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softlysoul · 1 day ago

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˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧!

➜ summary: you just moved into a new building, right across from three loud guys. two said sorry and the third couldn’t care less.

pairing: pshx f!reader,wc: 14k words , genre: enemies to lovers ish, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

The elevator doors swung open, and soon you stepped out into the third floor hallway. You looked like you were moving in, which in your defense…you were. The oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, arms hugging a stack of takeout containers and a cactus you had that had pricked you far too many times, but that didn’t matter. You were finally on your own.

Unit 3B. That was you now.

Your keys jingled in your palm as you found the door, nudged it open with one knee, and stepped into the apartment you’d stared at for months on rental listings. It wasn’t huge, but it had a little kitchen with enough space for your mum’s rice cooker, and a balcony that caught the sun in the morning. You spun around in the centre of the room, grinning, almost knocking the cactus you had just placed on the counter in the process.

And by nightfall, the place felt like yours. Your fairy lights were strung up across your living room. Your fridge held exactly a bottle of soda, some tuna you had eaten an hour ago and a bag of unwashed grapes. You lit a vanilla candle, the one your best friend, Jungwon, made you promise to use so you'd remember him… even while being so far apart. But Jungwon hated travelling, so in his mind, you'd basically moved to another continent.

Jungwon dramatically declared, “You’re practically moving to another country.”

“Jungwon, I’m literally a two-hour train ride away.”

“That’s basically Europe.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory, smiling to yourself.

Still, you were glad you’d made the decision to move. Three years ahead of you… of being on your own, of learning to be independent, part-time jobs, and what you hoped…a future incoming relationship. It should be easy. It should be peaceful. It should be—

“DUDE!!!”

A scream ripped through your wall.

It came from the wall to your right, a thin wall nudged between you and your neighbours. You could hear celebrations. A voice shouted, “THAT WAS INSANE!” followed by a loud thump like someone had jumped off the sofa.

You tried ignoring it at first, burying yourself under the blanket like it could block out noise. But 20 minutes in, another screamed “HE’S OFFSIDE, YOU DUMB—” loud enough to rattle the walls, you snapped.

You threw on your hoodie, jammed your feet into slippers, and marched out the front door like you were storming a battlefield. The hallway was dim and quiet, except for the muffled party behind door 3C. You knocked, hard, but polite.

The door creaked open mid-laughter, revealing three guys mid-snack, mid-game.

“Hi,” you said, tight smile. “Sorry to bother you, but… would you mind keeping it down a little? I’ve got a test tomorrow and it’s kinda hard to focus with all the screaming.”

The one with fluffy hair, cute little eyes, nodded immediately. “Shit. Sorry, sorry. Totally our bad.”

Another one, long lashes and a goofy smile, actually winced. “Didn’t realise it was that loud. We’ll keep it down, promise.”

“Are you new here?” the first one asked.

You nodded. “I just moved in today, actually.”

“Oh shit. Mrs Kim moved out?”

“Damn, we’re not getting her kimchi anymore, that’s for sure.”

“We gotta eat those store-bought ones that taste like ass.”

The second boy looked at you again, more focused this time. “Oh right! I’m Jake! It’s great to meet you! I’m sorry it happened under… unfortunate circumstances. But we’ll be quieter!”

“I’m Jay, by the way,” the first one added with a small grin, pushing his hair back.

You nodded, smiling slightly. At least they were nice about it. Well, two out of three, anyway.

You glanced past both of them, eyes landing on the third boy slouched on the couch, still holding the controller, gaze fixed on the paused screen like you weren’t even there. His jaw clenched once. No name. No hello. Just a subtle, annoyed glance in your direction before he looked away again.

Cool. So he hates you. That’s cool with you.

The third guy didn’t say anything. Just glanced at you once, then turned back toward the TV.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, lips tight, already backing away.

You returned to your apartment and for a blessed thirty minutes, it was quiet.

Then someone scored a goal and the wall shook again.

You blinked slowly at your ceiling, arms folded under your head like the weight of your patience was finally starting to crush your ribs. Okay. So that’s how it was going to be. You frowned.

And that was literally… how war started.

The next morning, fuelled by petty vengeance and two hours of sleep, you grabbed your pastel pink sticky notes and wrote:

“Dear 3C, I’ve played FIFA before. It is not that damn fun for you to be out here screaming. Please tone it down. Regards, the zombie in 3B.”

You slapped it on their door. Nothing changed.

And the next day:

“Dear 3C, I can’t sleep. Kindly shut up <3 With love, the girl one more sleepless night away from writing to the landlord. 3B.”

You half expected them to ignore it. Instead, you found your note missing by mid-afternoon. Gone.

For a moment, you felt powerful. Maybe they’d actually listened.

Then 8:43 p.m. hit and someone in 3C scored a goal so loud you swore the bass from their TV made your candle flicker.

Alright. So it was personal now.

You stormed over to their door again, hands on your hips.. It wasn’t that late. You weren’t unreasonable. You believed in joy. In freedom. But right now? Rage was the only thing pumping through your system.

You shuffled down the hall with your bunny slippers slapping against the floor, hair in a claw clip that was giving up. You looked deranged. And for the first time, you were fine with that. You banged on their door.

The door cracked open a second later, revealing Jake blinking like a deer in headlights. His hair was messy. He looked mildly afraid.

“Were… we being loud again?”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Ya think?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. I’m so sorry. It’s Sunghoon. He keeps saying it’s not that loud and we were mid-tournament and—”

“Tell Sunghoon that his ego’s not the only thing echoing through these walls,” you snapped, arms crossed. “Some of us are trying to study.”

Behind Jake, you heard a familiar scoff followed by a smug voice yelling, “God, she’s so annoying. We were literally whispering.”

You leaned to the side, locking eyes with the third boy slouched on the couch, controller in hand, feet on the coffee table like the world owed him something. He didn’t even pause the game this time.

You didn’t know what it was about his stupidly symmetrical face but your blood boiled.

“Tell this Sunghoon guy…his whispering sounds like a screeching cat,” you said flatly, before spinning on your heel and marching back toward your door when you heard his aggravating voice.

“Tell her she’s overreacting over a couple of friends simply trying to have fun,” Sunghoon fired back from the couch, not even raising his voice.

You turned your head just enough to glare over your shoulder. “Well, tell him, his shirt doesn’t match his fucking pants.”

Jake looked helpless, standing between you both like a middle child caught in a divorce.

And then, with that same bored tone, Sunghoon called out again, “Well, tell her… those slippers are the best thing she’s worn all week.”

You stopped.

Jake sucked in a breath.

You slowly turned, eyes narrowing. “Tell him he wouldn’t know good fashion if it came with a user manual and punched him in his freaking face.”

Sunghoon finally glanced away from the TV, meeting your eyes for the first time that night. His lips curved into the most irritating half-smile you’d ever seen.

“Tell her–”

Jake stepped in between again, hands raised. “Okay! Okay. We’re gonna turn the volume down. Like, way down. Like you can’t even hear us tiptoe. Right, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the couch and shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not the one annoying my neighbors at 9pm on a Friday night. Get some friends.”

You slammed your door shut.

War was back on.

The next morning, your plan was simple. A little petty, sure, but necessary.

You stood outside their door in your pyjamas, holding a fresh pack of neon yellow Post-its since your previous ones were used up by the ongoing Post-It war.The hallway was empty. Your bunny slippers made no sound as you padded up to 3C and stuck the first one of the week dead-centre on the door.

“Dear 3C, just a gentle reminder that FIFA will not feed you, clothe you, or give you money. Kindly shut up. PLEASE. Warmest regards, 3B.”

You smiled to yourself and floated back to your apartment.

That night? For the first time…? Silence. Beautiful, blissful silence. You actually managed to revise two chapters and fall asleep before midnight. You woke up in the morning feeling like a changed woman.

But then you opened your front door.

There, taped neatly to your door, was a blue sticky note with surprisingly neat handwriting.

“Dear 3B, you sound like you narrate your life out loud. – 3C.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Narrate your life out loud?” you muttered. “That’s literally called thinking.”

You marched back into your apartment, flung open your stationery drawer.

“Dear 3C, apologies if my internal monologue disrupted your daily FIFA championship. I only talk to myself because your volume settings make it impossible to hear my own thoughts. With all due respect (and ear damage), 3B."

That afternoon, Jay knocked on your door. You hesitated, then opened it a crack. He was holding a bag of convenience store pancakes in one hand.

“Peace offering,” he said. “Also, I think your notes are hilarious. Jake’s been collecting them. I think he’s making a scrapbook.”

You blinked. “Is this a joke or something?”

Jay shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No! Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing.”

Jake popped his head in from behind, grinning. “Also, your handwriting’s really neat.”

You opened the door a little wider, cautious then shrugged. “You want some… uh… spaghetti? I made it this morning.”

“Spaghetti?” Jay tilted his head.

You nodded. “Yeah. I usually experiment with food. I’m…uh…in culinary school.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you’re like… a chef?”

“Trying to be.,” you said with a shrug, suddenly a little self-conscious.

They exchanged a quick look before barging in like you'd personally handed them invites at the door.

“That’s so cool,” Jake said, practically bouncing as he flopped onto your beanbag. “I burnt instant noodles last week. Twice.”

Jay wandered deeper into your living room, his gaze landing on the dusty old guitar leaning against your bookshelf. “Dude, check it out! She plays the guitar.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, awkward. “It’s just for fun. I’m not that good.”

“I’m sure you’re great,” Jake said, already chewing through a mouthful of spaghetti he’d somehow found, and served himself in a bowl you didn’t remember offering.

You blinked at him. “Did you just—?”

“Plate was right there,” he said through a mouthful. “I took it as a sign.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “She feeds us and plays guitar. She’s better than Mrs. Kim already.”

You sighed and closed the door behind them. “I’m starting to think Mrs. Kim left because of the three of you.”

In between bites, Jake nodded without hesitation. “I think so too.”

“We can be loud,” Jay added, helping himself to another serving.

“Have you thought of… not being loud?”

“We do,” Jay said. “But then we get loud again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Guys, some of us have school and—”

“We have school too,” Jake chimed in, mouth full.

“Okay… some of us care about sleep.”

Jay perked up. “That’s why we got you this.”

He dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny box, dropping it into your hands.

You squinted at it. “What’s this?”

“They’re sleep buds,” he said proudly. “They go in your ears and play white noise and, like… ocean sounds or something. Blocks everything out. Even us.”

You stared at the box, then at them.

“Instead of compromising, you got me gear?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. We like you. We want you to be able to sleep… through us.”

Jay gave you a thumbs-up. “It’s called adaptation.”

You looked down at the sleep buds in your hands and then back up at the two of them absolutely inhaling your spaghetti like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You didn’t know whether to kick them out or thank them.

So you just sighed, defeated. “You guys are the weirdest neighbours I’ve ever had.”

Jake beamed. “Aww. You’re the weirdest too.”

And somehow… the next day… they were back.

You opened the door mid-knock, confused, only to find Jay grinning at you.

“What’s for lunch today, boss?” he asked, already halfway through the doorway.

You blinked. “How’d you know I made something?”

“We could smell it,” Jake said, stepping in right behind him, holding up a comically large spoon. “Smells so good. Brought my big spoon today. Came prepared.”

“Uh… I made chowder?”

Jake’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love chowder.”

Jay had already plopped onto the floor cushion, flipping through your Spotify like he owned your iPad. “What kind? Clam? Corn? Pumpkin? Wait… do people put pumpkin in chowder?”

You stared at them, ladle in hand.

“Corn,” you muttered, shuffling back into the kitchen.

Then the day after that… they came again. At this point, it felt less like a surprise and more like a recurring appointment.

“No fucking way. Kimchi stew? This shit is so good!. Jay, you need to try the beef. It’s so soft. How— how’d you get it so soft? Is this like one of those expensive beef? Wakoo?”

“It’s Wagyu, Jake.” You corrected.

“Wagyu~” He sang.

Jay, already mid-bite, nodded with a full mouth. “Can I havefth thefth reshepee?”

You wiped your hands on a dish towel, leaning against the counter with one brow raised. “Do you guys ever eat in your own apartment?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Not when you cook like this.”

Jay pointed his chopsticks at you like he was making a closing argument in court. “This is technically your fault. You fed us once. That’s basically a binding contract. We’re best friends now. Aren’t we, Jake?”

Jake nodded, mouth full. “Mhmff. Whatever he said.”

You sighed, setting your elbow on the table and dropping your chin into your hand. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least wash the dishes after.”

Jake saluted you with his spoon like you were the captain of a very tiny, soup-based army. “Yes, chef.”

You looked at the two of them, one already on his third helping, the other stealing more beef straight from the pot, and shook your head.

This wasn’t how your independent, put-together, college life was supposed to go. You were meant to be focused. The mysterious girl on the third floor who only ever came out for groceries and exams.

But maybe… with the two of them barging in uninvited, eating like they hadn’t seen food in years, and treating your living room like it was theirs…

Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.

It was 9 p.m. Strangely quiet.

Usually, by now, there’d be at least one goal celebration shaking the walls or someone shouting about a missed penalty. But tonight? Nothing. You didn’t let it bother you. You took it as a win.

The balcony door slid open with a soft scrape. You stepped out into the cool night, cradling your little scissors and spray bottle like sacred tools. Your succulents were arranged in a neat line. A few leaves had started to curl. You knelt down, snipping the dead ends carefully.

You should’ve felt peaceful.

But tonight, something tugged at your chest.

You missed Jungwon. You missed your mom’s mismatched cutlery and the way your dad always forgot he’d already asked about your grades. Maybe even your pet fish, the one that never did much except float around looking confused.

Jay and Jake were friendly, sure. But they weren’t yours. They weren’t part of your before. They didn’t know the town you came from or the versions of you that existed before now.

And even though you thought you’d settled in... even though you were coping...you were lonely.

Without meaning to, you started speaking out loud — just like you always did.

“It’s fine. You’ll do better tomorrow. Tomorrow you won’t feel as lonely,” you said softly as you misted the leaves. “You’ll be stronger. You’re gonna get used to this. You can do it.”

But the lie caught in your throat.

Because you were crying already.

You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, frustrated, betrayed by your own body. You reached for your phone without thinking and hit the contact you swore you wouldn’t keep calling every time you got overwhelmed.

Jungwon answered on the first ring.

“What’s up?” he asked, casual as ever.

“Won…” you breathed out.

There was a pause. Then: “Are you crying?”

“No?”

“I can hear you sniffling, you shit.”

“It’s just—” your voice cracked. “It’s hard. I’m alone all the time. I’ve got no friends. I’ve got no one to talk to. I’m alone, Won.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I know…”

There was a pause. You could hear him shifting in bed, his voice soft and serious now. “But think about it this way, okay? You’re barely in your first month. You’re gonna get used to it. You’re gonna find people. You’re gonna build something here. It just takes time.”

You bit your lip. “You’ll visit if you can, right?”

“I’ll visit,” he promised. “Even if it takes two bloody hours.”

“But you hate traveling.”

“For you, I’d suffer.”

You sniffled. “You’re just saying that so I’ll hang up.”

“You’re right because I’m exhausted from basketball. But also… I love you.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “I love you too.”

“Chin up. You’re talented and you deserve to be there. You can do this. We’re all counting on you.”

“I know.” You exhaled slowly. “Goodnight, Wonnie.”

“Night.”

You ended the call and sat in silence for a moment, letting the cool night air settle on your skin. The tears had stopped. Your hands still smelled like mint and basil and the faint sweetness of the spray bottle. You stared at your succulents, wondering if they ever got lonely too.

Unbeknownst to you, just a few feet away, out on the connected balcony, hidden by the divider, someone had heard everything.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d stepped out earlier, just needing air, needing quiet, needing to be somewhere still for once. And then he’d heard your voice. The words that were not meant for anyone else.

And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment.

He just stood there in the dark, one hand gripping the railing, heart a little heavier than before.

He understood more than you thought.

And somewhere between your tears and Jungwon’s voice, he changed his mind about you.

The next few days, there was absolute silence. Maybe the food had finally worked some psychological warfare on Jay and Jake. Maybe it was their way of returning the favour. Either way, you weren’t about to question it.

You were grateful, to say the least.

Because for the past week, you’d been moping around your apartment. Living alone and striking out as an “independent bachelorette” sounded empowering in theory, but in practice? Maybe you weren’t one of those girlies after all…y’know the ones on Instagram who made solitude look like a season of self-discovery instead of a series of breakdowns.

It was Saturday. You’d spent the entire morning in bed watching a Netflix documentary about some guy swindling people on Tinder, surrounded by crumpled tissue and scented candle smoke that had long turned suffocating. You were still in yesterday’s hoodie, blanket tangled around your legs.

Three knocks echoed at the door.

You lifted your head from the pillow with a groan, barely alive. The sound came again.

Dragging yourself across the living room, you cracked the door open just a sliver, just wide enough to peek through but not enough to reveal the disaster that was your face, your hair, or your pride.

“Uh.” The voice was hesitant. Familiar.

You squinted.

Sunghoon.

You blinked. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying and a full night of narrating your own spiral.

“There was a mix-up with the mail,” he said, holding up a small stack of envelopes.

“Oh.” You extended your arm awkwardly through the tiny gap in the door and grabbed the letters. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, “I can see your puffy eyes through the gap.”

You scoffed, immediately pulling the door closer. “You just have to be a smartass about everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Still standing there.

“…Are Jake and Jay home?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

His expression twitched, almost amused. “Why? Trying to steal my best friends again or—”

“No,” you deadpanned. “I was just wondering. It’s been… quiet this whole week.”

“They went home to visit their families.”

Oh. Right. Come to think of it, maybe that explained why everything felt extra heavy lately. It was the time of year people usually went home. People surrounded themselves with comfort and familiarity. And here you were, stuck in the city because the train ticket home was just slightly out of budget.

“You didn’t go?” you asked softly.

“Can’t,” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he tilted his head.

“Well,” Sunghoon said slowly, “if you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

The words came with the usual venom but the message behind them landed differently.

You stared at him through the gap in the door. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny, or… sincere, in his own weird, backhanded way. It was strange. You’d only had three full conversations with the guy. And every single one ended in a WWE tournament.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Are you… being nice to me?”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t ruin it.”

And with that, he turned and walked back.

You finally got up.

There was no movie-worthy breakthrough moment. Just the dull ache in your head from crying too much and the feeling that if you shed one more tear, your eyeballs might actually eject themselves from their sockets. So you moved. You stripped your bed, tossed the mountain of tissues into a trash bag, sprayed half a bottle of disinfectant in the air, and opened every window.

Your apartment looked like it had survived an apocalypse, which, to be fair, was accurate. But you scrubbed it back to life.

By the time you were in the kitchen, your eyes were still a little swollen, but you’d pressed them with cool spoons and a sad little compress until you could see straight again. Kind of.

You pulled out ingredients from your fridge one by one, lining them up like you were preparing for war. Slicing, boiling, julienning, stir-frying. The sound of the pan crackling beneath the glass noodles filled the silence of your apartment. It smelled exactly like it did when your mom used to make it.

You plated it in a wide, shallow bowl. It was delicious. Of course it was. You took pride in it. You always had. Jungwon used to tease you, calling your hands “blessed by Gordon Ramsay” like everything you touched turned into comfort food. You’d swat his arm, trying not to smile as he reached for second helpings before you’d even sat down.

You missed him. You missed your family. You missed not having to eat alone on a day like this.

Your eyes drifted to the door.

Would it be stupid? To bring food to Sunghoon? You’d never really done anything kind for him. Most of your interactions were lined with sarcasm and insults. And yet… that one line of his kept replaying in your head, “If you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

So maybe…maybe he meant it. Or maybe you were just desperate for company and your noodles were starting to get cold.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you packed the noodles into a clean container, wrapped a rubber band around it, and found yourself standing in front of 3C. Your feet had walked you here without permission. Your hand hovered in the air, ready to knock, but now… you hesitated. You weren’t here to complain. You weren’t here to yell. And that made it harder.

And just before your knuckles could land on the door, it swung open.

Sunghoon stood in front of you, coat already on, scarf looped lazily around his neck. There was a little shine to his hair like he’d styled it, and he looked surprised, mildly confused to find you on his doorstep without any anger evident in your eyes.

“What?” he said, voice dry.

You blinked, staring at him. You’d never really looked at him properly before. Not when he was this put-together. The gel in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his scarf sat slightly off-center like he’d thrown it on in a rush. You knew he was attractive. You weren’t blind. But seeing him now?

Sunghoon was actually… pretty handsome.

“I—uh—” you stammered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Spit it out.”

“I—uh—I made some… stir-fried glass noodles,” you said, stumbling over every syllable. “And I know how much it sucks being alone on a day like this, so I thought… maybe it’d bring you some kind of familiarity. From home, or something.”

You didn’t let yourself overthink it. You shoved the container into his hands, heart pounding.

“Bye,” you mumbled, before immediately turning around and marching back to your apartment like you’d just robbed a bank. The door clicked shut behind you.

You pressed your back to it, eyes wide.

Shit.

Was Sunghoon actually hot?

Sunghoon stood in the hallway, unmoving. The container in his hands was warm and he stared down at it for a couple of seconds longer than he probably should’ve.

Jake and Jay had been raving about your cooking for weeks. At first, he thought they were exaggerating. How good could someone’s food be that it made two of the loudest people he knew voluntarily whisper through a FIFA match?

But he’d seen it with his own eyes, Jake silently fist-pumping the air, mouthing “LET’S FUCKING GO” after a goal, and Jay barely reacting as he scored. They even created a rule: first one to speak puts a dollar in the Silence Jar. A literal jar. With money.

Sunghoon didn’t get it.

And he didn’t particularly care to. Not then.

But now, standing in the hallway in his coat and scarf, staring at the gift you shoved into his hands with flushed cheeks, something felt different.

He had been on his way out, actually. There was a bar nearby, nothing special, just a dim-lit spot with quiet music and decent food where no one bothered him. He usually went there whenever Jay and Jake went back home, like they did this time every year. It wasn’t that he didn’t have family—he did. It just wasn’t… warm. They were always busy. Always somewhere else, even when they were in the same room.

He peeled off his scarf, feet dragging a little as he headed back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. He set the container on the kitchen counter, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, and opened the lid.

Steam wafted up instantly, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, something subtly sweet he couldn’t name. The noodles glistened. They looked homemade. No, they felt homemade.

He picked up a strand and gave it a tentative taste.

His eyes widened before he could even help it.

It was good. Like stupid good. Like how the hell is this girl not running her own restaurant kind of good. Better than anything he would’ve paid for at that bar tonight.

He stood there in silence, chopsticks hovering mid-air, thinking back.

He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated you. Three encounters, three arguments. He remembered each one too clearly. The snark in his voice. The way your expression hardened. The notes on the door.

But it wasn’t really about you.

He hated being called out. Hated being the problem. Maybe it was ego, or maybe it was the way he’d always felt like he had to be put-together or to say the least…controlled. Your presence threw him off. You were loud in a way that was sincere. You didn’t filter your emotions. You wore your annoyance on your sleeve and your feelings on your face.

It irritated him. It also… made him feel something.

And then there was that night on the balcony.

He hadn’t meant to listen. But when he heard your voice cracking through the divider, talking to someone…maybe it was your boyfriend? Your best friend? Whoever it was about how lonely you were, it hit him harder than it should’ve.

Because he got it.

He felt it too.

Being alone in a crowd. Having people around but never really with you. That weight in your chest that didn’t come from sadness exactly…just the absence of warmth.

Sunghoon felt it more often than he cared to admit. He loved Jake and Jay, loved them to pieces. They were the kind of people who filled a room with noise and an energy he couldn’t really place and who made him laugh even when he didn’t want to.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Someone who just… saw him.

He sat at his kitchen counter, staring at the container of glass noodles still warm with steam curling from the lid. He wasn’t usually impulsive. He didn’t do gestures. But maybe tonight called for something a little uncharacteristic.

He stood and reached up, opening the top cupboard where Jake and Jay kept what they called their “emergency date plates.”. The kind of plates you used to impress someone. They only ever brought them out when trying to convince girls they were not, in fact, living in a borderline condemned apartment flat.

He grabbed two.

And then, before he could second guess it, he walked out into the hallway and knocked.

Your door creaked open a few seconds later.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

It almost felt like deja vu. Except now, he was you…awkward at the door.

And then it hit him.

He looked at you…like, really looked at you, and for the first time, he realised he’d never actually seen you before.

You were wearing a soft pink sleeveless dress, the fabric loose and falling just above your knees, cinched slightly at the waist. Your hair was tied into a side braid, fringe swept slightly to the side, with a few delicate strands left loose to frame your face. You looked like you belonged in a pastel painting.

Shit.

Were you actually—pretty?

Nope. Nope. Stop that. Sunghoon blinked hard, trying to erase the thought.

Damn it.

You probably had a boyfriend. Someone smart and warm and emotionally available who FaceTimed you every night and wrote you good morning texts. Someone who missed you from back home.

And besides…someone who could cook like you? You could probably bag Jake and Jay at the same time in under a minute if you wanted. Not that you would. But still.

He cleared his throat.

“I, uh…” He held up the plates slightly. “I thought maybe… you could join me?”

He wasn’t good at this. But his voice was steady.

“Only if you want to,” he added, quickly. “I just figured. Y’know. Glass noodles taste better on… plates that aren’t plastic.”

His eyes met yours.

He was trying.

And this time, it was your turn to blink in disbelief.

Sunghoon had returned with the container of glass noodles, now a little colder, a little stickier, but still giving off the faint aroma of sesame oil and soy sauce. You’d reheated it and plated it up, slightly embarrassed that the presentation wasn’t what it had been fresh off the stove, but he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he did, but you couldn’t tell, because for the first five minutes, you didn’t look at each other.

The clink of chopsticks, the occasional scrape of ceramic, and your ceiling fan. It was awkward. You wondered why he even came. Why he asked in the first place, if he was just going to eat in silence.

“So,” you said.

“So,” he said.

You paused.

“You first.”

“No, you—”

“Okay, I’ll go first,” he said, cutting himself off. He cleared his throat and set his chopsticks down. “I—uh—I just wanted to say thanks. For the meal.”

You blinked. “Okay.” You nodded slowly. “You’re… shockingly formal when you’re not pissed.”

“I—” Sunghoon let out a breath and leaned back a little in the chair. “I was never pissed.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“I was annoyed, sure. Who likes being called out?”

“I wasn’t trying to call you out,” you said, tilting your head. “But put yourself in my shoes. I have to wake up at stupid o’clock to learn how to make a soufflé or whatever, and meanwhile, I’m treated to surround sound yelling and the occasional ceiling vibration.”

He gave a small shrug. “Well, we haven’t done it in a while.”

“And I’m grateful,” you replied, lips twitching. “Truly.”

“We got a silence jar and everything,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t want to admit it.

Your eyebrows shot up. “A silence jar?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jay implemented it. He said if we keep it up, we’ll have enough for extra toppings on our next pizza night.”

You burst into laughter, the sound surprising even yourself. It came out light and real, and you covered your mouth halfway through. “That’s… honestly? A decent plan.”

“It can be,” he said with a grin starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Until everyone starts trying to play FIFA like it’s an ASMR video.”

“You guys actually whisper?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. You told us to.”

“I didn’t think you would listen,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him.

Sunghoon shrugged again, his eyes dropping to the plate in front of him. “Well… they changed my mind, so.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking.

That it wasn’t Jake or Jay who changed his mind. It was that night. The way your voice had carried through the gap in the balcony, fragile and cracking. The way you’d said I’m alone, Won like it was something that had been sitting inside you for too long, waiting to spill. He’d realised then maybe he wasn’t just an annoying neighbour to you. Maybe he was part of the problem. Maybe he’d been making things harder for someone who was already trying to hold it all together.

“So…” he said quietly, eyes on his plate, “why are you alone during the holidays anyway?”

“Couldn’t afford a train ticket,” you said eventually. “I mean—I could have, technically. But that’d mean I wouldn’t have enough money left to buy ingredients for my assignments the next few weeks.”

Sunghoon winced. “Oof. That’s rough. Must suck.”

You gave a little shrug. “Yeah. It’s fine though.”

He knew it wasn’t.

There was a pause. He glanced sideways at you.

“If you ever… feel like you need someone to talk to,” he started, voice casual, “you could just knock. I have FIFA.”

You snorted. “Oh, like I’d willingly join that mess.”

“It’s actually really fun.”

“How fun can flinging a ball across a screen with your thumbs be?”

“It is!” he defended, turning fully toward you.

You raised a brow. “I tried once with my friend and it was so boring.”

“That’s ‘cause you weren’t playing it right,” he insisted, already standing up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

“I’m not playing FIFA with you.”

“Come onnn,” he whined, grabbing your wrist and tugging you lightly toward his door.

“God, this is gonna be so stupid,” you muttered, dragging your feet even as you followed him out.

Inside his apartment, the lights were warm, the couch sunken in like it had been through a war. You sat reluctantly, tucking your knees up as he handed you the controller.

“Alright,” he said, sliding in beside you. “This is you—Team Two. All you have to do is use the left joystick to move, the right one to look around. This button to pass, this one to shoot.”

You blinked. “So many buttons.”

“It’s easy! Just follow what I say.”

“Okay… so now I just—?” You pressed a button and immediately kicked the ball out of bounds.

“No, no—move left. Left.”

“I am moving left!”

He glanced over. Your tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, eyes squinted, brows furrowed. He chuckled before he could stop himself, quickly looking away.

Then you screamed, “I DID IT! DID I DO IT?!”

He turned back just in time to see you score.

Sunghoon yelled, jumping up. “Yeah! That was it!”

You stared at the screen, jaw dropping. “Holy shit. I’m amazing.”

He looked at you again, this time longer. Your eyes were glowing, still locked on the TV. Your fingers tapped at the buttons like you already got it down. You bit your lip when you were focused, tongue sticking out just slightly when you were thinking.

And you were cute. So fucking cute.

The match picked up pace. Suddenly it was 2–2, and both of you were leaning in like your lives depended on it. You were yelling at the controller. He was shouting advice. At one point, your knees knocked, but neither of you noticed. The room was loud, just your voices and the music from the game and the way your laughter filled every corner of his flat.

Then it happened.

You scored.

You screamed, controller tossed onto the couch, and before Sunghoon could register what was happening, your arms were around his neck, squeezing him tight as you jumped slightly in place.

“I WON! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He froze. Your cheek brushed his jaw, your warmth right up against him. His hands hovered midair like he didn’t know whether to hold you back or not.

And then you let go, plopped back onto the couch, and grabbed the controller again like nothing had happened.

Sunghoon didn’t move.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his heartbeat stuttered. Sped up like it had been woken from a long, indifferent sleep.

He sat there, silent, staring at you as you shouted at your pixelated team.

And all he could think was well that…he hadn’t planned on crushing on the new girl based on one single positive interaction.

God, he was so screwed.

The next few days passed in a blur of almost-conversations.

You and Sunghoon didn’t talk much. Not like that night. Just a few polite waves across the hallway, a quiet “hey” if you caught the elevator at the same time. Respectful nods. The occasional awkward glance if your eyes met for too long.

And then Jake and Jay came back.

And of course, Jake being Jake, invited himself into your apartment before you could even say no.

“I missed your cooking while I was gone,” he sighed dramatically, sinking into the dining chair like he’d returned from war.

“Well, today’s your lucky day,” you said, flipping through your assignment folder and squinting at the week’s task. “Because for today’s assignment, I’m supposed to…” you paused. “Make a really mean chicken pot pie.”

Jake’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands, nearly tipping his chair over. “CHICKEN POT PIE?!”

Before you could even blink, he leapt up, yanked your door open, and sprinted into the hallway.

“JAY! IT’S CHICKEN POT PIE!” he yelled like it was a fire drill.

From across the hall, Jay’s voice rang out. “WHAT?! NO WAY!”

And then—another voice joined them.

A quieter one.

“Chicken pot pie?”

You didn’t even have time to react before you were suddenly hosting three grown men in your kitchen, all leaning over your counter.

“Guys,” you said, elbow-deep in flour. “I can’t focus if you’re all staring at me like that.”

“We’re just excited,” Jake grinned, chin in his hands.

“Well don’t be. I’ve never made this before. It might taste like ass.”

“Your hands are basically blessed by Gordon Ramsay,” Jay declared, grabbing a slice of carrot from the cutting board. “It’s impossible for it to taste like ass.”

You laughed, the sound soft and unexpected even to yourself. “Jungwon used to tell me that all the time.”

“Oh he did?” Jay echoed, voice teasing.

Sunghoon stood a few steps back from the others, arms crossed loosely, leaning against your fridge. He hadn’t said much since stepping into your place, but now he watched the three of you.

The way you smiled when Jay made a joke. The way Jake knew where you kept your mixing bowls. The way your eyes sparkled, just slightly, when you laughed about something from home. The way they got it. The way they knew you.

And the way he didn’t.

Sunghoon couldn’t explain it but it made his stomach twist. Tight and strange and uncomfortable.

And then he heard it again.

Jungwon.

Who the hell was Jungwon?

His name sounded too casual. Too affectionate. The kind of name you didn’t just drop without meaning.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just looked down at your countertop, at the flour dusting your hands and the delicate way your fingers shaped the crust, and all he could think was—

Why the fuck did he care so much?

You moved around your kitchen with the kind of ease that made it impossible not to watch. Sunghoon’s eyes were locked on you, the way your hair swayed behind your back as you leaned forward to stir something in the pot, the way your sleeves were pushed up.

His heart pounded harder than it should’ve. He tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe it was just the smell of garlic and butter making him lightheaded. That had to be it, right?

Except no.

He hadn’t planned on feeling like this today. Not when he woke up. Not when he brushed his teeth and went on his phone and told himself he’d stay in his apartment. He hadn’t even planned on coming over. And that night the two of you shared noodles? He’d chalked it up to vulnerability. Nighttime feelings. Nothing serious.

But now it was noon. He was awake. Sober. And you were still somehow making his chest tighten just by existing within ten feet of him.

God. He hated having a crush.

He didn’t even realise how lost he looked until Jake spoke up from the side, breaking the spell.

“So, is Jungwon finally coming?”

This guy again.

Sunghoon’s head whipped toward Jake so fast it might’ve snapped his neck.

You perked up at the mention, a smile blooming across your face without even trying. “Yeah! He’s coming in two weeks! I actually told him about you guys. He’s kinda excited to meet you.”

That smile. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced. You looked like someone who meant it. Someone who missed this guy. Someone who talked to him often.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and looked away, grabbing a water bottle off your counter just to do something with his hands. He twisted the cap a little too hard.

He didn’t know who the hell Jungwon was.

But he already didn’t like him.

“He’s coming over?” Jay asked, his mouth still half-full of pie filling.

“Yeah,” you said casually, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you peeked into the oven. “He’s staying at my place for the week he’s here.”

Staying at your place?

Sunghoon blinked.

He looked around your apartment, eyes scanning every corner like they were going to magically reveal a hidden guest room. But there wasn’t one. You lived in a studio. Everything was in one space. Your bed, your desk, your kitchen, your couch. Except… there wasn’t even a real couch. Just a throw-covered loveseat that barely seated two.

No air mattress in sight. No hidden folding cot. No suspicious lumpy bags that might hold a spare futon.

Just one bed.

His chest tightened.

Where the hell was Jungwon gonna sleep? With you?

He picked at the label on his water bottle, teeth grinding quietly as he stared down at the floor, like it held answers. It didn’t.

He wasn’t even involved with you. This shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother him.

But it did. In the most uncomfortable, teeth-clenching, mind-racing kind of way.

You stood in front of the three boys, arms crossed, heart racing slightly under your apron. The chicken pot pie sat on the table…golden brown crust, just the right amount of bubbling over on the sides, the smell of thyme and butter and garlic filling your apartment.

Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon each took a spoonful at the same time like they’d rehearsed it. You watched them, nervous, scanning their faces.

One by one, their expressions lit up. Jake’s eyes widened, Jay let out a satisfied groan. Well… except Sunghoon. Of course.

He stayed still. Always unreadable. But you caught it. The tiny pause, the way his brows lifted just a fraction. He liked it. He just didn’t show it like the others.

“So—” Jake started.

“Good,” Jay finished, already reaching for more.

Your eyes flicked to Sunghoon. Somehow, his opinion was the one you were waiting on. The one you needed.

“So?” you asked, staring at him.

He blinked. “What?”

“How is it?”

“It’s good,” he said, nodding once, tone flat as ever.

Your smile dropped. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What? I just said it’s good.”

“No, you said ‘good’ and then frowned and put your spoon down. Usually it’s ‘It’s good,’ then a second bite. Right, boys?”

Jake nodded enthusiastically, chicken still in his mouth. “She’s right.”

“Totally right,” Jay added, already helping himself to more.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re all being dramatic.”

You scoffed, insulted. “I guess you don’t want seconds then. Tch.”

You clicked your tongue and turned on your heel, storming off toward the kitchen, grumbling under your breath. Your apron fluttered behind you as you moved, and you didn’t look back.

Sunghoon watched your little pout, the way your shoulders stiffened, how you exaggerated every step. He didn’t know why, but he liked your reaction. No, he loved it. He found it ridiculously cute. Too cute, actually. That slight wrinkle in your forehead. The way your voice got higher when you were mad. The tiny stomp in your step.

The moment your back turned, his lips twitched upward.

When lunch ended and the three of them stood by your front door, Jake and Jay turned to hug you dramatically.

“Never move out,” Jake said into your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because you get free food.”

“And precisely why we don’t want you to move out,” Jay replied, squeezing you once more before the two of them shuffled out, bickering as they made their way into their apartment across the hall.

Sunghoon lingered. Just behind you.

You turned, raising a brow. “Aren’t you leaving?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped back slowly, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking to the floor before settling back on you. Then he paused. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say.

“The chicken pot pie was good. I think…” he exhaled, voice quieter, “I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It reminded me of home,” he added, eyes still on you now, a little softer than usual. “Not in the way where it’s about the taste or anything… it’s just… you cook like home. If that makes any sense.”

You hadn’t expected that.

Your cheeks flushed immediately. You turned away before he could see it, pretending to fiddle with a dish on the counter, fingers uselessly adjusting an already-clean plate.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice low, almost shy.

He lingered for a second longer like he wanted to say more. Then he gave a quiet nod and walked out the door.

It was raining.

It was only 4 p.m., but the sky had turned an eerie charcoal grey, clouds rolling thick above the city. Thunder cracked so loud you felt it in your chest, and the wind howled between the buildings, slamming against your windows.

You hated this.

You hated how much you still feared storms even at your age. How useless independence felt when you were stuffing tissues in your ears and jamming earmuffs over your head like you were five again. You turned on every single light in your apartment, lamps, fairy lights, even your microwave light and cocooned yourself under your thickest blanket, barely breathing, eyes wide.

Then the whole building shuddered.

The lights flickered.

And then everything went dark.

You screamed.

Your apartment disappeared into a blanket of pitch black, shadows curling up the walls like ink. Your heart pounded. You scrambled up from the couch, tearing off your earmuffs and patting the walls with shaky hands, trying to find a light switch like that would fix anything.

“Shit,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Shit shit shit.”

You fumbled for your phone. A message popped up from your landlord.

“The building is experiencing a temporary blackout due to the storm. Electricity should resume in an hour. Thank you for your patience.”

An hour? Alone? In this? In the dark? Absolutely fucking not.

You jumped at another violent crack of thunder and instantly rushed out into the hallway. Your blanket trailed behind you like a cape. You beelined for the only door you knew.

You knocked. The door swung open almost immediately.

“No time to explain but I’m shitting bricks here,” you said all at once.

It wasn’t Jake or Jay.

It was Sunghoon.

His brows raised. “The thunderstorm?”

You nodded frantically. “Are Jake or Jay here?”

“They’re asleep.” He glanced behind him, then back at you. “But I could… stay with you. If you want. Until it passes.”

You hesitated.

Then thunder cracked again, louder this time, right above your building.

You flinched. “Okay,” you breathed, defeated.

The two of you sat cross-legged on your couch, sharing a single candle as your only source of light. It flickered between you, casting long, warm shadows on the walls.

“Seems like you’re scared of the thunder,” he said gently.

“Well,” you sighed, voice tight. “I’ve been scared of it since I was younger. It just… gets to me.”

He nodded. “It’s okay.”

You noticed it then…the subtle tremble in his shoulders. He was shivering. From the cold, probably. Your heater wasn’t working without electricity, and the apartment was steadily turning into a fridge. You were wrapped up like a burrito, but he’d come in without anything but a hoodie.

Feeling guilty, you shifted toward him and lifted one side of your blanket.

“Uh…” he looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was being pranked.

“Relax. I can see you shivering like a dog,” you muttered.

“Oh.” He blinked, then grabbed the other end of the blanket and scooted in beside you.

Now under the same blanket, his body heat pressed faintly against yours. You sat side by side, knees pulled to your chests.

And then, in a whisper, he said, “You know…”

You looked over at him, startled by the sudden softness in his voice.

“I know I’m not as close to you as Jay and Jake are,” he said, eyes trained on the candle, “but… you don’t always have to find them for help.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m saying…” he sighed, eyes flicking up toward you, and then away again. “Never mind.”

“No, what? Just spit it out.”

He exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I’m just saying… you could ask me for help too.”

You stared at him, your eyes adjusting to the candlelight flickering between you.

“Oh,” you said softly.

There was a beat of silence. You weren’t really sure what to do with that. But you didn’t want to leave it hanging either.

“I’ll be sure to think of you the next time,” you mumbled, barely louder than the rain still pelting the windows outside.

You felt him nod beside you.

You turned your head slowly, resting your cheek against your knees, eyes drifting toward him. His face was tilted down, lashes long and dark as they blinked now and then, just slow enough for you to notice. His jaw had softened a little. He looked calm, in a way you weren’t used to seeing him.

“Would you rather have a million dollars,” you said suddenly, “or have no problems in the world?”

He blinked, confused for a second, then turned his head toward you. His chin was on his knees now too, and with the two of you curled up in the same blanket, inches apart, it felt almost like whispering under covers at a sleepover.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A good one,” you replied, lips twitching. “So answer it.”

He scoffed a little under his breath. “Uh… maybe no problems in the world?”

“Smart answer. Why?”

He paused, “I think people ruin themselves trying to solve problems that shouldn’t be theirs. If I had no problems, maybe I wouldn’t waste time worrying about all the stuff that doesn’t matter.”

You blinked at him. That was… not the answer you were expecting. It was a good one. Way too good, actually.

“Right,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.

He looked at you for a second longer before his eyes flicked down. “Your turn. Would you rather go back in time or go into the future?”

You puffed your cheeks out, thinking. “Hmm… that’s a toughie.”

Then your eyes widened, the way they always did when you had a lightbulb moment. “Go back in time!”

“Why’s that?”

“So maybe I’d really weigh the pros and cons of moving to a city where I know no one,” you said with a grin, but it faded slightly at the end.

Sunghoon stayed quiet.

“You must really feel alone,” he said.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I hear you talking about it sometimes. On your balcony. When you think no one’s listening. You talk about how moving here feels like a mistake.”

You looked away, embarrassed. “It’s not a mistake. I just… miss everything back home.”

“I get it,” he said after a second. “I was like you. Back when I was home, I wanted to leave so badly. Thought being somewhere else would fix everything. But now that I’m here… yeah, I have Jay and Jake, and they’re great, but sometimes I come back to the apartment and everything’s fine and normal and still—I just feel… empty. And I don’t even know why.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

You just watched him. His face had turned thoughtful, distant. His eyes unfocused, drifting somewhere past the flickering candle, past your walls, like he was staring right through the quiet that lived in his chest.

You mumbled, “Well, yeah. But… I also don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean—I’m here doing what I love. Not many people get to do that. And I made friends with three incredibly annoying people in this building.”

He turned toward you again, eyes narrowing playfully. “So we’re friends now?”

Your cheeks heated up instantly. You glanced away, pretending to roll your eyes. “Are we not?”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled softly at the back of his throat. “I’m glad you think we are.”

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “does this mean you’ll finally be nice to me now? Or is that too much character development for one night?”

Sunghoon smirked, eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint. “You want nice? From me?”

“Yeah. Like a full sentence without sarcasm. I feel like that’s a reward I’ve earned by now.”

“You earned a participation medal at best.”

You laughed, nudging him with your knee. “Unbelievable.”

He was already looking at you again—closer this time.

“Hold on,” he said softly, “you have an eyelash on your cheek.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Before you could move, he leaned in.

His face hovered inches from yours as his thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch soft but sure. The pads of his fingers were warm. His eyes, now impossibly close, scanned your face with a kind of quiet focus you hadn’t felt from him before. You swallowed.

Neither of you moved.

Your gaze locked, and the space between you slowly disappeared…inch by inch, breath by breath. It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.

Then suddenly, his lips were on yours.

Then it deepened. His other hand pushed the blanket off his head, dropping behind your neck to pull you in, and your hands found their way to his thighs, then to the curve of his jaw. His lips parted just enough, and your pulse jumped as he moved against you.

His hands slid to your waist. He lifted you slightly and shifted you into his lap in one smooth motion. You were now straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he didn’t stop kissing you, not even for a second.

The kiss grew stronger. He tilted his head, hand moving to your chin to pull you even closer, his mouth parting yours with a low inhale as his tongue brushed against yours.

Your hands moved back down, gripping at the soft cotton of his hoodie, when—

Click.

The lights flickered on.

You both froze.

Your faces were still inches apart.

You slowly pulled back, still on his lap. He blinked, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Like part of him wanted to keep going, and the other part… couldn’t believe you just kissed him like that.

You stared at each other, the silence heavy now.

His hands were still resting lightly on your waist. Yours were still fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Both of you breathless.

“I need to go back home,” Sunghoon said suddenly, voice low but rushed. His eyes darted everywhere except at you.

You blinked. “Right. Of course!” you said quickly, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. No—totally.”

He shifted awkwardly underneath you, face flushing as he cleared his throat and muttered, “Probably… need a pillow or something.”

It took you a second.

Then you saw the way he was subtly covering his lap with the edge of the blanket.

“Oh.” Your voice came out small. You quickly scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning so hot they could’ve powered your apartment during the blackout.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, already halfway to your door.

And then, Sunghoon stormed out of your apartment.

It had been a couple of days since you last properly spoke to Sunghoon. Not for lack of trying. You had…more than once. But each time, he’d give you a quick nod, maybe a polite smile if you were lucky, before promptly power-walking away.

Maybe he just wasn’t feeling what you were feeling. Maybe that kiss was a fluke, something in the heat of the moment. Maybe your little new crush was painfully one-sided.

But you pushed it aside. You had bigger things to focus on.

Jungwon was coming today.

You’d spent the entire morning rearranging your apartment, cleaning it from top to bottom, fluffing cushions and spraying perfume not just on yourself but into the air like it could somehow mask how nervous you were. You even did your hair the way he liked it, soft curls and a side part.

And then, there he was.

The door swung open and your best friend stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand and a grin already on his face.

“WON!” you squealed, running up to him and leaping into his arms.

“Hello, idiot,” he said, his voice fond as he hugged you back, lifting you off the ground with ease.

The shout must’ve startled the boys in 3C, because right on cue, the door across the hall creaked open and out came Jake and Jay, both peeking out.

They spotted you clinging to Jungwon like a koala.

You beamed. “Guys! It’s him!”

“The famous Jungwon,” Jay said, nodding in approval as he stepped out.

“And you must be Jake and Jay,” Jungwon said smoothly, setting you down.

Then came the third.

Sunghoon.

He didn’t move from the doorway. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Jungwon turned to him, a friendly smile still on his lips, chuckling. “You must be Sunghoon, then.”

Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “She just… told me you were like this.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon asked sharply, the scoff nearly audible in his tone.

Jungwon scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing. She just said you were cool,” he said with a shrug, throwing you a teasing look.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

You stood there, suddenly awkward, unsure what the hell had crawled up Sunghoon’s ass. The hostility was as thick as the tension in the air and you hadn’t done anything. Not really.

At least you didn’t think you had.

Just stood there, arms crossed, a stiff expression on his face while Jake and Jay welcomed Jungwon like he was already part of the group. Jungwon, ever the social butterfly, fit in easily, throwing a few jokes around, complimenting the apartment despite its questionable decor, and even teasing Jake about the ugly dinosaur pyjamas he was wearing in broad daylight.

But Sunghoon?

He was frowning the entire time.

You couldn’t figure it out. His jaw was tight, his responses were clipped, and every time Jungwon so much as glanced your way, you saw Sunghoon’s eye twitch.

You walked back to your apartment with Jungwon beside you, chatting excitedly about dinner plans and all the places he wanted to visit during his stay. But when you turned back, just for a second, you caught Sunghoon still watching. Still standing in the hallway.

His arms were still crossed.

And he didn’t look away.

Sunghoon stood there, arms folded across his chest like they were the only things keeping him together. He stared ahead blankly, jaw tight, doing everything in his power not to glare a hole through the wall. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

Sure, he knew he had a crush on you. He’d known since the chicken pot pie, probably. Or maybe since you wrapped that blanket around his shoulders. Or maybe long before that. But what he didn’t know was who the fuck Jungwon was, and why he was walking into your apartment.

“Dude,” Jake muttered, throwing him a sideways look. “You could’ve at least smiled.”

“I did,” Sunghoon growled, not bothering to hide his scowl.

Jay snorted. “That was barely a smile. You looked like you were in the middle of passing a kidney stone.”

“Why do I even have to be nice?” Sunghoon snapped. “I don’t know him.”

“Because your crush’s boyfriend just came into town,” Jake replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon's head snapped to him so fast you’d think he got whiplash. “Boyfriend?”

Jay raised a brow. “Not denying the crush though.”

Sunghoon ignored him. “Let me ask you again. Boyfriend?”

Jake shrugged. “I mean… yeah, I guess?”

“What the fuck do you mean you guess?” Sunghoon hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “He can’t be her boyfriend.”

“But he is,” Jay said with a shrug and an infuriatingly smug smile.

“No, he’s not. He can’t be. Because she and I…” he paused, realising too late what was about to fall out of his mouth. “…kissed. Three nights ago.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open. Jay blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jake finally blurted.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon muttered quickly, suddenly desperate to eat his words.

“You can’t say nothing when you just said everything!” Jake shouted, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Tell us right now!” Jay begged dramatically, gripping his own hair.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, flustered. “I—we—kissed. That’s it.”

Jay blinked. “You know we were kidding about the boyfriend thing, right?”

Jake grinned. “Jungwon’s just her best friend.”

“We just wanted to see if you’d admit you liked her,” Jay added, eyes sparkling with way too much joy. “Which you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sunghoon argued weakly. “I just said we kissed.”

“Okay, Mr Visceral Reaction every time we mention Jungwon,” Jake teased.

Jay smirked. “Say it. Say you like her.”

Sunghoon groaned, eyes shut tight as if the ceiling could swallow him whole. Then, finally—quietly, begrudgingly—

“Okay. So what if I like her?”

Jay and Jake immediately turned to each other with identical gasps, smacking each other’s arms excitedly.

“Oh my god, he admitted it,” Jay whispered dramatically.

Jake clutched his chest. “It’s happening.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if you keep acting like this, I’m never telling you anything again.”

“Okay, okay.” Jake raised both hands, trying to suppress a grin. “We’ll behave.”

“BUT I’M SO EXCITED,” Jay squealed.

Jake smacked him on the shoulder. “Starting now.”

Jay nodded solemnly, rubbing his arm. “Sorry. That one slipped.”

Sunghoon sighed and leaned against the counter, arms crossed again. “I started liking her last month… when you guys went back home for the week. She cooked me stir-fried noodles, and we ate together. Played FIFA. I don’t know. I just… developed a crush on her.”

“That’s so cute,” Jay and Jake said in unison, stars in their eyes.

“Seriously, can the two of you act normal for like three minutes?”

Jake shrugged, still smiling. “I just didn’t expect you to have a girlfriend before me.”

Jay patted his shoulder. “You’ll get there, buddy.”

Jake tilted his head. “You think?”

“Yeah, you have nice eyes. Great personality.”

Jake beamed. “That’s so kind.”

“Can we please get back to my problem for like a minute?” Sunghoon cut in, glaring at both of them.

“Oh. Right.”

Jay cleared his throat and finally looked serious. “Look. We like her. She’s hilarious, and she makes good fucking food. And let’s be real, you’ve never liked anyone. We’ve been trying to get you to double date with us for years and you just stare at your phone all the time. But with her? You’re like... a guy with actual feelings.”

“But now I’m losing to Jung… whatever his name is.” Sunghoon sighed.

“Jungwon,” Jake said. “And no, you’re not.”

“How do you know she doesn’t like him?” Sunghoon muttered, staring down at the floor.

“Because,” Jay said, “if she did, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Unless she’s indecisive or confused or something. I don’t know.” Sunghoon exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I was just… a moment. And he’s her person.”

Jake shook his head. “I’m telling you—just talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Jay added. “Before you spiral even harder and start writing love songs about her. But if you do, I haved like a couple of guitars you could borrow.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. But somewhere, deep down… a part of him hoped they were right.

You were pacing back and forth on your cheap IKEA rug, while Jungwon was laid out dramatically on your bed, arms folded behind his head, thoroughly enjoying the show.

“I’m telling you, he’s avoiding me,” you snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at no one in particular. “We kissed—KISSED, Jungwon—and now he won’t even look at me! I wave, he nods. I say hi, he nods. I breathe in his direction, he—guess what—nods!”

Jungwon hummed, annoyingly calm. “Maybe he’s nervous. Or maybe he wants you to go to him.”

“I do go to him! And then he speed-walks away like I’m the plague!” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“Maybe…” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, “you’re just a shit kisser.”

You whipped around and chucked a throw pillow directly at his smug face.

“Asshole.”

He caught it with a grin, clutching it to his chest dramatically. “I’m just saying. Maybe you scared him off.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t strangled you with this blanket,” you muttered, grabbing another pillow just in case.

Jungwon sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “You know, sometimes I forget we grew up together because you’re so unpredictable now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He snorted. “You used to be fearless. Remember that Heeseung guy you had a crush on in middle school?”

You blinked. “What about him?”

“You were six, and you walked up to him at recess, said ‘I like your lunchbox,’ then kissed his cheek and ran off.”

“Ah,” you said flatly, “the good old days. That girl’s dead now.”

“She’s not dead,” Jungwon argued, grabbing your wrists and tugging you to sit beside him on the bed. “She’s just… overthinking everything. Look, if Sunghoon doesn’t like you—whatever. But if he does? You’re missing out just because you’re too chicken to tell him.”

You glared. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“I know.” He grinned. “It’s my worst trait.”

“I just—” you exhaled, flopping back beside him. “What if it ruins everything? We literally just got closer. What if I say something and it all goes to shit?”

“Okay, counter-offer.” He sat up straighter. “You tell him, or I will. I will walk down the hallway, knock on his door, and go ‘Hi, my best friend has feelings for you, she also has performance anxiety but can cook a great bowl of chicken noodle soup.’”

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed, swatting at his arm.

“Then do it yourself!” he laughed, dodging your attacks. “Before I start printing flyers and pasting them in the apartment lobby.”

God. Why did he always have to be right?

“Fine.”

Your hand was already on the doorknob, breath caught in your throat, just about to leave when the door across from yours had swung open at the exact same time.

And there he was.

Sunghoon.

You both froze, hands still gripping the doorknobs, blinking.

You cleared your throat first. “Sunghoon.”

He blinked like he hadn’t already been staring. “What?”

You squinted. “Is that the only word you know how to say when I call your name?”

He paused. “Sorry.”

You opened your mouth to say something else but were rudely interrupted by muffled snorts from behind Sunghoon. Jay and Jake’s heads popped out from their doorway like nosy meerkats.

“Hoon,” Jay said in a loud, exaggerated voice, “we need more eggs.”

“Desperately,” Jake added, nodding like this was a national emergency. “Go to the store.”

Then Jungwon peeked out from behind you with an equally suspicious grin. “Oh, and while you’re there, can you grab some ice cream too?”

You and Sunghoon looked at each other.

“What is happening right now,” you said flatly.

Before either of you could respond, four hands shoved the both of you toward the elevator. You stumbled in, the doors sliding shut just as Jay yelled out, “Don’t come back without snacks!”

The elevator stopped at your floor.

Your shoulders brushed as you stood side by side, awkwardly watching the floor numbers light up.

Then, finally, you broke it. “About that day—”

Sunghoon shook his head quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Jungwon.”

You blinked. “What do you mean you won’t tell Jungwon?”

He looked away. “Well, aren’t you like… crushing on him? I wouldn’t want what we did to, you know… ruin your chances or something.”

Your entire face scrunched up. “Won and I? What? Ew. God, no. We’re friends. We grew up together. Thinking about him that way would be like incest or something.”

And just like that, Sunghoon felt like he’d been hit by a shooting star and given a second chance at life. His heart did a full backflip. You were single. You were available.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“Why do you suddenly look so happy?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m not.”

“You’re literally smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“We’ve hung out a couple of times and if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen you smile this—”

“Cut it out.” He tried to brush it off, biting back the grin. “I’m just glad.”

“Glad about?”

“Glad that I didn’t ruin your chances,” he said nonchalantly, looking up like he hadn’t just panicked thirty seconds ago.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the golden-orange glow of the sunset casting warmth across his cheekbones. He was handsome. Frustratingly so. “Well… because I actually like this other guy.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered.

“I haven’t known him that long,” you continued casually, “but he seems cool. I don’t really know much about him yet.”

“That’s… nice.” Sunghoon turned away quickly, jaw tight. He was definitely grimacing. Please don’t let her see that I’m grimacing, he begged internally.

“Yeah, he’s really tall. Really handsome, too.”

“That’s just…” he exhaled. “Great.”

“He doesn’t seem super friendly but he has a big heart. Even if he tries really hard not to show it.”

“Seems like a swell fuckin’ guy,” he muttered bitterly.

“It’s a pity though,” you sighed dramatically, still watching him. “I wish I could get to know him better.”

“Well… anyone’s lucky to get to know you.” He tried to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know I am.”

You tilted your head. “Not to mention… he lives really close to me.”

Sunghoon’s eyes darted to you. “He does?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, heartbeat accelerating.

“Like how close?”

You took a slow step toward him. “Like… just across the hall close.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “That close.”

Silence settled in the small elevator. You both just stood there, not looking at each other, tension hanging in the air like humidity.

Then, out of nowhere—

“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon said, dead serious, “but Jake sleeps with the lights on and Jay doesn’t wash his hair as often as you think he does.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I sleep normal,” he added quickly. “I wash my hair. I do proper haircare—shampoo, conditioner, mask, mist. I could do your routine too. For you. If you want.”

You stared.

“I can’t cook, but I’ll try. I can figure skate. I can spin twice in the air. Jay and Jake? Not even one spin. Jay can play guitar, Jake can sing but I can spin, okay? Without getting dizzy too.”

“Sunghoon.”

“And those idiots never clean up after eating your food. Jay doesn’t use coasters. Jake never makes his bed.”

“SUNGHOON!”

He looked at you, breathless. “What?”

You stepped forward. Slowly. Then, you mumbled, “It’s you.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I like you.”

And for once, Park Sunghoon had absolutely nothing to say.

“Okay,” he said. “Cool. Okay. I—wow. Okay.”

You raised a brow. “That’s it?”

He nodded dumbly. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just—holy shit. You like me.”

You smirked, the smile slowly stretching across your face. “Yes. I like you.”

The elevator dinged. Neither of you moved.

He looked at you again, still dazed. “Hold on, I kinda need a minute.”

You both stepped out into the empty lobby. The sun outside had just dipped below the skyline, casting a pinkish-orange glow through the glass doors. The streetlights flickered on. But you waited.

“It’s been a minute,” you said.

“I know,” he exhaled, hand raking through his hair. “But you like me back, so I kinda need, like… a long minute.”

“Back?” You grinned, the corners of your mouth lifting all the way to your eyes. “So you like me too?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious from the, uh… word vomit.”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged. “But I didn’t want to assume. Didn’t wanna be narcissistic.”

“I think even if you were,” he muttered, “I’d still think you were pretty cute.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Gross, I know,” he said quickly, face flushing. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

You laughed. “Yeah. But you kinda can’t take it back now.”

“Fine,” he said, pretending to groan. “You’re cute. Ugh. I said it again.”

A MONTH LATER

Jay and Jake found it fundamentally unfair. They were the ones who got close to you first. They were the ones who complimented you, made you laugh, showed up when you needed help. They loved you first or at least, that’s what they told themselves. But here you were, doors locked for the first time in three months, cooking a full-course meal for Sunghoon to celebrate your one-month anniversary.

“You’re not allowed to come,” Sunghoon told them flatly before slamming the door shut.

“But—!” they shouted in unison, already mourning the steak they wouldn’t get to taste.

Word on the hallway was that you were cooking the perfect medium-rare T-bone steak, paired with your signature brown sauce and a vegetable medley so crunchy and flavourful. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake sat hunched on the couch, scrolling through a food delivery app.

“Isn’t it funny,” Jake said, arms folded, “how we were the ones who befriended her first, and now we’re stuck with Burger King?”

“Life’s unfair, bud.”

Back in your apartment, things were a little more romantic. You’d decorated with fairy lights and candles, the room dimly lit. You were still being frugal, splitting every cost you could. But you’d managed to steal two T-bone steaks from the diner you part-timed at.

Sunghoon showed up in a black and white tuxedo, looking like he’d taken the prom theme you had placed as a joke a little too seriously.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“And you look absolutely handsome,” you grinned.

He walked over to the table and took in the spread. “Okay, what do we have?”

“I made the steaks, obviously, and then there’s the vegetable medley… and your favourite—mashed potatoes,” you giggled.

Sunghoon exhaled, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “How did I get so lucky?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

He laughed. “The guys are pissed, by the way. You made me all this, and they’re over there with cold fries.”

“What?” you said, surprised. “I made them something too! Don’t worry.”

“You did?” he raised a brow.

“I had a feeling they’d be hungry if you were over here.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to do that. They’re grown men.”

“Yeah, but technically my assignment this week was pasta and I have too many leftovers.”

“They’re spoiled by you.”

“And so are you.”

“True, but I’m your boyfriend. They’re just two annoying shitheads constantly trying to butt in.”

“I’ll be quick. I’ll just drop the dish off and come back.”

“No,” he said, standing. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”

He kissed your forehead, grabbing the lasagna you’d tucked into the fridge. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“He walked across the hall and opened the door to Unit 3C.

Inside, Jay was mid-rant. “I just don’t get it. Sunghoon isn’t even that hot.”

“I mean, he is,” Jake added, “but she deserves better, you know?”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “I can hear you two idiots.”

They both froze, turning around sheepishly. “We were just joking. We love you, man.”

He held up the dish. “And to think I came here bearing gifts from my girlfriend.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait—is that lasagna?”

“She felt bad we were eating good without you, so she made you dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Jay gasped. “Sunghoon, I don’t mean to be pushy, but please marry her.”

“I can’t,” Sunghoon muttered. “Not when you two are constantly inserting yourselves into my relationship.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll back off. Just—can we have the lasagna?”

“And can you tell her we love her?”

“I am not telling my girlfriend you love her,” Sunghoon snapped. “I’ve barely worked up the nerve to tell her that myself.”

“Wait,” Jake said suddenly, “you haven’t told her you love her yet?”

“It’s only been a month.”

“So… you don’t love her?”

“I do,” Sunghoon replied, almost too quickly. “I just don’t want to come on too strong if she’s not ready.”

Jay and Jake shared a glance before shrugging.

“What?” Sunghoon asked, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake cleared his throat. “It’s just… she already said it.”

Sunghoon looked up. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied casually. “You texted her about picking up those heat packs for her cramps, and she went all soft and whispered, ‘God, I love him so much.’ Her words. Not mine.”

Sunghoon stood frozen in the doorway, the dish in his hands suddenly weightless.

You loved him.

“So… you’re saying I should tell her?” he asked, voice quiet, almost unsure.

Jay and Jake both nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Especially if it makes her our sister-in-law,” Jay added, grinning.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “God, the two of you can be so annoying.”

“But you still love us,” Jay shrugged. “So what’s the point of complaining?”

He hated that Jay was right.

Back in your apartment, Sunghoon sat across from you, completely transfixed. You were dressed in a soft pink satin dress that shimmered every time you moved. It hugged your shoulders delicately, the neckline simple, elegant. Your hair was curled softly, pinned loosely on one side with a vintage clip, and your lips were glossed just enough to make him stare longer than he should’ve.

And God, you looked so beautiful.

He tried to pay attention. He really did. But his heart was too loud, his thoughts too full. How was he supposed to say it?

Sunghoon had never told anyone he loved them before. Not seriously. Maybe to his mom years ago, right before he left for the city. But this? This felt entirely new.

Because sitting in front of him was someone who made every quiet part of his life feel loud again. You filled in the spaces he didn’t even know were missing. You made his apartment feel less cold, his world a little less grey. And the way he loved you—God, it wasn’t something small. It wasn’t a flicker or a passing crush. It was all-consuming and terrifying and the best damn thing he’d ever felt.

He loved you like it was muscle memory. Like even if he forgot everything else, his hands would still reach for yours and only yours.

“Hoonie,” you interrupted gently, frowning. “You’re not listening.”

He blinked back into focus. “Sorry,” he murmured, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just thinking about something.”

“What?” you looked up at him, ur big eyes shining.

Sunghoon unknowingly smiled, his eyes dripping with honey, god he loved you. He wanted to say that. So badly.

“I…I just–uh–feel…that,” His voice trailed off. “You look really beautiful tonight. I mean, you always do. But especially tonight.” He hesitated, the words stuck behind his teeth.

You smiled. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”

Later that night, the two of you were in Sunghoon’s apartment along with Jay and Jake for the usual game night.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your prom-night dress bunched awkwardly around your knees, mascara slightly smudged from earlier laughter, hair pinned half-up. Sunghoon sat slouched in the beanbag beside you, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration. Jake was lying on his stomach, legs swinging in the air, and Jay had somehow made himself horizontal on the couch.

You and Jake were a team. Sunghoon and Jay were not handling that well.

“Revive me!” Sunghoon yelled.

Jay shouted back, “I’m busy trying not to die, dumbass!”

Button mashing intensified. Trash talk flew across the room.

“VICTORY!” Jake screamed, leaping up like a madman.

You followed suit, springing to your feet and clambering up onto the coffee table in your dress. “GET WRECKED, LOSERS!” you yelled, pointing dramatically at Sunghoon. “THAT’S RIGHT, LOSERS!”

Jake joined you on the table, doing a badly timed robot dance. The two of you jumped in sync, yelling in triumph, while Jay groaned into a throw pillow and Sunghoon watched with a hand covering his mouth, half to hide his smile, half to suppress a laugh.

“You’re all bark, no bite!” you called, face flushed, hair falling loose. “Your character died fourteen times, Hoonie.”

“I let you win!” he shot back, grinning as he sat up straighter. “I was being a gentleman.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “Real chivalrous of you, sir died-14-fucking-times.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes lingering on you for a second longer than usual. Then, without a word, he stood and walked out of the room.

You blinked. That was...odd.

You gave Jake a gentle shove off the table and followed Sunghoon into the hallway. He was pacing outside, one hand in his hair, the other fiddling with the watch on his wrist.

“Hoon?” you asked, stepping out and gently closing the door behind you.

He jumped slightly, turning toward you. “You scared me.”

“You okay? You just left so sudden…”

“I—uh—yeah. I was just trying to figure out how to say something.”

You tilted your head, arms crossing over your chest. “Say what?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug.

Your expression softened. “Are you mad at me?” You sighed. Maybe your little victory dance had been a bit much. “Hoonie?”

“No, baby, I could never be mad at you,” he said quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…”

You stepped closer, teasing lightly, “Do you want me to redo my victory dance? I could. You just have to beatbox, and I’ll take it from there.”

That made him laugh.

“Come on,” you grinned, starting to move your body in the most ridiculous way. “I’m pretty sure I should’ve been a dancer instead of a chef.”

He laughed again, this time louder and then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

You blinked. Your smile faded. Your brain, for one impossible second, completely short-circuited.

“Did you just say you love me?” you asked, heart hammering.

His eyes widened in sheer panic. “No?”

“I heard it.”

“You misheard.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, practically vibrating. “You love me. You love me!”

“Fine!” he burst out, throwing his hands up like he was under arrest. “I do! I love you, okay?”

You smiled, “You do?”

“Of course! I love the way you talk too fast when you’re excited. I love how you make my idiot friends feel like they matter. I love that you make me feel whole. That when I’m with you, I don’t feel hollow anymore. You… you make me feel like I’m not empty.”

You grinned so wide it hurt. “That’s because you’re not.”

“I used to be,” he said helplessly, gesturing vaguely like he was mourning his past self. “I was mysterious. Brooding. Sexy, even. And now? Now I smile at cat videos you send me on TikTok. Look what you’ve done to me. This is all your fault.”

You scoffed, “My fault?”

“Yes! Who else could it be?” he said, breathless, like the truth had been waiting at the edge of his tongue for too long. “You walk into my life with that stupidly perfect smile, that laugh that makes everything feel lighter, those eyes that somehow hold the whole damn sky and now I’ve got feelings. Big ones.”

He took a shaky breath, pausing for a minute.

“I used to think I was fine on my own. But now? I get out of bed just because I know I might see you. I hear your knock and my whole day lights up. For the first time, I feel like I know what living really means. It’s you. Loving you. That’s it.”

You leaned in and kissed him right in the middle of his rant.

He blinked, dazed.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who usually says nothing,” you murmured, forehead resting against his.

“I do it when I’m nervous,” Sunghoon whispered, and then kissed you again.

“I find it cute,” you mumbled between kisses.

Sunghoon grinned into the next kiss, backing you up step by step toward your apartment door, his hands finding your waist. “God,” kiss “I love you,” another kiss “so much.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “You’re very handsy for someone who claimed to be brooding and mysteriou.”

“I told you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw as he reached behind you, fumbling for the door handle, “you ruined me.”

Your back hit the door with a thud. He fumbled with the knob like he was drunk on you, eventually pushing it open and guiding you inside.

He kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.

You were still laughing into his kiss. He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed and you dropped onto it with a squeak.

He climbed over you, hands on either side of your waist, face flushed, heart in his throat.

“I fucking love you,” he said again, like it wasn’t real until he repeated it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes sparkling. “I love you too.”

#softlysoul recs #this was saur good #omg

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softlysoul · 4 days ago

Text

OUT OF MY LEAGUE ┆ A SIM JAEYUN ONESHOT

SYNOPSIS! summer’s here and so is jake’s chance to finally muster up enough courage to talk to you — the prettiest lifeguard he’s even laid his eyes on. only problem? jake’s too awkward and unlucky, but fortunately that’s exactly your type.

OR IN WHICH! jake tries a multitude of things for the first time in hopes of gaining your heart

GENRE! loser nerd!jake x lifeguard fem!reader, down bad! jake, simp behaviour, mutual pining, fluff, humour, first love, strangers to friends to lovers

WORDCOUNT! 12.0k

CAUTION! drowning, reader wears a revealing swimsuit, jake gets a boner, boobs, jake is like geeky to the point where you’d get tired of his thoughts, sexual jokes, one joke about being gay (happy pride month)

MIKAELA’S! thought of a baywatch au, but got carried away and wrote something totally different... going to be one of my last few fics before i go on hiatus cause of exams so i hope you enjoy!! i might write some drabbles/sequel based on this jake☺️ btw i've never been to miami so hahaha… sorry NOT PROOFREAD! | collection

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

read more on this jake: HERE

Jake can’t swim. Maybe that’s really the least of his problems right now since he’s already chin deep into the trenches of the vast ocean gasping for a catch of precious air to fill his screaming lungs.

And he really should be panicking because drifting metres away from the coast of Miami's sandy beach is wrong — at least that’s what you had said to the two ten year olds you had just saved from the ocean last week.

Not that Jake was listening or that he was following you around the beach: no he’d never, he was just being a good citizen. Yeah, that’s what he’s telling himself.

Because Jake Sim was anything but a sucker for pretty lifeguards in red swimsuits who looked like they could solve all his problems with a kiss. With hair that swayed like chimes as sea salt sprayed you, a goddess-like smile as you sauntered around the beach as if it was your home. Skin that glowed under the sweltering heat of summer, you looked as if you were from a different dimension altogether, and Jake wonders if you’re real, if he’s really here, watching you.

Okay, so maybe Jake was watching. Really intensely. But you would never know that because everytime you came so close as to look at his vicinity, he’d hide his face behind his textbook — right, his coveted quantum physics textbook he brings to the beach, his idea of a good beach read.

“She’s so pretty, can you actually believe we’re on the same planet as her?” Jake pesters Jay endlessly, mouth practically foaming at the sight of you in the signature red latex swimsuit.

“What other planet would we even be on then?” His best friend scoffs, the first time he’s ever seen Jake so down bad for basically anything other than wave particle theories.

Jake ignores him, eyes still fixated on you — a bright smile plastered on your face as the sun’s rays hit you like a spotlight. “I want to explore the science of the atoms that make up her being,” he says, absentmindedly.

“Okay nerd, wrap it up,” Jay stops his friend, before he embarrasses himself from the volume of his voice. “No hot chick is ever going to dig a loser nerd, more so one that’s head over heels for atomic structure.”

Jay’s right, you’d never be interested. And Jake pouts at that very idea as he watches you talk to your colleague, another baywatcher named Sunghoon. And he can’t help but envy a little at Sunghoon’s figure — tall, athletic, and definitely doesn’t look like he secretly enjoys the elements of the periodic table song. (Jake thinks it’s catchy).

Jake doesn’t even need to take a look at himself to know that he’s nowhere near Sunghoon’s level of physicality. With a body that’s only been to the gym to work there as a receptionist, Jake knows nearly nothing about sports or swimming to be exact, only dragging himself out to the beach to accompany Jay and to watch you save lives.

“If you want her to even know you exist, you have to do something other than hide behind that ass textbook of yours.” Jay points out, and Jake gets deep in thought. Jay’s absolutely right, but between your lifeguard duties and his nervousness from just being around you, he can barely think of a way to create an opportunity to even talk to you.

“How about I create a damsel in distress scenario where I desperately need help and she swoops in like my saviour.” Jake suggests and Jay groans at his best friend’s weird delusions.

“Do you think you’re in some kind of teen beach movie, that’d never work,” he scolds, “just go up and talk to her like a normal person.”

Normal. Jake thinks his definition of normal differs far from one of a passerby. Normal to him was burying his head in books, building a ten thousand piece lego figurine and bragging about his accomplishment to Jay the next day, you’d never like his normal, that was obvious to him.

“But I’m shy,” Jake states, as if drowning in a vast and wide sea is clearly the better option as compared to walking up to you and saying a simple ‘hi’.

It probably would be, in his defence, if he actually knew how to swim. Jake has never set foot in waters this deep or treacherous but it wasn’t rocket science, how hard could pretending to drown even be?

“Fine, whatever,” Jay gives in to him easily, knowing Jake would end up doing whatever he wanted to do anyways, “but don’t come wailing to me when you embarrass yourself in front of her.”

Jake scoffs, Jay doesn’t know that he’s got it all planned out in his head — from the moment he shouts for your attention to the moment he acts as if he needs mouth to mouth cpr and your plush lips touch his. A goofy grin lighting up on his face as he imagines the last scenario in his head, your fingers pressed gently against his skin, eyes glazed with worry as you call out his name in hopes that he’d wake up.

How romantic, too romantic even to the point where Jake turns pink and giggly with excitement, ignoring the look of horror his best friend casts on him to search for you across the beach.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, you’re going to get traumatised — like a trauma for the sea when you actually drown and can’t —” Jake tunes him out, used to his friend’s nagging.

“Don’t worry man I got it,” Jake says with utmost confidence, “she’s gonna fall in love with me at first save and then we’d kiss and marry each other before adopting a dog that’d be named Layla.”

“Layla is such a bad dog name,” Jay scoffs and Jake shrugs, head and heart both racing at the thought of you.

Jake remembers the first time he’d ever seen you around the beach, the day when Jay dragged him out of his summer home to ‘exercise’: a mere ruse to get his nose out of his textbooks and enjoy summer vacation for once.

That day, he waddled through the sandy beach, grumbling about how the granules of sand stuck to his feet uncomfortably and how they occupied the spaces between his toes. His favourite spider-man comic that looked like it’d been through war and back settled neatly in his grasp as he hung his head down to avoid the piercing rays of sunlight.

It’d only been minutes and he already wanted to leave, unused to the sticky feeling of sweat coating his skin like glaze. It’s loud here, too loud — party remixes blasting through the speakers of multiple beach goers along with the nonstop chattering and constant movement.

The only time Jake had ever been to a place this crowded was comic con when he was ten, and even that was air conditioned. Eyes still locked at the sandy pathway before him, Jake mumbles a string of vulgarities, fingers curling around the pages of his tattered book, lips dry from the heat.

And suddenly a shout from afar, a piercing ‘watch out!’ that gave Jake no time to react before a beach volleyball hammered into the side of his head, the force causing him to plummet into the floor with a disgruntled ‘ACK’, comic now thrown to the side as he held his head in agony.

Stupid fucking beach goers, he thinks, after having nearly consumed a mouthful of sand from his fall of grace. Do they know nothing about trajectory? Parabolas? How hard could it be to hit a ball properly?

His eyes are shut, mouth open to let out a moan of agony, head thumping wildly. This was such a bad idea, textbooks would never hurt his head this much.

“Bro, are you alright?” The familiar voice enters his ears, and Jake musters the energy to open his eyes, giving his friend a dead stare.

“Is the grass green?” Jake replies agitatedly, head still beating like a drum.

“Well there’s a lifeguard coming to check up on you, you know the pretty one that’s on duty today,” Jay states and Jake couldn’t really care less — the spot on his head still swelling. As if some pretty lifeguard could change anything.

Then he takes in a waft of your scent before he feels your presence, lavender sea salt and dreams as your fingers gently grasp his arm, turning him onto his back. Jake doesn’t know what’s happening, your touch leaving tingling sensations that made him miss the warmth of your fingertips, no matter how short the contact was.

“Sorry, I was reprimanding the kids who knocked you out, are you alright?” The same words or care that once came out of his friend’s mouth now coming out of yours, yet for some reason they made his heart flutter and ears burn.

Everything’s suddenly in slow motion and long gone was the snappy feeling of annoyance once he heard you, a melodious voice that could calm waves causing him to glance at its owner, only to see you — eyes, smile, skin all honey sweet. Jake almost lets out a soft gasp at your beauty, something about the tenderness in your eyes and the mirth in your smile that made flowers bloom in his chest.

He feels a different kind of lightheadedness, the one where he feels like he’s drunk on champagne of love. “Is this heaven?” he mumbles, a mindless question that allows a soft giggle out of your lips.

Jake’s in a daze, staring at you with a gaping mouth and clear, innocent eyes — his hair a mess on his head and his face sprinkled with the tan granules of sand. It feels serene, almost surreal how suddenly everything around him feels calm.

“I don’t think we’re dead just yet,” you answer, fingers moving to tuck flyaway strands of your hair behind your ear. The eyes of the boy in front of you are so bright and inviting you almost forget what you’re actually here to do. “Is your head alright? Any headaches, confusion or vision changes?”

“I think I’m hallucinating,” he replies, breathless. The pretty boy in front of you looks like he’d just fallen from heaven as he tries to sit himself up, head still spinning a little from the impact.

And he stares at you as if you’re some goddess, some mythical creature he’s never seen before. “I think I’m very much real,” you reply, pearly whites flashed out at him he almost faints.

“Yeah, cool, right,” Jake finally snaps out of it after receiving a sharp nudge from Jay who’s trying not to scream at his friend’s interaction with you. “Absolutely, same. I’m so real,” his cheeks flushed rosy red as his eyes left your figure to dart everywhere else.

Jake thinks that even the mighty spiderman hasn’t experienced embarrassment this bad before, in fact probably no one has. “So are you feeling alright?” you ask, worried as you finally take the time to scan his head for any major injuries.

Previous situation long forgotten by him, Jake can only seem to focus on how excruciatingly close you are to him right now, with your body leaned over his face, cleavage literally dangling in front of his eyes like bait.

And if it was possible to get even redder than he was before, Jake feels heat rush onto his face. It was probably two inches or three away, or should he say they? He doesn’t know, because he’s never been in such a situation before — the two of them, so perfectly shaped by the tight red latex swimsuit you wore just right there.

Jake also doesn’t know if he’s salivating or not, and he’s way too scared to even move a muscle to check or tell you about the weird position he was in, or maybe even adjust himself so his hard on isn’t poking through the material of his beach shorts so Jake just decides to lean back a little and close his eyes: respectful, gentlemanly, meditative.

“There seems to be no major problem from a look at it but if you’re feeling any of the symptoms i’ve listed before, don’t be afraid to come find me or any of the baywatchers.”

“Sure,” Jake responds, eyes still closed and body shaking, too scared to open his eyes again.

“Jake, are you feeling good?”

He peeks open his eyes, only to find you with concerned filled features and Jay who looked constipated trying to hold his laugh in. “I’m alright,” he says, playing it off as nothing.

“You’re unusually red,” you point out, brows furrowed.

Jake lets out a sheepish laugh, “it’s a sunburn, you know, the second degree kind when your blood vessels dilate which causes redness.”

Oh, he’s cooked — reaching the third stage of awkwardness: babbling extremely useless facts. It’s a tier system, as Jay liked to term it and he’s reached the gold tier of loserification.

“You’re cute,” you state, and he momentarily goes into a shock, soul leaving his body for a split second before returning. Did you just call him cute? Him? The guy who slept with spiderman plushies and talked to himself when he was bored?

“Thank you,” he replies before cursing at himself on the inside. Thank you? What were you, his teacher? “You too, I guess.” His hands rub the nape of his neck uneasily, tongue darting out to wet his shriveled lips.

“Thank you, Jakey.”

He’s so gone.

“He’s so cute, you don’t even understand Hoon,” you groan, face in your hands, wailing in such despair that someone else would think you were mourning. “His eyes, his face, his mannerism, everything.”

Your lifeguard partner leans back into the grey couch of your rest lounge, face full of boredom and annoyance at your nth time talking about the boy you’d seen on the beach.

Sunghoon’s arms folded over his broad shirtless chest as he said flat toned, “you know I got it the first time. If you like him that much just go up and talk to him.”

You sigh, fingers running through the ends of your hair in deep thought, you wish it were that easy, “there’s no opportunity to.”

“What does that even mean,” Sunghoon questions, “you’re literally a baywatcher, you can create opportunities to talk to that loser. Ask him to join the team or something.”

“He’s not a loser,” you fight back, as if you knew Jake personally. Sunghoon shoots you a look and you immediately add on, “maybe he is, but that’s what’s cute about him.”

“He either carries a physics book or a spider-man comic to the beach everyday to watch you,” he points out, “he has no life.”

Well, Jake does do that but that’s what you liked about him. The way he frantically hides his face behind his books whenever you look at his direction, forehead and eyes peeking out once in a while to see if you’re looking away. His facial features and the way he talked so animatedly to his friend about god knows what. You think you could watch Jake talk about paint drying and you’d still be interested.

“Look, if you like him that much and he obviously likes you, then find a way to talk to him — or like I don't know, pray that he drowns and he needs you to save him?” Sunghoon suggests, seemingly getting into the idea of setting you up with Jake. Summer around here was boring anyways, and he needed entertainment.

“Wow, how charming of you to wish that upon him,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at your friend’s suggestions. In the past few days you’d been watching Jake, you’d never seen him step foot into the waters, not even a dip of his pinky toe. In fact, he’d always place his stuff the furthest away from the sea, under the shade of a palm tree that decorated the area.

If Jake Sim ever needed saving it would probably be from something unusual like getting his foot stuck too deep into a sand hole he’d dug out of boredom.

“Alright, fine whatever you want. I guess you could stick to bae-watching instead like a coward.” Sunghoon sweeps his hair back, glancing at the clock hanging on the lounge entrance that gleamed a bright red 16:00, an indication of the start of your next shift. “Just saying you could always just ask him to join you for your duties, Heeseung does that with his girlfriend all the time.”

“Jake’s not my boyfriend,” you point out and Sunghoon scoffs, grumpy about the start of the next shift, “yeah, I bet you wish he was.”

With a grunt he stands up, beelining for the entrance as you follow suit, millions of thoughts running through your head.

Despite how people may have perceived you to be — a popular, outgoing person who had boys lining up for a chance to be by your side, you’d always found awkward boys charming: a nerd who’d focus on no one but you, who’d talk on and on about the things that interested them, who’d treat you special in a way no one else would; intelligently.

And there was something about the pretty boy on the beach, his awkward mannerisms and geekish way of speech that so starkly contrasted his attractive features. Jake looked nothing like a nerd at all and maybe it’s exactly that unexpected charm that pulled you towards him.

“Hey, isn’t that Jake?” Sunghoon stops in his tracks, finger pointed at a figure in the water that was flailing around, splashes of water visible from the elevated platform you were on. “Can he actually swim?”

You have to squint your eyes to recognise the figure that’s not too far off the shore — a mop of messy brown hair and a white tee shirt that clung onto his body like second skin. Yup, probably Jake. No one else would have the idea of wearing a shirt to swim like he would.

Another indicator was the tossed away comic book at the shore, spider-man on the cover prominent alongside Jake’s nike slides. And you’d think that Jake out of all people would know better than to jump into the ocean recklessly, especially when he seemed like the kind of guy to watch water safety videos for entertainment and enrichment.

There’s immediate urgency in your steps, rushing down the creaky wooden steps and onto the soft sand, heat scorching the soles of your feet before you take a dip into the ocean, rescue tube against your back as you swim towards him.

Sunghoon follows suit, recognising your intent. Toes padding across the wooden groyne for a better entry point to Jake.

Jake is struggling. And he wonders why Jay didn’t try to talk him out of this plan even more than he did. The water’s cold in contrast to the heat he’s gotten used to, engulfing him with nowhere to go. He kicks his legs in sheer attempt to keep himself up, arms mechanically swinging in circles like the demonstration video he’d watched on youtube just last night.

The salt water stings his eyes and he has no option but to close them — hoping that his best friend would notice that he’s now metres away from shore and finds a baywatcher (you) to save him.

It then all happens in a flash as he feels a board prop his body up, his back bent over the buoyant material as someone pulls him to safety, water no longer encapsulating his limb.

Is it you? He really hopes it is. Jake wishes that he had the capacity to open his ends right now and endure the stinging sensation to take a look at his saviour but he’s weak and his eyes are burning.

Sooner than later he finds his feet dragging through wet sand, sticking onto his leg with a sensation he wants to shake off.

“Jake, can you hear me?” your voice resounds in his ears but before he has the chance to reply, another voice cuts him off.

“I think he’s passed out,” a deeper voice, a man. It makes his heart palpitate, “check if he’s breathing.”

Jake’s senses now heightened from his loss of sight, feels your presence getting closer, body hovering over his, and he can feel them brush over his chest — his mind is in a frenzy and he holds his breath, trying to keep still.

“Hoon, I don’t think he is,” he hears your voice filled with nervousness. Should he open his eyes now? Or should he continue acting?

Amidst his decision making process, you move in a rush, palms getting situated on the centre of Jake’s chest, periodically getting distracted by the outline of his lean body through his translucent white shirt.

Jake doesn’t need to decide because one push of your body weight causes him to wheeze, a lough cough leaving his mouth from the heavy chest compression.

Opening his eyes to be greeted by the sight of you and your counterpart both looking down at him with worry, Jake flashes his audience an awkward grin, unknowing of what to do next.

Half of his mind has drifted away, feeling betrayed by how his plan had failed him, how swimming was actually way harder than it looked. The other half was scrambling to redeem himself in front of you, not wanting to seem like a loser, because it was 2025 — almost everyone knew how to swim.

“Jake, you okay?” you say for the nth time since you’ve met him, seeming as though every time you manage to interact with your crush it’s always about him needing saving and you being the saviour.

He nods, a soft cough under his breath in hopes to clear the saltiness lining his throat before propping himself up with his elbows and passing a look between you and Sunghoon. “Thanks guys,” he mumbles, fully taking in how embarrassing this was, “fuck this is really embarrassing.”

You giggle, extending a hand to pull him up. “Why would you go in the water if you don't know how to swim?” You questioned, head tilted cutely as you looked at him with curiosity that filled his heart.

“I do know how to swim,” Jake lies, “I mean it’s really all about buoyancy and overcoming it due to the lower position of our centre of gravity. Plus, if your lungs are full of air and you’re on your back you’d float for a substantial amount of time—”

Sunghoon stares at you in horror, as if he was asking you if this was really the guy you liked.

“Sorry guys, i got too carried away,” he catches himself before he could spiral into viscous forces, upthrust, let alone rotational equilibrium. And he catches how you’re looking at him — an adoring smile so perfect his heart skips a beat and his stomach flips. Jake swears he can hear angels from god’s heaven harping love melodies as you exchange his gaze.

“Don’t worry man, she’s into that kind of stuff,” Sunghoon says beside him, patting his back encouragingly, “it’s like she has a nerd kink.”

A loud slap echoes through the air as you send a betrayed look to your friend, cheeks heating up at his confessions about you. Jake, similarly wears the same look — as if a fairy had sprinkled rosy dust over the apples of his cheeks.

His teeth gnaw at his lips in discomposure as he watches Sunghoon flee the scene, a victorious smirk etched on his face.

“Sorry bout him,” you speak up amidst the silence, moving over to sit yourself next to Jake, a slight breeze making you shiver, “he’s really…weird.”

You tuck the stringy strands of your wet hair behind your ears, toes playing with the granules of sand under them.

Jake feels resentment in his heart for the very first time. Not for Sunghoon or anything else, but for the evening sun and the way it kisses your skin. He watches you in soft adoration before replying, “it’s not weird.”

You look at him, a soft hum leaving your lips in curiosity of the meaning behind his words. “I mean the nerd kink, not Sunghoon. Like—there’s nothing wrong with having a kink or being kinky. It’s just a preference, a kink— I should really stop saying the word kink right now.”

You laugh out loud, not a shy giggle but a real one. Your head thrown back in sheer entertainment from the boy beside you who looked like a moonlight’s kiss. And you think that you like him a lot. Because with Jake you felt as if you were at ease, it seemed so natural to talk to him about odd things: something you’d never really done before. But now you could only think of the things you have yet to hear him talk about, all the things that’d be nice to do with him.

Jake thinks that if the cosmos had a lullaby, it’d be your laugh resounding freely in accompaniment with the waves that hit the shore. He only now realises that it’s already evening and the beach is clearing out. And for some reason today, the beach feels like home: or maybe it’s just because he’s next to you.

He soon realises that you’re much more than just the pretty face that he’d noticed you for — for some reason, you bring out a different side of him: and he didn’t mean the loserish antics or babbling of nonsensical facts, you make him want to try new things, act wild, take risks. Around you he feels like living, something he’s never once felt like cooped up in the four walls of his study room.

“Yeah, you definitely should,” you grin at him cheekily, teasing him, “wouldn’t want people around to think you’re kinky.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, eyes glazing over your face. He realises that you not only look pretty under the morning sun, but throughout the day; a different kind of pretty, the kind that reminded him of seasons. And Jake feels the sudden need to lean over and kiss you without knowing why.

His fingers crawl towards yours, fingertips brushing over your soft skin cautiously, as if he was asking for consent to touch you, to feel you as if you were a sacred being and he was just him: in all of his geekish glory and ways.

Fingers wrapped around yours delicately, he wonders if you can feel how nervous he is through the sweat on his palms. Jake leans closer, breath slightly erratic in his own way — he’s never done this before, never felt this before: wanting to kiss a girl, and he thinks that he really should’ve searched up more about the topic of love or watched a tutorial on how to french kiss and maybe practice it on his arm before he actually gives you a kiss.

You welcome the warmth of Jake’s touch, fingers twirling over his in quiet acceptance and need. You wanted this, you wanted to kiss him, feel his lips on yours. The heat of his breath hitting your lips as he stared at you intently, eyes searching for some sort of answer to questions unknown to you.

Before you can lean into him, Jake pulls back, breathing heavy as he stares at you with complex feelings. Your shoulders sag a little in disappointment as you call out to him, voice soft and airy.

The way his name rolls off the tip of your tongue almost makes him lose his mind but Jake holds himself back, tongue darting out of his lips to satiate the lack of your lips against his for now.

It’s an indescribable feeling, to hold himself back from pressing his lips on you, temptation and desire clouding his mind. But he thinks to himself that you deserve more than that, more than just a kiss and frantic panic from him. Jake knows himself well, that without a plan he falters and the last thing he’d ever want is to leave you hanging while he took his own time to figure out his thoughts.

It wasn’t that he needed to figure out his feelings, no — from the very beginning Jake knew he liked you, that much was true. The swelling, hopeful feeling in his chest every time he sees you, how he loses his mind and forgets almost everything about his being when he is with you. The catch in his breath when you look his way and the comfort of your simple touch. It was more so the aftermath of such a rushed feeling of want: Jake had never dated anyone, let alone liked a girl. You were his first, and he wanted it to be right, be good. Not perfect, just genuine.

“I’m sorry, I just–” he whispers under his breath, his puppy dog eyes softening your heart. He cuts himself off, and he didn’t need to say more because you understood. His affection was prominent and sometimes love, in its whole entirety, didn't have to be rushed through like the world portrayed it to be. You think that love, sometimes deserves to be slow, like the calm dwindling of a campfire that mocks the sun, a feeling that warms us, feeds us, and cares for us. And for now, the heat of Jake’s hands on yours is enough, and you’ll hold on to this pulsating heart of yours against other rhythms. Because the world will come and go in the tide of a day, but here, his hand, with your future in its palm seemed to be everlasting.

“It’s alright Jakey,” you hum, a wordless confession of acceptance as he falls into your orbit just as you do his, an unspoken connection as sure as gravity that said I will wait for you, unconditionally.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you turn to look up at the sky, a mix of orange and pink, as if the universe was dictating a story of your feelings. The once blaring sun now a calm hue and you think you could stay here forever, with Jake’s trembling fingers wrapped around yours and the rhythm of his slow breaths.

“The sky is really beautiful today,” you gasp, watching the sun dwindle down in real time.

Jake’s still staring at you and he can’t seem to peel his gaze to the scenery you’re complimenting because nothing could seemingly ever compare to your beauty. And he’s seen this scene before, in those romcom movies and he always thought it was cliche but now, he understands it.

“So are you,” he whispers, and you catch it. You’ve heard this one before. Many times. But it was something about his voice, something different that told you it was the truth, like it wasn’t the same like the rest. “You look like a princess.” My princess, Jake thinks.

“And you look like a prince,” you tell him, your fingers tracing the veins along his hand. And you could sit here for hours doing that: tracing his veins like streets in a city made of Jake; all leading you back to his heart.

Jake holds back a smile, his heart beating inevitably. “I think a prince would know how to swim,” he jokes.

His eyes glimmer under the stars, and you wish Jake would just take your heart. “Well, I guess my prince doesn’t,” you say offhandedly, absentmindedly.

He catches on without a beat, the darkness of the skies seemingly giving him a burst of confidence. Or maybe it was just because it was you — his pretty girl who’d unexpectedly become his home.

“You’re my princess then,” he sighs contentedly, “we can be Eric and Ariel, you know, since you’re basically a mermaid and I’m a land being.”

Oh my god, you laugh (something you seem to do a lot whenever you’re with Jake), “I’m a lifeguard Jake,” you correct him, incredulously.

“But it’s synonymous to us,” he tries to explain, “unless you want me to be akin to Ursula, I could totally rock the villainous sea wizard character but then it’d be incest.”

Jake says it too innocently you almost tumble into him from laughter, corners of your lips burn from excessive smiling. The summer in your bones warmed the winters Jake’s skin has weathered as he catches you, steadying you as your body moves erratically from laughter.

“Jake, you’d be my uncle,” you breathe out, and he shrugs.

“That’s why I said that it’d be incest,” he exclaims, “but it’s common in some cultures — they’re called avunculate marriages, kinda cool if you ask me. Not the incest, I mean the fact.”

“Just shut up,” you tell him endearingly, head moving to rest on his shoulder.

Both of you don’t address the insinuation of a relationship but instead you and Jake just stay quiet, basking in the comfortable silence between you with occasional teases and questions. And Jake can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly.

You continuously tease Jake that he has a thing for people in red latex suits. The outfit of the superhero on his coveted comics he so often brings around having a close resemblance to the red of your baywatch swimsuit. Jake groans every time you bring it up, face buried between the nape of your neck as you continuously humor him. He takes it like a champ though, because it’s you, and he knows you’re secretly obsessed with the comics he brought to the beach too, oftentimes sneaking a read between your shifts that you now spent with him under his favourite palm tree.

It’s a comfortable cycle, coming to the beach with Jake, clocking in, taking a break with Jake, doing your second shift, and Jake sending you home. Your Jake-filled routine filled with laughter and stupidly knowledgeable facts that you’d never use in your life: like how if you break the word 'helicopter’ into prefix and suffix, it’s not ‘heli’ and ‘copter’, it’s ‘helico’ and ‘pter’.

You were stumped for a long time, as he proudly showed you the definition of it in his very own Oxford Dictionary (who the hell owns a paperback Oxford Dictionary?). “See,” Jake said, chest pumped out as his finger underlined the word, “Pterodactyl too, because pter means wings.”

You don’t ask how he knows all this or how he also knows that starfishes apparently poop through their mouths. And you vividly remember how animatedly Jake talked about the sea creature and its habit to expel waste through their mouths. “Their stomach extends out of their mouths to engulf and digest their prey, marine invertebrates like clams and smaller crustaceans like corals, and then it goes back in then the waste comes back out.”

Jake gives you a live demonstration without you needing to ask, waddling through the sands as he searches for a starfish, shoving it into your face in pure enthusiasm as he pointed out the different parts he was just talking about.

Not to mention his extreme love for comics, a cute framed picture of a ten year old Jake at comic con beside his bed along with other minifigures and intricate lego sculptures. It was endearing to say the least, how Jake wanted to share everything with you and wanted to know everything about you.

And you want him in the bluntest way, you wanted his lips, his hands, his arms. You wanted him the way the ocean wants the shore, constantly reaching again and again.

You share with Jake everything about you and he memorises it like it’s facts, like it was supposed to be his form of common sense. He knew your favourite book, your drink order, and the way you always tapped your fingers on your thigh when you were deep in thought. And he wanted to tell you that he prided himself in the fact that he memorised the freckles on your skin from the sun, how they were like miniature stars forming their little constellations. He wanted to hear you laugh, and know that he was the reason, and tell you that you had completely beguiled him, that you were his entire world.

It’s crazy how fast you can get to know a person, how fast someone can feel like a blanket of warmth even under the summer sun. Jake for once doesn’t have an explanation to this feeling, he just feels like this is what he’s for. It’s pure coincidence, or maybe fate, or even sheer blind luck but no matter what it was, you had his heart.

Not only that, you also had the breath caught in his lungs, each bone in his spine, even bone in his body, every single finger that shakes whenever you are near, all the muscles that ache in his mouth to kiss you, his eyes that are always looking for you. You had much more than just his heart, you had everything that kept his heart alive.

Jake watches you as you do your superhero duties. Right now you’re watching a flock of kids, pulling them away from the oceans cautiously as you talk with them, facial expressions spirited and eyes shaped like crescents. The past few weeks of being around you did nothing but fuel his desire to be with you — well technically he was already with you but you get the gist.

And he decides that if he really wants to get this right he needs to ask people of experience, those that have dabbled in the field of dating anything, though more specifically hot women who were way out of their league, so he approaches his best friend who he hadn’t seen in a while; given, he was too caught up in your pretty smile and twinkling eyes.

“Simp,” Jay rolls his eyes at his best friend’s sheepish smile, “you leave me hanging for weeks and suddenly when your girlfriend has work you come to me for entertainment.”

“Not my girlfriend, yet,” Jake corrects, acknowledging the title of being a simp, “which is exactly the topic I came to talk to you about.”

“What, you want to know how to rizz up girls?” Jay cocks his head as Jake lays down next to him, head hitting the soft sand with a thud.

“No, I want to know how you managed to bag someone out of your league,” Jake says and Jay rolls his eyes, unable to believe the nerve his best friend had of insulting him right when he needed advice. “You know, how your palms don’t get sweaty around her, how you even managed to get her to like you— just saying you look nothing like the type of guy your girlfriend would ever go after.”

Jay takes a deep breath, forgetting about how much he missed his friend’s company the moment he opened his mouth. “Number one, she chased me so I am definitely her type,” he starts, “number two, that lifeguard of yours literally loves you, she looks at you with heart eyes I don’t get what you’re asking me. Just ask her if she would ever accept some geekish freak like you as her boyfriend.”

“You suck at giving advice,” Jake scoffs, his best friend giving him little to no substance to even work with. No manual on how to ask a hot girl out, where to go, what to do, if he should bring you to a fancy restaurant or the movies — actually scratch that, Jake probably didn’t have the caliber to keep his mouth shut about the different facts running through his mind in the movies and he’d probably clumsily find a way to embarrass himself with his lack of decorum at a fancy restaurant too.

“Well, I answered, didn't I?” Jay fights back, “why are you even asking me, shouldn’t you be asking her — you’re not bringing me out on a date, are you?”

Jake cringes at the thought. “Touche,” he grimaces, “I’d never take you on a date, you’d probably drain my wallet with the way you eat. No one would ever want to date you after seeing that.”

“And guess who out of the two of us actually has a girlfriend,” Jay grins, “plus, you should be nice to me, I’m literally helping you. Don’t you know the saying — the one that goes never bite the hand that fingers you or something like that.”

“You’re not fingering me, what the hell,” Jake groans, mind consumed with a disgusting image of Jay. How the hell did I even become friends with this man, Jake thinks. “Please, never finger me or say that ever again or I’m actually going to hex you or worse, I’ll tell your girlfriend you confessed to me over the summer and you’re actually a closeted gay.”

Jay flashes an expression of horror, as if he’d just seen a ghost. Jake crumples up in laughter at his friend’s expression, arms hugging his body as he rolls around. “I’ll do the same if you do, I’ll tell your girlfriend.”

Again, not his girlfriend yet, but Jake doesn’t take the effort to correct it, liking the ring of the title a little too much.

Jake spends his afternoon thinking while you’re hard at work. What would be the best way to ask you about all of your dating preferences without making you suspicious? And he settles on his grand idea of a survey, you know like a buzzfeed quiz he could make and slip a few integral questions in that would help him fill in the blanks in his head.

He scrambles onto his phone, fingers flying over the keyboards as he logs into his buzzfeed account (user pinktiger551, long story) before he inputs questions to his buzzfeed quiz, occasionally pausing to think of filler questions to throw you off. And when it’s completed in its full 7 question glory, he thinks it’s perfect — not too obvious of his true intentions yet lighthearted and easy.

When your shift is over, you’re greeted by an over enthusiastic Jake, phone in hand and he shoves the device into your hands.

“Hi Jakey,” you greet him, overwhelmed by the particular amount of energy he had today, “what’s this?”

Oh shit, Jake didn’t think of that — he panicked for a short while, “uhm, it’s for my psychology course, yeah.” Jake settles on that, trying to convince himself more than you as you stare at him knowingly. Jake didn’t take psychology, hell a few days ago he was grumbling to you on how people who took psychology were wasting their time and physics was way better.

But you accept it for now, wanting to see what Jake had up his sleeve.

“First date,” you read, scrolling through the poorly written options, one of them directly stating ‘something else (tell me)’. You hold back a laugh at the sight of Jake’s serious facial expression, “do I just click this if my first date option isn’t on this list?”

Jake nods fervently, eyes of curiosity gazing at you, “now you have to tell me what it is,” Jake says, prepared to take a mental note on what you say.

“Well, I’ve always liked the thought of a beach picnic, you know those romantic ones where it’s late at night and there’s fairy lights surrounding us and we eat a load of junk food and laugh at everything but nothing at all? Yeah, I think a beach picnic would be nice.”

Jake’s supposed to take mental notes, but his mind is too caught up in the pronouns you’d used. Us? We? Barely catching on to your mention of junk food and jokes.

You said us, he grins, a lopsided one that showcases his set of pearly whites.

You scroll through the rest of the questions, unable to stop yourself from chuckling at the amount of times Jake had managed to sneak his name into the answers. It was adorable, too adorable. “Jakey, are you sure this is for uni? Seems a bit too informal for it,” you ask again once you reach the second question, a filler question asking for your priorities in a zombie apocalypse, one of the options being Jake, “I mean, not everyone who takes this quiz would know you personally let alone have kids with you…”

Two options below Jake’s name was the option of ‘our kids (perchance?)’ and you’d like to think that this option was dedicated to you and that this was not some random survey Jake gave around to random girls on the street.

“You’d pick our kids over me?” Jake gasps from your head, his mop of hair moving over to block your vision of the phone screen as he double checks the choice that brings him to his despair. “Our fake kids over me? I can’t believe it!”

“Well then you shouldn’t have put it in as an option, you know I’m a sucker for kids,” you argue and Jake has no retaliation, only having himself to blame for his lack of deep thinking.

The rest of the questions pass by in a blur, Jake’s intentions as clear as day as you reach the end, confetti flying pass your screen as the screen read: “You want to date Jake” in bold, an adorable picture of Jake in glasses underneath it along with a short paragraph:

Jake is the one for you! Even though he may be geekish or weird, Jake is your soulmate. This is a sign from the universe! Don't miss the chance to date Jake! Please, date Jake!

“So do I have to go on a date with you now?” you grin, waving your results into Jake’s face, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his features as he stared at it with glossy eyes.

Even though this was all planned by Jake, his cheeks are a pretty coral shade, his teeth gnawing at his lips in habit of nervousness as he shrugs, “I guess the universe is telling you to do so.”

“And I guess I just have to take this as a sign,” you answer. Jake under the evening glow of the sunset looked even more golden than he was before, and in this instant you realize that this man in front of you, who you think could be crowned the most attractive, funniest person in the world, actually wants you back in your whole entirety.

One of Jake’s favourite things about human physiology is the way one’s eyes changes when they look at someone they love, he watches the way your pupils dilate automatically like they do when it’s dark outside but this time it’s because of him — and he’s pretty sure he’s looking at you the very same way. The edge of his eyes soften a little and sometimes they even get watery which he can’t seem to control. Tears of joy, of course. And he has this habit of raising his eyebrows around you, as if he is trying to make his eyes bigger, trying to get a better vision and see all the details, blinking less in hopes of elongating this moment even if it was just for a millisecond more.

“Next tuesday?” Jake asks, and you nod your head in confirmation. “Is the universe telling you that that’s the day?”

“Yeah, and so is tarot.com,” he adds, “scorpio men are supposed to be filled with luck next tuesday, I think I’d probably need it then.”

“You’re such a nerd,” you laugh.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. But you love it don’t you,” he teases, “I still haven’t forgotten about your nerd kink, princess.”

You groan, never forgiving your coworker for it, “you’ll never let me live past that, huh?”

“I don’t know, will I?” Jake’s eyes crinkle around the corners, clear and radiant.

“I sure hope so,” you state, unable to keep your eyes off him, “or I’m going to start on my red suit theory again.”

This time it’s Jake who groans in embarrassment, whispering soft ‘no’s as his hand reaches out towards you, fingers caressing the back of your hand. “It’s just a mere coincidence, this is absolute torture.”

“Is it?” you grin, pulling Jake closer towards you, his presence welcoming as you inhale the soft scent of his being — a hint of vanilla and musk that you’ve come to recognise as home.

That night, Jake giggles on his way home, victorious from the results of his survey. You totally bought the psychology thing, Jake convinces himself that as he kicks his feet under his duvet, fingers flying across the screen as he texted you.

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.45 PM ] goodnight pretty princess☺️

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.45 PM ] i miss you

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.45 PM ] btw what is your idea of junk food🧐 just some details i need for psych class

You [ 11.46 PM ] Jakey go to bed

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.46 PM ] I can’t I’m shaking from excitement haha

It’s Tuesday and Jake’s freaking out (as he has been the past few days) — having already triple checked tarot.com's daily love horoscope tab just to make sure that today or all days would be his lucky day. Jake, although a believer of science over anything, decides that today he’ll leave it up to fate.

He faces himself in the mirror, chest puffed to imitate confidence as he straightens his dress shirt for the nth time, going over the creases of its collar. The time on the digital clock hanging on his wall showed ‘18 00’ and he pats himself on the back for being right on time, having told you he’d pick you up at 6.20.

Jake picks up the single white rose flower he’d built with lego carefully in between his fingers, the delicate structure having taken him seven hours to figure out how to landscape; but Jake didn’t mind because it was for you, and he knew you’d cherish his effort and time.

Unlike Jake’s clean look, his bedroom is a mess: courtesy to his extreme panic when he woke up late from his nap, his usual alarm seemingly only unsounding on the most important days of his life. Tiny pieces of green and white lego splattered over the floor as Jake tiptoes through the mess to finally escape the confines of his bedroom.

As he walks to your house, Jake dials up his best friend, in hopes that everything is already in place. “Did you do it? Jay I swear if you dip on me again like you did five years ago during our science olympiad presentation I’m going to hex you into another dimension.”

“Calm down schoolgirl,” Jay’s voice ringing across the phone, occasionally cracking up, “I did it, and I told you I had a stomach ache that day, I wasn’t lying.”

Sure he wasn’t, Jake just enjoyed teasing his friend. “Did you get the junk food?”

“I said I got it man, everything you sent on the list: cheetos, doughnuts, bread, and whatever the hell lobster butter chips are — those were six fifty by the way, you better pay me back.”

Jake hums, he’s not going to be paying him back, the view of your house now directly in his view, “okay now scram, I’m picking her up right now — wait actually I’m kind of scared, like not kind of, I’m freaking out on the inside. Quick question, do you think I should’ve carried my lucky charm with me today? You know the one I take to all my science competitions?”

“You mean the piece of spider man's suit that you claim is real? No?” Jay almost reprimands, “you’re going on a date Jake, not to a comic convention.”

“Right, right,” he whispers under his breath, inching closer to your front door by the second, “thanks dude, you’re the man.”

Jay grunts over the phone, a half assed reply before he hangs up and leaves Jake standing alone before your front door, single lego rose in hand making him feel bare. Maybe he should’ve brought a gift, oh he definitely should have.

Before Jake dwindles into full panic mode, the door opens and all his thoughts fly out the window because you look like you fell from heaven, white fabric of your dress draped across your silk skin, smile that embarrasses the sun into chewing its glory, stingy thick rays of you stealing the air from his lungs.

“Hey Jakey,” you greet him, and he feels all his worries wash away — like your voice was raw harmony that trickled throughout his body and soothed his soul.

Jake for a second is speechless, mouth a gaping mess as he just looks at you, pupils dilated and all. “Is that for me?” you ask, kitten heels clacking down the cement stairs of your home, extending your hand to take the lego flower from his grasp. “I’ve never seen a lego flower like this before, is this a limited edition of their series?”

“Kinda,” Jake manages to croak out, still entranced. He realises that he’s never really seen you outside your usual working clothes or a large, oversized shirt you usually wore home. Blush heat lips and honey ocean skin wrapped in soft melodies of lace satin, Jake with the whole dictionary memorised in his head, can’t seem to find a word to describe you; and maybe that was exactly how you looked, indescribable.

Jake doesn’t tell you that he spent seven hours rummaging through his lego collection like a mole digging through soil to find the correct pieces for this very flower, disassembling some of his favourite figurines to attain the fitting pieces. He doesn’t tell you that he built a white rose because it represented pure, true love and he felt it was fitting of you — his first love.

Falling in love, it’s a weird feeling. Jake can’t remember the moment he realised that he was actually in love with you and that this was much deeper than a shallow attractions based on your looks, he feels it burn so intense like an explosion of fireworks in his body; it’s the sleepless nights that left him feeling exhilarated at the thought of seeing you the next day.

“You look really pretty today,” Jake whispers as he pulls you in for a hug, breath tickling your cheek, painting them a sheen of pink.

“Do I?” you lift your head from his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his neck, “you look handsome, like a prince.”

“I suppose I’m pass the Ursula stage then?” He jokes and you giggle, “am I promoted to Price Eric now?”

“I’ll see,” you reply, pulling away with a lingering touch, fingers running down his arm to intertwine your hands with his as you lead him down the familiar path to the beach.

“So this is a test,” he furrows his eyebrows and you shrug.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.”

“C’mon baby, don’t do this to me,” Jake says absentmindedly, endearment dripping out of his lips like second nature. Your heart pumps, a song of fragile birds flooding your soul. Jake speaks in whispers of warm summer rain and silver rivers dancing through the abyss of the morning sky, and you smile, falling into this daydream. “At least tell me the prerequisites, is this a point based exam or like an aptitude type.”

“Charm me,” you tease, and Jake looks at you knowingly.

“You’re making fun of me again,” he groans, guiding you to the set up his best friend had prepared for him. And Jake thinks that his best friend has outdone himself yet again, and he starts to forgive him for all the times he’d ditched Jake during important science competitions because it looked like a dream — fairy lights draped around the area with a romantic ambience, food set up on the picnic mat that Jake guides you to.

You take in a breath, shocked at the view. Jake seemingly always outdoing himself whenever it came to surprising you. “It’s beautiful Jake.”

Jake’s shoulders rise up in victory and confidence, his first date looking to be going extremely smoothly for him: or perhaps it was because it was with you and you brought comfort with you everywhere you went.

“Lobster butter chips? These are so expensive,” you almost squeal, letting go of Jake’s hand to pick up the bag of chips in excitement.

Making a mental note to thank Jay when he sees him, Jake makes space for the both of you to settle down, summer breeze blowing as the waves hit the shore rhythmically.

And it’s in moments like this, you wonder to yourself why no one has ever been entranced by Jake as you are right now, how someone like him — so innately pure and beautiful in all definitions isn’t seen as he is in your eyes. Because his laugh is utterly contagious and his smile makes you giddy for no reason, the jokes he makes etched in your mind that you still burst out laughing days later: you’ve fallen for every second you get to spend with Jake, even if those seconds have left you wanting more. But in those small moments of wonder, you look at Jake and feel glad that no one else has seen him like you do, because if they looked deep enough to see all of those things within him, then you’d never have been able to.

You don’t even have to think about what to say, Jake already midway in a tangent about how excited he was for this day to arrive, something about extreme rituals and late night searches on some sketchy website called doctornerdlove that made him question his whole being.

“This man was a virgin at thirty nine, I thought I was reading about my future self,” he explains, pulling out his phone to show you the extremely sketchy website he had to get through two security warnings and five closed advertisements to reach, “and there was something about how someone tells him that sometimes a girl actually tried to flirt with him but he was too scared to even talk to them so he never got a girlfriend. And I was like oh my gosh, that could’ve been me— thank god you appeared before I turned 39.”

“Jakey, you’re twenty-two,” you look at him, adoringly, just like you’ve always been. “And you’re not even scared to talk to girls.”

“Age is just a concept, you know baby,” he starts, and the endearment still makes you shiver in delight, “and I am scared of girls, I was especially scared of you.”

Oh, you croon your neck in curiosity, you never knew that. Jake takes that as a signal to continue, hands flying through the air as he tries to mimic the exact situation, “okay, it wasn’t really fear, it was more of a wow-my-eyes-are-going-to-fly-out-of-my-sockets thing when I first saw you. You were checking up on me after the ball whammed into the side of my head, remember? And I asked you if you were real.”

“Jake, I literally thought you were so attractive then, I flirted with you,” you exclaimed.

“You did not,” he argues, “no way you did.”

“I called you Jakey and said that you were cute,” you point out.

“Yeah but my mom calls me that too,” he tries to retaliate, “not saying that the way you say it makes me think of my mom–”

“We were strangers.” And Jake realises. Oh, maybe it was possible. Maybe. Not that he’d recognise it in the heat of that moment where he was way too busy ogling at you and your things, but he’d never confess that to you. “W–well, I flirted with you,” Jake stammers.

“You said like five words to me and your face was as red as a tomato,” you shake your head, leaning into the banter you’ve come to enjoy with the boy you’ve come to love.

“Well it was nerd flirting, you know what I mean?” You let out a laugh that makes his stomach flutter and his heartbeat soften, and he wishes that that very sound could suffocate him in the morning dew and evening light.

“You’re the stupidest person ever when it comes to love,” you gasp as his hand finds the dip of your waist, pulling you closer into him, “even though you may be slick sometimes.”

“I sure hope so, because I didn’t do all that research on the dark web for nothing.” His fingers knead your skin absentmindedly over the fabric of your summer dress.

And suddenly, while he stares at you under the midnight sky, he just can’t take it anymore. He wants more, more than just looks and brushes of arms and legs and the stupid endless flirting. He wants to taste your lips and your neck and your cheeks and everything, to run his hands through your hair and feel the electricity of love rush through him as he has read in all of the books in his life. Jake wants to pull you in and never let you go.

“Kiss me,” you whisper and that was all it takes for him to kiss you like every fibre of his being was dying, and you were his medicine.

You’ve never lost yourself in a kiss, you’ve in fact never experienced a kiss like this; pure psychedelic inebriation instead of just lips against lips. And it felt like transcendental metamorphosis as Jake licks the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the essence of passion before delivering it back to you, over and over again.

Jake places his hands on either side of your face, and the room falls away, the space between the two of you explodes and his heart keeps missing beats, hands unable to bring you close enough to him. Jake tastes the skin of your lips and realizes that he’s been starving, his lips leaving your lips to place chaste kisses at your neck.

In that very moment you believe that his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over you like stars.

It leaves both of you panting and wanting more as Jake traces tiny little circles on the lines of your palms, heat of the moment evident through the red tips of his ears. And Jake thinks that he’s found his new obsession and he can pen it down in his notebooks that his favourite hobby would now be kissing you, holding you close, feeling your lips touch his and your limbs wrapped around him.

“Can you also read palms or something?” You ask, breath heavy as you almost shiver from the delicate dancing of his fingertips.

“I actually can,” he admits, chest heaving in similarity to you, his signature lopsided grin on his face.

You raise your eyebrows with a gentle smile, he’s so weird, you think as you play along.

“What’s does my future look like?”

And you swear, Jake’s eyes light up like a thousand fireflies, he takes in a deep breath before he speaks without hesitation, with certainty.

“It looks like us.”

It’s three in the morning and you’re laying in Jake’s arms, the warmth of his arms draped over the curve of your hips and under your head as he can’t stop placing chaste pecks around your face and down into your collarbones.

“Jakey, it’s three in the morning, please go to sleep,” you almost have to beg your boyfriend, your eyelids heavy as the still energetic boy who has your heart doesn’t stop at your command.

“Did you know that kissing was invented from Hindu Vedic Sanskrit texts from over 3,500 years ago and was described as inhaling another's soul?” Jake whispers, trying to keep his voice down, his lips continue to press kisses along your jaw, tongue occasionally darting out to place sloppy kisses.

“You’re like a dog,” you mutter, eyes prying open to be met with Jake’s mop of bessy bed hair and glowing skin.

“You dog at least?” he tries and his heart does a victorious pump of its fist when you hum in agreement, too tired to coax him.

“You know you’re so pretty,” he sighs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Jakey,” you murmur, and his head leaves its place of comfort to look up at you in attention, “I’m going to inhale your soul if you don’t sleep right now, not the kiss kind.”

Jake gives you a guilty grin and it follows with moments of silence before it breaks again.

“One more thing, since we’re on the topic of dogs, would you ever adopt a dog and call her Layla?”

“Jake.” You say and he gives in at the mention of his government name, telling himself that he’ll ask you tomorrow instead when you aren’t so sleep deprived.

And unfortunately for you Jake doesn’t forget, constantly in your ear about getting a border collie with white and golden fur. “She can be our child, you know co-parenting. You could be a mom and I could be a dad, we’d be dog-married.”

“Dog married? Jakey, are you dog-trapping me?” You suggest and he shrugs, lips jutting out in habit — the type of expression he has when he wants something really bad now amplified on his face.

“Perchance, is it working?” Jake wonders aloud and you chuckle, throwing your legs over his under the shade of your designated palm tree. It seems like even during your day off, some things never change; you’re still with Jake, you’re still at the beach, and you’re still entertained by his antics.

Jake takes your legs, palms caressing over your summer skin and you sigh in relief. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

Your boyfriend takes it as a win, a goofy grin spread across his face. The checklist he made in his mind almost fully ticked, the only thing left unchecked being the part about getting married but he’ll get there, Jake’s extremely confident because he’s if he’s managed to bag the prettiest girl out of his league, even flying cars would be possible in his books.

“You’d be an amazing dog-mom for our dog-child, dog-daughter to be exact, and I’d be the best partner dog-dad. We’d be such good dog-parents, our dog-baby would look up to us.”

“Babe, it’s a pet, let’s not get carried away.” But Jake does get carried away, imagining the moments where he’d dress your joint dog-baby — Layla in accessories and clothes, pamper her with you, do everything together with the two of you. “And stop dreaming of dressing our dog-baby up in spider man accessories.”

You know him so well.

“Have I ever told you I love you baby,” Jake tries, fingers skillfully massaging your leg.

“I love you too Jakey,” you reply, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. Jake leans into it instinctively and sighs in contentment.

“So what do you think of a spider-dog, or should I call her dog-women– dog-girl? With a mini cape and all.”

“Jake,” you deadpan and he slouches in defeat, unable to fight the use of his government name.

“Fine, no dog-hero,” he sighs and pouts.

Three months later, you appear at Jake’s doorstep with a dog in your arms, the shiny new collar embossed with the name ‘LAYLA’ in bold, the white and golden furred border collie wearing a red mini cape.

That night, Jake kisses you just like every other night, whispering unbeknownst dog facts that you don’t question how he knows because that’s your boyfriend — Jake in his geekish walking encyclopedia thoughts and talkative mannerisms, the most beautifully loserish nerd you’ve ever laid your eyes on who can recite the periodic table by heart but can’t seem to follow a pancake recipe, who has now chosen to abandon the spiderman plushies on his bed whenever you’re around to hug you to sleep instead, who you love with your whole heart.

Jake, though, swears it’s statistically impossible for you to love him more than he does you. Just because he gives you more kisses and in his words, kisses are the measurement units for the metric system of love, whatever that means.

You proceed to tell him to shut up (endearingly, of course) and he does, only to come back to you at the end of the week with a comparative affection count in the form of a double bar graph. It's so dorkish you can't take it seriously, making up for your loss in percentage of kisses by peppering him with more on the spot.

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