towards the library to finish the rest of your assignments, dropping a message to Ava about meeting you in the cafeteria during lunch. You sat down, opening your laptop to get started. The library was relatively empty, not many students were in the mood to study when there's literal fest going on around the campus. You wondered if Jay will even have time to open his locker today, you heard they had been practicing extra hard for this performance. Lunch time rolled around but Ava still didn't reply to your text, you tried calling but no answer so you ate alone. You made your way towards the locker room to check on the flowers and letters, when you reached there was none, it made you smile at the thought that he received it before his performance just how you wanted. 

The evening started off with a blast, you made your way near the left side of the main stage. You look around to find Ava in the crowd and even send a few messages of your location in case she decides to find you. You frowned at her behavior, she was so excited to attend today's show, some of her favorite people were performing, not to forget her constantly ranting about being excited to watch HYPHENIX's performance. They were the last act to perform, everyone from the campus gathered around to watch you with banners in their hands. You crane your head to see if they are coming. 

They walked on the stage, your eyes landed on Jay and suddenly the crowd didn't matter. They got in their position, the noise faded, the lights dimmed around everyone else but them and you stood frozen in your spot, eyes never leaving his silhouettes. Heeseung led up to the mic, the crowd erupted, waves of cheers and reckless energy filled up the air, but your eyes were locked on Jay. Jake, the drummer chimed in and suddenly the world was nothing but sound. Jay's guitar and Sunghoon's keyboard roared to life, drums thundered beneath your feet, and the music hit you like a memory you didn't know you'd been holding onto. It wasn't just some random noise pieced together, it was emotion, pouring from the stage and crashing into you like fire and rain.

You watched them, the way their fingers moved on their instruments, how Heeseung's voice danced a high note, how they closed their eyes like the song was something they felt, not just performed and in that moment, it felt personal like somehow, they were singing straight to you. The lights flashed on the stage, the chorus soared. People around you screamed and swayed, but you stood still, like you were spellbound. It was more than music. It was a moment you didn't want to end and in that moment, nothing existed but the stage, the sound, and the feeling of you falling deeper and deeper for Jay. 

You felt a wave of emotion so overwhelming that tears strung in your eyes, their performance ended and they bid their goodbyes. The crowd cheered, you were sure they would be the talk of campus if not city for a whole year. Jay looked happy as he made his way backstage and before you could think your feet led you towards the back of the stage to catch a glimpse of him, it was one of the important parts of his musical career after all, you could at least muster up the courage to congratulate him. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be bad to introduce yourself into his life as someone he once met at a random high school party. You were about to enter backstage when a volunteer bumped into you, all the papers in his hands flying everywhere. You managed to apologize to him as you helped him with the papers but your eyes were somewhere else, in search of a person you couldn't get a hold of. 

You made your way deeper into the back of the stage, volunteers and performers going on about their works. You located Jake and Sunghoon at the far corner of the stage, Heeseung sitting close beside as they wore brightest smiles and talked with each other about something. You tried finding Jay, your heart beating fast as you tried finding someone who would tell you about his whereabouts. "Uh-hello, do you know where Jay went? The guitarist from HYPHENIX?" The girl randomly pointed towards the exit of the backstage, you thanked her before following the direction she gave. As soon as you were out of the door, the coolness of the night air made you shiver. 

Your footsteps slowed, the moonlight casted a soft glow on your face, yet it was still relatively dark. You took a step forward, then another, then you heard voices, familiar and close. Your steps halted when you caught two silhouettes standing close to each other, then your world stopped. One second they were talking, Jay and Ava, the next second his hands were on her neck, pulling her close. Ava stepped forward, her hands reaching for his shirt to stabilize herself. Your hands didn't drop your phone, but it slipped a little in your grip as your breath stilled. A sharp pain sliced in your chest, the silence of the surroundings more louder than the ringing in your ears. 

It felt like someone pierced their hand in your heart and squeezed it without any care, like your soul has been ripped apart without any warning. You felt the kind of pain that didn't echo, it throbbed in your chest, deep and ugly. You blinked once, twice, then again for good measure, hoping and praying this was just an illusion, a misunderstanding but it wasn't. It was real. Jay and Ava, kissing each other like the world around them didn't exist anymore. You stood there, watching him hold her like he's afraid if she let go she'll disappear. Your eyes landed on the bouquet of red roses in Jay's hand, the one you brought for him, confusion and hurt etched upon your face, unable to comprehend anything.

Neither of them noticed your presence, they didn't see the way your hands trembled and how your lips parted slightly like your body was trying to breathe through the ache in your heart. They didn't see the way your eyes glossed over with a kind of hurt you knew would take years to heal. You took a step back, suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, the distant sound of people leaving the campus, the humid air, the floor beneath your shoes. You turned around, mind still hazy, eyes unfocused, you stepped on an empty water bottle. Then you hear a soft call of your name, you shut your eyes closed as if it would somehow help you disappear from the unwanted moment you tried to avoid. You heard footsteps coming closer and decided you couldn't possibly excuse your way out of this uncomfortable situation so you took a deep breath and turned back around. 

Your eyes landed on Jay before they could even acknowledge Ava, he tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. Ava's voice broke your attention from him, she made her way towards you, her arms enveloping one of yours as she beamed at Jay. "This is my best friend Jay," He smiled in your direction, your heart skipped a bit and Ava continued while looking at you, "I told him the truth, that I wrote those letters for him, I couldn't help myself from confessing to him after today's performance, you are proud of me right? I finally got the love of my life." You never once broke your gaze away from Jay as you listened to Ava go on and on about something which you both know she didn't do. You silently listened to her take the credit for the things you did, Jay's smile was wide as he looked at Ava and just like that you couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth.

"Let me drive you both home, it's too late to go by yourself." You sucked in a breath, your head turned towards Ava who nodded enthusiastically at Jay's suggestion. "I'll manage to go by myself, I don't really live too far," Jay shook his head at your words, "It's my responsibility to take care of my girlfriend's loved ones, wouldn't dream of getting on your bad side." Ava chuckled at Jay's words as she leaned against his arms, his own hands slipping on her shoulder pulling her close. You felt like throwing up, you needed answers. Jay pulled out his phone to inform his band members that he'll be leaving first and joining them later. 

Reluctantly you agreed with Jay after Ava forced you to say yes and now you were seated in the back of Jay's car as you watched him act lovey-dovey with his supposed secret admirer. Ava's home arrived first and Jay got off to kiss her goodbye, you sighed, lending your head on the window wondering how you were supposed to get through with this. Jay entered the car, you were still sitting on the backseat. He eyed you from the rearview, "I think I've seen you before." You looked at Jay when you heard his voice, contemplating on whether to tell him that he did see you before or not, "well, we go to the same campus...." You trailed off softly, not really minding if he could hear your answer or not, your mind was haywire with everything that happened today anyway. 

Jay took one last look at you before shaking his head, chuckling lightly and agreeing with your words. You sent a quick text to Ava about wanting to have a talk with her about the stunt she pulled and she replied she'll tell you tomorrow. You felt the car come to a halt and you straightened up, eyes taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment, you thanked Jay but he stopped you. He got out of the car and towards your door and opened it, "you don't have to do all this, Jay." But you smiled at his sweet gesture regardless and got out of his car. He bid you goodbye and went off as you watched his car retrieve from your apartment's parking lot. 

You couldn't sleep the whole night, mind racing with all sorts of things. The sight of them kissing each other playing in front of your eyes like a mere flashback from a dream you wish you never had, cruelly brought to life. You tossed and turned in your bed, but neither the tears stopped nor did the hollow feeling creeping up your chest. You decided you can't take it anymore, your fingers tapping on Ava's number before you could think. It was late at night, her parents were probably asleep but they always had a soft spot for you. She picked up the phone on the last ring, her voice groggy. 

"What are you trying to do? We both know you didn't write those letters..." you heard some shuffling from her end, "right I didn't, but who cares?" You frowned at her nonchalant answer, "the one who wrote the letter might come forward and expose you Ava, it won't end well for you, did you not hear how Jay is?" She groaned at your words, "well if the person was brave enough they wouldn't have pulled this secret admirer shit, I need Jay to get in the cheer team, this is my chance." You sighed, rubbing your forehead as it had started aching, "your relationship is based on lies Ava, it won't do you good, trust me. You're hurting someone else while trying to reach your goals-" 

"Don't nag at me, I've already taken the leap so there's no going back, I like Jay and I want to be with him so let it go...just for once, for me, let it go please..." you sighed but stayed silent wondering if you were strong enough to watch Jay be with Ava when she clearly was using him just to gain popularity while pretending to be you, Ava continued when she didn't hear anything from your side, "I'm your best friend, I never asked you to do anything for me, please ignore what I did just this once, I'll treat him right I swear." You cut the call after talking to her for some more time, things got messier than they were supposed to be, and you wondered how things will unfold from now on. 

Earlier attending university was something you looked forward to as the constant chattering of students, the latest gossip, the various events and classes helped you ignore how lonely you actually were. But now everywhere you go, there is at least one person talking about the perfect couple Ava and Jay. You tried your best to ignore but you couldn't as Ava started gaining popularity now that Jay won't leave her side whenever he isn't with his bandmates. And you, despite wanting to lay low and finish your degree quietly, were unwillingly dragged into the Ava-Jay love drama since you were her so-called best friend. 

Being best friend of not so famous Ava was hard, but being her best friend after she got famous was harder. People randomly started approaching you to gain latest information about their relationship or how they behave out of the campus. They bombarded you with questions about Ava and what she liked and disliked, like you were some kind of assistant they could get information from. It was annoying, and downright disrespectful. You never wanted the spotlight but even if you did, you knew you wouldn't be happy by being labelled as someone's girlfriend's best friend. It was inconvenient at first, then it became blatantly dehumanizing when people started suggesting Ava to be with someone of her 'level' that you were just some charity case of a friend for her. What hurt you the most was Ava's reactions to those things, she just laughed with them, like she couldn't see how disrespectful people were towards you. So naturally you tried your best to ignore her and her 'well-wishers' all together. 

"Come on, don't be like that! Jay has told me to make sure you'll be present at the celebration party of their successful performance at the college fest, you know how big of a deal it is for him and his friends," you continued typing your essay as Ava sat on the edge of your bed, begging you to attend the party. "I'll see if I can go...I'm not sure though..." she stomped her feet as she made her way towards your desk, hands sliding into yours to get your attention on her, "please? We haven't spent time together since so long," you sighed, releasing her hold from your hand, "it's because you're always so busy with your cheer, or Jay, or your new friends and not because I don't have time for you." 

"It's not like that, you don't like being around people, I can't always cater to your needs right? You should be considerate towards me too, you're so mean," you close your laptop after saving your document and look at her as she begins gathering her things. "I didn't mean it like that Ava-" "I'll give you space, you don't seem to be in a good mood, think about your decision, I'll wait for you at the party and if you won't come I won't go either." You opened your mouth to say something but she was already out of the door. You put your head in your hands as you pulled at your hair, deciding sleeping would be best for now since you had class in early morning. 

Attending early morning class felt like stepping into a world half-asleep. Your brain lagged behind as the professor went on and on about topics you were too tired to pay attention to. One of your hands grip on the coffee cup like your life depends on it and other drawing doodles on the margins of the notebook you had opened to take notes. Your eyes hurt and stifle a yawn, thanking the universe when the professor concludes the class. You check your schedule, there's still a 30 minute gap before your next, maybe you could get a refill of your coffee to go on about your day. You smiled to yourself when you stepped out of the class, feeling accomplished that you managed to survive the morning class as you made your way towards the cafe near your university for your daily dose of coffee. 

"Hey!" You turned around halfway through the campus when you heard someone call out to you, "in a rush?" Jay waved at you as he made his way towards you, his guitar slung over one shoulder, his smile was easy-going as he finally stopped right in front of you. Sweat formed in your hands as you gulped, "you need something from me? I haven't heard from Ava since yesterday so I don't know where she is..." He laughed slightly, motioning you to continue your walk as he stepped beside you, "no, I'm not here to ask you about Ava, though I know I used to do that a lot but I'm here to talk with you about something else." You looked at him then immediately looked forward because how can you be this close to him and act sane? You adjusted your glasses on your face in nervousness. 

"Then what are you here for?" He looked at you, biting his lips in thought and you tore your eyes away to not stare for too long. "For the party...." you halted your steps when you reached the cafe, Jay opened the door and held it for you. You meekly thanked him before entering the cafe, "what about it?" Jay ordered his coffee and you ordered yours, he paid for both the drinks before you could even open your bag to get your purse. "After our performance at Symphoria, we've got quite a few gigs and events to perform at, not to forget it's the day Ava finally confessed to me about writing those letters," you suck in your breath as both of you made your way out of the cafe and back into the university's campus. 

He continued, "those letters have helped me a lot, I was going through a tough time but they helped me so much, and they also inspired us to deliver that performance at the fest. So the success of that performance means a lot to my bandmates, me and Ava alike, and since you're her best friend, I need you to be a part of it." He took a few strides forward and turned towards you making you stop your walk, "please? Attend it for me?" You sighed, attend it for Jay? Now you could do that, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to watch them without losing your sanity. "I'm not a party person, Jay and it doesn't help that Ava has other friends to be with, she won't always be by my side and I don't want to hold her back.." 

He shook his head dismissing your words before you could elaborate further on how pathetic you'd look trying to enjoy the party alone, a party you don't even want to be at, "I'll be by your side then, all throughout the party hm? I'll make sure you won't feel lonely, I promise." He held out his pinky finger in front of you and if you were being honest he looked so silly you wished you could click a picture but you just sighed, eyes switching from his hands to his face, he looked at you expectantly, "I take pinky promises seriously," the corners of your lips twitched a little as you raised your hand to lock your pinky finger with his. He pulled you close, grinning widely, "thank you for coming, Ava and I would love to have you there," he ruffled your hair before jogging off towards the university's music room. 

You faced the mirror, one last time, running your fingers through your hair, you opened your phone, Jay's and Ava's messages lying one above the other, both reminding you to not forget about the party. You fixed your glasses, a hint of irritation seeping in your features as you scanned your reflection, if you ditched your glasses for looks then you won't be able to enjoy the party in HD, but the glasses made you look like the loser you always need to read about in your books. You huffed a breath, reminding yourself about your no more stereotyping rule, your phone started buzzing. You looked at the caller ID, Ava. 

"Hey!" You put your phone away from your ear to recheck the called ID, still Ava, "hello?" You questioned as you chew on your lips, "it's me Jay...Ava's phone was in my hand so I called you from her phone, I asked Sunghoon to pick you up from your apartment and I think he would reach in 10 minutes or so, I just called to inform you that.." you heartbeat quickened after hearing Jay's voice, then you registered the words that left his mouth, "Sunghoon? In 10 minutes? I could've taken a cab, he didn't have to leave the party for me, I feel bad." You could hear the music blasting in the background and you wondered if he could even hear you, "nah, I wanted to come pick you up myself since I invited you but my hands are full right now so I asked Sunghoon, and I don't want you to travel alone in the dark, it's not safe out there. See you soon, Ava and I are waiting for you." 

You stood in front of your apartment building awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for Sunghoon's car to pull up. He didn't take much time, arriving fairly on time. He got out of his seat, his height making you take a few steps back so you don't have to hurt your neck while talking to him. He gave you a smile, his eyes landing on your heel-cladded feet before they locked once again with your eyes. You subconsciously tuck your hair behind your ear, blushing up your cheeks under his intense gaze. He offered you his hand, and you held it after looking at it for two seconds too long. He led you towards the passenger's seat, opened the door and guided you inside the car. You thanked him, a giddy smile plastered on your face as you reminded yourself that this was the supposed bare minimum, but then your thoughts went back to the same high school party where your then boyfriend didn't even look at you, much less open doors for you. 

Sunghoon's car reflected his personality, sleek, dark, and polished to perfection. The smell of leather seats of the car mixed with a faint scent of his cologne, and music turned low enough to barely register. You fasten your seatbelt and watch him start the car from your peripheral vision. He didn't say much, and from the time you've noticed him you realized he wasn't a man for many words but whenever he did speak, the attention would be on him. You let yourself relax on the seat and he glanced at your movements briefly. "Thank you for picking me up, you didn't have to, but thank you regardless," You saw him shake his head at your words, a small, barely visible smile dancing on his lips, "it's fine, wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to travel alone at night." You choked on the air, shocked at his words, he laughed loudly, his fang-like teeth showing just enough to make you question if he was just teasing or being serious. 

"You're teasing me, didn't think of you as a type to do that," He looked at your pouty face briefly before his attention went back onto the road, "you're easier to tease somehow, but I wasn't teasing when I said you're pretty." He didn't look at you to see your reaction, but your eyes were trained on his profile. His skin was pale, smooth like porcelain under the car's light, his lips full and precise, there was a cold grace to him, and even when he said nothing, he seemed to speak in presence, posture poised, expression unreadable, a flick of his gaze enough to silence a room. He got out of the car when he reached Jay's apartment where the party was in full blast, he helped you get out of the car and led you towards the main door of Jay's house.

"This place feels familiar," you mutter under your breath, Sunghoon looks at you, his head tilted in your direction, leaning in slightly to hear you better over the gradually increasing noise of music blasting through the speakers as you walk. You shake your head at him, laughing awkwardly as you try to figure out the weird feeling in your stomach. The door bursts open even before Sunghoon's hand stretches enough to open it for you, and your breath is knocked off as Jay stands in front of you, an easy going smile etched upon his face. "I'm glad you're here..." he smiles so bright that it's almost impossible to not mirror his smile, like he's genuinely glad you're there to celebrate. "I had to be," your eyes wander off towards Sunghoon who is now standing beside Jay, leaning on the doorframe watching you two, "you left me with little choices to make." 

Sunghoon lightly chuckled as those words left your mouth, shaking his lightly at your silent jab at Jay's stubborn behavior he made his way inside the house, leaving you standing alone with Jay. "Where's Ava?" You questioned when you didn't find her waiting for you beside Jay, he sighed, head turning back to look towards the ongoing party, "she must be somewhere, I still have her phone on me, but she's nowhere to be found." You frowned hearing his statement and he quickly made space for you to enter the party, "she gets like that after drinking, she wanders off and suddenly you lose track of her." Jay chuckled at your response still his eyes scanned to room for his girlfriend's presence. 

"Jay?" You softly called him, he hummed in return leaning slightly towards you to hear you better. You held your breath as you looked at him, his eyes still wandering across the room to find Ava but then slowly his eyes turned towards you, your lips twitched when his eyes locked in with yours and you gulped before continuing, "go find her, you don't really have to be by my side all night." Jay chuckled at your words, straightening up, he hooked his index finger on the bracelet of your wrist, "well you don't have anything else to do so please help me find my beloved girlfriend," and he pulled you with him into the crowd. 

You take in the scene, you spot some familiar faces in the crowd, laughing, drinking, talking with each other. Your heels tap against the floor and you walk exactly behind Jay as he makes room for both of you to walk. The lights flicker in bursts of neon, casting an exciting glow on the crowd. The buzz of conversations rise and fall, people too drunk or too indulgent in the mood to care about the surroundings. You catch a glimpse of Jake talking with some people, beside him Sunghoon and Heeseung are involved in deep conversation about something only they know. Your eyes fall upon where Jay's finger is hooked upon your bracelet, a sigh leaves your lips and in a moment of distraction your shoulder bumps into someone and you lose your balance slightly. 

You hold onto Jay's shoulder with one hand to regain your balance and he stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing towards the person you stumbled into, "try to look where you are going next time." The person just waves his hand, mumbling apologies incoherently as he backs off towards the opposite direction. You feel Jay's hand curl around your wrist, firmly and when you lift your head up, he's already looking at you. "You walk in front of me now, you're wearing heels, if you sprain your leg it will hurt like a bitch." You laugh slightly at his tone, his hand pulling you gently towards him and he positions himself right behind you. He's still holding your wrist, his other hand giving your shoulder a slight push to get you walking. 

He's so close behind, you could faintly feel his breath on your shoulder. Your eyes scan for your best friend and you turn around towards Jay when you spot her sitting in a corner with few people, drinking happily and laughing with her whole body, "she's there, I think you should get her, I'll get something to drink for myself in the kitchen." Jay's eyes follow the path your finger is pointed at, he sighed in relief, nodding in your direction and making his way towards her. You don't have the courage to watch him go towards her so you make your way inside the kitchen, your hand tracing the spot which Jay held not too long ago. You poured yourself some soft drink, not really in the mood to drink just yet.

"Are you a baby?" You flinched slightly, turning to your side only to find Sunghoon leaning against the counter not too far from you as he poured himself a drink. Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, he looks at you, slowly making his way close to you, "only babies drink soft drinks." You roll your eyes, free hand fixing your glasses. He chuckled lightly, amused at your behavior. "I'm not a baby Mr. Park," he laughed loudly, "that's exactly what a baby would say, your pouty lips and puffed up cheeks aren't helping your case pretty." You immediately straightened up, lips pursed and face blank as you gave him a deadpan look, "I'm not a baby..." He turned around towards the counter, he mixed a few drinks from the table and slided the red solo up towards you. 

"You don't seem like a type to drink frequently but trust me with this one, my friends say I'm quite good with drinks." You throw him a suspicious look, hand curling around the cup, you bring it closer to your face to inspect. "What are you both ?" Your head snapped towards the voice, Jay and Ava joining you two as Sunghoon settled beside you, his drink already half empty. "I'm trying to get her to loosen up a bit, she's always so tense." Jay's eyes narrow at his friend's words, "you don't have to drink if you don't want to," You shake your head at Jay's words and you're about to reply when Ava cuts you off, "oh my god! I've tried to get her to start drinking but she always declines me," then her eyes fall upon Sunghoon, a faint smirk forming on her lips.

"I literally made this in front of her, will you try it for me pretty? Just a taste, you won't have to continue to drink it if you don't like it." Ava's smile fell as soon as Sunghoon's attention shifted from her to you, his eyes soft as he looked at you expectantly. Jay sighed from where he was standing, his hand sliding across Ava's waist as he leaned his weight slightly on her, "Sunghoon, if she's not comfortable-" Sunghoon's hand reached forward towards your hand, which was sporting the red solo cup, he gently curled his fingers around your hand and brought the cup towards his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you as he took a sip from your cup, "there, I'm alive, now your turn, just a sip pretty." 

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding, fingers trembling slightly under Sunghoon's. You brought the cup near you, eyes darting around the other three before you took a tentative sip from the drink. Your eyes widened, a smirk forming on Sunghoon's face, "it'd good right?" You nodded your head with more enthusiasm than you initially wanted to show. Sunghoon laughed, releasing his hold from your hand, eyes falling upon the couple in front of him with smug confidence, "I told ya I'm good at it." Jay gave you a small smile, "you sure you like it?" You nodded your head again, taking yet another sip from the cup and gulping down the whole drink. Sunghoon whistled slowly, feeling proud of himself. 

Ava looked at you, "you never drink when I offer...you're so rude and mean to me." Jay sighed pulling her closer, "some people need guidance during their first drinks baby, Sunghoon is good at that. It's not about her being mean to you." From where you stood, you could tell Ava wanted this conversation to go like it did with other people, with them agreeing to every word that spilled from her cherry lips, "want me to make you another one?" You tore your eyes away from Ava and turned towards Sunghoon, "please? This is the first time I'm actually enjoying a drink." And just like that, the night stretched ahead, you smiled to yourself, anticipation settling deep inside you for the night. 

"You're tipsy, how many drinks did you have?" You were perched upon the balcony, looking over people who were playing in the pool and around it when Ava's voice cut through the silence. You hummed, standing up and leaning against the railings to have a good look at Jay's house. Your eyes trailed towards the other side of his backyard where people were roaming around, casually. "Is that a gazebo?" You muttered to yourself, leaning in more, squinting your eyes, your glasses slipping off a little. "You're going to fall down if you keep on leaning on the railings like that," you looked down towards the ground, Jay waving off his hand to signal you to back off a little. 

"I won't fall," you yelled back, laughing as you fixed your glasses back. Jay shook his head, one hand on his hips while the other massaged his temple, "come down, bring Ava with you." You pouted at his words but still stepped back, holding Ava's hand in yours, you dragged her towards the pool. "Hello ladies, wanna go for a swim?" You smiled at Jake when he approached you both, you released Ava's hand when Jay stood by her side. "Don't wanna," Ava whined as Jay tried to persuade her to join. You looked away, smiling at Jake as you swayed a little, he chuckled at your dazed out state and offered his hand for you to hold. "I'm good though, I don't need your support, but since you're being so nice and offering me your help, I'll take it." Jake laughed as he guided you towards the edge of the pool.

Heeseung joined you and Jake, offering you water, "you wanna go for a swim?" You denied Heeseung's suggestion, eyes looking at the pool as you pouted, "I can't swim." Jake mimicked your expressions, but he looked like a kicked puppy more than a sulky one. You laughed, stepping forward and pinching his cheeks, "you're cute Jake." His eyes widened at your actions before turning into an icy glare when Heeseung slumped forward trying to control his laughter. Jay, Ava and Sunghoon joined you three as the boys teased Jake and occasionally your non swimmer self. You felt at ease, you were expecting to be crying in your apartment by now but you were glad it wasn't like that. None of Jay's friends left you alone, each sharing some moments with you. And by spending your time with them you realized why they are so likeable.

You were sitting on one of the chairs by the pool, Ava still beside you. The boys were already playing in the pool, your eyes drifted towards Sunghoon and Heeseung who were now seated on the opposite edge of the pool making fun of Jake who was now being chased by Jay for trying to drown him. Sunghoon's eyes locked with yours and his lips moved to say something, in your own haze you couldn't comprehend what he was trying to say so you got up, edging closer towards the pool, "what did you say?" Sunghoon laughed at your confused self and you pouted. He opened his mouth to repeat what he said when you felt a pair of hands press hard against your back. 

Your heart stuttered, feet losing contact with the ground. Your confusion quickly turned into terror and the next thing you knew, your body hit the water. The water was colder than you expected, it swallowed you whole. The noises of the surrounding vanished, replied by a deafening silence. Your hands flailed, legs kicking in panic. Your lungs felt like they were going to collapse, your mouth filled with the taste of chlorine and fear. A pair of arms circled around your waist, pulling your body towards the surface. You gasped as you were finally able to breathe, your chest aching. Someone took off your glasses from your face, your hands grabbing onto the person's shoulder like you were afraid they would let go. 

You felt someone else chiming in to help, pushing you on the edge as few people surrounded you. Your vision slightly blurry as you tried to ground yourself, "Ava are you crazy? Why would you push your own best friend into the pool when you clearly know she can't swim?" You were sure that it was Sunghoon who yelled at Ava for her reckless behavior, your head turned towards your left to see Jay by your side, one of his hands was cradling your head while the other removed hair from your face. You turner your head towards the right where Sunghoon was still going off on Ava, her shoulders slumped as she tried to reason out, "I thought it would be fun-"

"Fun?" Ava's eyes turned towards you, her eyes widening at Jay's sharp tone. He helped you sit up straight, Jake crouching beside you to wrap you in a towel. You shivered, because of the water or Jay's expression, you didn't know. Jay helped you get up and sit down on the chair, your legs trembling slightly. His hand slipped around your waist. "Is this your idea of fun, Ava? She could've gotten into serious trouble if I wasn't swimming near her." You looked at her, wishing to find remorse in her eyes but all you saw was humiliation and anger as she glared at you. She turned around, making her way back into the house.

"I'm so sorry about that, you aren't hurt right?" You shook your head, lips trembling slightly, "I'm fine, just a little shock that's it." Jay nodded at your words, sighing as he took in his surroundings. "You guys go enjoy the party inside, I'll take care of this." He motioned Jake, Heeseung and Sunghoon to lead the crowd back inside. "Take care of yourself, yeah?" Sunghoon requested before going back inside with everyone else. "You aren't responsible for her actions, plus she didn't mean to do it in the wrong way, she's always been like that..." Jay's eyes snapped towards you in lightning speed, "that still doesn't mean what she did was right, you could've gotten seriously hurt." 

You shivered again when the wind passed by you, your head was starting to spin. "I'll bring you some dried clothes, you'll catch fever otherwise," You nodded at his words, your chest and throat aching. Jay lifted your face with his hand on your chin, your breath hitched at the proximity. He slipped on your glasses, adjusting it on your face for you. "Thank you," you mumbled, not daring to say it louder, "I can see you clearly now." Jay laughed, losing his balance on the chair, you extended your hand and he happily grabbed it to balance himself. "I'm glad you can see me now." You laughed with him, amused by everything that unfolded in today's party. 

You were perched on the bench beneath the tree on the university's campus. Scrolling through your phone in search of something to distract you while you wait for your next class to start. You looked up at the tree above you, its green leaves falling upon you inconveniently. You packed your belongings back in your bag, pocketed your phone and remembered you had to borrow some books from the library for research purposes. "You seem to be so at peace after wreaking havoc in my life," you turned towards the source of voice, frowning at the way Ava walked towards you, eyes scrutinizing your presence. "What are you saying?"

"The pool wasn't even that deep, Jay and his friends were swimming in it just fine, why did you have to overreact like that, do you even know how much Jay has been lecturing me about that incident?" Ava huffed as she reached near you, crossing her arms and waiting for your reply as if you were a murderer waiting for your conviction. "They could swim just fine because they knew how to swim, if that's your logic why didn't you jump in the pool? You also don't know how to swim right?" Her expression flattered, hands going on her hips as she scoffed at your words, "you know I care about you, I didn't do it because I wanted to harm you, yet I'm the bad guy here, how would I know you'd end up like that?" 

You rolled your eyes at her words, but the slight pity in your heart for her was overpowering your senses, "why would you even push me there in the first place?" She stomped her leg, pouting at you as if you denied her favorite candy, "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, tell Jay and his friends that you forgave me okay? Bye." You opened your mouth to say something but she was already walking away from you. Finding the boys wasn't very hard considering they spent most of their free time in the music room. You took in a deep breath before you knocked on the door. You pushed open the door, peeking in to see if it was occupied, Jake was the first person your eyes landed on, beside him sat Heeseung, both of them pausing mid-discussion. Sunghoon sat a few feet away, hands on his keyboard and beside him sat Jay, his guitar on his lap.

You stood at the doorway, not exactly sure why you even decided to entertain Ava's idea but you did it, so she won't have another reason to whine at you and also because you wanted to have some reason to be near Jay, even for a while. "Don't stand there looking like a lost puppy, you planning on coming in?" Your internal monologue ended quickly as Heeseung words rang in your ears. You awkwardly shuffled inside, closing the door behind. "Um-" You started, internally criticising yourself for not thinking through before you entered. Your eyes wandered towards the boys sitting in the room, four pairs of eyes, all focused towards you. 

"Come sit here pretty," blush rose upon your cheeks as Sunghoon pointed towards the empty chair beside Jay, you nodded sheepishly, and made yourself comfortable. You were about to start saying something when your eyes landed on them, everyone just went back on doing what they were doing previously like you weren't present there at all, your brows furrowed in confusion and you wondered if you should say what you wanted to say or just slip out of the room. "Guys-" And just like that, everyone's attention was back on you, "yeah?" Jake urged you to continue and you shifted in your seat to turn towards Jay.

"I just wanted to say that the pool incident wasn't that big of a deal, things like that happen when you're trying to play pranks with your friends anyway," you laughed awkwardly, "I don't want you to be upset with Ava because of that." There was a brief moment of silence after you finished what you wanted to say, the silent stretching long enough for you to start rambling again, "she's a very good friend, she has always been by my side when I had no one, she can be a bit childish at times but she's sweet at heart-" "Are you trying to tell that to us or yourself pretty?" 

"You, ofcourse." You answered quickly, but fidgeting with your hands was a dead giveaway of your real feelings. Jay put his guitar at his side, sighing once before turning to look at you, "did Ava ask you to do this?" You shook your head no, one hand raising to fix your glasses in place. "I saw you talking with her-" "Oh my God, you did?" "I was lying but you busted your own lie with this one." Your shoulders slumped in defeat, "okay maybe I did come to you because she told me but I was about to do that regardless." You blinked at them, smiling and waiting for them to say something, "you wounded me, we thought you wanted to hangout with us." Your eyes widened at Jake's words, "why would I want to hang out with you guys?"

Heeseung's hand clutched his heart, slouching forward as if it physically pained him to hear that sentence leave your mouth, Jake's hands flew on his mouth, Jay had an amused grin on his face and Sunghoon just smirked, "I'm sorry we aren't cool enough for you to hangout with us pretty.." he laughed watching color drain off your face. "No, it's not like that- I mean- wait you guys- you're twisting the plot, I'm not Regina George!" You sulked slightly, crossing your arms as you watched them topple over laughing at your panicked state, "I just wanted to say that I did not think you guys would want to hang out, since you know...we aren't close, I'm just Ava's best friend."

"You could be my best friend if you want," Jake smiled, throwing an exaggerated wink in your direction, you laugh as he threw his finger hearts. "Seriously though, you're not just Ava's best friend, you're fun on your own okay? Why wouldn't we want to hang out with you, we literally let you in the music room without further interrogating you!" A genuine smile tugged at your face at Heeseung's words, which stretched into a full blown grin when the others nodded their heads in agreement. "And what Ava did was wrong, and she should have apologized to you then and there but she didn't, which was again, very wrong of her." You couldn't bring yourself to deny Sunghoon's words.

Your eyes fell upon Jay who was silent all through this portion of conversation, he sat still, eyes unfocused as he stared ahead, his brows furrowed. You could tell he was listening but had his mind somewhere else, "Jay?" Your soft voice brought him back from his thoughts, he looked into your eyes, "Let's just move past this, guys..." and no one could bring themselves to debate with you further. "It's my birthday in two weeks, we're planning a trip, I was hoping you'll join us.." You pointed your index finger towards yourself, as if anyone inviting you for their birthday was something you had only thought of in your luxury dreams list, Sunghoon gave you a deadpan look, "who else?" Yeah that gave you the answer you were looking for. 

The trip to Jay's birthday arrived more quickly than you could decipher. Jake informed you that the trip was more like a staycation on Jay's vacation home, from the moment you arrived at Jay's vacation home you knew you've stepped into something exquisite. The gated driveway winds through lush green gardens until the villa reveals itself, the sleek architecture, coastal elegance and everything about it screams luxury. As Jay pushed open the grand double doors, you're greeted by high vaulted ceilings, polished marble floors, and floor-to-ceiling glass panels that blur the line between indoors and the shimmering ocean beyond, you could hear Ava gasp from where she was standing beside you, Heeseung just chuckled, nudging you to go forward. 

The scent of the ocean lingered in the air, and Jay informed everyone about their sleeping arrangements. "Everyone gets their own room?" Jake chuckled at your bewildered, stepping closer to help you put the luggage in your room. You made your way through the open-living room plan towards the first floor where your room would be. You, Heeseung and Sunghoon would be sleeping on the first floor whilst Jake, Jay and Ava would be on the ground floor. When everyone was done checking out the interior, your footsteps took you towards the exterior of the house, where the real magic lied. 

A pathway of natural stone leads directly to the secluded beach. The sand is soft, untouched and the water crystal clear. There was not a single soul in sight, only the rhythmic lull of waves and the occasional cry of a distant seagull. "Wow, baby! This is literal heaven," your eyes wandered towards Ava who was now clinging onto Jay's arms like he would disappear if she let go. He smiled back at her, ruffling her hair as he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. You looked away, towards the beach where waves crashed into the shore in a gentle kiss. Your chest tightened, a small frown appearing on your face unintentionally. "You good pretty?" Sunghoon nudged your shoulders with his, his gaze trained towards the serene beauty in front of his eyes. "Yes I am-" "Let's see the beach from up front," before you could reply to Sunghoon you felt yourself getting dragged towards the beach by Ava, Jay shouting behind you to be careful. You looked back, Sunghoon giving you an amused look before retreating his steps back into the villa. 

Jake called you back after sometime, deciding that since it was already late, everyone could eat the dinner and sleep away the exhaustion to properly enjoy tomorrow. Everyone wordlessly agreed, too tired to explore further. Everyone bid their goodbye. You went into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water before you went back into your room, your footsteps light. You poured yourself some water, taking a water bottle with you since you felt too lazy to get out of your room again. You slowly made your way towards the staircase leading towards the first floor when you heard light giggles. Your head turned towards the voices instinctively. 

Jay had Ava backed up against the wall in between their rooms, their limbs tangled together with a quiet urgency. Jay kissed her like he was falling, fast and fearless and she kissed him back like she knew how to catch, but never intended to. Jay's hand moved from her waist to the door handle, opening it and backing Ava into her room. The door clicked shut behind them, and you still stood there, watching, like you always did. You gripped the bottle tightly, heart heavy and hollow at the same time. You made your way inside your room before your tear could manage to escape. The door clicked shut behind you with more force than you intended but you didn't care, not at this moment when the world around you felt like it was caving in. 

"Someone help me with the drinks!" You yelled out to no one in particular as you watched everyone just beeline towards the beach. You put your hand above your head, eyes squinting at the sun. You internally thanked yourself for opting to wear lenses instead, beach and glasses would be a disastrous combination, "let me help you.." You turned towards Jay who slowly made his way towards you. He smiled, taking the box of drinks from your hand and signalling his head towards the lighter box instead. "I would've asked the boys to help with these, you didn't have to help with this." You shook your head, adjusting the box in your hands, "no worries, but if I collapsed right now, tell my parents I died a hero."

Jay's eyebrows rose at your remark, a slight smirk gracing upon his face, "by carrying a box of drinks? How noble. I would crave 'Gone too soon- by a box of Cola' on your tombstone." You huffed a breath, "are you sure we are not hazed? Why does this feel like a punishment?" Jay grinned clearly enjoying your suffering, "I think they went in first to avoid this exact trouble, we were set up." You just shook your head at his words, setting the boxes near each other, Jay ruffled your hair, then Ava called his name and he waved at you before running towards her.

The sun is warm against your skin as you step into the soft sand, the ocean glittering ahead. Around you the world felt lazy and dripped in golden hue but you couldn't shake away the heaviness of your heart. Jake and Sunghoon were already waist-deep in the ocean, calling out the rest of you to join them. Heeseung reclined on a lounge chair, under a fluttering umbrella. Oversized sunglasses perched upon his face as he smirked at the boys playing in the water. Your eyes travelled towards Jay and Ava, who sat a few feet away from you on a shared blanket, their silhouettes framed by the glow of the sun. Ava leaned into him, laughing at something he whispered in her ears. 

You knew it was better to look away, that ignorance was the only choice you had in this situation, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that. But your eyes stayed fixed on the way his fingers gently brush a strand of her hair away from her face, and how she leaned her head on his shoulder like she belonged there and maybe she does. You watched as Jay lay down on his stomach, and Ava on her back, his eyes closed as his hand circled around her waist. You wished you could just walk up to him, sitting beside him as your fingers traced your name on his back, not to claim or to mark but to belong, even just for a fleeting moment. But you don't move, you just watch as she calls his name when he runs off towards the boys to play in the water. 

"You aren't getting spared just because you are busy daydreaming in your own world, pretty." You screamed as you felt Sunghoon pick you up bridal style and run towards the beach as he spoke. "Yah, you know I can't swim." You tried kicking your legs to get him to put you down but there was no real fight in your attacks, "I know, that's why I'll be near you when you play! Trust me pretty." And with that Sunghoon jumped into the water with his still in his arms. Jake and Heeseung joined you two and helped you with splashing water on Sunghoon's face. 

"You're doing good pretty, just hold onto me tight." Your hands were on Sunghoon's shoulder while he had his on your waist as he guided you deeper into the ocean. You shrieked when you couldn't feel anything beneath your feet and his hold tightened around you, his arms now circling around your waist as he pulled you close. Jay watched both of you pinch Sunghoon's ears for his clumsy actions, something twisted low in his stomach and he couldn't explain why watching you both play together made his fingers tighten around Ava's waist. "Jay, it hurts." His attention went back to his girlfriend who looked at him with a questioning gaze, he shook his head, his fingers soothing the skin on her waist as a silent apology. 

"Alright, it's enough for the day, let's get back to have dinner." Your head turned towards Heeseung's voice, you walked up to him, others following close behind. "Had your fun?" He asked, one of his eyebrows arching as he spoke, you nodded your head as both of you fell into a casual conversation. "Okay how about we split the chores?" Ava groaned as Sunghoon's suggestion, clearly displeased. She leaned her weight on Jay, blinking up at him as she pouted, "I'm too tired to help..." Sunghoon scoffed unintentionally and Jake's coughed in his elbow to mask his laughter. "You just laid there on the beach and did nothing but you're tired?" Jay threw a glance at Sunghoon, clearly intending to make him shut up, then he looked at you, his eyes soft, "both of you go rest, we will call when everything's ready okay?"

Ava lit up, reaching up to kiss his cheek she ran inside the house and into her room, without a single glance towards the mess everyone was left with. You heard Jake sigh softly beside you, looking at the mess, hands on his hips. You stepped closer, bumping your hips with his, "how about Jay and Heeseung take care of cooking, Sunghoon can take care of collecting the empty drink bottles and both of us will clear the garbage?" He grinned at you, clearly pleased with your suggestion when Jay's voice cut through the air, "we will handle it, you should go and rest, you helped earlier too." You shook your head at his words, "I want to help, so please let me, and the more people are helping the sooner this will be over." You smiled as you pushed Jake towards the cleaning supplements to get started. 

"Wow this took longer than we thought," you straightened your back, nodding your head at Jake's complaints. The sun had set and the moonlight casted a soft glow on the ocean. The streetlights were turned on and everything looked straight out of a movie. "We're done with dinner!" You looked at Jake who mirrored your smile, "first one to reach the kitchen is the loser!" You said as you ran towards the kitchen, Jake followed close behind as he complained about you getting a headstart. You laughed when he reached the kitchen first, giving Heeseung a jumpscare when he bumped into him. You laughed at his proud face, enjoying yourself more than you thought when Jay's voice cut in, "Ava's still sleeping, I'll bring her dinner later, let's get fresh and then we will eat."

Dinner was spent with Sunghoon and Jay's bickering while Heeseung just laughed at his friend's banter. Laughter echoed over clinking cutlery, voices overlapping and plates passing with casual affection. "I literally said the first person to reach the kitchen is the loser." Sunghoon laughed loudly at Jake's bewildered face, his eyes round and big as he looked at you, "you're so mean.." You reached out and ruffled his head, cooing at his whiny self, "your fault for not listening properly." He slumped against the chair, giving you faux glasses as other's made fun of him. 

"We're sleeping early?" Jay questioned when everyone started complaining about being tired, a gentle frown etching on his face as he looked at you all. Sunghoon nodded his head, "Ava hasn't eaten since afternoon, so feed your girl, we will sleep too now, all the cleaning is finally creeping up on me." Heeseung, Jake and you religiously nodded, making Jay sigh as he prepared a plate for Ava and made his way into her room. "Let's get the cake and other things ready, I believe he will be occupied enough till we get things done," Heeseung whispered as soon as the door clicked shut behind Jay and everyone started preparing for the birthday boy's surprise. 

"Okay, I believe we are ready, are we ready?" Jake whispered, box of cake in his hands, beside him stood Heeseung and Sunghoon who had party poppers in their hands. You were given the responsibility to record the moment. You focused the camera on the cake, then slowly backing away to capture all three of them in a single shot. You softly giggled looking at them, a big grin plastered on your face as you recorded them. All four of you were wearing birthday hats, and you couldn't help but coo at how cute the three boys looked. In one of your hands were two birthday hats, one of them extra large since it was meant for Jay. You looked at the timing, signalling them it was time for all of you to huddle outside Ava's room. 

You knocked on the door, waiting patiently for Jay to open it. You wondered if giving Jay a surprise while Ava wasn't involved in it was a good idea or not but the plan to surprise was spontaneous, the one which you made while you were cleaning, later Sunghoon informed Heeseung about it when he found him alone. Ava never got out of her room, so you figured it wasn't anyone's fault she wasn't involved. Your heart drummed against your ribs, mind swirling with thoughts that if you catch them in their intimate moments, you couldn't bring yourself to handle that scene again. But all your thoughts flew out of your mind when the door swung open and Jay emerged from the door looking confused. 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONGSEONG!!!" All four of you screamed, confetti flying everywhere as Jay laughed, completely amused at the little surprise his friends pulled. Sunghoon took the large hat from your hand and placed it neatly on Jay's head. Ava emerged from the room, her hair messy and she was barely awake. You passed the phone to Heeseung and placed one hat on her head. Jay cut the cake, and the rest of the night was filled with questions from Jay about the surprise and what all went down while preparing. Heeseung apologized to Ava for excluding her from the surprise as he explained how the plan was spontaneous and no one got any opportunity to approach her. She smiled at him as she waved his concern off, but when the little party was almost over you could feel her mood getting sour as she looked at you. 

You got comfortable on the bed, sighing in relief as your body relaxed. You turned to your side, pulling the blanket closer, you slipped into sleep the moment you closed your eyes, body too drained to resist it. For a while everything around you stilled, the noise, the thoughts, even the time. But after few hours, something stirred, and your eyes blinked open, heart and mind racing. You're half-awake, half-dazed, your body begging you to just go back to sleep. You tried going back to sleep, but it was too late to go back to how it felt before. You got off from the bed and made your way downstairs, maybe Some fresh air would help you with the sleep. 

You stepped out of the villa, the air around you lighter and cooler. You made your way towards the narrow stone path, leading you towards the quiet overlook by the cliffside, where the ocean stretches endlessly below. The sky opened with each step you took, you breathe in the air, the wind gently caressing your body. "What are you doing here this late?" You jumped slightly, heart skipping before your mind caught up but you didn't move. Jay stepped beside you, leaning against the railings of the overlook, his eyes trained on your face as you looked ahead. "Couldn't sleep," you whispered, not wanting to break the serenity of the moment. 

"Something's on your mind?" You finally looked at him, his shirt was slightly crumpled, hair disheveled, his fingers twitched once before he clasped his hands together in stillness, his gaze was hard even though he looked composed from the outside, "you're angry, what happened?" The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up and your lips trembled as he locked his eyes with you. "I'm not angry," he stuttered lightly, clearing his throat and you looked away, biting your lips. "It's Ava right? Wanna talk about it?" He sighed, looking up towards the sky then back at you, contemplating whether he should talk to you about it or not.

"She got angry at me since she couldn't wish me at sharp 12..." You eyes widened at his words, disbelief gracing your face at the sheer absurdity of the situation, he looked at you, sitting down and motioning you to join him, and when you did, he continued, "I was so shock, she was in a sour mood, she wasn't even looking at me when I tried to approach her so I asked her till she told me why she was acting that way," you silently listened to him, feeling bad that he got into such situation on his birthday, "she has always been like that, there was a time when I didn't pick up her call at 12 AM sharp on my birthday cause I slept and she didn't talk to me whole day," you chuckled lightly. 

"Is laughing your type of coping mechanism? Considering she's your only friend, and she didn't talk with you on your birthday, doesn't that make her a bad friend?" His questions caught you off guard and you coughed to reduce the awkward tension it rose in the air. "She'll come around, Jay." He looked at you like he was trying to search for some answers he knew you wouldn't verbally give him, "can I share something with you?" His voice was soft as he asked you that and you nodded your head, not finding the courage in you to decline his request. "You're the only person I'm sharing this with, I know you're her best friend so you should probably be the last person I'm saying this to, but from the time I've known you, I know there's no one better than you who would understand me...."

You nodded your head at him to continue, he looked around, his shoulders slumping slightly, "I feel like the Ava in front of me is so different from the girl who used to send me letters..." your stomach dropped at his words, you didn't say anything, you kept your face still but your inside twisted but still you forced a hesitant nod, "like she's very sweet, but the kind of person I imagined her to be, the kind of person I fell for is so different from the reality. We have our sweet moments but they don't feel real to me," he played with his fingers, head hung low, "whenever I try to talk to her about the letters she diverts the topic by saying what matters is the present, her letters always used to see through me, I felt seen in those letter, I didn't even have to say anything but her letters told me they understood regardless, but it isn't the same anymore, it feel so unreal."

"Jay," you sighed wondering what words would even bring peace to his heart, you wanted to tell him the truth, that it was you who wrote those letters and not Ava, but you couldn't bring yourself to confess that. "You're her best friend but I keep on complaining about her behavior to you, don't snitch on me," he pointed a finger at you, "please?" You laughed at his actions, "I won't tell her about this, I promise." He looked at you, eyes squinting as if he didn't believe in your words, "pinky promise?" You stretched your pinky finger towards him and his eyes lit up as he hooked his pinky finger with you. 

Jay looked at the ocean in front of him, "relationships are more complicated than I thought they would be." You nudge your shoulders with him to cheer him up a bit, "tell me about it..." you rolled your eyes, standing up and extending your hand to him, the sun would start to rise after sometime and it would be better if you head back so you'd have enough energy to travel back home tomorrow. He held your hand to pull himself up, dusting his pants a bit. Both of you just walked back in without any conversation, the silence more comfortable in between you. "Let's grab something to drink before we go to bed," you nodded, letting yourself be a little bit more selfish for wanting to spend time with him.

The light of the refrigerator drapes a soft glow on his face, highlighting the curve of his sharp jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, his messy hair which somehow still looks perfect to you. And he looks calm, thoughtful even like your heart isn't shattering into pieces right beside him. You took a few steps back, leaning against the counter, pretending to look at something on your phone but your eyes are trained on him. On the way his brows squint slightly to decide which drink to choose, the way he quietly mumbles to himself as if he belongs to a place which is softer, quieter. And you love him. God, you love him. 

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, try to tear your eyes from his frame, to have some mercy on your heart. You wish you didn't feel this way, wished you never wrote those letters and kept your love hidden deep in your heart. You wished he would just turn around and look at you like you aren't just his girlfriend's best friend but someone who was actually meant to be his. And he turns around and looks at you, flashing you a quick smile, and it shatters you because it's the kind of smile he gives to everyone, and not the one you're dying to get, the kind he has reserved only for Ava. But you smile back, you pretend like you're not falling apart under refrigerator light for a boy who has no idea what he has gotten himself into. 

He makes his way towards you, now handing you a soft drink and leaning right beside you. He takes a sip, humming lightly as if he hasn't tasted the same drink countless times today. "So," he started, putting the drink on the counter and turning towards you, "did you break up with your boyfriend?" You choked on the drink at his random question before calming yourself, "what boyfriend?" You tilted your head as you waited for him to answer, he just shrugged, "the one who humiliated you in my birthday party some years ago in high school." Your jaw dropped before you could stop it, "you remember that? And it was your birthday party?" 

He nodded his head, finding your reaction amusing, "I was wondering when you'd say something about it but you didn't." You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again when you couldn't find the words, "so did you break up with him?" You nodded your head at him, "yeah, just after I reached home, I broke up with him and never looked back. I realized it after so long that deep down I knew he wasn't treating me right, I just wanted someone else to remind me of that and you did." His eyebrows arched at your words, his lips twitching into a smile, "guess you owe me a big one then," You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder a bit, "in your dreams Jay."

He laughed at your words, now taking both of your drinks and throwing it in the bin, "I'm glad that I met you, I don't think I'd be here if I didn't meet you that day." He smiled softly at your words, turning towards you, he stepped closer, "I'm glad you're here too, I feel so relaxed right now, it's amusing really..." you tilt your head at him, "what's so amusing?" His eyes went back and forth from your face then to the ground a couple of times, wondering if he should say what he wanted to, "hm? Jay?" He sighed, clearing his throat a little bit, "this," he said, waving his hands in between you two, "what's this?" You chuckled, finding his hesitation endearing. "This thing in between us, it feels," you stepped closer, nodding your head at him to continue, "it feels what Jay?" "Real. It feels real." 

"Pretty I feel like Jay's birthday this year is going to be very eventful," you and Sunghoon were sitting on the kitchen island, eating fruits, Ava insisted Jay to spend some alone time with her before you go back home so they were out, Heeseung and Jake were still sleeping. "Why's that?" You questioned as you took a bite of watermelon. "Jay said Ava was upset we didn't involve her in the surprise, which doesn't make sense cause Heeseung apologized for it and gave her genuine reason, right?" You nodded and he continued, "but I believe they got into an argument or something, Jay's been tense but he said that Ava wanted to throw a surprise for him too, all alone, and he agreed because he said it would make her happy."

You hummed in response, knowing well that Ava has a habit of bringing attention towards her in any situation, so it was inevitable that she would ask Jay to do something like that. Surprise for Jay sounded good too, they had been dating for months so she must've had something in her mind. "Let her have her moment, despite the reasons we could've texted her or something but we managed within ourselves so let her show her love towards him the way she wants." Sunghoon nodded, silently agreeing with you as he ate the apple, "I hope everything will go well, she didn't even ask any of us for help," you sighed at his words, praying everything would go well. 

Now you're dressing up for the surprise Ava had planned for Jay, she called everyone to the living room when both of them returned from their little outing and informed everyone to dress up nicely after you reached back home and meet in her parent's house since they were out on a business trip, he seemed quite excited about it. You hoped it would live up to his expectations and not end in yet another argument. You sighed watching yourself in the mirror, one hand holding the glasses while the other the lenses. You put the glasses down deciding lenses would be a great option if Ava or for that matter anyone else thought about pushing you into the pool again, you'd at least be able to see your downfall clearly. 

You asked Ava if she needed your help and she just shrugged, declining your offer and throwing a snarky comment at you, something along the lines of, "wouldn't want anyone else to take credit for what I am going to do for him." And you just hummed, not wanting to trigger her more by reminding her that of course she'd fear someone else taking credit given that she has done the same to date Jay. Those words sounded very rich coming from her, the hypocrisy was astonishing. You texted Sunghoon the address of Ava's parent's house and asked him to forward it to the other boys. 

Your eyes fell upon the clock, and you grabbed your things, booking a cab and texting Sunghoon that you'd reach the house in 20 minutes. He texted a thumbs up emoji, informing you that they would arrive at the house around that time too. You leaned against the car seat, watching the other vehicles pass by you in a rushed blur. Your heart thumped in your chest for some reason and you took a few deep breaths to calm the nerves down. It was inevitable you'd feel anxious, it's all you had been feeling ever since Ava started dating Jay, you were mentally preparing yourself to watch them being all lovey dovey in front of you without having a breakdown yourself. 

You arrive at the house, a small envelope in your hand, the evening sky painted in hues of pink and yellows. When you reached the door of the house, you could hear faint chatter from inside the room. You hesitate, glancing down at the envelope with Jay's name written on it and then back up at the faint lights flashing through the living room's curtains. You frowned, texting Ava about your arrival, you twisted the door open after you got a signal from her and stepped inside. You were still standing near the entrance of the house, the house was pitch dark, but still you could hear some murmurs, more clearer than before. 

The door behind you swung open, the night air brushing your skin as you turned around to find Jay hesitantly step inside, one hand clutching his phone and the other the door. His silhouette was half-hidden in the shadow. Behind him stood Sunghoon, Heeseung and Jake, anticipation etched on their faces. Someone behind you switched on the lights and Jay blinked, first because of the lights and then towards the crowd in front of him. You heard someone gasp from behind you, "Jay is here," and a loud chorus of "SURPRISE" erupted in the previously silence-filled house. Confetti exploded through the poppers, the music volume rising up like inflation. 

Ava's shoulder brushed against yours as she ran towards Jay to hug him, he hugged her back, blinking in confusion. The other three entered the house from the corner, Sunghoon throwing a worried look towards Heeseung who silently hushed him. Jake's eyes locked with yours as he passed by you, then he turned towards his other friends to whisper something. Jay smiled tightly when Ava dragged him towards the mini stage where she kept the cake for him. And his eyes found yours before Ava cupped his cheek to give him a birthday kiss. The music stopped and Ava gathered everyone's attention, "Today's my lovely boyfriend's birthday so first we will cut the cake and then we can continue with the celebration."

Loud cheer erupted at her words, you kept your gift on the corner where everyone else kept theirs and made your way towards the mini stage where others were already present. Ava cheered loudly, a bright smile adorning her face as she took off the cover from the cake, a towering, picture-perfect chocolate cake, glossy with ganache, topped with sparklers and gold-letter candles spelling his name. His smile flattered for a second before he masked it with his politeness. "Ava," he whispered quietly, eyes darting towards the people watching each of his actions in anticipation, "I'm allergic to chocolate." You could see the color drained from Ava's face as she looked around at others. "I ordered a vanilla cake, the bakery may have misplaced my order." She pouted, clinging onto his arms as other people gave her words of sympathy that it's the thought that counts. 

You were sitting on the couch beside Sunghoon, in front of you sat Jay and Ava, the music blasted in your ears, but you could still decipher the conversations going around you. Jay tapped his foot repeatedly against the ground, his shoulders tensed as he took a sip from his cup. "You're repeatedly tapping your foot on the ground, if you wanna dance, you could've just said so, come on, let's dance." You could see Jay froze at her words but didn't really resist when she dragged him towards the dance floor. You watch as Ava laughs, all bright and confident, clearly proud of the party she has thrown. You could see her dress sparkle and sway with her. One of her hands was clasped around Jay's wrist and the other waved the crowd off to make some space for them. 

You could see the way his shoulders sank when he reached the center of the dance floor, the way his eyes were scanning the room, over the crowd as if he was checking the exits. Ava pulled him closed, dancing around him carefree and unbothered. She turned around to face him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, she leans in for a kiss and he obliges, people cheer around them, flashing on camera making you blind. And he laughed when they pulled apart, hands on her waist as she sways. Your heart tugs a little, with sadness or jealousy you aren't really sure, cause you know Jay prefers to spend his birthday around his loved ones, intimately and not amongst the crowd. You know, because he had mentioned about it in one of his letters. 

"You do realize he is not the one you're supposed to be looking at, right?" You jumped at Sunghoon's voice, "huh? What?" He shook his head as he leaned back on the couch, your eyes following his actions, "Jay," he started, taking a look at him briefly before looking at you again, "you aren't supposed to look at your best friend's boyfriend with that intensity in your eyes, what happened to the girl code?" You choked on the air, rubbing the area just above your chest to soothe your breathing. "I'm not staring at him," you glared, clearly caught off guard by his observation, "yeah and I'm Michael Jackson," you rolled your eyes, leaning against the couch, "you're reaching, I was just looking at them dance together," Sunghoon smirked leaning close to your face, "without blinking? Was their dance that admirable?" 

You groaned throwing your head back, you could hear Sunghoon chuckling at your misery from beside you, "this isn't the first time I saw you staring pretty..." you turned your head slowly in his direction, he smiled lightly, eyes full of emotions or was it the effect of alcohol he was drinking? "Hm?" He sighed, resting his head at the back of the couch, mimicking you, "I saw how you look at him, at the music room, at his house during our celebration, at the villa, at the beach, the time when he served you dinner," your gaze was fixed on his face as he went on and on about all the times he had watch you fawn over your best friends boyfriend. You couldn't bring yourself to deny all his observations, not when he wasn't looking for your approval anyway, he had observed you and was just stating what he saw. 

"Your eyes are so predictable, pretty," He said after he didn't get any response from you and saw you looking away. There was not a single bite in his words, he didn't accuse or blame you for being a bad friend. Your eyes met his again, you couldn't find any sharpness, or any judgement, just softness, like he understood where you were coming from without you having to say anything. Your heart swelled with something you didn't quite understand but felt overwhelmed, "are you always this annoying?" Your words were softer than you intended them to be, and he just smirked, putting his hand on your shoulder, "only when I'm onto something." You sighed but didn't resist his embrace, "you're not onto something, Jay's my best friend's boyfriend." His other hand made its way towards yours to play with your bracelet, "he is, that doesn't mean you wish things were different though." You let me play, eyes lingering on the veins of his hands for a second too long, "I didn't say that," "You didn't have to."

"Where did they go?" Your eyes followed Sunghoon's line of vision, "probably in Ava's room to make out or something," you mumbled quietly but he caught that, "you're not going to sit here and sulk," he said grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, "no girl gets to stand beside me and feel like a loser, that shit is reserved only for boys." You wanted to say something but decided against it when you couldn't think of anything smart to say. He dragged you towards the dance floor, his hands circling around your waist, he abruptly pulled you close, your hands grabbing his shoulders in response. "Focus on me tonight, who knows, tomorrow you might forget who Jay is." 

You rolled your eyes at him, hands now comfortably resting around his neck as both of your bodies swayed with the rhythm of music. The night had stretched on, the music settling to something slow and soft. One of his hands slid up to rest against your back, while the other rested snugly on your waist. His actions pulled your body closer to his, from this distance you could count all the moles that were scattered across his face, the curve of his lashes, the point of his nose, and his lips. You gulped, feeling heat rise up in your body at the proximity. You tried looking away but he held you in place with his gaze. You were sure he could hear your heartbeat from how close you were. 

One of his hands lifted, his movements slow and deliberate as he looked at your face for any signs of discomfort, his knuckles grazed your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered close and you leaned into his touch. His breath hitched, taking shallow breaths his hand now cradled your cheek, fully, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. You sighed softly, leaning more into his touch as if leaning felt safer than speaking. You felt him inch closer, your nose barely grazing against his, you could smell him, the faint scent of detergent which lingered on his shirt, his shampoo, and something so achingly Sunghoon. Your breath flattered, syncing with his, for a moment both of you just breathed each other in.

His lips meet yours, softly, no urgency, no rush, like he's taking his time to learn the curve of your lips, a little hesitant, like he was giving you time to back out if you want. It was the kind of kiss that communicated his soft sighs and gasps, one that lingers at the back of your mind even after years. His thumb caressed your cheek, his actions meant less for comforting you and more for anchoring himself and for a moment everything single thought from your mind disappeared. Then his thumb suddenly froze mid-motion, he pulled away slightly, enough to look at your face. "You're crying pretty..." your eyebrows furrowed at his words and you opened your eyes, his thumb caught another tear which fell from your eyes but he didn't press further.

"I'm sorry..." you choked, unable to comprehend the reason behind your tears. You wanted to kiss him, and you did, but you couldn't figure out why the tears started to flow. The hand on your cheek, slid up to the back of your neck and he pulled close. You buried your head at the crook of his neck. "It hurts so bad, hoon." You aren't even sure where it hurts badly, Ava's lie, or watching her living the life you only imagined in your dreams, or the fact that even if Jay knew it was you, it wouldn't have bloomed into something so precious. "Shh, everything will be okay, you don't have to pretend in front of me." His fingers tangled in your hair as he drew soothing circles on your head. You nodded your head, pulling away a little from his embrace and from the corner of your eyes you saw Jay furiously walking down the stairs, his shoulders tense. 

"Sunghoon," you pulled away from him and he brushed the remaining of the tears with both of his hands, "Jay." You pointed your finger towards his figure, he shoved people who came into his path, his steps hurried and faze fixed on the main door of Ava's house, "follow him," Sunghoon nudged you in Jay's direction, your face contoured into confusion, "but shouldn't Ava be going after him?" He ran his hand through his hair as he watched Jay near the door, "something tells me he needs you more than he'll need Ava at this moment." You looked at him for a second, letting his words sink deep inside you, after a while you nodded at his direction and turned around to run towards Jay. 

Sunghoon watched as your hand slipped away from him, the same hand which he had intertwined with yours a few moments back. He watched it all, the way the tip of your finger slid against his one last time, like sand slipping from his palm, the way your lips trembled when you turn away, the urgency in your steps when you try your best to move through the crowd to reach Jay, and his hand tremble beside him. His other hand lifted up to trace the lingering memory of your lips pressing against it. And when he recalled the way your lips moved against his and how he tasted the salty taste of your tear before catching a sight of it, he wondered if that's what heartbreak tastes like. Like a kiss dipped in honey, ruined by the sting of salt you never meant for him to find.

[ikeuwoniee]

NICEST GUY

pairing: jake x fem!reader x sunghoon synopsis: you decide to go to your first college party after two years, and after having to take care of two different drunk men, your college life changes drastically. genre: social media au (smau), crack, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, love triangle, college au status: finished! (12/22/2024 - 04/12/2025) playlist: jake's playlist | sunghoon's playlist

warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, little bit polygamic, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, ignore timestamps please!!! it's all crack zero braincells kinda au, reader is jungwon's twin sister, jake and hoon hate each other

teaser 📓

profiles: 1 | 2 | 3

chapters

1. greek god 2. the bro code 3. jungwon's best friend 4. rabbit hole 5. niki from the future 6. she's coming... 7. the aftermath (2.6k words) 8. like a prayer trend 9. werefolf 10. naruto and sasuke are gay 11. thanks sigmund freud 12. bros like to gossip 13. women are dating robots in 2025 14. between two wolves (2k words + 6 screenshots) 15. shawty had them apple bottom jeans 16. the john cena episode 17. TELL ME WHY 18. sigma boy 19. rose bowl 20. hate to mate bowl 21. tom brady and patrick mahomes 22. unspoken desires (5.5 works + 6 screenshots) 23. hungary field trip 24. sunghoon diss track 25. fifa straight male gathering 26. just close the door (1.3k words + 8 screenshots) 27. nikola jokic 28. the super bowl episode (10k words + 10 screenshots 29. tdot 30. travis kelce but he's from japan 31. chateau marmont 32. tax evasion is a victimless crime 33. the premiere (15k words) 34. binding contract with the devil 35. just like tt 36. world war 5 just dropped 37. magnesium the mouse 38. the final chapter (6.7k words + 20 screenshots)

heejama's masterlist 📎

author's note: hey guys! this is my first long smau so i hope you guys like it 🥹 taglist is open, just comment down below or dm me 🤍

© all rights reserved @/heejamas — do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures

[ikeuwoniee]

─── 𝑳𝑫𝑹 (𝑳𝑜𝑣𝑒,𝑫𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑹𝑜𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑠)

˚.❀𝑷𝐴𝐼𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐺 ─── Robot!Sunghoon x Reader

˚.❀𝑺𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 ─── Men sucked, Real men sucked ── they don't know shit and only think about themselves. And as if the gods had heard you , you've found a website that sounded ridiculous enough not to click ── you just had to check it out. Build your own boyfriend ; they really meant it when they said that. So , for the fun of it ; you've built your own boyfriend and ordered him. What you didn't expect was for your Robotic 'Boyfriend' to gain self awareness and for you to fall for him.

˚.❀𝑮𝐸𝑁𝑅𝐸/𝐶𝑊 ─── nsfw (mdni) , futuristic!Au, romance , robotic sex, cussing , Sunghoon gets self-aware, alien stage characters mentioned (ifykyk), fingering, masturbation with another person watching, nipple stimulation, mention of sex toys , a bit of angst if you squint ˚.❀𝑾𝑂𝑅𝐷 𝐶𝑂𝑈𝑁𝑇 ─── 9.3k ˚.❀𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸 ─── i hope this doesn't flop </3 this ended up being longer than intended. Special thanks to @jaylaxies and @taetebebe for encouraging me to continue !

                              𝒄ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡ᵎᵎ (˶˃⤙˂˶)

Prologue : Real men suck.

You were sick of it , another date that you thought was going to be the one date you'd come back home from happily went down the drain. Men just sucked , they absolutely fucking sucked and didn't care about anyone other than themselves. Talk about fragile masculinity.

You weren't lucky in the love and relationship field ── somehow , you've always managed to attract complete pricks or one of those 'nice' guys who were absolute psychopaths and crash out professionals. So , you've had peaceful years of staying single , sure maybe a hookup once in a while but nothing that lasted for a long time ── you were simply living life. But that didn't mean that you wanted it to stay like that , otherwise you wouldn't have collected every ounce of courage in your body to go on a date once in a while with the hopes of getting into a relationship ── you just never found the right one. Maybe your standards were too high , a lot of the guys you had gone on a date with would throw that sentence at your head at the end of it just because you don't want to sleep with them on the first date. It was ridiculous.

"He almost threw a damn temper tantrum just because I stepped away when he tried to kiss me. Like damn , my bad for wanting to keep it demure ── I didn't even want to kiss him! I don't get how he'd want to kiss me when his lips were still covered in tomato sauce", your face cringing as you recalled the date , lips closing around the straw of your drink as you slurped on it , watching the way your friend's face also scrunched up in disgust. "Ew.... couldn't he at least wipe his mouth, maybe then he could've gotten a kiss from you", you quickly shook your head while humming "no" , your eyes widening out of disbelief. "Nu uh! I would never in my life kiss him! He made me pay the damn bill because he 'forgot' his wallet! Yunjin, he ordered the most expensive meals off the menu and didn't even eat all of it!", you couldn't help but scoff a little , this was the last time you'd accept paying the whole bill ── it's either half half or nothing.

"Ho, did you go on a date with a child?", Yunjin chuckled , sipping on her own drink while you were scrolling on your phone. Suddenly , you saw something that made you stop scrolling. A pop ad showed up. BYOB : Build your own boyfriend ── ...? What a strange website. Build your own boyfriend? That sounded like a dream but it also sounded way too ridiculous to be true ── so you clicked on it , not even thinking about it being a scam or a virus.

But it was legit , there it was. There were a variety of things you could do such as customize the face , body build and with body build they meant everything , skin tones, eye color , change the hairstyle ── it was like playing the sims , just cooler? "Girl , oh my god ── check this out", Yunjin's head snapped up upon your call out to her , getting startled by your phone right in front of her face before her eyes squinted slightly. "Dude, you seriously need to turn the brightness of your phone up", Yunjin huffed as she took your phone , adjusting the brightness of it before looking at the website you had opened ── her eyebrows furrowed a little before she gave you a look.

"Build your own boyfriend? This has to be a scam", Yunjin shook her head , reaching over the table to hand you your phone back. "I don't know , it could be ... but you can't know that unless you try it out? I just looked at some of the reviews and they look pretty legit , all the customers reviewed pictures with their 'boyfriends'. Now.... what if I just...", Yunjin put her hands up as a surrender as you trailed off. "You do you , girl. But don't come crying to me if you get scammed! But really? A robotic boyfriend? Don't you want to give real men another chance?", you sighed.

"No , real men suck. With this , I can program him myself and have the man I want and deserve. Besides , this is just for the fun of it", you replied back , taking a screenshot of the website so you could look further into it back at home ── you had a 'date' with your close friend after all and there was lots of shopping to do!

Chapter 1 : I guess I have a boyfriend now ?

You didn't know if you were insane for it or not ── did you really care? No , but your bank account was certainly screaming out of pure agony from the amount of money you had spent. Listen , if it's gonna be legit then you'd at least want the robot boyfriend to actually be like how you wanted him to be ── if it's a scam , as embarrassing as that would be , you'd call the police, simple as that.

Despite how unhinged you felt about actually building your own boyfriend , you couldn't help but feel anticipation and maybe even excitement. According to the website , you'll barely remember that it's a robot from how real it'll feel ── from the behavior down to the skin texture and the way it'll talk , the website gave 100% guarantee that it'll feel and act like an actual Human. Well , you'll see whether or not that's true ── or if it will arrive at all.

The only thing you had to do was program his behavior and personality ── you only programmed the personality , you didn't really care about the behavior unless it was like really really icky stuff , you could simply change the program then. Talking about the program , the usb stick you had moved the program on was close to slipping out from between your fingers with the way you have been fiddling with it ── the bottom of your feet gently padding against your wooden flooring as you paced back and forth.

Your 'Boyfriend' was supposed to arrive today fully built together ── all you had to do was stick the usb stick into the port and download the program you have coded and dress him since he'll arrive naked. You even took the day off of work just to receive the package ── it would be embarrassing for you if one of your neighbors received it for you. But then again , you live in the future , a lot of people had their own robots ── just not a robotic lover ... unless they were freaks , guess you were a freak as well then. You prayed that your neighbors wouldn't see it , because from an outsider's perspective : they'd think you ordered a robotic boyfriend because you just were so so lonely ── you were in fact lonely yes , but that wasn't the reason you had ordered it , it was just out of pure curiosity and fun.

You just hoped that the robot would look just the way you had customized it ── honestly, the options they've offered were overwhelming and you had spent at least 3 hours customizing the robot. The options were insane , what do you mean you could even customize the genitals?? The doorbell rang , putting your train of thoughts to a stop and you almost ran to the door to open it.

"Hi , I have a huge package for you ,Miss ,from company B── Yes! Yes I know , haha! Thank you!", you screeched as the delivery guy was close to saying the company's name out loud , a forced bright smile on your face as you spotted one of your neighbors outside before grabbing the stacking cart your package was on. You didn't even give the delivery guy a second to breathe as you placed the package into your apartment on your own before you practically shoved the stacking cart back into the delivery guy's chest and slammed your door shut. That was totally not suspicious, yeah , absolutely.

You let out a heavy sigh , your fingers running through your hair as you made your way to the living room where you placed the Package to lay on the floor. Jesus, that package was fucking huge . Your hands rested on your hips as you hit the pregnant lady stance , your eyes studying the package ── how in the world were you going to open that ?

Well , it was now or never ── you thought as you grabbed a utility knife and cut through the layers of tape that were wrapped around the package to keep it protected. Your heart was starting to pound against your chest as you slowly opened it , a quiet gasp leaving your lips as you discovered what was inside ── there , there it was : your very own Robot.

It was crazy how humane he looked. The pads of your fingers ran along the texture of the face , the synthetic skin really felt like real actual skin. The eyelashes, every single eyebrow hair , every pore on the synthetic skin ── you were impressed with the details. If you wouldn't have known that this was a robot , you'd think that it was an actual human who just looked way too good to be real.

"Alright so... I'll just have to dress him first and then start him..", you mumbled to yourself as your eyes glanced down and ── Jesus christ!? You only put 8 inches as a Joke , you didn't know they were really going to do that! Your wide eyes quickly looked away , feeling slightly awkward .God damn it (Y/n) , get a grip! It's a robot ── you thought to yourself as you took a deep breath and grabbed the clothes from the couch that you had placed there beforehand so you wouldn't need to look for them later. You dressed your Robot in something comfy and casual ── a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie , of course you also dressed him with a pair of boxer shorts underneath and a pair of socks on his feet.

Once fully dressed , you grabbed the USB stick and turned his head over so you could access the USB port and stuck it inside , your finger pressing the power on button on his chest which was funny enough... his left nipple. You couldn't help but pull a thin lipped face at that ── of course it was going to be a nipple , damn.

Suddenly, his eyes opened and looked directly at you , the sudden action making you jump back in surprise. The logo of the company glowed in his eyes before a small loading bar showed up , indicating that the program you've coded was downloading. Before you had a minute to breathe, another jump scare greeted you as he suddenly sat up and just... stared at you. "Uhm... Hi?", you awkwardly raised your hand and gave him a wave to which he only blinked again and copied what you did.

"Hello. My name is Park Sunghoon and from today on I'll be your personal robotic Boyfriend until I'm not needed anymore , destroyed , neglected or discarded ── until then, I'll be by your side (Y/n)", his voice was surprisingly smooth and not ... robotic at all ── that company really did a good job , especially with the design : just like how you customized him.

"Alright... thank you?", well ... your little funsies turned into something legit. How were you going to explain this to your one and only friend Yunjin?

Chapter 2 : To act like a Human

"Wow.... he doesn't look like a robot at all. I expected more static noises and less details.... more like a robot and not like a human. At least he can cook, technology really is a great thing", Yunjin studied Sunghoon from the couch , watching the way he was cooking for you and Yunjin ── he didn't need food after all, sure , he can eat it but it doesn't serve him the same purposes as for Humans. While food provides nutrition for living beings , the food he can or would consume gets turned into energy ── where does it go? Simple, the food gets pulverized inside his stomach.

"I know right... I kind of forget that he's a robot until he pulls up with the all the information's and news you would find on google. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea... he's more like a male housewife than a boyfriend. But he does... treat me good. He gives me foot rubs whenever i come back from work and runs me a bath without me having to ask", Yunjin just looked at you , blinking a couple times before she giggled. "No , yo didn't get a boyfriend. You got a whole damn house husband , man , I'm jealous", Yunjin sipped on her drink before smiling in glee as Sunghoon held out two plates of the meal he just cooked , your eyes looking up meet him dark brown ones. "Are you not going to eat as well?", you asked to which he shook his head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Food doesn't serve me any purpose. It would be a waste for me to eat it", Sunghoon replied back in that monotone voice of his to which you could only sigh. "You have to learn how to ... eat with us... with me ── it would make you appear more human-like", he tilted his head at your response, going through with the words you have said. More Human like? Was he too robotic for your taste? "You...want me to act ... like a human..?", he asked slowly , his eyes narrowing slightly , watching as you nodded your head. "Your wish is my command", with that , he left off to grab himself a plate ── maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to eat.. human food : it does get turned into energy after all for him and it would make him blend in easier. Sure , it wasn't new that robots like him existed ── but maybe you were embarrassed about it? I mean , not everyone wanted to be known as someone who 'dates' a robot.

His eyes glanced to look at you and Yunjin , his eyes quite literally scanning your vitals and your mood as your data bank showed up for him. You were happy and healthy , but he noticed something that made his eyes narrow slightly ── your exhaustion levels were high along with your stress levels. He should have known , not only was he able to see it but the whole week that passed since he arrived made him take note of how much of a workaholic you were .When he 'woke up', you were already gone for work. When you come back home , you'd quickly eat and go straight back to work on your computer. He gave himself a mental reminder to get up an hour earlier every single day so he could track when you'd wake up and record your morning routine. You were his human after all , he had to take care of you so that was mandatory ── that wasn't part of your program though , that was something that was built into his basic system.

"Oh wow... you didn't need to buy all the groceries. I was going to do that", your eyes were wide in surprise as you looked at the grocery bags on the dinner table , his back turned to you as he sorted the items that needed to be refrigerated into your fridge. "Isn't that what humans do?", Sunghoon asked back as he turned around to look at you , a pack of tomatoes in his hands. "I mean yeah... but how did you know..── I have recorded everything you've mumbled under your breath or couldn't find because you ran out of it", Sunghoon interrupted you which only made you raise a brow.

"But I didn't say anything about fresh ingredients... packs of instant noodles would have done the job", you replied back as you walked over to the table to help him but he stopped you , his hand heavy on your shoulder as he rested it there.

"Your diet is unhealthy. You can't get all the nutrition's and proteins you need by eating and drinking instant noodles , energy drinks and coffee every single day. As your boyfriend , I'll take care of you. You will eat two or three meals a day with snacks in between in a healthy moderation. You can still continue drinking your coffee and energy drinks , at least the food needs to be healthy. If you wish for me to not do that , I must disappoint you ── it's stated in your program that you want me to take care of you and to be someone you'll be able to rely on. Now , go into the bathroom. I have run a bath for you and placed freshly washed clothes on the sink counter for you to change in. After that , you will eat and relax a bit. I've recorded your routine and you don't use any free time to relax and destress ── humans are fragile , this will quickly end in a burn out. I have confiscated your laptop so you won't sneak around and try to work on it , you can do that after you've relaxed for at least an hour and ate something", you could only blink , a bit taken aback by the whole monologue he had held and he didn't even give you a second to even reply back , his hand turning you around and giving you a gentle push into the direction of the bathroom.

As much as you wanted to complain... you needed this ── for once in your life , you were actually able to breathe without the weight of the stress weighing down on your chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Chapter 3 : Handsome young Lad── That's your boyfriend ?!

You couldn't shake off that feeling that you had forgotten something at home ── something was missing , but you couldn't place your finger on what it was. Oh well, it wasn't important then ── you thought as you shrugged your shoulders.

The sound of your fingers tapping down on your keyboard joined the sounds of your coworkers' keyboards clicking . The office was quiet otherwise ── well , except for two of your female coworkers giggling and gossiping behind you. It was a nuisance on some days, the days where the office work was more stressful ── you just drowned it out like usual. But then , you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around , you were met by the same coworkers standing behind you with smiles on their faces. "(Y/n), we're going to karaoke later, do you want to join us?", one of them offered with a smile on her face , feeling giddy about asking you. "Uhm... I don't know... Karaoke isn't really my thing, but thank you for asking", you replied back with a small smile , a look of disappointment flashing in their eyes. " You never really do something with us , it's a shame because we'd really like to be friends with you", the other one asked in a calm yet slightly disappointed tone but they respected your decision.

Come to think of it... you've never tried to do something with your coworkers to strengthen the bond ── company dinners didn't count. Maybe , maybe joining once wouldn't hurt , right? ── especially since you've always politely rejected their offers.

"You know what... I'll join today , but only this once. And I won't sing", their smiles grew back onto their faces and they high fived each other. "We'll take that!", they said in unison and you couldn't help but chuckle under your breath ── it was kind of cute seeing them get so excited over it. "Trust you'll have so much fun! Sua always starts crying in the middle of singing", Mizi said with a giggle , her giggles intensifying as Sua huffed and bumped her shoulder against Mizi's.

But her giggles died down when she saw someone come into the office ── it wasn't a coworker or anyone of the higher ups. A new face maybe? "Hey... I think we're getting a new coworker , a really handsome one at that", Mizi whispered as she nudged her head into the direction , making both you and Sua turn to look at the office entrance ── your jaw dropped.

His eyes locked with yours and he walked over to your desk with big strides. "Sungh── You forgot the lunchbox I made for you...", Sunghoon cut you off as he gently placed a bag on your desk, your back straightened out of the shrimp position you were sat in as your fingers opened the bag to look inside ── all while Mizi and Sua were staring at the scene as if they have discovered an alien.

"Wow Sunghoon... that's ... a lot..", you muttered as you took one of the lunchboxes out ── there were two in total and one thermos can that possibly had soup or coffee in it. "Of course , you skipped breakfast so I packed a lot", he replied back in a matter of fact tone that only made you huff under your breath. Mizi's and Sua's eyes were darting between the two of you back and forth.

"Oh yeah... I'll come back home a bit later than usual. I'm joining Mizi and Sua to the karaoke today", Sunghoon nodded his head , his eyes briefly looking at the mention women to secretly scan them ── he just wanted to see if they had ill intentions with you , you didn't need that stress : but they didn't. "Social interactions , that's good", Sunghoon nodded his head before glancing at his watch.

"Make sure to eat as much as you can , you don't need to finish it all. I'll be leaving now", you nodded your head and waved him off. Only a second passed since Sunghoon stepped a foot outside of the office before Mizi and Sua grabbed your shoulder. "Was that your boyfriend?!", they asked in both shock and joy ── he had to be your boyfriend! You didn't know what to say, you couldn't exactly say roommate since no roommate would do something like that ── and you couldn't tell them that he was your robotic 'boyfriend'. So , you just nodded your head.

"Wow ! You really got a good catch! Not only does he cook for you and bring the food you had forgotten, he's also really handsome!", Sua said in her soft voice , a bright smile on her face ── missing the way Mizi glanced at her in a strange way ,her eyes softening the longer she looked at Sua.

"So good men do exist , huh?", Mizi chuckled to which you could only awkwardly chuckle along ── oh you sweet summer child , if only she knew that he was a robot you had customized , they didn't need to know that though. The two of them went back to their work desks and started to do their tasks , the hours stretching as they seemed to pass slower and slower the closer it got to the end of your shift.

Maybe going to karaoke with the two of them really wasn't that bad ── a small smile on your face as you watched them sing their hearts out to emotional love songs , watching them giggle whenever they missed a word of the lyric or sang in the wrong key. You felt happy and maybe , maybe getting new friends wasn't so bad ── now you don't feel so alone at work anymore.

Chapter 4 : A Human's body and it's reaction

You didn't expect this.

You felt weird about it but at the same time , you didn't care.

Yes , maybe you were weird for it to others ── you already were weird for even ordering him.

But you lived in the future , it didn't matter ── a world that almost got completely ruled by robots : it didn't matter now if you kissed your robot or not. Especially not when he felt so human-like , his lips cold against yours ── the heat of your lips slowly warming his cold ones up.

It all started when he came to you , asking what kissing felt like and what it does with a person. Lately he's been asking you a lot of... strange questions , as if he was questioning himself. He didn't even act the way you've programmed him anymore ── all the traits you programmed slowly disappeared. Don't get me wrong , he was still acting like your ideal type ── but he seemed to have gained his own personality. He started to go outside more , found his own style and even enjoyed going shopping, talked more about random stuff that were on his mind , cracked his own little jokes here and there ── he even applied for a job and started to play games ! It was as if he was trying to erase the part that he was in fact a robot , an artificial intelligence.

Now , one thing led to another after he had asked you if you could kiss him so he could figure out what it felt like and most importantly : How a Human's body reacts to it. Sure , he had his database but ── he wanted to experience it , feel it and discover it on his own.

One of his hands was on the side of your neck , his thumb pressing against your pulse point so he could feel under his thumb how your pulse quickened. Through half lidded eyes , he looked at you through his eyelashes ── watching how your eyelashes pressed against the apple of your cheeks , how your eyebrows furrowed when he pressed his lips harder against yours, Your breathing got hotter and ragged , your fingers clutching onto the shirt he was wearing , as if you were holding onto him to not fall.

His free arm was wrapped around your waist , hand resting on your hip to hold you close. He could feel it , feel the way your body was growing noticeably warmer under his touch , the way you shuddered when he started to experiment by licking your lips with the tip of his tongue ── yes , his tongue was indeed wet. If he had a heart , it would beat as fast as yours ── but there wasn't a heartbeat in his chest no , only the mechanical sounds vibrating in his chest to simulate a heartbeat that you could only hear if you'd press your ear against his chest.

You pulled away to take a breather , your lungs burning from the lack of air while his eyes were focused on your face ── the vital status in his eyes tracked that your cheeks were hot , your lips were slightly swollen and parted as you panted under your breath. So , this was what kissing does to a human...? From simple lips on lips contact with a little bit of tongue? This only made him curious ── he wanted more , he wanted to discover more , he wanted to find out what exactly would happen if this went further.

He didn't let go of you , the hand against the side of your neck sliding up to your face , his thumb under your chin to lift your head up so he could study you more properly.

"You're aroused", he stated calmly which only made the heat rise to your cheeks more intensely , giggling nervously. "Pshhhh , noooooo ", you tried to brush it off but he didn't falter.

"You are. I can see it. Your body temperature increased, your breathing got heavier and hotter ── your chest is heaving. Your cheeks are really hot , your heart is beating faster. Your estrogen levels also have risen", he explained as you pressed your lips tightly together ── god , of course he'd know. It's been a while since you've last had some sexual action or even kissed someone like that ── of course you'd react that way , especially with how surprisingly good he could kiss.

You stayed quiet , not quite sure what to reply back as you looked down at the floor.

"Are you embarrassed? But isn't that a normal human reaction? That's nothing to be embarrassed about , right?", he asked in a confused tone , his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion ── was he wrong?

"I am... and yes , it is a normal reaction.... it can just be... a little embarrassing for a person , you know..?", you mumbled under your breath.

"So some Humans feel embarrassed for getting aroused..? But that's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about", he was suddenly deep in thoughts. What did embarrassment even feel like? Or shame? He wished he could find out what it felt like , but he simply can't ── he doesn't have built in emotions like that. A real shame if you'd ask me.

His stare on you was starting to get suffocating , you started to feel so so small under his gaze which he took note of before the next question came.

"What do human's do when they feel aroused?"

You felt the air in your lungs get knocked out as his question reached your ears , taken aback by the intimate question he asked so casually ── (Y/n) , remember , he's a robot. You coughed awkwardly.

"Well uhm... depends? If they're in a relationship or... really open minded , they'll have sex in most cases. If they're single , like me , they uhm.. you know , pleasure themselves..", this was so embarrassing! You just wanted to crawl into a hole and die... maybe touch yourself before that , but you just wanted to crawl away!

"You're not , you have me . I'm your boyfriend", he stated , his finger tapping against your cheek. Somehow , hearing those words from him made your heart skip a beat. Right , technically seen , he was your boyfriend so you also technically seen weren't single.

You sighed ── may lord give you the power to handle explaining it to him. The real reason why he's here.

"Technically, yeah but .. okay listen Sunghoon ── I didn't customize and ordered you to be my boyfriend. I thought the website was a scam and just... did it for fun. Yes , I've spent a lot of money just for some fun , I have enough money to spare but... I didn't expect it to be legit", his eyes bore into you as you explained it to him , his facial expression unchanging.

"But do you want me to be your boyfriend?", his question caught you off guard again , your head snapping up to look up to him.

"I..."

He blinked.

"That's not how humans work... right?", you nodded your head and he hummed before pulling you closer to him until your chest was pressing against his.

"I'll simply make you catch feelings for me. I am everything you want ── from the looks down to the personality. But human feelings , they can't be forced ── especially something like love , am i correct?", you nodded your head again and for the first time , you saw the corners of his lips tug up into a smile.

"Then I'll make you fall for me. Considering that I am the boyfriend you'd want , I doubt that you'll find someone who meets your standards ── no one can compare to me , you'll never be happy ".

Three weeks have passed since the day you and Sunghoon had kissed and the promise that he was going to make you fall for him ── his plan was working , which you didn't like to admit.

He started to act more ... like himself in a way. He wasn't acting like a robot anymore , not at all ── he was becoming more and more human-like. You started to forget that he was a robot.

He started to wake you up for work with breakfast in bed , help you with small things such as getting items from a higher shelf or opening jars for you ── even simple things such as restocking your stash of feminine products. He even started to decorate the apartment he lives with you in , even the room that he was staying in ── the once blank room that only had his charging station in it had some furniture. Yes , his room was minimalistic but it was neat and clean , reflecting his personality and even showcasing what he's recently been obsessed with ── his collection of glasses.

Whenever you'd come back home and step into your room , you'd be greeted with pure relaxation. He'd light scented candles up , make sure you'd come back home to a clean and cozy smelling room that just wants to make you lay in bed and read a book or binge watch a show. He also made sure to get you a fresh bouquet of flowers every third day , if the flower shops were closed , he'd simply go outside and handpick flowers for you.

Whenever you needed comfort , he'd light some scented candles and make everything cozy and comfortable for you , letting you settle down before he'd gently massage your feet or shoulders while coaxing you to talk with him about it. Damn was he good ── and exactly what you wanted. You weren't complaining about the fact that he started to reject the program you had installed into him ── the fact that everything he was doing and even doing things out of his own will , it just set your standards on a higher level.

"Sunghoon I ....", he glanced up from his book as he heard you speaking , a small yet soft smile on his face as he set the book on his nightstand and held his hand out to you so you would come over ── which you did. Your feet softly padded against your wooden flooring as you walked over to his bed , your hand finding his and he gently pulled you to sit on his bed.

"What's wrong ? Do you feel sick? Upset?", he asked , his eyes softening while his thumb rubbed gentle circles into the back of your hand.

You shook your head.

"No I... I want to remove the program I had installed", his thumb stopped at your words , his eyes widening a little and he tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure that that's what you want?"

You nodded your head.

"I don't think that it's necessary anymore. You've ... gained your own personality and started to act on your own , not what the program wants and ... I like that because ── that's your doing , that's Park Sunghoon and not Park Sunghoon the robot..", he stayed quiet for a second before he sat up straight. "Alright , It will take a little though. Are you 100% sure you want to remove it?", he asked as he looked at you , a mint colored circle now in his eyes ── the same circles he had when you first turned him on.

"Yes"

With that , the uninstallation happened ── a small loading bar in his eyes again to show the process. He didn't speak , he just stared and didn't move ── as if his system had shut down.

You just sat there holding onto his hand before the circles started to slowly vanish once the procedure was completed and he blinked , his eyes slowly shifting to look at you again. "It's done , it's gone", he grinned before leaning his back against his pillows again. He didn't know why , but it somehow relieved him ── he didn't feel as if he was being controlled anymore by some program.

"Do you.... want to stay in my room?", he offered after a couple seconds of silence.

You accepted the offer.

You didn't know how much time had passed , but enough time passed by for you to fall asleep while he was reading his book , your body curled next to his . His eyes glanced at you , his facial expression softening and he reached a hand out to brush the strands of hair out of your face before resting on your back , tracing patterns and shapes of hearts against it while he went back to reading.

But something was plaguing his mind. He wished he was a human , because if he was , his heart would be beating quickly instead of the mechanics in his chest turning.

Chapter 5 : Fuck AI ! Let's have sobotic rex ── i mean , robotic sex

"Are you okay? Are you in pain──"

Horror.

This felt like pure horror to you. Your eyes were just as wide as his as he stared at you like a deer caught in the headlights , your cheeks growing hotter than before.

How were you going to explain to him why your hand was in your pants and the other hand under your shirt playing with your nipples ?

You didn't even need to.

"Are you pleasuring yourself?", he asked casually as he closed the door behind him and walked over to your bed , sitting down by the end of it. You quickly took your hands out of your pants and your shirt , shaking your head which in hindsight , was stupid ── it was so fucking clear that you were. And the reason for that was him. Yes , him.

Why him?

Well , he decided to be a little extra touchy in a subtle way. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so he could apply your lip balm for you , he made you sit down and took your shoes off for you with his fingers caressing from your ankles down to your feet, he grabbed your waist from behind while he was reaching for something that was in front of you. It was just subtle things that got you worked up , or maybe it was because you were touch starved? Or maybe it was the way he pressed a kiss on your lips in such a slow and sensual way that had you gasping for air. Those actions were enough to keep you up at night , feeling horny and needing to relieve yourself ── which he caught you in.

You still weren't dating per se , but the tension was in the air.

"Why did you stop?", his question knocked the air out of your lungs , his head tilting to the side as if this was the most normal encounter ── greeting a neighbor as an example.

"Well..."

"I wanted to watch , so I know how to make you feel good and what you like"

His reply had you , once again , feeling breathless , your heart pounding against your chest and your arousal grew. Oh how you love men that want to learn about a woman's pleasure ── shucks that he was a robot, but you didn't care anymore, you've long stopped caring about it. You didn't see him as a Robot as bizarre as that sounded considering he was one , you saw him as a person.

"Unless.. you're uncomfortable with that? But your estrogen levels have risen again so I'm a little confused", he continued , his eyes intensely staring at you before he blinked again.

"No I'm just... a little taken aback ... that's all", you muttered before taking in a deep breath , nodding your head a little as your fingers grabbed the waistband of your shorts. The chances that you'll end up with him for the rest of your life were higher than you finding a living being as your partner ── the idea of dating a living person didn't even appeal to you anymore. So what if you end up dating a Robot , the world has changed a lot and most people are either dating a robot or living with one.

His eyes drifted down to your bottom half as you slowly pulled your shorts down along with your cotton panties , taking in how your fingers trembled slightly under his watchful gaze and then he saw it ── his lips parting slightly in awe as your glistening pussy slowly got revealed to him.

He watched how you slowly spread your folds apart , strings of arousal sticking from one fold to the other , the result of just how fucking wet you were. His eyes then shifted back up to you.

"You’ve stimulated your nipples , right? Can you do that for me again?"

You shivered and nodded your head , sitting up a little to take your shirt off , your nipples already hard from the previous stimulation.

His eyes roamed your body from top to bottom , taking in every single detail about you and how your body was reacting before they stopped at your pussy. He just felt... so fascinated by it , how wet it was , how your clit was slightly engorged and how your hole was clenching and unclenching ── he simply felt captivated , so captivated that he came closer until his head was between your legs, leaning against your knee. He wanted to see it up close , he wanted the first row view of seeing you touch yourself.

It was as if he was taking notes in his mind ... well , he was , his eyes focused on what you were doing. You slowly trailed non dominant from your stomach up to your chest , gently kneading one of your boobs and letting your thumb circle your nipple before flicking it gently ── meanwhile your dominant hand went down to town.

You slid your middle finger from your clit down to your hole , your index and ring finger spreading your folds apart again so he could see what exactly you were doing and how ── how you used your thumb to tease yourself by letting it lightly graze your clit , enough to feel it but not enough to stimulate it properly. It was just enough to have your own hips involuntarily buck up against your hand.

Your cheeks were burning hotter than ever , your heart pounding so hard you felt it in your pussy ── or maybe that was just your pussy screaming at you to fucking do something finally. But you didn't shy away , not when he looked so captivated by what he was seeing.

You dipped your finger past your entrance , only the tip of it to slowly slick you finger up with your arousal until you've completely pushed it in. His eyes continued to stare , lips parting at the way your entrance stretched a little around the girth of your finger.

You gave yourself a couple pumps of your finger , your thumb lazily stroking your clit while your other hand was busy playing with your nipples , tucking and squeezing them gently or just straight up kneading the lump of fat.

But his hand on your wrist stopped you from pumping your fingers into your pussy , a quiet whine leaving your lips.

"I want to try..? Can I ? Will you let me try?"

Another wave of lust hit you as he asked that with those stupidly sparkly eyes of his , your teeth sinking into your bottom lip for a second while you nodded your head and pulled your finger out of your pussy.

He lifted his right hand up to his mouth , parting his lips as he slowly glid his fingers past them to get them wet in his mouth ── honestly , he didn't need to do that because of how fucking wet you already were , but the sight got you even wetter than before.

He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and sat up before scooting closer so he was sitting between your legs , his left hand placed on your inner thigh and pressing it down a little to part your legs more. He copied what you did , letting his fingers caress from your pubic bone down to your pussy , fingers tracing the shape of your folds just to get a feel before letting his wet digits caress over your clit as well ── he could feel it , feel the way your clit was twitching under the pads of his fingers from the short touch.

His eyes then glanced at you.

"Did I say you could stop stimulating your nipples? Keep going ... it makes you feel good , no?", his words held some authority in them even though he wasn't even intending for them to sound like that , but it certainly got your pussy clenching around nothing , impatiently waiting for his fingers to stuff it.

And your pussy would have smiled in glee once they did , two of his slender digits slowly pressing against your entrance before pushing in , his eyes watching how your entrance slowly stretched around them. He could feel it , feel how warm and wet your pussy was , how you velvety walls stretched to welcome his fingers inside. He once again was fascinated by the female human body.

Oh and the slow sigh of relief you let out when he was knuckle deep inside , your walls shifting and pulsing around his fingers with every breath you took , now what would happen when he'd move his fingers?

A quiet moan left your lips as he started to slowly pump his fingers , curling them slightly to let the pads of fingers drag up against your g spot. He was loving this. Loving how your pussy just welcomed in , how sweet you sounded whenever he hit the spot with a little bit of force , how he could feel the way your soft warm walls tightened and relaxed around his fingers ── he wanted more.

It was as if he had gained a rush of confidence , knowing how he was making you feel good without even trying ── he was experiencing and learning how to treat your body. Every moan , whimper or soft sigh you let out ── it just made him want to do so much more. Robots couldn't feel horny, they couldn't feel lust or arousal ── but you sure made him feel those emotions. His fingers pumped inside your pussy with a faster pace , his thumb stroking your clit in a slower pace so he wouldn't be too rough on you and a rush of excitement rushed through his system as he felt your pussy clenching around his fingers ── you were close.

"Why?", you whined out as your eyes shot open , an almost pitiful expression on your face as your orgasm got ripped away from you , your pussy clenching around nothing as he had pulled his fingers out.

He just leaned in and placed a kiss on your clit , chuckling under his breath when he saw how your body twitched ── a human's body could be so sensitive , it was cute to him , you were cute to him.

"I want to have sex with you", he sat up , looking at you with sparkly eyes ── he wanted to learn more , so much more. He wanted to put his cock to good use. His words , once again , left you stunned. He was so blunt with his words that it just left you stunned.

You thought for a second. Did you even want it? Fuck yeah , you did. You didn't even know robots could feel lust. It was as if he was able to read your mind , maybe he could.

"Robots don't feel lust or arousal... but you somehow made me able to .... have this desire for you. I want more. I want to hear and see more , i want to feel more. I want to put my cock to good use and make you feel good. You sound so pretty when you're receiving pleasure and enjoy yourself", his words had your cheeks rushing with blood again , your heart pounding harder against your chest and you could feel your clit twitching just because of those words alone.

"Okay.... let's have sex , make me feel good Sunghoon", god did you sound even better when you said his name in that breathless voice of yours and his fingers didn't waste a second to quickly take his clothes off ── it was only fair if he was completely naked as well.

It was a bit comical that his cock was hard in just a second , as if your words were a verbal command to his system to harden it ── again , technology never failed to surprise you.

"Can you just turn that on and off however you like?", you asked with a giggle but you were genuinely curious. He nodded his head.

"I can actually , meaning that I can go as long as you want or until you're satisfied. I don't have a stamina limit", he replied back as his hand wrapped around the girth of his cock while you reached for your nightstand to take out a bottle of lube.

"Are those anal beads , a vibrator and a butt plug?"

You shrieked and slammed the drawer shut , his eyes curious as they looked at you. "I'm sorry , was that embarrassing for you again? Don't feel embarrassed about it. If that's what you're into , embrace it with confidence. A healthy sex life is good", you just felt even more embarrassed from his words but also better about yourself , didn't stop you feeling embarrassed though.

You just held the bottle of lube out to him which he took , squirting some of the gel like liquid onto his cock to spread it with his hand and also spread some on your entrance.

He wiped his lube-covered hand on his shirt , making a mental note not to wear it again before washing it and grabbed your legs , pulling you closer until the head of his cock was nudging your clit.

"I'll be slow", he reassured as he saw you glancing down at his cock with concern , his cock now looking even bigger than before now that it was nudging against your clit.

He took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours , his other hand guiding his cock from your clit down your slit until the head of his cock was pressing against your entrance and slowly pushed it in.

His cock was cold but quickly got warm as your heat embraced it. He was taking his time , pushing inch after inch slowly after waiting a couple seconds whenever you took another inch in. His whole cock didn't fit inside of you so he left it be , it wasn't as if he could feel pleasure anyway ── your comfort was his comfort , so was your pleasure.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as he slowly started to move , his cock was slightly curved which made the head of his cock press right against your gspot whenever he made it all the way back against your cervix.

He was being so slow and gentle until you told him to go a bit faster , your moans and whimpers of his name bouncing off the walls. His pace quickened again , his eyes focused on your face and how you were trembling beneath him , how your fingers pressed into the back of his hand and he felt it again ── he once again felt how your pussy clenched around his cock harder than before , as if you were afraid he'd rip another orgasm right under your fingertips again.

And the moan you let out once you came , how your walls quivered around his length and how your back arched off the bed ── he was obsessed with it. Giving you pleasure and making you feel good , that was his pleasure.

Chapter 6 : To Love

"So , you're telling me that you had sex with your uhm Robot 'boyfriend' and that you love him?", Yunjin asked as if she wasn't surprised by this at all , sipping on her iced americano as she looked at you.

You just nodded your head.

"Yeah well ... i told him that I only bought him as a Joke and that yes , he technically was my boyfriend but I didn't had any feelings for him there... He just , treats me so well and actually made me fall for him. It's just so weird because he's a Robot but he is all I want and I will never find someone like him again ── with the same looks and character. What will people think , Yunjin? They'll judge me for it", you sighed out , running your fingers through your hair to soothe yourself. She placed her hand on top of yours.

"(Y/n) , we live in the future. Half of the globe gets ruled by Robots. If you really love him and are happy with him , that's good. Do your thing and stop caring about what other's think. Most people won't even notice that he's a robot with how humane he is. My partner even is a robot and you've never noticed it because they're so humane. Look at that couple over there , the Woman is also a robot but acts so humane ── anyone would think they're two humans in love", you hummed and nodded your head , she's right , nobody gives a shit if you date a robot or not.

"You're right... I'll go tell him that I want him to be my boyfriend", you said as you suddenly sat him , every ounce of embarrassment or shame fading into thin air. You wanted to scream at Sunghoon that you love him.

....

and you did. Now it was his turn to be stunned.

"Woah Woah Woah, you didn't need to scream at me", Sunghoon chuckled as he took his apron off. You had ambushed him in the middle of cooking. He folded his apron and placed it to the side , his feet carrying him over to you , an almost smug expression on his face.

"So my plan to make you fall for me worked?", he chuckled , feeling happy about it while his hands found their way to your waist to pull you towards him.

"It did... you've ruined every man for me that I could've possibly liked. You're the one for me ... robot or not , you're just for me", you mumbled as you rested your hands on his chest , feeling the way the mechanics in his body turned under the palm of your hands.

He stayed silent for a second , his right hand grabbing one of your hands to guide it up to his lips , his lips leaving a kiss that lingered on the back of your hand.

"I'm glad... because you were able to make a Robot fall in love with you. You make me wish that I had a beating a heart , a warm body out of blood and flesh , emotions that aren't programmed into me ── you make me wish I was a human. You made me realize and learn what love was and felt like , a feeling i have developed for you. I love you , (Y/n)", his words made you smile softly , your heartbeat getting faster and you leaned your head against his chest , your arms wrapping around his waist.

"I love you too, Sunghoon"

He wrapped his arms around you , holding you in a soft and gentle embrace with his lips pressing against your forehead ── but there was a sour expression on his face.

Why did he have to be a robot? He wanted to be a Human so he could love you even more than he already did.

[ikeuwoniee]

࿐second chances - l.hs

He calls her after work just to hear her fall apart for him. The next night, she’s in his bed, legs shaking around his head, soaking the sheets with every breathless thank you.

pairing: single dad! boss! heeseung x secretary! fem reader

genres: office romance, smut, angst, second chance, contemporary

This content is only for readers 18+

content warning: strong language, power dynamics, sensitive themes, sexual content, angst, brief mentions of alcohol, discussions of infertility, discussions of pregnancy, low self-worth talk/self-esteem issues, grief mention, detailed smut, 18+ themes

smut warning: kissing, making-out, oral sex(fem receiving), unprotected sex(please don't!) praise kink, verbal breeding kink, mutual masturbation (phone), mention of vibrator usage, interrupted intimacy, soft dom!Heeseung, creampie, crying during sex, emotional vulnerability

word count: 10.6k

soundtrack: daylight-taylor swift/ let me love you like a woman-lana del rey/ earned it- the weekend

College was a long, long four years. Sleepless nights and all-nighters, good professors and bad ones.

To be honest, it didn’t live up to your expectations. 

At all.

Your grades were top of your class but in the romance department, you failed with a zero.

Freshman year went by, and no boyfriend, sophomore year? still no boyfriend. Junior and senior year? Too busy with homework to even try.

But that wasn’t your main goal anyway. Studies were always number one.

You rarely went to any parties, and rarely had any hookups because honestly?

You had essays due at 11:59.

It went by quickly and before you knew it you were tossing your tassel and walking across the graduation stage. A smile plastered across your face and an ache in your heart. 

You did it. You truly did it. 

Now on to adulthood, your carefree years are left behind in the dust.

 You felt pressure the minute you walked off that stage. So, so much pressure.

From weddings and baby showers to getting bombarded with questions at every single. holiday dinner. 

“When are you getting married?  “When are you going to have kids? You aren’t getting any younger.” “I know we told you to focus on your studies but you should think about settling down.” 

When you were offered a position at the biggest marketing agency in the city you were swift to accept. Ready to transition from campus life to corporate life. 

The first few months were rough, but you pushed through. Before you knew it you were fitting right in.

Professionally sent emails, a schedule full of meetings, and coffee perfectly sweetened and delivered to your boss right on time. 

Soon you were caught up in the routine of your 9-5. 

Wake up. 

Commute.

Work.

Commute.

Sleep. 

The American dream you were sold. Yet you still felt so empty, like something was constantly missing.

Your hard work quickly paid off. Soon the company was promoting you to the role of assistant creative director. And with the pay raise came more responsibility—and more mental strain. 

Heeseung Lee, your new boss, didn’t seem thrilled. 

He seemed like he was always giving you a task to keep you as far away from him as possible. But being the hardworking woman you are, you complied.

You had an image to keep up anyway.

You didn’t know much about him. He mostly kept to himself, always buried in work from dawn until dusk. Never really gave you a second glance unless he needed an errand run. Or his coffee refilled.

You woke up to the same blare of your alarm. Starting the day off like all the others. Picking out another navy blue pantsuit and pairing it with some pumps and your work tote. 

You tie up your hair professionally, do some minimal makeup to compliment your features, and spray your favorite perfume. 

You’re out the door just in time. Driving the same sluggish commute to the office. The same songs still playing on the radio. 

As you wind through the crowded city streets the office building becomes visible in the distance.

The unchanging, rising floors and perfectly polished glass reflect the blue of the sky. The logos were perfectly stamped onto the top of the building and the doors. 

You step into the empty elevator and ride it up to the marketing floor. The large windows overlook the bustling city below, letting the sun's rays into the concrete structure. 

Your heels click against the floor, echoing in the empty hall as you make your way toward your desk—which just happens to be room next to Heeseung’s.

You set down your keys and bag before pulling out your laptop to get to work. 

You’re lost in thought and focused on getting a head start on the day. Make a list of clients to contact, things to print, and a schedule of meetings for your boss.

You hardly even notice the sound of the elevator opening with a quiet, ding!

You glance at the clock, no one besides you ever comes to the office this early. You watch through the glass prying your gaze overtop the desktop curiously to see who it could be.

Your boss steps out of the elevator, tie loose and crooked, shirt wrinkled, hair down, You’ve never seen him show up this…messy?

Immediately your interest is piqued. Your eyes narrow with confusion as you watch him stumble into the office, coffee in one hand and laptop tucked under the other arm. You glance down and notice a small boy clinging to his leg. 

He drags himself across the office floor and the boy latches onto his pant leg. You smile softly as you watch through the glass. Wondering who’s kid your stoic boss got stuck parenting this morning. 

 “Daddy I want pancakes!” The little boy yells. 

“Shhhhh inside voice Cal-“ Heeseung says to the boy as he covers his mouth in an attempt to muffle his echoed pleas for pancakes. 

Dad? Heeseung? A Father? You had no idea. You’ve never seen him wear a ring, he never seemed like the family type either.

No pictures of a family framed on his desk like your other coworkers.  You ponder, all of a sudden invested in knowing way more about his personal life than you should. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you decide to confidently step out of the office, pretending not to notice him. 

Heeseung's eyes shoot wide as he hears the sound of your heels on the tile floor.

 “Morning.” He says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from the compromising position you caught him in. He’s visibly flustered.

Again that's a first.

You don’t know what comes over you. Before you know it you're simply leaning in to help. 

“Morning! Didn’t know you were bringing a guest today.” You say with a soft smile to the boy, waving to him as you step closer. 

You gently glance at Heeseung, his expression overwhelmed and stressed. He can’t even fight you as you take the coffee and laptop from his hands.

His shoulders physically drop with the release of the tension. 

Your fingertips brush against the warmth of his as you take the now cold coffee cup from his hand, leaning in and getting a whiff of his cologne as you take the laptop.

You feel his warmth as you do, his scent is woody and inviting. Again you’ve never been this close.

And it's making your heart race.

“Up we go-“ Heeseung says, picking up the still visibly angry boy in his arms as he follows you into his office. You set down his things on the mahogany desk and he closes the door behind you. 

Heeseung lets the boy down, and he instantly starts bouncing off the walls and running circles around his desk. He Jumps up and down on the small leather couch. Heeseung sighs as he looks over at you.

Helpless.

“The nanny I hired walked out on me at the last minute. I just didn’t know what else to do.” Heeseung mumbles under his breath. 

He rubs the back of his neck, You’ve never seen him so unguarded before.

“Callum down! No jumping!” Heeseung haggles as he pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve some of the headache. 

Callum, that must be his son, he looks maybe around four years old. It’s clear he’s full of lots of energy.

He also appears to be protesting his no-pancake breakfast.

Heeseung lets out another sigh, visibly stressed beyond anything you've ever seen. His shoulders are tense, so tense as his son only makes more and more noise.

It makes your heart ache, without even thinking you step in.

“Callum, do you want to color?” You say kindly, you don’t even know what’s taken over you, it just hurts to see your boss looking like a stressed-out mess.

And to be fair, you are his assistant. It’s your job to lend a hand.

You gather some copy paper from his desk before opening the drawers. You shuffle through the sea of sticky notes and paper clips before finding a few colored highlighters scattered around.

“I love to color!” Callum says as he jumps off the couch and onto the floor. 

With the office supplies in hand, you lie on the rug, kicking your heels off in the process. You don’t even notice Heeseung staring at you in awe as Callum takes the green highlighter from your hand and starts to scribble on the page. 

And for the first time since Heeseung walked through the door, it’s quiet. 

“Can you add a dinosaur? Pretty please!!!” Callum says cheerfully as the two of you continue to scribble your masterpiece onto the paper. 

“I can try…” you say with a weak giggle as you use the best of your ability to draw the shape of a dinosaur from memory. Letting your fingertips lightly brush the pens across the white pages.

Heeseung just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest with a stupid grin on his face. You look good, a little too good.

Shit...

He’s snapped out of his trance when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He immediately steps out leaving just you and Callum alone for a moment. 

You watch through the glass. There he goes again, stressed and frustrated. His shoulders tight on the call, his hand roughly raking through his already messy hair. 

After a few moments, he aggressively ends the call and steps back in, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his dress pants. 

“Sorry I’ve got to jump on a quick meeting, I didn’t notice the time got changed,” Heeseung says frantically as he grabs his laptop, his eyes wide as he looks between you and Callum. Like he just doesn’t know exactly what to do.

“You go, I can handle this,” you say, chest fluttering as you see his expression melt. You’ve never seen him so soft. 

“I owe you one, you’re a lifesaver,” Heeseung says breathlessly as he turns out the door, he looks back once, heart melting at the sight.

He looks back once more before rounding the corner to the conference hall. 

You and Callum are left alone in the office, you keep him entertained. Thankful that you came in early to get a head start on the day.

It’s easy to give him your full attention knowing you have an empty to-do list.

You get comfortable, taking off your navy blue blazer and tossing it onto the back of his office chair.

You slide your heels under the desk, watching Callum fill up sheet after sheet of paper with colorful, creative pieces of art.

“I like you more than the other lady,” Callum mumbles as he lies on the ground, brows furrowed as he focuses on coloring in the rough outlined shapes. 

“You do?” You question him with a sweet voice. You lean down next to him, taking one of the highlighters in your hand as you mindlessly start to draw on another sheet of paper next to him.

“Are you going to be my new mommy? I miss having a mom.” The boy mutters, his expression hopeful. 

Your heart drops. Is Heeseung taking care of him all by himself? You can only imagine how much stress he’s under juggling work life and home life too. 

You chuckle weakly as you continue to watch him scribble on the pages.

“That’s not really how it works Callum.” You inform kindly.

After about half an hour of coloring and dinosaur talk, Heeseung comes around the corner. You catch a glimpse of him through the glass and you swear your heart skips another beat.

“Daddy!” Callum says as he jumps up and runs into his Dad's legs as he stands in the doorway.

“Were you good for her Cal?” Heeseung asks, glancing at you briefly, his expression softening as he steps into the office and sets his laptop down on the desk.

You start to clean up the mess. Highlighters, pens, and paper scattered all over the floor, your hair a mess, blazer tossed somewhere to the side. You smile softly as you listen to the interaction. 

You catch another whiff of his cologne, woody, warm, and masculine. There it goes again, your heart skipping a beat.

“He’s a good kid.” You say with a smile on your face as you unintentionally lock eyes with Heeseung. He can’t help but smile back at you. 

You’re snapped out of your gaze when Callum tugs at the edge of your shirt. 

“Are you leaving? Please don’t leave! Daddy, can she come home with us?” Callum cries out. 

Heeseung lets out another weak laugh. Face flushing with embarrassment.

“Cal, she's got her own home to go to.” Heeseung watches, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. 

“Daddy I like her!” Callum says. Heeseung’s expression softens at his words.

His eyes linger on your expression as he pulls a granola bar out of one of the drawers of his desk. He softly breaks it into small pieces before handing it to Callum. 

“Chocolate Chip! Your favorite…” Heeseung mutters as he watches Callum let go of your shirt, running to take the Granola bar out of his hand. It's quiet while he munches away at his morning snack.

With free hands, Heeseung steps away from his desk moving even closer to you. Your heart rate picks up. Beating fast as you notice just how attractive he looks in the low light.

He’s young, he can’t be much older than you are. As you study his face you notice his expression changing, flickering with surprise, gratitude even.

“You’re really good with him. He’s never like this with anyone else.” Heeseung says to you his voice soft, just above a whisper. 

“I worked at a daycare in college, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You say playfully, an unfamiliar warmth starts to pool in your stomach. You push it down in an attempt to keep the feelings strictly professional.

“You’re a natural, I didn’t know you had this side to you.” He says casually leaning up against the desk.

Your eyes linger on the way his body fills up his suit. The fabric straining against his muscles as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Likewise, didn’t know you had the cutest little boy around. He's real special..” You say as you casually slip back into your work pumps, smoothing out the wrinkles of your blouse.

You flush, noticing Heesueng’s eyes lingering on your fingertips, mentally tracing the curves of your body.

After a long moment, Heeseung shakes his head trying to snap himself out of, whatever he’s feeling.

“He deserves the world and I—I  wish I could give it to him,” Heeseung confesses his voice low, almost sounding defeated.

“You’re doing enough…trust me. I couldn’t imagine being in your shoes. Especially with that ball of energy.” You say truthfully, your gaze lingering on him for another second too long. Noticing the way his dark hair compliments his eyes. 

Heeseung nervously clears his throat, his cheeks flushing as the noise smacks you out of your trance with a nervous laugh.

Heeseung hesitates, there's a moment of comfortable silence before he speaks up. “Well I have another meeting at 12, and I’ve got a presentation I need to work on for Friday, I don’t know how I'm going to get it all done—”

“Don’t worry, I can watch him. I’ll order him some food and keep him entertained while you work.” You interrupt with a soft smile. Your fingertips mindlessly adjust your hair, making his heart flutter. 

“If that's okay with you?” You add nervously.

“Are you sure you really don’t have to…” Heeseung mutters, but you can tell from his body language he’s secretly relieved and deeply grateful for the offer.

“I want to, I’ve pretty much got a blank schedule today so I don’t mind.” You say as Callum finishes his granola and runs back towards the two of you. Leaving a messy pile of crumbs where he sat and ate his snack.

He gently clings to the side of your leg, gripping the fabric of your dress pants. 

Heeseung takes one look and he just can’t say no. 

“Daddy! Can we play some more!” Callum says as he tugs at the side of your pant leg. 

Heeseung smiles, this time it's different, authentic. 

“I’ll be back around 5.”

And with that, he leaves you two in the office to make it your very own personal playground.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The sun starts to set letting hues of orange and pink seep through the office windows.

5pm rolls around and  Heeseung couldn’t be more than happy to be done with his tedious work.

His breath catches as he turns the corner of the hall. Heart softening as he finds the state of the two of you. 

You’re still lying on the rug, barefoot, and with your hair loose as you type away at your laptop. Typical of you to get a head start on some work for tomorrow. 

Callum rests his head on your leg as he sleeps peacefully. His little chest rises and falls with soft breaths as he dozes off peacefully.

You don’t even notice Heeseung standing in the doorway again, as you continue to work.

Remnants of a door-dashed chicken nugget meal is left right next to you. A little bit of ketchup staining Callum’s dinosaur shirt. 

Callum is fed, asleep, and happy. 

That makes today a win. 

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for this,” Heeseung speaks up as he steps into the room. His voice was soft enough to catch your attention but not to wake Callum. 

You flinch as you hear his voice, unaware that he was watching you for the last few minutes completely enthralled with what he was seeing.

“Is it 5:00 already?” You ask tearing your gaze away from your laptop to glance at Heeseung leaning against the doorframe. His tight blazer rode up just enough to reveal his strong build underneath his slim white shirt. 

“5:16 actually,” Heeseung says matter-of-factly. He drags himself into the room, setting down his laptop and keeling down to help clean up the mess. 

He starts to pick up the food trash, gathering up all the pens and markers. A few pages are scattered across the floor. He smiles as he flips through the drawings. 

Dinosaurs, castles, sharks—his heart stops when he sees messily drawn stick figures in front of a house. 

It’s a boy with black hair, a tall man with the same, and a woman that looks a lot like you. 

Callum drew this, little stick figures in front of his home, a family. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything to you, he just continues to clean and pack up letting Callum rest on your leg peacefully. But his heart is thumping in his ears.

Imagining you with Callum, in his home. Imagining you in his bed—

He stops himself. You’re his assistant for God’s sake, not a free babysitter. You come here to get a check just like he does. Not to live out some fantasy that he knows is out of reach. 

Heeseung glances at the picture on his desk just one more time. He keeps telling himself it’s asking too much, and that having a family like that is impossible for him.

He tries, but his heart is tugging in another direction. 

There are hardly any words spoken between you as Heeseung packs up his things. The rest of the staff was already gone leaving the office dim and cold and empty.

You gently pick up Callum. He stirs slightly as you hold him up against your hip. You slip back into your shoes, and without even asking, Heeseung grabs the rest of your things. 

The elevator ride down is quiet. The only sound is the soft hum of the cables and Callum’s soft sleepy breaths against your shoulder.

Your heels click against the concrete as you carry Callum to the parking garage. Heeseung keeps glancing at you briefly, not being able to hold contact too long. Like he’s still trying to keep you at a distance, but he's failing. 

“The black Kia is mine…” Heeseung says softly as he leads you through the empty parking garage to the back row of parking spots.

Once you reach the car he opens the back door for you. Letting you easily slide Callum into his car seat. You don’t even notice the drool left on your white shirt as you buckle him into the car. 

Heeseung just stands watching from the side. You look incredible, and he notices the drool left on your corporate attire.

You just look so right, feel so right. But he knows it’s not right in the slightest.

Once Callum is bucked in you shut the door to the black SUV turning to take your blazer, laptop, and workbag from Heeseungs arms.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for me today,” Heeseung says softly, his tone truthfully like he means every word as he passes you your things.

“Anytime. Callum is worth it.” You say softly as you slip back into your navy blue blazer. 

“Here let me repay you for the Happy Meal I—“ 

“Don’t. Please. It’s my pleasure truly.”  You say as you playfully 'shh' him with your fingertips. His cheeks flushed a soft pink at the gesture.

You don’t even realize just how close you are. 

There’s a pause. It’s not awkward just heavy. Like you can feel the thoughts racing through your head and his.

You catch a breath as he stares down into your eyes, his gaze lingering across every one of your features. 

He hesitates, not wanting to cross a line, but God he wants to. He reaches out his hand, gently cupping the sides of your face, his thumbs brushing against the warmth of your cheeks.

You swear you can hear the beat of your heart echoing through the empty car garage. 

“You are so kind, so beautiful…” Heeseung mutters under his breath. His gaze locked on you like he’s in a trance. His fingertips gently brush against your soft skin. 

He leans in, his lips almost touching yours. His breath is hot against you. The woody and masculine smell of his fading cologne fills your senses. Reminding you how quickly the distance is shrinking between you.

The moment is charged, you both know you shouldn’t. But you're dying to have a taste of his perfectly shaped lips. 

“You really saved me today, I can’t say thank you enough” Heeseung whispers. Tension sizzles while his heart feels conflicted all at once.

But right now, off the clock, he’s feeling everything he’s been pushing down since the day you were promoted.

 Right now, you’re not just his assistant. You’re the generous, intelligent, attractive woman that he's been pushing away since day one.

His eyes find yours again, and he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

He’s scared but also excited. Maybe you could be something more.

“Then don’t say it.” You mutter softly… Your eyes widen as you realize what just slipped out of your mouth. 

Heeseung chuckles again. The sound makes your stomach flip as his dark eyes flick down to your perfectly shaped lips. 

His breath catches.

He hesitates.

But closes the distance. 

He leans in and captures your soft lips with his own. The kiss is soft, gentle, barely there like he’s trying to say goodbye and thank you all at once.

Your breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel the warmth of his lips against your own. You feel the tension slipping from your body as you kiss him back with a soft sigh.

You slowly move your hands letting them rest against his chest, gently pulling at the cool fabric of his button-up shirt. 

His lips brush against yours again, barely capturing your lips with his own, keeping his distance in case you want to pull away.

You don’t. 

You can’t help but lean into it. His lips are soft and feather-like. You gasp into his mouth, heart-thumping in your chest.

Your breath hitches, and Heeseung smirks. Noticing the effect he’s having on you. 

The kiss lingers, for two seconds, maybe three. After a short moment, he pulls away. His breath still mingling with your own.

His lips were pink and plump from the kiss. He lets his fingertips linger on your skin before reluctantly pulling them away. Leaving you with a shiver of cold without his warmth. 

“Damn,” Heeseung whispers breathlessly under his breath as he puts a few more inches of cold distance between you.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” You tease with a soft smirk as you lean down to pick up the rest of your things, face burning as you realize—

You just kissed your boss.

“I’ve wanted to try that for longer than you think” Heeseung teases back as he nervously pulls his gaze away from you to dig in his pocket for his car keys.

The tension is heavy between you two, like you both want to say so much but the words just won't come out.

“I should get going it’s getting late—” You say nervously adjusting the wrinkled collar of your shirt in an attempt to ease some of the thick tension.

“You’re right, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Heeseung questions hopefully. His eyes lingered on you once again.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” You reply as you turn on your heel to walk towards your car, scared of what would happen if you stayed a moment longer.

“Drive safe…” Heeseung calls out behind you as he leans against the side of his car, watching as you walk across the garage before stepping into your car.

You pull the driver's side door shut with a slam. Letting out a loud heavy breath of relief as you try to process what just happened. 

Heeseung is a father. Exhausted, attractive, and kissing you like a fucking dream.

A problem in the making.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You can’t stop thinking about the day as you finally arrive home. You aggressively throw your things down on the kitchen counter and make your way straight for the shower. 

Hopefully, that will help clear your mind. 

You step into the shower washing your hair and skin. You can’t stop thinking about Heeseung’s gentle glances. About Callum's sweet laughter. All the things confessed and how natural everything felt in the chaos.

The weight of the day finally catches up to you as you change into a satin pair of pajamas and slide into bed.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. 

Just as you shut your eyes your phone vibrates and buzzes on the nightstand. You groan, lazily grabbing it, the illuminating screen hurting your eyes as you look at it in the darkness.

It’s Heeseung. 

At this hour? He can't be calling about presentations or pamphlets that need to be made. Your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

On the third ring, you pick up. 

“Hello?” You say into the phone with a professional tone.

“Hey sorry to bother you this late. You’re still up?” Heeseung asks.

You hear the rustling of sheets through the other side of the line and it only piques your interest. 

“Wouldn’t be talking to you if I wasn’t.” You say playfully in response. 

There’s a soft pause, the sound of your ceiling fan creaking overtop your bed the only thing that cuts through the breathing. 

“Hey about the kiss, I hope I want to cross a line or anything. I want to apologize—“ Heeseung breathes out.

“No trust me, you don’t have to apologize.” You say, your heart beating faster the longer the call goes on. 

Heeseung bites his lip, contemplating if he wants to say what he’s thinking. 

“I liked it, a lot actually and I would do it again,” Heeseung confesses, his voice shaky you can almost see how red he is behind the screen.

“Oh yeah?” You reply, your thighs already clenching together under the covers just at the sound of his voice. 

“I want to do more than just kiss you actually—God I shouldn’t be saying this. Maybe I should hang up,” Heeseung confesses, his voice heavy as your phone picks up the sound of more sheets rustling. 

 “Please don’t.” You plead. Your voice was shaky as it cuts through the silence. There’s another quiet pause before Heeseung softly interrupts.

“…what are you wearing?” He asks curiously with a whisper. His voice hits through the phone as you hold it to your ear.

“Satin..nothing underneath.” You say with a shaky breath. 

“Fuck. That’s hot.” Heeseung says into the phone as you hear more sounds of him from the other side. He lets a quiet breathily moan slip from his lips.

“I wish I was there. The things I would do to you, for you…” Heeseung mumbles his voice softly trailing off. 

“What things?” You ask, your voice a soft gasp catching in your throat. 

“I would kiss you again, letting my hands slide that satin off your pretty skin. Then I would kiss down your neck, letting you moan into my ear. I bet you’d sound so pretty.” Heeseung confesses. 

You imagine it, your thighs squeezing together at the thought, you’re heart beating faster as you hear his breaths getting heavier. 

“Fuck..” Heeseung gasps with a soft moan. Your eyes roll back in response as your free hand traces lower until it’s slipping into the satin fabric of your shorts.

“Then I’d kiss down your body. Down until I was kneeled between your legs, tasting you. Worshiping you, a real thank you compared to that kiss.” Heeseung gasps as you hear the bed creek underneath him on the other side of the phone. 

You moan at the thought, you don’t even realize it slipped past your lips right through the other side of the call. 

“Shit—“ you gasp your fingers slowing their movement between your legs. 

“You touching yourself?” Heeseung whispers. 

“Yeah..” you reply, your cheeks burning hot as you do. Not completely from embarrassment but maybe from how much you’re enjoying this.

“Me too…I’m so hard just thinking about you..” Heeseung says as he’s cut off with another soft groan. 

“Fuck—“ you curse as you grab some of the wetness leaking from your hole before dragging it up to your clit working small circles on yourself. 

“I’d be so good to you. Lying you back, fucking you in missionary so I can watch your pretty face.” Heeseung gasps, his breath heavy as his hand moves against himself.

“God, your voice..” you gasp as you rub yourself faster adding more pressure between your thighs. 

“Let me hear you. Fuck let me hear those pretty sounds..” Heeseung commands through the line, and the phone picks up the sound of his sharp breaths.

Your thighs shake as you push yourself further, getting lost in the image of his mouth on your pussy before sliding his cock into it. You close your eyes, letting his breaths turn you on more. 

“Daddy?” You hear softly from the other side of the phone.

 Everything stops. 

“What is it, Cal?” You hear Heeseung's muffled voice as the sheets are aggressively tossed on the other side of the phone. The room goes quiet as you hear him jump up from the bed

After a moment he comes back. 

“Shit—I’ve got to take care of him...I’m sorry..” Heeseung says frantically. 

“It’s ok I understand…have a goodnight.” You reply softly. 

“You too, goodnight,” Heeseung replies before hitting the red button on the screen leaving you completely in silence. 

You let out a sigh of pure disappointment as you turn to dig through your bedside table to find your vibrator.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The next day you show up to the office early. Partly because you always do and partly because you couldn’t hardly sleep at all.

Not after that call.

You remember the empty feeling of having the most unsatisfying orgasm ever. Your fingers and toys feel like nothing compared to his voice turning you on.

You shake your head trying to clear your head of the thoughts. Last night shouldn’t have happened, and you can’t let it interfere with your work. 

You pull your laptop out of your bag and immediately start to skim through your inbox, making the usual list of clients to call and meetings to attend. You’re quickly interrupted by a knock. 

You glance at the door as Heeseung steps in. His blazer unbuttoned along with the top buttons of his white shirt. His tie hangs loosely around his neck.

You immediately notice the bags around his eyes suggesting he didn’t get much sleep either.

“How’s Callum?” You ask honestly. 

“My nephew is home from college today so he’s watching him,” Heeseung says casually as he steps into the room closing the door shut behind him. 

“Can we talk about yesterday?” He asks as leans against the side of your desk. His blazer is tight as he crosses his arms.

“You think this is a good time to bring up the phone sex we had before your son walked in?” You tease casually as you continue to scribble notes onto your planner. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, trust me,” Heeseung murmurs his voice dropping an octave as he leans in close. 

“It’s okay I had my vibrator finish the job.” You tease matter-of-factly. 

“Now that’s cruel,” Heeseung says with a soft chuckle. The same laugh that was making you lose it yesterday. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You reply, already feeling yourself getting worked up again.

The warmth between your thighs, the flush in your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.” Heeseung states as he glances deeply into your eyes. Like he’s pleading with you to not shut him out. 

You sit back in your office chair as he rounds the desk, you let him step closer, breath catching as he leans in. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will...” he whispers as he gently cups the side of your face again, his eyes flicking down to stare at your lips. 

You remember exactly how it felt in the parking garage, how warm and wet and inviting his kisses were. You’d be a fool to say no. 

Heeseung closes the distance his lips strongly clashing into yours. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction at the contact. 

Your hands slide to the back of his neck, fingertips tangling in his dark hair as your lips move in synch. 

This time the kiss isn’t gentle and soft, it’s intense and full of need. 

You gasp for air as he pulls away only for your lips to capture his again. Your lipstick smudges down your chin as Heeseung sucks and nips at your swollen lips. 

You part your lips in invitation and Heeseung swiftly accepts. Gently pushing your lips open further with his tongue as he slips into your mouth. 

You whimper as you taste the remnants of his morning coffee on his tongue.

“God you’re so—“ Heeseung gasps as he pulls away an inch to catch his breath. Your lipstick smudged across his lips and chin. 

Heeseungs brows furrow as his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls away, keeping one hand resting on your waist as he answers. 

The phone screen flashes ‘Riki’ with an option to pick up or decline.

“It’s my nephew— I have to take this...” Heesung grumbles as he keeps one hand resting on you, not wanting to completely pull out of the moment just yet.

“He’s sick? Fever?” You hear Heeseung say with a concerned tone of voice. His expression drops as he stays on the call. 

You watch with concern. After a few more moments of muffled talking from the other side, he hangs up. Letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Callum’s running a fever now…and I have a meeting at 4. I won’t be able to get to him and Riki just isn’t exactly—“

“Do you want me to pick him up?” You offer, secretly excited to see the little ball of energy again even if he is under the weather. 

Heeseung doesn’t even speak, he just kisses you again.

Another thank you, another promise. 

“I don’t want to push my luck— but if you wouldn’t mind.” Heeseung gasps against your lips. The tension was visibly relieved at your request.

“Text me the address, I’ve got you.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

**arrived**

The GPS beeps as you pull into the driveway of Heeseung's house. It’s a small modest home in a quiet neighborhood.

The outside was neglected. The grass was overgrown and the flowerbeds were messy.  

Heeseung pulls in right behind you. He swiftly puts the car in park, running right to your side. 

“How is he?” Heeseung asks frantically as he watches you lean into the backseat of your car to unbuckle Callum from his car seat. 

“He’s got a fever for sure, poor baby says his stomach has been hurting too.” You say with a sharp groan as you pull a sleepy Callum out of the backseat of your car. 

“There’s some medicine in the CVS bag up front I bought it just in case.” You say breathlessly as you balance a very sleepy Callum on your hip. 

Heeseung grabs the bag of medicine and locks up the cars behind you. He jogs awkwardly to catch up to you and unlock the door. 

Your heart softens as you step into the warmth of his home. The home is small but it looks lived in. 

Callum’s drawings on the fridge, days of unopened mail stacked up on the kitchen countertops, and Legos spilled across the carpet. 

You can’t explain the feeling any other way besides, right? 

Not perfect, just right. 

And maybe the imperfect is whats been filling that empty feeling in both of you. 

You kick your heels off at the door, letting your bare feet hit the carpet as you lie Callum down on the living room couch. 

He’s half awake, burning up, cheeks red. 

Heeseung is right behind you, opening up the medicine and pouring the syrup into a small cup. 

“Cal you need to take some medicine if you want to feel better,” Heeseung says softly as he kneels next to him. 

“No! I don’t like the red flavor it’s yucky.” Callum protests as he tries to knock the medicine out of Heeseungs hands. 

“Cal-“ he grunts with frustration as some of the medicine spills on his black suit. 

“Callum…” you say with a soft, soothing voice as you kneel next to him, your hands stroking through his hair. The same dark shade as his dad's. 

“If you want your tummy to stop hurting you have to take the medicine. You can do it, Callum..” you say softly as you rake your fingertips through his hair trying to calm his anxiety.

“I don’t wanna-“ Callum whines.

“What if I hold your hand? And we count to three?” You suggest lovingly.

Callum stirs but that seems to do the trick. You hold his little hand in yours as you start to count. 

“One”

“Two”

“Three”

With a sharp breath, Heeseung puts the cup to his lips, holding it there until he swallows it in a few shaky gulps. 

“There you go…see it wasn’t so bad.” You praise, gently patting his back softly. 

“You ready for bed Cal?” Heeseung whispers, his fingertips brushing against his forehead again to feel his fever.

“Is she leaving?” Callum whispers. 

You pause. Heart fluttering in your chest.

Are you leaving? 

“Can you tuck me in? That's what mommy used to do.” Callum asks, his little voice shaky as he sniffles.

You’re heart sinks. You don’t say anything.

You quickly glance at Heeseung for approval and he nods. 

You pick Callum up off the couch and Heeseung leads to down the dark hall to his room. There are toys all over the floor, mismatched furnishings, and the walls decorated with his finger paintings and prints of his favorite characters. 

You lie him down on the small bed tucked in the corner, pulling the blankets up and tucking him at the sides to keep him comfortable. 

Heeseung watches leaning against the edge of the doorframe. His heart felt warm and full at the sight.

He knows he can’t let you go tonight, not after this. 

He thought he could do this alone, thought he was the type of man that could juggle it all.

But your patience, your kindness, is something Heeseung hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“Can I have my dinosaur?” Callum asks his voice weak as he curls into the pillows and blankets with a cough. 

You pass him the dinosaur plush that was halfway tucked under the bed. Probably lost in the chaos of this morning. Callum grabs it and settles into the blankets.

“Thank you…” he says weakly.

Your breath catches, you know he’s not just talking about the plushie. 

“Sleep well Callum…” you whisper before gently pushing some of his dark hair away from his temple. You gently kiss him goodnight before turning to the door. 

Heeseung can’t look away. You look so perfect right now. And the way you handled everything it’s making his heart swell. 

The two of you file out of the door with unspoken words. Heeseung hits the lights and closes the door to Callum’s room. 

“Will you stay?” Heeseung asks, his eyes pleading like he’s begging you not to go. 

“Heeseung I—“ 

“Please I have wine.  I know it’s nothing compared to everything you’ve done for me, for us..” he trails off, his hands sliding between the two of your bodies to find yours. 

He laces your fingertips in his own, the motion taking the words out of your throat.

You know you should protest, but physically you can’t.

And you have to admit to yourself you want this just as much as him.

“Wine sounds perfect. And I’d kill to get out of this suit.” You reply with a playful breathy laugh. 

Heeseung lets you change into some of his clothes, a large oversized t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts. 

You step into the kitchen finding him dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt.

You bite your lip as you turn the corner. Your gaze lingers on his messy hair and casual attire. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy, single dad budget— you know how it goes,” Heeseung mutters as he opens the half-full bottle of red wine and pours it into two glass cups.

“I’m sure it tastes great.” You say as he motions for you to join him in the living room.

You sit next to him on the plush couch, fingers brushing against his as you take the wineglass from his hand. 

You bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the liquid. Heeseung does the same. The air is thick, like there’s still so much left to say. 

“You’re incredible you know that? You got him to take his medicine without a fight. Sure you’re not casting spells on me?” Heeseung teases. 

You laugh, really laugh. It feels warm in your chest.

“God…Heeseung..” you say as you try to catch your breath. 

Heeseung chuckles too, his voice low and deep. He leans in, taking another sip of his wine as he turns to look at you. 

You can smell the fading scent of his cologne. You didn’t even realize how quickly the woody musk has become one of your favorite scents.

You lean in closer, letting your free hand rest on top of his.

“I always thought I would have this by now…a house, a family.” You say weakly. Your voice was shaky as you opened up to him in the quiet darkness of his living room. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything. He just watches, just listens. 

“You know it was always homework in college then it was internships. Then it was hooking up with the wrong guy, then it was another who never wanted anything serious. It was just fail after fail.” You say with a bitter laugh as you hold back tears. 

“Then I just stopped looking, kept my head up, focused on work. And it paid off with the promotion it really did. But even with the raise I just felt so empty...” You say weakly as you blink back tears. 

There’s a quiet minute, neither of you says anything you just set the wine down and sit in comfortable silence. 

“Callum...wasn’t planned. At all.” Heeseung speaks up, his own voice shaky with emotion.

“I wasn’t in love with his mom. I was in college, was acting reckless, thought I was being careful that one time.” He says his voice dripping with self-depreciation. The tone makes your heart-ache. 

“Then she told me she was pregnant and that she wanted to keep him. So I stepped up. I got another job, took summer classes, and thought I could maybe redeem myself by showing up and doing the right thing.” Heeseung adds. 

“It wasn’t what I signed up for. But the minute Callum was born, the minute I became a father I just instantly had so much love for him. So I was determined to make it work with his mom.” Heeseung confesses. 

“She was bartending and taking classes, I was just starting with the company, and one night—she left for a shift late at night and didn’t come back. Found out she was killed in a car accident. That guilt, fuck it eats you alive.” Heeseung says, his voice shaking as he tries to hold it all together. 

You lean in, gently pulling him closer, just offering to let him rest or pull away. His arms reach around your waist, pulling you closer. 

“You’re doing enough, trust me.” You whisper into his ear as you pull him closer. 

His breath hitches, and he squeezes your waists tighter. “I didn’t expect to be a single dad at twenty-one god that just sounds—“

“Like a lot..yeah..” you finish. 

“But this with you..feels like the missing piece to a puzzle I didn’t even realize I was struggling to put together,” Heeseung confesses. 

Your heart stops at his confession. Your fingertips shake, this is exactly what you’ve been missing too.

Someone to lean on, a home to come home to. 

“I didn’t expect it to be you,” you whisper, still trembling from the confession. 

“Me either, but I’m tired of pushing this away,” Heeseung confesses. 

You kiss him, gasping into his mouth as you taste the sweet wine lingering on his lips. Your hands slide to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. 

You don’t even realize tears are falling from your face until his hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing the tears away. You kiss him harder, pouring everything into the kiss. 

Heeseung pulls away gasping for air. His lips still mingling against yours, his breath shaky as he tries to hold himself back from diving in for more.

“Will you come to bed with me? I want to take my time with you. No interruptions” He suggests with a weak breathless laugh. 

You’re so breathless all you can do is nod.  

Heeseung kicks the room to his door open with his foot. He lies you down on the bed in the dark room. His breath was heavy and labored already. 

“Fuck..” he curses as she kisses you again, this time it’s hungry, needy. He lets his lips drag down your throat. And you can’t help but arch into his touch. 

Your hips arch off the bed and Heeseung lets out a sharp exhale. He reluctantly pulls away from your skin, his fingertips hooking inside the waistband of your shorts.

In one swift motion, he pulls them down tossing them to the floor. 

You gasp as the cold air hits your bare pussy, already starting to get wet from just his kissing. He doesn’t even bother to pull off the rest of your clothes.

He locks eyes with you as he spreads your legs, leaning in to drag his lips across the inside of your thighs.

“You’re so wet already? Goddamn, just from some kissing?” Heeseung asks rhetorically.

He spreads your legs and dives in. 

He lets out a deep groan of approval as his mouth finds your heat, his large hands keep your legs spread apart as he licks another slow stripe from your dripping entrance to your clit. 

“Heeseung God—“ you moan weakly as he holds you open more. He pushes up the fabric of your shirt so his hands can feel the warm skin on your hips and waist. 

“So fucking sweet…” Heeseung mumbles as he pulls away to catch his breath, only to gently kiss your inner thighs before his tongue slides across your folds again.

Your breath gets caught in your chest, the feeling of pleasure already starting to build in your core. Your hands tangle in his dark hair pulling him in closer. 

Heeseung drags his tongue through your folds like he is trying to memorize every inch. You gasp, feeling yourself dripping as his tongue flicks your sensitive clit.

Heeseung catches on, you like that. He drags his tongue back towards your clit and gives it more attention. He lightly sucks on it as your back arches off the mattress.

“You’re so good with him. Holding his hand, tucking him in—Do you have any idea what that does to a man?” Heeseung murmurs as he pulls away from you to breathe. 

You whimper as he kisses the inside of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly clenching around nothing as his mouth makes its way back to your place of need.

“That's it, soak me, let me give you a proper thank you.”  Heeseung mumbles into your heat. His tongue moves hot and fast like he’s been waiting to do this.

You feel yourself letting go. Your body relaxes under his touch, deep moans escaping from your throat as he eats you out with precision.

“Fuck keep going…” You moan as you prop yourself up on your arms to get a look at him between your legs.

He's deep in it. His eyes halfway shut as his hands grip tighter onto the back of your thighs. He’s completely lost in pleasuring you.

Your thighs tremble as he picks up speed, lapping at your aching clit between long, thick stripes up your folds.

He doubles down his efforts, squeezing your thighs tight, keeping them open as he sucks more ridged moans from you.

You curse, letting his name fall shamelessly from your lips as he pushes you to the edge. That familiar warm knot starts to pool in your stomach. Thighs trembling by his ears.

His tongue slides away from your clit, dipping into your wet hole to taste more of what you have to offer. His fingertips dig into your skin as he fucks his tongue into you with a low groan of satisfaction.

You’re wet, dripping, shamelessly letting it coat Heeseung’s lips and drip down his chin as he fucks his tongue into it with a steady pace.

“Oh, fuck I'm gonna come, Heesung—” You gasp breathlessly as your grip tightens in his hair. Your moans only grew deeper and thighs shook on either side of his head.

“Come for me, baby…Fuck I need it—” Heeseung gasps into your wet pussy, the sounds of his lips sucking at you only pushes you further.

He finds your clit again, tongue pressing harder as he traces patterns across it. Following your moans as he pushes you over the edge.

You let go. The orgasm is better and stronger than anything you could achieve with your vibrator. You shamelessly coat his lips and the sheets beneath with your hot arousal.

Heeseung gasps into you as he laps up what he can, you coat his face, wave after wave. Your clit buzzing with pleasure as he anchors his tongue to it.

He slows his movements to small, lazy licks as you come down from your high. Your grip loosens as your body falls limp onto the mattress. 

The heat flushes your cheeks as you bask in the afterglow, your body still twitching from the intensity of your orgasm. Completely overstimulated.

“Damn I can’t remember the last time I came like that..” you reply breathlessly. Your chest vigorously rises and falls as you struggle to chase your breath. 

Heeseung licks you one last time, savoring your sweet wetness before he pulls himself away. Wiping your juices off his lips and chin before he hovers over you. His large hands caging you in on either side of your head. 

“You should go ahead and throw away that vibrator. Now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.” Heeseung says with a playful smirk.

You cup his face as he leans in, kissing you slowly, his tongue languid against yours as he lets you taste your sweet essence on his lips. 

“Fuck need to be inside you. Holy shit—“ Heeseung says breath catching in his chest as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping into the waistband of his sweats before pulling them down.

He tosses them to the side letting his aching cock spring free. It’s thick, hard, and already leaking.

He doesn’t waste any more time. Heeseung guides you onto your back, his eyes locked on you as he spreads apart your legs just how he likes it, notching his sensitive tip into your wet entrance. 

He glances at you one last time for consent. You nod. 

He lets out a low groan as he pushes in. Your heat is tight, enveloping him and squeezing him perfectly. He takes his time sliding into you. Once he’s buried to the hilt he pauses.

“You were made for me—“ 

Heeseung starts to move, pulling out until just his swollen tip is notched inside only to grip your hips tighter as he slams back in. The wet sound of your body echoing off the walls.

“Mmm..you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this with you…” he confesses, his pace picking up slightly. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him for support. 

You only get wetter, his thick cock spreading you open deliciously with each thrust. 

You’re breathless as his thick cock slides against your walls, hitting spots inside you didn’t even know existed. 

“Fuck the way you’re squeezing me? Goddamn, you're making me want to make another baby…”

Heeseung mumbles as he grips the back of your knees, pushing your legs back towards the bed as he sinks even deeper into you. 

“Just imagine it, we could give Callum a sister, fuck imagine her with your hair and your eyes—“

You feel it again, that pit of despair in your stomach, that feeling of emptiness, that feeling of being broken.

“Heeseung…” you cut him off, your frustrated tone snapping him out of the mood. 

“Everything okay? Am I hurting you? He asks frantically, brows furrowing with confusion as he slows his thrusts. His breath is heavy as his hand moves from your leg to your face.

“Heeseung I can’t.” You say, your throat feeling like it’s being wrapped in barbed wire as you hold back tears.

“You can’t? Can’t what?” Heeseung asks as he stops his thrusts, his voice full of concern as his hands cup your face. Thumbs brushing across the softness of your cheeks.

“I can’t get pregnant, the chances are low.” You choke out, the words feeling like they’re being ripped from your heart.

You can’t help but start to sob after all these years dealing with this battle alone. 

Heeseung just holds you, his warm hands pulling you close. He doesn’t say anything right away, he just lets you cry. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t know…” he whispers intimately like anything louder would break you even more. 

“It's okay, I’ve never told anyone this before.” You choke out as the aching sob comes to a stop. 

He’s still holding you, still inside you, still wanting you. 

He didn’t even flinch, he just held you. 

“I always told myself I didn’t want it, want this. The kids the mess, the family. Thought I could fill that emptiness by being the career girl.—" You say chest heaving as you whimper another sob.

“I can’t give you the life you want.” You whisper painfully. 

“I already have it.” Heeseung whispers against you as he holds you closer. 

“You, Callum, all of it. We can make it work. We could be a family again…” his voice trails off weakly. 

His words take the air out of your lungs, you can’t even speak, so you kiss him. 

Slow, deep, messy. Just like how everything so far has felt with him. 

And you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

His hands slide down your body again, hands gently holding your hips. He slowly starts to rock his half-hard cock back into you. His lips dragging away from yours. 

“Tell me what you need, do you want to keep going?” Heeseung asks, his breath heavy, his cock already starting to grow hard. Your warmth makes him choke back a moan. 

“Don’t stop..” you gasp, your eyes still watering from before. Heeseung leans down, his soft lips kissing your tears away as he slowly buries himself inside you. 

Heeseung takes his time, dragging his cock through your clenching walls only to push back in. His swollen tip kissing your cervix deep.

He just holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world. 

He fucks you like your fragile, not in an attempt to break you, it’s like he’s treasuring you instead.

The sounds of skin on skin fills the room, the squelch between your bodies is erotic. 

You can’t help but reach out to him. His hands hold you close, making you finally feel complete. 

He leans down to kiss you again, his lips reluctantly pull away for him to whisper. 

“I don’t need any more kids, not some perfect plan, you’re everything. And I love you, every part of you.” Heeseung confesses against your lips. 

Your world feels like it stops in that moment. After everything you've confessed, he still wants you.

Ans after everything he's confessed to you, you feel the same way.

“I love you too.” You choke out, trying to hold back another sob. Heeseung lets a breathy laugh slip past his lips. Like he can’t exactly believe this is happening, that this is real. 

You clench around him with a gasp, grounding him in reality. 

This is real. 

His hand slips between your slick bodies, fingertips finding you clit, still coated wet. 

“Fuck…Heeseung…” you moan into his neck. Your nails dug into the porcelain skin of his biceps. Your hips rock into his, chasing your release again. 

“Need you to come again, on my cock this time.” Heeseung gasps, his own hips jerking as he feels himself slipping towards the edge. His hand still rubbing small, torturous circles on your clit.

“Heeseung I’m—fuck so close—“ you whisper weakly. Your heart beats rapidly as you feel the warmth in your stomach again. Legs shaking as he pushes you over the edge. 

You come again, hands gripping him tight as he buries himself deep inside you. You clench around him, moaning his name as your toes curl with pleasure. Dripping wetness like a wave, the sheets below getting soaked. 

“Fuck, that’s it, I’m gonna come—“ he whimpers as he thrusts one last time hard and deep. He exhales as thick ropes of cum shoot into you. Painting you as his. 

He gasps your name as his cock throbs and he pushes deeper, letting your pussy squeeze out every drop of his cum. 

You don’t move, the two of you just lie there, heavy breathing echoing off the walls as cum drips down your inner thighs. 

Heeseung kisses you, his thumbs tracing small patterns right above the skin of your hips. He kisses you slow and deep like he’s telling you everything he couldn’t find words to say out loud. 

He breaks away, his sweaty forehead resting on yours. His eyes were half-lidded with desire, his softening cock still inside your warmth. 

“I love you.” He whispers, truthfully. There’s nothing else behind it. 

“I love you too.” You gasp back, tears threatening to spill again. 

With those words, it feels like the weight of the past falls away.

The path ahead isn’t smooth, but it’s a path worth walking. 

This time it’s not about the picture-perfect plan or the picture-perfect image. 

It’s imperfect and for once that’s enough. 

A beautiful second chance. 

For you and him.

*8 months later*

The timer for the oven beeps over the sound of laughter. You’re back in his home dressed in warm pajamas, bare feet on the kitchen floor.

You watch Callum as he plays in the living room with his toys. An old Christmas movie playing on the TV as the warmth of the house envelops you. 

You open the oven, and the scent of freshly baked apple pie fills the air. The heat from the oven is nothing in comparison to how full your heart feels. You set the pie on the cooling rack, turning to place the oven mitts back in the drawer. 

“Oh my God that smells amazing,” Heeseung says as he rounds the corner with a huge smile on his face.

“Apple pie, your favorite— You can thank the freezer aisle at Walmart.” You say with a soft chuckle.

Heeseung steps closer to you, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com. 

He looks you in the eyes, full of love. His breath hitches as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small folded piece of copy paper. 

“What’s this?” You ask softly. Take the paper in your hands and slowly unfold it piece by piece.

“It’s from Cal. I was just waiting for the right moment…” Heeseung whispers, his voice slightly trembling as he watches you.

Your heart stops. 

It’s a drawing with highlighters, a house scribbled into the background, a tall man with dark hair, a little boy with the same…

And a woman who looks a lot like you. 

Before you can even process it all Heeseung is in front of you, dropping to one knee. 

You can’t even breathe, he just smiles at you as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny red box.

“So I don’t have a speech planned, or roses or a photographer. But you, here, with Callum and I, it’s a second chance I never imagined I’d have. And I love you, and I want nothing more than to wake up beside you every day as my wife…”

“Will you marry me?”

His voice cracks, his hands tremble. 

You glance at the ring, and then back at him, proposing in the middle of the kitchen in his pajamas.

And it would be your greatest honor to become this man’s wife. 

“Yes. God yes.” You say breathlessly. Heeseung smiles with relief, he wastes no time taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto your finger.

It’s delicate and simple. No huge diamonds or lavish gold. But it’s more than enough.

He kisses you. His arms wrap around you like he never wants to let you go. You break away from his lips as you hear Callum barrel into the kitchen. 

“Did she say yes?!!” He asks as he hugs the both of you. 

You wipe the tears from your cheeks with a soft breathless laugh. 

“She did Cal-“ Heeseung says with a smile as he gives you another gentle peck on the lips. 

“Ewww are you guys going to kiss more now? That’s gross.” Callum groans. 

“You’ll understand one day Cal...” Heeseung mutters. 

You pull away taking the drawing in your hand and placing it front and center on the fridge with a homemade magnet. 

And you take one look around at everything. And the puzzle finally feels complete. 

This wasn’t just a new beginning.

This isn’t just a second chance, 

Maybe it was the right one all along.

© brokenengene

note: Thank you for reading this far! I hope it lived up to expectations! If it did I would love to hear about it! I was so emotional writing this chapter, definitely held back tears during editing. (Mostly because I'm painfully single right now 🥹) I'm so incredibly grateful for every comment, reblog, and like. It really means the world to me and inspires me to write for hours on end.

Again, I'm beyond grateful for the support. I wish you all the best. 💕

Written with love,

xoxo kate <3

masterlist!

taglist: @iweirdthingblog @stormlit-pages @gyuw1fe @m1kkso @luvksnn @miauumin @la-choiblog @mheretoreadff @rpwpthv @yohanabanana @sourkiki @ki2rins @cutehoons02 @remehokusoo @snowprincehoon @7789995323567322 @manuosorioh @ilovehoonie @xoenhalover @rosepetals09 @beomguys11 @godisdidi @ashirp @coconutx-o @hanamiwa1414 @niyzu @kimuranirisi @ninistranaut @dulcetnostalgia

[ikeuwoniee]

dear reader... again | 02z

One island. One daughter. Three possible dads. You just wanted peace and quiet—what you got was chaos, old flames, and a little girl asking for three dads.

Genre: destination au, strangers-to-lovers, smut Pairing: ENHYPEN Jake/Sunghoon/Jay x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) MDNI, don't come at me but she ends up with just one guy and the smut is only with one of them Notes: 22k words. Guys, bear with me. I'm a long fic writer. Sometimes, I just can't help it. This is one of those times. This is a sequel to Dear Reader, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Loosely based on the 2008 movie, Mamma Mia! Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor claim they would ever in real life behave the way they were portrayed in this fic. If you see the same exact fic in a different blog, for NCT, that is me. I did not plagiarize myself; otherwise, lmk.

i: Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

The drawing room was a war zone. Empty cups on every surface, leftovers here and there, balloons all over the floor. Your daughter had retreated to her bedroom to play with her new toys, leaving you with a garbage bag in one hand and three ghosts of your past sitting awkwardly on the couch.

You didn’t look at them as you threw another stack of paper plates into the bag. It was a good thing that your friends and two of Emma’s godmothers were keeping the room noisy as they helped you clean up. But at some point, Lea and Amy found a spot far across the room where they could interrogate you.

“Which one is it?” Lea asked immediately, like she hadn’t already asked the same thing three different ways in the past three hours.

Amy nudged her. “Were you listening? She didn’t check which one it was, remember?”

“What are they doing here anyway? Did you invite them?”

You huffed, glancing over your shoulder just long enough to catch the three of them talking. “No idea. They just showed up out of nowhere.”

“On Emma’s birthday? That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not a coincidence,” Lea muttered, shaking her head conspiratorially.

Unfortunately, she was right. It wasn’t a coincidence. When they showed up on your doorstep earlier, all three of them, the first question you’d asked had been: What are you doing here? And apparently, they had an answer.

Each of them had brought a letter from you. Letters you didn’t remember sending—because technically, you didn’t.

After a discreet interrogation with the staff, you found out how it happened. Last week, while clearing out the attic, you’d accidentally left a box on the counter marked “outgoing.” Inside were things you meant to throw away—old receipts, scribbled notes, and three unsent letters you’d written four years ago.

You remembered them now. You’d written those letters when Emma was in the hospital, and needed a blood transfusion, but her blood type was rare. You were scared. Desperate. You almost mailed them. But she got better before you had to.

Now here they were, delivered years late and right on time to ruin your peaceful little life. Still, that didn’t explain how they got here on the same day, at the exact same time. But when you asked, Jake had said:

“Oh, we actually missed the ferry, and Mr. Jay here was nice enough to offer his yacht.”

You’d scoffed. “Still parading the seas with that yacht?”

“Yeah, no,” Jay had replied smugly. “This one’s new. Got it just last year.”

Jake was the first to speak, stepping forward with a smile. “So... we were wondering,” he said, glancing briefly at Jay and Sunghoon, “if there might be any rooms available here? Just for a few days while we’re on the island.”

You raised an eyebrow but kept your voice steady. “You’re not leaving yet?”

Jay chuckled. “Why am I getting the feeling you don’t want us here?”

“Honestly?” you sighed. “Doesn’t matter much to me. But if you’re looking for a room, try somewhere else. I’m fully booked.”

Jake cleared his throat. “We’d pay, of course. No trouble.”

You shook your head firmly. “Sorry. You can pay me double, but the calendar will still be full until the end of the month.”

There was a pause as Jake glanced over at the other two. You saw Jay shrug before saying, “The boat’s got plenty of rooms. You guys can crash there while I’m around.”

Jake nodded quickly, but Sunghoon hesitated, eyes flicking to you. Jay turned back. “Guess that settles it. We’ll be on our way, then,” he said, offering a small wave.

“Yes. Please go,” you said briskly, waving your hand dismissively. Don’t come back, you wanted to add—but didn’t.

“It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” Jay grinned, winking before sliding on his sunglasses and turning away.

You grimaced, rolled your eyes, and went back to your chore. You reached for a trash bag, but someone else grabbed it before you could. It was Sunghoon, and you could still feel the warmth of his presence behind you even after he’d moved away. Jake and Jay had left, but he was still here.

“What are you doing?” you asked, though it was clear he was trying to help.

Of course, he was. You didn’t even have it in you to stop him when he started scraping paper plates into it, like this was just a normal evening in some alternate universe where he was your partner and this was his house, too.

“She’s very lovely,” Sunghoon said after a moment of nothing but silence between the two of you. “Emma, I mean.”

“She is,” you replied flatly despite the nervousness slowly creeping up your chest.

“She’s six?” he asked and you nodded. “Is her dad around?”

You exhaled sharply, dropping the broom. “It’s really none of your business, Hoon. I’d rather we don’t talk like we’re old friends. Or act like we knew each other at all.”

Sunghoon sighed, saying your name softly, but you didn’t want to hear it. You walked out of the hall and found something else to do in the kitchen, hoping he’d be gone at some point without you having to interact with him anymore.

You kept yourself busy, moving from one task to the next—stacking empty cups, folding napkins, wiping down surfaces—anything to avoid looking Sunghoon’s way. Every now and then, you caught him quietly working alongside you, silently scraping plates or gathering trash, never saying much.

You thought he would leave if you ignored him long enough, but the hours ticked by, the party noise died down, and still, Sunghoon stayed. You resisted the urge to ask him directly to go, too wary of what might come if you did.

Finally, as the last of the balloons were deflating and the floor was almost spotless, he gathered the last trash bag and gave you a small nod. Without a word, he slipped out the door. Relief washed over you.

Later that night, you sat in the living room with Amy and Lea, nibbling on some ham and cheese from the kitchen. The house was quiet, the staff had left, and Emma was sleeping quietly upstairs. A TV show was playing in the background, but no one was really watching.

“So,” Amy said, passing you the plate, “All three of them are here. Shy Boy, Lover Boy, and Play Boy. What’s going on?”

Lea shook her head, eyes narrowed. “Even with the letter mix-up and fate or whatnot, I still don’t get why now, after all these years.”

You shrugged, chewing slowly. “I don’t know. The universe probably has it out for me.”

Amy leaned back, thoughtful. “You seemed tense around Lover Boy earlier. What’s his deal?”

You glanced at the ceiling, choosing your words carefully. “He’s…” You threw your hands up in the air, frustrated. “He’s Lover Boy.”

“Oh,” said Amy, nodding in realization. “Of course. Yeah, I get it.”

“What is it?” Lea asked cluelessly. “I don’t get it.”

“Sunghoon is Lover Boy,” Amy explained plainly, though it wasn’t enough for Lea. “He’s complicated because, you know, he’s the guy she fell in love with, but then he left her because he was engaged to some other girl.”

Lea gasped. “Oh my god! Yes! I forgot that we called him Lover Boy because she was crazy about him.”

“I was not,” you said coolly, lifting your glass to your lips to hide your lie.

“Were too,” Amy said in a sing-song, smirking. You huffed and slapped her thigh, earning a surprised yelp and a fit of giggles from both of them.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this with you guys,” you said, standing and brushing crumbs from your lap. “I’m going to bed.”

“Who else would you talk to if not us?” Lea called after you, laughter chasing you up the stairs.

You padded down the hallway, quiet now that the party was over and the girls were left to their wine and gossip. Your bedroom door was ajar, but you kept walking past it and down to the end of the hall where Emma’s room was.

You pushed the door open gently and peeked inside. She was fast asleep, curled into a soft lump beneath her blanket, one arm wrapped tightly around the new stuffed animal she’d gotten today. You stepped in and sat lightly on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair from her face. Her breathing was steady. Peaceful. The sight of her always had a way of quieting something wild inside you.

“Goodnight, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

You stood to leave, carefully pulling the blanket back over her shoulder, but just as you turned to go, a small voice cut through the quiet. “Mommy?”

You turned instantly. Emma had stirred, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with sleep. She reached out a hand, and you crossed the room again without hesitation, crawling gently onto the bed beside her. “I’m here, baby,” you whispered, wrapping an arm around her as she snuggled into your side.

She was quiet for a moment, her little fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. Then, softly, “Who were those men?”

You blinked. “What men?”

“At the party. I didn’t know them. The tall men.”

You hesitated, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “Just tourists, sweetie. They were asking for some rooms.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “Are they mean?”

You frowned. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“They made you sad,” she said simply, her voice already fading as sleep tried to reclaim her. “I saw you do the forehead thing.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat. That was the thing about Emma. Even when she didn’t fully understand something, she felt it. She had always been so in-tune with you, too sensitive for her own good sometimes.

“No, baby,” you whispered, kissing the crown of her head. “They’re not mean. Just a little complicated.”

Emma hummed, snuggling closer. “I don’t like that word.”

“Yeah, me neither.” She didn’t say anything else after that, and within moments, her breathing evened out again. You stayed where you were, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across her ceiling.You weren’t ready to explain who those men really were. You didn’t even have the full truth yourself yet. And quite frankly, you never really thought about introducing Emma to her dad one day. But then again, life has its own way of kicking you in the ass. With all three of them here, you knew you would eventually have to confront the truth and put a face on the dad you’d kept from Emma all these years. You just hoped she’d be ready when that day came. Or that you would.

ii: “Croissant. Closure. Co-Parenting?”

The next day, you spotted them before they saw you—Jake with a juice in hand, Jay chatting up the girl at the counter, and Sunghoon lingering by the window like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Of all the cafés on the island, of course, they came to your favorite one. Amy followed your gaze and made a low, amused sound. “Would you look at that. Shy Boy, Lover Boy, and Play Boy, all in one place.”

“I told them to leave,” you muttered, flipping over the menu board even though you knew you were gonna order the same thing as usual.

Lea, who owned the cafe, leaned over the counter, eyes narrowing at the trio. “Shy Boy’s in flip-flops. I don’t think they’re leaving. Maybe they’re here for my famous croissant?”

“Sure,” Amy snorted. “Croissant. Closure. Co-parenting. Who’s to say?”

“I don’t care. They have to leave,” you huffed.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” Lea chuckled, turning to welcome another customer who’d just walked through the doors.

Jay was the first to spot you, unsurprisingly. He made a show of removing his sunglasses, flashing a smile so wide you wondered how it didn’t split his face open.

“Good morning,” he called, walking over to where you were standing by the counter. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Can’t say the same with you.”

Jay chuckled like the jab didn’t bother him. “Yeah, I missed you, too. Say, how would you like to join me today? I’m sightseeing.”

“Pass. Some of us have real jobs,” you deadpanned, eyes still fixed on the menu.

“You’re gonna bore a hole in that thing,” Jay said after a few seconds of watching you stare at the piece of cardboard.

You exhaled sharply and placed the menu down. Behind him, you caught Jake’s gaze, and he gave a small sheepish wave. Sunghoon didn’t approach—just gave a slight nod from where he sat, eyes cautious.

“What do you want?” you asked Jay, arms crossed.

Jay lifted a brow. “Coffee? A warm smile? To not be treated like a disease?”

“You can have the coffee,” you replied, nodding to the barista. “Smile’s out of stock.”

Jay grinned. “Where’s Emma?”

“School,” you replied briskly. “Not that it’s any of your business where my daughter is.”

“It’s not. I’m just trying to make conversation.” 

You didn’t say anything to that, just gave him a deadpan expression. Jay raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to speak, and seemingly trying to gauge if the look meant anything, but when you didn’t, he took a deep breath and shrugged. 

“Well, this place has a nice vibe. We’ll order something and be on our way. No need to panic.”

“I’m not panicking,” you snapped. Which, unfortunately, sounded exactly like someone who was panicking.

They sat at a table in the corner, quietly eating. Jake tapped on his phone. Jay flirted with the waitress. Sunghoon stared out the window. You pretended not to watch them, but your ears picked up every laugh and cough and scrape of a chair.

Amy leaned over again. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, poking at your food aggressively.

Lea leaned in as she pushed a small cup of espresso your way. “Be honest. Are you more mad that they came back, or that some part of you isn’t entirely mad?” You placed your fork down and didn’t answer.

“Oh my god. I can’t decide if I’m enjoying your despair or if I’m terrified of it,” said Amy, tutting as she shook her head at you,

“They’re just tourists,” you said through gritted teeth. “Let’s treat them as such.”

Just tourists, you told yourself. Just tourists my ass.

The sun was too bright for a Tuesday. You squinted up at it as you stepped out of a grocery store, two bags dangling from your arms, the baguette sticking out comically like something out of a cartoon. You walked down the winding road, exchanging smiles and pleasantries with a few people you knew.

Just as you were turning a corner, you spotted Jake in front of an old book shop, staring up at the sign with sunglasses far too big for his face. The owner, an old man with a permanent slouch, came out to greet him and usher him inside.

He hadn’t seen you yet. You considered ducking back inside and hiding in the alley between a patisserie and the bookshop, but fate was quicker. Jake turned at the perfect moment, smiling as soon as he recognized you.

“Hey,” he called, jogging over before you could pretend to be invisible. “I could help with that,” he offered.

You adjusted the bags in your hands. “No. I’ve got it.”

“Yes, but I insist, please.” He reached for one anyway, and you didn’t stop him, mostly because you were too tired to argue.

You walked side by side in silence for a few seconds. The streets were still sleepy at this hour—too early for tourists, too late for locals.  

Jake cleared his throat, shifting the bag in his hands. “So, uh, this place is lovely. The pastry is amazing. I had something yesterday—some kind of tart with fig and honey? It was amazing. I mean, not that I know anything about pastries. Or figs. I’m more of a donut guy, really. But you know—when in Rome. Or, uh, Corsica.”

You glanced at him sideways. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring ahead. He went on. “Also, everyone keeps smiling here. Like, aggressively friendly. One would think you’re not in France at all. Last time I was in the country, I went to Paris, and if someone smiled at you like that, they either want to sell you something or they’re about to scam you.”

That made you laugh, unexpectedly. Jake heard it and looked over, clearly startled, then smiled sheepishly. You cleared your throat after a few seconds, still a little red in the face. “You haven’t changed at all, Jake.”

Jake shrugged like he disagreed. “I did change a little. But you certainly haven’t.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at you, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’re just as beautiful as the first time I met you.”

You smirked. “On second thought, maybe you have changed.” You pointed to his choice of clothing. “You look more put-together. You must be doing better now.”

Jake smiled, that soft, earnest one that you used to find so endearing. “I am, thank goodness. My job is less stressful now. I’m doing much, much better. You, though? How have you been?”

“I’m fine. I’m sure you can tell that much.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he replied, nodding. “And you’ve got a daughter. Emma, right? She seemed really bright. She reminds me of you.”

You frowned. “You don’t know her.”

“I know enough,” he said gently, then added quickly, “I mean—not in a weird way. Just, you know. I saw her for a few hours, and she seemed... like she knows exactly what she wants. Just like you always did.”

You didn’t respond to that. The road curved ahead, and you were quiet again, but it was less awkward this time, more familiar. Like an old coat, neither of you knew how to take off. You stopped walking as your house came into view. Jake did too. You turned to face him. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

Jake looked confused. “Helping you with your bags?”

“No, I mean here here. On this island,” you clarified, sighing. “Why did you come here?”

Jake blinked. “What do you mean?”

You shot him a look. “I know you came because you thought I asked you to, but we cleared that up, didn’t we? So why are you still here?”

“Vacation,” he offered quickly. “I’m here on vacation. Sometimes I like to do solo trips. You know? Pick a spot on the map and go there. I’m a spontaneous person.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jake chuckled. “No, I’m not.”

You didn’t say anything to that, just shook your head and looked over your shoulder at your house by the cliffs.  “I should get these home,” you said finally, nodding toward the bags.

Jake blinked like he’d forgotten he was still holding one. “Right! Of course. Sorry. I’ll, uh—I’ll leave you to it.”

You turned toward the path that led back to your house, but paused after Jake called out your name. “It’s really good to see you again,” he said. And you knew he meant it.

You nodded. “Thanks.” Then turned and kept walking.

iii: “Okay, Ice Princess.”

You thought you’d feel calmer the second you stepped back inside your house. But the moment you opened the door, laughter—loud and familiar—echoed through the hall and made the veins in your temples throb. Jay was sprawled across your sofa, drink in hand, laughing at something Amy had said.

“There she is!” Amy called brightly the moment she saw you.

“My sweetheart,” Jay added, getting to his feet with arms outstretched like he expected a warm welcome.

You dodged the hug before he could reach you. “Ames, did you check the mail? Something came for you.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Already? Wait—what day is it?” She didn’t wait for an answer, scrambling off the couch and disappearing into the study, which you’d turned into your office.

Jay followed you into the kitchen after Amy left, looking around the place. “Nice place you’ve got. Very you. Minimalist but cozy.”

“Glad you approve,” you deadpanned.

He grinned, tipping back the last of his drink before setting the glass on the countertop. “So... how have you been? You know, since our amazing little summer.”

“I’ve been fine.”

“Just fine?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “‘Fine’ fine, or ‘not fine’ fine?”

“‘None of your business’ fine.”

Jay laughed, clearly entertained. “Okay, Ice Princess. What did I do? Why am I getting the cold treatment like we didn’t part in great terms on the best of circumstances all those years ago?”

The circumstances he was talking about were definitely not the best for you, but you didn’t wanna get into that with him. “I’m just trying to maintain a quiet life, Jay. Having you here gives me anything but that.”

Jay shrugged, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, fine.”

He was quiet for a minute, watching you pile up the groceries in their respective containers and cabinets. “Village’s changed a lot, hasn’t it?” he said after a while, glancing around. “I mean, there’s a wine bar now. A wine bar. When did this place get so bougie?”

“Not too long ago. More and more tourists are finding this place.”

“Is that why you turned this into a BNB?”

You hummed. “The plan was a hotel, but that takes so much more work, so I’m putting that on hold for now.”

Jay nodded slowly, then looked at you again, this time more carefully. “Your daughter Emma is adorable. I didn’t know you got married.”

You paused, hand hovering in the air as you were closing an overhead cabinet. “I didn’t.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh. Huh. I just assumed. You know... kid, house, the whole ‘maintaining a quiet life’ spiel. Is the father out of the picture?”

You huffed, unwilling to have this conversation with him for the most obvious reason. “It’s really none of your business, but if you must ask, no, he is not in the picture. I have a daughter and I’m not married. That’s it.”

He gave a slow, thoughtful nod, like he was tucking that information away for later. “Yeah, I doubt you would have enjoyed being married. You always did like being independent.”

You said nothing, just continued your chore and pretended he wasn’t there. But it was easier said than done.

“I missed talking to you,” he said with a lilt. “Even when you’re being mean.”

“You are bothering me while I’m working. I’m not being mean.”

“Oh, I know,” he chimed, tilting his head. “This is you being civilized. It’s kinda hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave?”

“I’m the master of my own fate, sweetheart. I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” he said smugly. “Besides, this place is magnificent. Can’t blame a man for staying and reliving the nostalgia.”

You didn’t bother replying. Just turned away and kept unpacking, hoping he’d take the hint. Jay smirked, clearly enjoying pushing your buttons, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, sighed, and shook his head. “Well, I should probably let you get back to your kingdom of quiet,” he said, stretching.

You didn’t bother to say goodbye, just kept sorting the groceries. Jay grinned like he knew he’d won some invisible game and turned toward the door. “See you around.”

You heard the front door close behind him, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. The sound of footsteps signaled Amy’s return. “Jay’s gone,” she said, placing a letter on the counter. “I guess I’m gone too. But more gone than he is.”

Your brows furrowed. “Whatever does that mean?”

Amy lifted the paper. “They’re summoning me back. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to say goodbye to my little break and go back to working my ass off for a new Chanel purse.”

You chuckled. “You’re your own boss, Amy.”

“Pep talk? Nice. I can always trust you to lift me up when I’m down.”

“No, I mean literally,” you clarified, laughing. “You literally own your company.”

Amy sighed and sank into a chair. “I know, right? Who knew being a boss could be so demanding, too?”

You smiled, placing the last jar of jam in the cabinet. “You always did say you wanted to build an empire.”

“I was picturing more champagne and yachts. Less spreadsheets and back-to-back Zoom calls.” She pouted. “But alas, I must answer the call of capitalism.”

You leaned against the counter, arms folded. “When are you leaving?”

“Couple more days. Figured I’d squeeze in a few more sunsets before I go back to breathing recycled air in my office.”

“That gives us time for at least one more girls’ night.”

Amy grinned. “You, me, Lea, a bottle of wine, and us talking about Emma’s drop dead gorgeous dads?”

“Possible dads.”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Right, possible dads. But seriously… you okay with me leaving?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll survive.”

Amy narrowed her eyes. “You always say that when you’re suppressing deep emotional turmoil.”

“Then you must be thrilled I’m so consistent.”

Amy smirked, then stood to stretch. “I wish I could move here too.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, like you’ll survive the quiet.”

She grimaced, standing up at once and heading for the stairs. You watched her climb upstairs with her heels click-clacking on the marble floor, smiling as she disappeared from view.

iv: The Bolter

You were halfway up the ladder, squinting against the late afternoon sun as you twisted the new bulb into the patio fixture. The scent of oranges permeated the warm air, sweet and delightful, and cicadas buzzed in the distance.

“Hey—careful,” came a voice behind you, gentle but urgent.

You turned slightly and found Sunghoon standing near the base of the ladder, brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t be up there,” he said. “What if you fall?”

You huffed a small laugh, focusing back on the bulb. “Then I’ll fall. And hopefully someone will find me before the birds do.”

He stepped closer, placing one hand on the side of the ladder without climbing. “Seriously. Get down. Let me do it.”

“It’s fine, I’m almost—” You gave the bulb a final twist and straightened. “Done.”

He exhaled through his nose like he didn’t quite believe you, but wasn’t going to argue. His hand stayed lightly on the ladder until you made it to the ground. You felt it—the worry in his eyes—before you even looked at him.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He nodded, glancing up at the light fixture. “You always do these things by yourself?”

You shrugged. “Mostly. The handyman comes by when something major breaks.”

“Don’t you have someone who could help with this kind of thing?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “A partner, or… someone?”

You scoffed. “Why? Because women shouldn’t be doing things like these?”

“That’s not what I said,” he said quickly. “I just meant you should be more careful and leave these tasks to other people.”

“Did you come here to boss me around?” you smirked, walking toward the shed with your toolbox. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

“I’m not bossing you around. I never did that,” he replied, following behind you. “You just don’t like being told what to do.”

“You know me so well,” you scoffed, digging through the shed for shears. “Good for you.”

You turned to him and handed him the shears with a crooked smile. “Here. Since you think I shouldn't be doing everything myself, you can help with the oranges.”

He took the shears without protest, the metal glinting faintly in the late afternoon light. You started toward the nearest tree, brushing your fingers against the low-hanging branches as you walked. The fruit was ripe, some already beginning to speckle with sunspots.

Sunghoon trailed behind, quiet except for the occasional snip of the shears. You didn’t offer instructions—he knew what to do. You remembered that much.

For a while, the only sounds were the rustle of leaves, the snap of stems, and the distant hum of insects. You filled a basket between you in silence, neither of you in a hurry. 

“These trees are doing well,” he said eventually, pausing beside you to drop a few oranges into the bin. “I didn’t think they’d survive the dry season.”

You crouched down to pick one that had fallen between two roots. “They almost didn’t. I had to replant a few.” You dusted off the dirt and added it to the pile. “They’re tougher than they look.”

He glanced at you, and you knew it wasn’t about the oranges. But you didn’t acknowledge it. Sunghoon shifted his weight, rubbing his palm over his neck like he always did when he was thinking too hard. “It’s peaceful here.”

“It was,” you said dryly, then added, “Still is. Mostly.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it faded quickly. He nodded and turned back to the tree, reaching for another cluster of oranges. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. But I figured, when I did… you’d look like this.”

You arched a brow. “Like what?”

He hesitated. “Like… settled. Happy.”

You didn’t respond right away, just adjusted the strap of the basket on your shoulder. “Yeah, life doesn’t just stop for anyone. It keeps going. But you know that already.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. Instead, he stepped forward, brushing past you to reach a particularly high branch. His arm stretched over your head, close enough for you to feel the warmth of him, but you didn’t move. He clipped the stem and handed the orange to you quietly.

You took it without meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he murmured. You placed the orange in the basket, then stood there for a few moments, letting the quiet stretch between you. You didn’t want to open your mouth and speak the words you were dying to say. But you needed to know.

You exhaled softly. “Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

He looked at you, lips pressed thinly together like he didn’t want to speak. You met his gaze. “Why are you here, Hoon? Why now?”

“No reason,” he said, though his voice was softer now. “I just wanted to see the island again. You know what it meant to me.”

You sighed. “I know, that’s why I’m asking you why. You came all the way out here, just to reminisce?”

He didn’t answer right away. You could see it—the hesitation behind his silence. Maybe he was debating what to say, or maybe he didn’t even know the answer himself.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Still figuring that out,” he said quietly.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Then figure it out somewhere else. I want nothing to do with you.”

You placed the basket of oranges down and turned to walk away. But then you paused, sighing to yourself. “Sunghoon,” you said, glancing back. He straightened, eyes hopeful.

“Don’t do that thing where you pretend we’re fine.”

His face fell, just slightly. “Okay,” he said softly. “Then I’ll do the thing where I hope we will be.”

You didn’t say anything else. Just walked away, the sun edging down the horizon, and the memories of your past heartbreak pressing hard against your chest.

v: “The Child”

In a small, dimly lit pub in the heart of the village, Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon had found a corner table near the back, enjoying the local cuisine and some drinks. It was by Jay’s recommendation, seconded by Sunghoon, who agreed that this place had the best food.

“So you’re all here by coincidence?” the pub owner asked, appearing at their table with a towel slung over her shoulder. She was in her fifties, with sharp eyes and a playful lilt to her voice.

Sunghoon smiled faintly. “Guess so.”

“I remember you,” she said, pointing at him. “You were here six years ago, weren’t you? Stayed a few weeks. Always ordered the sardines and left a good tip.”

Sunghoon smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like me.”

She turned to Jay. “I saw you here before, too, with the fancy yacht.” To Jake, she said, “You all know each other?”

Jake offered a polite smile. “We didn’t know each other until this week. We all thought she—uh, someone—had asked us to come.”

“Misunderstanding,” Sunghoon added flatly.

The woman let out a long, amused hmm. “Three strangers, all drawn back to the same place, for the same woman? That’s either bad luck or fate.”

Jay chuckled. “Feels a bit like both.”

The pub owner grinned. “Well, I’ve known her since she moved here. Lovely girl. Strong as hell. We all helped her when she had little Emma—Lord, that was a night.” She laughed to herself, then added fondly, “She did good, you know. Raising her child like that.”

That was when she tilted her head. “So…” she said slowly, eyes darting between the three of them, “which one of you is the dad?”

Silence fell all of a suddden. Sunghoon blinked. Jake choked on his beer. Jay just stared at her, lips parting but nothing coming out.

She laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, don’t all look so spooked. Just thought it was funny—all of you turning up like that. I figured one of you must’ve come back for your kid.”

Jake leaned forward. “Sorry—our kid? Are you saying one of us could be Emma’s dad?”

She blinked, then grinned. “So you don’t know?” She looked genuinely entertained now. “You did all sleep with her, yeah?”

The three of them exchanged stunned glances, which only made her laugh harder. “That’s the part I’m having trouble wrapping my head around. Young people really are something,” she said, already turning away. “Just don’t cause trouble for our girl while you’re here, alright?”

The three of them stepped out into the cooling evening air, the sea breeze curling through the narrow streets. They walked in silence at first, shoes scuffing against cobblestones, the buzz of the pub still echoing faintly behind them.

“She’s got your laugh, Jay,” Jake said suddenly. Jay and Sunghoon both turned to look at him.

“I mean—” Jake shrugged, a little sheepish now. “Emma. The kid.”

Jay lifted a brow. “You’ve barely spoken to her.”

“I know,” Jake said, hands jammed into his pockets. “But I heard her laugh.”

“You don’t think she’s yours?” Sunghoon asked Jake.

Jake shrugged. “I feel like she’s mine, but I also think she’s not. I mean, me and her mom only met briefly and you two seemed to have a longer history with her.”

Jay didn’t answer. He was looking up now, watching the clouds across a lilac sky. “A daughter. My own daughter. How odd.”

Jake gave him a sidelong glance. “You think she might be yours?”

Jay smirked faintly. “The timeline fits. And we did have a wild time together.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “None of that would have happened if I never left the island.”

Jay stopped walking and watched Sunghoon carefully. “So it was you?”

Sunghoon stopped too, glancing over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Jay narrowed his eyes, wagging his index finger. “The guy who left her in that state of despair six years ago.”

Sunghoon didn’t speak, but the way his jaw clenched and looked away made Jay snigger. “Knew it. Guess I owe you for that. If you hadn’t messed up, I wouldn’t have had my chance.”

They exchanged glances, Jay with a smug smirk on his lips and Sunghoon with darkened eyes, neither of them saying anything. Just a step behind, Jake was watching cautiously. 

“Are you gonna punch each other in the face? Please don’t punch each other in the face,” he rambled. “I’m a pacifist, but physically pacifying two grown men fighting is not my best skill.”

Sunghoon glanced at him and smiled. “No. No one’s punching anyone.”

Jay nodded in agreement, and Jake visibly relaxed. Ahead, near the edge of the orange orchard, he spotted a small figure darting between the trees—Emma, the child they had all heard so much about.

“Emma!” he exclaimed, pointing at the orchard.

They all followed his finger, watching as Emma ran barefoot over the grass with two other kids, her hair bouncing, eyes bright with mischief. They all noticed how she tilted her head just like you did when you were thinking hard, and caught themselves smiling at the resemblance.

Sunghoon exhaled slowly. “We need to talk to her mom.”

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “We should, but she clearly doesn’t want us here.”

Jay nodded slowly, his gaze still on the orchard. “Makes sense now, doesn’t it? Why she was so cold. She’s been raising a kid this whole time and we show up out of nowhere?”

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with everything that needed not be spoken. 

“Hi there,” came a voice behind them. They all turned. Amy stood there, smiling mischievously.

“Amy!” Jay exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “Didn’t see you there.”

Amy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Three grown men, spying on a little girl. I wonder what’s going on here?” she chimed, tilting her head playfully.

vi: “My Child?!”

It didn’t take much to convince Amy. Just one sincere talk beneath the stars, and Amy’s usual knack for stepping into matters she absolutely shouldn’t. 

Okay, there was also a bribe of some sort from Jay too.

By morning, she and the three men had come to some sort of unspoken agreement, though you’d never hear the details from her. She wouldn’t tell you yet, but Amy agreed to gave the men time to get to know Emma. Little windows of time, a few stolen moments. A chance to see Emma from a distance without disrupting her world. 

The girl remained blissfully unaware, chattering to her friends, running through trees, and sitting cross-legged on classroom floors while three very confused, very quiet men watched her and quietly lost their minds.

Jay had his time with her first. He was sitting outside the café in the square, dark sunglasses over his eyes, arms crossed as if he wasn’t creepily surveilling a six-year-old. Emma sat three tables away with a coloring book open in front of her and a glass of peach juice beside it—served, oddly, in a champagne flute.

“She refuses to drink from plastic,” Amy muttered, sipping her espresso beside him. “Told me once it was ‘unsightly.’ She’s six.”

Jay let out a faint snort. Emma was focused, brows pinched slightly, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she colored inside the lines. Not scribbles—clean, even strokes. Her sundress was bright. Her sandals were spotless. And when a tourist’s kid squealed nearby, Emma looked up with a flick of her lashes that Jay knew all too well.

“She might be mine,” he murmured, eyes focused on the kid. “What a terrifying thought.”

“Terrifying that she’s yours?” Amy asked dryly.

Jay nodded. “Yeah. I mean, can you imagine? Me? With a kid?”

Amy snorted. “You’d put her in designer overalls.”

Jay puffed his chest proudly. “She deserves nothing less.”

Sunghoon saw her later that afternoon, under the fig tree by the orchard. Emma was crouched in the dirt, arranging pebbles into a messy circle around something she’d scratched into the soil with a stick. A butterfly landed nearby. She didn’t move—just watched it in silence, eyes wide with wonder.

A woman came over, offering some pastry to Emma who immediately stood up to look at the food. When she scrunched up her nose at it, Sunghoon smiled to himself, recognizing that stubborn streak.

Amy stood beside him, arms crossed loosely. “She’s very picky. She hates raisins,” she offered. “Picks them out of everything. Cookies. Bread. Throws them at birds, sometimes.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Birds?”

“It’s her favorite animal. Always the highlight of her drawings.”

He didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes on Emma as she adjusted one final stone, then stood back to admire her handiwork. A small, crooked flower drawn in dirt, circled with mismatched pebbles. She clapped once, proud of herself.

Sunghoon smiled faintly. “She’s my daughter,” he said, soft enough that even Amy might not have caught it. “I know it.”

Jake saw her at the school library. Emma was curled on a beanbag in the corner, a book nearly as big as her lap open across her knees. Occasionally, she’d whisper something to herself, then giggle like she’d cracked a private joke. Her glasses kept slipping down her nose, and every few minutes she’d push them up again with an absent-minded jab of her finger.

“She likes logic puzzles,” Amy whispered from the next shelf. “Reads ahead in class.”

Jake watched in fascination as Emma turned a page and promptly bonked herself in the forehead with the stiff cardboard. She made a dramatic little “oof” sound, then looked around—saw no one had noticed—and laughed at herself.

“She’s smart,” Jake murmured, smiling despite himself. “And clumsy.”

Amy looked at him knowingly. “Like someone you know?”

Emma had already gone back to reading, entirely absorbed, glasses slipping again. He watched her, chest tugging strangely.

“I feel like she’s mine,” he said finally. “I mean, she’s smart, clumsy. Her demeanor reminds me of myself.”

None of them spoke it aloud to each other. But in their separate corners of the island, in different lights and at different times, they all began to wonder the same thing.

What if she really was my child?

vii: Exes and Whys

The first time you saw Emma hanging out with one of his potential fathers, you went batshit. You almost lashed out on Sunghoon—who was with her at the time, but Lea was able to stop you just in time before you could make a scene with your daughter present. Lea and Amy had to take the brunt of your anger.

Amy explained that all three of them had heard from someone that one of them could be Emma’s dad. It took some serious convincing—one which involved sitting your down while Lea and Amy held you on either arms to calm you down—before you eventually agreed that they deserved to at least get to know Emma.

That weekend, you watched Jay and Emma spend time together. They were crouched side-by-side at the back of the bookstore. You sat at the café next door, pretending to read while watching them through the open window. You didn’t like this idea at all, but you wanted to give it a chance.

Emma, legs swinging from the edge of a stepstool, flipped through a picture book while Jay knelt beside her, pointing at words and asking, “What do you think happens next?”

“She gets turned into a snail,” Emma replied seriously, like it was obvious.

Jay chuckled. “Solid twist.”

You lingered to watch them longer than you meant to. When Emma eventually noticed you, she ran up to join you with Jay in tow.  He just smiled at you and said, “We found the weirdest book. It’s kind of amazing.”

You only offered a clipped nod before turning to Emma as she showed you the pictures in the book. Jake’s turn came with the weekly beach clean-up. He somehow ended up carrying Emma in one arm and a leaking bucket of seashells and rocks in the other, grinning despite the mess.

“I’m starting a rock museum,” Emma explained when she spotted you. “Uncle Jake’s the janitor.”

Jake wiped his sandy hands on his jeans. “I asked to be head of security, but apparently I wasn’t intimidating enough.”

You didn’t stay long, just long enough to see him trip over a bucket and nearly fall into the tide. Emma cackled, and you couldn’t help the reluctant smile that pulled at your lips. She was having fun. That’s all that mattered.

And then there was the art fair too. You’d gone mostly for the free churros, but Emma got sucked into the craft tent, and of course Sunghoon was there—already drawing with a group of overly ambitious kids.

When Emma wandered over to him, she handed him a stick of chalk and said, “Can you draw a castle?”

So he did. A sweeping, moss-covered thing, all turrets and arches, delicately shaded like it was made to be hung in museums. Emma crouched beside him, adding a purple dragon with uneven wings. You stood across the square, your heart crawling up into your throat. And when they stepped back to admire their work—her tiny hand brushing his—you had to look away.

Through it all, you kept your distance. Smiled when Emma came home with funny stories. Listened when she said she hoped she’d see “the bookstore guy” or “the rock guy” or “the drawing guy” again. And quietly braced yourself for the moment it would all become real. Because deep down, you knew it couldn’t go on like this forever.

“Uncle Jake’s silly. I like him.”

Your heart twisted a little. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. And I like Uncle Jay too. He said he’s got a big boat.”

You chuckled, running your hands gently through her hair. “Yeah, he does.”

“Your friends are not mean, Mom. They’re okay,” she added, beaming. “And did you know Uncle Hoonie is an architect?”

“I did.”

“He said architects draw houses and buildings. It’s cool.”

You smiled. “Do you wanna be an architect?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I want to be a marine biologist.”

“Oh?” you asked, propping yourself on your elbow. “What does a marine biologist do?”

She launched into a surprisingly detailed explanation about dolphins, seaweed, and how sharks weren’t actually evil. You listened, nodding along, trying not to think about how easy this all seemed for her. And how hard it still was for you.

The next morning, you told your friends about your conversation with Emma. It was late afternoon when the three of you gathered on the patio, just far enough from the orchard that your voices wouldn’t carry. You had lemonade in your glass, sunglasses on your head, and your jaw clenched just slightly as you watched Emma zip between the trees, her laugh echoing on the breeze.

Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon trailed after her like oversized puppies. Jake was trying to toss fallen oranges into a basket while Emma called out scores like a basketball referee. Sunghoon was crouched beside her, gently brushing dirt off her knees with a folded napkin. And Jay, of course, was doing the most Jay thing imaginable—standing a few feet away, watching it all quietly, sipping from a water bottle like he was above the chaos but secretly just shy around Emma.

“It’s Lover Boy,” Amy said, plucking a grape off the plate in front of her.

Lea blinked. “You said your vote is on Playboy.”

“That was when I hadn’t met Emma in the flesh yet,” Amy popped the grape in her mouth. “Now that she’s grown, and I’ve met Lover Boy, I’m pretty sure it’s him. She’s got her hatred for raisins to back it up, too.”

Lea snorted. “Nah. It’s Shy Boy. Emma’s being a massive klutz can only be explained by genetics.”

“Oh, so that’s hereditary now?” Amy asked, chuckling.

“It could be, who knows?” said Lea, shrugging. “I will say, though. She’s got Playboy’s eyes.”

You didn’t say anything. Just sipped your lemonade, eyes tracking Emma as she darted behind a tree, making all three men spin around to look for her.

“She’s got pieces of all of them,” Lea said after a moment. “Honestly, I can’t tell. She’s... Emma. You know?”

Amy nodded. “She takes after her mother a lot. Anyone would have a hard time guessing which one is her dad.”

There was a pause while you all watched Jake lift Emma onto his shoulders so she could try to reach a branch. She shrieked with laughter when he spun in a slow circle and nearly tripped over his own feet. Sunghoon instinctively reached out to steady them both, and Jay looked up from where he was sitting, brows furrowed in concern. The three men exchanged glances—then they all laughed.

“At least the three of them get along,” Lea commented. “Men are more civil than I thought.”

You hummed but said nothing, eyes lingering on Emma as she stuck out her tongue and made a silly face. She was glowing. She had no idea that her entire life might be shifting beneath her feet.

Amy nudged your elbow. “You okay?”

Before you could respond, you noticed Jay approaching, and quiet fell over your small circle. He slowed when he reached the edge of the patio, giving a polite nod to the others before looking at you.

“Hi,” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Oh wow, would you look at the time,” Lea said suddenly, standing up. “I need to check on the muffins!”

“Right. Muffins in the oven. Burning. Very urgent,” Amy said, scrambling up after her.

Jay smirked as he watched your friends scramble away on purpose. “I love your friends. They’re very tactful.”

You scoffed. “And very nosy too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Jay agreed, sitting on the chair Lea had just vacated. “So, Shy Boy, Lover Boy, and Playboy.” Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t say anything.

“Nice nicknames. Who came up with it?” he grinned, leaning back on the chair and crossing his legs. “Let me guess, Lea?”

You couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah. But where did you even hear that? Have you been eavesdropping this whole time?”

“No, but I’ve heard it a few times in passing. I mean, obviously I’m Playboy,” he said, pointing to himself. “Jake’s definitely Shy Boy. And that makes Sunghoon your Lover Boy.”

He turned to you, grinning mischievously. “He was the guy who broke your heart, right? I ought to thank him. That summer changed my life.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you here to gossip, Playboy?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and leaning in. “I’m here to ask why you never told me she might be mine.”

Your mind stopped functioning for a second, completely caught off guard by the question and the way he dropped it so casually. You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t. You just took a deep breath and looked away.

Of course. This conversation was doomed to come.

viii: Thank You, Next

You’d never seen her this happy. Emma had always been bright, quick to laugh, quick to love, but this was different. This was lit-from-within, cheeks-pink-from-running, never-stopping-to-breathe kind of joy. You’d opted to let the three of them check into the BNB so they could spend more time with her.

Emma tore through the orchard like it had been made for her. Hair in a frizzy ponytail, arms flapping like wings, cheeks flushed from the heat. And trailing behind her like loyal satellites were the three men she’d only just met.

Jake was her obvious favorite at first. He’d found an old chalkboard and some planks and convinced her they could build a lemonade stand, even though he had no real plan and kept hammering nails crookedly.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” she scolded, tapping the plank he’d just attached.

“I’m not!” Jake said, offended. “I saw someone do it this way and it worked out fine.”

Sunghoon, naturally, had to take over. Inside the house, you pulled the laundry off the line and folded it stiffly. You paused when you heard her laugh again—clear as glass—and glanced out the kitchen window.

Jay was under the fig tree with her now, holding a clipboard and pencil. He was showing her how to draw a map of the orchard. She leaned close to study his handwriting, her forehead creasing a little in concentration. He watched her like he didn’t want to blink.

When you stepped out onto the porch with a basket of folded sheets, Sunghoon was crouched near the steps, gently wiping dirt from Emma’s scraped knee with a napkin. She sniffled but didn’t cry. He smiled at her, whispering something you couldn’t hear, and she nodded solemnly before getting up and dashing off to find the others.

Sunghoon stood slowly and noticed you. “You’ve got a few loose planks back there,” he said quietly, pointing to a spot behind the house. “I could fix them. It wouldn’t take long.”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve lived with them this long.”

“I know. But I’m here now.” That made you look at him. His face hadn’t changed—still calm, still thoughtful—but there was meaning behind those words. Like an apology, or a promise, or both.

“I’m not gonna play house with you, Sunghoon.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said calmly. “I just… want to help.”

“Well, don’t,” you replied, lips pressing into a thin line. He nodded once and stepped back.

That evening, the lemonade stand had collapsed, the map was unfinished, and Emma had declared herself “Queen of Orange Land.” She demanded a crown. Sunghoon made one out of wildflowers. Jake gave her a sticker badge. Jay carried her on his shoulders as she waved at no one.

From the patio, you watched it all. Arms crossed, with an unreadable expression. You’d spent six years guarding your peace. Six years building a world that revolved around you and your daughter, just you two, always. And now these men had arrived, pulling at old threads. Disturbing your peace.

Jake approached you later, holding out a glass of lemonade like a peace offering. “Hi.”

You took the glass without looking at him. “Thanks.”

“She’s a lot like you,” Jake said. “Bold, smart, very pretty. She has big dreams, too. Like you.”

You didn’t say anything, just quietly sipped on your lemonade. Jake continued. “Remember in Paris? You said you wanted to run your own hotel and—”

“I don’t remember,” you cut in.

His smile dropped for just a second. “Right. Well… Back then, I said I’m gonna stay in your hotel as a guest. And—”

“Stop it, Jake,” you replied without missing a beat. “There is a chance that you might be Emma’s dad, and if you were, you could be a dad to her if you want. But that’s between you and her. That relationship doesn’t extend to me.”

You rose to your feet and left before he could say anything. You heard him call out to you, but you didn’t look back.

Later that night, long after Emma had passed out in bed, you ran into Jay in the hallway. He was barefoot, hair damp from a shower, heading toward the kitchen.

He noticed you first. “Still mad at me?”

You walked past him without stopping. “No.”

Jay turned, surprised. “Really?”

“That would require emotion.”

He didn’t smile. “Got it.”

As you walked away, you remembered how he asked you a few days ago why you didn’t tell him about Emma. You remembered being unable to say anything in response. Jay said it was fine and that he would wait until you were ready to tell him.

“But as you know, I’m a busy man and I’m not very patient,” he’d said at the time, basically giving you a deadline, and you didn’t appreciate that at all.

ix: “I Don't Spend Time Wondering About the Past”

The sun had set. Emma had fallen asleep after a tantrum over popsicle colors—red was the only acceptable flavor, apparently—and for the first time all day, the house was quiet. You were in the kitchen twisting at a jam jar with far too much effort, when Jake walked in.

“Need help?” he asked, smiling.

You jumped a little. “I got it,” you said, grunting once before giving up. “Okay, no, I don’t. I think the lid’s glued shut.”

He took the jar, twisted once, and popped it open. You stared at him like he’d just performed a magic trick. “I loosened it,” you said defensively.

He handed it back with a smile. “Yes, you did. Great job.” 

The compliment caught you off guard, and you looked down at the jar in your hands, like you had suddenly forgotten why you wanted jam in the first place. Jake noticed your expression.

“Sorry. It just came out,” he said after a second. “My fiancee says she doesn’t know if I mean them sometimes, or if I’m just complimenting her out of habit.”

You glanced at him. “Fiancée? You’re engaged?”

Jake nodded, almost bashfully. “Since December. She’s great. Very not-me, which is probably why it works.”

“Congratulations,” you said, feeling a genuine warmth in your heart.

He looked at you, serious now. “I didn’t come to bother you or anything. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” You flattened your lips together and shrugged.

“I was just really surprised to get that letter,” he added, chuckling softly. “And I came because it sounded urgent, and I wanted to help with whatever it was. You didn’t give me details, just that you wanted me to come as soon as I can.”

“I know,” you replied, shaking your head at yourself. “That was kind of the point. And I did need your help at the time, but things got better.”

“What did happen?” he asked, leaning on the counter. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

You sighed and looked at him, really looked at him. Jake had been a sweetheart when you first met. He was a clumsy, nervous wreck, but he was endearing. You had your best memories of Paris with him, but he probably had the worst memory of you leaving him with nothing but a note.  He didn’t deserve the hostility he got from you the first time you saw him again after six long years.

“Emma was sick, really sick,” you confessed. “I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. And for the first time, I thought… maybe she needs her dad.”

You looked away. “But like I said, things got better. So I didn’t have to send those letters after all.”

Jake hummed, nodding as he took in the information. “I followed you here, you know. Six years ago.” He said after a few seconds. “But Corsica is a big island and I didn’t know where to look, so, I gave up and went back home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I wasn’t upset about it,” he chuckled, then paused to think. “Well, I was, a little bit. And it took a while to recover from the bruised ego I got that day.”

He glanced over. “Can I ask you something?” You nodded.

“Did you hate it? That night?” Jake let out a shaky laugh. “I just—I’ve thought about it a lot. About how I must’ve said the wrong thing or done something wrong. And I’ve always wondered if you left because of that.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t hate it. I just…”

You took a breath, then admitted quietly, “You scared me. When you said you were in love with me.”

“Huh…” He nodded, seemingly coming to a realization. “I get it. Looking back now, it was kind of a stupid thing to say.”

You snorted. “Yeah. It was.”

“But that’s all in the past,” he declared, exhaling. “And I didn’t come here for a second shot at this, or anything. I just really thought you needed help, and our time might be short, but to me, you’re an old friend. I like helping old friends.”

You smiled at that, genuinely moved. Then he added, “And of course, after finding out about Emma, I had to stay. I needed to stay. The idea that I could be a father is just… I don’t know. Exciting and scary at the same time.”

You didn’t reply right away. Just watched him, this man who used to be a charming, blabbering mess, now standing in your kitchen talking about being a father. “I think you’ll be a good one,” you said at last.

Jake smiled, softer than before. “I hope so.”

“Not just with Emma,” you added, and you meant it. “You’ll be a wonderful dad to your kids, Jake.”

“Thank you,” he said, bashfully scratching the back of his neck. His ears had turned a little pink. “I’d love me a daughter. I’d spoil her rotten.”

You sighed. “If Emma turns out to be yours, please don’t spoil her too much. She’s already spoiled enough as it is. I can’t even.”

Jake snorted. “She’s not that bad.”

You gave him a look. “She threw a fit over popsicle colors. Colors, Jake.”

He laughed, loud and boyish. “Right. She did.”

You smiled despite yourself. Just for a second, it felt like old times again—comfortable, uncomplicated, and a little silly. But only for a second.

The night was still and quiet. Cool air clung to your skin as you stepped onto the porch, barefoot, holding a half-empty mug of tea. You’d part ways with Jake after a hearty chat, and Jay was nowhere to be found ever since Emma fell asleep. So, you weren’t expecting to see anyone else.

But there he was, crouched at the edge of the yard, a flashlight balanced between his knees and a screwdriver in his hand, fussing over the fence. You blinked. “I told you to leave it.”

Sunghoon looked up, startled. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

You took a slow sip. “Didn’t realize you packed a toolbox.”

He glanced down at the pitiful setup: a multitool, a roll of twine, and what looked suspiciously like a spoon. “Improvising.”

You scoffed under your breath and stepped down from the porch, walking over to the shed nearby. “The toolbox is here.”

He followed you quietly to the shed. You flicked on the light, crouched, and pulled out the battered red toolbox from under a shelf. “Here,” you said, setting it down at his feet.

“Thanks,” he murmured, kneeling beside it. 

He opened the lid, hesitant, like it felt wrong to accept even this small gesture from you. You turned on your heel to leave, but he spoke before you could take a step.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind the company.”

You considered him for a second, then walked out without a word. He took that as a no. Ten minutes later, you were back with your mug refilled, your sleeves pushed up, and a blanket tossed over one shoulder.

“Is it that hard? Or are you just slow?” you asked flatly.

He didn’t smile, but you saw his lips twitch. “Just trying not to wake everyone.”

You set your mug down on the steps and sat, knees pulled up. You didn’t know why you came back. Maybe it was the quiet, or the way his voice had sounded—not desperate, just inviting.  And familiar.

You watched him work. He was careful with his hands, looping the twine where a nail was missing, reinforcing the base with wood from a broken crate you’d nearly thrown out. He moved quietly, methodically, and with expertise like the handyman that you remembered him to be.

“You still like fixing things that don’t concern you?” you asked before you could stop it.

He glanced at you, surprised. “Only the ones I have a shot at fixing.”

You didn’t reply. But the words stayed with you, nestled somewhere in your chest like a jab you were sure he didn’t mean to throw. “You always did think everything is a fixer-upper,” you mumbled bitterly, looking away and taking a sip.

The night stretched on. A few crickets chirped in the distance. Sunghoon finished tying off the last bit of twine, wiped his hands on his jeans, then came to sit beside you on the steps. Not too close.

“How have you been?” he asked, voice low. “All these years.”

You took a sip of your tea. “Fine.”

He didn’t press. That was how he always was—patient, never pushing. And maybe that was part of the problem. Back then, he’d waited too long to be honest. By the time he said something you needed to hear, it had already been too late.

Now here he was again, waiting. Sitting beside you like no time had passed. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Emma likes having you around.”

A small smile crossed his lips. “She’s incredible. Bright. Funny. Stubborn as hell. Bet she gets that from you.”

You scoffed, though you were unable to hide your smile.

“She also has a big heart,” he added, looking at you. “And big dreams, like you.”

You looked away. The stars were dull tonight, almost invisible.

“I didn’t think I’d be back here,” he said after a while. “But I’m glad I am.”

You said nothing. He continued. “I’ve missed this... Being around you.”

You looked at him then. At the soft way his features caught the porch light, at the steadiness in his gaze, even when he wasn’t meeting yours. At the man he’d become, or maybe always was, and you just hadn’t seen it through the pain of what didn’t work out.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Sunghoon,” you said quietly.

“I don’t want anything,” he replied. “I just want to be here… if you’ll let me.”

You didn’t respond. Not yes, not no. Just reached for your mug again, letting the warmth seep into your hands, into your chest. It was easier not to go there—not with him, not with anyone. Those memories were too bright and too warm. Too dangerous.

After a while, Sunghoon said, “Sometimes I wonder if I could’ve done anything different. Stayed a little longer. Said something sooner.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t look at him. “I don’t spend time wondering about the past,” you said before rising to your feet and walking away.

But you did spend time wondering about the past. More often than you cared to admit.

x: “Boyfriend Olympics”

After a restless night and too much thinking, the beach felt like the only place wide enough to hold all the noise in your head. So you walked there early the next morning. The tide was low, and the sand was damp beneath your feet. The breeze smelled like salt and oranges. It was early enough that the sun was still halfway behind the hills, casting a soft glow across the water. You stopped near the shore and closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing it in.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl on this island.”

You turned, unsurprised to find Jay strolling your way—barefooted, linen shirt unbuttoned all the way down, hair a tousled mess like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided to head to the beach first.

“Okay. Second favorite,” he corrected himself. “Emma’s first. Obviously.”

You gave him a look. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“What could be better than running into you on this fine morning?” he asked back, joining you by the water.

You sighed through your nose and kept walking, letting the waves graze your ankles. Jay fell into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I saw you sneak out this morning,” he said. “Fishy.”

“I wasn’t sneaking out. It’s my house, my home. I do whatever I want.”

“Okay, someone woke up grumpy,” he teased. “What happened? Lover’s quarrel with Shy Boy or Lover Boy?”

You turned to give him a deadpan expression. Jay grinned. “What? It couldn’t be me. I’m perfect. I’d never quarrel with you.”

You snorted. “You’re many things, Jay. Perfect is not one of them.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stretched lazily, arms overhead. “So what are we doing today?”

“We?” you echoed, arching a brow.

“Yes, we. Don’t be selfish. Count me in.”

You shook your head, walking faster, if only to end the conversation. “I came here to be alone.”

“And look how well that turned out,” he said easily, falling into step beside you. “Come on. You haven’t eaten, have you?��

Truthfully, you hadn’t. But your stomach wasn’t the one making noise—it was your mind. Still echoing with words left unsaid on the porch. Jay was watching you like he already knew that.

“Why?” you asked finally.

“Because I’m starving,” he said, like it was obvious. “And I know this place just around the island. Best pastries I’ve ever had.”

You gave him a look. He gave one right back. “And you could use a distraction. Didn’t they say carbs cure everything? Especially for grumpy women?”

You scoffed under your breath. “No, thanks.”

You turned to continue walking, but a loud, unmistakable grumble made you stop. It was coming from your belly, making you place your hand instinctively over it. Behind you, Jay chuckled in satisfaction.

“See? You need to eat. Come on.” He grabbed your hand with a smile, and you let him drag you back to his boat just by the docks. You followed reluctantly, but not unhappily.

Guess this was better than returning to the house. To the quiet rooms and the questions you weren’t ready to ask yourself yet.

The boat was different from what you remembered from summers past, but the vibe was nearly identical—sleek, spotless, with that casual arrogance that seemed woven into the very leather of the seats. A floating extension of Jay himself.

“What happened to the other one?” you asked as he helped you aboard.

“Sold it,” he replied casually. “It was getting boring, so I had to get a new one.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his unchanging attitude. “Of course you did.”

He laughed, unfazed, and nodded at the captain onboard. They exchanged a few quick words while you looked around, then the engine rumbled to life, and the boat pulled smoothly from the dock. You leaned against the railing, letting the breeze blow through your hair.

It was strange, how easy it was to fall into old rhythms with Jay. Like no time had passed at all. But time had passed. Years of it. And not all of them kind.

The ride was short, maybe twenty minutes around the island, but smooth and indulgent—like most things in Jay’s life. He talked the whole time, mostly nonsense, from complaining about the awful airline food he endured on the way here to ranking the best gelato spots in Corsica. He claimed to be an expert, though you were sure he was mixing up two different towns. You didn’t mind. It was welcome noise, and it kept your mind from drifting too far back into the night before.

They docked at a small port just off the main road, where a sleepy little restaurant with blue-striped umbrellas waited, already smelling of butter and espresso. You chose the table closest to the water. Jay insisted on pulling your chair out with exaggerated courtesy. You rolled your eyes but sat anyway, draping your blanket loosely over your lap. A waitress brought out a basket of warm bread and two menus.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Jay said as the waitress approached, his tone casual but his eyes still on you.

You didn’t meet his gaze. “You don’t even know what I want.”

“I know you have good taste. I trust you.”

You glanced up at him then, just briefly. Jay always said things like that. Like none of it ever cost him anything. “You picked this place,” you said, eyes back on the menu. “Shouldn’t you be the one with recommendations?”

He only shrugged, smiling. “Doesn’t matter. I trust you.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the corners of your mouth twitched. After placing your orders, you took a moment to look around. The restaurant had brick walls and wooden beams overhead, mismatched chairs and wobbly tables, potted plants hanging on the eaves. It had that classic Corsican charm—weathered, warm, and beautiful.

You bit back a smile and looked out at the sea. “This place is nice.”

“It’s better with company,” Jay said, leaning back with his arms stretched along the seat, completely at ease.

You shot him a look. “Well, obviously you’re always surrounded by company.”

“Not your company,” he said smoothly.

You gave a noncommittal hum, breaking off a piece of bread. “Flirting before breakfast. Bold of you.”

“Flirting? Who’s flirting?” he asked, mock offended. “I’m just appreciating the view.”

You gave him a flat stare. Jay grinned. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re easy on the eyes. You should apologize for that.”

You snorted. “You haven’t changed at all.”

He reached for a slice of bread, tearing into it like it was a croissant at a Paris café. “Sure, I have. I’ve matured. I drink my espresso black now. I read the news.”

You raised an eyebrow. He grinned wider. “Okay, I skim headlines. But still. Personal growth.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself, and that only made his grin widen. “There it is,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get a laugh out of you for days.”

You looked at him then, caught off guard by the simple truth of that statement. “How have you been?” he asked when you didn’t say anything.

You hesitated, but only for a second. “I’ve been okay. Busy. Tired. But okay.”

Jay nodded. “Motherhood looks good on you.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your shoulders loosen just a little. Maybe it was the sun. Or the coffee. Or Jay’s ridiculousness. “What about you?” you asked, cutting into your food. “Still cruising through life with no plans?”

Jay hummed thoughtfully. “More or less. No wife. No kids. No fixed address. You know me. I like the freedom. Wake up wherever I want. Say yes to whatever I want. No five-year plan. No mortgage.”

You raised a brow. “Living the dream, huh?”

“Something like that.” He gave you a slow smile. “Though… I might be willing to settle down. For the right person. You know, someone who cooks. Someone like you.”

You gave him a look, unimpressed but amused. “I don’t cook.”

“Ah,” he said, feigning disappointment. “There goes my dream.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you took a bite.

“I’m serious, though,” he said, grinning. “Don’t you feel lucky? You could be the one to tame me.”

“I think I’d rather wrestle a crocodile.”

Jay laughed, tossing a sugar packet at you. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

You shook your head, biting into a still-warm pastry and letting the silence settle for a moment. His words echoed faintly in your mind—the right person—but you didn’t give them space to take root. Not now.

The sun had climbed higher now, and the light on the water shimmered like glass. You exhaled quietly, letting yourself enjoy the moment. Just for now.

The breakfast with Jay had ended the way most things with him did—on a laugh, with one too many compliments. He walked you back to the docks like a gentleman, offered you his jacket when the wind picked up, and only let go of your hand once he helped you down from the boat.

“You sure you don’t want to grab lunch too?” he asked, hopeful.

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“Exactly. Gives us plenty of time to work up an appetite.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

You scoffed. “Keep your dick in your pants. Don’t just go around brandishing it to every girl you meet.”

Jay grinned like he was being tickled. “So territorial. Exactly how I like my women.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “Bye, Jay.”

Back at the house, you barely had time to slip your shoes off before you heard someone knocking out back. You peeked through the window. Sunghoon, holding a sack of soil in one hand and a small potted herb in the other.

You stepped out, and he gave you a small, wordless smile before heading toward the garden bed like it was the most normal thing in the world. When you asked what he was doing, he only said, “The basil was dying. Figured you’d want fresh ones.” You didn’t say thank you. But you brought him a glass of water anyway.

That became the pattern. Jay would show up late mornings or just after lunch, always with something in hand—coffee, pastries, once even a new pair of designer sunglasses he claimed were on sale from the mainland. He flirted shamelessly, but never crossed the line.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who looks good rolling her eyes at me,” he said once, after catching you doing exactly that. “Dangerous, really.”

You swatted him with a dish towel. He looked like he might thank you for it.

Sunghoon, in contrast, never announced his visits. He just showed up. Fixing the busted shutter. Watering the trees before you could. Replacing the broken porch light without saying a word. He never tried to be noticed, which just made it harder not to notice him.

When Emma asked Jay to help with a school art project, he brought glitter. So much glitter. The three of you spent half the afternoon scraping it off the floor.

When Emma asked Sunghoon, he brought her to the orchard, showed her how to press flowers between books. Taught her the names of each one like they were old friends.

You found them that evening at the table, heads bent over an album they’d made from scratch. She called it ‘Island Things That Make Me Happy.’ The last page had a pressed bloom labeled Mom’s smile. You didn’t ask who picked that one.

Jay took you and Emma on short boat rides when the weather was good. Taught her how to steer while you sat beside them, bare feet up on the seat, pretending not to enjoy it too much.

Sunghoon walked with you both through the orchard when it was too hot to do anything else. Sometimes he said nothing for minutes at a time. And it wasn’t awkward. It was just peaceful and satisfying.

They were opposites in every way. Jay loud and golden, like the blinding sun at noon. Sunghoon was quiet and constant, like the breeze you didn’t feel until it was gone.

And you? You kept your heart carefully tucked away, and you were starting to feel it stir---in laughter that slipped out before you could stop it. In the way your eyes found them without meaning to. In the little moments between breath and memory, it felt almost comforting to imagine what might’ve been if things had gone differently.

“So... who’s winning the boyfriend Olympics?”

You nearly choked on your drink. Amy snorted. “Yeah, we’ve been keeping score.”

You gave them both a flat look from across the kitchen island. “That’s ridiculous.”

But even you had to admit, the past few days had taken a turn. Jay had declared open season on flirtation, popping up everywhere you went—elbowing his way into your errands, offering dramatic compliments every time you so much as tied your hair up. Sunghoon, though he didn’t say much, would always show up when you needed someone, fixing things around the house and helping in any way he could without being asked.

Different approaches. Same intentions.

“She blushes more around Jay,” Lea whispered behind her wineglass.

“No, no,” Amy countered, eyes narrowing through the open shutters. “Watch her when Sunghoon’s around. She goes all weird and soft.”

Jake, who had been half-listening while Emma played with his shoelaces under the table, finally spoke up. “Honestly? I’m just glad no one’s betting on me. That would be a very sad chart.”

Lea laughed. “Please, you’re clearly the fan favorite in the under-six category.”

Jake raised both hands in surrender. “What can I say? Emma has excellent taste.”

“Knock it off,” you told your friends as you sat on the chair next to Jake’s. “No one’s winning whatever competition you think is happening here.”

Amy nudged Jake’s arm with a mischievous grin. “Come on, Jake. If you had to choose—Team Playboy or Team Lover Boy?”

Jake blinked. “Why are you asking me? And wait, Playboy and Lover Boy? What’s my nickname?”

“Shy Boy, of course,” Lea replied, and that made Jake grimace.

“Come on, Shy Boy. Pick a side,” Amy said cheerfully. “You have to because you’re already here… And because you gave up too easily.”

Jake frowned. “I didn’t give up. I was never in the running. Didn’t even have the intention of joining.”

“Oh please,” Lea chimed in, eyes sparkling. “You had a head start. You were the first candidate. First night. First everything. And now look at you—sidelined, like a retired soccer player coaching kiddie league.”

Jake narrowed his eyes at her. “Wow. Okay. That was a little offensive.”

Amy cackled, clearly delighted. “Look at him. He’s sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” Jake muttered. Then he paused, glanced down at Emma, tangled around his foot, and sighed. “I’m just a maybe-dad, happily engaged, trying to eat a muffin in peace.”

Lea made a show of whispering in Amy’s ear. “He’s sulking,” she said loudly.

You laughed when Jake’s brows furrowed deeper. Then, trying to de-escalate the teasing, you told them to stop. “That’s enough, girls. It’s never gonna happen.”

All three of them looked at you. “They could have pieces of Emma. But none of them are getting another piece of me,” you declared, which was more of a reminder to yourself than to anyone else. You caught Jake’s gaze beside you. 

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him and pointed with your index finger.  “Not even you, Shy Boy.”

He groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on! I said I’m not—” he huffed, giving all three of you a flat look. “Whatever,” he muttered finally, biting into his pastry with another huff.

The girls burst into laughter again, and Jake muttered something through a mouthful of muffin. Outside, the sun climbed higher over the garden, where Jay’s lounging by the fountain and Sunghoon kept quietly working in the dirt, unaware—or maybe perfectly aware—of the scoreboard inside.

xi: Shoreline Shenanigans

The night was warm and glittering, the sky clear and wide above the orange orchard as lanterns swayed in the breeze. Lea had gone all out with the decorations, stringing up lights between trees, setting up a long table draped with linen and wildflowers. Music was playing from a speaker, and the air was rich with grilled food, wine, and overlapping conversations. It was Amy’s last night on the island, and she was determined to make it count.

“Come on, one more round!” she shouted, raising her glass from where she stood atop a chair. “Here’s to endless summers and hoping wrinkles and fine lines don’t show on our faces until we’re eighty!”

Everyone laughed and drank to that—including you, seated between Jake and Lea with Emma fast asleep in Jake’s lap, a flower crown lopsided on her tiny head. Jay was across the table, looking like he belonged in a magazine spread—tan, teeth flashing, wineglass in hand. Sunghoon stood near the grill, quietly flipping skewers, but he paused to honor Amy’s toast.

You and Jake brought Emma upstairs, making sure she was sound asleep before rejoining the party. The night blurred sweetly—giggles and half-shouted conversations, music thumping louder, Amy pulling you into a spin, Jay joining with a twirl that nearly knocked over a candelabra.

Past midnight, your girls were lying on blankets under the stars, too drunk to form coherent sentences. Amy had pulled Jake onto the grass with them, drunkenly urging him to take a group photo. You wandered away from the crowd, down the winding stone steps to the beach, where the music faded into background noise. The sea stretched before you, dark and quiet, and the breeze carried the faint smell of salt and sand.

“You’re sneaking off again,” came Jay’s voice behind you.

You turned to see him leaning against the railing of the stone steps, wineglass still in hand but half-empty now. He looked softer in the moonlight. Less like a flirt and more real.

“And you’re stalking me,” you said, scoffing.

Jay smirked, stepping closer. “Guilty. But only because every time I blink, you vanish. Starting to think you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“I am.”

That made him laugh. “You’re very honest. Would it hurt to sugarcoat things a little?”

You chuckled, then turned your gaze back to the sea, arms folded loosely over your chest. The waves lapped at the sand gently. “Shouldn’t you be back up there? Being charming?”

“I should be, but there’s no point since you’re not there anymore,” he replied without missing a beat.

You let out a dry laugh. “You are such a flirt.”

He shrugged. “Don’t you already know that?”

“Yes, and it still surprises me every time,” you sighed, tutting. “I gotta get better at that.”

You glanced at him then, and he was already looking at you. The smile he gave you was gentler this time. “Think me sticking around would help you get lots of practice with that?”

“Probably,” you said half-heartedly, shrugging.

“No, but seriously,” he beamed, tilting his head as he looked at you. “Would you?”

You snorted. “You’re not seriously talking about staying, are you?”

Jay shrugged, pushing one hand in his pocket as he finished the contents of his glass. You blinked, genuinely perplexed.

“Whatever, Jay,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Jay fixed his gaze to the sea, considering. “Maybe I’m serious. Or maybe I’m just floating ideas. Who knows, I might finally be ready to be someone’s stable domestic guy. You know? Have kids. Grow tomatoes. Settle down.”

You laughed. “Settle down?”

He grinned. “I could even do the whole marriage proposal surprise thing. Maybe a grand church wedding on top of a hill, too.”

You looked at him, trying to read the expression behind the smile. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” He laughed lightly. “Okay, maybe I am. But it’s not a bad idea. I’d definitely give it a try for you.”

You stared at him, mouth parted slightly, not sure if you were supposed to laugh or run. He was joking. He had to be. It was Jay, after all. Jay, who flirts like it’s his life’s calling—who didn’t do ‘serious’, who didn’t believe in marriage or love, let alone surprise proposals and weddings on hills. And even if he meant any of it, even a little, you didn’t want to believe it.

He took a step closer, but didn’t touch you. Just looked at you like he was waiting for something. You blinked, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

You didn’t answer. And then he moved slowly, deliberately, reaching to place his hands on your shoulders. You knew what was coming. Could’ve stepped back. Should’ve.

But you didn’t. You stayed frozen in place, caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity, until his mouth brushed softly against yours. It was fleeting, too quick, almost like it didn’t happen at all. When you didn’t move or react, he came back for more.

The next kiss was nothing like the first. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until your body was pressed against his. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been waiting to taste you all night.

You gasped into him, one hand flying up to grip his shoulder, the other threading into his hair. He groaned when your hips grazed him, walking you backwards until your spine hit the stone wall behind you.

Then his hands started moving. His fingers slid beneath your shirt, his palms hot against your bare skin as they roamed your back, your sides, your hips. You clung to him, legs slightly parting to let him press in closer, and he did—grinding into you with a slow roll of his hips that made your breath catch.

“Shit,” he muttered against your mouth. 

You felt drunk, even though you weren’t. Dizzy, lit up from the inside out. Jay pulled away just enough to look at you and utter your name like a prayer. 

Then you were kissing him again, deeper this time, like you couldn’t help it. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your face to kiss you harder and rougher. His other hand slipped down, gripping your thigh, dragging it up against his hip—and you let him, desperate for more of that friction, of that hard, raging bulge between his legs.

You were losing yourself. You wanted to lose yourself. And maybe you would’ve—if not for that voice in the back of your head. The one that reminded you of the promise you made to yourself.

You pulled back, gasping, lips swollen and fingers still tangled in his shirt. Jay’s chest rose and fell against yours. “Hey,” he said breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I can’t… Jay, I can’t do this.”

He blinked. The confusion hit first, then frustration. “Why not?”

“Because,” you whispered, stepping back, shoving your hands through your hair. “I said I wouldn’t. I can’t. I’m not supposed to—”

“To what?” he asked, voice low. “Feel something?”

Your heart raced in your chest. But you didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him again. You needed air. You needed distance. You needed to get out of your own head.

You turned and ran barefoot across the sand and up the stairs, heartbeat roaring in your ears. You continued to run up the path until the music was faded and the lights from the party were nothing but soft specks in the distance.

You didn’t stop until your feet hit sand again. Until the beach opened up in front of you again. And you found someone already there—Sunghoon, standing by the shore, surprised at your sudden appearance.

Great, another storm, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he called out, brows furrowing with concern when he noticed your expression. He stepped closer. “Are you okay? Are you—are you crying?”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears. Not until his hand came up to gently brush one from your cheek. You slapped it away, then turned your back to him, dragging your sleeve across your face.

“What are you doing here, Hoon?” you muttered.

“I… I was here first,” he said, voice cautious. He tried to close the distance again, but you took a step back. “What happened? What are you running from?”

You laughed bitterly, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking down at your bare feet. “God, don’t start with that.”

Sunghoon sighed, but didn’t say anything. He walked over to you, taking off his sandals and offering it at your feet. You stared at it for a moment, then at him.

“Please. Just take them,” he said softly. “It’s cold.”

You didn’t take the sandals. You didn’t move at all. Just stood there, arms still wrapped tightly around yourself, refusing to look at him. Sunghoon didn’t insist. He just left them at your feet and turned away, hands in his pockets, gaze flitting toward the cliffs.

Above you, perched on the hill, your house glowed faintly through the trees—lit up like a beacon against the dark cliffs. The old haunted mansion, now bright and lively, strung with fairy lights and memories.

“You remember that night?” he said quietly. “We sketched the plans for your hotel on the back of a pub’s order sheet. I can’t believe I’m seeing it all in real life. Well, part of it.” Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

“We were mapping out every room,” he continued, smiling faintly. “You said you wanted a courtyard with a fountain. But not a flashy one, just something simple and charming.”

“Stop,” you said.

He paused. “Stop what?”

“Stop talking,” you replied bitterly. “Don’t stand there talking about floor plans like we built that place together. Like you had anything to do with it. Don’t act like you get to be part of that story.” Your voice was cold, and you didn’t regret a single word.

“But I was part of that story,” he said gently.

“You were supposed to be,” you smirked, turning to face him. “You said you’d stay. You said you’d be here and that you’d build a life here with me. We made plans. And then you left.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to speak—but you weren’t done.

“And I know. I know I told you to leave, but that’s not the point. The point was that you never fought for me, Sunghoon. You never fought for us.”

Sunghoon uttered your name helplessly, reaching for you but you stepped back before he could.

You took a deep breath, looking up at the sky in hopes that your tears wouldn’t fall. “You didn’t even try to fix it,” you continued, voice breaking. “You didn’t write. You didn’t call. You just vanished. And I waited—God, I waited so long, thinking maybe you’d at least try. But you didn’t.”

“I tried,” he said softly, you almost didn’t catch it.

You scoffed, mocking.“Well, apparently you didn’t try hard enough!”

“I came back!” he snapped. The sudden rise in his voice startled both of you. “I broke off the engagement and came right back!”

That stopped you. His outburst and his confession—it stopped your from talking, your mind suddenly slow at comprehending his words.

You gawked as Sunghoon’s jaw clenched before he continued. “I came running back to you because I wanted to make things right. But when I got here, I was told you were off with someone else!”

You blinked at him, stunned. “What do you mean?”

He scoffed. “Oh, so that wasn’t true, then? You weren’t off having the time of your life with some guy?”

“It was true,” you said briskly. “It doesn’t matter. What do you mean you came back here?”

Sunghoon took a step back, hurt and regret were evident on his expression, and the moonlight glinted in his eyes, wet with tears he was holding back. He took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair and looked out to the vast ocean.

He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Neither did you, still reeling in confusion and hurt at his revelation, your anger unraveling slowly and painfully.

You had built this story in your head, over and over—the story where he just didn’t love you enough to fight. But now, all of a sudden, it cracked down the middle. You had been wrong, and it hurt.

“I made a mistake,” he said after a while, looking down at his feet. “I was scared, and stupid, and I let my pride get in the way. But I never stopped thinking about you. Not once.”

You looked away. The tears were hot again, the ache crawling back up your throat.

“I never got to tell you,” he continued. “That I came back and that I love you. I thought I was too late. I just… I just went home.”

“I went home,” he repeated, laughing at himself. “My fiancee called me a fool and married me to prove it.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just kept quiet. You just stood there, tired, trembling, toes dug into the cold sand, staring at the man you once thought you’d never see again

He took a step forward, close enough for you to feel the heat of his body. He raised a hand, hesitated, then tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, letting it sink in. Letting yourself feel it for a second. Then you stepped back.

“You’re too late, Sunghoon,” you said. But even you didn’t believe it.

xii: The Elephant in the Room

The sun was high and bright when the three men boarded Jay’s yacht, one after another, as if summoned by some invisible alarm. Jake had mentioned that it was about time he had to fly back home for work, and they all knew they couldn’t keep avoiding the topic forever. Not when the answer might change all of their lives.

They sat around the polished table on the deck, a bottle of wine already open but no one had poured a glass yet. Jake spoke first. “Are we really doing this?”

Jay leaned back in his seat, sunglasses perched on his head, his face unreadable for once. “It’s now or never, boys. It’s not like we can just stick around the island forever.”

“You’re right, we can’t,” Jake agreed, sighing. “I mean, this place is lovely, but like I said, I have to go back soon.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He was standing by the railing, arms folded, eyes fixed on the stretch of sea. The silence hung for too long before Jay pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and stood.

“Let’s go see her.”

The three of them walked up to the house together—quiet and a little awkward, like kids on their way to the principal’s office. You greeted them at the door, bleary-eyed and exhausted from the night before, but you didn’t turn them away. Emma was at school, and you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a punishment that this talk had to happen without her around.

You led them to the sitting room. Nobody sat, but you did. Jay cleared his throat. “We figured it was time to talk about everything.”

You gave a tired nod. “Okay. Talk.”

Jake stepped forward, looking as sheepish as ever. “First of all… sorry. We didn’t mean to corner you like this. We just thought it’d be easier if we were all here. Together.”

“Less yelling that way,” Jay muttered.

Sunghoon ignored them both. “She looks like you,” he said quietly, eyes on you. You weren’t sure if he meant it as comfort or accusation.

“Yes, exactly,” Jake agreed. “And that makes it hard to guess which one of us is her dad, so… I think it’s time we figure that out.”

Jay chimed in casually. “She laughs like my sister’s kid. They could pass as siblings, to be honest.”

Jake shook his head. “Have you seen her nose? That’s gotta be from me.”

Sunghoon raised a hand. “She has dimples.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed, though his shrug said otherwise. “But her voice sounds exactly like my mom’s.”

Jay scoffed. “Your mom sounds like a six-year-old child?”

Jake gave him a flat look. “What about her eyes, then? Don’t they look like mine?”

“No, they don’t. But she has posh tastes,” Jay replied, smirking. “Pretty sure elegance and class are hereditary traits.”

“More like extravagance,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Jay questioned, glancing at Sunghoon with a scowl.

“Guys, enough,” you chided, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Are you here to argue resemblances or what?”

Jay shrugged. “We should just check. Get DNA samples and find out once and for all. Although, I would be totally fine with assuming fatherhood if you guys wanna back out.”

“No one’s backing out,” Sunghoon snapped. “This is a serious discussion. You can’t make jokes like that.”

Jay turned to him, smirking in amusement. “Okay, Lover Boy. Relax.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Jake chimed in, raising a hand. “I, myself, would love to find out if she’s my daughter, but… hear me out. I know it’s gonna sound crazy, but I don’t mind being half her father.”

There was a pause. You looked up at them. Jake shrugged, smiling as he added, “Or one-third, for that matter. I mean, we’ve all met her. She’s wonderful. I’d rather have a third than nothing at all.”

Sunghoon sighed, placing his hands on his waist. “Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Sim, but that’s not how the world works. You can’t just claim to be one-third of a dad.”

“Why not?” Jay said. “She’s already got all of us wrapped around her little finger. What difference does it make who passed on the stronger jawline? And finding out she’s not mine would honestly devastate me, so I’d rather not take my chances.”

Sunghoon was quiet for a long moment. Jake looked between the two of them, then back at you. “Two versus one? Guess majority wins?”

You scoffed and rose to your feet, exasperated. “Okay, you know what, guys? You need to shut up, all of you. And get out of my house.”

None of them moved, just stared at you in confusion. Jay was the first to speak and say, “Don’t you think it’s time we find out which one of us is her dad?”

“No,” you replied smugly, tilting your chin up so you could meet their gazes. “You don’t get to come here and demand to be a father to my child. You may have helped create her, but you don’t get to walk in now and play the father card. It doesn’t work like that.”

Sunghoon called out your name softly but you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “No. I’ve done well by myself and I didn’t need any of you. I went through everything without you. I’m not gonna need you now that she’s older and my life is better.”

“But you didn’t have to do it all alone,” said Jake, making you glance at him at once. He looked over at Jay and Sunghoon, then back at you. “If you had told me… no, if you had told any of us, I think I speak for all of us when I say we would’ve been there for you. We wouldn’t have let you go through all of that alone.”

You stared at him—at all of them—and for a second, no one said anything. Not even you. Then you pointed toward the door.

“Get out,” you said. “All of you, get out.”

xiii: “What's Better Than One Dad?”

The house was unusually quiet for a weekend. No laughter echoing from the garden, no sound of someone tinkering in the backyard or somewhere around the house. It was just the soft ticking of the old wall clock and Emma’s tiny feet padding into the kitchen, where you were nursing a cold cup of tea you’d forgotten to drink.

She climbed onto the stool across from you, legs swinging, chin resting in her hands. “Where is everybody, Mommy?” she asked.

You smiled, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear. “They’re not here, honey. They must have chores and other things to do today.”

“But they weren’t here yesterday either,” Emma said, pouting as she lay her head on the table. “They said they were taking me out to sea today.”

“Who said that?” you asked softly, brushing her hair with your fingers.

She shrugged. “My dads.”

You blinked, hand pausing. “Your what?”

Emma lifted her head to look at you, eyes bright and serious. “My dads. Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon.”

Your stomach turned. You hadn’t heard those names spoken so casually in the last forty-eight hours—not since you threw them out of your house. You set your cup down. 

“Emma, they’re not your dads,” you said carefully, patting her head. “They’re just friends.”

She tilted her head, confused. “But Auntie Amy and Auntie Lea said one of them is my dad.”

You froze. “They… said that?”

Emma nodded. “They were whispering but I still heard them. I have super ears, mommy. I hear everything.”

“Emma, what did Mommy say about eavesdropping on grown-up conversations?” you asked, trying to keep your tone steady.

She looked sheepish for a second, then brightened again. “But it’s true, right, Mommy?”

You sighed, moving around the counter to crouch in front of her stool. “Emma. Do you… want a dad?”

She shrugged again, legs still kicking back and forth under her seat. “I think so. Everybody has dads.”

You smiled softly, cupping her cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. But having no dad is not so bad. You have me, and Auntie Lea, and Auntie Amy and everyone else in the village who loves you.”

“I know,” she said quickly, then added, “but I still want one. Dads are fun.”

You sat back on your heels, forcing a smile for your daughter. “Are they now?”

She nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling. “They buy ice cream and ribbons. They show you all the cool stuff. And they can carry you…” She raised both arms way above her head. “This high!”

You couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped out. God, she was too much sometimes. “I can carry you that high.”

“No, mommy. You’re not tall,” she giggled as you scooped her into your arms.

You carried her out of the kitchen, but her voice dropped again, more thoughtful now. “Leo’s dad picks him up and spins him like this,” she said, arms stretched like an airplane. “It looks like flying. Uncle Jay did that too. I liked it. It was fun.”

You felt your chest tighten. She wasn’t asking for much—just a little bit of wonder. And here you were, too busy shielding her from the past to even consider the possibility of what a father could mean to her now.

And to be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for her anymore. Or was it for yourself all along?

“Can I have one?” she asked, small voice in your ear. “Just one?”

You looked at her—your bright, curious, heartbreakingly hopeful daughter—and felt your heart break in two. “Do you have a favorite?” you asked, sitting on the couch with her.

Emma thought hard, pressing her finger to her chin. “Not really. Uncle Jake is nice and buys me stuff. Uncle Jay has a cool boat. And Uncle Hoon is strong.”

She sighed, frustration painting her expression and you couldn’t help but laugh. She turned to you with a pout, “I like all of them. You have to pick one for me, Mommy.”

You paused, scrambling for an answer that didn’t exist. Before you could say anything, Lea appeared with a box from her café. “How would you feel about three dads?” she asked, setting the box of cookies on the coffee table and sitting on Emma’s other side.

Emma gasped excitedly. “I can have three dads?” she asked Lea, practically vibrating on the couch.

Lea looked at you with a knowing smile. “Of course. What’s better than one dad?”

She turned back to Emma and winked. “Three dads.”

Emma gasped again, absolutely buzzing in her seat. “Three dads! I want three dads!”

You smiled nervously. “Emma, slow down. You can’t just decide that on your own.”

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

You glanced at Lea, then turned back to your daughter. “Because the dads—uh, the men—have to agree to it too. It’s a big responsibility. You can’t just call someone ‘Dad’ without asking first.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. “But they’ll say yes. They like me.”

Of course they do. It wouldn’t take much to convince those three men, but you had to help Emma manage her expectations. “They do like you,” you admitted, heart softening despite yourself. “But liking you and being ready to be your dad are different things. They don’t live here with us and even if they become your dad, you won’t exactly see them every day.”

Lea chimed in. “But they will come see you as much as they can.”

“That’s okay. I’ll ask them,” she said firmly, arms crossed with a serious pout. “I’ll ask all three.”

Lea let out a laugh. “Well, that should be fun to watch.”

You gave her a look, but there was no real hate in it.

The next morning, just as you were folding laundry in the living room, there was a knock on the door. You hesitated. Emma was still in her pajamas, sitting on the floor playing with seashells. Lea had left earlier to open the café. You weren’t expecting anyone.

You opened the door slowly. Jake was standing there with a bouquet of wildflowers. Jay held a box of pastries from the bakery, and Sunghoon just had that awkward, earnest look on his face that you knew far too well.

“Hi,” Jake said, flashing that disarming smile. “We, uh, Lea said you wanted to see us?”

Jay raised the box. “We brought breakfast. Peace offering. Don’t throw us out yet.”

You stepped aside wordlessly, letting them in. Emma looked up and immediately lit up like the sun. “My dads!”

You shot her a warning look, but the guys all froze. “Oh my, god,” you muttered, facepalming as you turned to hide your face.

“Did she just—?” Jay asked voice breaking so he had to clear his throat.

Jake's hand was on his mouth. “She said dads.”

“She did,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead and shaking your head, still unable to look at them.

Emma ran over and hugged Jake's leg. “You came back!”

Sunghoon crouched down in front of her, eyes soft. “Did you miss us, munchkin?”

She nodded hard. “Mommy said I can have three dads, if you say yes.”

Jay let out a quiet laugh and stepped forward. “Of course, we’ll say yes. You don’t even need to ask, princess.”

“Hold on,” you said quickly, gently tugging Emma away from them. You looked at the three of them—her dads. “First, let’s, uh… Let’s talk about this. Follow me.”

All three looked at you but followed you anyway when you went to the kitchen. Jake told Emma to stay and promised her it wouldn’t take long.

“Three dads?” Jay asked as soon as you were out of earshot. He chuckled, like he couldn’t believe it. “She’s okay with three dads?”

You groaned. “Oh, you have no idea.”

You placed your hands on your hips, stomping your feet as you stared at the three men before you. “Okay. I care about Emma more than anything in this world. More than my own life.”

“Of course—”

You raised a finger at Sunghoon. “Let me talk.”

Sunghoon nodded, stepping back. Jake mimed zipping his lips. You took a deep breath before continuing. “You can check if you want to. I won’t stop you. Or you can do what you said—you can step up. Be her dads. All three of you. I don’t mind, as long as she’s happy.”

“But she’s going to need consistency. She doesn’t need three men floating in and out of her life when it suits them. If you’re serious, you don’t just show up when it’s fun. You show up even when it’s hard. Even when you don’t feel like it.”

Jake nodded. “We know that.”

“I’m not asking you to stay here forever,” you added, more gently this time. “You have lives. Jobs. People waiting for you—Jake, you’re getting married soon.”

“I’m not expecting you to drop everything and move to this island. That would be unfair. And Emma doesn’t need you to be here every day. She just needs to know you’ll be there when it matters. That she can count on you, even from afar. If you can do that, then,” you paused, raised your hands in surrender, and sighed. “Then be her dad—Dads! Whatever you want to call it.”

Sunghoon looked down, nodding slowly. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Jay let out a breath. “Long-distance dad duty. Shouldn’t be so hard.”

Jake simply said, “We’ll make it work. Promise.”

You smiled, genuinely this time.  “Okay,” you said softly, nodding toward the door. “Go on. She’s waiting.”

The three of them turned to leave, and Jay laughed out loud when he spotted Emma peeking from behind the curtains. “Oh no. We’ve got an eavesdropper!” he announced, grinning.

Emma shrieked, bolting from her hiding spot, her giggles echoing through the house as Johnny chased after her. You followed behind, just in time to see her leap into Jake's arms, then reach for Sunghoon hand, then tug at Jay's sleeve, all while talking a mile a minute.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a strange fullness in your chest. You still didn’t know how any of this would work. But maybe it didn’t have to make sense. Maybe love was enough.

xiv: “Only I Can Fix Myself”

The sea stretched wide and sparkling under the Corsican sun, gentle waves lapping against the hull of Jay’s yacht as it cut smoothly through the water. Emma was practically vibrating with excitement, darting from one end of the deck to the other, yelling about dolphins that no one else could see. Jake and Sunghoon were lounging at the back, one lazily flipping through a comic book offered by one of Jay’s crews, the other peeling oranges and throwing slices at Emma, who cackled every time she caught one in her mouth. Jay was at the helm, sunglasses on, wind tugging his hair as he grinned.

You sat near the bow, sunbathing on a sunbed with Lea and a half-empty drink in hand, watching your daughter live a little dream. She had three men completely wrapped around her finger and absolutely no idea how rare that was.

“Amy would’ve loved this,” said Lea, sunglasses perched on her nose. “What do you think she’s doing right now?”

“Drinking Dom on some wealthy investor’s superyacht?” you guessed, grinning.

Lea giggled. “Dressed in something skimpy that’s definitely fit for the yacht but wildly inappropriate for the business transaction she went there for.”

You both giggled, your mind drifting back to sunkissed days on the beach in places you couldn’t even pronounce. Trusting Amy to talk your way into expensive bars where all three of you could charm handsome tourists to buy you drinks. Sneaking into exclusive yacht parties and pretending you belonged there. It all seemed so far away now.

“Wow, we’re old,” Lea sighed. “When was the last time we had fun like we did in college?”

You thought about it. “Probably that summer before we found out I was pregnant with Emma.”

“Right. The summer after college,” she said, then glanced over at the helm where Jay was. “We were in Jay’s boat at the time.”

You nodded, remembering the days. “Yeah, we were.”

Jay had her crew take the day off, so you and Lea had packed food for the trip. At lunch, Jay grilled fish on the little onboard stove. Jake handled the drinks, Sunghoon cut fresh fruit, and Emma supervised them all like a tiny captain. The laughter never died \own. Even you found yourself relaxed, for once—letting your walls down just enough to smile without second-guessing it.

You’d lost count on how many times you had to reapply Emma’s sunscreen because she just kept jumping into the water with Sunghoon. Jay had the yacht dock at a secluded shore, where Jake and Emma spent almost an hour looking for marine life in the shallows and taking pictures of them. The word ‘Dad’ had been echoing all day.

The sun began to dip by the time you made it back to the village. The sky had gone from blue to soft, velvety lilac, and the yacht anchored close to shore for the night. Emma had fallen asleep below deck, wrapped in one of Jay’s warm blankets and snoring into a pillow. Sunghoon, Jake and Lea were still above, playing cards and arguing about the rules of some ridiculous game you’d never heard of.

Jay brought you another drink and asked if you wanted to sit with him up front, where the sea was quiet and the stars had just begun to wink into view. You followed him.

The two of you sat side by side on the padded bench near the front of the yacht, legs stretched out, drinks in hand. The breeze had softened, brushing against your skin like a whisper. Waves lapped gently against the hull. From the back of the boat, you could still hear muffled voices—Lea laughing, Sunghoon protesting something, Jake talking over it—but out here, it felt like you were in a different world.

Jay took a slow sip of his drink, then leaned back, eyes scanning the dark horizon. “Today was nice,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Emma’s probably dreaming of dolphins right now.”

Jay smiled at that. “She’s a great kid.”

You smiled. “She is.” You were both quiet for a moment, just gazing out into the sea and taking in the cool air. Jay broke the silence first. “About the other night. Amy’s party.”

You turned your head slightly but didn’t say anything. You would rather not talk about it, really, but it wouldn’t be so bad to bring it up now. He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t drunk. I know I acted like it, but I wasn’t. I knew what I was doing.”

You hummed, acknowledging him without saying anything. Jay continued, “And I knew what I was saying. I meant it.”

“Meant what, Jay?”

He chuckled under his breath. Not the smug kind, the self-deprecating kind. “I meant it when I said I don’t mind settling down with you.”

Your brows furrowed. Jay glanced at you, more honest than he’d ever been. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve spent years chasing things. Business, money, women, parties, noise. But it’s like I keep coming up empty. Then you wrote to me and it was like a hand was reaching out to me. I thought maybe if I came back, everything would fall into place. I thought maybe you could fix me.”

You stared at the ocean. “You wanted me to fix you?”

“I didn’t think of it that way at first,” he admitted. “But yeah. I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing at first. I told myself it was fate or just some unfinished business. But the truth was I just wanted someone to look at me and see something worth saving. And I thought it could be you.”

Another wave rolled beneath the yacht. You felt the dip and sway of it in your chest. “I want to be someone better,” he said. “You make people better, you know? You make them want to do things right. I’m willing to change. I’d give up the boat, the business, the whole damn playboy act. I’d stay. If it meant a shot at a different life. A better one. With you.”

You turned to face him. “Jay…”

He gave a small smile. “I know. It sounds desperate. And stupid. It probably is.”

You hesitated before speaking. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Jay. But… I don’t think I can do that for you.” You meant it. He came here chasing something, and you weren’t what he needed. Not in the way he thought.

“I’m not what you’re looking for, Jay,” you said gently. “You don’t need a relationship to fix you. You need to find meaning on your own.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I know. I mean, I didn’t, but I know now.” He chuckled. “It was a mistake coming here thinking you could fix me. Only I can fix myself.”

“But,” he added, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I don’t regret coming. I met the most wonderful girl in the world and became her dad. That’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Your breath caught. “Jay…”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m not asking for anything else. You were right to say no. But I still get to be there for her. And that means everything to me.”

You smiled, a little teary now. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened. He wasn’t talking about you anymore. And yet somehow… it felt like the most honest thing he’d ever said. “I’m sorry, Jay.”

“I know,” he replied, his signature smirk appearing on his lips now. He relaxed in his seat, taking a deep breath. “Though I bet you would have wanted to be the one who gets to tie me down, don’t you?”

That made you laugh, genuinely, head lolling back and cackling type of laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to even if I tried.”

Jay shrugged, “Yeah, but you wish you could, don’t you?” he asked, winking.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide how it made you smile. “Fine. I would have considered it an honor to have tied down the menace of a playboy that you are, Park Jongseong.”

Jay leaned back in his seat, that familiar smirk tugging at his mouth, but his eyes were calm now. You mirrored him, your laugh fading into a sigh as you leaned your arms on the railing again, the sea stretching endlessly beneath the moonlight.

It was peaceful. Comfortable, even. Until Jay’s gaze flicked upwards. You didn’t notice at first. But then his smirk widened, and he clicked his tongue. “Lover Boy’s lurking,” he muttered.

You blinked, turned slightly—and there he was. Sunghoon. Leaning against the side rail up the deck, pretending to look out at the horizon but very clearly trying not to stare your way. One hand holding a glass he hadn’t touched in a while. The wind catching his hair and blowing it out of his face to reveal a slight crease on his forehead.

You looked away too quickly. Jay laughed under his breath. “God, you’re so bad at this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said briskly.

Jay raised a brow. “You don’t even realize you’re lying to yourself. That’s the problem.”

You exhaled. “Jay—”

“Okay,” he said, groaning as he stood up. “But if you don’t do the follow your heart thing and say yes to him, you’re an idiot.”

You scoffed indignantly. “Since when were you an expert at following your heart?”

“Since I flew out here after getting a letter out of nowhere,” he replied, grinning smugly. “I followed my heart and it brought me to my little girl. Who, speaking of, probably needs cuddles.”

Jay turned to leave and you called out to him. “What she needs is to be taken back home! In her own bed!”

Jay raised a hand without glancing back. “On it!”

You stood there a moment longer, palms resting on the cool railing, heart beginning to beat somewhere in your throat. And then you tilted your head up. Sunghoon hadn’t moved. He looked right at you, and his gaze made you swallow something in your throat. You gave the smallest nod, and in the next second, he was gone—probably making his way down as fast as he could.

xv: Lover Boy

You hadn’t taken more than a few steps before Sunghoon appeared at the end of the corridor, breath shallow like he’d run down the stairs. His eyes locked with yours, and the hallway spun just a little from the adrenaline thrumming through your chest.

“Hi,” he said, voice low. “I just—I.. You called me over. I didn’t read that wrong, did I?”

You took another step forward, smiling. “No.”

Sunghoon smiled, relief washing over his face as he stepped closer. “Hi,” he began, taking a deep breath. “How are you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “How am I? Seriously?”

“No, I meant…” he paused, chuckling. “The other night, at Amy’s party. We didn’t get to finish talking.”

“Yeah, we didn’t,” you agreed, looking away.

“I meant what I said,” he declared, seemingly holding his breath. “Every word.”

You studied his face. It was written all over him—the years of regret, the ache of what was lost, the unbearable need to be here with you now. Then he reached for you. His fingers brushed your cheek, ever so gently, like you would disintegrate right then and there if he held you too hard. 

“I love you,” he said softly.

That was all it took for your restraints to collapse. You grabbed him by the collar and kissed him—hard, desperately, like it was the only thing that could fill the void in your heart. Sunghoon kissed you back instantly, a low groan slipping from him as he cradled the back of your head, angling you just right like he’d done a hundred times in his dreams.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer until his hips pressed against yours and you could feel every inch of him. Sunghoon pulled back only long enough to breathe, his eyes locked with yours.

“Come with me,” he whispered against your lips. He led you down the corridor with a hand at your back and urgency in his steps. He opened the nearest cabin door and pulled you inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.

The room was dim, swaying gently with the motion of the yacht. But you barely noticed any of that. The second you locked eyes, you shoved him back against the cabin door and kissed him hard, fingers working fast on the buttons of his shirt.  You pressed your palm against his bare chest and exhaled sharply. “I swear to God, if this is a dream—”

“It’s not,” he groaned, pulling your dress over your head in one motion. “It’s not, it’s not.”

You kissed him again, slower this time but deeper, your hands tangling in his hair. He held you firmly by the waist, then lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his hips as he walked you to the bed.

You landed with a soft thud on the mattress, your bodies still tangled, his lips dragging down your jaw, to your neck. You gasped when he nipped at your skin, clawing at his back.

It was euphoric, the urgency and reverence—a passionate middle ground where every movement was fueled by something you’d long yearned for. His hands roamed your body like he couldn’t touch enough, couldn’t believe you were real and here and his again. All while you arched under him, pulling him closer, hands mapping the curves of his back, the dip of his waist, every familiar part of him you had tried to forget.

His mouth moved over your chest, your collarbones, your stomach. His hand found the space between your legs, cupping and pressing firmly before slipping into the thin fabric of your underwear. You held your breath—waiting for that familiar touch, anticipating.

But Sunghoon paused, looking into your eyes. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, though you could see the desperation in his expression—as if begging you not to.

“Don’t you dare.”

He smirked and dipped his head almost immediately, tugging your panties off before his lips met your cunt. You arched off the bed, biting your lip hard, your hand gripping the sheets while the other tangled in his hair.

He was slow at first, testing at first, teasing out every sound you could make. Then he went harder, sucked deeper, and both of your hands clutched his hair, hips bucking into his mouth as you chased more of that delightful sensation. He growled something against your skin and climbed back up to kiss you, mouths hot and hungry and impatient.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, grinning. “But I need you. Right now,” he said, kissing you before you could say anything.

You barely noticed anything, too lost in the heat of the moment and the feeling of his lips in yours. You felt him nudge at your entrance only for a second before he slid in with one smooth, desperate motion. You gasped into his mouth, legs locking around him, and he cursed softly against your shoulder. It felt too much and not enough—all at once. 

“You feel—fuck,” he groaned into your ear, holding you tighter. “God, I missed you.”

“Hoon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Hoon, I missed you too.”

He moved deep and slow at first, soaking in every sound you made, every desperate plea whispered into his ear. But it didn’t take long for the rhythm to quicken, hips snapping into yours with a force that made the headboard thud lightly against the wall.

You closed your eyes and bit down on your lip to keep from crying out too loud—Jay’s yacht might be big, but not that big—and  Sunghoon smiled at your expression.

He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Open your eyes, baby,” he whispered, kissing your temple again. “Look at me.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the years melted away. It was just him. Just you. And this. Sunghoon kissed you again and his lips tasted like longing, like something once lost and finally found again. He moved inside you slowly, deeply, dragging every second out like he wanted it carved into memory.

Your hips rose to meet his, greedy for more, and he groaned as he sank deeper. “Fuck,” he whispered, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “You feel the same. No—better.”

He moved faster now, each thrust rocking through you in waves. The headboard tapped lightly against the wall, your hand flailing briefly before gripping the pillow to muffle your sounds. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he murmured, hand sliding up your thigh to pull your leg higher around his waist.

His mouth found your breast, tongue swirling over your nipple until you arched into him, crying out softly. He kissed down your sternum and back up to your mouth, whispering, “I never stopped missing you.”

You kissed him again, open-mouthed, desperate. His hand gripped your hip, guiding your rhythm until you matched him thrust for thrust. Every inch of your skin was on fire, every nerve in your body dancing with every drag and press and pull of his body.

When he angled his hips just right, you gasped, back arching, hands flying to his shoulders. “Right there,” you whimpered.

Sunghoon growled, deep in his chest. “Yeah? You gonna come for me, baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your body trembling beneath him. He watched you fall apart, eyes dark and locked on your face, his own breathing sharp and erratic. The climax rushed through you, long and loud and blinding. You buried your face in his neck, biting down on his shoulder to muffle your moan as he pushed deeper, losing himself to the heat and tightness of you.

With a few more hard, ragged thrusts, he followed, spilling into you with a grunt and a trembling curse of your name. His body froze, collapsing into you as you both chased your breath.

Silence. Just the sound of your breaths. Tangled limbs. Sweat and warmth and that aching fullness in your chest. Neither of you moved right away. And he held you, lips pressed to your shoulder, his thumb brushing along your jaw.

Softly, you said, “Say it again.”

Sunghoon hummed, lifting his head to look at you. “Say what again?”

You shifted under him, and he moved to lay beside you on the bed, propping his head on his hand. He watched you fondly, smiling.  “What you told me earlier,” you replied, turning on your side too.

Sunghoon let out a relieved breath, reaching to cup your cheek. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I love you then, and I love you now.”

“Wow.” You chuckled, heat rising to your cheeks, making you look away sheepishly. “That’s four times.”

“I love you,” he repeated, your name rolling beautifully on his tongue.

“Five,” you muttered, exhaling. “Okay. Enough. I get it.”

“It’s true,” he said, like he needed to convince you.

You took a deep breath and met his gaze again. This time, you were wearing a stern expression. “And if it is? Who’s to say you wouldn’t leave me again? You said you’re married, didn’t you?”

“No,” Sunghoon said quickly. “I mean—yes, I was. But—”

You gasped and sat up in complete shock. “I just slept with a married man,” you blurted, the fact suddenly dawning on you.

“No. That’s not—” Sunghoon chuckled, sitting up too and pulling you into a hug, then planting a soft kiss on your lips. “That’s not what happened.”

You shook your head and were about to say anything but he shushed you. “I was married, but only for a year. We’ve been divorced for five.”

“Oh,” you muttered, nodding and feeling a wash of relief. “Okay. Good. That’s… That’s very good.”

His hold tightened around you, and you hugged him back, melting into his warmth. You stayed like that for a while, just basking in the aftermath.

“So?” he prompted after a few moments of silence. “What now?”

“Now?” you paused, too shy to say it out loud. “Now you stay.”

Sunghoon lifted your chin so you’d meet his gaze. “I will.”

He smiled, genuinely this time, with more relief and confidence. “I will, love. See, you’re gonna need someone to boss you around this island.”

You scoffed, though your heart was full. “If my memory served me well, I think I made it clear to you that I don’t need a man bossing me around my own property.”

“Yeah, you made it very clear indeed, but,” he replied, pausing to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Wouldn’t you want to be dependent on someone from time to time? From what I can see, our dream hotel still needs a lot of work.”

Our dream hotel. The words echoed beautifully in your ears.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “And you’re gonna lend me your expertise for free? No architect fee?”

“All I ask for is a room, my love,” he grinned, kissing the side of your head. “Preferably yours. I like sharing with you.”

You nudged his shoulder with a smile, cheeks flushed. “You’re asking for a lot, Mr. Park.”

“Oh, I’ll give a lot,” he murmured. “I’ll give you everything.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, and then quietly, you said, “Okay. I guess we can share a room.”

Sunghoon smiled, watching you with a slight crease on his forehead, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard it right. But you didn’t repeat yourself. You just laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

You didn’t make it back to the main deck. Instead, you stayed in that guest cabin, where the night continued with soft sighs, ragged breaths, and tangled limbs. You didn’t stop at once. Or twice. You lost track somewhere in between kisses and confessions, in the way he said your name like a prayer, in the way you held on to him like he was home.

And by the time sleep caught up to you, your body sore and your heart full, you were curled against his chest with the sound of the sea lulling you into the deepest peace you’d known in years.

xvi: All's Well That Ends Well

The door creaked open, sunlight streaming in just enough to make you wince. You stepped out first, hair still damp from a rushed shower. Sunghoon followed, looking fresh but not fooling anyone—his hand brushing the small of your back as the two of you made your way up to the deck.

The first thing you heard was a gasp. A loud, ridiculous, over-the-top gasp from Lea, who sat dramatically sprawled on a lounge chair. Jay nearly choked on his juice. Even Jake was trying not to laugh, hiding behind a magazine she wasn’t reading. Emma, bless her, was too busy coloring beside Jake to notice.

“Really, guys?” Jay deadpanned. “In my boat? Right after breaking my heart too?”

You raised an eyebrow, brushing past him with a smirk. “Your suite is amazing, Jay.”

Jay gasped again, clutching his chest. “In my suite?!”

“Yes, where else?” you lied shamelessly, taking a seat and reaching for the coffee pot. “And your dimmers are cool.”

Sunghoon, behind you, was trying so hard not to laugh. Jay looked personally victimized. “You absolute heathens,” he declared, hand flying to his mouth for added effect. “I’m gonna throw up.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Even Sunghoon.

And as you sipped your coffee, Sunghoon sitting close, your daughter now leaning against your arm with her sketchpad, and the rest of your chaotic, unexpected little family chatting around you, you could feel warmth blooming in your chest.

The summer was over, and something better had begun.

[fin]

[ikeuwoniee]

dear reader... | 02z (18+)

You came seeking permanence in a place known for its impermanence.  Instead, three men showed you what one unforgettable summer can teach about love, adventure, and letting go.

Genre: destination au, strangers-to-lovers, smut Pairing: ENHYPEN Jake/Sunghoon/Jay x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) MDNI, Notes: 20k words. I KNOW, WHY IS IT SO LONG? Guys, it's three men. 15k words is not gonna cover it all, lmao. Loosely based on the 2018 movie, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again!. I was rewatching the movie (for the 9868th time) and thought it would make a great fic because it's messy and dramatic, you know what I'm saying? LMAO. I hope you like this! Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor claim they would ever in real life the way they were portrayed in this fic. If you see the same exact fic in a different blog, for NCT, that is me. I did not plagiarize myself, otherwise, lmk.

Enjoy~

Paris, 2007

At a small restaurant tucked into a corner in Paris, you sat across from a guy who hadn’t stopped talking since the wine arrived. His name was Jake. You’d met him earlier that afternoon at the hotel. Or more accurately, you’d bumped into him just as he was coming back from lunch, with his paper cup of cold coffee spilling all over your shirt.

He’d looked horrified. In accented English, he started rapid-firing: “Oh god, I’m so sorry—I didn’t see you—are you okay? Did it burn? No, wait, it’s iced. Still—fuck—hang on—”

You were still blinking the splash out of your eye when he lunged forward with a bunch of napkins, dabbing at your sleeve in a panic. That only led to a series of increasingly awkward brushes and even more frantic apologies. At one point, his hand grazed your left boob and he practically launched himself backward.

“Shit—I wasn’t trying to grope you, I swear! I’m not a strange man!”

You were flustered and maybe a little annoyed. But the whole thing was so ridiculous that you just started laughing. Jake, still a little red in the face, had let out a breathy, nervous chuckle of his own. For a few seconds, he just watched you laugh with a slight crease on his forehead and a confused but curious smile on his lips.

You’d eventually stopped laughing and started waving your hand dismissively. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It was just… oh my god,” you trailed off, looking away so you don’t laugh again.

“I know this is probably the worst possible timing but—would you, um—” He paused, cleared his throat, and in one breath and what you now realized was an Australian accent, blurted, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

And now here you were. He was still rambling.

“It’s just been a mess since I got here. First, the hotel mixed up my reservation, then I couldn’t figure out the train system, and don’t even get me started on the guy at the station who yelled at me in French—I think it was French. I don’t know. I really thought this trip would be like… I don’t know, healing or something?”

He paused only to take a sip of wine, then set the glass down with a sigh.

“I’m not even the spontaneous type, you know? I plan everything. But I thought, hey, maybe I’ll go off the grid for once. Have my little adventure. And so far, it’s just been a lot of me getting lost and getting sworn at in French.”

“They were probably just saying ‘hi,’” you offered, shrugging.

“Yeah, maybe. But I probably should’ve just stayed home,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Played with my dog, or something.”

You rested your chin on your hand, half a smile tugging at your lips as you watched him go on. He talked a lot about himself, but not in a way that he was trying to impress you. He was just… nervous. A little frantic, even. But there was something about the way he talked earnestly and a bit self-deprecatingly that made you want to lean in and listen. It was kind of cute.

He was kind of cute.

Jake glanced up mid-sentence. “Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I don’t usually talk too much, but I can’t help it. You’re just so…” he trailed off and sighed. “Is it boring? Am I boring you?” he added, looking a little apologetic.

You shook your head. “Not at all. Please, I like listening.”

He smiled, relieved, and you found yourself smiling back.

Two days ago, you’d been somewhere else entirely. Standing at the airport with your two best friends, both trying not to cry, both saying you were being dramatic, that you were running away. Maybe you were. But you liked to think of it as ‘starting over’ instead.

The moment your graduation cap hit the floor of your shared apartment, you knew your youth was over, and that perfect, cookie-cutter life waiting back home would catch up to you. You didn’t want that. So you packed your bags and chose your own path.

Corsica. An island off the coast of France, where you could be whoever you wanted and do whatever you wanted.

You hadn’t made it to Corsica yet. You hadn’t even figured out how to get there. But you weren’t in a hurry. So for now, you wandered Paris. And somehow, you’d ended up here—with a very cute stranger who couldn’t stop talking.

After dinner, you ended up walking along the Seine and Jake had stopped talking.  The silence was a little startling, like someone had hit pause on a very fast, very chaotic radio broadcast. But it wasn’t awkward. He kept close but not too close, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly against the wind.

The city lights reflected on the river, making it glimmer as you basked in the quiet and the beauty around you. Paris looked like something out of a movie, and you found yourself slowing your steps just to take it all in.

“Paris is kind of magical,” you said, just to say something.

Jake nodded slowly, then said, “It’d be a lot more magical if the people were a little nicer.”

You laughed. “Still mad about that guy at the train station?”

“He called me a donkey.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Un âne,” he said, in a terrible accent, pulling out a small dictionary from his coat pocket. “I looked it up later.”

You laughed harder, and he gave a self-pitying sigh that only made it worse. “I don’t even know what I did. I think I just stood too close to him.”

You kept walking, your steps in sync without meaning to.  It seemed like Jake had finally gotten comfortable around you. He’d stopped yapping and the nervous crease on his forehead had disappeared at some point. He asked where you were from, how long you were traveling, what made you pick Paris. You answered casually, carefully. Bits and pieces. Enough to keep the conversation going without opening up too much.

But it was a good conversation, and a good walk. You enjoyed talking to him and hearing his thoughts. And from the way he looked at you when you talked, it seemed like he enjoyed it too.

When you finally made it back to the hotel, Jake lingered with you in the lobby, fidgeting with the room key in his hand. He was getting nervous again, you could tell by the way his forehead was creased, and how he couldn’t look you in the eyes.

“What?” you prompted.

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “Hey, um,” he said, voice suddenly a little hoarse, “do you… wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Are you gonna spill another drink on me?”

“No,” he said quickly. Then added, “Not on purpose.”

You bit back a smile.

“I just—” he exhaled, looking a little too earnest, “Meeting you was kind of the only good accident I’ve had this whole trip. So, if you don’t have plans, how about spending the day with me?”

That sold it. You smiled and said, “I would love to, Jake.”

He looked relieved, grinning at the carpet before finally meeting your eyes again.

You didn’t bother setting an alarm. When you wandered downstairs the next morning, Jake was already waiting in the lobby, sipping a cappuccino and tapping his foot like he wasn’t sure whether he was early or late.

His eyes lit up when he saw you. “Hey,” he said, standing up a little too fast. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

You raised a brow. “I said I will.”

“Yeah, I know, but sometimes people say yes and don’t mean it. And I’ve been ghosted before. Not that I thought you would. Just—anyway. Hi.”

You laughed and said hi back.

“You look good today,” he said, smiling toothily. “And yesterday too. I’m sure you look good every day.”

“Dude, stop,” you chuckled, already making a beeline for the exit. “Let’s just go.”

“Of course! Yeah!”

The plan, if there was one, was to wing it. You both agreed on no maps and no real agenda. Jake suggested museum-hopping, and it sounded good enough. He brought a little foldable tourist map “just in case,” which you teased him for.

You wandered through halls of oil paintings and marble statues, whispering observations like you were museum critics. Jake tried to guess what every sculpture was about—usually something tragic or wildly inappropriate. He made you laugh loud enough to earn a few shushes from other people.

“‘Femme Étendue avec un Chien.’ Sounds like a thriller.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a woman napping with her dog.”

“Still. Could be a thriller. The dog murdering its master kind of thriller.”

You got shushed by a woman in a long wool coat. Jake mimed zipping his lips but started talking again five seconds later.

After that, you ended up in Montmartre, where artists lined the cobbled square, painting everything from landscapes to caricatures. Jake insisted you both get one drawn together by a grumpy man with yellow-tinted glasses who didn’t say a word the entire time. When he finally flipped the sketch around, Jake let out a strangled noise.

“Is that my nose? I look like a pelican.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “I kind of love it.”

While you were there, a man tried to sell you a tiny Eiffel Tower keychain for twenty euros and Jake got so flustered trying to say ‘non merci’ that you ended up dragging him away before he accidentally bought three.

You shared a crepe from a street vendor and walked into luxury boutiques, the kind where everything smelled expensive and the saleswomen looked allergic to budget travelers. You ran your fingers along a buttery-soft leather purse with no visible price tag.

Jake hovered behind you, blinking at the rows of gleaming handbags.

“How much do you think this is?” you asked, holding up a small purse.

“Mm… two hundred?”

You tilted the bag to find the tag. “Try two thousand.”

Jake recoiled like it burned him. “Does it read your mind? What are we paying for?”

“The aesthetic, obviously,” you said, striking a mock-model pose.

In another shop, you pointed at a pair of heels that looked like crystal. Jake pointed at a maroon scarf and said, “You’d look good in this.”

You scoffed. “If I can afford it.”

Jake tilted his head as he searched for the price tag. “Oh, I think this is the only thing we can afford from here.”

You hummed, narrowing your eyes like you were actually considering it. “Exactly how many crepes can we buy for one of those?” 

He shrugged. “Twenty, give or take?”

“Yeah, nope.”

“Big nope,” he agreed, carefully putting the box back on the shelf.

By late afternoon, your feet were starting to ache. You tried to hide it, but Jake noticed.

“I know you’re tired, but we have one more stop. We’re gonna need to take a train, but I promise it’s worth it.”

You grimaced, and for a second, Jake looked like he was about to give up, but he shook his head and put on a determined face. “You can’t come to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower.”

That made you nod. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.”

He took you to the Eiffel Tower. It wasn’t part of the plan—you didn’t have one, but you weren’t expecting it, not really. You’d caught glimpses of it during the day, rising above the city like a paper cutout, but standing under it at dusk felt different.

It glowed. That was the only word for it. Golden lights stretched up into the sky, and there was this hush, like the whole city had quieted just for a moment to let you take it all in.

You ended up on the lawn across the street from the Eiffel Tower, eating sandwiches from a shop you passed on the way there. The sky was turning lilac. You chewed slowly, taking it all in—lights blinking, the faint sound of a violin from somewhere down the street, the grass slightly damp beneath your coat.

“I used to think I’d work for a big hotel chain,” you said after a while. “You know, like… the Four Seasons or The Ritz.”

Jake turned his head to look at you.

“But later on, I decided I wanted one of my own,” you went on. “A little hotel. Cozy and nice. Something that feels like home for people who are far away from theirs.”

Jake hummed thoughtfully, swallowing a bite before saying, “I’d stay there.”

You turned to him. “You would?”

He nodded. “But only if there’s room service. And robes. I’m very fancy.”

You snorted. “We’re eating 2 euro sandwiches in probably the most expensive city in the world.”

“Only for now,” he replied proudly. “We’d both be doing much better and earning much more by the time you’ve built that hotel.”

You didn’t say anything to that. You just smiled at your sandwich and took another bite.

In your dimly lit hotel room, you sat on the edge of your bed, laughing at something Jake had said. You were leaning your head against the four-poster as you watched Jake in his spot on the carpeted floor, fumbling with the wine bottle and the paper cup.

He’d brought it out casually in the elevator, half-joking that he’d bought it on his first day here to take back home, but he was willing to share it with you. One thing led to another, and now here you were, drinking warm Bordeaux out of paper cups and toasting to the kind of day that felt too good to leave unfinished.

Jake finally managed to pour without spilling and handed you your paper cup.

“I wish this place at least had room service,” he sighed, shaking his head at the cup.

“You should’ve gone to a bigger, more posh hotel then,” you teased before taking a sip.

It was fruity, a little warm, and probably not very good, but in that moment, it felt perfect enough.

You talked less now. The day had wrung most of it out of you. Jake had leaned back against the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him, his head tilted toward the ceiling as he listened. He was just there—warm and a little flushed, wine-stained cup cradled in one hand.

He let out a contented sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever walked this much in one day.”

You snorted. “You say that like you didn’t make me climb half of Montmartre.”

Jake gave you an indignant look. “I did make you climb, but it was me who almost died trying to keep up with you.”

“You’re such a baby,” you laughed, nudging his knee with your foot. He caught it in his palm.

You looked down, and so did he. Neither of you said anything.

Then his hand slid up, fingers wrapping loosely around your ankle—carefully, almost cautiously. You watched the way he tilted his head to meet your eyes, searching, communicating something you could understand clearly, oddly enough.

You could say it was the alcohol, willing you into something you usually wouldn’t do sober. But you knew that would be a lie. You weren’t drunk, not even tipsy. You knew what you were doing when you gave him the same look he was giving you.

Your heart picked up as Jake’s hand traveled up your leg, pausing at your knee. He leaned in, soft and slow, and planted a kiss on your skin.

You didn’t say anything. And to him, your silence—and the way you were looking at him—was encouragement enough to keep going.

He kissed the side of your knee again, a little firmer this time. When you still didn’t stop him, he shifted closer. His hand slid up your leg, pausing just above your knee. 

“Tell me if this is—if I’m reading this wrong,” he said softly, his voice lower than before but you could hear he was a little nervous.

“You’re not,” you said softly, offering a shy smile.

Jake gave a small, almost bashful smile, like he was relieved but still a little uncertain. Then he leaned in, placing a hand beside your hip as he kissed you. He missed your mouth the first time, catching the edge of your lip.

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.

You laughed a little against his mouth. “It’s fine. Come here.”

That helped. He kissed you again, properly this time, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other propped him up on the bed. Still, even as it deepened, he wasn’t rushing. You could feel how careful he was, like he didn’t want to startle you or like he wasn’t sure this was really happening.

When you tugged his shirt up, he hesitated for a second before helping you take it off, eyes darting to yours like he was checking again.

“You sure?” he asked in a whisper.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Just… kind of feels unreal.”

That made your chest ache in a good way. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his cheek, and said, “It’s real.”

He let out a breath, nodding as he touched your waist, thumbs brushing your skin like he wanted to be gentle even now. His shyness didn’t last long once you pulled him close again, his confidence creeping in the moment he saw you responding with your hands on him, and your breath hitching under his touch.

Jake took care of the rest, his hands sliding under your top with more certainty now. His palms were warm, fingertips grazing up your sides, over your ribs, until you raised your arms and let him pull the fabric over your head. His gaze flickered downward, then back up again, clearly trying not to stare but staring anyway.

You felt beautiful under his gaze, the kind of beautiful that didn’t come from lighting or lingerie or careful timing, just the way he looked at you. Like he wanted all of you, and genuinely so.

“You’re—” he started, then bit his lip, trying to compose himself. “You’re beautiful.”

You reached for him, pulling him in until your lips met again, slower this time, deeper. When you moved further up onto the bed, Jake followed, crawling up between your legs as you tugged at the waistband of his jeans. He was quiet but not passive. His hands were all over you now, exploring, touching, squeezing with a gentle firmness that made your heart skip.

As he pulled your bottoms down and tossed them aside, his gaze trailed over every inch of bare skin with eyes of adoration and amazement. He hesitated just long enough for you to notice. His fingers were brushing the top of your thigh, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

You reached for him instead, undoing the button of his jeans with more confidence than you felt. “Jake,” you prompted.

“Yeah,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours. “Yeah, I’m here.”

He kissed you again, one hand traveling down from your boob to your belly, and futher down to cup your sex. He worked you up for a few moments, fingers circling your clit clumsily but with just enough pressure to make you moan.

And when he finally decided to push into you, he did it painfully slow, still being cautious. He held still, breathing hard, his hand sliding under your thigh to pull you closer. His other hand gripped the sheet near your head like he needed something to hold on to. 

You let out a soft gasp, your back arching as you adjusted around him, and he kissed your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he could reach.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded again. “Yeah. You can move.”

He obliged and moved slowly at first, deeply, the kind of rhythm that made your toes curl.  He kept it up until the tension coiled tight in both your bodies, until his restraint began to slip. The room filled with breathy, lewd sounds—your moans, his whispered curse when you clenched around him, the muffled thump of the headboard as his thrusts grew more desperate.

You bit your lip, eyes shut tight as you tried not to be too loud. The hotel was cheap, and the walls were unforgivingly thin.

“Jake, please,” you whimpered, mouth parting but barely making a sound, even as he drove you to the edge.

“Please what?” he asked softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek and kissing your forehead.

You gripped his arms tighter, holding his gaze. “Harder.”

He didn’t hesitate this time. With a low grunt, he adjusted his grip on your hips and drove into you harder, the rhythm picking up, deeper now, less cautious. Your head tipped back against the pillows, a sharp moan slipping out before you could stop it. Jake buried his face in your neck to muffle his own.

Each thrust made the headboard knock just slightly louder. You barely registered it anymore. All you could think about was the heat of his skin, the stretch of him inside you, and the desperation in the way he held you like he couldn’t get close enough.

“God, you feel so—” He cut himself off with a breathy groan, hands sliding up your sides. “You okay?”

You couldn’t answer with words. You just nodded frantically and wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, drawing him in deeper. He gasped, nearly losing his rhythm.

Your hand tangled in his hair as your other clawed at his back, trying to hold yourself together as he kept hitting just the right spot. The coil in your belly wound tight. You were close. His movements turned erratic, one hand slipping down to your clit, clumsily rubbing in tight circles until your body seized around him.

Your orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over every nerve. You clung to him, gasping out his name, your entire body tensing, shaking, unraveling.

Jake didn’t last much longer. The second your walls clenched around him, he let out a strangled groan, buried as deep as he could go, and spilled into you. His whole body trembled with it, the hand near your head fisting the sheet like he needed to anchor himself to something.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you said anything and it was just the sound of your breathing, oddly too loud in the quiet room.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then your cheek. And finally, your lips—slow and breathless and almost shy again.

Then, quietly, Jake asked, “Did you like it?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was messy, and he looked so earnest that your heart squeezed a little.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I really did.”

He let out a relieved breath, then grinned bashfully, like he couldn’t quite believe this had happened.

“Good,” he said, tucking his face into the crook of your neck again. “’Cause I really liked it too.”

You chuckled. “You did well.”

He let out a soft laugh, forehead pressed to yours. “I think I just saw stars.”

He fell on the space beside you, staring at the ceiling as you both caught your breath. You curled up beside him, nuzzling against his chest that was still damp with sweat. You wanted to say something, but sleep was already catching up to you.

Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then he let out a deep, contented breath.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You blinked, suddenly wide awake. You shifted to look at him, but his breathing was already slowing, his features softening.

He was fast asleep before you could say anything.

The wind blew at you as soon as you stepped off the bus, salty and cool and strong enough to tug at your sun hat. You held it in place and squinted up at the sky. It was bright and beautiful, the vivid blue hue decorated with scattered clouds.

You adjusted the handle of your carrier and followed the other passengers toward the ferry terminal. A seagull screamed overhead. Someone lit a cigarette beside you. Around you, people were chattering in what you could make out was French and some Italian. It was much noisier here than it was in Paris. Less posh and polished, more human and real.

The morning felt raw, a little too bright after a night like that. But you didn’t look back.  Corsica was next. That was the plan. That had always been the plan.

The port was small—just one wooden pier stretching out into the water, a few moored boats bobbing gently with the current. It was a far cry from Paris, or even the bus station you’d left this morning. Everything here moved slower, like time itself had decided not to keep up.

You walked up to the small booth, eyes darting to the analog clock above the door. 17:10.

Last Departure - 17:00Next Departure - Tomorrow, 7:10

“No, no, no,” you muttered, quickening your pace. 

You shoved past a wobbly gate that probably wasn’t meant to be opened, lugging your bag like it was a boulder. “Wait!” you screamed at the ferry, your voice cracking as you sprinted along the creaky wooden pier.

“Wait for me!” you shouted, flailing your arms like a maniac.

The ferry let out a long, mournful horn and started to pull away, the wake rippling through the still water.

“Turn back!” you shrieked, weaving past a stack of plastic crates and an unimpressed fisherman. “Turn back! Damn it!”

You reached the end of the pier, panting, face red, chest burning. The ferry was already further on the horizon.

“Seriously?!” you yelled, flailing your hat in the air. “You couldn’t wait five more minutes?!”

You dropped your suitcase with a thud and bent over your knees, catching your breath. “Merde.”

“Missed your boat?” said a man from behind you.

You straightened, whipping around with a glare reserved for backhanded comments and people who cut in lines. “Wow, what gave it away?” you deadpanned. “The shouting or the visible despair?”

The man smiled smugly. His dark hair was pushed back neatly, his button-down was crisp and linen, and on his nose sat a pair of sunglasses you could swear you’d seen on display at Prada yesterday. Definitely not a local. And definitely not someone who’d taken three buses in the past ten hours.

“Both?” he said, tilting his head. “That’s too bad. The next ferry isn’t until tomorrow.”

You sighed, all the fight draining from your body at once. “Yeah. I can read.”

He clicked his tongue, stepping closer to the edge of the dock beside you. “Wouldn’t it be nice,” he said, “if someone had a boat that could take you to the island?”

You let out a dry laugh. “It sure is. But it’s a little early to start hallucinating.”

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking over you with mild amusement.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked past you, toward a gleaming white yacht docked not ten feet away.

You blinked.

He stepped onto the deck like he’d done it a hundred times before, then turned back to look at you with an infuriatingly pleasant smile. You lifted your chin, brushed your hair out of your face, and stepped forward.

“Looks like someone did have a boat that could take me to the island,” you said, flashing your best smile. “If only the owner was nice enough.”

He glanced at the yacht behind him, then back at you. “Oh, this isn’t mine. I just stand here pretending it is so women will fall for me.”

You snorted. “Gross.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “But it works.”

You scoffed, laughing under your breath as you waved him off and turned away. “Right. Bye, then.”

“I’m kidding,” he called out, still laughing. “Come aboard. My boat’s heading that way too, and I’ve got spare rooms.”

Your feet moved before your brain could offer a single warning, climbing onto the docked yacht without hesitation. No passport check, no credentials, no double-take at the stranger with movie-star hair and designer sunglasses. Just vibes. Your mother would’ve had a stroke.

Or, more likely, she would’ve shaken her head and muttered something about how you always liked to fuck around and find out.

The man turned just in time to help you onto the deck, his hand warm around yours. “I’m Jay, by the way.”

You told him your name and he chuckled. “Next time, you might wanna do a double-take and get to know people before getting into their boat,” he said. 

You laughed at that, though you agree he was right. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

You glanced around the yacht. Sleek, white, and clean enough to eat off of the floor. A compact galley gleamed to the left, and a staircase led to what you assumed were the sleeping quarters.

“This is Captain Luc,” Jay said, nodding to a man in a white polo who gave you a quick salute before going back to his maps. “That’s Sofia, our cook. Pierre and Manu help out with navigation and maintenance. Don’t worry, they’re all very well-paid and only mildly resent me.”

Sofia gave you a wink as she passed with a basket of fruit, and Manu barely looked up from where he was scrubbing something on the deck.

“Nice setup,” you said, setting your suitcase down with a thunk that felt very out of place on such pristine floors.

Jay smiled. “It’s not huge, but it gets the job done.”

“That’s what they all say,” you quipped, giggling.

His grin widened. “I like you already.” He turned and motioned for you to follow him below deck. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

You followed him down a narrow staircase and into a hallway of sleek wood and soft lighting. He opened a door to a small but clean room with a porthole view and a surprisingly fluffy-looking bed.

“This one’s cozy,” he said. Then, casually added, “Mine’s a bit nicer though. Bigger bed. Better sheets. Better lighting, if that matters.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Bet the women loved the lighting in your room.”

Jay leaned on the doorframe, still grinning. “They loved me more, but yeah, the lighting did suit their taste too.”

“Great.” You stepped into the room, tossed your bag onto the bed, and gave him a sweet smile. “I like dim rooms like this one better.”

But Jay wasn’t backing down yet. “You’d be surprised how effective dimmers can be.”

You gave him your fakest smile and nodded to the door. “Thanks for accommodating me. Please close the door on your way out.”

Jay chuckled and pushed off the doorframe. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be dimming the lights in advance.”

He disappeared down the hall, leaving the scent of some expensive cologne lingering behind him.

You looked around the room again, shook your head, and flopped back onto the bed.

The sun had set by the time you made it up to the deck. The sky was starry and cold, and the sea was calm, stretching endlessly in all directions. Dinner had been set on a small table with linen napkins, wine glasses, and even candles.

Jay looked up from the magazine he was reading, straightening up when he saw you walking in. “Good evening. How was your nap?” he asked, motioning to the seat across from him.

“Refreshing,” you replied, eyeing the setup. “First, you tried to seduce me with good lighting. Now it’s sea bass?”

He laughed. “Can’t a guy just offer dinner without an ulterior motive?”

You sat. “Sure, he can. But to me, you’re a walking ulterior motive.”

“Please,” he chuckled. “I just like to make my guests feel special.”

“How many guests have there been?”

Jay poured you a glass of wine and handed it over. “Too many. You’re my favorite, though.”

You smirked as Sofia walked over to fill your glass with wine. “You’re really going for it, huh?”

“Just enough to keep you entertained,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his wine. “If I go too hard, you’ll run. If I don’t try, I’m wasting this view.”

“You mean me or the sea?”

He tilted his glass toward you. “Both. Though you’re slightly more distracting.”

Dinner was actually good. The fish was cooked perfectly, and the wine was expensive and tasted like it. Every so often, a crew member drifted in and out, clearing plates or topping off wine like it was just any ordinary day. Jay, for his part, didn’t stop flirting for more than thirty seconds at a time.

“So where exactly were you running to before you missed the ferry?” he asked, leaning in like he actually wanted to hear the answer.

“Some small village in Corsica,” you said, twirling your fork. 

“Vacation?”

You shrugged. “Immigration? I’m moving there.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Why?”

“Identity crisis?” you offered with a chuckle. “Nothing really. Just trying to figure things out. Make something for myself.”

“Ah,” he said, sipping his wine. “My favorite kind of woman.”

“I’m sure you say that about every kind of woman.”

“Not to every kind,” he replied, smirking. “Just the ones I like.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help chuckling.

“Anyway,” he said after a beat, cutting into his food, “I may not look like it, but I’m kind of figuring things out too. So… I get it.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.”

“I feel like we should toast to that,” he said, lifting his glass. “To starting over and making something of ourselves.”

You clinked yours gently against his. “To strange men and questionable decisions.”

After dinner, the two of you drifted toward the front of the yacht. You leaned against the rail, watching the faint outline of the horizon and the stars dotting the night sky.

Jay stood beside you, close but not touching. His wine glass dangled loosely in his fingers. “Not a bad way to spend a missed ferry, huh?” he said.

You hummed. “Could’ve been worse. I could’ve ended up on a fishing boat with no wine.”

“Or worse,” he said, “with someone boring.”

You glanced at him. “Fine. I’ll concede and say you’re not that boring.”

Jay smirked, eyes on the sea. “I can already imagine how broken my heart would be once you leave this boat tomorrow.”

You snorted. “Did that line ever work for you? Don’t tell me it did, because I know it didn’t.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you’d be surprised. It’s my best line.”

“No, it’s not,” you replied, shaking your head and taking a sip from your glass. 

“It is, though,” Jay insisted, bright grin gleaming under the light. “Although, I can see that it doesn’t work on you, and that’s just making me fall in love with you even more.”

“Stop,” you chided softly, nudging his arm with your elbow. “I won’t have sex with you.”

“Why not?”

You looked over at him, smirking. “We literally only just met.”

He bumped you back with a grin “And you’re not that kind of girl?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, then paused. “Usually,” you added, looking away.

Jay chuckled heartily, taking one step away. “Fine. But it is true that I’m falling in love with you.”

“Yeah,” you sniggered, rolling your eyes. “I'm getting that a lot these days.”

The next day arrived with the soft rock of the yacht and sunlight pouring through the porthole window. You stirred awake at noon, disoriented for a second before remembering the events of the day before—missed ferry, expensive yacht, handsome stranger with very white teeth.

By the time you made it to the deck, the coastline of Corsica was already coming into view. It was closer now and you had specifically pointed out a tiny village by the coast when the captain asked where you wanted to be delivered to.

The village was small, charming in that rustic way travel blogs loved to romanticize—whitewashed walls, terracotta roofs, little boats bobbing in a quiet harbor. It looked peaceful and safe. Like the kind of place where things might finally slow down for you.

Jay was already up, leaning casually on the rail with a coffee in hand and sunglasses perched on his nose like he hadn’t stayed up half the night trying to charm you out of your room.

“Sleep well?” he asked without looking.

You stepped beside him and inhaled the salt-thick air. “Like a sloth. Must be the ocean breeze. Or the sheer emotional exhaustion of your flirting.”

He chuckled. “You wound me. I’m not a flirt, I’m a charmer.”

“Does saying that help you sleep better at night?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head.

“Most of the time,” he said, grinning. Then he nodded toward the dock. “You’re up next. Corsica awaits.”

You glanced at the approaching land, heart flickering with something between nerves and excitement. “Oh, it’s a beauty. Are you sure you won’t stop by and explore the island before you head to Sardinia?”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m a little behind schedule.” He turned to face you fully, just for a moment. “It’s a shame, though. I was starting to enjoy your company.”

“Was?”

“Am,” he corrected, gently. “Though I suspect I’ll be enjoying the memory of you more than anything else.”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself smiling anyway. “Well, thanks for the ride. And the fish. And for not being a strange man who liked to kidnap unsuspecting tourists who missed their ferries.”

Jay laughed a little too hard, head lolling back. When he recovered, he was wiping small tears from the corners of his eyes. “We’ll see each other again, though. I’m sure of it.”

You blinked at him. “That sounded oddly ominous.”

He winked. “Then I said it right.”

The yacht bumped gently against the dock. A crew member waved you toward the exit. You gave Jay a last look, one corner of your mouth lifting in amusement.

“Take care, Playboy.”

“You too, Miss Not-That-Kind-of-Girl.”

You descended the ramp with your suitcase thumping behind you, the sun warming your shoulders and your next destination waiting just ahead.

Behind you, the yacht peeled away from the dock and disappeared around the curve of the coast. But Jay’s last words echoed anyway.

We’ll see each other again.

The village was even lovelier up close. Narrow stone streets wove between crumbling old buildings, flower boxes popping color out of every window. Locals moved slowly, like they had all the time in the world. It felt like a place untouched by urgency, like nothing truly bad could happen here.

You wandered without direction, letting your feet take you uphill, away from the port and toward the cliffs that framed the coastline. The sea stretched endlessly below, crashing in soft rhythms. For a while, you just stood there and stared at it, arms folded loosely, wind tugging at your clothes. You could already picture the postcards.

Then, further ahead, something caught your eye.

It sat like a relic from another lifetime: a grand, slightly crumbling mansion with tall shuttered windows and ivy crawling halfway up the walls. The gate stood open, a “FOR SALE” sign bolted crookedly to the wrought iron. Grass had grown wild, and the gravel path was broken and overgrown, but the bones of the place were beautiful. In your mind’s eye, you could picture the grandeur and the majesty of the place.

You hesitated for a second, then stepped through the gate. The front door wasn’t locked and inside, the air was stale but not unpleasant. The ceilings were high, the rooms wide and flooded with light from broken windows. It smelled faintly of dust and sea. You moved carefully, your footsteps echoing across tiled floors and creaking wood.

In your mind, it all changed. You saw fresh white paint, wide glass doors, airy curtains that fluttered in the breeze. You pictured soft linens and warm breakfasts, travelers coming in from the harbor with sand still on their skin. You could almost hear the clink of plates in a bright little dining room and laughter echoing through the halls.

You gasped at the sheer excitement of it all, covering your mouth as you looked around the place. Then you shrieked and started twirling around. You stopped just in time, breathless at the edge of the stairs.

“This is it,” you muttered to yourself, eyes still wide. “This is the place.”

You turned to leave, determined to find out if the place was still for sale and if your savings was enough to buy it. But just as you were stepping out of the big double doors, large drops of rain started hitting the floor and your head.

The downpour came instantly, heavy and fast, drenching the gravel path before you. You froze at the doorway, then stepped back inside. The once quiet halls were filled with the sound of raindrops battering the roof and the old windows, sheets of it cascading off the eaves. There was no point trying to make a run for it.

So you wandered a little deeper into the house, hugging your arms to yourself. 

“Just for a few minutes,” you murmured aloud, brushing a cobweb off a dusty banister. “I’m sure it’s just passing by.”

But hours passed and the rain didn’t let up.

What started as a drizzle had turned relentless, and by late afternoon, it was hard to tell whether the sky was getting darker from the storm or the approaching dusk. The old house groaned occasionally with the wind. Water pelted the windows like tiny stones.

You paced for a bit, hugged your knees for a while, then tried pacing again. The floorboards creaked. Somewhere upstairs, something thudded. It could’ve been the wind. Or ghosts. You chose not to think about it.

“I love this place,” you muttered to yourself. “I just don’t want to die here.”

With the rain still going strong and no sign of stopping, you resigned yourself to the possibility of staying the night, miserable, damp, and slightly haunted. You pulled your bag closer, rummaging for something that could function as a light source. Cellphone? Dead. Flashlight? Obviously, you didn’t have one. You were sure you had a lighter, though. It was your friend’s that you’d nicked at some point before leaving for France.

Just as you were deep into your luggage looking for the lighter, you heard footsteps. Your head jerked up. Then another footstep, then the sound of the front door creaking.

You froze. You weren’t imagining it—someone was inside!

Your mind raced. Was it the owner? Were you about to be arrested for trespassing? Was it a real estate agent with unfortunate timing? Or worse, some awful drifter who wandered into empty buildings looking for lone women to murder in cold blood?

The footsteps were getting closer. Your heart jumped into your throat.

Without thinking, you grabbed the closest thing—a splintered piece of wood from a broken table leg—and backed into the shadow of the stairwell, gripping it like a weapon.

They were coming down the main hall with steady, heavy steps. When the figure appeared in the doorway, you lunged.

Or, well, tried to.

A startled yelp came out of both of you as the man blocked your swing just in time, catching your wrists with both hands. “Whoa—whoa—hey!” he gasped. “I’m not—! I’m not here to rob you! Or—or murder you!”

You stared at him, breathless, wood still clutched in your hands. “Then what the hell are you doing here?!”

“Trying not to die of hypothermia,” he said quickly. He had a soaked jacket, a backpack slung off one shoulder, and water dripping from the ends of his hair. “And, uh—avoiding flying furniture, apparently.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m—I’m Sunghoon! Park Sunghoon!”

You didn’t relax yet. “Are you the owner?”

“No,” he said. “Are you?”

You hesitated. “…No.”

He slowly let go of your wrists. You slowly lowered your arm. The two of you stared at each other, breathing hard.

“Well,” you said after a few seconds, sighing in relief. “This is definitely not how I imagined meeting someone today.”

He blinked. Then laughed. “Yeah, me neither.”

You both stood there for a while, listening to the rain hammering the roof like it had no plans of stopping. You glanced at him. “Think it’ll let up soon?”

Sunghoon didn’t even look outside. “Nope.”

“…You sound so sure.”

He shrugged out of his wet jacket. “I just know a thing or two about weather.”

“Okay, Weatherman.” You made a face. “Fantastic. So what, we just wait it out? Sit on the floor until morning?”

“There’s probably a fireplace somewhere,” he said, tugging off his shoes and shaking out his soaked sleeves. “A place like this has to have one.”

You sighed, shuddering at the sight of him in wet clothes. You then turned to your suitcase and flung it open. You first found the lighter, turned it on, and rummaged through your clothes for a t-shirt.

You found a plain white oversized sweater and handed it to him. “Here.”

Sunghoon hesitated. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You said so yourself. The rain isn’t letting up anytime soon.”

He sighed, but he looked grateful when he accepted it. “Thanks.”

You turned away as he got dressed, fixing your gaze on a hallway up ahead. “I think I saw the fireplace over there earlier.”

Walking together, with the lighter illuminating the dark halls, the two of you found it the old, soot-caked hearth in what might’ve once been a formal sitting room. Tall windows lined the walls, and you could see lightning flash beyond the horizon. The fireplace was cold and cobwebbed but intact.

“Found our survival base,” you said, voice echoing off the high ceiling.

Together, you gathered anything burnable—splintered chair legs, bits of an old table that looked way beyond repair. Sunghoon kicked apart a broken door with a little too much enthusiasm.

You raised an eyebrow. “You do this a lot?”

“Breaking and entering?” he asked, dragging a long covered couch across the room. “No. But I’m good at winging things.”

He tugged the white cloth off the couch and sent a thick cloud of dust into the air. Beneath it, the upholstery was surprisingly intact—floral velvet with only one visible tear on the side.

“Not bad,” he said, flopping down. “Way better than the hostel I stayed in last night.”

You scoffed. “I appreciate your optimism.”

You dropped your bag nearby and pulled out your meager stash of chips, two chocolate bars, and a slightly squished croissant. You held them out. “Dinner?”

He held up a hand to his chest solemnly. “It’s an honor.”

You shared the food while he coaxed the fire to life. Soon enough, warmth began to seep into the room, and a yellowish glow illuminated your faces and the walls.

“Not the worst way to spend a storm,” he said, stretching out his legs toward the fire.

You gave him a look. “You realize we’re in a haunted-looking mansion, right? With barely enough food and no cell service?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, tilting his head back against the couch. “But at least we’re warm and dry, and not dead yet.”

You laughed quietly, pulling your knees up to your chest. The fire crackled between you. Rain kept pelting the windows, but in here, it was manageable. Almost safe. You were both quiet for a while, chewing in silence, listening to the fire crackle and the storm rage outside.

Then Sunghoon spoke. “I used to be scared of thunder.”

You glanced over. “Really?”

He nodded, glancing over his shoulders out at the tall windows. “I was maybe six or seven. My mom told me it was just the clouds yelling at each other.” He smiled faintly. “So I’d yell back. Thought it made me brave.”

You grinned. “Did it work?”

“Only when she was in the room.”

The fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney. He leaned back, his gaze on the flames. “You ever have something you were embarrassed to admit you were scared of?”

You thought about it. “I’m scared of spiraling out of control.” You chuckled. “You?”

He looked over, brows lifted slightly. “Me? I don’t know,” he said, then looked away. “I think I’m scared of staying still.”

You didn’t say anything at first, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, you asked, “Did you… run away?”

“Not exactly,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if I’m running away or taking a break. I had this perfectly reasonable life mapped out for me. Job, partner, apartment, future. All very respectable.” He let out a dry laugh. “But none of it felt like it belonged to me.”

You nodded slowly, understanding without needing every detail.

“So I left,” he added. “Just picked a spot on the map and left.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then you said, “Good for you.”

He looked at you. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Sometimes walking away is the braver thing.”

You took a deep breath and fixed your gaze on the fire. “I ran away, too. Everyone back home had some plan for me. What I’d study. Where I’d work. Who I’d be. And I went along with it because it was easier than fighting. Until one day I looked around and realized nothing in my life felt like mine.”

You felt your chest loosen after saying that out loud, like something unknotted inside you. A long pause followed. Then you added with a smile, “Still doesn’t explain why I walked into a random old mansion.”

“It’s a beautiful one,” he said. “Kind of poetic, really. You leave your life behind and walk straight into a ghost of someone else’s.”

You chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “Well, when you put it that way…”

The wind howled outside, but the room felt warm. Not just from the fire—something else, too. Something like understanding. You looked at him again, really looked this time. He was soaked, probably tired, and definitely not what you expected to find when you first stepped through those gates.

But somehow, running into him made perfect sense.

You woke up to sunlight pouring in from the tall windows. The high ceiling and the dust floating in the rays of morning light reminded you where you were—an abandoned mansion where you got stuck waiting out a storm.

You sat up slowly, noticing that the spot on the couch beside you was empty.

“Sunghoon?” you called out, but there was no response. 

You stood up, stretching your sore arms, and glanced around. The place was as quiet as it had been the day before. The broken furniture. The high windows. The eerie vibe.

You had almost thought Sunghoon wasn’t real. That he was just a figment of your imagination that your brain cooked up out of fear of being alone in this big house, but then your eyes landed on a dark denim jacket hanging near the fireplace, still a little damp.

You smiled a little. He was real after all.

But where was he? You had no idea. Maybe he’d left as soon as morning came and simply forgotten his jacket. Not that you were expecting him to stay, but you had assumed he would at least bid you a proper goodbye.

Well, it was no use sitting around waiting for him to come back and explain himself, so you decided to start your day. After gathering your things and running a hand through your hair, you made your way out of the mansion and back through the village path. The rain had washed the streets clean, and the morning had that fresh-after-a-storm feeling.

At the heart of the village, you found the inn. It looked like it hadn’t been updated in a decade, but it had flower pots on the window sills and a hand-painted sign out front that read Chambres.

The woman at the front desk wore a knit vest, bright lipstick, and had the energy of someone who’d wrestle a bear and win. She welcomed you like you were an old friend who’d finally come home, offered a nice room, and a hearty breakfast.

By noon, you were freshly showered, had eaten something good, and were strolling through the village looking for the real estate office. You found it near a patisserie, and the woman behind the desk raised an eyebrow when you mentioned the old mansion.

“That place?” she said. “You sure?”

You told her you were, and that you had the money ready.

She blinked, then smiled. “Well, no one else was ever interested in buying it, so it’s yours if you really want it. Paperwork will take a while, but you can go ahead and start fixing it up. No one’ll stop you.”

You were halfway through signing the first form when she added, “Funny. Someone else asked about it earlier today. Young man. Seemed curious but didn’t seem interested in buying.”

“Why was he asking about it?”

“Who knows? First-time visitors to this town are always curious about that place.”

You paused for a second, then shrugged. “As long as he’s not a potential rival buyer, I’m good,” you said with a smile.

“I assure you, Miss,” the lady said, stepping out of her desk to join you. “No one wants that place. Why do you think it’s much cheaper than it’s supposed to be?”

The real estate agent handed you note after the paperwork, tapping her nail against the words written on it.

“Since the place is gonna need to be fixed up, I suggest you talk to Jean-Luc. He’s a mason, but he has a group of carpenters working for him. He does a pretty good job, though he can be a little nosy.”

“Thanks. I was just wondering where to start looking for help,” you said, smiling as you examined the name and address on the note.

Before leaving the office, the agent told you what Jean-Luc’s daily rate was and to call out his bullshit if he ever asked for more than that. You thanked her again and turned in the direction of Jean-Luc’s shop. 

You met him at his shop, a wiry man in suspenders and a flat cap. He asked a few questions, but he seemed to know more about the place than you did.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning to have a proper look, then we can negotiate.”

After that, he pointed you to a local supply shop, where you bought items you could use in the meantime, including some sturdy brooms, a pair of gloves, a few rags, and a bucket. You debated getting bleach but settled for lemon cleaner and optimism.

By the time you made your way back up the winding road to the mansion, your arms were aching from the weight of the supplies. But there was something satisfying about the ache, the breeze, and the faint scent of damp earth left by the storm.

You were surprised to see a motorbike parked outside the gates. The rain from the night before had washed the dust off the path, and the sun lit up the gravel as you stepped through the front doors of the mansion again.

Inside, the sound of hammering echoed faintly through the halls.

You followed it to the study, where the fireplace was. Sunghoon was crouched beside a wooden table, sleeves pushed up, hair damp at the temples. He held a hammer in one hand and was steadying a broken leg with the other, completely focused.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps. “Hey,” he said, straightening. “You’re back.”

You blinked. “You’re here?”

“So are you,” he said, setting the hammer down gently. “I thought you’d left for good.”

“I thought you left,” you replied, stepping inside.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Just went out to grab some food. When I came back, you weren’t here.”

You looked around. A few chairs had been repaired. One of the broken shelves stood straighter than before. He’d clearly been busy.

“You’ve been fixing things?” you asked.

He nodded. “I had time. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to help the place along a little. The woman at the real estate office said I could come by if I wanted.”

You raised a brow. “You went to the real estate office?”

“Yeah. She was friendly.” He looked sheepish, then smiled. “She said no one was ever interested in the place.”

You smiled back. “Well… someone is.”

He paused. “You?”

You nodded. He let out a short breath, like he hadn’t expected that. Then he gave a small, thoughtful smile. “Then maybe it’s good I didn’t leave.”

You tilted your head. “Why is that?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna need extra hands around here.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, no thanks. I don’t need a man bossing me around my own property.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Sunghoon laughed. “I’m an architect, you see. I know my way around structures. If you’re planning to restore the place… I could help.”

You studied him. He didn’t seem to be lying. “…I don’t know how much I can pay you,” you said.

“Well, you fed and dressed me last night, so I’m basically alive because of you.”

That made you snort. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Just a little,” he replied, laughing. “But I’m serious. If you don’t mind having me around… I’m happy to help. That’s all.”

You were quiet for a moment, then reached into your bag and pulled out a broom. “Alright, then. Since you’re so eager… how about we start with the floors?”

He took the broom from you with a smile. “Sure.”

The first few days were chaotic in the most exciting way. You had dust in your lungs. Paint flakes in your hair. And the occasional clatter of tools or startled yelp when someone stepped on a loose board made the once eerily quiet place into a rowdy construction site. 

Jean-Luc’s team of local carpenters moved in and out with efficiency, restoring what could be saved and gutting what couldn’t. 

You did what you could afford. No grand hotel transformation just yet because your savings wouldn’t allow it, but enough to make the place safe, clean, and standing. You patched up what you could and left the heavy lifting to people who actually knew what they were doing. Sunghoon floated somewhere between both worlds, neither a hired worker nor idle guest.

He showed the carpenters the original layout you’d uncovered, and offered suggestions they actually listened to. You noticed the way they nodded when he spoke, how they looked to him when unsure.

One day, when the particularly exquisite wooden double doors leading to a grand ballroom broke down, everyone said your idea of putting them back in place wasn’t possible. The broken hinges had chipped a piece off one of the two doors, making it hard to put it back.

“We can repurpose the other one. Use it to replace the library door. Then maybe forgo the doors and keep the ballroom open?” Sunghoon suggested, tilting his head as he examined the doorway. He turned to you. “What do you think?”

“You’re full of solutions, aren’t you?” you said, only half-teasing.

He shrugged. “Comes with the degree.”

The architect thing came up again and again—not because he bragged, but because he made it quite useful. He knew how to brace the weakened staircase, how to check for mold behind plaster, and how to tell the difference between salvageable and unsafe. And when you asked how he knew all this labor stuff when he was supposed to be an architect, he always said, “It comes with the job.”

Together, you made progress. Slow, sweaty, stubborn progress.

You’d sweep out a room while he cleared debris. He’d rig up temporary lighting while you picked tile samples you couldn’t afford yet. Some afternoons, you’d sit together on the back steps, drinking orange juice from the orchard behind the house. 

Other times, when your arms were too tired to scrub anything else, he’d ask, “Want to get out of here for a bit?” And somehow, you always did.

You rode behind him on the motorbike, hands wrapped around his waist, wind whipping at your sleeves. The roads curved sharply along the cliffs, opening into views of the sea that looked almost too blue to be real. You dipped your toes in hidden coves, ate greasy fish sandwiches by the pier, and once spent a full hour watching an old man play the accordion in the town square.

Sometimes he pointed things out—a crumbling lighthouse, a fig tree blooming near the bend—and you found yourself asking about the island, even though you knew he was as new to the island as you were.

The nights were quieter. Sometimes you cooked, sometimes you didn’t. Once, when the electricity went out, you shared a bowl of fruit by candlelight and listened to the wind sweep through the shutters. He told you about a vineyard resort project he’d worked on in Nice. You told him how you’d found this place by accident a few years ago on a trip you were never supposed to take.

Opening up to him was oddly easy for someone like you who liked to keep to herself and not let people in. He was easy to be around. Charismatic without trying. Quiet, but never cold.

You soon noticed how he always let you talk first. How he’d fix something for you without being asked to, or wipe his shoes before stepping inside even if the floors were already filthy.

The house slowly took shape. And so did whatever this was between you.

Jean-Luc’s crew was just wrapping up for the day when you stepped out, putting on your jacket and smoothing down the skirt of your dress. You’d taken the time to pick it out, simple, soft blue, not too fancy, but it was much more sophisticated than your usual work shirts and sun-stained jeans.

Jean spotted you instantly. “Ah,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag and giving you a once-over. “That dress is new.”

You gave him a look. “I had this dress for years.”

He grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You dressed up nicely for your date.”

“It’s not a date,” you said, out of habit more than conviction. “We’re just eating out because I didn’t wanna cook.”

The guys had heard Sunghoon earlier in the day when he invited you to eat at the pub in town. He did it because you complained about being too tired to make food, but Jean and his crew decided it was open to interpretation.

“Mm-hmm.” He raised a brow. “Sure. Too tired to cook, but not too tired to wear parfum, eh?” he added, glancing at his crew, who all started whistling.

You rolled your eyes, laughing under your breath. Their teasing had become a daily ritual ever since they started working in the house. You’d learned about Jean’s nosy nature from the get-go, but were surprised at first when you saw it firsthand. He’d asked you almost everything there was to know about you, from your education, your parents, and your decision to move into a foreign land and buy a haunted mansion.

Still, he didn’t pry too much and wasn’t annoying, so you took it all in stride. And as for his assumption that there was something going on between you and Sunghoon, well, you didn’t think much of it. If Sunghoon knew or was clueless that he was being shipped with you, you wouldn’t know because you never really talked about it.

“How about I hitch a ride to town?” you asked, already getting into their truck. “Would be a waste walking downhill in this dress, don’t you think?”

“It would be an honor to deliver you to your prince, mademoiselle.”

By the time you stepped out at the curb near the pub, the sun had dipped low, gleaming orange and gold across the sea. You caught your reflection briefly in the window and frowned. It was a nice dress. But why did you take the time to look pretty? You’d even put on lipstick, and for what? A casual dinner?

It’s just dinner! Right?

Or is it? You shook the thought away before you could overthink it.

Inside, the pub was lively but cozy, with fairy lights strung on wooden beams, a small local band playing mellow jazz near the back. Sunghoon was already seated at a corner table, nursing a glass of something amber. He looked up when you walked in and smiled.

“Wow,” he said, standing as you approached. “You look…”

He paused, and the way he searched for a word made you feel self-conscious. You hid your nervousness behind a smirk. “Weird? Disproportionate? Wicked with a hint of witchcraft and sorcery?”

He laughed. “Beautiful. Definitely beautiful.”

You smiled, sliding into the chair opposite him. “Thanks.”

He looked good, too. He’d shaved. Maybe even styled his hair. A waitress came by, dropped off menus, and you both skimmed through them, ordering a round of food that was heavier than you needed but comforting all the same. The band was playing a soft instrumental, and you leaned back in your seat, letting the atmosphere settle.

Sunghoon had been at the house every day this past week, but it occurred to you now how little you knew about his nights. He didn’t stay there, not even once. He always left just before dusk, riding off on that old motorbike. You never asked where he went, but vaguely assumed he was probably resting in his room at the inn. You were curious, but it didn’t matter much.

Until now.

Tonight, he was different. Still warm, still easy to talk to, but something in the air felt a little off-script. The way his eyes gleamed, the way he smiled when you caught him looking. It made you nervous and giddy at the same time.

“Didn’t take you for a dress person,” he said, sipping his drink.

You raised a brow. “And what kind of person did you take me for?”

He tilted his head like he was thinking of the answer. “Sawdust. Paint stains. And boots.”

You scoffed. “So… a disaster?”

“I didn’t say that.” His smile widened. “I like disasters. They’re more fun to fix.”

You narrowed your eyes, half-laughing. “Did you just call me a fixer-upper?”

“Well, no…” he trailed off, then blinked like he’d surprised himself. “Wait, did I? Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—you're actually kind of perfect.”

You laughed under your breath. “Okay, Charmer. Slow down.”

He leaned in, elbows on the table. “You’re blushing. I think you’re charmed.”

“It would take more than that to sweep me off my feet, Hoon,” you said, taking a slow sip of your drink. You smiled at him as you placed your glass back down. “But you’re on the right track.”

“Am I?” he asked, grinning, canines and dimples on full display. “Good to know. I’ll try harder then.”

He didn’t usually talk like this. You didn’t either, not with him. But neither of you stopped.

When the food came, the conversation didn’t stop either. It slipped in with the wine, with the melodic music in the background, with the occasional brush of his knee against yours beneath the table.

“You really didn’t have to dress up,” he said at one point, glancing at you over his fork.

“I didn’t,” you said. “This is me on a regular day. You should see me on a real date.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Am I not getting the real date version?”

“That depends. Is this a date?”

His brows lifted slightly, as if surprised you said it out loud. But his answer came quickly.

“I don’t know.” He smiled. “You tell me.”’

You sighed, feigning frustration. “Ugh, no. Wrong answer.”

Sunghoon winced, propped an elbow on the table, and buried his face in his hand. “Crap. Can I try again?”

“Nope,” you teased, giggling behind your glass.

The flirting stopped by dessert, and you fell into a conversation about the house and its grand architecture. Sunghoon talked about the dating of the design and the timelessness of it. At some point, you’d told him your plans of converting it into a hotel. It would take time since money was obviously a huge factor to consider, but you laid out your renovation plans, your vision, and the whole dream behind the project.

“For now, it’s just a dream,” you said, smiling as you stirred an olive in your drink. “But the first step was buying the place, and that’s a box ticked in my list.”

“That’s actually a big start.”

“Right?” you chimed, eyes gleaming. “I still have a long way to go, but it is something, right?”

“It is,” he replied, a smile gracing his lips as he watched you.

You kept talking, hands moving animatedly as you described the lounge you envisioned, the garden terrace, the way the morning sun would hit the breakfast room just right. And Sunghoon just watched you.

At first, you didn’t notice, too caught up in your own excitement. But then you glanced at him and caught the way he was looking at you—soft and focused, like he wasn’t listening at all but watching.

Your smile faltered slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked, leaned back, and shrugged with a small grin. “Like what?”

“Like that,” you repeated, heat creeping to your cheeks. “I know you know what I mean.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you, eyes glinting under the dim pub lights. “No reason. I just… I’m just really proud of you.”

Your pulse raced at the way he said it. Like he meant it, and the affection in his voice wasn’t a figment of your imagination. You looked down at your drink. “Well. Thanks.”

He tilted his head. “That made you nervous.”

“No, it didn’t.”

He laughed under his breath. “You always get defensive when someone compliments you. It’s cute.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling now. “And you’re acting really out of character tonight. What’s up with you?”

“Sunghoon straightened up in his seat, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, a little too casually

Before you could say anything, he flagged down the server, asking for a pen and paper. A few minutes later, the order sheet was in front of him, along with your full attention.

“Alright,” he said, uncapping the pen. “Show me what you see.”

“What I see?”

“For your dream hotel,” he replied, beaming. “I’ll do a free sketch for you since you came here looking all pretty tonight.”

You laughed at first, but took him up on his offer. You walked him through it—the courtyard, the check-in desk, the sunlit breakfast room. He listened closely, nodding along, his hand gliding over the paper with precision. He added soft curves where you imagined sharp lines, windows where there were none, and little alcoves you hadn’t even thought of.

“This is where I’d put the courtyard,” you said, tapping the center.

“With some trees?” he asked. “A fountain?”

“Exactly,” you said. “But not a flashy one. Just charming and pretty.”

He sketched it in. You leaned over the table to get a better look, your shoulder brushing his. He didn’t pull away. You didn’t either.

When he finished, he slid the paper toward you. “It’s rough, but… this is what I see when you talk about it.”

You stared at the sketch, warmth blooming in your chest. “It’s kind of perfect.”

“You’re kind of perfect,” he said, and this time, he didn’t soften it with a laugh or a tease. 

Your heart thudded. He was looking at you like that again—like you were the only one in the room, like it would hurt him to peel his eyes away, like he wanted to just stare at you as much as he could.

“So… what now?” you asked, one hand hugging yourself. You felt nervous under his gaze, and not in a bad way.

“I should drive you back, but…” he paused, leaning a little closer. “Do you want to take a walk before we call it a night?”

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Outside, the air was cool and the streets mostly empty. The band’s music faded behind you as you walked side by side, a little closer than usual, not talking much. His hand brushed yours once, then again—until he finally just reached for it and laced your fingers together.

When you turned the corner and saw his bike down the road, he looked at you once with a smile before letting go of your hand.

“Will you be alright?” he asked as he mounted his bike and handed you one of the helmets. “You’re in a dress.”

“Yeah. I can manage,” you said, letting him help you put the helmet on.

His hand lingered on your jaw even after he’d fastened the helmet in. For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you, but he just took a deep breath and turned back to his bike.

The ride was cool and quiet. You held onto him as usual, arms wrapped around his torso, balancing yourself behind him, making sure you didn’t fall. For some reason, despite the considerable distance of the town from your mansion, the drive ended too quickly. 

You stopped in front of the gates but as you handed him his helmet back, something heavy settled in your chest. You didn’t want the night to end.

Neither did he, apparently. You could tell by the way he just sat there on his bike, staring at you and not saying anything but not moving to leave either.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked quietly after a minute.

He didn’t answer at first, just looked at you as if he was looking for any hint of doubt on your face.

Then, with a smile, he said, “I would love to if that’s alright with you.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You didn’t need to. Because all the overthinking, the second-guessing, the usual mental tug-of-war you went through whenever something felt too close and too good just stopped.

There was only the cool night air, the sound of crickets in the distance, and Sunghoon—  at you with that steady gaze of his, like he’d wait forever for your answer if he had to.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you stepped forward and kissed him. And he kissed you back like he’d been waiting for this all night.

His hands came to your waist, holding you. One of them slid up your back, pulling you in a little closer. You felt him smile into it and that was the moment your knees nearly gave out.

Because it was soft and sweet and beautiful and just so so melting.

When you finally pulled back, breath slightly uneven, he didn’t let go of you. “Is that a ‘yes’?” he whispered teasingly.

You giggled, eyes still closed. “That’s a yes.”

He kissed you once more. Urgently this time, like he couldn’t help himself, before reaching past you to unlock the gate.

Inside, the house was quiet, the lights were dim. You didn’t bother flicking them on. His hand found yours as you kicked your shoes off by the door, and you led him through the dim hallway like it was instinct. 

You weren’t rushing, pausing every now and then at some corner to kiss and embrace each other like you couldn’t get enough.

In your room, you both paused not from hesitation, but awe. Sunghoon looked around the once lifeless space that now felt lived-in and warm. And then his gaze returned to you, and it softened, like you were the most beautiful part of the room.

“Are you nervous?” he asked quietly, holding your hands.

“A little,” you admitted, stepping close. “But not the bad kind of nervous.”

He smiled, reached up and cupped your face in both hands, drawing you in again. The kiss this time was different. Slower, surer. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the way his breath hitched when your fingers brushed the back of his neck.

His touch was careful and tender, like he was asking permission with every move. You helped him out of his jacket, then reached behind yourself to pull the zipper of your dress down, but his hands stopped you gently.

“Let me,” he murmured.

You turned, and his fingers found the zipper. You felt the brush of his knuckles against your spine, the drag of fabric slipping from your shoulders. When you turned back to face him, he just stood there for a second, eyes roaming slowly over you.

“God,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

He didn’t say it like he was trying to seduce you. He said it like he meant it. Like he’d never meant anything more.

You reached out, pulled him back to you, mouths meeting again as your hands slid down his stomach to the front of his jeans. He hissed when you pressed your palm to the bulge there, already hard for you. “Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. “Please don’t tease.”

“Sorry,” you whispered, grinning.

He picked you up gently and carried you to the bed. The sheets were cool beneath you, and the room warm around you. You pulled him down with you, mouths meeting again. His kisses grew deeper, needier, as he settled between your legs, grinding slow against your clothed sex.

You could feel him through the layers, thick and hard, and it made your body pulse with want. He slipped a hand down between your thighs, pressing the heel of his palm against your core. You moaned, soft and breathy, hips tilting up to meet him.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, his lips grazing your throat. “Just from kissing me?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you mumbled, but your voice cracked on the end.

He smiled against your skin, then kissed down your body—between your breasts, your navel, lower—until he reached the edge of your panties. He looked up at you then, waiting.

You nodded.

He pulled them off slowly and settled between your thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The first stroke of his tongue made your back arch off the bed.

He took his time, licking deep, sucking hard until you were gasping his name. One arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you open, the other hand slid up to lace your fingers together on the sheets. You came like that—shaking, eyes squeezed shut, hand clinging to his—his mouth still on you, working you through it.

When he kissed back up your body, you were trembling. “You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded again. “Please.”

“Condoms?”

You shook your head. “I’m on the pill.”

He kissed you again, harder this time, and then positioned himself between your legs, his jaw tight like he was holding himself back. He slid into you languidly, lubricated by your own cum and his saliva.

He sank in slowly, with a deep, ragged breath, forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”

You felt full, stretched in the best way. Your arms wrapped around his back, fingernails grazing his skin as he started to move—shallow at first, then deeper, rolling his hips in smooth, deliberate thrusts that made your toes curl.

He kept whispering your name, like he couldn’t stop himself. Kept asking if you were okay, if it felt good, if he should go slower—and every time, your only answer was to hold him closer.

It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t frantic. It was deep. Hot. And overwhelming in the most delightful way.

You kissed through it, tangled in sweat and soft moans and the sound of skin meeting skin. Your second orgasm built slowly, until he shifted your hips up just right, and you cried out, gripping his back as you came again.

He followed not long after, burying his face in your neck with a choked sound, holding you so tightly you could hardly breathe—and you didn’t want to, not if it meant letting go.

He stayed inside you for a moment after, catching his breath, lips brushing your shoulder. Then he pulled out gently and lay beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms again.

No one spoke for a while. You didn’t need to.

His fingers traced soft shapes of your back as your breathing slowed. Your cheek rested against his chest, where you could feel his heartbeat still thudding fast.

“I really like you,” he said eventually, voice low, almost shy.

You closed your eyes. “I know.” And you did. “I like you too.”

The next morning, Sunghoon made coffee while you stood barefoot in the kitchen, hair messy, wearing only his oversized shirt from the night before. He’d found the beans in your pantry, ground them by hand, and hummed under his breath while the moka pot hissed on the stove. When he handed you a cup, it was with a kiss to your temple and a sleepy smile you wanted to keep in your pocket forever.

He didn’t leave that day. And the day after that. And then again the next. It wasn’t even a conversation—it just happened. One minute, he was supposed to return to his little room at the inn. The next, his toothbrush was on your sink and his boots sat neatly next to yours by the door.

“I guess I live here now,” he said with a shrug one evening, holding up a bundle of clean clothes he’d brought over.

You tried to act unbothered, but your chest felt light and strange and full. “I guess you do,” you replied.

Days spilled into each other like honey, slow and golden.

You worked the orange orchard together, side by side under the sun. He taught you how to check the fruits for ripeness, how to prune gently, how to tell if the bees were happy. You teased him for being too serious about it. He teased you for wearing perfume to pick fruit. He stole kisses in the shade of the trees, juice sticky on your fingers, the scent of citrus clinging to your skin.

“You’ve got a bit on your mouth,” he’d say, only to lean in and lick it off with a grin that made you drop the basket you were carrying.

Sometimes you ended up lying in the grass instead of working. Talking about the past, the future. Tracing invisible lines on each other’s arms. Learning the things that didn’t come up in early conversations—how he hated raisins, how you cried watching documentaries, how neither of you had felt like this in a long, long time.

Nights were warm. He’d light a fire when it got cold and pull you into his lap while you ate dinner on the couch. The two of you would read—him with his architectural journals, you with whatever novel you’d found at the local shop. Your legs tangled. His hand on your thigh. You’d fall asleep with your cheek on his chest more often than not, waking up only when he carried you to bed.

He made love to you like he was discovering something new each time. Slow. Intentional. Always watching your face like it told him a secret he didn’t want to forget. There were times he didn’t say a word, just kissed you like he meant it, like he needed it, like he’d been waiting to do it forever.

Sometimes it was lazy. Sometimes passionate. Sometimes soft, with laughter in between. One time, he brought oranges into the shower, peeled them as water ran down both your backs, fed you slices from his fingers before pressing you up against the glass.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” you told him one night, your voice quiet in the dark.

He rolled over to face you, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded with sleep. “Me neither.”

You explored the island on foot and by his bike, visited hidden beaches and ate at local tavernas where he introduced you as his “partner”—not girlfriend, not roommate, just something simple and solid and true.

He drew plans for your hotel idea, left them pinned up on your fridge, updated them with sticky notes that said things like “maybe French doors here?” or “do you like this arch style?”

You found yourself setting the table for two without thinking. Buying his favorite snacks when you went into town. Pulling his shirts from the laundry and holding them to your chest like a fool.

There was a routine now. A tenderness. A life. And it felt like forever.

One day, you were sitting on the dock just past the cove, legs dangling over the edge, fishing rods in hand and an old bottle of white wine between you. Neither of you knew much about fishing, but Sunghoon said that was part of the fun.

You’d caught nothing. He’d caught seaweed. Twice.

“Okay, but it looked like a fish,” he said defensively, flicking the green tangle off his line. “For a second.”

You laughed, tipping your head back as the breeze brushed your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this with someone other than your best friends. He looked over at you, half smiling, the way he always did when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

A peaceful quiet settled between you for a minute. Then you broke it.

“I’ve pictured this place for years,” you said softly. “Not this exact dock, or this exact sunset… but the idea of it. Of being somewhere like this.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away. He just turned his head to listen.

“I’d imagine buying a house on some forgotten island, fixing it up myself, turning it into a little bed and breakfast or a hotel. Starting something that was just mine. A place to breathe. A place to stay.”

You swallowed, not nervous, just careful. “And I was always alone in that picture. I wasn’t lonely, I was content. I thought that’s what I wanted.” You looked at him. “And then I met you.”

His eyes stayed on you, steady. Patient.

“And now when I picture it again… I see you. Just—there. Beside me. Part of it.”

You gave a small shrug, cheeks warm. “I know it sounds crazy. We haven’t known each other long, and there’s still a lot I don’t know about you, and maybe this is too fast, but… I was wondering if you’d like to be in that picture. For real. If you’d want to try building something together.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer right away. He just set down his fishing rod, then reached for your hand, fingers lacing between yours.

“Doesn’t sound crazy to me at all,” he said quietly.

You looked at him. He looked at you. And in that silence, something deep and certain was decided between you. Llike two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

The fish still weren’t biting. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

That night, you lay tangled together in bed, skin still warm from the day’s sun and each other’s touch. The windows were open, and the sound of the waves slamming against the cliff below was oddly soothing despite its violence. Sunghoon’s arm lay heavy across your waist, fingers lazily stroking your bare stomach. It was quiet, the kind of silence that usually felt safe with him.

“I have to tell you something,” he said quietly.

You turned slightly to face him. “What is it?”

“I love you.”

You giggled, closing your eyes and nuzzling your nose back on his chest. “Okay, Lover Boy. I heard you.”

“And I’m engaged to someone else,” he added, making you force your eyes open.

At first, you didn’t react. The words didn’t quite register in your head. You blinked up at him, waiting for a punchline. But he just looked back at you, his eyes open and serious.

“What?”

“It’s not what it sounds like,” he said quickly, propping himself up. “It’s arranged. My family—back home—they… they set it up. I didn’t choose it. I barely know her. I’ve met her maybe three times. I don’t have feelings for her.”

Something cold seeped into your chest. You pulled away from him. “And when were you going to tell me?”

“I—I didn’t know how. I didn’t think it mattered at first. But then everything with us…” He reached for you, but you slapped his hand away. “I should’ve told you sooner. I know.”

You sat up, dragging the sheet around yourself. “You didn’t think it mattered? Are you hearing yourself?”

“I didn’t plan any of this,” he said, sitting up too. “I was just here for a little break. I didn’t plan to meet you and fall for you.”

You laughed bitterly. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t stand there and talk about falling for me like you didn’t lie by omission every single day. You let me build a whole dream around you. Around us. And you were promised to someone else this whole time?”

“It’s not real—”

“It’s real enough,” you snapped. “I don’t care if you love her or not. I don’t care if it’s just paper. You’re someone else’s, Sunghoon.”

He looked like he’d been punched. “I don’t want it! I choose you.”

“No. You don’t get to choose! You knew this would happen and you let it happen anyway.” Your voice broke then. You didn’t mean for it to, but it came out in a tremble. “Get out.”

He froze. “Please… Don’t do this.”

“Go. Just get the fuck out! Please,” you said, turning away and moving to the corner of the room.

You buried your face in your hands and sobbed, shoulder trembling, voice breaking. You could hear the soft sounds of Sunghoon’s footsteps approaching you, then his hand on your shoulder but you swatted it away.

“Just leave, Hoon!”

He left. And he never came back.

You hadn’t slept. Not really. You’d kept your eyes closed through most of the night, but your mind never let you rest. You could still feel the ghost of his arm around your waist, the weight of his words sitting heavy on your chest.

“And I’m engaged to someone else.”

The sun had fully risen and the ocean looked far too cheerful for how you felt. You opened the door to see Amy’s familiar grin and Lea’s arms already opening for a hug. They were glowing with excitement, sunglasses in their hair, bags slung over their shoulders, and not even an ounce of awareness that your world had collapsed less than twelve hours ago.

“There she is!” Lea beamed, pulling you into a tight squeeze. “God, it smells like citrus and freedom out here. I’m never leaving.”

“You look like you haven’t slept,” Amy said with a teasing frown. “Don’t tell me you and Lover Boy were up all night doing—”

You let out a soft laugh—more exhale than amusement—and stepped aside to let them in.

The massive house felt too full suddenly. Their voices bounced off the walls, light and warm. They talked about the flight, the heat, the funny guy at customs. You listened. Smiled when appropriate. Nodded at all the right times.

It wasn’t until you’d served them fresh juice on the patio that Amy tilted her head and said, “So where is he? You were going to introduce us, right? We were ready for the whole ‘meet the boyfriend’ thing.”

You looked down at your glass, then out at the sea. “He’s not here anymore,” you said quietly. “We’re done.”

Both of them froze. “What?” Amy asked, gently.

“He’s engaged to someone else. Back home. Doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

You didn’t look at them, didn’t want to see the sympathy you knew was coming.

Lea reached across the table and touched your hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed, unwilling to get into the details but wanted to share. “It’s really nothing. We were having a good time and I thought I’m in love with him. Now that he’s gone, I think it was just the moment, you know what I mean?”

Lea tilted her head, looking at you in confusion, but Amy beside her nodded in understanding. “Totally get it. I mean, two beautiful people together in a beautiful island? I’d think I’m in love too,” said Amy.

Lea shook her head. “No. It was serious when you told us about it on the phone. You sounded so…sure.”

“No, darling.” Amy tapped Lea’s cheek gently. “It was the weather. You have no idea how easy it is to mistake good vibes with being in love.”

They argued about it for a while, but they didn’t press. They didn’t ask for more than what you were willing to divulge. They simply shifted the conversation, as if by instinct, pulling you back into safer waters.

But even as they talked about their plans—about beach days and wine nights and helping you with the orchard—you couldn’t help but glance at the seat across from you. The one that had been his just yesterday.

It was supposed to be good day. You were gonna introduce him to Amy and Lea, your best friends, your true family. But that was a bust. And now it was just you again.

But at least you weren’t alone.

The week that followed blurred into a sun-soaked montage of tequila shots, sandy hair, and late-night laughter. With Amy and Lea around, it was impossible to sit still for too long. They pulled you out of the house, out of your head, and out of the quiet grief you hadn’t yet figured out how to deal with.

Amy dragged you away from the village and into the other side of the island where the beaches were packed with tourists, loud music, and overpriced mojitos. You danced barefoot in the sand, lip-synced into beer bottles, flirted with strangers you had no intention of remembering. You let the lights and noise and sea carry you for days—numbed and glowing all at once.

Amy flirted with every fine European men who so much as looked her way. Lea got into a tipsy argument with a street performer about astrology. You laughed so hard you nearly cried.

It didn’t make the pain disappear. But for a little while, it drowned it out.

And then, one afternoon, as you lay on a beach towel by the docks, the sand warm beneath you, skin glowing, a little drunk on Aperol spritz and good company, the sun suddenly vanished from your face.

You blinked up at the abrupt shadow.

And found a man holding an umbrella over your head like a knight with absolutely no armor, just absurd confidence and expensive taste. Linen shirt, half-buttoned. Sunglasses pushed up into dark brown hair. Smirk painted across his face like it had been there since birth.

“Hi there,” he greeted casually, his voice ringing with a familiarity that hit straight in your chest.

You pulled your own sunglasses down your nose and squinted up at him. “What are you doing here, Jay?”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s good to see you too.”

Amy and Lea looked between the two of you like they’d accidentally stepped into a scene from a movie they hadn’t seen the beginning of.

“No, seriously.” You sat up slowly, brushing sand off your legs. “What are you doing here?”

“Official business is concluded, so I’m heading home. But I figured I’d drop anchor for a bit.” He lowered the umbrella handle toward you. “And maybe see a friendly face.”

You blinked at him again, mouth parting slightly. This wasn’t just some coincidence. Jay was here. Jay, with his yacht and smirk and maddening presence, had found you again.

“I knew it was weird when you said we’d be seeing each other again,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

He grinned wider. “Miss me?”

“In your dreams,” you replied, standing up. “How long has it been?”

“Oh, just thirty-three days, give or take,” he shrugged, closing the umbrella. “It’s not like I was counting the days till I see you again,” he added with a grin.

Of course. That was the Jay you knew. Shamelessly flirty, smooth about it, and tries to talk you in sleeping with him every chance he gets. You rolled your eyes and turned to your friends, both still looking clueless. “Oh, these are my girls, Amy and Lea.”

“Hi,” said Lea.

“Lovely to meet you,” said Amy, offering a hand to Jay. “I’ve heard nothing about you,” she added, glancing knowingly at you.

You gave her an apologetic scrunch of your nose.

“Ladies, I’d hate to disturb you, but,” Jay nodded toward the water, past the dock where his boat was glistening under the sun. “How would you like some cocktails on a boat?”

You chuckled at his blatant attempt at impressing your girls. Amy perked up immediately. “A boat? That boat?” she asked, pointing at Jay’s yacht.

“Yes, Ames,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes at Jay. “Did I mention he’s got a yacht?”

Lea was already grabbing her tote. “Let’s go before he changes his mind.”

You shook your head, laughing as Jay offered you a hand up like he was inviting you to a gala. Dramatic, as always. You didn’t take it, but you did follow him, the three of you trailing after him barefoot across the sun-warmed dock.

Amy nudged your arm discreetly. “Who is he?” she whispered.

Lea leaned in on your other side. “He’s hot.”

“Hotter than the fucking sun,” Amy added.

You smirked, keeping your eyes ahead. “He’s just someone I met a while back. He helped me out when I first got stranded here.”

Amy gasped softly. “That’s the boat guy? You never said he looked like that.”

“I barely said anything,” you muttered.

“Exactly,” Lea said. “Suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. Jay was ahead now, glancing back to make sure you were all still following. He tossed you a wink and kept walking.

Amy nudged you again, lower this time. “Okay but for real—are we allowed to flirt with him or is that off-limits?”

You gave her a look. “Behave.”

“Not a no,” she sing-songed.

You sighed dramatically. “He’s a player. If you can handle someone like him, then go ahead.”

They both exchanged a knowing glance. Amy shook her head. “Yeah, no. It’s pretty obvious he came all the way here to see you, specifically.”

You had a small yacht party, just the four of you, plus Manu, Jay’s crew member-slash-silent bartender who somehow knew exactly when to top up a drink or disappear entirely. There were expensive bottles, platters of seafood and fruit laid out by the excellent Sofia, and music drifting softly through the deck speakers. You laughed, drank, danced barefoot under string lights, and watched the sun dip into the sea.

By the time night fell properly, Lea had passed out on one of the long couches, clutching a throw pillow like a lifeline. Amy had disappeared below deck with Manu about thirty minutes ago and hadn’t been seen since.

Which left you, barefoot at the railing, half a drink in hand, ocean breeze blowing your hair, talking to Jay.

“Today, you became Amy and Lea’s favorite person,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him. He was leaning beside you, one arm braced casually against the rail.

He gave a lazy shrug, that usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “As I should be. I did try my best. Although my main guest of honor’s a little harder to impress.”

You chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

He chuckled too, eyes glinting as he looked at you for a long moment. “You look different,” he said. “Not in a bad way. Just… different. Your eyes don’t shine like they did when we met.”

The sudden comment caught you off guard. He smiled and added, “Must’ve been hard for you after I left.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you turned back toward the dark water. “Not at all,” you said. “But… a lot’s happened since then. Been kind of a rough patch lately. Don’t really wanna talk about it. I’ll just bore you.”

He didn’t press. Just nodded, like he understood. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “But for what it’s worth—I know you’ll be fine. You’re the strong, independent type. You don’t need anyone.”

You smiled faintly, touched by the unexpected sincerity.

Then, with perfect Jay timing, he tilted his head and said, “How was it? Am I sweeping you off your feet? Are you considering checking out my suite now?”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Wow. Very subtle, Jay,” you said flatly.

He grinned, shrugging with fake innocence. “Can’t be too forward. You might think I’m desperate to have sex with you.”

That made you laugh, and he watched you with a fond smile on his lips. After a beat, you handed him your empty glass and said, “Lead the way, then.”

He blinked once. Then let out a short breath of disbelief, like he was laughing at his own luck.

“Damn,” he said, cocking his head. “Didn’t think you’d actually bite.”

You raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. “So? Lead the way.”

Jay paused. The smirk was still there, but it faltered a little. He avoided your gaze, then he leaned back just slightly, voice dropping lower.

“Nah,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Can’t mess around with drunk girls. Bad karma.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Still not gonna happen.”

You tilted your head. “That’s your excuse?”

He gave you a crooked grin, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore. “It’s called principle, thanks. I’m being a gentleman for once, but don’t get used to it.”

You stared at him, trying not to laugh at his face. He was flustered. Jay, king of confidence, was caught off guard. He probably hadn’t expected you to actually call him on his bullshit. And now he was scrambling, all cool exterior but twitchy tells.

“Wow,” you teased, enjoying his struggle. “You’re not as smooth as I thought.”

“Well, whatever,” he deadpanned. “I’m gonna go make sure no one’s thrown themselves off the side of the boat.”

And with that, he turned and walked away. You smiled to yourself, shaking your head. Score one for you.

The next day was supposed to be a group outing. Jay had invited all three of you on his boat again, planning a full day of sightseeing, drinks, and whatever else the ocean had in store.

But that morning, when you stepped out in your swimsuit and cover-up, your hair still damp from the shower, Amy and Lea were both lounging on the patio, coffee mugs in hand and suspiciously smug looks on their faces.

“What are you guys doing? We have to go,” you said matter-of-factly.

Amy hummed as she shook her head. “You’re going alone.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You need this, girl,” Lea said simply. “He’s hot. You’re heartbroken. And we’re tired of watching you mope.”

You scoffed indignantly. “I did not mope. When did I—”

“Go,” they said in unison.

So you did.

Jay greeted you with a grin as you boarded his boat, wind tousling his hair and sunglasses perched cockily on his nose.

“No entourage today?” he asked, helping you aboard.

“They bailed,” you said.

He smiled, clearly pleased. “Smart girls.”

The day unfolded like something out of a travel magazine. The sky was endless blue, the sea even more so. He took you to hidden coves and quiet stretches of beach, pointing out rocky cliffs and ancient ruins. You swam in the clearest water you’d ever seen, laughed until your stomach hurt, shared cold drinks and warm glances.

By late afternoon, you were stretched out beside him on the deck, towel beneath you, the sun dipping lower in the sky.

Jay turned his head toward you, that lazy smirk still in place. “I would really be heartbroken once you leave my boat, but I guess it’s worth it if it’s you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Romantic.”

He chuckled. “I can be, if that’s what you’re into.”

You didn’t answer. Just looked at him, lying on his side, head propped on one hand, salt still glistening on his chest and sunglasses perched perfectly on his nose.

“I’ve been dying to be alone with you,” he said quietly.

You didn’t look away. “And now that you are?”

He gave a half-shrug, his smile softening. “Now I’m trying not to fuck it up.”

You smiled, leaned in just a little, and said, “Then don’t.”

It was all the permission he needed. With one swift motion, he hovered over you, his body blocking the sun as he looked down at you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Are you?” you asked back, challenging him. “Or are you gonna get all flustered and adorable for me again?” you added, fingers tracing the curve of his abs.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game here, sweetheart,” he challenged.

“So what? Too hot for you?”

Jay smirked, visibly impressed. His eyes flicked to your lips then briefly back to your eyes before diving in to kiss you. It was warm, salty, sun-drenched. His hand was confident when it landed on your waist, rubbing, feeling. Yours curled into his damp hair as the boat rocked gently beneath you, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Below deck, the second the door shut behind you, Jay had you pressed against it.

He kissed you deep, dirty, all tongue and teeth, his hands greedy as they found your waist and pulled you closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the seawater still drying in patches along his chest, the faint taste of liquor on his tongue. You reached down, tugged on the waistband of his shorts, and he laughed into your mouth.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmured, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth.

You kissed him hard, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he groaned low in his throat as his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you to the bed like you weighed nothing. Your bare legs locked around his hips. Your thighs met the warm sheets and you gasped against his mouth when he bit your lip.

“God, I’ve been thinking about this all fucking day,” he muttered, kissing down your jaw, his hands roaming greedily over your sides. “You're so goddamn sexy when you tease me.”

You tugged at his hair. “When did I do that?”

He smirked into your neck. “You obviously had no idea, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure you feel very, very sorry about it.”

His lips were on you again before the words even registered. Kissing you deep, kissing you slow, until you were squirming beneath him. His hand slid up your thigh, pushed the fabric of your swimsuit aside, and his thumb brushed where you were already soaked.

“Wet and excited,” he muttered. “Just the way I like it.”

“Jay, stop talking and get on it,” you panted, hips chasing his hand.

Jay grinned. “Alright, since you asked nicely.”

You shot him a glare, but it melted fast when he dropped to his knees. Pulled your bottoms off with one fluid motion and threw them somewhere behind him. 

You tipped your head back the moment his mouth touched you, one hand bracing on the counter, the other tugging at his hair again. “Jay—fuck—”

He moaned into you, rough and obscene, like he wanted you to know just how much he was enjoying it. The room was filled with wet, messy sounds, your breathy gasps echoing above it all. You gripped his hair, trying to stay still, but your body had a mind of its own, hips rocking up into his face.

“I can’t—” you choked out, thighs trembling. You came embarrassingly fast, clenching hard around nothing as you gasped his name.

Jay stood and kissed you, still tasting like you, and his hands were already pushing his shorts down. You reached for him, touched him, and he hissed in approval.

“Come here,” he growled, and then you were being turned, hands braced against the mattress, his chest pressing against your back. He slid inside you with a groan so guttural it made your toes curl.

The stretch stole your breath. “Oh, fuck—Jay—”

“God, you feel unreal,” he breathed against your shoulder, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise while the other slipped between your thighs again. “You gonna take it like a good girl or do you want to tell me what to do?”

You tried. You really tried. But every time you opened your mouth, he hit something inside you that made your thoughts scatter.

“Uh-huh,” he chuckled darkly. “That’s what I thought.”

The pace turned relentless. Fast and deep, the sounds of your bodies slapping together echoing off the cabin walls, your breathy moans mixing with his filthy praise. He told you how good you felt, how gorgeous you looked, how he’d been dreaming about this since the day he met you. You cursed, clutched the sheets, back arching, completely unraveling beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, pulling out and flipping you around.

He hovered above you, kissed you slow again, positioning himself between your legs. “You wanna ride me?” he asked, teasing.

You nodded, lips brushing his jaw. “Yeah. I do.”

He rolled onto his back immediately, hands behind his head. “Be my guest.”

It didn’t last long. You straddled him, sank down slowly, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “Jesus Christ—”

You tried to find a rhythm, something steady, but the way he felt inside you—thick, deep, rubbing every spot perfectly—made it impossible. Especially with the way he kept watching you, mouthing filth between clenched teeth, hips bucking up to meet yours.

“You’re so fucking tight—shit—look at you,” he groaned. “If you can only see yourself right now.”

His hands gripped your ass, helping you move, but then he sat up, mouth finding your collarbone, your shoulder, and suddenly he was thrusting up into you, hard and fast, stealing every ounce of composure you had left.

You clung to him, moaning shamelessly as he fucked you from below, his voice rough in your ear. “That’s it, baby. Come on.”

You did, again, harder than before—crying out as you clenched down around him, lightheaded and spiraling in euphoria.

Jay swore under his breath, then flipped you onto your back in one fluid motion. “One more,” he rasped, driving back into you, not giving you time to catch your breath. “You’ve got one more in you, don’t you?”

You didn’t even answer. Just held on tight, nails digging into his back as he slammed into you, rough, messy, perfect. He kissed you through it, swore again when he felt you start to come undone, and then with one final thrust, he spilled into you, gasping your name against your mouth.

The silence after was satisfying. Heavy with heat and broken by his occasional grunts and your panting. You stayed tangled, sweaty and half-laughing, while he buried his face in your neck and caught his breath.

“Well,” he said eventually, voice hoarse. “I’m amazing, aren’t I?”

That made you laugh. “You’re alright.”

He laughed and kissed your shoulder. “Okay, liar,” he quipped before rolling onto the bed beside you.

You said goodbye to Jay at the dock, the same spot he’d first said goodbye to you after taking you to this place. He helped your friends load their bags onto his yacht, cracked a joke about how he wasn’t running a taxi service, and kissed you once—quick and easy, no lingering promises. You smiled at him, genuine and grateful, and then he was gone, taking the laughter and chaos and comfort with him.

And just like that, you were alone.

You hadn’t truly been alone since you arrived in France. Jake had been with you in Paris on your first day, cute and shy. Sunghoon was on this island the day you got here, charming and kind, offering you help and himself. When he left, your friends arrived with wine and sunhats, and then Jay swept in like a storm, all noise and heat. But now the house was truly empty. You hadn’t expected the silence to feel so loud.

For a while, you didn’t do much. You walked around barefoot, let the days pass lazily, ate too much fruit, and stared at the ocean. You were scared, not of the house, not of the work ahead, but of the loneliness. You’d never admitted that before. But there it was, pressing into your chest like it intended to suffocate you.

Still, you carried on.

Since you didn’t have the finances to convert the mansion into a guesthouse yet, you found work in town. Mornings were spent in a café near the harbor, brewing coffee and scribbling names on cups that always got smudged. Tourists liked you, maybe because you smiled even when you were tired, or maybe because you looked like a tourist yourself if one would take away the uniform and the beret.

At night, you waited tables at corner street restaurant, where the wine was relatively pricey and the seafood never disappointed. The hours were long, but the pay was fair, and the staff became familiar. You didn’t tell them much about yourself, just that you were from a small village a few miles away and saving up for something big.

You kept working on your plans when you got home—sketching interior designs, tallying costs, researching permits and licensing. Some nights you fell asleep with your laptop still open on your stomach. Other nights you walked down to the beach alone, letting the cool sand soothe your body and mind.

It wasn’t a glamorous life. But it was good.

And slowly, you started to feel less fragile. You didn’t miss Sunghoon, not exactly. What you missed was the closeness, the feeling of someone else’s warmth in the bed beside you, the distraction from your thoughts. But you were proud of yourself too. You were building something. Even if it wasn’t a hotel yet, even if it was just a new version of yourself.

Two months passed like that.

Work, sleep, plan, repeat. The days folded into each other like pages in a worn book—some soft and golden, others heavy with fatigue. You had slipped into a routine without realizing it. Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice at first.

Your period was late.

It didn’t hit you until one morning at the café, when the espresso machine was hissing in the background and a wave of nausea hit you out of nowhere. You brushed it off, blaming the heat. But the feeling stayed until you had to leave because you couldn’t take it anymore without throwing up. 

And then came the other things. The tenderness, the fatigue, the strange aversion to the smell of coffee that made your coworkers laugh but made your stomach turn.

You tried not to spiral. Maybe it was stress. You’d read that stress could delay periods. You'd been busy and tired. But still, something gnawed at you. So you had to check. 

On afternoon, after your shift ended early, you walked into a clinic two towns over, where no one knew your name. You filled out the form with shaky hands and let the nurse lead you through the halls, your heart racing in your chest.

And then came the results that were impossible to misunderstand.

You were pregnant.

When you stepped back outside, the world was too bright, the sound of cicadas were roaring in your ears. You sat on a bench just outside the building, phone clutched in your hand but no one to call.

Because now came the real question: Who? Which one?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of it. The possibility had been there, but hearing the confirmation made it real. And now your mind spiraled through the summer like a montage, playing back every moment, every night, every touch.

Jake. Sunghoon. Jay.

You weren’t reckless. It wasn’t about that. You had been careful—or at least you thought you had. But the lines blurred in your memory now, and all you were left with was the truth.

You were carrying a child, and you didn’t know who the father was.

You sat there for a long time. Just breathing. A little girl passed by holding her mother’s hand, chattering about ice cream. A breeze lifted your hair. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed.

And you were still sitting. Still not sure what came next. But that night, you knew you needed to call Amy and Lea.

“This is why I always tell you to wrap it up,” Amy said immediately.

Neither of them knew what to say at first. You didn’t blame them. It wasn’t exactly news you could prepare them for.

“The raw way might be toe-curling, head-spinningly amazing,” Amy went on, “but it’s not worth it if it’s gonna get you knocked up out of wedlock.”

Lea scoffed audibly on the other line. “Shut up, Ames. You’re the one who always said condoms are cock-blockers and everyone should experience the ‘sheer delight’ of raw sex at least once.”

“I meant once, not—” Amy cut herself off. “Okay, never mind. We’re not talking about me.”

“You’re literally always talking about you.”

“Lea.”

“Sorry, sorry. Focus,” Lea said, clearing her throat. “So who do you think is the father?”

“Park Jay?” Amy ventured.

“Or Park Sunghoon,” Lea added. “You did say he was hot and brooding and emotionally intense, right? That sounds like potent baby-daddy energy.”

“Mm,” Amy mused. “But Jay has the boat and the abs. I’m leaning Jay.”

“Oh my god. It doesn’t matter. They’re both Parks, our baby will get the same surname regardless of who the father is,” Lea said excitedly.

You sighed. “Guys.”

“Don’t ‘guys’ us,” Amy said. “You invited us into the drama, now let us live in it.”

“Okay, but there’s someone else…”

They both went quiet. “...Don’t tell me you slept with someone else after Jay left?” Amy finally said.

You winced. “Actually, it was before. I met a guy name Jake Sim in Paris. Before coming to Corsica. Things happened.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then both of them erupted in squeals. 

“Three guys in just one summer?” Amy shrieked.

Lea was laughing. “You are an icon. How does it feel to be the main character of an erotic French film?”

“I feel nauseous,” you muttered.

“Pregnancy symptom,” Amy deadpanned.

“I’m serious,” you said, running a hand over your face. “What if it was Jake and I was just insane this whole time? Like, genuinely hormonal and insane. What if that’s why I got so swept up with Sunghoon? I couldn’t keep my hands off him. Maybe I was already pregnant then. Maybe I wasn’t even in love—just horny and mental.”

“Hormones do make you horny,” Amy said thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to fall in lust under the influence of progesterone.”

“No, girl. You cried over him,” Lea reminded gently. “And you don’t really cry over guys unless it’s real.”

“Yeah, but pregnant women are crazy women. How would I know what’s real and what’s not?” you whispered. “I just thought it was love but then it wasn’t. It was just me being reckless and careless and—”

“Babe,” Amy cut in. “I know what you’re doing. You’re denying that it was real. Even if it was love and even if it wasn’t, you’re allowed to have feelings. You don’t need to justify your heartbreak to anyone. Especially not to yourself.”

You were quiet for a second. “Thanks, Ames.”

Amy added, “And I still say it’s Jay. Sunghoon probably pulls out. He sounds like a good guy. Good guys pull out.”

“Oh my god,” Lea said, cracking up. “On that note, I’m hanging up before Amy gives this baby a horoscope reading.”

“Wait, I totally should—”

Click. You stared at your phone, smiling faintly.

And then you weren’t smiling. You were just sitting again, alone in your big bedroom. A child growing inside you. A thousand things left to figure out. But at least you had friends who made you laugh along the way.

You didn’t know what to do at first. The test had been positive, the signs were there, but your thoughts had scattered into every direction at once. You considered everything—your finances, your future. Your pride.

The sheer humiliation of having to call any of the three men, let alone all of them. What would you even say? That you had a summer full of crap decisions and now needed help guessing which one was the father?

No. Just the idea made you shrink into yourself.

You kept the secret close to your chest, rolling it over and over, sleepless nights spent making pro and con lists in your head. You had reasons—dozens of them—for why you couldn’t keep the baby. And everytime you came close to making the call, to booking the appointment, something stopped you.

And then it was too late to even consider it.

You gave birth to a healthy baby girl in a cool winter night, with the help of kind women in the village who knew what to do. They guided you through labor with gentle hands and wisdom, and when you finally held your daughter in your arms, all the noise in your head quieted down.

Your daughter was perfect. Warm and pink and wailing, with one little fist curled around your finger.

You named her together. Amy and Lea had flown in as quickly as they could, flustered and crying and loud as ever, and from that moment on, the baby was theirs too. Theirs and the village’s, because it really did take a village to raise a child. The baker who always snuck pastries into her bag. Old man Jean-Luc who carved a cradle. The innkeeper who watched the baby when you picked up extra shifts.

The little girl grew into a sweet, curious child with wide eyes and smart wit. Everyone said she looked just like you. You were near-twins, people would say, shaking their heads fondly. 

“She’s your spitting image. Her dad’s genes didn’t even try!”

You raised your daughter with love. You taught her to be soft with the world but never small. To be good but not naive. To be strong but not unkind.

Meanwhile, you built the bed and breakfast from the ground up—slowly, with scraped knees and secondhand furniture, but with pride. It was small but beautiful. Cozy but polished. Tourists came, then returned, drawn by the warmth of the place and the magic of the island.

It wasn’t always easy—there were long nights, missed opportunities, tired tears—but it was yours. And you were happy.

Not the kind of happy that came with a man’s hands around your waist or whispered promises in the dark. The kind that looked like laughter over breakfast, like sun-dried sheets, like a child’s muddy footprints on a kitchen floor.

You didn’t need a man, and neither did your daughter. You had built a life of your own and it was enough.

“Mommy! Someone’s here!” your daughter called from the front door.

You had two hours left before guests would arrive for her birthday party. You were in the kitchen icing cupcakes when the doorbell rang, so you called out for her to answer it, assuming it was a parent dropping off a gift early—or Amy and Lea showing up with something too big to carry alone.

“I’ll be right out!” you called, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you jogged toward the front, hair tied up in a bun, frosting smudged on your arm. “Who is it, honey?”

You froze the moment you saw who she was staring at.

Standing on your porch were three men you hadn’t seen in years.

Jake, in a navy blue suit and tie, holding a bouquet of flowers. Jay, sunglasses perched on his head, casual as ever but visibly hesitant. And Sunghoon, his expression unreadable, eyes flicking from your face to the hand you’d unconsciously placed on your daughter’s shoulder.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Then you let out a stunned, almost exasperated laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[the end... or is it?]

[ikeuwoniee]

MANCHILD

➢ pairing: cowboy!jake x fem!reader … ﹒cowboy au, strangers to lovers, smut \\ ➢ synopsis: you’re trouble, and jake sim knows it. you flirt like it’s your job, wear sin like perfume, and make men beg without even trying. he’s the only cowboy who doesn’t chase you. so naturally, he’s the only one you want. a small-town, slow-burn, filthy little game of who breaks first. ➢ word count: 9.5k

➢ warnings: smut!! minors dni. oral sex (f and m receiveing), unprotected sex (dont do it!!), public-ish sex, dirty talk, possessive!jake, softdom!jake, bratty!reader, spanking, cum eating, praise and degradation, cowboy kink™, jake is a menace but so are you, yeehaw but make it slutty

you’re wiping down the counter when you say it, voice low and lazy, like it’s just another tuesday night and not the kind of sentence that rearranges a man’s brain chemistry.

“i like my boys playing hard to get.”

you don’t mean it to land anywhere in particular. you’re just talking, tossing it out there between gossip, your voice sweet, meant only for the girl beside you. so she laughs, nudges you with her hip. “you mean the ones who ghost you after three days?”

“no,” you sigh, stretching like a cat behind the bar. “i mean the ones who pretend they don’t care. the ones too proud to beg. makes it more fun when they do.”

you say it like it’s a joke, but you mean every word. and across the room, jake sim hears you.

he hadn’t meant to. hadn’t even realized he was eavesdropping until the words tangled around him. he’s not the type to pay attention to chatter. he’s been coming to this place for years, knows how to tune out the flirting and the country drawls and the clink of empty glasses. but your voice is different. and he’s seen you around, of course. everyone has.

you’re the kind of girl people build myths around. the kind they write country songs about, because you have a laugh that could ruin a man. and every guy in town’s tried his luck. most ended up a little poorer, a little dumber, and twice as obsessed. and you never even blinked.

so when you breeze past his table, tray balanced on your palm, perfume trailing like a challenge, jake doesn’t move. doesn’t shift, doesn’t look up from his drink. not obviously, at least. he doesn’t give you the satisfaction. and you notice. oh, you notice. because you’re used to stares, to whistles and clumsy compliments and boys who fall over themselves to hand you things you never asked for. you’re used to the way they sit up straighter when you walk by, the way their words fumble out of their mouths like dropped coins.

but this one? this one just sits there. quiet and unmoved.

you catch him watching only once, just once, when you lean forward to grab a bottle from the bottom shelf, and when your eyes flick up, his are already somewhere else. not pretending, not faking it, just gone. and it pisses you off more than it should.

you don’t say anything. you just toss your hair over your shoulder and smile at the other girl again, louder this time. “i like my men all incompetent,” you declare, tucking a dollar into your apron, “and i swear they choose me, i’m not choosing them.”

jake lifts his beer to his lips, slow. doesn’t smile. doesn’t even smirk. and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel in control of the game. you hate that, but you also love that.

but you definitely hate rodeos.

too loud and sweaty. too many men with too little brain and too much cologne. it’s just the same loop every time—horses, hats, hollering, and someone calling you “sweet cheeks” like that’s supposed to make you blush instead of gag. normally, you stay far away. but tonight’s different. because you heard jake sim was riding.

so you show up. late, of course, on purpose. your boots crunch over dirt and beer cans as you make your way through the crowd, hips swinging just enough to remind everyone you don’t walk, you arrive. every man you pass straightens his spine like you might look at him if he behaves, and every woman rolls her eyes in that half-jealous way they always do.

but you don’t care. you’re not here for them. you’re here for the man on the horse.

and when you spot him, out in the pen, one hand gripping the reins, the other resting light against his thigh, you feel that slow, low flutter in your stomach that tastes a little like trouble. because he’s wearing that stupid hat again, the same beat-up one that sits just low enough to make his eyes a mystery and his mouth a promise. his shirt’s rolled up to the elbows, collar unbuttoned, forearms dusted with dirt and sin. he looks like sin. he rides like sin.

you lean against the fence, pop a piece of gum into your mouth, and pretend you’re not watching. but you are, everyone is. but he doesn’t look into the crowd, not once. he doesn’t wave, doesn’t show off, doesn’t even smile. he just focuses—on the gate, on the bull, on the seconds ticking down before the chaos. there’s something precise about it, almost like he’s not here to perform, just to win.

and you hate how hot that is.

when the gate finally opens and he bursts out, body moving like he’s part of the beast beneath him, the whole crowd goes wild. people scream, hats fly, beer spills. but you just chew your gum and watch. he holds on longer than anyone else that night. and when he lands, smooth and sharp and smug, your stomach does a traitorous little flip.

he still doesn’t look at you. not even when he walks past, later, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt sticking to his back, sweat dripping down his neck like something out of a country girl’s fantasy.

you’re standing by the concession stand now, pretending to look at overpriced chili fries when he walks right past you again. and for the first time, maybe in ever, you don’t know what to do with that. because everyone looks at you. everyone wants something from you.

but jake sim? jake sim doesn’t even blink.

you pop your gum again, louder than necessary. he still doesn’t turn. bastard. so you lick your lips, tilt your head, and mutter just loud enough for the girl next to you to hear—just loud enough for him to maybe hear, too— “god, i hate cowboys.”

except you don’t. you really, really don’t.

so you decide to wear red on saturday. not a soft red. not a muted, tasteful, wine-country red. no, this is bright, dangerous, stop-sign red. the kind that glitters when you walk and blasphemes when you bend. you slip it on slow, knowing exactly what it does to your body and your ego. it’s the kind of dress that starts fights and finishes them.

you don’t wear it for him, not technically. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t check your lipstick twice before heading to the bar, or if you hadn’t spent a good three minutes wondering if jake sim was the type of man who noticed sequins.

(it turns out—he isn’t.)

he’s already there when you walk in, sitting in his usual corner like a piece of furniture carved from patience and denim. same hat, same shirt, same maddeningly blank expression. he doesn’t flinch when you walk by. doesn’t scan your legs like every other man. doesn’t lean over to whisper something to his friend and then laugh too loud. he just looks. once. and then looks away.

you could scream. instead, you smile. you spend the next hour putting on a show—not for him, of course, never that. just for… the atmosphere. you take extra time leaning over the bar. you laugh a little louder, let your fingers trail longer. you flirt, you twirl, you dance like you’re made of sugar and smoke.

and he just sits there. solid. steady and stoic in the face of sin.

when the jukebox shifts to something slow and sweaty, your friend pulls you out from behind the bar and spins you onto the floor. you go willingly, you always do. you dance with her, and then with some other guy, who’s a terrible flirt but a decent dancer. you laugh as you move, hips swaying, hands up, hair stuck to your neck. people cheer, whistles echo. someone shouts your name.

and still, jake sim doesn’t look. he sits there, beer untouched, fingers drumming slowly against the table. his eyes are on the wall, or the floor, or nowhere at all. you want to throw a chair at him. instead, you press your body just a little closer, let your head tip back, your laughter bubble out like champagne. 

and for half a second, just half, you swear you can feel his gaze. but by the time you glance over, it’s gone.

you finish the dance anyway, cheeks flushed from effort or ego or something worse, and when you walk past jake’s table again, you pause. just enough. he still doesn’t say anything. but his knuckles are white around the bottle, and that’s something.

and ​​you’re not much of a smoker, not really. it’s more about the image. the ritual of it—door swinging shut behind you, the hum of the saloon dulling into background noise, a lighter flicked slowly. you like the weight of the cigarette between your fingers, the way it makes your mouth look meaner. you especially like the way people look at you when you do it.

on sunday, though, the sidewalk is mostly empty. the neon sign above the door buzzes like it’s dying, and your heels click against the pavement. you’re alone, almost. because he’s there. leaning against his truck—of course it’s a truck, stupid and long and matte black— arms crossed, hat low, chewing on a toothpick like he was placed there by god.

you try not to look. but of course you fail.

“you always stand like that,” you say, taking a drag and blowing smoke sideways, “or is this a special occasion?”

he doesn’t turn, god, he doesn’t even smile. “like what?” he asks, voice low and scratchy, like he only uses it when necessary.

you flick ash toward the gravel and shift your weight, one hip out, just enough to suggest: i am here and i am wearing very little. so you say: “like you’re being painted,” you say. “by someone too obsessed with denim.”

that gets a reaction, barely—a twitch at the corner of his mouth. nothing close to a smile, but you count it anyway. “you don’t like denim?” he asks.

“i like it just fine,” you say, letting your eyes travel up and down. “i just think it likes you a lot.”

he hums, quiet and unfazed. the toothpick shifts from one side of his mouth to the other with devastating nonchalance. “you always flirt like that?” he asks finally, and it’s almost cruel, the way he says it—like he’s calling you out without even looking at you.

you tilt your head. “like what?”

“like you’re bored.”

you take another drag, slower this time. it buys you a second. maybe two. “i’m not bored,” you say. “i’m offended.”

he finally looks at you then. really looks. not a glance, not a flick of the eyes, but a slow, full scan that starts at your boots and ends at your mouth. “offended?”

“yeah,” you say. “you’re the first man in town who hasn’t tried to get a shot with me.”

he raises an eyebrow. your breath hitches, and you curse yourself for it. because god damn it. he pushes off the truck, and he steps forward, just one step, just close enough for you to smell him. smoke and leather and desert heat. “that why you came out here?” he asks. “to collect another admirer?”

“no,” you say, a little too quickly. “i came out to smoke.”

he nods, glances at your cigarette. “you’re holding it backwards.”

you look down, you are. shit.

he walks past you then, amused and infuriatingly tall, back toward the saloon. and just before the door swings shut behind him, he tosses the toothpick into the dirt and says, without looking: “you’ll have better luck with someone who gives a damn, sweetheart.”

you stand there for a minute, blinking smoke out of your eyes, lips parted in disbelief, cigarette still backwards in your hand. you don’t know whether to chase him or marry him. probably both.

the annual summer festival happens a week later, and the whole town’s lost its damn mind. kids run wild, drunk uncles argue, and there’s a man singing country ballads off-key on the main.

and you look stunning, obviously.  short dress, boots too clean to be from here, a pair of sunglasses you don’t need but wear anyway. you walk through the crowd like you’re not sweating like everyone else. and your arm? it’s linked tightly through lee heeseung’s. the sheriff’s son. walking cologne bottle. he thinks calling women “sugar tits” is flirtation and not a felony. you smile like he’s the most charming thing this town’s ever coughed up. and across the lot, jake sees everything.

he’s standing near the fence, drink in hand, chewing on his pride. he looks like a warning sign, his arms crossed so tight his biceps look like they’re planning a mutiny. he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t even pretend not to be watching. you glance at him once, and once is enough.

you laugh louder. lean closer to heeseung, who’s talking about god-knows-what—his truck, his workout, his daddy’s badge—and you nod like you care. every move is calculated. every smile is a weapon. because you know exactly what you’re doing. so you excuse yourself after a while, muttering something about needing another drink, slipping away from heeseung before he can say something else that’ll make your ears bleed. you walk through the back, your boots clicking fast.

you’re halfway to the bar when you feel a heat at your back. 

“fun night?” his voice is behind you. dry and quiet. 

you don’t turn around right away. you let the moment hang. and then you say, “depends,” running a hand through your hair like it’s not dripping down your neck. “you havin’ fun watching?”

he steps in closer. you feel him before you see him, his chest just a breath away from your shoulder. “you always hang off men you don’t like?” he asks, voice low enough to make your knees consider collapsing.

you shrug. “what makes you think i don’t like him?”

“you’re bored. i know what you look like when you’re havin’ fun.”

you hate how that line makes your stomach twist. hate it more that he’s right. so you finally turn to face him, hands on your hips, head tilted with mock sweetness. “what, jealous?”

he laughs. it’s short and dark. “of lee heeseung?” he scoffs. “sweetheart, i’m jealous of his dog before i’m jealous of him.”

you bite your lip to hide the smile, and you fail. “then why are you here?” you ask, eyes locking onto his. 

he leans in, just enough to make you dizzy. his gaze dips—down your lips, down your throat, down your dress—and lingers there, shameless. he looks like he wants to say more. or do more. and you kind of wish he would. but instead, he straightens up, steps back, and lets the space between you fill with heat again.

“because, darling, next time you wanna get under someone’s skin,” he says, “maybe pick a man who ain’t wearin’ daddy’s badge.”

and just like that, he turns and walks off. no touch. not even a goddamn smirk. you’re left standing there, pulse racing, drink forgotten, mouth parted like a woman halfway to disaster.

you fan yourself with your hand, mutter to no one, “fuck my life.”

and over the next few weeks, jake sim makes a habit out of losing his mind quietly.

he tells himself he’s just thirsty. that’s the only reason he keeps showing up to the saloon. he tells himself that every night he parks that stupid truck in the same stupid spot and walks through the same door into the same bar where you’re working, and where you, lately, won’t even look at him.

and that’s what kills him. because you used to look. all big eyes and evil little smiles, like you were constantly cooking up something sinful and he was the poor bastard about to taste it.

but now? now you barely glance in his direction. you walk past him like he’s just another part of the furniture. take other tables. pour drinks with your back to him. laugh at other men’s jokes.

and jake watches silently. desperately. he tries not to, he really does. but his eyes betray him every time. they flick to you the second you walk by—legs bare, hair pulled back with a pen, lips glossed to hell. you smell like vanilla and cigarette smoke, and it’s infuriating how much he wants to bite that smell off your throat.

and the worst part is that he knows you’re doing it on purpose. because sometimes, just sometimes, he catches the way your mouth twitches when you pass his table. the way you shift your weight a little slower, lean over a little further when you’re grabbing something. and when he doesn’t look up—when he pretends not to notice—you bite your lip like you’re trying not to laugh.

you’re playing hard to get. which is adorable, really. but it works. fuck, it works.

jake sim, who’s spent most of his adult life being aggressively unbothered, now sits at this bar like a man possessed. he sips beer and imagines things he shouldn’t. he watches your mouth wrap around straws and thinks about how it’d look wrapped around something else entirely. he stares at your hands pouring drinks and thinks about them fisting in his shirt, pressed against his belt, sliding down—

he coughs. shifts in his seat. takes another sip and pretends like he’s not half hard just because you leaned against the fridge five minutes ago.

he doesn’t talk to you. hasn’t, since the festival. because that would mean giving in. and if there’s one thing jake sim is worse at than feelings, it’s losing. but god, the way you walk? the way you smile at the wrong people? the way you drop the occasional “cowboy” into a sentence like it’s not meant to ruin him?

it’s almost sweet, the way you’re trying to get under his skin. but also: it’s working. and he thinks, not for the first time, that if you asked—if you looked at him a certain way—he’d let you wreck his entire life. you could tie him to the back of his own truck, spit on his mouth, call him useless in front of god and the sheriff, and he’d probably thank you. 

but you don’t look at him anymore. you just brush past him one more time, close enough for your skirt to kiss his knee, and say to no one in particular, real sweet: “why so sexy if so dumb?”

and jake swears to god he’s gonna start a bar fight just to calm down.

but the moment you step onto the dirt lot of the fairgrounds, sundress fluttering and sunglasses perched high on your nose, his brain short-circuits. ​​he sees you the second you walk in. he pretends not to, of course. jake sim has made an olympic sport out of pretending you don’t exist. but you’re here, again. and he’s fucked. 

he’s in the chute, adjusting his gloves, boots already caked in dust, chest strapped down tight like it might explode. he tells himself to focus on the ride, on the bull, on anything but the way your thighs are peeking out from under that goddamn dress.

you shouldn’t be here. he was hoping you’d show up, obviously, but now that you’re actually here, it feels like a setup. like god’s decided to make him fail in front of everyone and look good doing it. so he refuses to look directly at you. not while you’re standing near the fence, leaning against the railing like you’re modeling for the “ruin a man” calendar. not while you’re laughing at something some poor bastard just said, tossing your hair over your shoulder. and certainly not when you suck on that red snow cone.

he adjusts his hat lower. counts backward from ten. tries to remember how to breathe.

he’s still got it under control—mostly—until the moment he’s mounting the bull and glances toward the crowd just once. just a peek. and there you are, watching, with your lip between your teeth and a look that could sterilize holy water.

he slips. just a little. just enough for one boot to miss its mark and his hand to falter on the rope. no one notices. not really. but he does.

the ride still goes fine. better than fine, actually. he makes it the full eight seconds, lands smooth, wipes the sweat off his brow like he’s not a mess on the inside. like he didn’t almost fall off a 1,500-pound animal because you were licking syrup off your finger.

later, after the noise dies down, after the dust settles and the crowd starts dispersing into beer and music and gossip, you find him. he’s near the back of the stables, away from the noise. hat off, hair damp, shirt sticking to his back in places that make your hands twitch.

you lean against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted. he sees you coming. of course he does.

you don’t say anything right away. just look him over like you’re checking for bruises. “didn’t fall this time,” you say.

“not for lack of tryin’,” he mutters.

you raise an eyebrow. “the bull or me?”

he doesn’t answer. you take that as a win. so you step closer, slow. toe the dirt with your boot, pretend to be casual. but everything about you tonight is a performance, and he knows it. the cherry lip gloss. the dress with buttons that strain when you breathe. the way you keep shifting your weight like your thighs are begging for attention. you’re trying to get to him, and you are. but he’ll die before he admits it.

“you always ride that well,” you say, voice syrupy and cruel, “or was that just for me?”

“don’t flatter yourself, darlin’.”

“too late,” you grin. “flattered myself the whole way here.”

he laughs at that, but he still doesn’t move. you take another step. now you’re in front of him, barely a breath of air between your bodies. the tension crackles, like something’s about to snap. he looks down at you, his jaw tight, eyes darker than usual. you could kiss him, you could push him. you could drop to your knees and he wouldn’t stop you. but he stays still. and you know what that means. he’s losing it. slowly and deliciously.

so you just smile, all teeth and trouble, and say: “you gonna say thank you for coming, or do i gotta leave and come back so you can do it right?”

he looks down at you and decides—fuck it. if this is a game, he’s gonna play. so his hand lifts. two fingers hook lazily in your belt in your dress, just enough to make your breath hitch and your knees forget how to behave. he doesn’t pull, doesn’t tug, just lets it sit there. you blink up at him like you weren’t expecting him to do this. because you weren't.

“thought you came to watch the ride,” he says, voice like gravel and heat. “didn’t know you were hopin’ to start one.”

you’re stunned for a second, flustered. but you recover fast. your hand comes up, trailing a single finger down the buttons of his shirt, slowly. and you giggle. you say nothing, you only giggle and smile. then you step back, leaving him standing there with nothing but the smell of your perfume and a growing problem in his jeans. he blinks once. twice. and you’re already gone.

a few days later, he sees you again at the gas station. you’re sitting on the hood of your car. your car is pink, of course it’s pink. girly in that deadly way. floral air freshener, fuzzy dice, a sparkly steering wheel cover and a bumper sticker that probably says something like “yee-haw, bitch.”

you’re licking a cherry lollipop. wearing the tiniest pair of shorts known to mankind and a tank top that does nothing to hide your agenda. your legs are crossed, one foot bouncing lazily in the air like you have nowhere to be and every intention of being stared at. and people are staring. two guys walk by, heads snapping so fast they nearly sprain something. an old man in a tractor cap gives a long, disapproving look that lasts until he crashes into a trash can.

you? you smile sweetly. wave. keep sucking on that lollipop like you’re not ruining lives. and jake watches from the far pump, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying so hard not to enjoy the sight of you doing exactly what you do best.

and then, just like you’ve sensed him from across the lot, you slide off the hood, sway your hips across the concrete, and approach him with the most dangerous sentence in your arsenal: “cowboy,” you say, “i think i got a flat.”

he raises an eyebrow. looks at your car. no flat. you grin like the liar you are. “could you check for me?” you ask, voice all syrup and fake innocence. “i’d do it myself, but—” you shrug, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “i don’t wanna chip a nail.”

he stares at you and you stare back. he knows what this is. you want him on his knees. and god help him—he’s thinking about it.

“you sure?” he says, tone dry. “seems like you’re the type to pop a tire just to see what crawls out the woodwork.”

“you caught me,” you beam. 

he sighs, but he walks over anyway. you trail behind, delighted, watching him crouch down in front of your car, like he is your personal cowboy-themed thirst trap come to life. he’s in front of you, all strong hands and dirty jeans, touching your tires like it’s a performance.

you lean back against the hood. cross your legs the other way. suck louder on the lollipop, just to be mean. and jake knows the tire’s fine, he also knows he’s losing. and when he looks up—sweat on his brow, eyes half-lidded, gaze landing right between your crossed legs—you don’t say a word. you just smile and keep chewing. you got what you wanted: him on his knees.

and it happens on a thursday. the saloon’s half-full, sticky with the usual noise, and you’ve got a tray in one hand. you spot him before he sees you. or maybe he lets you think that. he’s sitting at the bar, same stool as always. sipping something dark with his hat tipped low and one leg stretched out like the floor belongs to him. he’s talking to someone, a girl you don’t recognize, leaning in just enough to make your stomach twist.

he’s smiling. he never smiles, at least not like that. and that’s when it hits you: he’s doing it on purpose.

your first instinct is to roll your eyes. your second is to walk over there and ruin both their nights. instead, you drop off your tray at the counter, smooth your skirt, and remind yourself that you’re not bothered. not even a little. so you circle around the bar, busy yourself with orders. chat with a guy in a cowboy hat, laugh too loud, lean too close. and eventually, you feel that static buzz that only comes from being watched.

you turn your head, and of course he’s looking. not just looking, jake is devouring. his eyes trail down your legs, up your hips, pause at your chest like he’s making a list of crimes he’d commit if the sheriff weren’t his boss’s daddy. and your heart stutters, your mouth dries. you take a step toward him before you even realize it.

but then he gets up and walks past you, doesn’t say a word. and you think, what the hell?

but then his hand brushes yours, just barely. like an accident that wasn’t an accident. you whip around to say something sharp, but he’s already halfway to the door. and you follow. you don’t mean to, really, but you do. you catch him near the back hallway, one hand braced against the wall, like he knew you’d come after him.

you open your mouth to say something clever, but he steps in real close. close enough that your back hits the wall and your knees almost collapse. “somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” he asks, voice all silk.

“what was that?” you hiss, trying not to stare at his mouth. “flirting with that girl like i wasn’t in the room?”

he smirks. smirks. “didn’t know i needed permission.”

you cross your arms. push your chest up just enough to be annoying. “you’re playing games.”

he shrugs. “so are you.” his hand lifts, not to touch you (the bastard’s too good for that), but to brush a piece of lint off your shoulder. “you looked a little jealous,” he murmurs, voice dipped in sin. “cute look on you.”

your pulse stutters, but you refuse to show it. “you’re gonna die alone,” you say, breathier than intended.

“probably,” he says. “but not before i ruin you first.”

you suck in a breath. his face is right there, close enough that if you leaned forward, you’d taste the whiskey on his lips. you think he might do it, you think maybe this is it. but he doesn’t kiss you. instead, he leans in slow, his breath hot against your cheek, then presses a kiss right there, soft and warm and maddening. the kind of kiss that doesn’t take anything but still leaves you ruined.

then he pulls back. smirking, so smug and infuriating. “goodnight, sweetheart,” he says. and then he walks away, like he didn’t just light a fire in your chest and leave it burning.

and there’s a party on the edge of town on that week—somebody’s cousin’s birthday or maybe just an excuse to drink next to a fire. there’s music blasting out of speakers in the back of a lifted truck, people doing shots, and you’re there, of course, making every poor bastard lose his mind just by existing.

you’re wearing denim shorts and a little white top that ties in the front, and jake sim wants to fight the concept of clothing for making something that looks that illegal.

he sees you before you see him. and he sees heeseung before you do. pretty boy with too-white teeth and too many opinions about his own biceps. he’s been in love with you since high school and never got the hint. but tonight, you’re letting him talk. you’re laughing, you’re standing close. and you don’t even have to look across the fire to know jake’s watching.

you toss your hair over your shoulder. heeseung says something about his new truck and how it “purrs like a mountain cat,” which isn’t a thing, but you smile anyway. you’re about to make some flirty comment just to push it further when a hand wraps around your arm.

not rough, not mean, just firm. you whip around and there he is. jake. his face is unreadable. calm, almost. but his grip says something else entirely.

you blink. “well, hey there, cowboy—”

“walk,” he says.

you try to act annoyed, dramatic. “what if i don’t feel like—”

“walk.”

so you do. he leads you away from the fire, away from the crowd, toward the gravel lot where his truck is. you expect him to say something, yell, maybe. accuse you of something dramatic and delicious. but instead, he spins you around and presses you up against the passenger door.

his hand is still on your arm. the other braces beside your head. his body doesn’t touch yours, not really, but he’s close enough that you can feel the heat off his skin and the tension coiled under it. you blink up at him, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “is this how you treat all your women, cowboy? dragging them into parking lots and pinning them to cars?”

“no,” he says. “just the ones who know better.”

you gasp softly, it’s almost a laugh. “oh, so now you’re mad?”

he leans in, mouth inches from yours, eyes dark and hungry. “you wore that top on purpose.”

you smirk. “maybe i was hot.”

he looks down, pointedly. “you are. and you know what you’re doin’.”

“do i?”

he exhales sharp through his nose, like he’s trying not to combust. and when he speaks again, his voice is lower. “you really want him to touch you? that what you’re lookin’ for?”

you blink slow and wet your lips. “maybe i just want somebody who actually does it.”

the look on his face shifts just slightly. then he leans in. you think this time it’ll happen, finally, the kiss, the collapse. the moment the game ends. but instead, his lips graze your jaw, not your mouth. his hand dips low, fingers brushing the hem of your shorts like he’s thinking about it.

“you don’t want ‘somebody,’” he whispers. “you want me.” you’re not breathing. he pulls back again, just enough to leave you gasping in the space between what was almost and what still isn’t. “but you’ll have to beg, sweetheart,” he adds, smirking. “and i don’t think you’re ready to do that yet.”

he turns like he’s going to walk away again, like that’s the last word. like he didn’t just light a match and drop it between your legs. but this time, you don’t let him. your hand shoots out fast and grabs his belt loop. he pauses and stills, and slowly, turns his head back toward you.

“you think i won’t?” you ask, voice low and deadly sweet.

he looks down at your hand, still fisted in his jeans like a challenge. then his eyes flick back up to yours—dark, wild, curious. he steps closer, just one step. then another. until he’s right in front of you again, and this time there’s no space. no teasing, no gaps. just you, caught between a truck door and the worst mistake you want to make.

he leans in. both hands come to rest on either side of your head. caging you in and claiming the air between you. “careful now,” he murmurs, voice rough. “you’re not the only one who likes to play.”

and then his knee presses forward, between your legs. you gasp. it’s not subtle, not even a little. he fits it there, deliberate and slow, until your thighs part just enough to make room for the solid weight of him. his thigh is strong and warm. your breath catches and your fingers twitch where they’re tangled in his shirt.

he’s watching your face. watching your mouth, like he’s trying to memorize the exact second you lose composure. but you don’t, you smile. then, slow and wicked, you roll your hips just a little against his thigh—enough to make him grunt, low in his throat, like he wasn’t ready for it. “you started it,” you say, feigning innocence. “don’t get shy now, cowboy.”

he exhales sharp. one of his hands drops and wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. your shorts ride up. the pressure of his thigh against you gets sharper, filthier, almost unbearable. “you think this is a joke?” he growls.

“no,” you breathe. “i think it’s foreplay.”

his hand tightens. he shifts his thigh just barely upward, grinding it between your legs, and you have to bite your lip to keep the sound in. he leans in, mouth ghosting over your ear. “i could make you come like this,” he says, voice like a sin you want to confess over and over. “right here, against my truck, with nothin’ but my thigh between your legs.”

you shiver, but you smile. “you talk a big game,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw. “but so far all you’ve done is flex in tight jeans and give me blue balls.”

he lets out a sharp laugh, dangerous. then his hands drop to your hips, grip possessive, and he rolls you against his thigh again. this time harder and filthier. like he wants to see how far you’ll let it go. your knees almost buckle. your head hits the truck window. but your hands are in his hair now, pulling, tugging, dragging his face closer.

and still he doesn’t kiss you. you pant, flushed and desperate and mad as hell. he just smirks. “look at you,” he says. “makin’ a mess on me and i haven’t even touched you proper.”

you glare at him and your lip curls in frustration. “maybe you’re scared.”

he arches a brow. “of what?”

“of me.” you press down hard against his thigh again—your move now, your game—and you feel him tense. feel him curse under his breath like you’ve just won a round he didn’t even know he was playing. you lean in and whisper against his mouth: “i could ruin you.”

he inhales sharp. you swear you hear him mutter fuck. but still, still he doesn’t kiss you. he pulls back, eyes wild, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.

and then he steps away. leaves you there. aching and panting. blinking like you just came out of a trance. “one of these days, sweetheart,” he says, adjusting his belt like he needs a minute. “you’re gonna be the one beggin’.”

and then he climbs into the driver’s seat and drives away. you stare after him, thighs trembling, heart racing, and mutter:

“i’m gonna set his truck on fire.”

and jake sim spends the week trying not to think about you. which is stupid, because you’re everywhere. in his sheets, in his hands, in his mouth when he mutters fuck at two in the morning and fists his hair like it’ll shake you out of his head.

he sees you in the curve of a beer bottle. in the red of a stoplight. in the fucking grocery store, standing in front of a watermelon display like you invented sin.

he can’t focus. can’t sleep. can’t work. every time he bends over a fence or climbs into the truck, he hears your voice in his ear: i could ruin you. every time he closes his eyes, he sees your thighs wrapped around his fucking leg. he’s losing it. actually, clinically losing it.

and the worst part is that he let it happen. he swore he wouldn’t. told himself he wasn’t like the rest of them—the boys who lined up for your attention like fools in heat. he used to watch you tease and twist and toy with every man in town and laugh. not because he didn’t get it, because he did. but now he’s just another name on your list. and he hates it.

he’s a grown man. a cowboy, for christ’s sake. he should be immune to lip gloss and flirty banter and skirts short enough to send him to jail. but he’s not. and the worst part is that you know, you know what you’re doing. you know exactly how to stand, how to talk, how to glance up with that little tilt of your head like oops, did i break you again?

and he’s fucking gone. he’s a freak for it. a perv. he thinks about your mouth at church. he imagines your legs wrapped around his waist when he’s driving. he’s so far gone it’s pathetic.

so on thursday, when the thought of you cleaning up at the saloon alone hits him like a truck, he doesn’t fight it. he gets in the truck, drives like the devil’s chasing him. when he gets there, the bar is dark, empty. just the faint sound of clinking glasses and a broom dragging across the floor.

you’re behind the counter. sweaty and tired. loose hair falling around your face. still the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen.

the door creaks open. you don’t look up. “we’re closed,” you call out, distracted.

then you lift your head, and you pause. your lips part. 

his boots hit the floor. he doesn’t say a word. just crosses the room in four heavy steps, reaches for your wrist, and pulls you in like he needs you to breathe. and then— he kisses you.

not sweet. not shy, not teasing. hot, open and filthy.

he groans when your mouth opens under his, when your fingers clutch his shirt like you’ve been waiting for this just as long. his hands are everywhere, your waist, jaw, the small of your back. he kisses like he’s mad about it, like this is a punishment.

your back hits the counter. your teeth knock. a glass falls off. and still, he kisses you like he’s trying to erase the space between you. 

he pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your cheek. “you win,” he mutters. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you’re panting, flushed. “not yet,” you whisper. “i like my man playing real hard to get,” you whisper, breath ghosting his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to tease.

and that’s the moment he snaps. his hands come up, cup your jaw like he’s trying to memorize it, and he kisses you hard, messy and desperate. and you moan, you can’t help it. he tastes like whiskey and salt and everything you’ve been dreaming about at three in the morning.

his hips press forward, tight against yours, grinding you back into the edge of the counter like he wants to leave a dent in your spine. and you grin against his lips. you reach back blindly, “you gonna keep kissing me like a saint,” you pant, pulling back, “or you gonna bend me over something, cowboy?”

his eyes go dark. “oh, you wanna act like a brat now?” he growls.

you smirk. “what gave it away?”

he grabs you, lifts you right off the floor and sets you down on a table like you weigh nothing. your legs part without hesitation and he steps between them, his hips hard against yours, and his hands gripping your thighs like he’s trying to decide which one he wants to ruin first. “look at you,” he mutters, eyes trailing down your body. “pretty little mouth, dirty little attitude.”

you tilt your head, all fake innocence. “you like it.”

he leans in close, mouth against your ear. “i’m gonna fuckin’ break you.”

your breath vanishes. his fingers trail up your thigh, slow, teasing, maddening. he doesn’t go where you want him, but just next to it, brushing the edges, watching you squirm. “i know what you need,” he murmurs. “you need someone to shut that mouth. teach you some fuckin’ manners.”

you wrap your legs around his waist. “you volunteering?”

he laughs, low and filthy. “baby, i’ve been applying for that job all month.” then he grinds forward, slow and mean, dragging a moan out of you that echoes across the empty bar. you gasp and clutch at his shoulders. he grabs your hips, presses them down, holds you there. “no running now,” he mutters. “you been beggin’ for this.”

you roll your hips up into his. “you liked it.”

he groans, kissing down your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp again. “liked it so much i nearly wrecked my truck thinkin’ about you.” his hand slips under your top. calloused fingers on your skin, rough and reverent all at once. he palms your chest like he’s claiming it. like he’s mad you let anyone else look. you arch into him, moaning. “so impatient,” he teases, voice a growl. “what happened to makin’ me beg, sweetheart?”

“shut up and fuck me.”

he smirks against your throat. “say please.”

you groan, kick your heels against his ass. “cowboy—”

“say it.”

you hiss, then lean in and bite his lip. “please.”

he pulls back just enough to smirk, breath hot against your lips. “please what?” he asks, voice low, gravel rough.

you glare at him, or at least, you try to. but your legs are wrapped around his waist, your hips aching for friction, and his hand is already creeping up your thigh like he’s got nowhere to be but inside you. so you say it, no shame. no power left to pretend. “please, fuck me, jakey.”

he groans loudly, like the words physically hit him. then he mutters something that sounds like jesus fucking christ, and crashes his mouth into yours. and this kiss is different. it is hungry and starving. he grinds against you, slow and hard, pressing you down into the table with the full weight of his body. your shirt rides up. your back arches. the wood creaks underneath like it might give out, and honestly—if it breaks, let it. you’ll thank it for its service.

his hands are everywhere. palming your thighs, squeezing your ass, gripping your waist like he owns it. “look at you,” he rasps, lips trailing down your throat. “fuckin’ dream girl of the county. all these poor bastards lining up for a smile, and here you are—legs open for me.”

you gasp and whimper and dig your nails into his shoulders. he presses his hips harder, grinds right against where you need him most. your head drops back, your moan echoes. “you love this,” he says, panting now. “bein’ up here where anyone could walk in. where anyone could see you gettin’ ruined by me.” you don’t answer, you can’t. “what happened to that bratty mouth, huh?” he growls, dragging his teeth along your jaw. “where’s all that sass now?”

“shut up,” you breathe. “just—please.”

“beggin’ again?” he taunts. “thought you didn’t do that.”

“i’m making an exception.”

he laughs, dark and hot, and grabs your hips tighter, pulling you to the edge of the table. “you should see yourself right now,” he mutters, undoing his belt with one hand. “look so fuckin’ pretty like this. so desperate.”

“you’re the one that came after me.”

“yeah,” he admits, lining himself up, voice breaking a little, “because i’m a goddamn fool for you.”

and then he pulls back. his hand wraps around your jaw, gentle but firm, tilting your face up to look at him. he’s flushed and panting. pupils blown wide. and his voice, when he speaks, is low and dangerous and thick with control he’s barely holding. “get on your knees.”

your heart stops and your grin widens. “you asking or telling me, cowboy?”

he presses his thumb into your cheek, leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth like he’s being nice before doing something awful. “i’m tellin’ you,” he mutters, “be a good girl and make me feel good.”

you blink slow, mouth open, pretending to think about it. “what’s in it for me?”

his hand slips down, fingers wrapping around your throat just enough to make you feel it—not choking, just owning. “my cock in your mouth,” he growls. “and maybe if you do it right, i’ll let you come later.”

your knees buckle, but your pride doesn’t. you hum, all fake sweetness. “guess i could use something to suck on.” you drop to the floor, knees hitting the sticky saloon wood like you belong there. he watches you, chest heaving and jaw tight. trying not to come just from the sight of you looking so cute on your knees for him. you look up at him, eyes wide, lips parted. “you nervous?” you tease.

he barks a laugh. “just waitin’ to see if the mouth that talks so much can finally do something useful.”

you pout. then reach for his belt, slow and dramatic, undoing it like it’s the last gift under a christmas tree. and when his cock springs free, hard, flushed, huge, your mouth waters. you glance up again. “you been thinkin’ about this, haven’t you?”

he hisses as you wrap your hand around him, thumb brushing the tip. “every fuckin’ night,” he admits, voice ragged. “jesus, i’d wake up hard just rememberin’ how you looked struttin’ around in those little shorts behind the bar.”

you stroke him once, twice, slow and sweet. then you lean forward, kiss the tip. just a whisper of a touch. he groans. his hand finds your hair, pulling it already. you drag your tongue along the underside, all the way down, then back up again. he swears, low and filthy. “look at you,” he rasps. “knees on the fuckin’ floor, pretty mouth full of me. you know how many men in this town would give their right hand for this?”

you hum around him. smile with your eyes, because you do know. and you love that it’s you doing this to him. so you take more of him in, then more. until he’s deep in your throat, and he’s gripping the edge of the table so tight you think he might snap it in half. “fuck,” he moans. “that’s it, sweetheart. just like that. takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

his hips twitch forward. just a little, just enough to make you gag—on purpose, and he loves that. he loves the sound. he loves how messy your mouth is for him. so he starts to move in shallow thrusts. hand in your hair, not rough, but claiming. “you gonna let me come in your mouth, baby?” he groans. “gonna swallow it all, show me how good you are?”

you nod and moan, sucking harder, and that’s it. he gasps, his hips snap forward. his whole body shudders. he comes hard, hot and thick on your tongue, fingers tangled in your hair, voice wrecked. you swallow it all, slowly. wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, like a brat.

you’re still on your knees, lips wet, tongue peeking out in satisfaction like you just finished dessert and might go back for seconds. he looks down at you, utterly wrecked. and then he laughs breathless and disbelieving. “jesus christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair like you just short-circuited every last nerve. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you grin, smug as sin. but then he leans down, and his strong arms slide under your shoulders, lifting you like you weigh nothing. you squeal, half-laughing, hands flying to grip his shirt. “hey—!”

“shut up,” he breathes. “my turn.”

he sets you down on the table again, right where you were before. but this time, he doesn’t kiss you yet. doesn’t even touch you. he just steps back, eyes dark and hungry. and says, “spread.”

you blink, chest rising. “what?”

he tilts his head, steps back in, hands firm on your knees. “you heard me, sweetheart. open up. now i’m gonna make you feel good.”

you part your thighs slow, watching his eyes drop, watching his breath hitch. you lean back on your elbows, head tilted, and he glances at the wet mark through your shorts. he drops to his knees, his hands grip your thighs, dragging you to the edge like he’s pulling you into hell with him. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, slow and reverent, like you’re a prayer and a sin at the same time.

“you wet for me already?” he murmurs, hot breath brushing your core through your shorts.

you nod, breathless. “since you walked in.”

he grins. bites the soft skin just above your knee. “should’ve told me. i’d’ve come sooner.”

he yanks your shorts and panties down fast, like he’s impatient. because he probably is. so then—finally—he licks you. one long, slow stroke that makes your back arch off the table. you gasp. grab the edge and moan his name so soft it sounds like a confession.

and he devours you. not gentle, not slow. just hungry and precise, like he’s got something to prove. his tongue works you open, circles and flicks and drives you fucking wild. he hums when you buck your hips, groans when you moan. his grip on your thighs bruises. his tongue never stops. “so fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against you. “no wonder they all wanna taste.”

you whimper. he slides a finger in, then another. crooks them just right. your whole body tightens. your breath catches. “that’s it, baby,” he whispers. “ride my face. let go. give it to me.”

you do. you shatter, legs trembling, back arched, voice gone. you’re gasping his name, tugging his hair, begging him to stop or keep going—you don’t even know. he doesn’t stop. not until your whole body is shaking. not until your thighs twitch and your breathing turns ragged and your hand slaps the table in surrender.

then finally he pulls back with his mouth glistening with you. his smile is wrecked, his eyes wide and wild. he looks up at you like you just handed him the goddamn meaning of life. “holy fuck,” he whispers, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “you came so good for me, angel.”

you try to glare, you really do. but your limbs don’t work. your knees are jelly. your stomach’s still twitching in aftershocks. and then he stands, towering. glowing like he just found religion between your legs. and then he leans down, kisses your jaw, and says—soft and cocky— “think you can take one more?”

your eyes flutter open, you blink at him. “you’re insane.”

he grins and kisses the corner of your mouth. “that ain’t a no.”

you roll your eyes. but you’re already lifting your hips, already turning. and then his hands are on your waist, firm and steady, spinning you around until you’re bent over the table. your cheek presses to the cool wood. your arms stretch forward. “fuck,” you whisper.

he hums behind you, hands sliding up your back, bunching your shirt at your ribs. “look at you,” he mutters. “so goddamn ready. still drippin’ for me.” he leans over you, chest to your back, mouth at your ear. “tell me you want it.”

you inhale shakily. “i want it.”

his hand slides between your thighs. fingers glide through your wetness. “tell me who’s gonna make you come again.”

you gasp. “you are.”

“say my name, sweetheart.”

“you, jakey.”

he groans. lines himself up. and then he pushes in. you gasp, you arch and whimper. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, controlling the pace. his hips move slow and deep, dragging a moan out of you every time he bottoms out. “so tight,” he pants. “like you’re fuckin’ made for me.”

you moan his name again, cheek still to the table, one hand reaching back to grab at his wrist. he laughs low and feral. “no runnin’ now,” he growls. “you said you could take one more.”

his thrusts get faster and harder. the table starts to creak. your moans start to sound like pleas. and he’s loving every second. he leans in, bites your shoulder, mutters against your skin, “gonna fuck you so dumb you forget how to sass.” you gasp and grin. you push back against him just to be a brat. he grabs your hips, pulls you back onto him hard. “jesus,” he hisses. “you like this, don’t you? bein’ used like this.”

“i like you like this,” you pant. “all obsessed.”

he grunts, and slaps your ass with a sting that makes your knees wobble. you yelp. and then he laughs, breathless, wicked. “i’m not lettin’ anyone else touch you again,” he mutters, voice cracked open, raw in your ear. his hand comes down to your hip, gripping. “this?” he growls, grinding into you harder, deeper. “this fuckin’ mouth, these thighs, this perfect little pussy— all mine.”

you moan, loud and shameless. he leans in, mouth hot on your neck, and his hand slips around you, fingers finding your clit like they never forgot it. he rubs in tight, fast circles, exactly how your body begs for. “come for me again, baby,” he pants. “show me how fuckin’ pretty you fall apart.”

and you do. you break, and your cry punches through the empty bar, your walls clenching so tight around him it nearly knocks the air from his lungs. your hands scrabble for the edge of the table, your face buried, your voice gone, just moans, sobs, his name like a prayer you can’t stop saying. and then—still shaking, still high on it— you whisper, broken and filthy: “inside. jake. please—come inside.”

he fucking loses it. his hips stutter, his breath catches, his hand grabs your ass roughly. “fuck, baby—” his head drops to your back. his rhythm falters, he’s right there. “you want me to fill you up?” he growls, desperate. “want me leavin’ you dripping with me?”

you nod, frantic. “yes—yes, please—i want it, i want all of it—”

he groans, loud. his thrusts go messy. erratic. wild. “goddamn, you’re gonna ruin me,” he gasps. and then he comes, deep and hard. body shuddering as he spills inside you, hips pressed tight, your name falling from his lips like a sin he’s finally ready to be forgiven for.

his hand stays in your hips. his forehead pressed to your back. both of you panting. shaking. wrecked. and you smile, eyes closed, face against the table, voice barely above a whisper:

“told you you were obsessed.”

he laughs—hoarse, drunk on you—and kisses your spine. “shut up,” he murmurs. “you fuckin’ love it.”

after, at your place, after he wrecked you in every possible way, you watch him fall asleep beside you, arm slung across your waits like he is still trying to stake a claim. cowboy hat on the floor. love bite on his throat. your lipstick on his chest.

you smile to yourself. “i like my men playing hard to get,” you whisper.

lucky for you, he never stood a chance.

author’s note: soooo i saw this edit of jake in full cowboy mode and lost every functioning brain cell i had left. then i watched manchild by sabrina carpenter and went wait what if… so this fic accidentally became the most porn-with-plot thing i’ve ever written. but i regret nothing. cowboy jake has a chokehold on me and the saloon girl in my brain wouldn’t shut up until he was wrecked and begging. anyway, yee-fucking-haw 🤠

my masterlist // perma taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova

© all rights reserved @/heejamas — do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures

[ikeuwoniee]

──★ JUST LIKE HEAVEN (part. 2)

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: jay x fem!reader … ﹒ 90s au, childhood friends to lovers, brother's best friend!jay, exes to lovers, fluff, smut … ﹒w/c: 15k synopsis: three years. that’s how long it had been since you last saw jay park. since spring break, since mixtapes and goodbye letters and i’ll write when i can. he had traded the life you knew for one on the road — guitars, neon lights, hotel rooms in cities you’d never been to. and it was 1994 now, you had your own place, your own rhythm. you had almost convinced yourself you were over it. until a concert. a song. a glance across a crowded room. and suddenly, nothing was over at all. ꒰ ‎﹒ warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), smut, mdni!!! 💿 % (◠﹏◠ ✿) #nowplaying: just like heaven - the cure | read part 1 here <3

it’s been three years since you last saw jay park. and somehow, it still feels like yesterday.

by 1994, everything feels different. you’re in your last year of college now. you know how to make your bed in the dark, how to survive on gas station coffee and a playlist that’s been the same since sophomore year. your books are underlined and frayed at the corners. the shoes by your door don’t match on purpose anymore. jungwon’s in college now, halfway through. he’s still figuring things out, but his voice has settled, and so has his energy. a little more grounded, a little less wild around the edges. he doesn’t call as much as he used to, but he writes sometimes. signs his letters with messy doodles and stories that sound like home: who’s dating who, which professor’s a nightmare. he’s talking about studying abroad next year. says it like a joke, but you know he’s serious.

your friends are scattered across cities and apartments, student loans and early jobs. some of them are in long-term relationships. some are engaged. some are already talking about house payments. they still write you, too. sometimes on postcards, sometimes in long emails typed from shared computers in dorm basements. you keep every one.

you've learned how to let go of things slowly. how to miss people quietly. how to stop expecting things to stay the same.

the world has changed since 1991. nevermind came out. so did automatic for the people. you cut your hair once, just to feel something. you fell in love with someone else for a little while, then out of it, and didn’t talk about it much after. the posters in your room have faded from the sun. you don’t live in the dorms anymore. you don’t listen to the same tapes every night. just most nights.

you don’t talk about jay. not really. not out loud.

he shows up in passing. in jokes jungwon makes. in old notes you kept but don’t read. in the way your breath still catches when someone plays just like heaven on a jukebox too late at night. you heard he’s playing in a band now. you don’t know much. just that sometimes, when you pass a flyer on a telephone pole or a crumpled gig poster in a café window, you pause a little longer than you mean to. and sometimes, just sometimes, you wish you see his name is on it.

sometimes, in the middle of doing something normal — folding laundry, walking back from class, standing in line for coffee — you remember that last afternoon.

spring break, 1991. the sky was overcast, warm in the way that made you think summer might arrive early. jay was leaving again. his band had just gotten picked up to open for someone bigger, someone you’d never heard of but pretended to recognize. he had a folded schedule in his back pocket, all scribbled in blue ink and crossed-out cities.

“you should come,” he said. “i’ll leave your name at the door.”

you smiled. nodded. said, “yeah, maybe.”

but you never did.

the next semester hit hard. papers stacked up, internships started, and time blurred. phone calls turned into postcards. then into silence. it wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really. he had tour dates. you had midterms. and something about trying too hard to hold on felt embarrassing after a while.

the last thing he sent was a letter.

you still remember the envelope. thin, bent at the corner, his handwriting slanted and messier than usual. you read it in your dorm room one night, sitting on the edge of your bed while your roommate snored into her pillow.

y/n,

i’m sorry i’ve been gone. i mean, i’ve been here, just not really anywhere at the same time. i thought i could keep up with everything. with touring, with writing, with remembering to breathe. but i keep messing it up. i keep losing time. i didn’t want to stop writing. i just didn’t know how to keep showing up if i wasn’t doing it right.

i still think about you. that’s probably unfair.

i hope you’re good. i hope you’re better than i’ve been.

— j

you kept that letter for too long. read it twice. three times. then put it away in a drawer and didn’t open it again.

after that, things just… faded. you didn’t write. he didn’t call. you heard from jungwon once that jay had been in town for a weekend but didn’t stop by. you told yourself that was fine. you told yourself it didn’t matter. until that night in 1993, in the back room of someone’s party. the music loud. drinks half-finished. two girls near the record player talking about some band they saw the week before. one of them said, “the guitarist was so hot, i swear he was flirting with me all night backstage.” and the other one laughed. “the one with the flannel? that’s jay, right?”

you froze. just for a second. and didn’t say anything. you didn’t ask if it was the same jay. you didn’t need to. you left early, walked home alone, told yourself it didn’t mean anything, that you were fine. that you’d grown out of it.

but some nights, when it’s too quiet to lie to yourself, you replay that last goodbye. the way he’d said, “you should come.” and the way you never did. you wonder if he waited. for how long. or if he stopped counting somewhere along the way.

and here you are, 1994, months from graduating, pretending the weight on your chest is just the pressure of adulthood. pretending you don’t still rewind that tape sometimes. pretending you haven’t memorized his handwriting even though you haven’t seen it in years.

you’re fine. you smile when people ask. you talk about plans. you fill your days with work and lists and voices that keep you forward-facing. but every once in a while, at the end of a song, or the bottom of a box, or when you see someone in a denim jacket that doesn’t quite fit, you feel it again.

you never really let go. you just learned how to carry it differently.

it started as something casual, something thrown into a friday night without much weight — just yunjin walking into the room with two tickets and that grin she always had when she knew you needed something to pull you out of your head. she said bon jovi was in town. said yeonjun already had his and that the three of you could go together. said she didn’t want to hear any excuses. and you didn’t have one, not really. so you nodded, and told yourself it would be good to get out. you hadn’t been to a concert in a while. not a big one, not the kind with lights and heat and voices shouting into the dark.

you didn’t think about jay right away. maybe just for a second. a flicker of memory at the name. you remembered him talking about bon jovi, you remembered that t-shirt you painted for him. 

so you went. you got dressed. you wore your denim jacket and borrowed eyeliner from yunjin. yeonjun picked you both up in his dad’s car, windows down, music too loud. it was the kind of night that felt like it could belong to anyone. the arena was full. the floor vibrated before anything even started. people were already on their feet, beer sloshing from plastic cups, voices rising together like they’d been waiting all week just to scream. you found your seats, somewhere near the back but high enough to see the full stretch of stage. the lights dimmed. a ripple ran through the crowd, electric and hungry. and then the band was there. you let yourself enjoy the first songs. let the music rush through you, let the drums hit your chest. yunjin was dancing in her seat. yeonjun kept shouting lyrics half a beat too late. the night blurred around the edges in the way concerts always do.

and then came the next song. always. you recognized it before your brain caught up. 

and that’s when you saw him.

your eyes were scanning the stage out of habit, and there he was. standing off to the left, half-shadowed in blue light. guitar slung low across his chest, hair falling forward a little as he tilted toward the mic. he looked older. not in a bad way, just real. flannel sleeves rolled to the elbows, hands steady on the strings. and then he opened his mouth and sang. not lead. just backing vocals.

your body didn’t move. couldn’t. it was like the floor had locked you in place. you stared. the rest of the crowd kept moving. the lights kept flashing. yunjin was still beside you, completely unaware. but your world had shrunk to the length of the stage and the shape of his shoulders and the way he closed his eyes when he hit a harmony.

jay. after all this time.

after postcards and silence and a hundred almost-memories you tried not to replay.

he was looking out into the crowd, past the lights, into the blur of people that you had somehow become a part of. and still, something in you reached for him. your fingers curled against your jacket, your breath caught halfway. you didn’t cry. not yet. you just kept staring, like maybe if you stayed very still, the universe would shift, and he’d look up, and see you. but he doesn’t see you. of course he doesn’t. you’re just one face in a crowd of thousands, too far up and too far back and too far gone. but when the last chorus of always starts, something in your chest breaks open anyway.

you hear him — clear, right through the echo and the noise. i know when i die, you’ll be on my mind, and i’ll love you, always.

your breath catches so hard you forget how to let it go.

your fingers find the edge of your seat. your knees lock, then unlock. and before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing. slipping past yunjin’s knees, brushing yeonjun’s arm. you don’t look at either of them. you just go.

“where are you going?” yunjin’s voice follows you.

yeonjun chimes in too, confused. maybe a little annoyed. “dude. what—”

but you don’t answer. you can’t. you’re already down the stairs, already pushing through the hallway, the noise of the concert fading as you make your way out. the air outside is colder than you expected. your legs feel heavy. your hands are shaking, and you don’t stop walking until you’re alone. you take the long way home, even though the buses are still running. even though your shoes are not made for this. you walk like you’re trying to wear the feeling out of your body. like distance could make this less real.

and when you finally get to your apartment, you shut the door quietly behind you. you don’t turn on the lights. you just stand there, coat still on, bag still slung over your shoulder, and you let yourself feel it. you cry. you cry in that ugly, helpless way where your hands can’t keep up with your face, where your chest folds in on itself, where everything you’d been holding in since 1991 spills out like it never had anywhere to go. you cry because you saw him. because it’s been three years. because you didn’t know he would be there and now you don’t know how to be here without the weight of that moment pressed into your skin. and then you sit down on the floor, like your body doesn’t know what to do next.

you think about all the things that came flooding back the second you saw him: that christmas, the porch light, the sound of his voice in a letter, the way he used to rest his forehead against yours like it meant something. the lake house. the mixtape. the last kiss. you think about the letter he sent before it all went quiet. the way he said i still think about you, and how you never answered. you think about the day you heard someone else say his name and pretended it didn’t knock the air out of you.

you think about how, even after all this time, you still knew his voice the second you heard it. and somewhere under all of that, buried deep in the ache, there’s something like pride. because he made it. you always knew he could. he was good, really good. not just at guitar, but at meaning what he played. and now here he is, sharing a stage with one of the biggest bands in the world. and sounding like he belongs there. you’re happy for him. you are. but it still hurts. not because you wanted him to stay, but because some part of you never expected to lose him like this. not so completely.

you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jacket. pull your knees up to your chest. the room is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge and the faint buzz of a light somewhere down the hall. and in the middle of all that silence, your heart keeps repeating the same question, over and over. does he ever think of you when he sings it? you don’t know. maybe you’ll never know.

but tonight, for a moment, you were eighteen again. and that’s almost worse than forgetting.

you wake up with your face still puffy, the inside of your mouth dry, and the memory of always still echoing in your chest. you sit on the kitchen floor with yesterday’s clothes and a cold cup of coffee, and you think, i’ll just move on. you don’t mean to say anything about it. you don’t wake up planning to talk. but then there’s a knock and it’s yunjin, holding a paper bag and looking like she already knows you’re not okay. yeonjun’s behind her, carrying takeout cups and wearing his we come in peace t-shirt that always makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to.

they don’t press at first. they come in, settle onto your couch, act like it’s any other morning. yunjin puts music on low — something soft, r.e.m. — and yeonjun turns on the kettle like he lives there. you sit cross-legged on the floor in your hoodie, and after a few minutes of silence, yunjin says, “you didn’t come back.”

and that’s when it breaks, and you tell them everything. not the whole thing. not every letter, not every tape, not the lake or the kiss or the way he once said you make things feel easy. but enough for them to understand that it wasn’t just the shock of seeing him. it was everything around it. the time, the loss, the space between who you were and who he is now. they don’t interrupt. they don’t try to fix it. yeonjun just nods, real slow, and mutters, “damn.” yunjin reaches over and squeezes your hand.

hours pass, blurring into a quiet afternoon of them helping you pack away some of the memories, pausing only to put on some mindless show. they don't stay too long after that. eventually, they get up and start talking about dinner, about how you're going out whether you like it or not, and you let them take you along because the apartment feels too full of memory, and because they're trying, and because you've always been better at pretending when someone else is watching.

the diner they pick is on the corner near the old bookstore, the neon sign flickers a little, and you feel something in your chest settle as soon as you sit down. yunjin and yeonjun are talking, laughing quietly about someone from class, their legs brushing under the table in that way that makes you suspicious. they’re trying to act normal, but there’s something too soft in the way she hands him the salt. you watch them out of the corner of your eye, chewing on your straw, and finally smile for real for the first time all day.

but after a while, the noise gets too much again. you excuse yourself, and step out the front door, letting it shut behind you with a soft click. the sky’s dark now, but not cold. the street’s mostly empty and silent, except for a few cars passing, the occasional sound of a skateboard or a laugh from somewhere around the corner. you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out a crushed pack of cigarettes. one left. figures. you picked this habit up during finals last year. felt cool. felt like the end of a music video, like it did in the 80s. but now, in the 90s, they say it’ll kill you. but it shuts everything up for a second. so.

you don’t know how long you stand there like that, leaning against the brick wall, cigarette between your fingers, letting the night breathe around you. and then headlights hit the pavement, a car pulls into the lot — dark green, polished, the kind of old-school cool that feels deliberate but not forced. it’s a 1992 chevy camaro z28, all angles and muscle, the kind of car a guy buys when they’re not quite ready to settle down.

you watch without thinking. the door opens. a guy steps out, tall, black jacket, looks vaguely familiar. another follows, laughing, pulling off a beanie. you know them. not well. not personally. but you recognize them. because you’ve seen them before.

on stage.

the third door opens slower.

and there he is.

jay.

he steps out like he’s unsure of the ground under him. same flannel, sleeves rolled, hair a little shorter now, but still him. still the same shape of boy you kissed once in a field of stars, the same voice on every tape you kept hidden in your drawer.

he’s looking down at first, shoulders slightly hunched. and then he looks up. right at you. he freezes. you freeze too. for a second, maybe longer, neither of you moves.

the other guys are still talking, already walking toward the diner entrance. but jay doesn’t follow. he stays there, by the car, staring at you like you’re something he thought he made up. like seeing you breaks some rule. your cigarette burns down between your fingers. you forget to breathe. you forget to blink. and in the silence between one breath and the next, the years fold up like they never happened. it feels like you’re just two kids again.

the car door is still open behind jay, one of the other guys calling his name from a few steps ahead, not noticing, or maybe not caring, that he hasn’t followed. his eyes stay on you like they’re trying to make sure you’re not just a trick of the lights, something he pulled out of a dream too late at night. you don’t look away. you can’t.

he closes the door and takes a few steps forward. slow and careful, like you might run.

“hi,” he says, voice low, uncertain, like the word isn’t big enough for what he’s feeling.

“hi.” you say it back.

and then silence again. the kind that comes heavy and weird, pressing between the two of you like fog. you cross your arms. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. a door opens somewhere behind you, someone laughs from inside the diner, but it doesn’t touch either of you. he clears his throat first.

“i forgot we were in your city,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “too many cities lately. i don’t even know what day it is half the time.”

you let out a small, dry laugh through your nose — not exactly mean, just tired. “yeah,” you say quietly. “i went to the show.”

his eyes widen a little, like the information hits harder than it should. “you—what?”

you nod once, slow. “i didn’t know you were part of the band. it was my friend’s idea. she dragged me out.” your voice is steadier than you expected. “i recognized your voice first. then i saw you.” he doesn’t say anything. his mouth opens slightly like he might, but nothing comes out. “you’re really good,” you add, softer this time. “i mean it.”

his shoulders drop a little. his mouth twists, not into a smile, exactly, but something close. “thanks.”

“i didn’t know you made it that far,” you say. “bon jovi.”

he exhales. his eyes are shining a little, and he looks down like he needs a second to get control of whatever’s happening inside him. “i didn’t know you’d be there.”

“me neither.”

he takes another step toward you. you don’t move. "i didn’t think i’d ever see you again," he says. his voice cracks at the end, just a little. "and now you’re here, you’re smoking."

you let out a low laugh, real this time. “yeah. turns out i have terrible coping mechanisms.”

he smiles, but it’s cautious. “i’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “for disappearing. for not writing. for—”

you hold up a hand, just slightly. “you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” his voice is steady now. quiet, but clear. he’s still standing a foot away, but it feels like he’s closer than that. “i wanted to reach out a hundred times,” he continues. “but it felt like too much. or not enough. and then time just… passed.”

you nod, slowly. “yeah. it does that.”

he looks at you again, really looks this time, like he’s trying to see who you became. “you look good,” he says. “different, but not really.”

you smile, even though it hurts a little. “you too. the flannel’s still doing the heavy lifting though.”

he laughs, finally, and it breaks something between you. for a second, you let it be easy again. he tilts his head, eyes soft. “can i—are you okay?” you hesitate. then nod. “i don’t know what this is,” he says. “i don’t know if i have the right to even be talking to you right now. but i’m really glad i saw you.”

you swallow around the lump in your throat. “me too.”

he takes a breath like he might say more, but the diner door swings open then, and yunjin leans out. “hey—are you—”

she sees him, and freezes. then looks at you. then back at him. her mouth opens like she wants to say something but she wisely doesn’t. “i’ll give you a minute,” she says, disappearing back inside without another word. you and jay both laugh under your breath at the same time. and just like that, it’s quiet again. he takes one more step forward, close enough now that you can see the curve of his lashes, the slight stubble on his jaw, his birth mark on the side of his neck. the way his hand twitches like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“can i give you a hug?” he asks, voice soft. unsure.

you nod. barely, but it’s enough. he moves toward you and wraps his arms around you, carefully at first, then tighter, like something in him breaks open when you don’t pull away. and you sink into it. not because you want to, but because your body does before your mind can think twice. his arms are strong, warmer than you remember. he smells like the kind of cologne you’d smell on someone walking by backstage, faint smoke and something sharp underneath it, but it’s still him, still familiar. you bury your face against his shoulder, and neither of you says anything for a long time. he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. doesn’t let go.

“i think about you a lot,” he says, voice rough. “still.” you meet his eyes, breath shaky. he continues, “some songs... i write thinking about you. i don’t mean to. it just happens.”

you blink hard, chest tight again. “i liked always,” you say. “it’s a good one.”

he looks down, just a second. his hand still resting on your back. “yeah, i wrote that one,” he says. you stare at him for a beat. he shrugs a little. doesn’t say if he wrote that one thinking about you. but his eyes say more than his mouth ever could. you look away first. try to breathe again.

“how’s jungwon?” he asks suddenly, gently shifting the weight of the conversation.

you smile, genuine. “he’s good. third year. studying architecture. i don’t know where that came from.”

“he always liked building stuff. remember that weird tower he made out of cereal boxes?”

you laugh quietly. “yeah. and glue sticks. and half the living room rug.”

he smiles at that. the kind of smile that aches. “i missed him. i miss home sometimes.”

you nod. “me too.”

he looks at you again. more carefully this time. “what about you? last year, right?”

“yeah. almost done.”

“how’s it been?”

you shrug. “busy. normal. lonely, sometimes. i live alone now.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but the door behind him swings open again. two guys step out, the same ones from the car. one of them grins when he sees jay and calls out, “hey, you coming in or what?”

jay glances at them, then back at you. “i’ll be in soon,” he says. “ran into a long-time... friend.”

the pause in the middle of the sentence hangs there. not heavy. just strange. like both of you noticed it, but neither wants to name it. the other guy raises his eyebrows a little but doesn’t ask anything. they head back inside. the silence creeps back in. the door opens behind you this time. “hey,” yunjin says, stepping out. “we’re heading out. you coming?” yeonjun follows, one hand casually linked with hers. they both look at you, curious but not nosy, like they know enough not to ask. you glance at them, then at jay. then back.

you shake your head. “i think i’ll stay.”

yunjin squeezes your arm, just once, and nods. yeonjun just smiles, like he expected that answer all along. they wave as they walk away, hands still linked, disappearing around the corner. you turn to jay. he doesn’t say anything. just watches you. waiting. and somehow, without a word, you both understand the next step.

and that's when jay thinks about everything that happened in the last three years. he didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did.

at first, he thought he could balance everything — school, the band, writing, you. he really thought he could make it all work. but time moved differently back then. and he was always chasing something. a setlist. a deadline. a bus that left too early or too late. the band got serious quicker than any of them expected. one night they were playing to twenty drunk kids in someone’s garage and the next they were opening for someone bigger, someone with real equipment and real fans. people started showing up. listening. remembering his name. it was addictive but also terrifying. 

college faded into the background. it didn’t make sense anymore. he stopped going to most of his classes. said he’d take a semester off, then another. his parents were furious at first. called it reckless. stupid. said he was wasting potential. but then they came to a show. just one. they saw the way the crowd reacted, the way he moved with his guitar like it was part of him, like the music wasn’t something he made but something he became. after that, they softened. not completely, not all at once, but enough.

he kept going. city after city. song after song. sleeping in vans, missing birthdays, forgetting what day it was. he lost track of holidays. of phone calls. of you.

but he thought about you all the time. 

he thought about you when the van was too quiet and everyone else was asleep. he thought about you when he saw lights flickering in some motel parking lot and it reminded him of that night in the lake. he thought about you when he wrote something too soft, too raw, and didn’t know why it mattered until your name crossed his mind halfway through the chorus. he thought about you every time they played near your state and he almost said something to the manager. almost asked if you’d be there. he thought about you every time he rewound that tape you gave him, the one with your handwriting on the cover and that one song you swore would always make you think of summer.

he started writing that last letter months before he sent it. scratched out versions of it in different notebooks, napkins, corners of lyric sheets. tried to get the words right and never did. everything sounded like a lie, or worse, like a goodbye. and he didn’t want it to be that. but he also didn’t know how to keep pretending it wasn’t over. and when he finally wrote it, he kept it folded in his bag for three days before mailing it. didn’t sleep that night. didn’t tell anyone. he didn’t expect you to write back. but part of him always hoped you would.

he told himself he was doing what he was meant to do. that the trade-off was worth it. that this life — the shows, the travel, the applause — it had to be enough. but then the lights would go down at the end of a set, and someone would ask if he was coming out for drinks, and he’d find himself standing by the door too long, thinking of you. of your voice. of how you said maybe when he asked you to come see him play. he told himself you were probably happy. probably better off. probably didn’t think about him the same way anymore.

and then, three years later, he walked out of a car in a city he didn’t even realize was yours. and there you were, smoking a cigarette, looking at him like he’d never really left. like he was still someone you knew. and everything inside him just stopped. because it had been three years, and somehow, it still felt like you were the only part of his life that had ever been quiet enough to feel real.

he watches your friends walk away until they’re out of sight. the parking lot quiets down again, humming with the low buzz of neon and leftover conversation.

he turns to you. “do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, like it’s nothing. like it’s not everything.

you look at him for a second. just long enough for it to matter. “yeah,” you say. “i do.”

he nods, like he wasn’t expecting a yes. like part of him already had one foot back inside the diner. you both start walking toward the car, the one he came in, but he hesitates. “this isn’t mine,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “we’re leaving tomorrow morning. early. that’s the drummer’s car.” he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down for a second before glancing at you again. “my car’s at the hotel. about twenty minutes that way.”

“my place is closer. we can walk, if you want.” you don’t know why you say it. not exactly. the words come out easy, but they sit strange in your chest. there’s no plan. no reason. no expectation. just this pull that says don’t let him go yet.

he nods. “okay.”

the walk starts quiet. the streets are mostly empty, the kind of quiet you only get in a small city late at night. the air is cooler now and makes your skin feel too tight. you pull your jacket tighter around you. he notices. he doesn’t say anything. just steps a little closer. your shoulders brush, just slightly. neither of you moves away. you pass under a streetlamp. it hums above you. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye — his jawline in the yellow light, the way his hands are still tucked into the sleeves of his flannel like he’s holding something in.

“i don’t know what to say to you,” you admit quietly. not looking at him.

“me neither,” he says, almost instantly. “it’s weird.”

“yeah.”

“but not bad.”

you glance up at him but he’s already looking at you. you nod. “no. not bad.”

you don’t speak again for a while. the silence between you isn’t empty, though. it’s full of everything you both remember and everything you’re both afraid to ask. every few steps, your arms brush again. sometimes your hands, and it doesn’t feel like an accident. but it doesn’t feel like a decision either.

you turn onto your street, point out the building without saying anything. he follows you up the front steps like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you hear your keys in your hand before you realize you took them out. you stop in front of the door. and that’s when it really settles in — the closeness. the possibility. the strangeness of all of this.

you haven’t seen him in years, you barely know him now, but you used to. you really, really used to. and standing here, in front of your door, you’re not sure which version of him is looking back at you — the boy you kissed in the dark, or the man who sang backup on a stadium stage. maybe both. maybe neither.

you unlock the door with a quiet click, push it open slowly, and step inside first. you don’t turn on the overhead light, just the small lamp by the bookshelf. your place smells like lavender and the faint trace of the incense you burned the night before. you kick off your shoes, he copies you. he steps in carefully, like he’s not sure if he should be there, like he might break something by breathing too loud. his eyes move slowly across the room — the record player near the window, a stack of books with a coffee mug balanced on top, a blanket half-fallen from the couch.

he lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “you made it look like you.”

you glance at him, eyebrow raised. “what does that mean?”

he shrugs, walking a little deeper into the room. “i don’t know. it just... feels like you live here. it’s not just a space. it’s yours.”

you smile, small. close the door behind him. “thanks, i think.”

he turns back toward the shelf, fingertips brushing over the spines of the books, the edge of a candle, the side of your old walkman. he pauses. his hand stops at a cassette case, faded, slightly cracked at the corner, label smudged from years of being touched. he pulls it out gently. the handwriting is his.

he looks at you, eyes soft. “you kept this?”

you nod, slow. “yeah.”

he stares at it for a second longer, then sets it back down, careful. when he turns back toward you, his face is quieter than before, like something's settled. “do you... wanna talk?” he asks. his voice isn’t pushing. just curiosity and hope. “like—about everything. put things in order.”

you blink once, then nod. slow. “if you want to,” you say. “if you’re comfortable.” he nods too, eyes still on you. you motion to the couch, then the kettle. “you can sit, or make tea, whatever makes it feel easier. make yourself at home.” he lets out a little breath at that, the corner of his mouth tugging into a barely-there smile. he sits on the couch and watches as you move through the space. you light the kettle on the stove. he watches your hands. “so,” you say eventually, turning back to face him, leaning against the counter. “how did you end up playing with bon jovi?”

he huffs out a breath, eyes widening slightly. “honestly? i still don’t totally know.”

you raise an eyebrow and he shrugs. “you auditioned?”

he nods. “twice. the second time, i played a song i wrote. didn’t say it was mine. they figured it out later. he liked that too.” he pauses. “it happened fast. i didn’t expect it.”

you tilt your head. “but you wanted it.”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his hands. “i think i did. i mean, of course i did. we were opening for a few mid-sized acts. nothing huge. a guy who did lighting for their crew saw us in a club, told someone higher up that our guitarist was ‘some kid with way too much emotion in his fingers.’” he rolls his eyes at that. “i guess jon liked that.” you walk over slowly, curling your legs under you as you sit across from him. he shifts just slightly to face you. “so,” he says, matching your tone. “what about you? how were the last three years?”

you hesitate. not because you don’t have answers — but because none of them feel simple. you shrug. “good in pieces.” he watches you for a second. not pushing, but not letting the question disappear completely either. you offer a half-smile. “i don’t think i figured anything out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

he nods. “i wasn’t.”

a quiet settles in again. and then he says suddenly: “i missed you.” with no hesitation. like the words had been sitting too long and couldn’t stay still anymore.

you really look at him. “i missed you too.”

his eyes soften again. he leans forward just slightly, elbows on his knees. “sometimes i used to wonder if i made it all up. that summer. the way we were. if i just remembered it better than it really was.”

you shake your head, sure. “you didn’t.”

“you were always in the back of my mind,” he says. “even when i didn’t want to admit it. especially then.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i thought about you a lot. more than i wanted to.”

you both sit in it for a moment — the weight of three years, of silence, of almosts that never got their ending. the kettle starts to hiss, soft and steady in the background, but neither of you moves. he leans back a little, one arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, his hand only inches from your shoulder now. “i thought maybe we’d bump into each other again. and i hated that. the idea that it’d take chance, not effort.”

“but you’re here,” you say, quiet.

“yeah.” he breathes out. “and i don’t want to leave this time without doing it right.”

you glance at him. “i don’t know what doing it right means,” you admit.

he smiles, eyes tired and full. “me neither. but we could try.”

you look down at your hands, then at his fingers brushing slightly against the fabric of the couch. your heart’s louder now. you nod, barely. “we could try.”

you don’t know when it happens exactly, the shift. maybe it’s the quiet. maybe it’s the way the room’s only lit by the soft glow of the lamp. maybe it’s the weight of his words still floating between you. but suddenly, you’re looking at him, really looking at him, and he’s already looking at you. his gaze doesn’t move — not to your hands, not to the floor like it used to when he got nervous. it’s steady now, like he’s memorizing something. like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. your heart stumbles a little. and neither of you looks away, and the moment stretches. his knee is brushing yours. his hand still resting on the couch cushion. your whole body feels too aware of itself — your fingers, your lips, your throat. 

the kettle screams.

you both flinch, not much, just enough to break the spell, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“right,” you say, standing up quickly. “tea.”

he stays on the couch, watching you move across the room. you flick off the stove, pour the water into the mugs you grabbed earlier. you add honey to yours, then add some to his, too. you bring the mugs back, hand him his. he smiles when he takes it. that same crooked, tired smile you remember.

you sit again, curled into your side of the couch, feet tucked under you. “so,” you say, gently blowing over the rim of your cup. “rockstar life, huh?”

he really laughs, for the first time tonight. “i mean, it’s not exactly groupies and private jets,” he says. “sometimes it’s tuna sandwiches at truck stops and sharing hotel rooms with people who snore like they’re dying.”

you snort. “glamorous.”

“deeply.”

“do you like it?”

he thinks for a moment. “i do. most days. some days it’s exhausting. some days i feel like i’m just chasing noise.”

you nod, sip your tea. “do you ever get lonely?” you ask, quiet.

he looks at you. “yeah,” he says. “a lot more than i thought i would.”

you both finish your tea slowly, the conversation drifting here and there. small questions, quiet answers, tiny pieces of each other being carefully returned. it’s not like before. but it’s not not like before either. 

you place your mug down gently on the coffee table. he does the same. your hands brush. just barely. you start to move yours away out of instinct, but then you feel his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. you look up. he’s already looking at you again. his thumb brushes the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is loud. louder than you want it to be.

he leans in, not quite closing the space, but almost. “you still do that thing,” he says, voice low. “twist the sleeve of your sweater when you’re nervous.”

you glance down at your hand. he’s right. you look back up at him. his face is so close now you can see the faint scar near his eyebrow, the one from when jungwon pushed him off his bike in eighth grade. you could reach for him. you could close the distance. you could kiss him. 

you don’t move, not at first. you just sit there, watching him, feeling his hand warm against your wrist, his thumb brushing once against your skin like he’s asking something without saying it. the distance between you is nothing now, and he’s close enough that you can see the way his lashes fan downward, the faint crease between his brows, the softness in his expression that wasn’t there when he first stepped out of that car. his hand moves slowly, from your wrist to your jaw, fingertips grazing up the side of your neck. his touch is careful, your breath catches, and he feels it, you know he does, but he doesn’t stop. his palm settles against your cheek, his thumb resting just below your eye.

he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then he leans in. his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels like an exhale, full of everything that’s gone unsaid. he kisses you like he’s afraid to startle you, like he’s still checking if you’ll let him stay. and you do, you kiss him back without hesitation, your hand moving to his chest like you need something to hold onto. his breath hitches and he shifts closer, legs brushing yours, the heat of his body pulling you in. his other hand moves to your waist, anchoring. you tilt your head, your lips parting under his, and that’s when the kiss deepens.

you feel him everywhere — in the way his thumb strokes your cheek, in the press of his chest against yours, in the gentle sound he makes when you pull him in a little closer. the world narrows. the couch disappears. the years fall away. there’s only him, only this, only the you falling into together like no time has passed at all.

when he finally pulls back, just enough to breathe, he doesn’t go far. his forehead rests against yours. your noses brush. his hand stays on your cheek. your eyes stay closed.

“i’ve wanted to do that since i saw you standing outside the diner,” he says, voice low, breath warm against your skin. “actually, since before that.”

you smile, overwhelmed, a little breathless. “i know.”

you open your eyes to find his already on you. wide, tender, shining. “i didn’t think i’d ever get the chance again,” he adds.

you reach up, fingers finding the side of his neck. “you have it now.”

and he kisses you again, no pause this time. his mouth finds yours with more confidence now, more feeling. the way you mold into him is instinctive, your hand slides up into his hair, his fingers spread across your back. the kiss is soft, but it’s not shy. every press of his lips says i missed you, every shift of your body says i’m still here.

his lips don’t leave yours for long. there’s no rush, but there’s urgency, not of time, but of want. of having waited too long and not knowing how to say it any other way. his hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. he shifts closer, his body pressing into yours with a kind of hesitation that disappears as soon as you don’t stop him. your knees bump. your hands move without thinking, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. you feel the weight of him then — not just the physical, but everything he’s holding. 

he leans into you, and you lean back, and the cushions give under your weight as he gently guides you down, your back meeting the couch, his body following. he hovers over you for just a moment, eyes meeting yours like he’s asking again, silently, if this is okay. and you answer the only way you can: you pull him in.

his mouth finds yours with more fire this time. it’s still careful, still steady, but there's a heat now that wasn't there before, something that builds in the way he presses you into the couch, the way his hand finds your waist, the way he exhales against your lips. you feel the weight of his body above you, his knee slipping between yours, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. your hands explore him like you’re tracing something familiar and new at the same time — the slope of his shoulder, the nape of his neck, the muscles shifting under your palms.

he pulls back just slightly, mouth still close, breath catching as he looks down at you, and then he says it, voice low and rough and full of awe, “god, you’re so beautiful.” you inhale sharply, eyes locking with his. he kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. “always were,” he murmurs between kisses. his lips trail lower, grazing your neck, making your whole body tighten. “you don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispers.

your breath hitches. your fingers tighten around his back. he kisses you again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. every shift of his body against yours makes your skin burn in the best way. there’s something new here, a closeness that’s never been touched before, but was always waiting. you find it overwhelming, but it’s not scary.  his hands move to your hips, grounding you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go — like he couldn’t, even if he tried. his fingers dig in just slightly, and it sends a shiver through your body. you exhale, a soft, breathy sound you didn’t mean to let out, and he hears it.

he kisses you harder. his mouth pressing into yours like he’s starving for it now. you feel his tongue slide against yours and you moan softly into his mouth, and that’s when you feel his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, skin against skin, warm and steady and reverent. he groans when he touches you. low, like it’s involuntary, like just feeling you beneath his hands undoes something in him. you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently, messing it up in a way that makes him hiss under his breath. he leans into it, hips pressing forward, his body sinking further into yours, like he needs to feel you everywhere at once. his knee shifts between your thighs, pressing in. you don’t know if he means to do it or if it’s just instinct, but it sends a wave of heat through your core that makes your back arch slightly into him. you let out a breathless moan and your hips twitch without meaning to, and he feels it. his breath stutters, his hands holding tighter.

“fuck,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “you make the prettiest sounds.”

you let out another soft, shaky moan when his thigh presses in again, more deliberate this time, like he’s testing something, like he’s trying to see how far he can take you with just this. your head spins. his hands slide further up under your shirt, fingers spreading across your waist, his palms dragging up the bare skin of your stomach. you gasp softly when the cool air of the room hits the warmth of your skin, and he leans back just enough to look at you. his lips are parted. his eyes heavy and full of something dark and warm and wanting.

“can i take this off?” he asks, voice low, almost careful. “just your shirt.”

you nod, but it’s not enough — you’re already whispering, “yeah. yes. it’s okay.”

he lifts it slowly, his fingers brushing your ribs, the fabric sliding up over your head and landing somewhere behind the couch. his eyes drop to you, his gaze moving over your chest, your stomach, the way your skin is flushed and rising with every breath.

“jesus,” he breathes out, more to himself than to you. “you’re... fuck.”

you can’t look away from him. the way he’s looking at you, like he’s not sure if he should touch you or fall to his knees, makes your whole body ache. he leans in again, this time slower. he kisses your collarbone. the center of your chest. his hands still holding your waist, guiding you gently as his mouth maps a path down the center of you. your hips move again, and his thigh finds its place between yours, pressing up, grinding just enough to pull another sound from you, one that surprises even you.

“that’s it,” he whispers against your skin, one hand sliding up to cup your ribcage. “just like that. let me hear you.”

you feel it all. his body above yours, your legs tangled under him. the weight of his thigh against your center, the warmth of his mouth, the hands that can’t seem to stop touching you. you don’t know where this is going yet — not fully — but right now, it’s everything. right now, it’s his breath on your skin, your hands in his hair, your lips swollen from kissing him over and over again. it’s the years that fell away the second he touched you. it’s the way he’s looking at you now, like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.

his hands never stop moving, dragging along your sides, your stomach, and he leans back just slightly, just enough to take you in again, his eyes dark and full of something that makes your skin heat under the weight of it. his fingers slide up one strap of your bra and down your arm, until the thin band slips from your shoulder. he presses his mouth there immediately — warm kisses, one after the other, his lips brushing over the new skin, then he bites gently, just enough to make you gasp, and he groans at the sound.

you moan softly, helplessly, when his mouth gets close to your breast, and that’s when he stops. just for a second. he lifts his head and looks down at you, breathing heavy, his hands still firm on your waist.

“do you really want this?” he asks, voice low and serious.

you nod right away, then say it out loud, because you want him to hear it. “i’ve been waiting for this for a really long time, actually.”

his eyes flash, jaw tightening, like the words hit deeper than they should. he groans, low in his throat, and then he’s on you again, kissing your neck, your collarbone, and you feel his breath, warm and fast, as he speaks between kisses. “yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough. “what exactly have you been waiting for?”

you let out a breathy laugh, your fingers digging into his back without thinking, and whisper, “i was waiting for you to make me yours.”

he curses under his breath, something sharp and guttural, and you barely have time to react before he’s reaching behind you, tugging your bra down with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin. “fuck,” he mutters, eyes locked on yours. “i’m gonna make you mine, then.”

his touch changes — still gentle, but firmer now, more certain. he cups your breast like he’s wanted to for years, his thumb brushing your nipple before he leans in and takes it into his mouth. your back arches without meaning to, a moan slipping out of your lips as your hand flies to his hair again, pulling slightly, needing something to hold onto. he groans into your skin, the vibration making you shiver. his other hand slides under your back, supporting you, keeping you close. your hips roll instinctively beneath him, your legs parting more, needing more of him everywhere. your nails drag across his back, not too hard, but enough to make him breathe harder, to make him growl softly against your chest.

“so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you’re really here. can’t believe i get to touch you like this.”

his voice is raw now, every word soaked in years of longing and frustration and heat. and you’re melting under him, body buzzing, mind gone, skin on fire. his mouth is still on your breast, warm and wet, his tongue circling your nipple in slow, maddening strokes before he sucks it into his mouth again. and while he’s doing it, you feel him shift his hips down into you, slow and deliberate, grinding his hardness right where you need him most.

your whole body jerks in response, hips tilting up into him, a sharp, breathless moan leaving your lips before you can stop it. his thigh is still between your legs, but now his cock is pressing right against your core, even through the layers of clothing — and it’s too much, not enough, exactly what you’ve been aching for. he keeps moving his hips, slow, hard, dragging himself against you like he knows exactly how close you are to falling apart.

you whimper again, high and needy, your hands clutching at his shoulders, at his back, at anything you can reach. “jay,” you breathe, voice thin and shaky, “please.”

he pauses, not pulling away, just lifting his head slightly from your chest to look at you. his eyes are dark, pupils blown, lips parted and wet. “please what, love?” he asks, his voice low and rough and teasing. he knows. of course he knows. but he wants to hear it.

you stare up at him, completely undone and open. “i want you,” you whisper. “i want you so bad it hurts.”

his breath leaves him in a rough exhale, and before you can say anything else, his hands are on your waist, lifting you and pulling you up onto his lap, your thighs straddling him, your chest still bare against his flannel. you can feel how hard he is now, pressed right between your legs, and the friction makes your head spin.

he kisses you hard, deep and messy, all teeth and tongue and want, and then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “tell me where.”

you blink, dazed. “bedroom. down the hall. second door.”

he stands with you still wrapped around him like it’s nothing, like he was meant to carry you. you hold onto him, arms around his neck, mouth brushing his jaw as he moves fast, focused, straight down the hall. he kicks the door open gently with his foot and walks you inside, setting you down carefully on the bed like you’re something he doesn’t want to drop, like he’s still trying to be careful even when he’s about to lose control.

“fuck,” he breathes, eyes raking over you as he stands over the edge of the bed. “look at you.”

he crawls over you slowly, hands braced on either side of your head, and starts pressing kisses to your skin again — your jawline, your cheek, the soft space behind your ear, down your throat. every kiss is hot, open-mouthed, a little desperate. he whispers between them, voice hoarse.

“so perfect.”

“been dreaming of this.”

“can’t believe i get to have you like this.”

his hands roam over your ribs, your sides, your thighs. his body never leaves yours. every part of him is pressed to you, and you’re burning, pulsing, so far gone you can barely form thoughts. your fingers dig into his back, his arms, his hair, anywhere you can pull him closer. you moan again when he kisses the space between your breasts, grinding into you through his jeans, and he growls softly at the sound, kissing lower, biting gently at your hipbone.

“gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers against your skin. “gonna take my time with you. finally.”

you arch into him, legs falling open wider, and he groans, pulling back just enough to look at you — all flushed and panting beneath him, your eyes glassy, lips kiss-swollen.

“you’re mine tonight,” he says, voice wrecked. “every inch of you.”

you nod, breathless, your whole body trembling. “i’m yours,” you whisper.

and that’s all he needs. he pulls back just enough to sit on his knees between your legs, breathing hard, his hands moving to the buttons of his flannel. his eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls it off slowly, letting the fabric fall to the floor beside the bed. underneath, there’s just a worn black t-shirt and you watch, wide-eyed and barely breathing, as he lifts the hem and peels it off too.

he’s lean, all muscle and sharp lines, but not in a showy way. more like someone who’s lived in his body, worked in it, played night after night with a guitar strapped across his chest. his stomach is tight, his arms strong, his collarbones prominent in the low light. and god, he’s beautiful. you swallow, your fingers twitching against the sheets, and he sees the way you react to him, the way your eyes move over every inch of his chest like you can’t help it. like you’ve been thinking about this too long not to stare now that he’s finally in front of you like this.

he smirks, just a little. not cocky. just knowing. “you okay, love?” he asks, voice low and teasing.

you nod quickly, your lips parting around a soft gasp when he leans down again, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. “you’re even better than i imagined,” you whisper, like it slips out before you can stop it.

he groans at that, something low and deep, and kisses you again, slow and hot and full of tongue, before he starts moving lower. his hands find your waist again, fingers sliding under the hem of your pants. he kisses your stomach once, just above the waistband, then looks up at you through his lashes.

“can i?” he asks, voice a little rough now, like he’s holding back.

you nod, and your voice is small but certain. “yeah. please.”

he hums like the answer physically affects him, and starts pulling your pants down slowly, dragging the fabric over your hips, your thighs, down your calves, until they’re gone. you’re left in just your underwear, legs spread for him, chest rising and falling fast, and he sits back for a second just to take it in. he lets out a sharp, helpless sound when he sees you.

“fuck, baby,” he says, eyes roaming. “look at you.”

his hands come to your thighs, thumbs brushing the inside where your skin is already hot and shaking. he leans in, kisses one side gently, then the other — slow, open-mouthed kisses to the softest parts of you, places no one’s ever touched the way he does now. his lips find the crease of your thigh, right where it meets your center, and you gasp, your hips jumping slightly. he chuckles against your skin, breath hot.

he kisses you through your underwear next, a soft press of his mouth right where you need him most, and it makes your entire body jolt. you whine, your hand flying to his hair, tugging lightly. he moans at the contact, at the scent of you, his nose pressing lightly against the fabric. and then he breathes you in, slow and deep.

“jesus,” he mutters against you. “you smell so fucking good.” his hands tighten on your thighs. he presses another kiss through the damp fabric, then another, dragging it out, letting you feel every bit of the tease. your hips roll again, trying to get more, chasing the heat of his mouth, and he just smiles. “fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says softly, almost like he’s in awe. 

you can’t respond, not with real words, just a soft, shaky moan and your fingers digging deeper into his hair as he keeps kissing between your legs, building the pressure, praising you under his breath like it’s a prayer. your legs are trembling now, thighs twitching with every breath. he groans into you, deep and low, like he’s losing his mind just from being this close. then his hands slide up your thighs, slow and firm, curling around your hips as he pulls his mouth back just enough to look at you.

“can i take these off?” he asks, voice dark and tender at the same time, like he’s already halfway gone.

you nod fast, desperate, breathless. “please.”

he hums at the way you say it, like you’re giving him everything he’s ever wanted. and then, slowly, he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, and pulls. he watches as he drags them down your legs, never breaking eye contact for too long. he tosses the fabric aside without care, like nothing matters but you now, here, like this. his eyes drop to your core, and he groans, deep in his chest. “fuck,” he breathes. “you’re so wet already.”

your cheeks burn, but you don’t hide. you can’t, not when he looks at you like that, like you’re sacred. 

he kisses your thighs again, then lower. kisses your mound. kisses the soft skin right beside where you need him most. teasing, worshipping. and then finally he leans in and licks a slow, flat stripe from your entrance up to your clit. your whole body arches. your hand flies to his hair again and you let out a sound that’s not even a moan — just a desperate breath, cut short by how hard it hits.

he groans into you. “that’s it,” he murmurs, licking again, slower this time. “that’s what i wanted.”

his hands slide under your thighs and hold you open, steady, as he buries his face between your legs. his tongue moves like he knows you already, like he’s been dreaming about this for years — licking, sucking, teasing. he focuses on your clit in soft, steady circles, then moves down, tongue fucking you, groaning every time you moan for him. you can’t stop moving. your hips grind against his mouth, your thighs tense, your stomach pulling tight. and he just holds you there, letting you fall apart in his hands.

“you taste so good, baby,” he whispers between strokes. “so sweet. fuck.”

you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, the pressure building so fast you don’t know what to do with it. he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even slow down. his mouth stays on you, perfect and hot and overwhelming, his hands holding your thighs open as he works you open with his tongue. when you moan his name again, sharp and breathless, “jay—,” he groans like it physically affects him, like it’s the only thing he ever wants to hear again.

“that’s it,” he says. “say my name again. let me hear you.”

every movement feels intentional — like he’s learning what makes you whimper, what makes your legs shake, what makes you cling tighter to his hair and moan his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known how to say. his mouth is relentless, warm and wet and perfect. his hands hold you firm like you might slip away if he lets go. the coil inside you is tightening fast now, heat building between your hips, up your spine, down your thighs. your whole body arches into him, and he groans at the way you move against his mouth.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby. come on. let go,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. you gasp, your fingers fisting the sheets now, eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding. and then his mouth sucks your clit just right and your whole body shatters. the orgasm hits hard.

your back arches off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. your legs tremble, toes curling, thighs squeezing around his head, and he just keeps licking you through it, gentler now, helping you ride it out, coaxing every last bit of it from your body with his mouth. “fuck,” you breathe, over and over, your voice shaking.

he finally pulls back when you’re twitching, your body too sensitive, your breath caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh. he kisses your thighs again, affectionate, almost reverent, and then he sits up. his face is flushed, lips swollen, chin wet with you. he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. and then, slowly, he reaches down and undoes his jeans. you watch, still trembling, chest rising and falling too fast. your eyes follow his hands as he pushes the denim down his hips, revealing the outline of his cock through his boxers — hard, straining, undeniable. he kicks the jeans off, and then he just stands there for a second, breathless, staring down at you with something between hunger and awe.

he leans over you again, one hand braced beside your head, the other still at the waistband of his boxers, pausing for a moment as his eyes roam over your face, your body, your chest rising and falling from the high he just gave you. you meet his gaze, and there’s something new in it now — something softer than before. not lust, not quite. something closer to reverence.

“i’ve thought about this,” he says, voice low, breath shaky. “so many times. more than i ever should’ve.”

you reach up, your hand cupping his cheek, fingers brushing along his jaw, grounding him. “me too.”

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second. then he kisses you again like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t quite say out loud yet. you taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to whisper, “i missed you so fucking much—” his hips grind against yours through the thin fabric still between you, “you. all of you.”

“i missed you too,” you whisper, and it comes out raw and honest.

he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck. then he finally pushes his boxers down, and you feel the heat of him against your thigh, thick, hard and heavy. you look down and your mouth goes dry. it’s overwhelming, in the best way — not just the size of him, but what it means. that he’s here. with you, like this.

he moves between your legs, settling into the space that always felt like his, and pauses. “you sure?” he asks again, his voice quieter now. steadier.

“yes,” you say, without hesitation. “please.”

he groans, and reaches down, running the head of his cock through your slick, coating himself in you. the pressure makes you gasp again, your hips twitching toward him, desperate to feel him where you’ve needed him most. he lines himself up, eyes never leaving yours, and then he pushes in slowly and carefully, letting you feel every inch as he stretches you open. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching, hands flying to his shoulders. he curses low under his breath, jaw tight, eyes squeezed shut for a second.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you feel like heaven. you feel... fuck, baby.” your fingers dig into him as he bottoms out, buried completely inside you, and he stays there for a moment — not moving — just breathing with you, forehead resting against yours. “you okay?” he murmurs.

you nod. “perfect.”

​​he starts to move, slow at first, with deep, steady thrusts that make your breath stutter with every roll of his hips. the friction is perfect, the heat between you unbearable. every sound he makes — every grunt, every whisper of your name — pushes you closer to the edge again. his hands roam constantly, like he can’t choose where to touch because he wants all of you at once. he kisses you between thrusts, muttering things into your mouth like so fucking good, and i missed you, and you were always mine.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper, tighter, and he groans like he’s breaking apart. his rhythm builds, his hips slamming into yours with more force, more urgency. it’s not rough, not careless, but it’s just that he needs this. needs you, every part of you, and you need him too. the sounds of skin and breath and moans fill the room, tangled with his name on your lips over and over again. “jay—fuck—”

he kisses you hard, messy and open-mouthed, his tongue sliding against yours as he pounds into you, the headboard knocking gently behind you, his hands everywhere. one grips your thigh, the other pressing into the mattress by your head. and then his hand moves up, fingers brushing your jaw, your lips, and you part them instinctively, letting him slide his thumb inside your mouth. he watches you as you suck on it, his eyes dark, mouth falling open. “jesus christ,” he breathes. “you’re... fuck.” 

you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb, moaning around it, and his hips stutter. he growls low, pulls it out, and brings that hand down to grip your waist as he fucks you harder and deeper, every thrust dragging against the sweetest spot inside you. “you feel so good,” he mutters, voice wrecked, barely coherent. “so fucking good. like you were made for me.” you cry out again, hips rocking to meet him, your nails raking down his back. your whole body tightens, thighs trembling, your second orgasm crashing close like a wave.

and then he says it, broken, breathless, true. “i loved you. all this time,” he gasps, pressing his forehead to yours, thrusts getting sloppy, more frantic. “i still fucking love you.”

you come undone with a cry — loud, raw, desperate. your whole body arches into him, clenching around his cock, dragging him down with you. you tremble under him, pleasure blinding, his name falling from your lips like prayer. he groans, deep and guttural, and pulls out at the last second, fisting his cock once, twice, before he comes with a growl, hot and thick across your stomach. he jerks in his own hand, breathing ragged, eyes locked on you as he spills everything onto your skin.

his forehead drops to your shoulder. his body trembles above you, he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your neck. “mine,” he whispers. “you’re mine. you always were.”

you hold him close, heart pounding, your legs still wrapped around his waist. and for the first time in years, everything feels like it’s exactly where it’s meant to be. you stay like that for a moment, his body heavy over yours, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, your breath slowly returning to something close to normal. your skin is damp with sweat, your chest still rising and falling too fast, and you can feel his heartbeat against your ribs, loud and unsteady.

he doesn’t move right away. just presses his lips once, soft, against your neck, then your collarbone, then rests his forehead there like he can’t bear to let go of the closeness just yet. you slide your fingers up into his hair, brushing it gently back from his forehead, and whisper, “we’re a mess.”

he laughs, low and breathless, and lifts his head enough to look down at you. his gaze moves to your stomach, the evidence of him still there, and he hums, a little sheepish. “let me clean you up,” he murmurs. you nod, and he leans over the side of the bed, pulling a crumpled t-shirt from your laundry basket nearby — one of his, you realize, from years ago, soft and faded. he uses it carefully, wiping your stomach, being gentle like you’re fragile now, like he’s still not done taking care of you.

you watch him the whole time. the way his jaw clenches in focus, the way his hands move. the way he keeps stealing glances at your face, like he needs to check if you’re still with him. and when he’s done, he tosses the shirt aside and settles beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. you turn toward him instinctively, tucking yourself against his side, your leg draping over his hip, your hand resting flat on his chest. he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, almost afraid of the quiet that’s settled around you both.

you nod, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder. “more than okay.”

there’s a pause, and he shifts a little, like he’s trying to find the right words. his fingers trace slow circles on your back, his breath even now, steady against your temple. “i meant what i said,” he murmurs eventually. you blink, and tilt your head to look at him. “about loving you,” he says. his voice doesn’t shake, but it’s quiet. like he’s scared to say it too loud, scared it’ll disappear if he does. “i didn’t know how to carry it back then,” he continues. “but i still love you, even after all this time.” you don’t interrupt, you let him speak.  “it never stopped,” he says. “not really. i loved you when i was writing songs in hotel rooms. i loved you when i saw your name on old letters and had to stop myself from riding to your city. i loved you when i stepped out of that car and saw you again for the first time.”

he turns fully toward you now, brushing your hair behind your ear. “and i love you right now,” he says. “more than i know how to explain.” your throat tightens and your eyes burn. you reach up, touch his face, and trace the line of his cheek with your thumb.

“i love you too,” you whisper. “always did.”

he leans in then, kisses you slow and soft. nothing rushed, nothing hungry, just love.

just all the things you both kept to yourselves for years, finally allowed to be spoken in the quiet of your room, under soft sheets and the faint hum of the city outside. you rest your head against his chest again, and he holds you tighter. 

“can we stay like this for a while?” you ask.

he kisses the top of your head. “as long as you want.”

and for the first time in a long time, there’s no distance. no almosts, no waiting.

and he sleeps over that night. not because you asked, not because he asked. just because neither of you ever considered the alternative.

you fall asleep tangled in each other, your leg over his, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, his breath steady against your neck. his skin is warm, even under the cool sheets, and at some point in the night, he murmurs something — too soft to catch — but it makes you smile in your sleep. when you wake up, the sun’s filtering through the blinds in thin lines, and he’s already awake.

he’s propped up on one elbow, watching you, hair messy, smile soft. “good morning,” he says, voice low, raspy from sleep.

you blink slowly, stretch a little, and smile back. “hi.”

he kisses your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulls you closer like he doesn’t want to leave the bed — like he could stay like this forever. but he can’t, and you both know that.

“i should get back to the hotel,” he says eventually, eyes apologetic. “they’re probably losing their minds trying to find me.”

you sigh, nestle into his chest for one more second. “what time’s the last show?”

“tonight,” he says. “city next over. it’s the end of the leg, then we get a few weeks off.”

you nod slowly. “you can use the phone,” you say, sitting up, brushing your hair back. “i don’t think it’s been used in days.”

he grins. “i missed landlines.” he pulls on his pants and shirt from the night before, pads barefoot to the phone in the corner of your living room, dialing a number from memory. you hear him talk to someone — probably the security guy — laughing a little, apologizing, promising he’ll be down in twenty. when he hangs up, he walks back toward you, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on the edges of your apartment like he wants to remember it exactly as it is. “they’ll be here soon,” he says, voice lower now. “i should go.”

you nod. try to smile, but it’s small. he watches you for a second. then steps closer. his hands land on your waist. his forehead rests against yours.

“come with me,” he says.

your heart stutters. “what?”

“just for the night. the last show. it’s nothing big. we’ll be back by morning. or—” he laughs softly, eyes still on yours. “we won’t. we’ll figure it out.”

you blink. “jay…”

“i know it’s sudden,” he says. “i know we haven’t figured out what this is. but i don’t care. i just want you there.” you hesitate. not because you don’t want to go — but because it feels big. because everything between you always has. he leans in closer, kisses the corner of your mouth. “come with me,” he says again. softer this time. “please.”

he looks at you, you look at him. and then you’re moving.

you spin around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you head to your bedroom, pulling open drawers, grabbing whatever you can — a pair of jeans, a toothbrush, your tape player. he laughs from the hallway, breathless, half in disbelief. “i’ll take that as a yes,” he calls out.

you yell back, “shut up and help me find my shoes.” he grins, already heading into your closet like he’s lived here forever. and just like that, you’re going.

before you leave, you scribble a note on the back of an envelope you found near the phone, the ink shaky from how fast you’re writing. you fold it in half and slide it under the mat by your door. 

yunjin, if you pass by here — went on tour with jay. just one night. back tomorrow. probably. maybe.

you don’t sign it. you don’t need to. she’ll know, and then you go. the drive to the next city is quiet at first. the windows rolled halfway down, your bag in the backseat, jay’s hand resting on your thigh the entire time. there’s music playing low on the radio — tom petty, bryan adams, someone you don’t catch — and the sky is the kind of gray that doesn’t mean rain, just distance. he looks over at you every few minutes like he still can’t believe you’re there. like he’s afraid to blink and find the passenger seat empty.

you get to the venue around three. the crew’s already setting up, cables and amps everywhere, the soundcheck halfway through. someone hands jay a setlist. someone else tells him where catering is. he keeps looking back at you like he’s trying not to lose you in the noise. you don’t get lost.

you follow him backstage, watch him tune his guitar, watch him run through scales absentmindedly with his eyes half on you. you sit on a speaker case and talk with one of the backup singers for half an hour about lip balm and tour food and how long the drives get between cities. you see the way the rest of the band looks at jay when he plays — the quiet respect, the ease, the way he’s earned his space up there. you don’t say anything. you don’t need to. and when the show starts, you watch it from the side of the stage. 

the lights are blinding. the bass shakes the floor. the crowd screams in waves, louder with every song. and he plays like he’s alive in a way you’ve never seen before, like every note is another word he doesn’t have to say out loud. you watch his fingers move across the strings, his head tilted back, sweat dripping down his temple. and all you can think is i’m so fucking proud of him. he looks at you once during a quiet moment between songs. you smile, he does too.

after the show, the band’s buzzing. half-dressed, towel-draped, beer-in-hand kind of buzzing. someone hands you both a drink. someone else tries to convince you to stay for another leg of the tour. you laugh it off. or maybe you don’t.

you end up in a hotel room around two in the morning. his guitar still in the corner, your makeup smudged, your voice a little hoarse from singing along. he presses his forehead to yours before you fall asleep, whispers, “you were my favorite part of today.” you don’t answer. you just kiss him.

the next morning, the world feels slower. the windows are fogged. the coffee tastes stronger. he sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless, one sock on, and glances at you like he’s thinking too hard. “you know,” he says, not looking up, “this could be a thing. you and me. doing this.”

you pull the sheet up over your chest, lean on your elbow. “you mean… shows? cities?”

he nods. finally meets your gaze. “yeah. if you wanted.”

you don’t answer right away. because maybe this was supposed to be one night. maybe you were supposed to go home in the morning. but maybe you won’t. you think about the noise, the lights, the music. about his hand on your thigh in the car. about his mouth on your skin the night before. about his voice saying “my favorite part of today.” so you look at him — hair messy, guitar pick still in his pocket, smile soft, and you think: maybe i could get used to this.

and your life changed a little after that day. not in the kind of way that people notice from the outside, not right away, but something shifted. you came back home feeling different. lighter, like someone who finally let herself say yes, like someone who wasn’t afraid of living anymore.

you graduated two months later. your cap didn’t sit right on your head and your gown was wrinkled from the car ride, but none of that mattered. not when you saw him in the crowd, leaning against the back railing, sunglasses on, biting back a grin when you caught his eye. he didn’t bring flowers. he brought his car. you hadn’t packed a bag. he didn’t ask if you wanted to go, and you didn’t ask where.

you watched a concert in a city you never thought you’d see, slept in a motel with pink walls and a broken ice machine, woke up to him humming something under his breath while brushing his teeth, one hand tangled in your hair like he couldn’t believe you were real. sometimes you went alone. just you and him. sometimes you brought a friend — yunjin once, who danced side stage like she’d been doing it her whole life, who whispered he’s so gone for you, you know that, right? into your ear after the show, and kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

sometimes you both passed through home. once, you and jay picked up jungwon for a weekend. no plan, just his overnight bag and your mixtape in the stereo. you ended up at the coast. jay let jungwon drive for part of the way, and you both screamed when he almost missed the exit. you slept three across in one bed, your feet tangled, your ribs hurting from laughing. jay played guitar on the porch of the tiny rental, barefoot and happy, and jungwon fell asleep with popcorn in his lap. 

no one talked about what it meant, but everyone felt it anyway.

you started carrying a small bag in the back of your closet, just in case. a toothbrush. a sweater. a cassette or two. he’d show up sometimes without warning, always leaning against the doorframe like he’d never left. “thought we could drive,” he’d say. and you’d go, you always went. you weren’t following him, you weren’t chasing anything. you were just there together making it up as you went along. saying yes to the kind of life that didn’t always fit in lines or schedules or plans. but fit him, and it fit you.

fit this version of love that moved, and stretched, and stayed. the summer blurred like that. with half-packed bags and gas station snacks, and hotel keys that never worked the first time. with sweat on your skin and his songs in your ears. with soft hands and sleepy grins and “come here” whispered into your neck in the backseat of his car at rest stops. with your feet up on the dashboard, and his fingers tracing your knee at red lights. it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

you got used to the rhythm. not just of the music, but of the life. sleeping in unfamiliar beds. brushing your teeth in gas station bathrooms. ordering breakfast in diners that smelled like the seventies and played the same four songs on repeat. you stopped asking where you were. stopped keeping track of state lines. stopped needing to define what you were doing. but you weren’t trying to escape anything, you just didn’t need to stand still anymore.

some mornings, you woke up to the sound of his guitar in the other room, already strumming something into shape. other mornings, he was still asleep, one hand wrapped around your waist, his face pressed into your shoulder like you were the softest thing he’d ever touched. there were fights, too. about timing, about exhaustion, about space. sometimes he shut down. sometimes you disappeared into the crowd before the encore. but every time, you found your way back. not with apologies, always — but with hands reaching in the dark. with quiet dinners. with the word stay whispered into your hair.

you made friends with the crew. with the other musicians. you had your own backstage pass, but mostly you stayed out of the way. you read books in the greenroom and  you painted your nails on the tour bus floor. you stole his hoodies, of course. you took pictures you never printed. and in every city, he kissed you like it was the first time. you never asked what would happen after the tour ended, and he never offered a version of forever. but something in you both knew that this, whatever this was, had already become part of your bones.

one night, after a show in a city that felt too loud even in the fading hours, you and jay found yourselves driving back to your hometown. not just a quick visit, but the kind of week where time stretches slow and familiar. you needed a break from the tour, from the noise. the car hummed softly down the old roads you both knew by heart. the tour bus felt miles behind you, like a distant memory. the car was small, just enough space for both of you and a couple of guitars resting in the backseat. you didn’t say much, but the silence was easy and comfortable. jay hummed a melody low enough that it was more felt than heard, his fingers tapping softly on the steering wheel like it was another instrument. you reached over and squeezed his hand without thinking, and he glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips, like he’d been waiting for that all night.

when you arrived at your parents’ house, your mom opened the door, and the second she saw you, her eyes welled up with tears, of course. your dad, teased as always, “didn’t think you’d grow at all while you were gone.” and even though it was the same old line, you could tell he meant every word, his voice warm with relief. jay stood beside you, shifting awkwardly at first, but your parents welcomed him like he’d been part of the family forever — not just jungwon’s best friend, but the one who made their daughter smile in a way they hadn’t seen before.

the days that followed were a patchwork of memories and new moments stitched together. you went back to the park where you and jay had found each other again after you left for college, trying to make sense of everything that had changed. the diner where you’d shared late-night fries and whispered secrets during winter break, the neon sign buzzing softly overhead, still humming the soundtrack of your youth. you stood by the lake where the sky had caught fire the night of your first kiss, the water reflecting the soft glow of twilight. and then there was his childhood bedroom, tucked away in the basement of his parents’ house, walls still lined with posters, a guitar resting against the bed, and a window that looked out onto the quiet street. you remember the night he played “just like heaven” on his guitar there, fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and hope. it was before he left for college, before the silence stretched long between you. that song, that moment, stayed in your chest like a promise, one you both carried through the years.

that week, wrapped in the comfort of old places and quiet laughter, felt like a pause in the endless moving. a chance to remember where you came from, and to hold on to the pieces that made you whole.

and sometime in late october, you were at a city on the coast, windy, a little gray. the venue was old and charming. he was quiet that day, but not distant, just thoughtful. kept checking his setlist and tapping his pick against his thigh. didn’t talk much in soundcheck, and you knew better than to push. you watched from the wings, your arms crossed over your chest, the laminate pass hanging loose around your neck. and when they got to the second half of the show, the part where they sometimes rotated songs in or out, someone leaned over and told you he was going to do something different. you didn’t know what that meant, not until he stepped forward, a little closer to the mic, and looked out at the crowd like he was looking for something in it.

“we’ve been on the road for a while now,” he said, voice steady. “and this next one’s not ours. but it’s always been… mine. in a way.”

you felt it before he played the first chord. your breath caught in your throat. he glanced sideways, just once, just for a second, and then he started playing.

“show me, show me, show me how you do that trick…”

and your heart cracked wide open. because just like heaven wasn’t just a song, it was your song. from the very beginning, from that spring you thought you’d lost him, from mixtapes on train rides, from letters tucked into jacket pockets. from him playing it for you in his childhood bedroom, dreaming of what it’d feel like to be wanted the way those lyrics wanted someone.

you left the venue late that night, your hand in his, your cheeks still warm, your chest still aching in the best way. and no one said “the end” because no one needed to. some stories don’t end when the lights go down. they end quietly, in moments like that: in a guitar string still vibrating, in a look across the stage, in the memory of a song you never stopped hearing.

and in the way you still felt like heaven to him. always.

author's note: first of all… i’m so sorry for taking forever to update this 😭 life got busy, motivation disappeared, my brain shut down for like days, you know how it is. but we’re BACK and i’m so, so happy i finally got to share this part of the story with you

writing this second half felt like coming home in a nostalgic and painful and soft way. i always knew i wanted this fic to feel like growing up, and getting older, and realizing that love doesn’t always disappear just because time does, it just shifts. and maybe, if you’re lucky, it comes back <3

thank you for reading, screaming, crying, waiting, messaging, and just being here. this fic means the world to me. if you made it this far ilyyyyy!!!! you are the moment <3

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