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onlyforyoukook · 2 months ago

Text

Bound in gold

paring: mingi x fem¡reader

synopsis: y/n, born into a corrupt family’s wealth, grows up unaware of the truth. When her family loses everything, they push her to marry Mingi for financial gain. But knowing the truth now, y/n refuses and chooses to move away, but something brings her back.

wc: 4.5k

genre: one shot, yandere, angst, infidelity.

You had everything. Wealth, power, a life others could only dream of. But it was never your dream. it was theirs.

Born into a family of privilege, you grew up surrounded by luxury. Grand mansions, diamond jewelry, private jets nothing was out of reach. People spoke your father’s name with admiration, but behind closed doors, they whispered. You never knew why.

And then, there was Mingi.

He had always been there, like a constant in your life. You were both young when you met, two children playing in golden halls. Mingi was from a family just as rich as yours, but there was always something different about him. He never let the wealth define him the way others did.

More than that, he was gentle.

Gentler than your father’s firm grip on your shoulder.

Gentler than your mother’s sharp tongue when she reminded you who you were supposed to be. Mingi was the only one who ever made you feel like just you.

But there was a truth you didn’t know.

Mingi’s family used to be close with yours. Until your parents cut them off. Betrayed them in business, leaving them to struggle while yours thrived. His family wanted revenge, but when the time came, and they saw you a sweet, clueless little girl they couldn’t do it. Instead, they sent Mingi to be your friend. Not to hurt you. Not to use you.

But to save you.

And for years, he tried.

The night everything fell apart, you were in your father’s study, a place you had never truly belonged. Papers were scattered across the desk, numbers flashing on a laptop screen. The air was thick with tension.

“We lost everything,” your father said. His voice, always strong, now wavered. “Everything. We need to fix this.”

Your mother sat beside him, her nails digging into her silk dress. “There’s only one solution.”

Then they looked at you.

You already knew.

“You want me to marry Mingi.” Your voice was hollow.

Your mother straightened. “It’s not just about you. It’s about all of us. His family is wealthy more than we ever were. If you marry him, we can rebuild.”

You scoffed. “You think I can just use him like that?”

“Of course, you can.” Your father’s expression hardened. “You grew up learning how to survive, didn’t you? You think love is more important than survival?”

Love.

Did you love Mingi?

You weren’t sure. There was something there, something lingering in every glance, in every touch. But this wasn’t about love. This was about desperation.

And you refused to be part of it.

Mingi found you later that night, standing on the balcony of your family’s estate. The city stretched below, lights flickering like distant stars. You didn’t turn when he stepped beside you.

“You heard, didn’t you?” you asked.

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then, softer, “What are you going to do?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the railing. “I’m leaving.”

Mingi tensed beside you. “Leaving?”

You turned to face him. “I can’t be part of this anymore. My whole life—everything I had—it wasn’t real. It was built on lies, and I let myself believe it because it was easier that way. But I know the truth now, and I can’t stay here.”

He searched your face. “And what about me?”

Your breath hitched.

“Mingi…”

“Don’t do this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I do,” you said, voice breaking. “Because if I stay, I’ll never know who I am without them.”

Mingi’s jaw clenched. He had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it easier.

Finally, he exhaled, stepping closer. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, careful. Gentle.

“I would’ve married you, you know.”

Your chest ached. “I know.”

And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it. A world where you were free, but not alone. A world where you could love Mingi without the weight of expectation. But that world didn’t exist.

Not yet.

So you stepped back.

“I have to go.”

Mingi didn’t stop you.

Because even after everything, he was always gentle with you.

Years had passed since you left.

You spent them running—new cities, new names, new lives that never truly felt like yours. But no matter how far you went, the past followed. Shadows lingered in alleyways, whispers slipped through cracked doors, and faceless figures watched from the dark.

You had once been untouchable. Now, you were prey.

It was time to stop running.

So you came back.

⸻

The city was the same. Glass towers stretched into the sky, and the streets buzzed with people who never noticed you slipping back into their world. But there was one thing different.

Mingi.

He wasn’t yours anymore.

You found out from a passing conversation, the words hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“He’s engaged?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your informant, a former housekeeper who always had a soft spot for you nodded. “To Leeyeon. She’s from a good family, well-mannered, beautiful. He loves her.” A pause. “But not like he loved you.”

Your heart clenched. “Does he know I’m back?”

“I don’t think so.”

Good. You weren’t ready.

Not yet.

Mingi was at a gala when he saw you again.

A glimpse. That’s all it was at first.

A figure in the crowd, a face he used to know, a ghost from his past. His breath hitched, his body stiffening as he followed the familiar curve of your jaw, the way your eyes scanned the room like you weren’t sure if you belonged here anymore.

Then your eyes met.

And just like that, time unraveled.

“Y/n.”

The name left his lips before he could stop it, his voice drowning in the music and chatter. His fiancée, Leeyeon, stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm, but he barely noticed.

You took a step back.

Then another.

And then you were gone.

Days passed before he saw you again.

He found you where he always knew you’d be—standing on the balcony of your family’s old estate, staring at the city like it held the answers you’d spent years searching for.

“You came back.” His voice was rough, uneven.

You didn’t turn around. “I had to.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “Why now?”

You exhaled. “They were following me.”

Mingi stilled.

“They never forgot,” you continued. “The people my family ruined, the ones left in the dark while we lived in luxury. They waited. And when I ran, they chased.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You should’ve told me.”

Your hands curled into fists. And what would you have done, Mingi? Fixed it? You’re engaged. You have a life. You don’t owe me anything anymore.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

You finally turned, meeting his gaze. “It has to be.”

Leeyeon was pregnant.

Mingi found out weeks later, the news delivered over dinner.

“I’m pregnant,” she had whispered, her hand resting on her stomach.

He had frozen, the weight of the moment sinking into his bones.

This was good. This was supposed to be good.

But all he could think about was the way he still woke up calling your name.

You tried to stay away.

Mingi tried to move forward.

Neither of you succeeded.

Fate was cruel, throwing you together in fleeting moments—passing glances, lingering touches, unsaid words that screamed between you. Every time you got close, something pulled you apart.

Until the truth finally shattered.

Leeyeon had cheated on him.

And not just with anyone.

With San.

His best friend.

The betrayal burned deep, but nothing hurt more than the final blow—

The baby wasn’t his.

Mingi found you that night.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.

Because when he looked at you, his walls finally crumbled.

And when you looked at him, you saw home.

This time, when you stepped closer, nothing pulled you apart.

This time, when you reached for the lock—

It clicked into place.

Mingi still didn’t know.

He still didn’t know that the baby wasn’t his.

Leeyeon’s betrayal remained a secret, buried beneath soft kisses and whispered reassurances. She clung to him, played the part of the perfect fiancée, the devoted mother-to-be.

And Mingi?

He stayed.

For the baby.

That’s what he told himself.

That’s what he told everyone.

But at night, when the city was asleep—when the world was quiet and he was finally alone with his thoughts—he found himself somewhere else.

With you.

The first time it happened, you told yourself it was a mistake.

You weren’t sure how you ended up in his car that night, parked outside your apartment, the silence between you thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

“Mingi,” you had whispered, shaking your head. “This is wrong.”

But his lips found yours before you could stop him.

And just like that, you were his again.

It became a pattern.

Late nights. Stolen moments.

He’d come to you after Leeyeon fell asleep, slipping away with nothing but a quiet excuse and a guilty heart. And when he reached you, when his hands found your body and his lips traced the skin he used to know so well—he felt alive.

For the first time in years, he felt alive.

“You’re not staying,” you murmured one night, your fingers tracing the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

Mingi exhaled sharply, still catching his breath. “You know I can’t.”

You rolled onto your side, watching him. “Why?”

His jaw tightened. “You know why.”

“Because of the baby.”

Silence.

Then—

“You think I want this?” He turned to you, his voice lower now, rough. “You think I want to go back to her after this? After you?”

“Then don’t.”

His fingers curled into the sheets. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” You sat up, the sheets slipping from your body. “You don’t love her, Mingi. And I don’t know if you ever really did.”

Mingi didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Because deep down, he knew you were right.

Leeyeon noticed the shift.

The late nights. The distant stares. The way Mingi held her but never really touched her anymore.

She knew.

And yet, she didn’t say a word.

Because what would she even say?

She had her own secret, after all.

Mingi woke up in cold sweats sometimes, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

Leeyeon heard it every time.

And every time, she lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, hand resting over the baby growing in her stomach—

The baby that wasn’t his.

And she smiled.

For weeks, Mingi kept coming back to you.

It was never enough.

He’d leave Leeyeon’s bed, slip into yours, and swear to himself that it would be the last time. But then the next night came, and so did he knocking at your door, pressing you against the wall, whispering your name like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

And every time, you let him in.

Leeyeon never said a word.

She never questioned the late nights, the excuses, the way Mingi’s body was there but his mind was always somewhere else.

With you.

It should’ve made him uneasy. Should’ve made him suspicious.

But he was too caught up in you to notice.

Too caught up in the way you tasted, the way your body melted into his, the way he could lose himself in you and pretend, for just a little while—that he wasn’t living a lie.

Until the truth finally slapped him in the face.

He hadn’t meant to check her phone.

It was instinct, really—just a glance at the screen when it lit up beside her while she was in the shower.

And that’s when he saw it.

A text from San.

“Are you keeping the baby?”

Mingi froze.

The words blurred together, his brain struggling to piece them together in a way that made sense.

Are you keeping the baby?

His stomach twisted.

His mouth went dry.

And then—

It clicked.

The hesitation.

The secrecy.

The way she never let him go to her doctor’s appointments. The way she never mentioned Y/n, never confronted him about the late nights, never asked where he’d been.

Because she didn’t care.

Because she had her own guilt weighing her down.

Because the baby—

Wasn’t his.

The next time he saw you, he wasn’t gentle.

He didn’t knock. Didn’t ask.

He just showed up at your door, grabbed you, kissed you so hard you stumbled back.

“Mingi—” you tried, but he didn’t let you finish.

“You,” he rasped, hands gripping your waist like you might disappear again. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your breath hitched. “What happened?”

Mingi swallowed. “Leeyeon… she—” His voice broke. “The baby isn’t mine.”

Silence.

Then you exhaled. “You know.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” you admitted softly. “But it wasn’t my place.”

Mingi closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I was so fucking stupid.”

You reached for him, and this time, he let you.

“I stayed,” he whispered, voice thick with something raw. “I stayed for a baby that isn’t even mine.”

“You wanted to do the right thing.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “And what about now? What’s the right thing now?”

Your fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face toward yours.

“This,” you murmured. “This is the right thing.”

And this time, when he kissed you—

He didn’t feel guilty at all.

Mingi didn’t go back to Leeyeon that night.

For the first time since the engagement, he didn’t drag himself home before the sun rose, slipping into bed like nothing was wrong. This time, he stayed with you.

Held you.

Breathed you in.

And when morning came, he knew what he had to do.

Leeyeon was waiting for him when he walked through the door.

She was sitting on the couch, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes blank. The moment their gazes met, he saw it—the slight panic, the recognition. She knew.

“Who told you?” she asked quietly.

Mingi scoffed. “You just admitted it.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply but didn’t deny it. Instead, she straightened her spine, tilting her chin up. “How long have you known?”

“Since last night,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Saw a text from San on your phone.”

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “You checked my phone?”

“Don’t.” Mingi clenched his jaw. “Don’t act like I’m the problem here.”

Leeyeon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re no saint either, Mingi.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You cheated on me,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Plenty of times. With Y/n.”

Mingi stilled.

Leeyeon scoffed. “What? You thought I didn’t know? I may not have said anything, but I knew every time you disappeared in the middle of the night. Every time you came home smelling like her.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“At least I only did it once,” she continued, voice sharp now, slicing through the air like a blade. “And you want to talk about betrayal? You want to act like you’re the victim? Like what I did was so much worse than what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

Mingi took a step forward, fists clenched. “You lied about the baby.”

“You would’ve left if I told you the truth.”

“Of course, I would’ve left!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Because it’s not my fucking kid, Leeyeon! You were going to let me raise San’s child and never tell me.”

Leeyeon’s jaw tightened.

He laughed bitterly. “So don’t stand there and act like we’re the same. I may have cheated, but at least I wasn’t planning to build a whole damn life on a lie.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Leeyeon sighed, rubbing her temples. “So what now?”

Mingi stared at her, heart pounding.

“I’m done,” he said, voice steady. “We’re done.”

Leeyeon swallowed.

Mingi exhaled, stepping back. “And this time, I’m not coming back.”

He turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Straight to you.

Mingi didn’t look back.

Not at the life he was leaving behind. Not at the woman who had lied to him. Not at the baby that was never his.

His hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind a blur of anger, betrayal, and something else—something almost like relief.

Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t forcing himself to stay.

He was choosing to leave.

And he was choosing you.

You opened the door before he could even knock.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face in your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t say a word.

You just held him.

And that was all he needed.

For the first time in weeks, Mingi stayed the night without guilt clawing at his chest.

There was no sneaking out. No lying. No pretending.

Just you, tangled in the sheets with him, your fingers tracing lazy circles against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

“She admitted it,” he murmured.

You hummed softly. “She didn’t try to deny it?”

“No.” He sighed. “She threw it in my face. Said I had no right to be angry because I cheated on her too.”

Your fingers stilled.

Mingi turned his head, meeting your gaze. “She’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I did cheat. A lot. With you.”

You swallowed. “But it’s not the same.”

He nodded slowly. “No. It’s not.”

Because he never loved Leeyeon.

Not the way he loved you.

Not the way he always had.

And maybe that didn’t excuse what he did. Maybe it didn’t make him a better person.

But it was the truth.

And that was all he had now.

It should have been over.

Mingi had left her. He had chosen you.

But some things never ended cleanly.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t done yet.

Mingi should’ve known it wouldn’t end that easily.

He had walked away, slammed the door shut on the life he didn’t want. He had chosen you.

But some things don’t just stay buried.

Some things crawl back to the surface, uglier than before.

And Leeyeon wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

It started with the phone calls.

Mingi ignored them at first, let them go to voicemail.

Then came the texts.

Leeyeon: We need to talk.

Leeyeon: Mingi, answer me.

Leeyeon: You think you can just walk away from this?

Leeyeon: Fine. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s see if you ignore this.

The next message wasn’t from Leeyeon.

It was from San.

San: You and I need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, his blood turning ice cold.

San.

His best friend.

The man who had been sleeping with his fiancée behind his back.

And now, after weeks of silence, San was the one reaching out?

Mingi let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.

No.

If San wanted to talk, he could come find him himself.

But San wasn’t the one who showed up first.

It was Leeyeon.

She pounded on your apartment door, loud enough to make you jolt in surprise.

Mingi was already out of bed, throwing on a shirt when you grabbed his arm. “Mingi, don’t—”

“I have to,” he muttered, jaw clenched.

You swallowed hard but let him go.

The second he opened the door, Leeyeon shoved past him, her face twisted in fury.

“You really thought you could just walk away?” she snapped, spinning to face him.

Mingi crossed his arms. “I did.”

Leeyeon let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. No apology? No guilt? Just moving on with her?” She shot a glare in your direction.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You cheated first.”

Leeyeon’s eyes narrowed. “And you think that makes you innocent? You knew he was engaged, and you still spread your legs every time he came running.”

Mingi’s body went rigid. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Leeyeon scoffed. “Oh, please. I’m supposed to be the villain here, right? Because I cheated. Because I lied. But you—” she jabbed a finger at Mingi’s chest, her voice shaking now “—you were never mine to begin with, were you?”

Mingi exhaled sharply. “Leeyeon—”

“You think I didn’t notice?” she cut him off. “You were in love with her the whole time. You were sleeping next to me, but you were dreaming about her.”

He didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

Leeyeon shook her head, laughing bitterly. “So tell me, Mingi. Was I just a placeholder? A convenience?”

Mingi met her gaze, unflinching. “You were a mistake.”

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she looked like she might cry.

But then her face hardened.

And that’s when she dropped the bomb.

“You want to know who’s really the mistake?” she said quietly, tilting her head. “San.”

Mingi frowned. “What?”

Leeyeon smirked. “He was the mistake. Sleeping with him? Getting pregnant with his baby?” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oops.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew? You knew this whole time that the baby wasn’t his?”

Leeyeon’s lips curled. “Of course I knew.” She glanced at Mingi. “And yet, you stayed. Like a good little fool.”

Mingi felt something snap inside him.

His fists clenched. His breath came hard and fast.

And then, before he could stop himself, he laughed.

Laughed.

Leeyeon’s smirk faltered.

“You really think you win, don’t you?” Mingi stepped closer, his voice eerily calm. “You really think you have the upper hand here?”

Leeyeon blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Mingi shook his head, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips. “Let me tell you something, Leeyeon. You lost the second you thought you could play me.”

She scoffed. “And what? You’re gonna run off with her now?” She nodded toward you.

Mingi didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Leeyeon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

For the first time, she was speechless.

Mingi leaned in, lowering his voice. “Enjoy your life with San. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he finds out the baby is his.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I will.”

And with that, he grabbed your hand—

And slammed the door in her face.

But this wasn’t over.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t the only one with unfinished business.

San was still out there.

And he was coming.

Mingi barely had time to breathe before his phone vibrated again.

Another text.

San: I’m outside. We need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, jaw clenching.

Leeyeon hadn’t wasted any time. She’d probably run straight to him the second she left, spinning the story however she wanted.

He turned to you, still gripping your hand. “Stay inside.”

You frowned. “Mingi—”

“I mean it.” His voice was firm. “I’ll handle this.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes made you nod.

Mingi exhaled, then turned and stepped outside.

San was leaning against his car, arms crossed, eyes dark.

“So,” he started, voice eerily calm. “You finally know.”

Mingi scoffed. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

San smirked. “I knew it was only a matter of time. Leeyeon’s not as smart as she thinks.”

Mingi’s fists clenched. “How long?”

San raised a brow. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my fiancée?” Mingi’s voice rose, barely restrained.

San didn’t even flinch. “Does it matter?”

Mingi took a step forward, his entire body tensed like a predator ready to strike. “It matters to me.”

San tilted his head. “Then let’s say�� long enough.”

Mingi’s vision blurred with rage.

“You really thought you could get away with this?” he growled. “That I’d never find out?”

San sighed dramatically. “Mingi, come on. Don’t act like some heartbroken victim. We both know you were never really faithful.” He gestured vaguely. “You had her the whole time.”

Mingi’s chest tightened.

“That’s different,” he bit out.

San let out a low chuckle. “Is it?”

Mingi didn’t respond. He just took another step closer.

San’s smirk widened. “Are you gonna hit me, Mingi? Go ahead. Might make you feel better.”

Mingi was so close to snapping.

So close to breaking San’s stupid, smug face—

Then San leaned in and whispered, “What’s really funny is, I don’t even want her.”

Mingi stilled. “What?”

San sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Leeyeon. She was just convenient. But honestly?” He let out a short laugh. “I’m already over it.”

Mingi’s stomach twisted.

“You ruined my relationship,” he said slowly, voice low and dangerous.

San smirked. “Did I? Or did you do that all by yourself?”

That was it.

Mingi swung.

His fist connected with San’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

San recovered quickly, wiping his mouth, then laughed. “There it is.”

Mingi wasn’t done. He grabbed San by the collar, slamming him against his car.

San winced but didn’t resist. “Feel better?”

Mingi’s breathing was ragged. His pulse pounded in his ears.

But he didn’t hit him again.

Because San wasn’t worth it.

He let go, shoving him back.

San straightened, rolling his neck. “So what now?”

Mingi’s eyes darkened. “Now, you tell Leeyeon the truth.”

San raised a brow. “And if I don’t?”

Mingi smirked coldly. “Then I will.”

San studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

Mingi turned to leave.

But San’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Mingi.”

He paused.

San smirked. “Say hi to Y/n for me.”

Mingi didn’t look back.

But next time?

San wouldn’t be walking away so easily.

Mingi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a deep breath. His hands were still shaking, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

San was lucky. Lucky that Mingi had enough restraint to not break his face completely.

But this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

He turned, striding back toward the apartment, but the moment he stepped inside, he found you standing in the hallway, arms crossed, worry evident in your eyes.

“What happened?” you asked softly.

Mingi exhaled sharply. “San’s a dead man walkin.”

You swallowed, stepping closer. “Did he—?”

“He admitted everything,” Mingi cut in, voice laced with frustration. “Didn’t even try to deny it. And Leeyeon—” He let out a bitter laugh. “She’s still trying to act like she can fix this.”

You hesitated, searching his face. “And you? What are you going to do?”

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had spent weeks trying to figure out why Leeyeon had been acting so strangely, why she had barely let him be involved with the pregnancy. And now, it all made sense.

It wasn’t his child.

It never was.

“I’m done,” he finally said, his voice steadier than he expected. “With her. With this whole mess.”

You inhaled softly, as if bracing yourself for what was coming next. “So… what now?”

Mingi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for you, fingers gently trailing along your wrist before grasping your hand fully.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, squeezing lightly. “But the only thing I’m sure about is you.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, a small, genuine smile pulled at Mingi’s lips.

Mingi let out a small laugh. “At least now, we can finally move forward.”

You tilted your head. “Are you sure?”

Mingi smirked, stepping closer until your bodies were just inches apart.

“Positive.”

And this time, when he leaned in, nothing stopped him.

277 notes · View notes

onlyforyoukook · 4 months ago

Text

No self control

paring: jeongin x fem¡reader

synopsis: Jeongin becomes obsessed with y/n after she transfers to his school, secretly stalking her and learning everything about her from afar. y/n starts to sense someone watching her but can’t figure out who. One day, Jeongin befriends her, using their newfound friendship to gain even more access to her life. While y/n feels safer with him around, she has no idea her trusted friend is the very person she’s been afraid of all along.

wc: 9.4k

genre: one shot, angst, yandere.

You feel like the air is heavier here, as if it’s pressing down on you every time you walk into the school building. Being new isn’t easy, but something about this place feels different. It’s not just the unfamiliar faces or the unspoken rules of the social circles—no, it’s something else. Something you can’t quite explain.

You glance around as you walk to class, clutching your bag tighter to your chest. Everyone seems busy, caught up in their own little worlds. But every now and then, you feel it—a strange prickling at the back of your neck, like someone is watching you. You try to shake it off, telling yourself you’re imagining things. You’re just nervous. That’s all.

But Jeongin isn’t imagining anything. He is watching you.

It started on your first day. You were sitting in the second row, your shoulders hunched like you were trying to make yourself invisible. Jeongin sat in the back, as always, his seat tucked into the corner of the classroom. From there, he had the perfect view of everyone—especially you.

You didn’t notice him that day, or the next, but he noticed you. He noticed the way you always arrived a few minutes early, sitting down with your hands folded neatly on the desk. He noticed how your gaze darted around nervously, like you were afraid to make eye contact with anyone. And he noticed the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were thinking, your fingers brushing your cheek.

At first, Jeongin didn’t think much of it. You were just the new student, someone different in a school full of faces he already knew too well. But as the days went on, he found himself watching you more and more. He told himself it was harmless, just curiosity. But deep down, he knew it was something else.

He started memorizing little things about you. The way you always chose the same seat in the cafeteria, even though it was near the door where the cold draft blew in. The way you frowned when you were reading, like you were trying to solve a puzzle. The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking, soft and fleeting, like a secret.

Jeongin began timing his day around you. He’d leave his house earlier than usual, just so he could see you walking to school from the corner of the street. He’d linger in the hallways, pretending to check his phone, just to catch a glimpse of you heading to your next class.

And then there were the evenings. Jeongin told himself it wasn’t strange to follow you home—he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just wanted to make sure you were safe. That’s what he told himself every time he trailed behind you, keeping far enough away so you wouldn’t notice.

But you started to notice.

It was subtle at first—a feeling, nothing more. Walking home one day, you couldn’t shake the sense that someone was behind you. You turned around quickly, but the street was empty. Still, the feeling stayed with you, crawling under your skin.

By the second month, it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just on your way home anymore. You felt it in the hallways, in the library, even in the cafeteria. But every time you looked, there was nothing. No one.

Jeongin was careful. He stayed hidden, blending into the background, watching as you grew more and more paranoid. A part of him felt guilty, but he couldn’t stop. The more he watched, the more he felt like he knew you—better than anyone else ever could.

He started to wonder what it would be like to talk to you. To sit beside you in class, to hear your voice up close. The thought scared him. What if you didn’t like him? What if you found out what he’d been doing and pushed him away?

But then he saw you one day, sitting alone on the bleachers after school. You looked so small, so lost, staring out at the empty field. Something inside Jeongin twisted, a mix of longing and something darker. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to get closer.

That night, he made up his mind.

Tomorrow, he would talk to you. Tomorrow, he would become your friend.

And you wouldn’t even know you were letting the shadow into your life.

The next morning, Jeongin wakes up earlier than usual. He’s never cared much about how he looks—usually, it’s just a quick brush of his hair and throwing on whatever’s clean. But today, he takes extra time in front of the mirror, smoothing out his shirt and trying different smiles. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. He’s spent weeks watching you, learning every little detail about you. He knows exactly what to say, how to make you feel comfortable around him.

But as he walks to school, a strange sort of thrill courses through him. He’s never tried to get close to anyone like this before. He’s always been more of an observer, staying on the edges of things. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t just want to watch you anymore—he wants to be a part of your life.

When he sees you that morning, you’re sitting at your usual spot in the classroom, your hands folded neatly on the desk. You look a little tired, like you didn’t sleep well. Jeongin knows why—you’ve been feeling uneasy, haven’t you? Like someone’s been watching you. He feels a flicker of satisfaction at the thought, but he quickly pushes it down.

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat next to you.

You glance up, startled. For a moment, you just blink at him, like you’re trying to figure out why someone’s talking to you. “Hi,” you say softly, your voice uncertain.

“I’m Jeongin,” he says, flashing you a warm smile. “I don’t think we’ve talked before. You’re new here, right?”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing a little. “Yeah. I transferred a couple of months ago.”

“Must be tough,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s completely at ease. “New school, new people… It can’t be easy.”

“It’s… okay,” you say, though your voice doesn’t sound very convincing.

Jeongin smiles again, and this time, it’s softer. “Well, if you ever need someone to show you around or anything, let me know. I’ve been here forever. I know all the best spots.”

For the first time, you smile back. It’s small, barely there, but it’s enough to make Jeongin’s chest tighten. This is it, he thinks. The beginning.

As the days go on, Jeongin becomes a constant presence in your life. He’s always there—walking with you to class, sitting with you at lunch, even helping you with your assignments when you’re struggling. He’s so easy to talk to, so understanding, that you find yourself opening up to him in ways you haven’t with anyone else.

You don’t realize it, but he’s wormed his way into every corner of your life. And while you’re starting to feel safer with him around, he’s still watching you from the shadows.

He knows your schedule by heart now. He knows when you leave for school, when you get home, and how long you stay up at night scrolling through your phone. He knows which drawer you keep your favorite sweatshirt in, and how you always leave your window unlocked, even though you’ve started checking it before bed.

Jeongin starts coming to your house more often—not as a guest, but as a shadow. Late at night, when the neighborhood is quiet and the lights in your house have gone out, he slips into your backyard. At first, he just watches through the window, his breath fogging up the glass. But then he starts coming inside.

It’s easy, really. The first time he does it, his hands shake as he pushes your window open, but by the second and third time, it feels almost natural. He moves through your room like a ghost, careful not to disturb anything.

He starts small—taking things you wouldn’t notice are missing. A hair tie from your desk. A pen you left on your nightstand. He keeps them hidden in a box under his bed, each item carefully placed like a piece of a puzzle.

One night, he takes your necklace. You haven’t worn it in weeks, so he knows you won’t notice it’s gone. Still, his heart races as he slips it into his pocket, the cool metal pressing against his fingers.

You don’t notice. You don’t notice any of it.

But Jeongin does. He notices everything.

One evening, as you’re sitting in your room, scrolling through your phone, that familiar unease creeps over you again. You glance toward the window, your chest tightening. It’s locked. You made sure of it this time.

Still, the feeling doesn’t go away. It clings to you, heavy and suffocating. You shake your head, trying to push it aside. Jeongin said you were safe, didn’t he? And you believe him. Why wouldn’t you?

Meanwhile, Jeongin sits in his room, the necklace you wore in his hands. He rolls it between his fingers, his mind racing. You trust him now. You’ve let him in, just like he knew you would.

But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

And as he stares at the necklace, an idea begins to form in his mind—something bold, something risky. But if it works, it’ll bring him even closer to you.

Closer than ever before. For now, he waits. But not for long. It happens on a quiet afternoon, long after you’ve started calling Jeongin your friend. The two of you are sitting under a tree in the school courtyard, away from the noise of the other students. He’s leaning back against the trunk, legs stretched out, while you sit cross-legged beside him, fiddling with a blade of grass.

It’s been a rough day for you one of those days where the weight of everything feels just a little heavier. You’re quieter than usual, your eyes fixed on the ground, and Jeongin notices. He always notices.

“You’ve been kind of out of it today,” he says, his tone light but tinged with concern. “Everything okay?”

You hesitate. Jeongin has been nothing but kind to you, always there when you needed someone. You’ve told him little things about yourself—your favorite books, the music you like, how you hate math but love history. But you’ve never told him why you’re really here, why you transferred schools and left everything behind.

You glance at him, his warm brown eyes watching you patiently, and something in his gaze makes you feel safe. Like you can tell him anything.

“I don’t talk about it much,” you say softly, your fingers still tugging at the grass. “But… my parents fight a lot. Like, a lot.”

Jeongin tilts his head, encouraging you to go on. “That sounds hard,” he says gently.

“It is,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s like they can’t stand each other, but they won’t do anything about it, you know? They just… yell. All the time. At each other, at me. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You pause, your throat tightening, but Jeongin doesn’t rush you. He just sits there, quiet and steady, waiting.

“So, I left,” you continue. “I begged them to let me transfer schools, to let me start over somewhere else. I thought maybe… maybe if I got away from them, things would get better. Maybe I could finally breathe.”

Jeongin’s jaw tightens ever so slightly, but his voice remains calm. “Do you think it’s helped? Being here?”

You shrug, your shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. It’s not as loud, I guess. But sometimes I feel like… like I’m running away, you know? And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”

“You’re not running away,” Jeongin says firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re trying to find peace. That’s not the same thing.”

You look at him, startled by his sudden conviction. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he replies, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re stronger than you think. Most people would’ve stayed and let it crush them, but you didn’t. You left. That takes courage.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and for the first time in a long time, you feel understood. You give him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jeongin. I… I’ve never really talked to anyone about this before.”

“I’m glad you told me,” he says, his voice softening again. “I’m always here, you know? Whenever you need someone to talk to.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. For the first time since you transferred, the heavy weight you’ve been carrying feels a little lighter.

But what you don’t see is the flicker of satisfaction in Jeongin’s eyes. You trust him now. You’ve let him in, shared something no one else knows.

That night, Jeongin sneaks into your room again. He stands in the dim light, looking around at the space that feels more familiar to him than his own. His gaze lands on the small bracelet sitting on your desk—a simple piece of jewelry you’ve worn a few times but haven’t touched recently.

He picks it up, his fingers brushing over the beads, and slips it into his pocket.

As he turns to leave, his eyes fall on your bed. You’re fast asleep, your face peaceful, completely unaware of the shadow standing in your room.

Jeongin smiles to himself.

You told him you wanted to stop running, to find peace. And he’ll make sure you do. With him.

The next morning, you wake up feeling lighter, as though the weight of your confession had somehow melted away in the quiet of the night. Jeongin’s words stick with you, echoing in your mind as you get ready for the day. For the first time in months, it feels like someone understands.

At school, Jeongin is waiting for you by the front gate, his easy smile greeting you as you walk up the steps.

“Hey,” he says casually, falling into step beside you. “How’re you feeling?”

You hesitate, glancing at him. “Better, I think. Thanks again for yesterday.”

“Of course,” he replies, brushing it off like it’s nothing. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Friends. The word lingers in the air between you, and for a moment, you think about how quickly Jeongin has become a part of your life. It’s strange, but comforting.

The day that follow feel lighter with Jeongin around. He makes you laugh when you’re stressed, keeps you company when you feel lonely, and listens when you talk about your struggles. He feels like the anchor you didn’t know you needed. But what you don’t know is that Jeongin’s watching you even more closely now. Your confession has only deepened his obsession.

Jeongin’s Room

Late at night, Jeongin sits in his room, surrounded by the little pieces of you he’s taken. Your bracelet is on his desk, next to the necklace he stole weeks ago. A pen with your favorite brand’s logo. A scrap of paper you’d doodled on during class, the ink faint but still visible.

He picks up the bracelet, turning it over in his hands. He imagines you wearing it, the way it would rest lightly against your wrist. It feels like a piece of you that only he gets to have. But it’s not enough. He wants more. He wants all of you.

The next afternoon, the two of you are sitting in the library. You’re working on an assignment while Jeongin pretends to do the same, his notebook open but blank. He’s watching you again, though you don’t notice.

You let out a small sigh, your pencil pausing mid-sentence. “I’ve been thinking,” you say softly, not looking up from your paper.

“About what?” Jeongin asks, leaning slightly closer to you. “About going back home. Maybe just for a weekend,” you admit. “It’s been months, and… I don’t know. Maybe I should try to fix things with my parents.”

Jeongin’s smile falters for a fraction of a second, but he recovers quickly. “Do you think they’d listen?”

You shrug. “Probably not. But I can’t avoid them forever, right? It’s… exhausting.”

Jeongin’s jaw tightens, though his voice stays calm. “If you think it’s what you need, then you should do it. But just remember, you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here.”

You glance at him, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Thanks, Jeongin. That means a lot.”

But Jeongin’s mind is racing. The thought of you going back, even for a weekend, sets him on edge. He doesn’t want you to leave. Not now. Not when he’s finally gotten so close to you. As the night quickly approaches Jeongin is back at your house, slipping through your window with practiced ease. He moves silently, his eyes scanning the room until they land on your desk. Your journal is there, the edges worn from frequent use. He hesitates for only a moment before opening it, flipping through the pages until he finds something that catches his eye. Your handwriting is neat but hurried, your thoughts spilling out onto the paper.

“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, leaving them behind. But staying felt like suffocating. I wish someone would just tell me what to do.”

Jeongin’s fingers tighten on the page. He doesn’t need to read more; he already knows you better than anyone else ever could. And he knows what you need.

Him.

The next day at lunch, Jeongin casually brings up the idea of hanging out over the weekend. “You know, we’ve never really done anything outside of school. What do you think?”

You look at him, surprised. “Like… what?”

“I don’t know. A movie? Or we could just hang out at your place,” he suggests, his tone light.

You hesitate. “I mean, that sounds fun, but…”

“But?” he prompts, tilting his head.

“I was thinking about going home this weekend. I haven’t decided yet, though.”

Jeongin’s expression doesn’t change, but inside, he’s already coming up with a plan. “Well, if you end up staying, let me know. We could do something fun. Take your mind off things.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll let you know.”

That night, Jeongin goes back to your house. His movements deliberate and precise. He takes another item a keychain you keep on your bookshelf—and leaves everything else untouched. But this time, he does something different. He places the bracelet he took weeks ago on your desk, setting it down carefully where you’ll see it. When you wake up the next morning, you notice it immediately.

“That’s weird,” you mutter, picking it up. You’re sure you hadn’t seen it in weeks. Had you just overlooked it?

The thought nags at you as you get ready for school, but you push it aside. You have bigger things to worry about.

But Jeongin knows you’ll keep thinking about it. It’s a breadcrumb, a subtle reminder that he’s always been close.

The day before you’re going to go visit your parents, you and Jeongin meet under the same tree in the courtyard where you often sit together. The afternoon sun filters through the branches, casting soft light over the both of you.

“You’re really going through with it, huh?” Jeongin asks, leaning back against the trunk. His voice is calm, but there’s a faint edge to it, like he’s trying to keep something from spilling out. You nod, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Yeah. I figure it’s time to stop avoiding them. I don’t know if it’ll make anything better, but I feel like I owe it to myself to try.”

Jeongin studies you for a moment, his gaze soft. “That’s really brave of you, y/n I mean it.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Jeongin. I don’t know what I’d do without you lately. You’ve been… a really good friend.”

His heart skips a beat at your words, though his expression remains calm. “I’m just glad I can help,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile.

As the conversation drifts to other topics, Jeongin suddenly reaches into his bag and pulls out his jacket—a simple black one with a faint, comforting scent of cedarwood and something distinctly him.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you.

You blink at him, confused. “What’s this for?”

“For the trip,” he says casually, though his eyes are focused on you. “I thought you might want something… familiar. You know, in case things get overwhelming with your parents.”

You hesitate, touched by the gesture. “Jeongin, I can’t take your jacket—”

“Sure you can,” he interrupts, his voice firm but warm. “Just think of it as a reminder that you’re not alone. Even if things get rough, you’ll know someone’s rooting for you.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you reach out to take the jacket. “Thank you,” you say softly, pulling it into your lap. “That… means a lot.”

Jeongin just smiles, though inside, he’s practically buzzing. The thought of you wearing his jacket, carrying a piece of him with you, fills him with a strange sense of satisfaction. Later, when the house is quiet and you’re fast asleep, Jeongin slips through your window once again. This time, he doesn’t linger by your desk or admire the items he’s already taken. He heads straight for your closet, his eyes scanning the neatly hung clothes until he finds what he’s looking for.

Your sweater. The one you always wear on rainy days, the one that smells like you. He carefully pulls it from the hanger, folding it neatly before tucking it into his bag.

As he stands there, his eyes flick to your sleeping form. You’re curled up in bed, Jeongin’s jacket draped over the chair by your desk. A faint smile plays on his lips as he steps back into the shadows, his heart pounding with exhilaration.

The morning of your trip arrives, and you find yourself holding Jeongin’s jacket as you pack your bag. You almost leave it behind, but something stops you. The memory of his words how he said you weren’t alone lingers in your mind.

So, you slip it on. The fabric is warm, the faint scent of him wrapping around you like a hug. You glance at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the collar before grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

What you don’t know is that Jeongin is already watching.

From a distance, he follows you to the bus station, his hoodie pulled up to hide his face. He watches as you board, his eyes never leaving you. You’re wearing his jacket, and that alone makes his chest tighten with an odd mix of pride and possession.

He takes the next bus, keeping his distance as he follows you all the way to your parents’ house. When you arrive, he finds a spot across the street, hidden behind a tree, where he can watch without being seen.

You hesitate at the front door, your hand hovering over the handle. Even from where he stands, Jeongin can see the tension in your shoulders. You take a deep breath before finally stepping inside, the door closing behind you.

Jeongin stays where he is, his eyes fixed on the house. He imagines you inside, facing the people who’ve caused you so much pain. He doesn’t know what’s being said, but his mind races with possibilities.

Hours pass, but Jeongin doesn’t move. He waits, patient and silent, his gaze never straying from the front door.

When you finally step outside again, the sun is beginning to set. You look tired, your expression hard to read, but you’re still wearing his jacket.

Jeongin’s lips curl into a faint smile. You may have gone back to your family, but in the end, you’re still carrying a piece of him with you.

And as he watches you walk away, his mind is already working, already planning. You think you’re free, but you don’t realize that Jeongin is always there, just out of sight. Watching. Waiting. Because no matter where you go, you’ll always belong to him.

The walk back to your house feels heavier than usual. The sky is a murky gray, the sun buried behind thick clouds. You pull Jeongin’s jacket tighter around yourself, your eyes red and swollen from crying. Your chest feels raw, the words your parents had thrown at you still echoing in your head.

“Why did you even come back? You left us—don’t act like you care now.”

“You think running away makes you better than us?”

“We’re fine without you, so just go back to wherever you came from.”

Each word had cut deeper than the last, and now it feels like the world is caving in around you.

Jeongin follows at a distance, his hood pulled up, his steps silent on the pavement. He’d seen you leave the house hours ago, wiping your tears as you stormed out. Now, as he watches you walk, shoulders shaking and head bowed, something stirs inside him.

Anger. Not at you, but at the people who’d hurt you. The people who didn’t see how special you were.

He grips the strap of his bag tightly, his jaw clenched. They don’t deserve you.

When you finally reach your house, the sky has darkened, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. You fumble with your keys, your vision blurred by tears, and push the door open.

The house feels too quiet, too empty. You drop your bag by the door and sink onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as the sobs wrack your body.

Jeongin stands outside, the rain soaking through his hoodie as he stares at your window. He can see your silhouette through the thin curtains, the way your shoulders shake as you cry. It makes something twist in his chest—a strange mix of frustration and guilt.

He wants to go inside, to wrap his arms around you and tell you that it’s okay. That you don’t need anyone else, not your parents, not anyone. You have him.

But he knows he can’t. Not yet.

So he waits, standing in the rain, his hands clenched at his sides as he watches you fall apart.

You pull Jeongin’s jacket tighter around you, burying your face in the fabric. It smells like him—warm, comforting, safe. It makes you feel a little less alone, but it also makes you feel guilty.

You’d leaned on Jeongin so much lately, but you hadn’t really told him how much his friendship meant to you. He was always there, always understanding, and you weren’t sure what you’d done to deserve someone like him.

You wipe your eyes, your hands trembling. You make a mental note to thank him tomorrow.

The night feels endless as you cry yourself to sleep, Jeongin’s jacket still wrapped around you. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying every painful word from your parents. Exhaustion eventually takes over, and you drift into a restless sleep.

In the middle of the night, you stir, feeling the weight of something heavy in the room. Your eyes flutter open, blurry from sleep, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming.

The faint outline of a figure stands near your closet. Your heart lurches, a cold wave of fear washing over you. The figure is holding something—your sweater.

“Jeongin?” you croak, your voice trembling as you sit up in bed.

The figure turns toward you, and your breath catches in your throat. It is Jeongin. His expression is calm, almost too calm, as he steps closer, the sweater still in his hands.

“Why… Why are you here?” you stammer, your voice shaking.

He tilts his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “I couldn’t leave you alone, y/n. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

Your pulse races, panic bubbling in your chest. “You shouldn’t be here. This—this isn’t normal, Jeongin.”

He takes another step closer, his voice soft but eerily steady. “You don’t understand, y/n. I’m the only one who cares about you. They don’t—your parents, they don’t see you the way I do.”

“Jeongin, please,” you plead, tears streaming down your face. “You need to leave. This isn’t right.”

He kneels beside your bed, his expression unwavering. “I’ll leave when you realize you need me, y/n. I’ll leave when you stop pushing me away.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and just as you’re about to scream, the world around you blurs—and suddenly, you jolt awake, gasping for air.

Your room is quiet. Still. The faint sound of rain patters against the window. Your heart pounds as you glance around, your breath hitching when you see your closet. The door is shut, undisturbed.

It was a dream.

You clutch Jeongin’s jacket tighter around you, your hands trembling. The dream felt so real his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he seemed so sure of his words.

But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

You shake your head, trying to push the lingering fear away. “It was just a dream,” you whisper to yourself. “Just a dream.”

As you lie back down, willing yourself to calm down, you fail to notice the faint footprints on the carpet near your window, still damp from the rain outside.

The morning comes with pale light filtering through your curtains. Your eyes feel heavy, your body sluggish from the restless night. You sit up slowly, glancing around your room. Everything seems normal now, though the dream still lingers at the edges of your mind, vivid and unnerving. You shake your head, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling that creeps up your spine. It was just a dream, you remind yourself again, but something about it keeps bothering you.

After getting ready, you grab your bag and head out. The rain from last night left the streets damp, the air cool against your skin. You pull Jeongin’s jacket tighter around you, the faint scent of him oddly comforting despite the unease that lingers in your chest.

When you reach the courtyard, Jeongin is already waiting under the usual tree. He waves at you, his smile warm and inviting. Just seeing him there makes your tension ease a little.

“Morning,” he says as you approach, tilting his head to study you. “You look tired. Everything okay?”

You hesitate, clutching the straps of your bag. “I didn’t sleep well,” you admit, sitting down next to him. “I… had this weird dream.”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “A dream? What kind of dream?”

You glance at him, unsure if you should even bring it up. But he’s always been someone you could talk to, someone who listens without judgment. So you take a deep breath and begin.

“It was about you,” you say, watching his reaction carefully.

Jeongin’s eyes widen slightly, but his expression remains calm. “Me?” he echoes, leaning in slightly. “What happened?”

“It was so strange,” you continue, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “In the dream, I woke up in the middle of the night, and you were in my room. You were holding one of my sweaters, and when I asked you why you were there, you said you wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone.”

Jeongin doesn’t say anything right away. His expression is unreadable, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place.

“It felt so real,” you add, shivering at the memory. “I even thought I saw wet footprints on the floor this morning, but I guess I was just imagining things.” You let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort.

Jeongin tilts his head, his gaze fixed on you. “That’s… an interesting dream,” he says slowly, his voice steady but quieter than usual.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” you say quickly, trying to brush it off. “It’s just… I’ve been so stressed lately with everything that happened at my parents’ house. I think my brain’s just messing with me.”

Jeongin nods, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Dreams can be strange like that. But you know,” he adds, his tone softer, “if you ever feel unsafe or alone, you can always call me. I’d come over in a heartbeat.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “Thanks, Jeongin,” you finally say, offering him a small smile. “You’ve been such a good friend to me.”

He smiles back, though there’s something behind it—something you can’t quite put your finger on. “Of course,” he says. “That’s what friends are for.”

But as you look away, focusing on the students passing by, Jeongin’s gaze lingers on you. His mind replays your words, his heart racing as he realizes just how close you are to the truth. He wonders if you’ll ever figure it out. And what he’ll have to do if you do.

The days blur together, and soon, the dream you had about Jeongin fades to the back of your mind. You convince yourself it was nothing more than your subconscious playing tricks on you, a side effect of all the stress you’d been under. Jeongin remains as kind and attentive as ever, his presence becoming an anchor in your chaotic world.

He walks you to and from school, sits with you during lunch, and even texts you late into the night, ensuring you always feel like someone is there for you. You’re grateful, genuinely so. With him around, the loneliness that used to weigh you down feels lighter.

But unbeknownst to you, Jeongin hasn’t forgotten. Not about the dream, and certainly not about the things he’s been doing behind closed doors.

Jeongin has grown more careful now. He knows your schedule like the back of his hand—the exact time you fall asleep, the way you toss and turn before finally settling, and the little sighs you make as you drift off.

He waits until the house is silent, the lights off, and the streets empty. Climbing through your window has become second nature to him now, the creak of the frame barely audible as he slips inside.

This time, he doesn’t go to your closet. Instead, his eyes wander across your room, searching for something more personal, something that will bring him closer to understanding every piece of you.

His gaze falls on your desk, where your journal sits tucked beneath a stack of notebooks.

Jeongin’s heartbeat quickens as he carefully pulls the journal out, his fingers trembling slightly as he opens it. The pages are filled with your handwriting, messy but endearing, each word revealing a piece of your inner world.

He reads about your struggles, your fears, and even the little things that make you happy—like how much you love the smell of rain or the way certain songs make you feel understood.

As he turns the pages, he finds an entry about him.

“Jeongin’s been such a good friend lately. I don’t know how I got so lucky to meet someone like him. Sometimes I feel like he knows me better than I know myself. I wish I could be as strong as he is.”

A slow smile spreads across Jeongin’s face. You’re thinking about him, writing about him. It feels like a validation of everything he’s done, everything he’s sacrificed.

But then he sees another entry—a more recent one.

“I had this weird dream about Jeongin. It felt so real. I don’t know why, but it’s been bothering me. I keep telling myself it was just a dream, but there’s this nagging feeling I can’t shake.”

Jeongin’s smile falters for a moment, his grip on the journal tightening. He reminds himself it was just a dream—you couldn’t possibly know. Still, the fact that your subconscious even came close unsettles him.

He closes the journal and sets it back exactly where he found it, making sure nothing looks out of place. His eyes scan the room again, landing on a small trinket on your bedside table—a bracelet you’ve stopped wearing, one he’s never seen you use.

It’s perfect. Small enough that you wouldn’t notice it missing, yet personal enough that it feels like a part of you.

Jeongin slips the bracelet into his pocket before casting one last glance at your sleeping form. You look peaceful, your chest rising and falling steadily, completely unaware of the storm brewing just feet away.

You wake up feeling refreshed, the tension from the past week finally starting to fade. You stretch and glance at your desk, grabbing your journal to jot down a few thoughts before school. Everything looks just as you left it, and you don’t think twice about opening it to a fresh page.

As you write, Jeongin texts you.

Jeongin: Morning! Did you sleep well?

You: Yeah, surprisingly! I feel better today. Thanks for checking on me.

Jeongin: Of course. Can’t have my favorite person feeling down :)

You: Lol, favorite person? Aren’t I lucky.

Jeongin: You are.

You smile at your phone, completely unaware of the bracelet now missing from your nightstand or the journal entry that Jeongin had read the night before.

At school, Jeongin watches you from across the courtyard, his heart swelling as you laugh with some classmates. The bracelet he took from your room sits in his pocket, a constant reminder of how close he is to you—even closer than you realize.

To him, it’s not stealing. It’s preserving. Keeping pieces of you for himself, ensuring that no matter what happens, he’ll always have something of yours.

But even as he watches you, his mind is already turning, already planning.

Because as much as you think you’re starting to feel better, Jeongin knows there’s still a part of you that’s holding back—a part of you that hasn’t fully let him in.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to change that.

No matter what.

As the days pass, you find yourself spending more and more time with Jeongin. The unease you once felt around him has all but disappeared. Instead, there’s a warmth, an undeniable comfort whenever he’s near. He’s always there when you need him—whether it’s a text late at night when you can’t sleep or a small gesture like bringing you your favorite snack during lunch.

You begin to feel things for him that you hadn’t expected. His smile makes your heart skip a beat, and when he talks, you find yourself hanging on every word. There’s a gentleness to him that draws you in, an unspoken kindness that makes you feel like you matter.

But despite the growing closeness between you, there’s something in the back of your mind—a part of your past that you haven’t shared with him yet. You’ve told him bits and pieces of why you transferred, about the fights between your parents, but there’s a deeper reason, one you haven’t found the courage to tell anyone.

The nights are the hardest, lying awake in bed with thoughts that swirl around in your mind, making it impossible to sleep. You think about Jeongin, and how much he’s come to mean to you in such a short time. He’s been there for you in ways no one else has, and you don’t want to ruin it by revealing too much, by letting him see the darker parts of you.

But the guilt weighs heavily on your chest.

As the evening falls, you and Jeongin are sitting on the steps outside your school, watching as the sun sets, casting a warm orange glow over the horizon. The sky is quiet, almost serene, and for once, you feel like everything in your life is at peace.

“y/n,” Jeongin says softly, breaking the silence. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. “I want to ask you something.”

You turn to face him, your heart picking up its pace. “What is it?”

He looks down at his hands for a moment, as if unsure how to phrase what’s on his mind. Finally, he looks up, meeting your gaze with a soft intensity. “I know we’ve been talking a lot, and I really value our friendship. But…” He hesitates, searching your eyes for something. “Do you feel the same way about me? I mean, more than just friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a split second, the world feels like it’s paused around you. You blink, unsure of what to say. You hadn’t expected him to ask something like this—not now, not so soon.

“Jeongin, I…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he adds quickly, as if sensing your hesitation. “I just want to know if maybe I’m not the only one feeling like this.”

Your heart beats faster, and you feel the weight of his words sink in. You’ve thought about him more than you’d like to admit, and the truth is, you care about him in a way you hadn’t expected. But there’s that voice in your head, the one telling you that you shouldn’t open up, shouldn’t let yourself fall too far.

“I… I do like you, Jeongin,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But there’s something I haven’t told you. Something I haven’t told anyone.”

Jeongin’s eyes soften, and he moves closer, his hand gently resting on yours. “You can tell me anything, y/n. I’m not going anywhere.”

You look down at his hand on yours, your pulse racing. Part of you wants to tell him, wants to open up completely. But another part of you is scared—scared of what might happen if he knows the whole truth.

“Maybe someday,” you say quietly, pulling your hand away. “But not yet. I’m still not ready to talk about it.”

Jeongin doesn’t press you any further, though his gaze lingers on you with an understanding that almost feels too much to bear. “I get it,” he says softly. “You don’t have to tell me everything all at once. Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

You smile faintly, grateful for his patience, but inside, you feel a storm brewing. The truth is getting harder and harder to keep locked away, and as much as you want to be with Jeongin, you know that keeping this part of yourself hidden will only make things more complicated in the long run.

As you both stand up, the evening air growing cooler, Jeongin pulls you into a gentle hug. You let yourself lean into it, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time.

But as the hug lingers, a part of you can’t shake the feeling that things are about to change. Your secret, the one that’s been haunting you for so long, is about to catch up with you—and when it does, you’re not sure if Jeongin will still be there.

And that fear—that fear—it stays with you as you walk away from him that night.

Later that night, as you lie in bed, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it groggily, seeing that Jeongin’s text has just come through.

Jeongin: “Hey, I meant what I said earlier. If you ever want to talk… about anything, really… I’m always here. You’re not alone, y/n.”

You smile, feeling warmth spread through you despite the ache in your chest. You type back a quick response.

You: “Thanks, Jeongin. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you set your phone down, you notice something strange—a shadow flitting across your window. It’s brief, almost like a trick of the light, but it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You shake your head, dismissing it. Probably just the wind. But as you close your eyes to sleep, the feeling of being watched doesn’t go away.

And deep down, you wonder if it’s your past finally catching up with you—or something much darker that Jeongin might not even know about

The days after that text from Jeongin were both peaceful and haunting. You found yourself growing closer to him with each passing moment, the connection between you deepening in a way that felt both safe and terrifying. His kindness, his understanding, made you feel like you could finally breathe—like, for once, you weren’t alone. But still, your past lingered like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

No matter how much Jeongin showed he cared, a part of you remained distant, trapped by the weight of a truth you couldn’t share. And the more time passed, the harder it became to ignore the creeping fear that something—or someone—was about to unravel everything.

It started on a quiet afternoon, the kind where everything feels normal, and you wonder if it’s possible for life to ever truly be calm. You and Jeongin were walking together after school, a routine you’d grown used to. He had his arm slung casually around your shoulders, the weight of his touch making your heart flutter.

“Hey,” Jeongin said softly, looking down at you. “You’ve been a little distant lately. Everything okay?”

You stopped walking, your eyes scanning the ground as your stomach tightened. Everything wasn’t okay. You could feel it—the tension building inside of you, the knowledge that your secret was no longer something you could keep hidden.

“y/n?” Jeongin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his fingers gently brushing your arm to get your attention.

You looked up at him, and for the first time in a while, you felt exposed. Your breath caught in your throat. “There’s something I need to tell you,” you murmured, your voice unsteady.

Jeongin’s expression softened. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

You nodded, your heart hammering against your ribs. Can I really do this? You thought to yourself. But as his eyes searched yours with such genuine care, you felt the weight of your past threatening to crush you under its suffocating pressure. It was time to let it go.

“I didn’t move here because of my parents fighting,” you began, the words trembling from your lips. “That’s just part of it. But there’s more. There’s… someone from my past. Someone I was running from.”

Jeongin’s face shifted slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. “What do you mean? Who are you running from?”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to continue. “It’s not just my parents. It’s—” You paused, swallowing hard. “I had an abusive ex. Someone who wouldn’t let go. Someone who… hurt me. I left because I had to. I didn’t want him finding me.”

Jeongin’s grip tightened around your shoulders, his face hardening with anger. “He hurt you?” His voice was low, almost menacing.

You nodded, the fear rushing back to you like a flood. “He never let me go. No matter how many times I tried to break up with him, he would show up, and he would… hurt me, Jeongin. That’s why I left. I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought coming here would help me start over, but I… I don’t know if I’m safe anymore.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the flood of emotion threaten to overtake you, the walls you’d so carefully built beginning to crack.

Jeongin stepped forward, his arms pulling you into a tight hug. “y/n, you’re safe now. I swear to you, no one is going to hurt you. Not as long as I’m here.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a brief moment of peace before the unease started creeping back in. It’s not over, you thought. Not yet.

That night, after a quiet dinner with your family, you returned home, your mind still racing. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong—something had changed. The air felt heavier, the silence of your house more oppressive than usual. You found yourself standing in the middle of your room, feeling a chill creeping down your spine.

You shook your head, trying to brush off the paranoia, but something was off. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your heart began to race. You felt like you were being watched again.

And then you noticed it—the journal you had left on your desk. It was open. It had been closed when you left.

You approached cautiously, eyes scanning the pages. Nothing seemed out of place, yet there was this undeniable feeling of intrusion. Someone had been in your room. You knew it. But who?

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. It was a message from Jeongin.

Jeongin: “I was thinking about what you said earlier… about your ex. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I want to make sure you’re always safe, Y/N. No matter what.”

You smiled at his message, but the unease didn’t go away. You knew in your gut that whatever it was that had been watching you—it was still out there. You didn’t feel safe anymore.

You grabbed your phone, typing a quick response.

You: “I’m glad I have you, Jeongin. Thank you for being here.”

But just as you hit send, a sound—a faint tapping—came from your window.

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat. No, you thought. No, no, no.

You tried to shake it off, convinced it was just the wind, but your instincts screamed at you that it was something more.

The tapping came again, louder this time. You turned toward the window, your eyes wide with fear. You knew there was no one out there. But as you moved closer, your heart dropped into your stomach. There, pressed against the glass, was a face you never wanted to see again.

Your ex.

And as your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Jeongin, your hands shook violently. You couldn’t look away from the face outside your window—the same face you thought you had escaped.

Jeongin: “Don’t worry. I’m outside, right now. I’m here.”

But before you could react, the face outside your window suddenly disappeared, and the darkness felt even colder.

And then, your phone went dead.

Your heart stopped. You weren’t sure whether you were shaking from fear or something much darker that was just beginning to unfold.

The silence in your room feels suffocating as you stand frozen in place, staring out the window. The darkness outside seems to stretch on forever, and for a moment, you convince yourself it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. But then—there it is again.

A faint tapping against the glass, followed by the shadow of a figure.

You back away slowly, your breath shallow, heart racing as you try to gather the strength to move. It’s too real, too tangible. That face. That face you’ve been running from for so long. The one person who has haunted your every step, lurking in the shadows of your life.

No, not now. Not again.

Your mind screams for you to move, to get away, but your body won’t obey. You glance at your phone, the screen dim. It’s dead. You curse under your breath, wishing you could reach Jeongin, wishing he could be here right now. You had just typed the message to him—I’m glad I have you, Jeongin. Thank you for being here. If only you could tell him right now what’s happening. But the phone is useless.

You turn to the door, instinctively reaching for the handle to get out. Maybe I can make it outside. Maybe I can escape before he gets any closer.

Your hands are trembling as you unlock the door, pulling it open just slightly, the cold night air rushing in. But before you can step out, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of a window creaking open.

You whip around, eyes widening as you see a figure slipping inside, a dark silhouette against the dim light. And then you hear the voice.

“y/n…”

The cold dread that washes over you is instant. You recognize the voice. The sickening, familiar voice of the man who has made your life a living nightmare. Your ex. The one you thought you had escaped.

A scream bubbles up in your throat as you stumble back, your heart slamming against your chest in terror. The man steps into the room, his eyes wild and gleaming with anger. In his hand, he’s holding a knife—shiny, gleaming under the weak light from your desk lamp.

“Did you really think you could get away from me, y/n?” he sneers, advancing toward you.

You back away, your mind racing, but your feet feel like they’re glued to the floor. Your body betrays you, paralyzed by fear as he inches closer.

“Stay away from me!” you scream, but it’s barely a whisper, choked by your panic.

He laughs, a low, menacing chuckle, and your heart skips a beat.

“You should have stayed with me, y/n. You should have never left. But I’ll make sure you never forget me.” His grip tightens on the knife, and he lunges toward you.

But just as his hand reaches out to grab you, the front door slams open, and you hear the rush of footsteps pounding toward you.

Jeongin.

You want to call out to him, to scream his name, but your voice catches in your throat. You can barely breathe as the man with the knife is upon you, his eyes wild with madness. You close your eyes, bracing for impact.

Suddenly, there’s a crash. A loud thud. A body slamming into the man.

You open your eyes just in time to see Jeongin wrestling with your ex, a surge of adrenaline coursing through you as you watch the struggle unfold before your eyes. You want to run, to get away, but you can’t move.

You see Jeongin’s hands clasp around the knife wielding arm, his face contorted in sheer desperation. “Get off her!” he shouts, his voice raw with anger.

But just as you think Jeongin has the upper hand, something happens—someone gets stabbed..but who?

“No!” you scream, but it’s too late.

MASTERLIST

pt2..??

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