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ssunsak · 2 months ago

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˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐞

➜ summary: you ask jake to teach you how to flirt so jay will notice you. he says yes...despite having a 10 year crush on you

pairing: sjy/jake x f!reader,wc: 13k words , genre: friends to lovers, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

If someone asked you what Jake Sim smells like, you’d say a spoonful of ego, a dash of overpriced cologne samples he steals from Sephora, and a hint...just a hint of asshole. You’ve known him since you were six and he tried to sell you your own eraser for a dollar. You called him a scammer and well, he called you stupid for not realising it sooner.

It’s only been downhill ever since.

You grew up with him through scraped knees, schoolyard brawls, and the terrifying year he thought bleach blonde hair made him look like Draco Malfoy. It didn’t. Made him look like a surfer dude, probably named, Todd.

In middle school, he once convinced your entire class that you’d peed your pants during dodgeball. Naturally, you got your revenge by hacking into his Habbo account and stealing all his hard-earned furniture. He didn’t speak to you for a week…though you framed the silent treatment as “the best week of your life.” He jumped on you and tried to strangle you with his bare hands before you kicked him in the groin. The two of you had to be pulled apart by your parents and forced to kiss and make up.

But then again… you were also the only one there when his pet turtle died. He went through four tissue boxes, wiping away tears over the early death of his beloved friend, Sheldon. You stood beside him in his backyard, both dressed in black, as he solemnly lowered the shoebox coffin into the soil. You played Auld Lang Syne on the recorder because Jake, with tears in his eyes and dirt under his fingernails, insisted it was what Sheldon “would have wanted.”

And then there was that one time in algebra class when you got bored. You sat behind him in the class, and thought you’d try your hand at hairstyling…with actual scissors. He went home with a bald patch the size of a nickel and didn’t let you live it down. He cried. You laughed which obviously made him scream bloody murder. You only laughed harder.

That night, instead of letting it go like a normal person, he stood by his bedroom window which was exactly three feet away from yours and started launching tiny pebbles at your glass. Every ten seconds. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You tried to ignore it. Stuffed your head under a pillow. But by the twentieth pebble, you yanked your window open and glared at him across the narrow gap between your houses.

“God’s sake, Yun, it’s midnight.”

He didn’t even flinch. Just pointed dramatically at the back of his head like he was presenting a war wound. “I've bald patch because of you!” he whisper-shouted, so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

You felt bad. Only a little though. So you didn’t yell when he kept throwing pebbles until sunrise. You just stuffed your head under the pillow and endured it. Because that’s what Jake Sim was…an unavoidable constant. Just like those darn pebbles.

–

The two of you sat in your respective rooms, windows wide open. You were blasting your music loud enough for the bass to shake his desk lamp, and he didn't even complain. If anything, he hummed along.

Jake was sprawled in his desk chair, legs kicked up, pencil spinning between his fingers. “What’d you get for number six?” he called out.

You didn’t even look up. “I’m not gonna tell you.”

He scoffed. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re not gonna learn if I just give you the answer,” you replied, circling something on your worksheet just to look busy.

“Oh please, you get worse grades than I do.”

You whipped your head toward your window. “That was one time.”

“You mean multiple times, dumbass.” He leaned forward, smug. “Don’t make me pull out the receipts. Midterms, Chemistry quiz, that one math test you didn’t even finish—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” you groaned, chucking an eraser in his general direction. It bounced off the wall beside his window and dropped harmlessly into the space between.

Jake grinned like he’d just won something. “You’re so aggressive. No wonder Jay won’t look at you.”

You froze.

“What is that supposed to fucking mean?”

“Oh, come on,” he said, unabashed. “You don’t think I notice the way you look at him? It’s painfully obvious.”

You scowled. “You’re such a dick.”

He smirked. “Relax. I know you like the back of my hand, Bun.”

Your eye twitched. “The nickname's getting old. Retire it”

“No, it's not. It's a national treasure.”

“I was six,” you snapped.

“And yet so confident. ‘Jaebun! Jaebun!’” He mimicked your childhood voice with alarming accuracy.

You muttered, “Should’ve gone with dumbass instead.”

“Too late.” he said cheerfully.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Since you claim to know me so well, when’s my birthday?”

He didn’t even blink, answering you in less than a second.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “...Lucky guess.”

He leaned back in his chair, smug as ever. “Try me again.”

“What’s my favourite colour?”

“Trick question,” he said immediately. “You don’t have one. You once said colours were 'capitalist scams to sell more color pencils’”

You stared at him.

He shrugged. “I listen. Unfortunately.”

You grabbed a pen and pointed it at him like a threat. “Say ‘Bun’ again and I’m glueing your locker shut tomorrow.”

He only grinned wider. “Sure thing, Bun.”

–

Jake wasn’t wrong. You did perhaps have the tiniest crush on Jongseong and it wasn’t like you had crushes all the time. In fact, you barely had any. You were too busy…in your own little world.

Besides, Jongseong was different. He was quiet but warm, always smiling. Sure, you didn’t really know him but you could, if only he ever looked in your direction.

But he didn’t. Well, not specifically at you. He was nice to everyone. That was part of his charm.

The thing was, Jongseong only seemed to date girls who were everything you weren’t. The kind who wore frilly dresses and tiny skirts, who always smelled like some kind of floral mist. The girls who sat with their ankles crossed and giggled behind their hands. The girls whose hair was always curled and upright. The ones who never cussed.

You, on the other hand, lived in Jake’s old hoodie, the one he tossed at you when you were shivering so you’d stop shaking the bed. You never gave it back, and he never asked.

You sat with one leg propped up. You swore like a sailor and forgot lip balm existed. Your lips peeled constantly, sometimes dotted with dried blood from the sheer lack of moisture.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with being girly…it just wasn’t you.

You so badly wanted to be.

But you didn’t think you could pull it off.

You weren’t that girl.

You were never going to be that girl.

Or… so you thought.

—

It happened on a Tuesday.

You and Jongseong had been assigned to the same bio project, which, for the record, you took as a cosmic sign that fate was finally giving you a win. He’d come over to ask you something and you’d tried to hold an actual conversation with him while pretending you weren’t breaking into a nervous sweat.

It was going well. You thought it was going well. You were almost funny.

And then it happened. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it.

A girl, pretty, with soft makeup and a sundress, waved at him from the lockers. He glanced over.

There was a flicker in his eyes. Something subtle. Something you couldn’t quite describe. But you caught it. Something you’d never been on the receiving end of.

He looked back at you and kept smiling. The same smile he gave the lunch lady. The janitor. It wasn’t attraction. It was…niceness. Jongseong was just being nice.

And for some reason, that wrecked you.

–

The lunch line crawled forward at a snail’s pace, the dull clatter of trays and scraping chairs echoing through the cafeteria. You stood still, half-slumped over your plastic tray, caught in the kind of daze that wasn’t sleepy so much as indifferent.

You stared blankly ahead, shoulders hunched. Your hoodie sleeves hung past your wrists, fingers tugging at the frayed edge while the smell of overcooked rice and some kind of mystery soup drifted around you. You barely noticed the guy who cut in front of you until his tray knocked against yours, loud and careless.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t see you.

A hot senior. One of those boys who walked through life like it was a fuckin’ breeze and perhaps it was for him.

You sighed through your nose, small and bitter, eyes flicking instinctively to the other side of the cafeteria.

There he was.

Park Jongseong, laughing with his friends at their usual table by the windows. His perfect hair, his clean white shirt collar poking out of his sweater.

Why would someone like Jongseong ever court someone like you?

You dropped your gaze quickly, heat rising up your neck for no reason at all. Just in time for the cafeteria auntie to scoop a mound of fried noodles onto your tray.

You trudged toward your usual table, trying to hold the tray steady with numb fingers. Ni-ki and Sunoo were already seated, arguing about something stupid. Their voices bubbled in the background, warm and alive, but you barely heard them. You moved on autopilot.

And then your eyes wandered again.

A few tables down, Jake had his arms draped over the shoulders of some girl you didn’t recognize by name, but had definitely seen hovering around him during gym. Her nails were perfect. Hair curled. Really pretty.

Sunghoon said something, and their table erupted in laughter. Jake leaned in, grin sharp and stupidly attractive, fingers squeezing the girl’s shoulder like it was second nature. She turned her face toward his without missing a beat and kissed his cheek. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

You blinked.

Your grip on your fork tightened slightly.

Of course Mr. Resident Playboy was surrounded by affection, by attention, by options. While you sat here picking at your noodles, heart full of things you wouldn’t dare say out loud, mourning the simple, brutal truth:

You weren’t anybody’s type.

Not Jongseong’s.

Not anyone’s.

And definitely not Jake’s.

–

That night, you stood in front of your mirror, hoodie sleeves tugged over your palms, joggers slouching low on your hips. You weren’t sad, exactly. Just… tired. Of being invisible. Of blending into the background in every hallway. Of being the kind of person people looked through, never at.

Your gaze scanned your reflection. Slouched posture. That faint acne scar near your cheekbone. The uneven hair you barely brushed unless someone nagged you. There was nothing extraordinary about the person staring back. And yet, all you could think about was the way Jongseong had looked at her.

Not just looked…seen. That quiet, effortless kind of attention. Like she wasn’t just beautiful. She mattered. Like the world bent slightly in her direction just to be closer. You wanted that.

So you did the unthinkable.

You unlocked your window and slid it open, the humid night air brushing your skin. The three-foot gap between your houses had always felt insignificant—just years of shared childhood, unfinished arguments, and mutual pranks. You leaned out, scanning the opposite window.

“Yun,” you called softly.

No answer.

You stared a little longer before scooping up a small pebble from the ledge and flicking it against his window with a soft click.

Still nothing.

Of course. He was probably gaming again, headset on, screaming profanities at preteens while Park Sunghoon made terrible jokes in the background. You groaned, fished out your phone, and tapped his name.

It rang once.

“What?” Jake answered, already sounding irritated.

You exhaled. “Open your damn window.”

He hung up.

You blinked at your screen, jaw slack. “Asshole,” you muttered, arms crossed as you stared at his dark window.

A full minute passed. Then, the curtains shifted and his window creaked open. Jake leaned out lazily, resting his forearms on the sill. His hair was messy, and he looked like he’d just rolled off his bed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was mid-shit.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. Of course. He always said things like that. Because he didn’t see you like that. You weren’t a girl in his eyes. Just you. And even if you didn’t like Jake like that, it still stung more than it should’ve.

Your fingers gripped your window ledge tighter.

“Yun,” you tried again, voice lower now, more vulnerable. “I need your help.”

Jake squinted across the narrow space between your windows, “Sup?”

You hovered near the edge of your bed, fingers curling into the blanket. The words clung to your throat like they didn’t want to be let out. “I, uh…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows pulling together. “You what?”

You looked away, suddenly regretting saying anything at all.

Jake let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Dude. Just spit it out. You’re stressing me out.”

Your voice came out smaller than you intended. “I want you to teach me how to be a girl.”

He blinked before scoffing, “Stop fuckin’ around. I’m in a Fortnite lobby with Sunghoon. I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not fucking around.” Your breath hitched slightly. You didn’t mean to sound dramatic, but you couldn’t help it.

Jake leaned farther out the window, his legs swinging carelessly over the edge as he peered at you like he was trying to read your face. “You’re insane.”

“How am I insane?”

“You’re already a…a girl.”

You crossed your arms. “Just ten minutes ago, you told me you took a big fat shit.”

“So? I always say that kind of stuff to you.”

“Exactly. Now, would you say that to the hot girls you’re trying to flirt with?”

“No, but that—”

“No,” you cut in sharply. “You wouldn’t. And that means…”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That means what?”

“That means you don’t see me as a…” Your voice softened to a whisper. “Woman.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Well, I clearly do now. You’re acting like you’re on your period.”

You grabbed a ping pong ball from your nightstand and lobbed it at his head. It bounced off his temple with a soft thwack.

“OW—?” he recoiled, rubbing the spot. “What the hell?”

“You practically asked for it,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jake sighed, shifting to sit properly on his window ledge, feet dangling as he leaned his head against the frame. “Is this about… your crush on…uh…Jongseong?”

You said nothing. Just stared at your blanket.

Jake let out a low laugh. “It is, isn’t it? Why do you wanna change anyway? You're fine the way you are...just like this.”

"I don't wanna be just—"

"God, you are such a girl."

“If you’re gonna be an asshole about it, I’m—”

“You’re gonna what? Threaten me even though I know your biggest, darkest secret?”

You scoffed, arms tightening across your chest. “Fine. You win. Like always. You get the girls you want, the friends, the popularity. You get everything, Jaeyun.”

Jake let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, except it wasn’t. “You think I get what I want? You are sorely mistaken because–”

He paused. His eyes flicked to you. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but he shut it just as fast and shook his head. “Doesn’t even matter.”

You didn’t press him. You figured it’d be something sarcastic or gross anyway.

“Yun…” You bit your lip. “You don’t know what it’s like. Knowing people don’t look at you the way you want them to. I don’t mind being invisible. I don’t mind being forgettable. But sometimes it just sucks. Watching people flirt with girls like they’re the only ones worth looking at. And I’m not. This is stupid but it’s just–”

“It’s really funny you think that way.” He said, laughing almost bitterly before he shook his head.

The room fell into silence. Jake didn’t say anything for a while.

“Look, if I help you, will you shut up about this cringey bullshit?” He spoke again.

You looked up. A slow smile tugged at your lips. “You’ll help?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m the person you’re asking.”

“You’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

He stilled.

And that, more than anything, made Jake stop and think.

–

Jake hated Wednesdays.

He hated the long hours, the after school academy his mom sends him to, the way the fluorescent lights in the academy made his eyes ache by the second hour. Everyone there moved like machines, quiet, efficient, terrifyingly focused. He didn’t know anyone, and no one cared to know him.Just equations and deadlines and that one girl who once cried during a physics mock.

But one thing made it bearable.

You.

Same academy, different class. Same hell, different schedule. But you always ended up outside the gates at exactly 9 p.m., when his last class ended.

He saw you before he felt the wind, your figure under the yellow glow of the streetlamp, head bowed, nose buried in a half-crumpled chemistry textbook. Your bag hung off one shoulder, your cardigan sleeves pushed up, revealing ink-stained wrists. You were walking slowly, lips moving like you were mouthing formulas, completely oblivious to the world around you.

Jake watched for a second, letting the cold bite his cheeks.

He adjusted his hoodie and jogged up to meet you, as he always did, no hello, no warning, just bumped your shoulder lightly with his.

You blinked up from your book, startled, “Jesus fu—Jaeyun. You scared me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you wait for me up front?”

“I wanted to get the last hotteok before the shop closed,” you said, pointing ahead.

“Without me?”

“You always take your time, and I got lazy.” You rolled your eyes and snapped your book shut, fumbling to shove it back into your bag.

Jake scoffed, reaching over to grab the book from you. He slid it into your bag with ease. “What makes you think I didn’t want any?”

“I was gonna get you one and pass it to you through the window,” you muttered.

Jake grinned. “How sweet.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Why the sudden generosity?” Jake asked, giving you a sideways glance as the two of you continued walking under the soft orange glow of the streetlights. The path curved through the park, quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves.

You hesitated. “Last night—” You swallowed hard. “I… I was in a rut. And I didn’t really mean for you to, you know, teach me how to be a girl. I think I was just...spiralling."

Jake didn’t say anything, but he slowed a little, turning just slightly toward you.

“You were right,” you went on, hugging your arms around yourself. “I am a girl. And I don’t have to… change who I am to be with Jongseong.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Glad you finally see it my way.”

“But…” You stopped walking, spinning to face him as you pointed a finger at his chest. “I do want to change my request.”

Jake groaned, head tipping back as he rolled his eyes. “What now?”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, fingers fidgeting at the sleeves of your cardigan. The words got stuck in your throat. You looked anywhere but him, your shoes, the tree beside you, the flickering street lamp overhead.

“If you’re not gonna teach me how to be girlier…” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, “could you at least teach me how to…”

There was a pause. Your hands made vague, awkward motions in the air. Jake just stood there, waiting, arms folded, eyebrow raised, looking far too amused.

“What?”

You looked up at him, cheeks burning. “Could you teach me how to… flirt?”

Jake blinked. “You want…me to teach you how to flirt?”

His voice cracked…barely, but enough to make your shoulders tense.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted. The corners of his mouth twitched. His brows lifted, eyes lighting up. You knew he was about to say something incredibly annoying.

“Oh.” He took a step closer, head tilted, grin spreading wide. “Oh. Flirting, huh…”

You immediately regretted speaking. “Don’t make it weird, Jake.”

“Too late,” he said, voice practically gleeful. “So do you call me Mr. Sim now? I have a small whiteboard at home. I could bring it over tomorrow. Maybe some flashcards—OW!”

You smacked his arm, sharp and fast. He flinched back, laughing as he rubbed the spot you hit.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, spinning on your heel. Your pace picked up, arms crossed tight over your chest as your bag bounced against your side with each frustrated step.

Jake was still laughing behind you, low and amused. You could hear the gravel crunch under his sneakers as he jogged to catch up.

“Bun, come on,” he called, still breathless with laughter. “Don’t be like that. I’ll stop. I swear.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even slow down.

Jake finally caught up, matching your stride as he nudged your arm with his elbow, more gentle this time. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

You glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He nodded, gaze fixed ahead now, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets. His grin was still there but a little softer, a little less smug.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

And though he kept smiling, though he bumped your shoulder again like everything was fine, something tugged quietly at the edge of his chest.

��

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Jake had insisted your “first official lesson” take place at a café just down the street from school.

You sat across from him at a window seat, fingers wrapped awkwardly around a lukewarm latte while Jake leaned back in his chair, legs spread, one arm slung casually across the backrest.

“Alright,” he said, tapping the side of his cup with a spoon. “First target locked. Look at that guy over there.”

You followed his nod toward a boy near the counter. He had dark hair that curled just slightly at the nape of his neck, a clean, sharp profile, and a navy windbreaker slung effortlessly over a white tee. He was scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing toward the barista with a faint, almost unreadable smile.

“Ooh, he’s kinda cute,” you murmured, straightening a little in your seat.

Jake blinked before shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. New target.”

“What? Why?” you frowned.

“He… he doesn’t seem nice,” Jake muttered, picking up his drink and deliberately looking away.

You squinted at him. “He seems totally nice. Mysterious, sure, but definitely polite.”

Jake scoffed under his breath. “You don’t know men.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you do?”

“I am one,” he snapped, scanning the room again like a snob.

“You are? Didn’t notice.”

Jake frowned, ignoring your comment. A second later, he pointed toward a guy near the pastry shelf. “That guy.”

You followed his gaze again, but you were still stuck on the first one.

“…He’s not even cute,” you said flatly.

Jake didn’t look at you. “Exactly, so ask him out.”

“But he’s not even–”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and cut you off. “Look, we’re here to boost your confidence. It’s not gonna be a sure thing, so start small.”

“Fine,” you muttered, folding your arms. After a beat, you turned to him. “Do I look okay?”

Your hair was down for once, soft waves brushing just past your shoulders. You’d run a brush through it and tucked one side neatly behind your ear. Your skin had that subtle glow, not from makeup really, but from actually washing your face and maybe using that tinted sunscreen your friend, Sunoo, swore by.

That even Jake had done a double take when you opened the front door. He’d blinked, eyes flicking from your hair to your blouse like his brain couldn’t compute what he was seeing.

EARLIER THAT DAY

Jake showed up five minutes early, as usual, slouching on your porch with his phone in hand. He didn’t bother knocking…he never had to. He was practically part of the house by now. The front door swung open before he could even reach for the handle. “Oh, Jaeyun,” your mom greeted with a knowing smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You’re early today.” Jake grinned. “Just a little. Didn’t wanna get yelled at for being late.” She laughed and stepped aside to let him in. “She’s taking a bit long today. Not too sure why.” He kicked off his shoes and followed her into the entryway, glancing up the stairs. “It’s fine, I can wait.” Your mom raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “I mean…sure. But she usually doesn’t take this long. She’s been up getting ready for two hours.” Jake nearly choked. “Two hours?” Before your mom could answer, your voice floated from upstairs. “Is Jake here, Mom?” “Just arrived!” she called back. Jake leaned against the banister, still puzzled. He could hear your footsteps now. Then you appeared at the top of the stairs. He paused. Your hair was down. Like, fully down. He hadn’t seen that since you were twelve and you’d cut your own bangs in a bathroom mirror. It was longer now, softer, brushed neatly around your shoulders. You wore a pink blouse with tiny buttons and puffed sleeves, cinched just slightly at the waist. It hugged your frame in a way none of your hoodies ever had. Paired with a white skirt and sneakers that didn’t look like they’d survived through hell and back, for once, you looked… polished. His heart stuttered. Jake cleared his throat, eyes trailing over you as you stepped down the stairs. “You look… different.” You froze mid-step, one foot hovering slightly above the next stair, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Different good? Different bad? God, I knew I shouldn’t have followed that stupid Pinterest board. It said ‘cute girl outfits’ and I just assumed—” “I didn’t even say—” “Oh my God, I do look stupid.” You looked down at yourself in dismay, tugging at the hem of your skirt. “God, Bun,” Jake muttered, already striding up the steps toward you. He reached out, exasperated but weirdly gentle, and slapped a hand over your mouth. “Let me fuckin' speak,” he said, voice low and a little too sincere for comfort. “You look good. Now shut up.” And his hand lingered for just a second too long before he seemed to realise what he was doing and stepped back.

PRESENT

His gaze dragged from your eyes to your mouth, then darted away too fast, like he’d been caught staring. “Yeah, you look fine” he said, nodding once, maybe a little too firmly.

You frowned. “Are you sure?”

Digging into your pocket, you pulled out a tube of gloss and held it up. “Do I need more lip gloss? I saw this TikTok? Apparently these are, like, really in right now.”

You leaned toward the window as you dabbed it on, lips pressing together with a soft smack. Then you turned back to him. “Better?”

Jake swallowed. His jaw twitched.

He turned back toward the window a beat too quickly, pretending to scan the crowd like he hadn’t heard you. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice dipping low. “You look fine.”

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

He groaned. “What the hell do you want me to say?”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. So what do I do now, Mr. Sim?”

He cleared his throat, straightening up. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping just a notch as he shifted gears.

“Well… one thing about guys is that they’re simple. They like to be complimented.”

You raised a brow. “Are they dogs?”

“Not gonna lie, they tend to be,” Jake snorted. “Anyway, since your hair’s already down… you could just—”

His hand moved before your brain could catch up. Fingers brushing lightly behind your ear as he tucked a loose strand of hair back.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t pull away immediately, just hovered there, close enough that you could smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, unreadable for half a second.

“Then,” he said, voice lower now, “just flick your hair over your shoulder when you laugh. It’ll drive him crazy. Trust me.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”

Jake stepped back, giving a short, almost nervous laugh. “Alright. Let’s have a test run. Show me the flick. Let’s see if you’re ready.”

You blinked. “Now?”

“Yes now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Flip your hair. Then bat your eyelashes. Slowly.”

You gave him a long look. Then, trying to copy the motion, you awkwardly tossed your hair over your shoulder and blinked up at him, slightly exaggerated and incredibly mechanical.

Jake choked on his own breath.

You gasped and smacked his arm. “Don’t be a fucking prick!”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he protested before bursting into laughter.

“You didn't have to!”

“It's not my fault you looked insane!”

“You told me to flip my hair and bat my lashes!”

“Yeah, I told you to do it normally. I didn’t tell you to give me crazy eyes.”

You crossed your arms, shoulders slumping. “I can’t do this. This is stupid.”

“Yes, you can,” Jake said firmly. “Now look at me. Try it again.”

You sighed, took a breath then did it.

Your fingers swept through your hair, flicking it over your shoulder in one fluid motion. You glanced up at him, wide-eyed, lashes fluttering with just enough hesitation to make it feel real. Your lips parted slightly, soft with a natural pout. And the soft blush on your cheeks—God. It made you look so much cuter than he was prepared for.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He didn't move. Didn't say a single thing.

Because somehow, in the middle of this dumb pretend flirting lesson, you’d accidentally knocked the wind out of him.

And you had no idea.

His mouth opened slightly but nothing came out. His heart stammered in his chest like it forgot how to beat properly. Fuck. You looked good doing whatever the hell that was.

Then you sighed. “Ugh. I looked ridiculous again, didn’t I? God, I’m such a mess—”

“No!” he blurted out, way too loud, making both of you jump. “You looked… fine. I think you’re ready.”

His voice cracked at the end. He turned his head like it would somehow hide it.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything.

“But… what do I even say to him?” you asked, your voice softer now, uncertain.

Jake cleared his throat, grounding himself. Right. This lesson wasn’t for him. It was for you. For Jongseong.

“Keep it simple,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep them steady. “Ask what he’s drinking. Compliment his shirt. Make eye contact. Smile. Then ask for his number.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Guys don’t need a Shakespearean monologue,” he added with a dry chuckle. “Just give them a reason to look twice.”

You took a deep breath and repeated to yourself, “Okay… I can do this. I can do this.”

Jake grinned, tossing back the rest of his drink like it was a toast. “You can. Knock ’em dead.”

You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans again. Useless. Your hands were still clammy, and your heart felt like it was sprinting laps in your chest.

You glared at him. “If I embarrass myself, I’m blaming you.”

“Can’t embarrass what’s already rock bottom,” he grinned.

You flipped him off but your legs still carried you across the café. You passed the actually cute guy Jake had vetoed and kept walking until you reached the guy Jake had actually pointed out.

He was okay. Not ugly, but his hair was gelled too flat, and his shirt had some ironic graphic that made you wince. He was tapping loudly on his phone, chewing gum. Still, he had decent shoulders. That was something.

You cleared your throat. “Hey.”

He looked up, blinked once like he was trying to figure out if he knew you,. “Hey.”

You gestured to his drink. “Is that the cold brew? I was gonna get one, but I panicked and got a hot chocolate instead.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Cold brew’s not bad. Keeps me awake for my 8ams, y’know?”

You forced a smile. “I’m the same way! I'm a totally different person without my morning coffee.”

He laughed. Good. Good. Great! Until it wasn't.

You flicked your hair back like Jake told you to, trying to make it look natural. It didn’t.

"What are you...doing?"

You immediately stopped, dropping your hands to your sides. Straightening up.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you added with what you thought was a flirty smile, “I love your elbows! They’re so…uh…pointy.”

The guy blinked. “Sorry—what?”

You laughed before panicking a little, “Like if you were ever robbed, you could probably stab the robber with your elbow.”

He was staring now, straw paused at his lips. “Uh–thanks?”

“Anyway!” you blurted. “I should—uh—my friend’s waiting. Bye.”

You turned and speed-walked back to your table. The moment you reached Jake, you crash-landed into the booth, practically throwing yourself onto his chest to hide your face.

Jake raised an eyebrow, then completely lost it, laughter spilling out before he gently pulled you closer, one hand sliding into your hair, the other resting lightly between your shoulder blades.

“Sim Jaeyun, I will kill you.” You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

He didn’t flinch. Just chuckled and eased you right back into him, his hand still idly moving through your hair. You could feel his laugh rumble beneath your cheek.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t follow one simple instruction,” he wheezed, voice light. “Flick hair. Speak words. That’s it.”

“He was clearly not interested,” you muttered, sitting up and crossing your arms.

Jake shrugged, finally catching his breath. “Then he probably doesn’t have good taste.”

You paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at you, blinking. “I mean—come on. You’re a total ten. And he’s like… a five. At best.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did you just… call me a ten?”

“Y–yeah,” Jake said quickly, already regretting it. “On the insane scale.” He winced slightly, like even he knew that didn’t make any real sense.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, “Can’t I just talk to the cute guy?”

Jake let out a sharp laugh, drumming his fingers against his cup. “You couldn’t even string a sentence together for that guy, and now you wanna shoot your shot with the hot one?”

You leaned back against the booth with a dramatic sigh, one arm flung across the backrest. “If I’m gonna die of embarrassment, I’d rather die pretty.”

Jake snorted. “You’re gonna die delusional.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing with playful challenge. “Okay, then how about I practice on you?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I can’t practice on a hot guy. Too risky. And I already humiliated myself in front of the other one. So now I’m left with you.” You shrugged, like it was the most logical conclusion in the world. “Let me just see how it feels to flirt with someone I’m already comfortable with.”

Jake blinked again, visibly thrown. “And you think I’m the guy for that?”

“Yes,” you said, matter-of-factly. “Just treat me like one of those girls you’re always trying to impress.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You pouted, lips pulling into a dramatic curve. “Am I not your type?”

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“Then what is it?” you challenged. “Why can’t I just practice on you?”

“Fine! Fine—just shut up for a second.” His voice was low, tight before covering your mouth with his palm to shut you up. “Or… we could get Sunghoon to help.”

You froze, eyes narrowing against his palm.

“Fungfoon?” you repeated through his hand.

He removed it slowly.

“You mean that trash ass frat boy who can’t shut up for more than thirty seconds?”

Jake narrowed his eyes right back. “Sunghoon’s my best friend.”

“I don’t care?”

Not even ten minutes later, Sunghoon strolled into the café, hoodie sleeves half-rolled, a lollipop tucked between his lips. You gave him a slow side-eye as he approached your table.

It wasn’t that you hated Sunghoon. But the two of you bickered like a divorced couple whenever you were together. Maybe it was your clashing playstyles when you gamed together, he was a reckless, charge-in-without-a-plan kind of guy, and you were more methodical, strategic. Or maybe it was just the fact that if Jake wasn’t hanging out with him, he was with you and well, Sunghoon could be… territorial.

He dropped into the seat beside Jake, legs wide, completely unbothered. “Alright. What is this even about? Why am I here to help the Devil herself?”

“Reason isn’t important but,” Jake muttered, not even looking up from his drink. “We just need you to pretend you’re some guy she’s trying to flirt with.”

Sunghoon pulled the lollipop from his mouth, brows raised. “Ew. Why would I flirt with her?”

You scoffed. “Don’t be flattered. You were my last choice.”

He grinned. “Still made the cut though.”

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, straightening your posture. Okay. Practice round. You could do this.

You turned to face him, smile soft, lashes lowered just a little. “Hey,” you said, voice dipped slightly lower. “You look kinda familiar…”

Sunghoon smirked, playing along, finally meeting your eyes after ignoring you the whole minute he arrived. “Oh yeah? From where?”

You flicked your hair back, just like Jake told you to, letting it fall behind your shoulder.

And that’s when it happened.

Sunghoon blinked. His entire body paused for a beat like his brain lagged for half a second before catching up. He stared at you, eyes trailing from your mouth to your collarbone, then back up again.

There was a few seconds of silence before...

“Dude,” Sunghoon muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you again. “Did you do something to your hair? You look really good today.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, leaning in a little, arms folded casually on the table. His tone wasn’t exactly flirty, more like intrigued. “You look different. In a good way.”

Your brain went completely silent.

Not because it was flattering. But because it was Sunghoon.

“Are you calling me—”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m calling you pretty. I can’t believe I’m saying it either.”

You gawked at him. Mouth slightly open. Sunghoon looked at you like he was analysing a glitch in the matrix, brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face.

“Ew,” you said automatically, scrunching your nose. “I can’t believe you’d call me—wait. Hold on. I am?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, almost like he was confirming it for himself. “Totally. You’re just, like, glowing or whatever.”

“Well…” You sat up straighter. “I put on mascara. And some lip gloss.”

He was seeing you as a girl. Like...a girl girl. Not Jake’s best friend. Not the rando he was forced to game with when the squad was short one player.

You straightened slowly, crossing one leg over the other with a little more sway than necessary, letting your hair fall over one shoulder like a curtain. You tilted your head, gaze playful. “Well… maybe you’re just slow at noticing things.”

Sunghoon’s grin curled, his eyes dipped, lingering, and his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. “Or maybe you’ve been hiding that pretty face on purpose.”

You leaned in, elbows resting on the table, chin propped on your hand as your voice dropped to a murmur. “Or maybe you just never looked close enough.”

That did it. Sunghoon's posture straightened almost reflexively, and for half a second, he was visibly flustered, eyes flicking down again before darting back up to meet yours.

Across the table, Jake cleared his throat.

You didn’t even turn to look at him.

Jake slammed his hand on the table, not hard, but enough to rattle your water glass. “Alright. Lesson’s over.”

Sunghoon blinked. “What—why?”

Jake stood up, his jaw tight. “We’re done. Congrats. She flirts well. You’re dismissed.”

Sunghoon raised both brows. “I just got here.”

“You’re just back up, Hoon. She’s not actually trying to date you, dumbass.”

“But we so totally could though.” Sunghoon looked back at you, winking.

“Okay, we’re done here.” Jake stood up suddenly and grabbed Sunghoon by the arm. “Let’s go. Your turn’s over.”

“Chill,” Sunghoon said, laughing. “You jealous or something?”

Jake didn’t answer. Just pushed the door open and muttered, “Thanks for your service. You helped a ton.”

—

Yes. Okay, fine. Yes! Jake liked you.

He hated admitting it. Hated even thinking it.

But he did. He liked you.

The only person who knew? His mom. Or maybe Layla, his dog—if she actually understood English.

He’d liked you since the day you stood in his backyard, dressed in black, playing Auld Lang Syne on the recorder for his dead turtle. RIP Sheldon. You’re still missed.

But Jake was an idiot. As most boys are.

Somewhere along the way, his dumb boy brain decided the only logical way to get your attention was through relentless teasing and it stuck. It became a habit. Your thing.

Because, obviously, nothing says I like you like public humiliation.

Jake liked you with your hair up in that lazy bun you always wore. He liked you with it down, falling in soft, messy waves around your shoulders. He liked you when you were yelling profanities into your headset, and he liked you when you were quiet in your room, curled up with your knees to your chest, scribbling in that little diary you thought no one knew about.

He liked you when you were laughing so hard you snorted. And he liked you when you were trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

He never really understood why you wanted to change.

To him, you were already enough. You weren’t “boyish.” You weren’t “too girly.” You were just you. And to Jake, you had always been the point.

What mattered wasn’t how you looked. What mattered was that you were there.

So when he found out you liked Jongseong, he couldn’t even breathe for a second. It felt like ten million trains had flattened him right where he stood. But when he realised you didn’t just like him you were willing to change for him?

That broke something deep.

Because it meant you liked Jongseong enough to become someone else.

And Jake… Jake never wanted that.

But he had pride. Stupid, gnawing, heavy pride. And what made it worse, what buried the knife deeper, was knowing you’d never look at him that way.

Not the way you looked at Jongseong.

Not the way he looked at you.

Jake remembered one of his most recent so-called flings if you could even call them that.

To you, he was the local fuckboy. The guy who always had someone new to flirt with. You’d rolled your eyes every time he winked at someone, and he’d leaned into the reputation like it was armor.

But the truth was far messier.

Because somehow, the girls he messed around with… they always ended up knowing about you.

The last one, her name was Hyejin or maybe Hyerim, he couldn’t remember anymore, she ended up sitting next to him in her tiny apartment while he nursed a soda he didn’t want and tried not to cry.

“I just don’t get it,” he’d admitted, voice cracking a little. “I don’t know how to tell her I like her. And it’d be weird, right? If I suddenly just… said it?”

She’d looked at him, mascara slightly smudged from a long day, and tilted her head with a sigh. “Jake, you just have to be honest.”

He laughed at the time. “I can’t even be honest with myself.”

Jake swore there was nothing more humiliating than crying in front of a girl who he’d once tried to flirt with, only to have her comfort him about another girl entirely.

Worse than that?

She hugged him. Gave him her leftover tiramisu. And said, “I think she already knows. She just doesn’t know that you know.”

Jake sighed and leaned his forearm against the windowsill, the cool wood pressing into his skin as he looked across the short distance between your rooms. Your window was open again, curtains pulled halfway back.

You were lying on your stomach, half-buried in pillows, legs bent at the knees and swinging lazily in the air. Your phone was cradled in both hands, and every few seconds your shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Jake told himself he wasn’t watching. Just glancing.

He liked when your curtains were open. Not because he was trying to spy. It was more like… habit. You were always there, in that same spot, doing something normal and unbothered. Sometimes reading. Sometimes chewing on your pen while you worked. Sometimes yelling at your screen when your game crashed. He liked those quiet glimpses, the small, domestic pieces of you when you thought no one was watching.

From across the window, he could hear your soft giggle through the open night air.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he called out from his side of the room, voice echoing slightly against the concrete walls outside.

You turned your head, chin resting on your wrist. “It’s just... nothing.” Your lips curled again as you looked back at your screen.

Jake smiled, just a little, then pushed off the sill and crossed the room. His headset was still hanging from the corner of his chair. He grabbed it, sank down into the seat, and slid it over his ears.

“Hey, I’m back,” he muttered into the mic.

There was a short pause. “Hold on,” came Sunghoon’s voice. “I’m in the middle of something.”

Jake reached for his mouse, nodding to himself. “Kay.”

And then he heard it.

A soft, unmistakable ding echoed faintly from the room across the way. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch you laughing again. Your fingers moved quickly over your phone screen.

“Okay, I’m back,” Sunghoon said a few seconds later. He sounded amused.

Jake narrowed his eyes.

Another burst of laughter from your room. Another ding from Sunghoon’s mic. Then more quiet typing from your end. Another ping. Another laugh from Sunghoon.

Jake blinked at the screen in front of him. His hand was still resting on his mouse, unmoving.

Then he looked back out the window.

You were biting your bottom lip now, trying to suppress another laugh as you stared at your phone. Your shoulders were trembling again. You kicked your feet once, as if you couldn’t contain the energy anymore.

Sunghoon chuckled again in Jake’s ear.

The realization settled in slowly.

You were texting.

And not just texting anyone.

You were texting Sunghoon.

Jake leaned back in his chair, headset still snug over his ears, eyes locked on the warm glow pouring from your bedroom window. A breeze moved through the gap, rustling your curtain just enough for him to see your face again. You were smiling at your phone, soft and lit up in a way that made something in his chest tighten.

His grip on the mouse went slack.

“Are you texting her?” he asked, voice flat, low.

There was a pause on the other end of the mic.

“What? Who?” Sunghoon replied, feigning clueless.

Jake narrowed his eyes, staring now, not at his screen, but out the window, straight at you as your fingers danced over your phone screen. Another muffled laugh echoed through your open window.

“I can hear the two of you giggling like idiots,” Jake said.

Sunghoon let out a short laugh, not bothering to deny it. “Dude, what’s the matter with you? I can’t text her now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sunghoon replied. “You’ve been weird since the café. She looked cute today. I’m trying to shoot my shot.”

Jake sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “On my friend?”

There was a pause.

“Relax,” Sunghoon said, tone still light. “We’re just talking. Harmless flirting. Nothing disastrous. She knows me. She knows how I am.”

Jake didn’t answer.

His eyes drifted back to the window. You were still there, head bowed over your phone, smiling again at something that didn’t come from him.

“Whatever, man. I gotta go,” Jake muttered.

“What? We haven’t even played—”

“I forgot I had some homework to do.”

Before Sunghoon could reply, Jake clicked off. The headset hit the desk with a dull thud.

He stood quickly, crossed the room in a few long strides, yanked open his window, and grabbed the nearest thing on his desk…a ping pong ball. The very ping pong ball you threw at his head.

He tossed it with perfect aim.

It bounced cleanly off your forehead.

“OW—what the hell!” you yelped, looking up in disbelief, hand flying to your temple.

Jake leaned halfway out the window, one brow raised. “So now we know how that feels.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What was that for?”

“Stop texting Sunghoon.”

You sat up straighter. “What? Why? And how did you even know—”

“I could hear the gross, synchronized giggling. Cut it out.”

You crossed your arms, scowling. “You’re the one who told me I needed more confidence.”

“And you chose him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on. It’s not like he’d get hurt. I know how he is. He knows it’s just practice.”

Jake shook his head. “No. Not Sunghoon.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You were literally the one who told me to practice on him.”

“I take it back.”

“What?! We were finally getting into good banter and shit. Why are you—”

“You either stop texting him,” Jake said, voice dropping lower, “or I tell Jongseong your stupid secret.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?! Why would you—what does that even have to do with anything?!”

Jake didn’t answer.

But his grip on the windowsill had tightened, knuckles pale under the streetlight glow, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second.

“JUST STOP TEXTING HIM!”

–

The next day at school, Jake dragged himself through the crowded hallway, feet scuffing against the linoleum. His eyes were heavy with sleep he never got. Every time he closed them the night before, his brain had decided to play out an imaginary scenario where you and Sunghoon were holding hands in the cafeteria or kissing in front of the gym lockers.

It was enough to make him gag. If that ever actually happened, he was pretty sure he’d launch himself off the nearest cliff without hesitation.

He adjusted the strap of his backpack and yawned, turning the corner...

A hand tugged on his arm.

He blinked, looked down, and there you were. Standing in front of him with your brows knit together, that expression you always wore when you were trying to pretend you weren’t nervous.

“Bun?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

You let out a breath. “Look… I’m sorry for not telling you I texted Sunghoon yesterday.”

Jake shook his head. “I wasn’t mad because you didn’t tell me.”

“Then why were you—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut in, voice low. He glanced down at his shoes.

You tilted your head. “Didn’t seem like nothing. You were yelling, dry heaving, and threw a ping pong ball at my head.”

Jake gave a short scoff. “You threw one at me last week, so I don’t see why we’re keeping score.”

You smiled. “Touché.”

There was a moment of quiet between you, the hallway noise fading under the weight of whatever you were about to say. You rocked on your heels.

“So…” you started. “Promise you’re not gonna get mad at me?”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“Just—promise.”

Jake exhaled. “Fine. What?”

You hesitated for only a second. “Sunghoon asked me out.”

Jake stopped walking.

For a moment, it felt like the hallway went silent around him, like the crowd and noise and lockers all blurred into nothing. He couldn’t feel the weight of his bag anymore. Couldn’t hear the scrape of sneakers or the slam of doors down the corridor.

And then one very clear thought.

He was going to kill Park Sunghoon.

“I said no.”

His head snapped toward you. “Wait—what?”

You shrugged, casual, like you hadn’t just pulled him out of the depths of hell. “I said no.”

A slow smile crawled its way onto his face before he could stop it. Then another feeling hit, bright and stupid and way too much for a school hallway. He wanted to do a triple backflip. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you right there between rows of lockers. He wanted to sing something obnoxious and dramatic and completely out of character. Maybe dance in the rain.

“Why would I?” you said, nudging his arm, eyes still fixed ahead. “Jongseong’s the end game.”

And just like that, Jake wanted to go back to murdering.

“Of course, he is,” he said with a hollow laugh. He nodded, then mockingly clapped his hands together once, sharp and sarcastic. His smile dropped almost instantly, and he turned his face away before you could see the frown taking over.

He felt like biting his own arm off.

Then he looked back at you. “Right. I forgot this was all for that… Jay guy.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “Well… to be honest, I don’t really know him. But he seems sweet. From the times we’ve talked. And the group project. He’s… nice.”

Jake hated how gently you said it.

And the worst part? Jay was sweet. He was the kind of guy who held doors open without being weird about it. The kind who sent the group notes without being asked. He always smiled. Always remembered birthdays. He was, objectively, everything a girl like you deserved.

Jake knew that.

But he didn’t want to admit it.

Because you were his. At least in the world that existed in his head. You were his gamer buddy. His childhood friend. You weren’t supposed to look at other guys like that. God, he wanted you to look at him like that.

He clenched his fists inside his hoodie pocket.

He wanted to stomp his feet like a toddler and let out a big, ugly cry.

But unfortunately, that was not considered appropriate school behavior.

You didn’t notice the way he looked at you. Or maybe you did, and you just didn’t want to deal with it. Either way, you were still rambling.

“I dunno. I mean… I guess I just wanna see where it could go if he ever, like, noticed me or something.” You scratched your neck, glancing at the floor. “Not that he would. He’s… Jongseong.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

You sighed. “I’m probably just kidding myself. I’m not really the type guys go for, you know?”

“You ever think maybe it’s not you?” He looked at you. “Maybe they’re just dumb.”

Something about the way he said it stuck.

Jake glanced away before walking toward his locker.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you didn’t say anything.

But hours later, long after the hallway cleared out, after you were alone in your room, that sentence would come back again and again.

“Maybe they’re just dumb.”

And maybe Jake Sim wasn’t dumb.

But why would he ever see you that way?

You were the girl who screamed into her headset. Who wore the same hoodie three days in a row. Who got mistaken for a guy in Discord chats more often than not.

You shook your head and turned back to your phone, forcing yourself to scroll. Still, that voice stayed in the back of your mind.

And the way he looked at you when he said it.

–

It was time for lesson number two. You were back in the corner booth, your half-melted drink leaving a wet ring on the napkin beneath it. Jake sat across from you, lounging like he owned the place. One arm stretched over the back of the seat, his iced latte in the other, rings of condensation slipping down the sides of the cup.

He was watching you. That look again. The one that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or genuinely disappointed in you.

"This is the third guy that you’ve chickened out on. You’re not going to get better if you keep coming back after saying a simple hi," he said, nodding toward some guy seated near the counter. "Go talk to him. For real, this time."

You frowned. "I can’t. I freeze up and start to sweat."

Jake sighed and set his drink down. "Fine. Do it on me then."

You blinked. "What?"

"Practice. On me," he repeated, now leaning forward, his arms resting on the table. "Pretend I’m some guy you want to impress."

You stared at him. "You’re serious?"

"And you're stalling."

You turned your body toward him with a quiet sigh. "Okay. Fine."

"Go ahead," Jake said, his voice lower now, patient. He watched you with an unreadable look, the corner of his mouth still curved.

You tried. You really did.

Jake raised an eyebrow, pretending to be charmed. “Wow. Off to a strong start.”

You scowled. “Shut up, I’m trying.”

He smiled wider, amused. “No, no. Please. Continue. This is wildly entertaining.”

You gestured at his chest. “It looks… soft?”

Jake blinked, then burst into laughter. “Soft?”

“I meant—like. The material? It looks comfortable. On you.” You cringed. “Forget it.”

Jake leaned in, voice smooth like honey. “You want to touch it? That what you're trying to say, sweetheart?”

You made a strangled noise. “That’s not—”

He gently reached forward, fixing the way your fingers fidgeted with your sleeve.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake was already moving. He shifted closer on the bench, slow and smooth, until his knee touched yours under the table. One hand reached out and found your waist. His fingers slid just beneath the hem of your shirt, warm and steady.

"Also, a tip, if you will, from your ever so generous teacher, this," he said, "is the kind of touch that makes someone lean in."

His thumb brushed lightly against your side. His hand didn’t move much, but it didn’t need to. It rested there like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he was measuring your reaction.

And he was close now. Too close. You could see the way his lashes curled slightly at the tips. You could smell the quiet scent of his cologne, something clean and a little sharp, like cedar and mint. It wrapped around you in a way that made the entire café blur.

Your heartbeat quickened.

You hated that it did.

You laughed, a little too fast, wondering why your heart was feeling a certain way. "Okay. Great. Lesson learned. Thank you, Mr. Sim. I mean—Jae. Jake. Jaeyun. Jake."

Jake smirked and leaned back, finally letting his hand fall away. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, laughing.

It really did.

How devoid of men were you, seriously?

It had to be that. The fact that you’d been so completely off the radar of all male existence for the past… forever. That had to be the reason your heart skipped when he tucked your hair back. Or the reason your brain short-circuited when he looked at you a little too long.

It definitely wasn’t because you saw Jake that way.

Right?

—

Jake spotted the two of you from halfway across the hallway.

You were leaning against the row of lockers outside the atrium, one leg slightly bent, head tipped back as you laughed. Sunghoon stood in front of you, arms crossed but posture relaxed, that stupid smirk already creeping onto his face.

Jake knew that smile. It was the one Sunghoon always used when he was trying to be smooth. The kind of half-smile he used when he was talking to a girl he wanted to take out or maybe just get a reaction from. He looked confident.

You giggled again and nudged Sunghoon’s arm, your fingers brushing lightly against his jacket sleeve. Jake’s stomach turned. That move. The casual touch. The lean-in. All of it. You were doing exactly what he taught you. The timing, the tone, the touch.

He felt heat rising in his chest, tension winding up his spine like someone had pulled a cord tight. His hands curled into fists inside his hoodie pockets.

He walked straight up to them.

“Hey,” Jake said, voice low but even.

You turned to him immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hey,” you said, beaming like nothing was wrong. Like your heart hadn’t just flipped for someone else. You had no idea how you looked right then.

“Can I talk to Hoon alone for a second?”

You glanced between them and nodded. “Sure. I need to pee anyway,” you said, swinging your bag over your shoulder before heading off down the hallway.

Jake watched you disappear, then turned to Sunghoon.

“Walk.”

He grabbed his friend by the sleeve and pulled him along. Past the lockers. Past the noisy vending machines. Past the drama kids yelling in the corridor. He didn’t stop until they were behind the stairwell, tucked into the shadowy corner where the lights flickered overhead.

He looked at Sunghoon, really looked. “I need you to stop flirting with her.”

Sunghoon blinked like he didn’t hear him right. “What?”

Jake squared his shoulders. “I need you to stop. Whatever it is you’re doing. The flirting. The teasing. All of it.”

“What? Why?” Sunghoon asked, brows furrowing. “We’re just talking. She’s fun.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “She’s not just some girl to mess with. She’s not like the others. She’s my friend.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Didn’t you say last month she was like a pet chihuahua?”

Jake faltered for a second. “That was before,” he said quickly.

“I know you, Sunghoon. I know how you are with girls. You don’t mean to hurt them, but you do. You get bored. You move on. And I can’t watch that happen to her.”

Sunghoon gave a half-laugh, but it was dry. “Dude. Relax.”

“I won’t relax,” Jake snapped. His voice was sharp enough to echo faintly off the concrete. “Not about this. Not about her.”

Sunghoon finally went quiet. He studied Jake’s face, expression shifting from surprise to something slower. More serious.

“Why are you this worked up?” he asked.

“You’re my best friend,” Jake added, voice quieter now. “You know I love you, but I can’t do this if it means watching you screw around with someone who means this much to me.”

Then…something clicked.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, just a little.

“Wait,” he said. “Do you actually like her?”

“Just. Please,” Jake said. “Don’t say it.”

—

You didn’t expect him to notice. Not really.

You’d just started wearing your hair a little differently. Put on some gloss.

So when Jongseong stopped you outside school, hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes holding that familiar mix of shyness and charm, your heart should’ve jumped.

But it didn’t.

“I was wondering if you wanted to maybe get coffee sometime? Just us?”

You blinked. And blinked again.

This was supposed to be it. The goal. The moment. The reason you spent hours flicking your hair over your shoulder like an idiot while Jake made fun of you.

But all you could think about was… Jake. Sim Fucking Jaeyun.

“I…” You looked up at Jongseong. Kind eyes. Good guy. Someone you used to swear you wanted. “I really appreciate it, Jongseong. I do. But… I think I’m going to pass.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. Then he nodded slowly. “No worries. Thanks for being honest.”

You gave him one more grateful smile and watched as he walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

And then you stood there.

Why the fuck am I thinking about Jake right now?

It was Wednesday. You’d just spent the last three hours at the academy doing absolutely nothing productive unless you counted emotionally spiralling in the corner seat while pretending to highlight your notes.

All you could think about was how it would’ve felt if Jake had been the one to ask you out.

Would you have said yes?

Would you have kissed him right there?

Would you have blacked out and screamed in his face?

You had fallen for Jake.

Oh fuck.

You groaned into your hands and started walking home, trying to mentally scrub the thoughts from your brain. But just as you passed under the flickering streetlamp by the park…

“BUN!”

You screamed.

Jake doubled over laughing behind you. “What the—?!”

You spun around, nearly flinging your textbook at him. “JAKE WHAT THE HELL!”

He was wheezing. “You scream like that for me? You’re dramatic as hell.”

You clutched your chest, heart going a million beats per second, not just from the scare.

Jake walked over casually, reaching for your textbook. “Give me that, your bag’s wide open—”

“DON’T TOUCH IT!”

You screamed again, stumbling back like he was radioactive.

Jake screamed back, instinctively jumping a full step away. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” you yelled, then immediately spun on your heel. “I HAVE—A LOT OF HOMEWORK!”

“What—?”

But you were already speed-walking away, hair flying behind you as you left Jake stunned in the middle of the path.

By the time you slammed your front door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, you were in full mid-life crisis mode. Rolling back and forth, groaning into your pillow, muttering, “It’s Jake. Oh my god it’s Jake. I like JAKE.”

You were still flailing when you heard a voice.

“You call this homework?”

You froze.

Your head shot toward your window.

There he was. Jake. Standing in his room, staring at you through your open window with a raised brow.

Fuck. You forgot to close it.

You cleared your throat and sat up like a malfunctioning robot. “Gotta… prep. For homework.”

Jake squinted. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird.”

You nodded a little too fast. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…Okay.” He cleared his throat, clearly unconvinced. “Anyway. I was thinking for tomorrow’s lesson—”

“I don’t need them anymore.”

Jake paused. “Huh?”

You swallowed. “I don’t need the lessons. I’m good. I’m… fine. I don’t need to flirt. Or anything. Anymore.”

Jake stared at you from across the gap, mouth parting like he wanted to say something—but then it closed again.

“…You—”

“Jongseong asked me out today,” you blurted.

Jake went still, “Oh.”

It came out quiet. Just a hum. Then his eyes dropped to his feet. “So that’s why you don’t need the lessons anymore.”

“No!” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. “Not entirely.”

Silence fell between you, stretched across the space between your open windows. Both your hearts were racing, but for completely different reasons.

Yours…because it hit you again, hard and sharp: you had fallen for the guy who once smacked you in the face with a ping pong ball. The guy who threw pebbles at your window until you opened your window just to yell at him.

His…because you’d done it. You got Jongseong. The lessons worked. You didn’t need him anymore. You’d won.

So why did it feel like losing?

Thoughts ran rampant, words stuck in throats. The silence said too much.

“I—” you both said at once.

“You first.” Again, in unison.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you said, clearing your throat. “I said no.”

Jake blinked. “To Jay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked at you, brows furrowed. “The lessons… the whole thing… I don’t get it. Why’d you say no?”

“He asked me out. And I didn’t feel the way I thought I would. It didn’t hit. I didn’t want him to ask me out anymore.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on your face, “Are you okay?”

God. Even now. Even like this. Stupid Jake. Always worried about you.

You nodded. “I’m fine. I just… figured I wanted something else.”

Jake looked down again. “Oh.”

“I wanted…someone else.” You said, softly, looking back up at him to see his reaction.

He gulped and then cleared his throat, “Oh. I see.”

You sighed, frustrated that he wasn’t budging or showing any other emotion other than a silent nervous puppy.

You looked at him, hair messy, probably from running his hands through it. A pair of fake glasses perched above his nose, the light from his lamp casting a shadow on his already perfect face.

There was slightly disbelief in his voice, from knowing you had said no to Jongseong. A boy who’d spent probably 10 years convincing himself that you’d only ever see him as a friend–scratch that, not even a friend. Someone you’d yell at or a human punching bag. Someone to drop guns for when she had no more in game credits. Someone to finish the bag of family sized cheetos with because “it’s too much”.

Your throat tightened, you weren’t sure why but you started talking: “I…uh…I didn’t really want it to be him. I kept picturing someone else.”

“Mhm.”

“Someone who…who notices I get cold without me ever saying anything. Someone who walks me home every night. Someone who leaves pebble marks on my freakin’ window.” You said, eyes fluttering to the two tiny hairline cracks caused by Jake.

You stopped, looked up to see Jake’s reaction once again. Your heart was pounding even louder this time. All Jake was doing was staring. At you.

Then suddenly realization sunk in, you idiot.

“Nevermind, I was just…saying stuff. Forget what I said.”

“No.” He said, firmer.

He was leaning forward against the windowsill, knuckles white, “Say it. Please?”

You looked at him, taking a deep breath, gulping for another breath of air because you couldn’t breathe, “I…I wanted it to be you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment or two and you’re unsure if you actually did essentially him that you liked him.

Jake didn’t move. Stunned. Stared at you with those pearly wide eyes and then you see him inching towards his window.

“Jake? Jaeyun? Yun, what are you–”

He inched closer, climbing through his damn window.

“JAEYUN!”

He was already halfway out, one leg swung over his windowsill and another at your window.

“Our windows are like three feet apart,” He huffed, voice strained from awkwardly balancing on the narrow ledge, “I’ll survive.”

“You can just yell!”

“I’m not yelling this!”

Then he crossed the gap and then Jake Sim was in your room.

You inched backwards, on your bed. Jake stood on your floor, scratching the back of his head. His hair a mess, him, slightly breathless.

“You’re insane.”

“You were saying…” He gasped for air. “You wanted it to be me.”

You nodded, mouth dry, “Yes.”

Jake took one step forward, then he was right in front of you. His hand found his way to your cheek, lifting you up to look at him.

“I wanted it to be me too,” He whispered. “For so fucking long.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because he was standing in your room now, three feet away but somehow close enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Jake closed the rest of the gap in half a second, hands reaching for your face. His fingers brushed your jaw as he leaned in, eyes still locked on yours like he was checking, still checking, like he needed a thousand confirmations—

So you kissed him first.

You crashed your lips onto his in a heartbeat, short-circuiting whatever overthinking he was spiraling into.

And then, he melted. His hands slid to cradle your face fully, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you back.

You gripped the front of his hoodie, fisting the fabric to keep yourself steady. And when you finally pulled back, you whispered, “For the record, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jake didn’t even hesitate. He leaned in again, his smile brushing your lips before he kissed you deeper this time.

“You’re doing,” he murmured between kisses, pressing another one to the corner of your mouth…

“Really,” one more, this time near your jaw…

“Good.”

Then he pulled back just enough to grin at you. “Then again, your boyfriend’s a teacher. I could always teach you how to kiss.”

You blinked. “Boyfriend?”

Jake tilted his head, still way too close, still grinning. “You’re telling me we’re not headed in that direction right now?”

“Not if you’re being smug about it.”

“I’ve been waiting ten years for this,” he said without missing a beat, “I’m gonna be as smug as I can be.”

“Ten years?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide.

He nodded seriously. “Remember when you wore that black dress to Sheldon’s funeral?”

You squinted. “Yeah?”

“I thought you looked really pretty.”

“At your turtle’s funeral?”

Jake shrugged. “Am I crazy?”

You stared at him. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He grinned wider. “Crazy about you, though.”

Your fingers tightened on the front of his hoodie, knuckles brushing against his chest as you pulled him closer. Your noses were barely apart, your lips curving as they brushed again—

Knock knock knock.

“Sweetheart? Everything okay there? I heard… noises.”

You froze mid-breath. Jake froze too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Shit—” you hissed, panic flaring in your chest. “Closet!”

You shoved him hard toward the wooden closet door by your bookshelf, nearly tripping over your math notes and discarded socks in the process. Jake stumbled, muttering a curse, then ducked into the closet just as you reached for the doorknob.

You plastered on your most innocent smile, heart pounding as you swung the door open.

“Hi, Mom!” you chirped, voice pitched up way too high.

She raised an eyebrow, eyes drifting over your slightly messy hair and suspiciously glowing cheeks. “You okay?”

“Yep! Just watching Netflix.”

Her gaze swept past you into the room. Your bed was unmade, your pillows tossed, one of your shoes lying sideways on the rug like it had been kicked off in a hurry.

“I heard a boy’s voice.”

“Using my new speaker!”

She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Are you sure? Because if you are seeing someone…”

You tensed.

“I just hope it’s not someone else.”

Your smile faltered. “…What? What do you mean?”

“Y’know…” she said, shrugging. “If it’s not Sim’s son.”

You blinked. “Sim’s—”

“Jaeyun.”

“She told me he has a crush on you, y’know? Her boy.” Your mom gave you a look. “And to be honest, we’ve been rooting for you two since that turtle funeral.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead dramatically against the doorframe. “Oh my God.”

“It was just so cute! The way the two of you stood in the backyard, looking at each other.”

“Please stop talking.”

“We made a bet. She thinks you’ll get together right after graduation, and I said before.”

“Mum.”

“So who do you think will win? Do you need help speeding things up? I’ve got experience. Want me to tell you how I got your dad?”

“Mum. Stop.”

“Oh, fine. I’ll go,” she sighed. “Just keep the Netflix down, would you?”

As her footsteps retreated down the hall, you slammed the door shut and spun on your heel.

You yanked the closet door open.

Jake stood there, his hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, like he’d barely kept it together in there.

“Can’t believe my mom told yours,” he sighed, stepping out carefully. “It’s like secrets aren’t even secrets anymore.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she told me today,” you muttered. “Right after the whole… thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now.

“I still can’t believe our moms ship us.”

You sighed, already tugging on the front of his hoodie again. “Whatever. Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Jake grinned, stepping closer until your backs were to the door and your room was quiet again.

“Gladly,” he whispered, before leaning in once more.

—

ONE MONTH LATER

You were sprawled on the floor of your room, hoodie sleeves tugged over your palms, legs folded underneath you as you scribbled furiously into your notebook. Your knees were propped against the edge of the bed, an d your hair was half up, half giving up. Jake sat cross-legged behind you on the rug, elbows resting on his knees, watching you.

“You’re so cute when you’re concentrated,” he said, voice all soft and sing-song.

You didn’t even look up. “Yun.”

“Mmh?”

“Stop staring.”

“I can’t help it.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “My girlfriend’s too pretty.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled to yourself.

Without warning, Jake scooted closer until his knees touched your back. Then his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap like it was muscle memory. You let out a startled yelp as your notebook was abandoned somewhere across the carpet. Now you were seated between his thighs, his arms looped tightly around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck.

“I love this hoodie on you,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your skin. “You always smell like sunshine and detergent.”

“Baby, let me go. I was doing something—”

He kissed your shoulder, lips slow and warm. Then your jaw. Then the soft skin just beneath your ear. “Shhh. Let me love you for, like, five minutes.”

You squirmed. “You’re clingy.”

“I’m touch-starved.”

“You literally hugged me the entire walk back from the academy.”

Jake tightened his hold, hands splayed across your stomach now. “It’s not my fault you make me clingy.”

You finally turned to face him, arms loosely around his neck. He leaned in like gravity pulled him to you, brushing his nose against yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” Jake whispered, his fingers gently brushing along your cheekbone and down to your jaw. “I don’t think you even know what you do to me.”

You exhaled a laugh, “Jake, I was literally almost done.”

He pouted immediately. “Jake?” he repeated, like the word physically hurt him.

You looked up, confused. “What?”

“Did you just call me by my actual name?” His face twisted, mock-offended, as he clutched his chest dramatically. “No. Nope. Not allowed.”

You blinked. “Are you seriously mad because I called you Jake?”

He sat up slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah. Yes, I am. That’s what teachers call me. You? You call me baby. Or sweetheart. Or love. Or beautiful boy. I’d even take Yun. Not Jake.”

You smirked. “Jake—”

“Lalalala—” He slapped his hands over his ears and turned his head away from you. “I’m not listening

“Jake.” You grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down from his ears. “JAKE! Okay, fine! Baby?”

He immediately stopped, all sweet-eyed and smug. “Yes?” he replied, voice as soft as sugar.

“Oh my god. You’re insane.”

“Insane?” he scoffed, pulling you closer until your legs straddled his lap. His hands gripped your waist like they belonged there. “What’s insane is that you don’t fucking love me.”

You stared at him, jaw dropping. “Sim Jaeyun—”

He gasped, scandalised, throwing his head back like you’d physically wounded him. “And again with the full name. Gah! You hate me.”

You burst out laughing as he yanked you forward and buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning

“Okay, fine,” you said, playing along. “Oh, my dearest bundle of love, light of my life, tell me—how must I ever earn your forgiveness?”

He perked up instantly, lifting his head with a bright smile. “Ooh. This is fun.” He clapped once, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I want kisses.”

You snorted. “Kisses? That’s it?”

“I want one here,” he tapped his cheek.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“And here,” he tapped the other.

Then he tapped his lips. “And one here. Minimum a minute. No funny business. Though, I don’t mind if you slip in a little tongue.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous.”

Still, you leaned in, slowly, lips brushing against his. Jake’s hands slid up your back, holding you close as he kissed you back properly.

When you finally pulled away, breath mingling with his, he whispered against your mouth, “Forgiveness granted.”

You smiled, forehead pressed to his until your phone dinged.

You pulled back and glanced at the screen. “Why did Sunghoon just text me, ‘control your damn dog’?”

Jake tilted his head, expression too casual. “Oh. I think he’s referring to the text I just sent him.”

You squinted. “What text?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don't know could be the one where I told him to eat shit and get diarrhoea.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?! Why?”

“He texted you for your chem notes.”

“Jake!”

He grinned, smug and unrepentant. “Name? Again? That’s strike two, baby. One more and you’re out.”

"You're insane."

1K notes · View notes

ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

i neeeeed a part 2

MAKE YOU MINE — PJS

1: MAKE ME YOURS — You’re an Omega with rare, selective instincts, untouched by every Alpha you've ever met. That is, until you catch a scent that stops you cold and ignites a hunger you’ve never known. It leads you straight to Park Jongseong—the quiet Alpha who barely acknowledges your existence.

Now, every encounter becomes a quiet war with your own body. You try to ignore the pull, and yet, you can’t shake the fear that he might be the only Alpha your instincts will ever respond to… and the only one your heart will ever want.

content tags: a/b/o dynamics: alpha!jay, omega!reader, (ft. beta ningning, beta yeonjun) reader is kind of desparate for jay lol, spoiled bratty! reader, jay don't give a fuck, typical y/n behavior, pursuer female trope!!!, angst w/ little bit of fluff, second hand embarassment, half of the chapter is reader throwing tantrums, or talking about flower knows and nails, non-chalant jay, she yaps & he never (i guess) listen, kinda delusional reader in the first half chapter. no smut. WC:24.4K . next chapter.

⋮ ⌗ act one

OMEGAS are known for their heightened sense of smell, particularly when it comes to Alphas. Alphas naturally emit strong pheromones, which can influence and attract Omegas, triggering instinctive reactions such as comfort, submission, or arousal, depending on the situation. For most Omegas, an Alpha's scent is a sign of protection or a potential mate, something their instincts naturally respond to.

However, ever since you came out as an Omega, things haven't been that simple.

One major complication is your extreme sensitivity to an Alpha's scent, not in the way that compels submission or attraction, but in a way that it overwhelms you, making you uncomfortable. Instead of feeling reassured or drawn in, the intensity of their presence unsettles you, leaving you tense and overstimulated.

Being in a crowded space full of Alphas feels almost suffocating. While other Omegas might naturally respond by releasing their own pheromones like showing interest or submission, your body doesn't react the way it's supposed to.

You stay still, tense, untouched by the pull that seems to affect everyone else. Their scents hit you in waves that is too strong and too overwhelming, like they're pressing in from every side. But the response everyone expects from you never comes, making it clear that you're different from the rest.

"Her Omega instincts are being selective," the psychologist says, watching you for a moment before setting their clipboard aside. "It's not unusual. Some Omegas are naturally more particular when it comes to choosing a mate. Her body is reacting to Alpha pheromones, but it's filtering them out—rejecting the ones that don't match what it subconsciously sees as a good fit."

Your mother shifts in her seat, clearly uneasy. "But she's not marked or bonded. Shouldn't she be reacting to at least one of them?"

You curl in on yourself, pulling your arms close and wishing you could disappear. It's not like you asked for this!

The psychologist gives a gentle nod. "It could be a natural defense. Some Omegas are less responsive to general Alpha presence, especially when their instincts are focused on long-term compatibility rather than instant attraction. Her body might not have found a match yet. It's rare, but it happens."

Your mother grips the edge of her purse a little tighter. Her lips press into a thin line before she speaks again. "Even during her heat, nothing happens. No response to any Alpha." There's a heavier worry in her voice. "At first, I thought maybe it was nerves, but it's every time. Shouldn't she be drawn to someone? Shouldn't she... want relief?"

You shift in your seat, heat creeping up your neck. The last thing you want is to talk about your heat cycles—not here, not like this. You stare down at the floor, hands clenched tightly in your lap.

The psychologist keeps their tone calm. "Typically, yes. During heat, but in her case, that system isn't responding like it should. Or maybe it's just locked. Her instincts seem to be holding back unless a very specific set of conditions is met." They glance at you, "her biology may only allow a response when it senses something—or someone—exactly right."

You don't need an Alpha. Fuck the way society acts like every Omega should rely on one. Yeah, heat is a bitch. Your body still wants something, the pressure builds, the ache, and that craving for a knot never really goes away. But even with all of that, no Alpha's scent has ever been strong enough to push you over the edge. Not once, and that's fucking okay, you can manage anyway.

Until now.

Your nose twitches as a new scent cuts through the heavy mix of pheromones in the crowded seminar hall. It's sharp, but smooth clean citrus with a warm, woody edge. Fresh, crisp, and nothing like the thick, cloying musk that usually fills spaces like this.

You frown, sniffing the air again. "What's that smell?" Beside you, Ningning scrunches her face, giving a quick sniff before shrugging. "What smell?"

"That smell," you repeat, already stepping forward without realizing it. Your body moves on its own, drawn by the trail curling through the room.

Ningning sighs and follows, heels clicking against the polished floor. "Is it bothering you? We can leave, you know. This seminar's pointless anyway." But you barely hear her. The scent is subtle, yet it grabs hold of something inside you and refuses to let go. It doesn't choke you or press in too close. It lingers inside your brain and calling you.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Ningning yells, trying to keep up as you slip through the crowd. Inside you, the Omega stirs. There's a quiet hum under your skin, a soft purr in your chest that builds with every step.

Alpha. The word rings in your mind, and the moment you reach a clearer space in the crowd, the scent hits you full force, and it wraps around you so gently it nearly takes your breath away. Your knees almost buckle under the weight of it.

He stands just a few feet away. His raven-black hair is neatly pushed back, sharp jawline accentuated by the clean-cut angles of his face. The thin frames of his glasses rest perfectly on his nose, and the designer Prada bag slung over his shoulder adds to his air of quiet sophistication. Everything about him exudes elegance.

An unmated Alpha. Exactly what you're looking for.

You move before you can think, feet carrying you toward him. Ningning stares at you, mouth open in shock. "What the hell are you doing?!"

You don't answer, because the moment you reach him, you stop—right beside him. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to let the scent wash over you fully. He turns his head slightly, finally noticing you. His sharp eyes flicker with curiosity behind the lenses of his glasses.

You just stand there, inhaling his scent, letting it fill your lungs, your body. It's ridiculous how good he smells, It was the smell that something your Omega has been starved for.

Make him yours. The voice inside you, your Omega, purrs again.

Ningning definitely notices. Her jaw nearly hits the floor as your eyes follow the Alpha when he quietly slips out of the room. You're practically floating in his scent trail, still dazed. "What the hell was that?" She hisses, grabbing your arm as soon as he disappears through the door. "Don't ever approach someone like that again. He's going to think you're weird!"

You blink, only half-hearing her. The moment plays over in your mind again and again.

You find out his name sooner than expected—Park Jongseong, a Media Communication major. As fate would have it, the universe seems to be working in your favor. He's in several of your classes. Every time he enters the room, your Omega perks up. A soft purr thrums in your chest before you can stop it.

Ningning always throws you a look and mutters under her breath, "Seriously? Again?"

Your eyes always follow him automatically—across the room, down the hallway, when he leans over his desk or pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Every move he makes, no matter how small, draws you in.

He doesn't talk much. He always sits near the windows, notebook open, pen in hand, brows slightly furrowed as he listens.

Make him yours.

"Help me get his attention," you whisper, leaning into Ningning as Jay starts packing up after the lecture. He's calm and quiet as always, sliding his notebook into his bag, adjusting the sleeves of his black knit sweater.

Ningning's eyebrows shoot up. Her lip gloss wand freezes midair. "What?"

"Come on, quick!" you hiss, already digging through your bag for your perfume. She groans but moves fast. You tilt your head forward as she fixes your hair, brushing a few flyaways and smoothing it down. Meanwhile, you spritz a little perfume on your neck and wrists, just enough to mix with your natural scent. Ningning grabs her lip gloss and dabs a bit on your lips, then hands you your compact mirror.

"Go," she whispers, giving your clothes a quick once-over and adjusting your collar. You nod, your heart racing as you stand and gather your things, trying to keep your hands from trembling. Ningning follows close behind, fixing your shirt and muttering encouragement under her breath.

You spot him just ahead, stepping through the lecture hall door. This is it. You cough a few times, trying to steady your breath, then pick up your pace, weaving through the crowd. Your eyes are locked on him, he's almost at the stairs when you catch up and accidentally bump right into him.

"S-sorry," you stammer, your things slipping from your arms and scattering across the floor.

He pauses, then crouches down, picking up your notebook without a word. His expression doesn't change, but the moment he moves closer, his scent washes over you again. That warm, clean blend of citrus and wood that makes your body melt. Your Omega reacts instantly, purring loud and eager beneath your skin. You feel your own pheromones release in response, filling the space around you with a subtle sweetness.

Jay's hand freezes as he reaches for your lip gloss, his shoulders stiffen. The flicker of awareness in his eyes as the scent hits him.

But just like that, he composes himself. He stands slowly, and hands you your things. "Here," he says politely. Then, without another glance, he turns and walks away. Leaving you standing there in the middle of the hallway, dazed and breathless, your Omega still humming with need.

"Bitch?!" Ningning hisses, snapping you out of your trance as she rushes to your side. "You should've said something! Asked his name, complimented his glasses, anything!" You blink, still watching Jay's back as he disappears around the corner. "I couldn't," you murmur. "My brain just... stopped working."

Ningning groans, dragging a hand down her face. "And why—why—did you release pheromones? At least try to be subtle!" Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Ningning was already pulling you aside so no one else overhears. "Some Alphas hate that kind of attention, especially if it's not from someone they've claimed. You have to ease into it, be patient. Make him curious."

You nod slowly, maybe she's right. Maybe pouncing on him with scent and nerves wasn't the best move. Not everyone responds well to sudden heat, especially not when it's from a stranger. You need a new plan. Something that keeps you close enough to be noticed without pushing too hard.

The second time you try is days later, at the vending machine. You spot him across the hallway, standing in front of the glowing machine, casually scanning the snack options. His hair is slightly tousled today, glasses still perched perfectly on his nose, and his black hoodie is unzipped just enough to show the white shirt underneath.

You breathe in slowly and check yourself in the glass reflection nearby—hair smooth, lips glossed, scent neutral but fresh. Ningning had prepped you, hand landing firmly on your shoulder.

"Act casual. Go for something at the vending machine next to him. Drop something, but not your lip gloss again. That's obvious. And for god's sake, don't purr. Just smile. Like a normal person."

And you are walking over at a steady pace, fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You stop beside him, not too close, pretending to examine the chocolate-covered almonds . He doesn't glance your way, but you can feel his quiet presence because it carries a weight of calmness that makes the air around you feel thick.

You reach out to make a selection but "accidentally" drop your coins. They roll, clinking softly before stopping near his shoe. He looks down, then turns his head toward you. You offer a small, sheepish smile. "Sorry... I'm not usually that clumsy."

He bends down, picks up the coins, and holds them out. "Here." And with just one word, but his voice settles deep in your chest.

"Thanks," you reply quietly, reaching out. Your fingers brush against his, and the lightest spark tingles across your skin. You exhale a little too softly, trying not to seem too obvious. Your foot taps once against the floor as the silence stretches, your Omega waiting beneath your skin.

Say something. Anything! Your eyes flick to the snack in his hand, and you grasp for words. "Uh... the almonds are kind of hard to bite," you say, gesturing vaguely to the machine. "Like, weirdly crunchy."

He glances at the pack, then back at you. "That's how I like it," he says simply.

You nod, a little too fast, tapping your foot as the silence stretches. Your mind races for a way to keep it going. "Well, you should try the cookies," you say, voice a little shaky as you slip a coin into the machine. "They're actually pretty good."

"Thanks, but I'm not really into that," Jay replies, his tone flat but not unkind.

You glance at him, searching for interest, or a flicker of attention but there's nothing. His expression stays unreadable, his eyes already drifting elsewhere. No spark, no tension, no sign that he feels even a hint of what you do. And just like that, something inside you stirs. A bitter, involuntary scent slips out, sharp enough that you feel it hit the air.

"U-Uh..." you murmur, fumbling to grab the cookie pack from the tray. Jay pauses for the briefest second, but he doesn't look back. He just turns and walks away, completely untouched by the moment you thought might lead to something.

You're left standing there, snack in hand, heart sinking fast. Your Omega retreats into silence, humiliated, like even it knows the moment was a failure.

Ningning appears beside you in an instant, throwing her arms around your shoulder. "I messed it up again," you mumble, voice caught in your throat, the sting rising faster.

"No," she says firmly, refusing to let you spiral. "Some Alphas take time. We just need more interaction, that's all." She waves her hands as if drawing a map in the air. "We'll plan it out better."

You nod quickly, already thinking through new ideas, anything to close the distance between you and him.

PARK JONGSEONG is the kind of Alpha people whisper about, composed, intelligent, clearly ahead of the curve in every class. You've seen how professors look at him when he speaks. You've watched how other students move aside when he passes. His scent, for you, is everything, It wraps around your Omega. So steady, clean, so grounding.

Except when he's ignoring you. Which is all the time.

And still, you try. Pathetically. Persistently. Every damn time.

You drop your student ID at the table he always takes in the library—a corner seat by the window, second floor, right after lunch. Ningning thought it was genius. You even positioned it just barely under the leg of the chair, so he'd have to notice.

You linger nearby, pretending to flip through a book on media ethics, waiting.

"Oh no—this yours?" The Student Council President, of all people, walks up, holding your ID. "You shouldn't be so careless. Do you know how much of a hassle it is to replace one of these?"

Your mouth opens and closes, cheeks heating up. "I—I just dropped it..."

"Well, don't just drop important things off in public spaces, lady. Be more mindful next time." He hands it to you with a huff and walks off.

You glance at Jay's table. He's still reading, pen tapping slowly against the side of his notebook. No reaction. Not even a glance in your direction.

Not. Even. A glance!

You think you're being fucking ridiculous at this point. Every carefully planned attempt, every "natural" interaction, every dumb little coincidence you set up—none of it works.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" Ningning says carefully, watching your expression. Your jaw tightens, fists clenching at the thought. But you shake it off fast, refusing to let that idea root.

"He doesn't smell like another Omega," you mutter, voice sharp. "You would know that. I would know that. And he's unmated."

"Woah, calm down," Ningning replies, holding up her hands. "I'm just saying... it's weird. We're on, what, attempt number five? And he's still not reacting."

You sigh, slumping against the hallway wall. "I know."

The thing is, most Alphas aren't that hard to read. They're biologically wired to notice an Omega when they're near especially one who's showing interest. A glance, a tension in the shoulders, a change in breathing. Anything.

Some Alphas are aggressive, territorial. They're the ones who scent-mark and cling too fast, too soon. Others are more careful, observant, waiting for signs of compatibility before making a move. Jay, apparently, is the third kind, the kind that doesn't react at all.

But you know he's not immune.

That first time, when you accidentally released your scent in front of him, he stiffened. You've replayed it so many times, dissected every second. He didn't look at you, didn't speak beyond handing back your things, but his body gave him away. That fleeting shift, that pause in his movement, it was something. It had to be. You've been clinging to that moment, letting it carry you through every failed attempt since. Because if you stop believing it meant something, even the smallest thing, then there's no point in trying at all.

The truth is, from the moment you caught his scent, everything inside you shifted. You knew he was the one. Your Omega didn't just react to him—it chose him. And the more time you spend near him, the more your choice solidifies. Not out of desperation or fantasy, but because of how right it feels when he's close, even if he never looks at you.

Make him yours. And you're starting to understand something you didn't at first. Subtlety had its chance. Casual conversations, timed glances, convenient run-ins—they all failed. He didn't bite.

If normal interaction isn't enough to break through that calm wall of his, then you'll have to try something else. Something bolder. Something that matches the pull your Omega feels every time he walks into a room. You're done waiting for him to notice. The plan now is to make sure he can't ignore you.

Because quiet doesn't work on someone like Jay, you need to make a little noise.

⋮ ⌗ act two

AS SOMEONE with an unusually selective sensitivity to Alpha pheromones, you grew up wrapped in a carefully constructed kind of comfort. Your parents made sure that everything you needed—emotionally, physically, and materially—was always within reach. They knew you weren't like the other Omegas your age, who seemed to handle their instincts and hormonal shifts with far less complication.

They filled in the gaps with attention and luxury, convincing themselves and maybe even you that it wasn't a weakness, just a different kind of path. You were well taken care of, and nothing you wanted ever stayed out of reach for long. Whether it was comfort during your off days, distractions from your unresponsive instincts, or a quiet place to fall apart, it was all handed to you. Soft pillows. Favorite meals. New clothes. Extra time. Anything to soothe the ache that no one could see.

But no matter how much they gave, a part of you always knew something was missing. You didn't know how to name it then, not when everything looked so perfect on the surface. You didn't lack affection, didn't go without care. Still, the emptiness sat somewhere low in your stomach, coiling tighter every time you watched another Omega respond naturally to the presence of an Alpha, while you stayed untouched.

Your heat cycles were more like drawn-out fevers than instinct-driven events. You'd lock yourself away, curled in sweat-dampened sheets with a pounding head and aching limbs, convincing everyone that it was just another sick day. You never told them that the worst part wasn't the physical discomfort but the fact that your body was asking for something it never responded to. Nothing ever triggered the right release.

Still, you didn't mind skipping classes. You used those days as excuses to disconnect from the world, as if sleep and silence could somehow fill the void. Even if your body felt broken, the rest of your life was wrapped in ease. You learned to live with the quiet, with the stillness that followed every unanswered pull.

But the moment that Alpha stepped into your world, you knew, without needing time to process it, that he was the missing piece. The emptiness you'd been taught to manage, the dullness you had accepted as normal, suddenly felt glaring and intolerable.

For so long, you had lived a life where nothing was ever denied to you. From material comfort to emotional reassurance, everything you desired had been placed easily into your hands. It created a world where you never had to fight for anything, never had to question your worth or chase after something that resisted you. But now, you wanted something—or rather, someone—who didn't come running. Someone who didn't fall at your feet or bend to your need. And that was Jay.

"Hi," you say with a soft smile, setting your things down on the table beside him. The contents of your preppy, overstuffed bag clatter slightly—pens, lip gloss, and a pack of color-coded sticky notes shifting with the weight as you place it aside. Jay looks up, raising an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your sudden appearance at his table.

"There's no seat available," you explain smoothly before he can ask. When his eyes start to flick past you, probably to check if that's actually true, you casually shift your body to block his view. He hesitates for a second, then, without a word, he leans back and reaches for the empty chair beside him, pulling it out for you before returning to the book in his hand.

Your heart gives an excited flutter, the tiniest rush of victory surging through you as you slide into the chair he offered. You sit a little straighter, pretending not to be giddy while your lips curl into a quiet, triumphant smile. You glance back over your shoulder and spot Ningning at the back row. She catches your eye, hands cupped in front of her as she silently claps and flashes you a double thumbs-up. You almost laugh.

You adjust the sleeves of your cardigan with a light tug, smooth the fabric of your skirt across your lap, and begin pulling out your things—your textbook, a rainbow of highlighters, and your favorite fine-tip pens, all laid out in perfect order. As the professor enters and begins to arrange their notes, the murmurs in the lecture hall die down. You straighten your back, fingers folding neatly on your notebook, but your eyes drift to the side.

Jay sits perfectly still, his focus already back on the textbook in front of him. He hasn't said anything more, hasn't looked at you again, but the tension in your chest remains. You breathe in slowly, catching a trace of his scent in the air. It's just as sharp and grounded as you remember, a mix of something clean and deep that makes your Omega stir with quiet satisfaction.

The professor started to discuss lessons and you are practically listening and somehow taking notes to maybe impress him, and that was working because he took a glance of your side, seeing you highlighting the whole textbook words. Trying to show him that you're serious, intelligent, worthy of more than a glance.

Jay shifts slightly in his seat, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a brief flick of his gaze in your direction.

You keep your face neutral, pretending to be deep in concentration as your highlighter glides over the page. Line after line glows in soft pastel, the entire passage bathed in yellow. A tiny Hello Kitty doodle in the corner of the page, next to a heavily annotated paragraph on communication theory.

You wonder what he's thinking. If he's amused, confused, maybe even slightly entertained. A quiet giggle escapes your lips, and you bite down gently, trying to hide the smile forming there. Your foot taps lightly against the floor, energy buzzing low in your body.

You wait a moment longer, gauging the air between you. He hasn't looked again, hasn't shifted or spoken. So you take a breath and lean a little closer, turning slightly toward him. "Uh... I don't actually get this," you say, voice soft but clear as you point to a section in the textbook—an overly technical explanation on media framing you've probably already read twice. "Can you explain it to me?"

For a second, he doesn't respond. His eyes remain on his book, and you start to wonder if you've crossed a line too soon. But then he exhales quietly, closes his textbook partway, and glances at the page you're showing him. His gaze lingers there for a moment, then shifts to you. "You highlighted the whole paragraph," he says.

Your cheeks flush, but you don't back down. "I like the... vibe of it." Jay looks at you for a second longer, then he leans in slightly, his finger tapping just under a specific line on the page. "It's saying the media doesn't just tell people what to think but what to think about. Focus, not opinion."

"Oh," you murmur, nodding slowly, eyes flicking to where his hand rests just a few inches from yours. "You make it sound easier than it reads."

"I read it twice," he replies, already pulling his book back in front of him.

And though he doesn't say anything more, his voice is still in your ears. You turn your eyes back to your book, pretending to focus, even though your brain has stopped retaining anything. You don't try anything else after that one moment. That single conversation is enough to carry you through the rest of the day. It's the first time Jay acknowledged you, and it left your Omega humming.

Now, walking through the hallway with Ningning by your side, you can't stop smiling. The two of you are giggling, replaying every second of that encounter.

"He definitely wants you," Ningning says with dramatic flair, nudging your shoulder.

You laugh, blushing as you swat her playfully. "Shut up, it was just one line."

"Please. That line had chemistry." You roll your eyes, but you can't deny the heat in your cheeks or the way your heart flips at the memory.

Reaching the vending machine, you step forward, scanning the options. "Huh? No cookies?" you frown, staring at the empty slot. "Ugh, I was craving those."

Ningning leans in, also inspecting the machine. "Tragic," she says with a mock-sigh, then brightens. "What if we cut our next class and check out that new café that just opened near the plaza?"

You blink. "Tempting." Ningning pulls out her phone, scrolling before shoving it toward your face. You lean in, squinting at the tiny text, then pinch the screen to zoom. "Sixty dollars for a matcha latte?" you ask, arching a brow. "Not bad."

Ningning squeals in approval. "Okay, so we do the café and get our nails redone. We need to change the designs anyway—mine are chipped, and yours are too soft for this week's vibe."

"I was just thinking that," you nod. "I need a silver set. Like sharp silver."

"You'll slay," she says, flipping her hair. You're mid-laugh when a voice cuts through the moment.

"Excuse me."

You and Ningning turn simultaneously, startled. Jay stands just behind you, hand gesturing toward the vending machine.

Your mouth opens. "H-Huh?" He doesn't repeat himself, just nods slightly at the machine again. You immediately step aside, your heart leaping into your throat.

"Sorry," you mutter, voice small. You grab Ningning's wrist and drag her away, heels clicking way too loudly in the suddenly echoing hallway.

You don't speak until you're halfway around the corner. Then, a panicked whisper: "Oh my god. Did he just hear us talking about skipping class?"

Ningning stares at you, wide-eyed. "I think he did."

You gasp, covering your mouth. "What if he thinks I'm irresponsible?! What if he's, like, into punctuality?"

"Oh, calm down," Ningning says, rolling her eyes and giving your shoulder a light slap. "You're hot. He'll understand."

The next day, you're back in class, you move toward the seat beside him. He doesn't look up when you settle in, but he doesn't move away either. That alone feels like a small victory.

Your bag makes its usual soft thump as you place it down, and you take a slow breath, gathering the courage to try again. Your fingers flip open your notebook, the page already prepared with today's topic scribbled in soft pencil at the top. You glance at him once, then look down at your page, pretending to be curious then turn slightly toward him.

"Sooo..." you start, "how do you think politicians build and maintain public personas? Do you think it's all strategy, or is there actual personality behind it?"

Jay's pen pauses mid-sentence. He doesn't look at you right away, but he tilts his head slightly, as if considering the question. "It's both," he says, voice even. "Strategy shapes the narrative, but personality sells it. If the public doesn't believe it's genuine, the image falls apart."

You blink, caught off guard by the depth of his response and the fact that he answered you at all. "That's... actually a good point," you say, surprised by how easily the conversation opens. "So image is controlled, but it needs to feel natural?"

He nods once, eyes still on his notes. "Authenticity matters. Or at least the illusion of it." You nod along, genuinely impressed by how he speaks. There's no flourish, no need to impress. He just says what he means. You turn slightly toward him again, emboldened by the way he hasn't shut you out.

Truth be told, you're not all that invested in the lecture or the textbook you've been pretending to highlight. You didn't choose Media Communication because you had a burning passion for media theory or policy analysis. You chose it because it was flexible, creative, and practical enough to satisfy your parents while still giving you room to breathe. You're more interested in the industry side—branding, entertainment, fashion, maybe even PR.

Your gaze drifts back to him, and without thinking too hard about it, you speak again. "You know, you're like... really serious," you say, laced with genuine curiosity. "I admire that in an Alpha. So quiet, but it's like you always know exactly what you're talking about."

That earns you a glance. "Why did you choose this major?" you ask, trying not to sound too eager. "Was it something you always wanted?"

Jay closes his book, slips a paper between the pages to mark his place, "I chose it because communication controls perception," he says. "And perception shapes power. If you want to understand influence, you have to understand how people see the world and who's deciding what they're allowed to see."

You blink, a little caught off guard by how sharp his answer is, how layered. God, he's so hot. You rest your chin on your hand, pretending to scan your notes while stealing another glance at him. His jaw is sharp from this angle, and the way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the edge of the table feels unintentionally deliberate.

"You make it sound so... intense," you say with a soft laugh, trying to sound casual.

"It's just media," he replies, eyes still on his notes. "But most people don't realize how much it controls them until it's already shaped their beliefs."

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling too hard. He's serious, and he probably doesn't even realize how attractive that is. "I just chose it because I didn't want to take calculus," you admit, shrugging. "I'm aiming more for industry—creative side. Branding. Fashion. That sort of thing."

He glances at you again. "So not here for the theory."

You laugh lightly. "Guilty."

ONE THING about Jay that you've repeated—out loud to Ningning, in your head at night, and even in your journal when you're feeling particularly lovesick—is that he's just so serious. It's not just his expression, which rarely shifts from that calm, focused look, or the way he speaks in clean, measured sentences. It's everything about him. The way he listens before speaking, the way he never fidgets or rambles, how he always seems a little detached from the chaos around him.

Conversations with him are awkward more often than not, mostly because you're doing most of the heavy lifting. You ask, he answers. You joke, he blinks. You try to steer things toward common ground, usually something from the subjects you share, but even then, getting more than a few sentences out of him is like trying to pull sunlight out of storm clouds. Still, there's something about his stillness, the way he never brushes you off, never acts annoyed or dismissive, that keeps you coming back. He may not give much, but he doesn't shut you out either. And for someone like Jay, that's saying something.

You've been trying for weeks now to catch him smile. A real one. Not just a twitch of the lips or a polite curve. You've watched his face like a hawk in lectures, in group discussions, even when someone in class said something truly ridiculous. Nothing, he's a stone wall. A beautiful stone wall.

You're walking beside him after class, textbook tucked against your chest, and your eyes flick up toward him. "Wow," you say, almost without thinking, blend with something a little more flirtatious. "You're like... so tall."

He makes a low sound in response—"Hmmm"—flat, sooo uninterested. His eyes stay forward, no change in his expression, and for a second you want to groan. Why is he like this?

You bite your lip, forcing a small laugh as you quicken your steps to stay beside him. "It's normal for an Alpha to be tall, right?" you continue, "Is that, like, a biological thing or just unfair genetics?"

A beat of silence that almost makes you think he's going to ignore you again—but then, finally, he speaks. "I guess height's common," he says. "It's just bone structure. Has nothing to do with whether or not someone can protect or lead."

And just like that, the conversation slips right back into that oddly philosophical tone he always seems to carry. You blink, unsure whether to be impressed again or just plain exhausted. You hug your textbook tighter to your chest and glance at him, lips parting, but nothing comes out. Because really, what do you even say to that? You were joking. Kind of. Or at least trying to keep things playful. Flirty, maybe. And here he is, treating the topic of Alpha height like it's part of some dissertation.

Why is he like this? Why does every conversation with him end up sounding like it belongs in a debate or a textbook? You let out a soft sigh, almost defeated. Does he not have a sense of humor? At all? Has he ever laughed? Like, genuinely?

He's not cold, and he's not mean—he just seems like he's wired to take everything seriously, to filter everything through logic and restraint. Like the idea of saying something stupid just for fun physically pains him.

"I know there's something under that ice," you mutter as you find yourself collapsing into a seat beside Ningning. "I just haven't figured out how to melt it yet."

Ningning leans in, suddenly serious. "Okay. Then stop letting him steer the tone. Flip it."

You blink. "Flip it?"

"You keep asking him about himself—his thoughts, his perfectly structured, emotionally stunted worldview," she says, waving her hand dramatically. "Ask him something about you. Throw him off. Put him in unfamiliar territory."

You frown, considering. "Like what? My childhood trauma?"

"No!" She glares. "Keep it cute, dumbass. Ask him what nail color suits you. Or what your color palette is. Something visual. Something he wouldn't expect. Make him look at you as you. Not a classmate, not a discussion partner—you."

You blink at her, then slowly sit up, a grin creeping across your face. "That's actually kind of genius."

Ningning preens. "Of course it is. I should start charging for advice."

The next time you see Jay after class, while walking beside him down the stone path lined with early autumn leaves—you wait until the conversation dips into its usual silence. You look down at your nails, freshly done with a soft nude polish and silver accents, then glance at him.

"Hey," you say casually, turning toward him slightly, "be honest. What color do you think would look good on my nails?"

"I—what?" He says. You lift your hand, fingers fanned slightly. He looks at your hand, and for the first time in weeks of trying, he actually hesitates.

"Why are you asking me?"

You raise a brow, keeping your voice light. "Because you have eyes, and I figured you might know what looks good. You're observant. Aren't Alphas supposed to be visually sharp or something?"

Jay's expression doesn't shift much, just that same slow, processing look he gives to everything. As if he's trying to figure out if this is a trick question. "I'm not really an expert on nail colors," he replies.

"Exactly why your answer would be interesting," you say, not letting up. "No overthinking. Just—what do you think would look good?"

He stares at your hand a moment longer, his brows narrowing slightly in thought. "Dark red. Or emerald. Something that contrasts."

You blink, surprised not just by the answer, but by how confidently he says it once he decides. "Really?" you ask, grinning. "Why?"

"Because it would stand out. You wear a lot of soft tones. That would break it."

You pause, smile lingering. Your Omega purrs beneath the surface, pleased by his answer. You didn't even realize you were releasing pheromones until you caught his glance again, he felt it but chose not to say anything. You quickly pulled back, muttering your goodbye before walking away, your steps light, body buzzing with something that made you feel like you could float. Or run. Or scream.

Ningning fans herself dramatically as you finish the story, eyes wide and lips parted like she's about to faint.

"I need to breathe. I actually need to lie down. This is too much. He wants you that bad."

Over the next few days, you find yourself leaning in more, talking more, weaving pieces of yourself into the quiet spaces he allows you to fill. You know you're chasing him. Carefully. Waiting for him to slip just enough to let you in.

You tell him about your shopping trip with your parents, narrating it like a story you hope he'll secretly enjoy. You pull out your phone and show him your new emerald nail set, his suggestion—and even though he only glances and gives a barely-there nod, your heart races.

Today, you're back beside him again, phone already in hand before class starts. He's reading—he's always reading—but you angle the screen toward him anyway.

"Look," you say softly, tilting your phone so he can see. "This is the new design for the Flower Knows. Isn't it cute?"

He barely lifts his gaze. "Hmm."

"I'm planning to buy the whole set," you continue, your tone light with just enough excitement to keep the conversation moving. "The design is so cute—it's like, magical fairy princess energy."

You start digging through your bag, rummaging past highlighters and hand cream, determined to show him more proof of your obsession. "And look—this clip? Also from Flower Knows. And my mirror, too."

You finally pull it out and hold it up between you. It's pastel pink with gold accents, the mirror rimmed with delicate little flowers and a tiny pearl charm dangling from the corner. You tilt it toward him with a proud smile. "Cute, right?"

Jay glances up, gaze flicking to the mirror in your hand. He studies it for a beat longer than usual, eyes moving across the details before they shift back to your face. Yes, attention!

Your Omega stirs instantly, thrilled by the flicker of focus. "You really like this brand," he says.

Your eyes sparkle at the sound, and you nod, heart fluttering. "I do," you say, tone bright. "They make everything so pretty—romantic, even. It's like they design everything with soft people in mind."

Without missing a beat, you shuffle through your bag again, fingers brushing past pens and notebooks until they close around the familiar small tube. You pull it out and hold it in front of him, the packaging all shimmering red and pink. "This is my favorite," you say, showing him the lip glaze. "It came from the set called Strawberry Cupid. Even the name's adorable."

You twist off the cap and hold the wand up, careful not to get it too close. "It smells like candy, and it's got this tiny gold shimmer in it. I'd let you try it, but I don't think that's your vibe."

Jay doesn't respond, just silence as he calmly turns back to his textbook. The brief moment of attention is gone again, and you're left staring at the side of his face. But you don't stop. You refuse to stop. You lower the gloss, cap it again, and rest your elbow on the table, head tilting slightly as your eyes drop to his hand—broad, still, resting lightly over the open page of his book. His fingers are long, neat, relaxed.

"Stop it, Jay," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Your hand is like sooo big." He doesn't move, but his pen pauses in place. You slide your hand next to his on the table, palms flat, fingers stretching to match his. The size difference is comically obvious.

"Look at this," you say, eyes flicking between your hand and his. "This is ridiculous. I look like a baby." Still no verbal reply, but his eyes shift to the sight of your hand beside his. "You could literally hold my entire face with one hand," you add, smirking.

Jay exhales, finally speaking, tone flat. "Why would I do that?"

"Dramatic emphasis," you reply without hesitation, grinning.

You expect him to ignore you again. Instead, he flips the page in his textbook, slowly, and mutters under his breath, "You're so fucking loud."

It should sting. Maybe from someone else, it would. But from him? The words are dipped different—dry annoyance with no real bite. There's no edge, no tension, just the sound of someone resigned to your presence. Your smile creeps in. You lean in, shoulder gently nudging his with the kind of softness that borders on familiarity, even if he hasn't quite given it to you yet. "Sorry," you whisper, all fake innocence and playful sweetness, like you didn't just take another step into his space on purpose.

His shoulder stays pressed lightly against yours, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. And for someone like Jay, who seems to guard every inch of his presence, that quiet stillness feels louder than anything he could say.

⋮ ⌗ act three

"ARE YOU seriously telling me," Giselle says, crossing her arms with a look of pure judgment, "that after three months, all you've done is compare hand sizes with him?" She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her tone teetering between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment.

Before you can even open your mouth, Ningning jumps in ready to defend your honor. "He's an unmated Alpha, Giselle! That means it's a big deal. He doesn't even look at people—he looked at her! That's progress."

Giselle snorts. "Bitch, at this rate, she could be asking him if he can help her with her heat. You've got permission to flirt, not write a slow-burn tragedy."

You gasp, swatting her playfully. "Stop it! I am not ready for the R-18 version of my life yet." You wave your finger in front of her face, trying not to laugh as Ningning snickers beside you. "I'm building a connection," you say, mock-offended but fully grinning. "You don't rush art."

You're not in a rush because you enjoy it—every small, awkward, quiet moment with Jay. Even when he gives you nothing. Even when he sighs like he's this close to telling you to leave him alone. You still slip into the seat next to him, still nudge his shoulder with yours, still talk about nail polish and dessert-shaped blush compacts.

The bond might not be spoken or returned yet, but it's there, and in every moment he lets you stay.

"Ayoo? What's with the two of you lately?" Yeonjun calls out, grinning. A chorus of teasing follows from a few classmates, the usual ooohs and wolf whistles echoing louder than necessary. You instinctively push a strand of hair behind your ear, face warming as you try to brush off the attention.

"Stop it, guys," you mutter, rolling your eyes and waving them off. Jay, of course, doesn't respond. He just walks to his usual seat, unfazed, calm as ever. But you catch the slight tightening of his jaw. The way he adjusts his bag a little more roughly than usual before sitting down.

You follow, naturally, and as you pass Yeonjun, you give him a light kick to the side of his foot, just enough to make your point. "Asshole," you hiss under your breath. "Lover girl," he sings back, winking. You ignore him and slide into the seat beside Jay, acting like your heart isn't pounding.

Jay doesn't say anything when you sit beside him. You try not to let it bother you. You tell yourself he's probably tired, or focused on the lecture, or maybe in one of his quiet moods again. Still, halfway through class, you lean in a little, whispering something light—maybe a comment about the ridiculous diagram on the slide. Something harmless, something that usually gets you a sigh, a glance, something.

Instead, all you get is a sharp click of his tongue, like you're a fly buzzing too close to his ear. You freeze, pouting slightly as you pull back. The sting isn't sharp, but it's enough to make your Omega shrink a little, unsettled by the rejection. He's never been warm, never welcoming, but he's never snapped either—not like this.

You spend the rest of the lecture trying to focus, eyes flicking to him now and then, hoping he'll say something that'll make it feel less harsh. He just stays silent, attention locked on the lecture like you don't even exist beside him.

When the class finally ends and students begin packing up, you gather your things slowly, debating if you should say something at all. "Do you want to have lunch together?" you ask, voice trying to sound casual, hopeful. "KFC's maybe? Or Wendy's? I'm, like, really craving fast food right now—"

Jay stops mid-motion, his hand frozen over his bag. Then, without even looking at you, he speaks. "Would you please leave me alone?"

You flinch. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. A soft, involuntary whine escapes your throat, your Omega reacting before your brain does. You stare at him, stunned, lips parted in disbelief.

"I don't know what you want from me," he says, finally turning to look at you. His face isn't just unreadable now—it's annoyed. "But I'm fucking sick of tolerating your presence."

Your stomach drops. The air feels colder, every word sinks deep into your chest, past the teasing, the efforts, the months of hope. "Leave me alone. It's annoying. We're not even friends," Jay says, and then he turns away.

Your eyes begin to blur, the weight of humiliation building too fast to swallow down. You inhale sharply, trying to hold it in, trying not to let it show but your Omega doesn't listen. It reacts, a wave of distressed pheromones leaks from your skin. You step back instinctively, shoulders curling inward as you twist away, walking fast in the opposite direction.

You missed the way Jay stop his steps and looked back at your retreating figure.

You focus on your steps, your breathing, anything to distract yourself from the way your chest feels like it's caving in. The hallway seems longer than usual, you feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere as you pass other students, their gazes following you, some of them turning their heads slightly, noses lifting as they catch the scent of your distress.

You duck into an empty hallway, one rarely used between classes, and slip into the corner near a closed-off faculty room. There, out of sight, you finally let yourself breathe as your hands tremble against the cool wall.

Your Omega coils in your chest, quiet but wounded. It doesn't understand. Alphas aren't supposed to reject so harshly. Not when there's been a connection. Not when you've tried this hard. Not when every instinct told you he was the one. But you remind yourself—Jay is different. He always has been. Cold, closed-off, serious to a fault. And today... maybe today he's just having a bad day. Maybe something pushed him too far, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You should've backed off sooner. You should've noticed the signs.

You had gotten comfortable, too comfortable, that's right. You let yourself believe that his tolerance meant quiet acceptance. You convinced yourself he was letting you in, little by little. But maybe you crossed a line he never gave you permission to approach.

You press your palms to your face, grounding yourself with the contact. You can't cry here. Not now. You have to calm down. Hide the scent. Regain control. You're not his Omega. He never claimed you. Never promised you attention, affection, or anything beyond silence. If he wants space, if your presence has started to feel more like pressure than connection, then you'll give him that.

But that doesn't mean you're giving up. You let your forehead rest against the cool wall, inhaling deeply, trying to draw your scent back under control. Your Omega, though bruised, isn't broken. It whimpers, but it doesn't turn away. You can give him time. You can give him distance. You can even pretend not to care when you pass him in the hallway or when he walks into class like you don't exist but you're not walking away. Not now.

"It's not rejection," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as you explain yourself to your friends later that afternoon. "It's resistance."

The three of you are sprawled across Ningning's bed, surrounded by takeout containers, open makeup palettes, and the unmistakable comfort of long, unfiltered conversations. The topic has shifted—again—to Jay.

Giselle scoffs from the foot of the bed, tossing her phone onto the blanket. "Isn't it unhealthy for an Omega to keep chasing someone who keeps bruising your bond like this? You need to find a new Alpha. Preferably one who actually talks."

You sigh, pressing your palm to your forehead. "You don't get it. He is my Alpha. I can feel it."

"No, you're just being delusional," she mutters.

"No, seriously—" you sit up a little straighter, voice more defensive than you'd like—"I've been pushing too hard. I know that. He's not the type who responds to pressure. I should've paced myself."

Ningning, who's been quiet until now, hums as she applies cuticle oil. "His walls are so high. You're gonna throw out your shoulder knocking like that."

"I'm not stopping," you say, shaking your head. "I just need to knock quieter. That's all."

There's a beat of silence before Giselle shoots you the most deadpan look imaginable. "You literally sound insane." You open your mouth to argue, but before you can say a word, Ningning chimes in without even looking up from her phone. "Let her be," she says, popping a gummy into her mouth. "She's a walking 22-year-old virgin who hasn't spent a single heat with an Alpha since her first one. She's overdue for a little delusion." She pauses, then adds with a knowing smirk, "Besides—Jay is hot. If I were feeling the bond with someone like him, I'd be annoying 24/7 too.

You shove a pillow at her with a groan. "I am not annoying!"

Still, the next day, you choose not to sit beside him.

You walk into the lecture hall early, find a spot a few rows behind his usual seat, and keep your head down as students filter in. When Jay walks in and takes his usual seat, you stay still behind your book, peeking just slightly over the top to watch him placing his things down. Then he reaches for something on the desk.

There, resting against his notebook, is a small box of almond chocolates—his favorite—and a pale pink sticky note with your handwriting:

I'm sorry :<

He stares at it for a moment, no visible change in his expression. Just the smallest pause as he reads the note. Then, slowly, his eyes lift and lock onto yours. You freeze behind your book, immediately ducking your head lower, pretending to read, cheeks burning.

The next day, and the one after that, and the one after that still—you keep leaving small things for him. Almond chocolates, the occasional matcha drink, and those tiny, handwritten notes folded carefully on top. Hope you're not too tired today. Good luck on your quiz. This one has extra almonds. Thought you'd like that.

You don't speak to him. You don't sit beside him again. You don't even make eye contact. You just leave them, quietly, and watch from a distance—sometimes through the gap between your fingers, sometimes from behind your open book, pretending to be invested in your notes. And every time he takes them, your Omega flutters with soft satisfaction. He never says thank you, never even glances your way, but he takes them. That's enough. That means something... doesn't it?

Until it doesn't.

That afternoon, after a particularly long lecture, the room empties slowly. Jay rises from his seat, slips his bag over his shoulder, and walks out like usual. You follow—at a distance, your steps soft and measured, like you're just heading in the same direction. But as you round the corner into the hallway, you see him stop by one of the large trash bins outside the exit. You pause instinctively, half-hidden behind the corner, confused.

Then you watch. He takes the small snack bag you'd given him that morning—still unopened—and the note still clinging to the wrapper with your careful handwriting. You expect him to tuck it into his bag like he always does.

Instead, he drops it straight into the trash. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him toss it in casually. He walks away without a backward glance. You stay frozen in place, unable to move. Your arms hang limp at your sides, your fingers trembling.

Your steps are slow as you walk toward the bin, you kneel beside it, reaching in carefully, pulling out the small snack bag you'd wrapped with quiet hope that morning. The note is still stuck to the front, your handwriting slightly crinkled now, and there's a smear of dust on the plastic.

You brush it off gently with your fingers, your vision blurs again, and this time, you don't try to stop it. One tear slips past your lashes, then another, rolling down your cheek as your lips press together in a tight pout. You blink down at the chocolate, hugging it to your chest.

"Sighs..." you whisper to yourself, trying to breathe through the heaviness in your chest, the sting in your throat. "I think... the things I've been giving him just aren't his taste."

You wipe your cheek, trying to laugh at yourself but failing. "Maybe I just went overboard," you murmur, looking down at the crumpled note. "Maybe it's my fault for pushing too hard."

You press your lips together, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to stand a little straighter, to feel a little less small. "I think I'm gonna need... a little break."

⋮ ⌗ act four

"HEY, Omega, can you get that book over there?"

You don't look up. Your eyes remain fixed on your nails, turning your hand slightly under the light, examining the way the gloss catches at the curve of your cuticles. You're mentally circling between two shades—pearl lavender or muted coral—and trying to picture which would match better with the new outfit you've had saved in your cart for weeks. Your thoughts drift again, this time to the Girlcult makeup set Ningning brought back from her trip to China. The packaging was ethereal, like it came from another world. You want it badly. The blush alone looks like a soft dream.

"Hey, Omega, I said get that book."

The same voice, sharper this time. You still don't look up. Instead, you straighten your fingers and flex them once more, admiring the length you've managed to grow out. Not bad. Not too long either. You make a mental note to book a silver chrome set next week, something reflective. You're already planning your errands after this group meeting, maybe squeeze in some bubble tea, maybe check the thrift shop two blocks down.

You're not even sure if being in the same group as Jay is luck or a cosmic joke. You've stopped chasing him—paused, really—told yourself you'd shift your focus back to yourself. You haven't talked to him since that day in the hallway. Haven't even looked at him directly. You've been pretending, performing the role of the girl who's moved on, who's reclaiming her time and redirecting her energy.

And maybe... maybe it's not all a lie.

You're starting to remember what your life was like before he stepped into it. You used to think he was the missing puzzle piece, the final shape to make you feel whole. But lately, you've started wondering—what if that puzzle piece was never meant for your life? What if it was too sharp, too heavy, too incompatible, no matter how perfect it looked from the outside?

You snort quietly to yourself, the thought making your lips curl. What a ridiculous metaphor. But then again, you've been living inside one long, drawn-out metaphor for months now.

"I think he's talking to you," your classmate beside you whispers, nudging your arm.

You finally glance up, slowly, turning your head toward the group. The guy across the table—one of your assigned groupmates, name forgotten—stares at you with thinly veiled irritation, clearly waiting.

Your eyes shift lazily to the book he's pointing at on the next table, then just as quickly, return your focus to your nails. You study the shimmer of the topcoat, the slight chip on your thumb, the way the light catches at the curve of your cuticle like it deserves more attention than the boy sitting across from you.

"No," you say, voice flat, disinterested, unapologetically dismissive. "Get it yourself."

You don't even look at him when he tenses. "Bitch," he mutters under his breath, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to pretend it was an accident. He stands up with more aggression than necessary, his chair scraping the floor as he strides toward the book and snatches it up from beside you. The motion sends a wave of his scent into the air, unrefined, bitter, and arrogant. The kind of pheromones that announce a need for dominance rather than any actual strength.

You sniff, subtly, wrinkling your nose at the pungent trail left in his wake. You press your lips together in annoyance, roll your eyes, and lean further back into your seat. Across the table, the other Omegas in your group shift in their seats, instinctively straightening their spines, adjusting their posture, some avoiding eye contact altogether.

You sigh through your nose, blowing lightly on your nails to dry them, annoyed by the way his pheromones cling to the air like spoiled cologne.

Geez. Alphas and their fucking pheromones. Always so loud, so desperate to remind everyone who and what they are. Like the rest of you couldn't already tell the second they entered a room—the posturing, the tone, the overconfident glances, and worst of all, the way their scent fills up the space without permission.

The air still feels saturated when the guy flops back into his seat, smug, clearly thinking he's made a point, display of Alpha irritation.

"Contain your pheromones," a voice says, "or leave."

Heads turn. Your own heart skips in a way you hate to admit, and when you look up, Jay is already staring—his eyes hard, fixed on the Alpha who had just returned to his seat.

The boy shifts, clearly startled by the sudden command, shoulders stiffening as he mutters a quiet "Sorry," and adjusts his seat, shrinking ever so slightly, signal that he knows his place in this moment. He won't challenge it.

You don't know the mechanics of how Alphas seem to instinctively understand where they fall in the unspoken hierarchy of power, how one look or tone can be enough to force silence from someone who just seconds ago thought they were the loudest voice in the room. And Jay didn't raise his voice. He didn't bare teeth. He didn't do anything except exist in that moment with enough intensity to silence another Alpha without breaking a sweat.

Your Omega, which has been stubbornly quiet ever since you promised yourself to stop chasing him, curls subtly inside you. As if it remembered something you've spent days trying to forget. As if it's reminding you that no matter how cold his words were last time, no matter how many days you spent replaying them in your head until they broke you down—he still has that effect on you.

You mentally curse yourself for letting it happen, for giving him that piece of your attention again over something so minimal. He didn't even do it for you. You sit through the rest of the group meeting in silence, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes on the clock instead of the people around you. You just want to finish this, get out, and focus on the rest of your day—the things that don't involve Jay or his infuriating gravity.

At the end of the meeting, Jay stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder, his tone cool and clipped as always. "I'll be sending a link to our group chat. Check it regularly. I'll monitor your progress there. Meeting dismissed. I hope you all play your parts well."

You're already halfway out of your seat, eager to breathe air that doesn't smell like Alpha ego or quiet tension. You gather your things, mentally going over your to-do list. But then, just as you're zipping your bag shut, you feel a presence behind you. A very specific one.

Your shoulders freeze. "Huh?" The sound escapes you as you turn—and there he is. Jay. Standing directly in front of you. Towering, and composed. And despite everything, your stupid heart does that ridiculous flutter. Worse, your Omega purrs at the nearness of him, curling up.

Shut up, you scream at yourself internally.

"Your number," he says flatly.

You blink. "My what?"

"Your number," he repeats, irritation edging into his voice. "Everyone else wrote theirs down. You didn't. You were too busy with your nails."

Ouch. Wordless, you take the phone he's holding out to you. Your nails click sharply against the screen as you type the digits in without looking at him, hit save, and hand the phone back in one clean motion.

And then you're gone. You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and walk. Stupid. Stupid feelings. Stupid Omega being submissive at a single glance like a lovesick fool.

You manage to avoid Jay at least as much as someone can when stuck in the same group project. As long as you submit your parts on time, follow whatever standards he insists on, and keep your head down, you figure you can survive the rest of the semester with your pride mostly intact.

Still, that doesn't mean you don't notice him. It's impossible not to. Jay is effortlessly composed when he works, all clean lines and focus, voice low but commanding in the way that makes people listen without question. It makes you roll your eyes every time one of the other Omegas in your group drifts closer than necessary, pretending they need him to review something just for a whiff of his scent.

You watch it all unfold from your seat—one girl biting her lip, leaning over the table, another brushing her fingers too close to his. You can see what they're doing from a mile away.

Pathetic, you think, scoffing silently. Why isn't he cold to them? Why does he let them stay close, speak freely, like he's not made of ice and silence? When you tried—when you pushed just a little closer—he burned you for it.

It's not fair. But fine. Whatever. You keep walking like it doesn't bother you, like you've got better things to think about than Jay and the unfair softness he shows to people who aren't you.

You're halfway down the hall between classes when Yeonjun spots you. He slings an arm across your shoulder like you're best friends. "What happened between you and Jay?" he asks, almost sing-song. "It's kind of sudden, you know? You two went from talking all the time to... nothing."

You roll your eyes and shrug his arm off, but he only cackles and throws it right back around you, dragging you a little closer as you walk. "Come on," he prods. "Tell me. Did you break up or something?"

"First of all, fuck off," you mutter, elbowing him in the side. "We weren't a thing to begin with. I just figured out that maybe he doesn't like company, so... friendship over." The words sting especially when you remember exactly what Jay said that day. "We're not even friends."

Yeonjun winces dramatically. "Yooo, that's brutal. And here I thought you had someone lined up for your next heat."

You whirl on him, scandalized. "Stop talking about my heat!"

He laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. "I know I get moody during pre-heat, okay?" you continue, huffing as your steps grow heavier. "I know I get annoying. Sorry if that's inconvenient for everyone." And just for emphasis, you stomp down hard on his foot.

He yelps. "Ow! Is that how you apologize?!"

You glare at him. "Bitch, these are Louboutins. Don't test me."

He gasps, stepping right back on your foot in retaliation. "Designer or not, that was uncalled for!"

You've managed to keep your mind light, your mood even lighter. You spent the afternoon giggling over new makeup releases and trying on three different outfits before settling on the one that made you feel just a little too confident. You even let one of your classmates borrow your Chanel perfume, the limited edition one that cost more than most people's weekly groceries. That alone says a lot about your good mood.

"This scent is so good! It's so long-lasting!" the girl gushes, practically bouncing in her seat as she sprays another generous mist onto her wrists and neck.

You wave your hand in front of your face, before turning back to your conversation with Ningning. She's already pulling up swatches of a new lipstick line, and you're halfway through deciding whether Burnt Rose or Peach Silk suits your skin tone more.

Until the moment Jay walks straight toward your table.

"Hey."

Your smile falters, but you hold your composure. Ningning immediately straightens, and you feel her pinch your leg under the table. You don't react. Instead, you retaliate with a subtle kick to her foot, keeping your expression as neutral as possible while turning your head slowly toward him. Jay stands there with one hand gripping the strap of his bag, his eyes fixed on you with that same expression he always wears, cool but unmistakably annoyed.

"W-What's up?" you ask, hoping your tone sounds casual even though your Omega is already squirming, stupidly alert under his gaze.

He narrows his eyes. "Where the hell did you get the source for your part of the group output?"

You blink. "Huh?"

Jay pulls out a folded printout and slaps it onto the table in front of you. You recognize your paragraph immediately—highlighted, annotated, and very, very questioned.

"That," he says, tapping the page, "reads like it was pulled from a blog post written in 2007."

You squint at it, leaning forward. "I mean... it's informative."

"Where did you get it?" he repeats, more firm this time.

You glance at Ningning, who looks like she's holding in a laugh, and then shrug a little, hoping the smile you offer is at least semi-charming.

"U-uh... Wikipedia?" Jay's expression goes flat. Like truly, utterly done-with-your-shit flat. You watch his jaw shift slightly before he inhales and exhales. "Are you kidding me?"

"I added bullet points?"

"I told everyone to use peer-reviewed journals."

"I thought Wikipedia was, like... collaborative academia?"

He gives you a look, the kind that doesn't even require words to communicate just how unimpressed he is. Then he scoffs. "Meet me at the library. 4:30," he says, already turning away. "You're going to repeat this shit."

Shit? What a mean guy! Jay is so mean!

When the time comes, you're at the library exactly at 4:27. You've changed into something a little more presentable. You even brought real sources this time: three articles you barely skimmed and one you printed just because it looked like it had graphs in it.

You walk toward the group study section, scanning the long tables until you see him—Jay, already seated, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, laptop open in front of him. One hand rests on the keyboard, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. You approach cautiously, pulling out the chair across from him. "Hi," you say, quietly. You sit down, trying to slide your printouts toward him.

He barely glances up. "Do you even know what the research topic is?"

You pause. "Media manipulation in digital spaces."

"What's your angle?"

You blink. "Angle?"

Jay leans back in his chair and exhales, clearly restraining himself from saying something cruel. He rubs his temple for a second, then looks at you fully. "I need you to actually try today," he says.

You nod, more serious now. "Okay. I'll try. I am trying."

He watches you for a moment longer, then gestures to your stack of papers. "Start by telling me why you picked those."

You look down at your papers and clear your throat, suddenly aware of how quiet the library is and how loud your pulse feels in your ears. "I thought the one with the graphs would impress you..."

Jay closes his eyes for a moment, not even sighing anymore, just exhaling through his nose like he's trying to summon patience from a part of himself that's already empty.

From there, the next hour becomes a slow kind of hell. Jay doesn't just skim your work or toss it aside. He makes you repeat it—all of it. Line by line, paragraph by paragraph. He makes you read it aloud, then explain what each section means in your own words. You try to follow, but his questions come fast and firm, drilling into the parts you only half-understood, peeling away the fluff you thought might pass.

And it becomes painfully clear, to both of you, that you don't know what the hell you're talking about.

You stammer your way through vague definitions, hope a few filler words will distract him, even throw in a shrug and a weak laugh at one point, but it's useless. His expression never changes. He just stares, waiting for a real answer that never comes.

It's not like you wanted to be useless. It's just—why does this topic have to be so soul-crushingly dull? Media manipulation in digital spaces? Who even cares? You'd rather re-organize your lipstick drawer alphabetically and by tone than sit through another journal article about algorithmic bias and digital literacy. And yeah, maybe you chose the wrong major. But still, it's not like you're trying to drag the group down on purpose.

Jay finally leans back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes still locked on you with that same, merciless calm. "I'm going to monitor your progress from now on," he says, "If you want to fail, that's your business. But don't take the group down with you."

You blink, stunned, not sure if you're more embarrassed or pissed. "Other people are working hard to get what they want. Be mindful of your attitude," he continues. "If I see you half-assing this again, I'll pull you out of the group myself."

You just sit there, mouth slightly open, because—what the actual fuck? There's a long pause as he packs his things neatly, methodically. And all you can think is: That was so hot.

God, you hate yourself. Because that shouldn't have been attractive. The tone, the authority, the focus, the absolute lack of patience for your bullshit—none of it should've made your heart flutter. And yet, there it is. That annoying, heavy thump in your chest, that quiet curl of heat in your stomach that says yes Alpha, scold me more, and you genuinely want to scream into your tote bag.

What the hell is wrong with you?! You glare at him as he pushes his chair back and stands up, towering over you.You used to like him? You wanted to bond with that?

He grabs his bag and walks off without another word, and you're left staring at his retreating back, jaw tight, fists clenched in your lap. What about what you want to have? What about your dreams? What about the fact that you're trying your best to live, breathe, and survive your academic burnout in peace?

AND YOU'RE starting to think Jay's entire academic mission in life is to personally destroy any shred of peace you have left. Maybe he's taken it upon himself to make sure you never get the luxury of coasting through college with eyeliner perfectly winged and notes scribbled in pink ink. Because every single time—every single fucking time—you submit something for the group work, he reads it, glances at you like you just personally offended the concept of intelligence, and hands it back with that cold expression that somehow hurts more than yelling ever could.

Jay leans back in his seat, flipping through the stapled pages you handed him five minutes ago. His jaw is tight, brows drawn as his eyes scan the words. You've already started chewing on the inside of your cheek, fingers tapping nervously against your notebook as you wait for the inevitable.

He exhales, and you already know what's coming. "Repeat this," he says, placing the papers in front of you. "Out loud. Paragraph one. Let's go."

You blink, confused. "You want me to read it?"

"No. I want you to explain it," he replies. "Read it out loud, then tell me what it means. If you can't even do that, what are we doing here?"

Your mouth opens, you lower your gaze and start reading, voice wobbling slightly as you stumble through your opening paragraph. It's not even bad writing—at least, not in your opinion—but when Jay stops you halfway through and points out a vague phrase, you already know you're in for another hour of this.

"What do you mean by 'societal shifts influence perception'?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

You blink. "Like... when society changes, people... think differently?"

Jay just stares, filled with judgment, as if he's holding back a lecture you probably deserve.

"Okay," you add quickly, trying to fix it. "I meant that media narratives change based on what society is focused on. Like trends. Or politics. Or cultural stuff—"

"You wrote that it influences perception subtly, not directly," he interrupts, "what evidence do you have for that claim?"

Your mouth opens again. Nothing. "If you're going to write like that, you need to know what you're saying. You don't write just to sound smart. You write to prove a point. Understand the difference."

Your face burns as the words hit. You look at him, then back at your paper, your throat tightening with a quiet mix of shame and frustration. Maybe you are the weakest link in the group. Maybe he's right to be this intense.

Still, your pride kicks in, even if it's bruised. "Fine," you mutter. "I'll fix it."

Jay doesn't say anything. He just nods once, and starts typing again on his laptop like he didn't just deliver a verbal slap to your ego. You stare at your paper, the corners slightly bent, the ink smudged near the margin where your hand had rested too long. You don't even know what you're doing anymore. You thought you were doing it right. You thought your revisions were enough. But every time you hand him a draft, he finds something else wrong with it. Too vague. Too shallow. Too casual. Then when you finally overcompensate and make it dense, academic, he tells you it's too overexplained. Redundant. Forced.

You're caught in a loop of not-good-enough, and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get it right.

But the worst part is you still want to impress him. You still want him to look at something you've done and actually pause. To read your words and see you through them. Not just tolerate your work, not just skim it and correct it like it's another chore—see you. And maybe that's pathetic. Maybe that's your Omega talking again, that deep, aching need to be acknowledged, to be worthy.

So you double down. You study harder. You stay up late rereading articles, highlighting passages you barely understand but force yourself to analyze. You start drafting, rewriting, reformatting, again and again, until your vision blurs. You give up your free time, your peace, and slowly, without noticing, everything else begins to fall away.

You don't realize how long it's been since your last self-care day. How your perfectly manicured nails have started to chip around the edges, the gloss dulled and peeling. You can't remember the last time you joined Giselle and Ningning for a boba run, or went out shopping just to feel cute, or even indulged in a quiet, overpriced matcha latte while scrolling through lip gloss swatches and pretending your life was still soft and simple.

You've skipped parties. Canceled lunch dates with your girlfriends. You haven't even opened that package of new lashes you ordered two weeks ago.

You're too busy chasing a moving target. One that wears black sweaters and critiques your grammar. Your planner is full of deadlines and corrections now. Your lipstick is worn off by mid-afternoon. Your back aches from sitting in stiff library chairs too long, trying to fix a sentence for the fifth time because Jay didn't like the way it sounded.

"Girl, I'm going to set a schedule later for my lashes and nails," Ningning announces cheerfully, flipping through her phone as you sit beside her in the campus café. "Want to join? Or are you too busy trying to impress Mr. Alpha again?"

She wiggles her eyebrows dramatically, and you let out a long, heavy sigh as you slump forward, resting your forehead against the edge of the table. The paper you've spent the past two nights slaving over lies flat in front of you—neatly printed, annotated with references. You've read it three times already and rechecked your citations. You even color-coded the margins for clarity, just in case Jay needs yet another excuse to nitpick.

"I'm satisfied with this," you murmur, voice muffled against the table. "This time, it's solid. No room for criticism. I met every single one of his standards. I even used academic journals and added a transitional thesis. If he questions me again, I'm ready to defend it like my life depends on it."

Ningning raises an impressed brow. "Well, goodluck, babe." You lift your head slowly, exhaling as if you've run a marathon. "Thanks."

She grins and reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. "Okay, good. Because once this is over, you're coming with me. Nail care, hand massage, and I'm thinking a soft almond-shaped acrylic set for both of us. I'll send my inspo to your messages, and we can hit the spa together. Maybe swing by Dior? Just a quick peek."

The moment she says it, something in you lifts. "Count me in," you say, finally smiling. "Full hand care, nails, the works. I'm thinking soft chrome this time. I'll send you the mood board later."

Ningning lets out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands in excitement. "Thank you, God! She's back! You finally have time for yourself again!"

You laugh, the kind of laugh that feels real after so many tense days. "So... does that mean I'm allowed to come to the party tomorrow night?"

Her eyes widen. "Wait, what?! You're actually going?" You nod, biting your lip like the idea excites you more.

YOU CLUTCH your final draft in both hands as you make your way toward the library. Your mood is still high, the conversation with Ningning echoing in your mind. You can already feel the scent of the spa oils in your imagination, hear the bubbling jets of the foot bath, see the pale pink Dior bag swinging from your wrist.

You're ready for peace again. You enter the library and spot Jay at the usual table, eyes glued to his laptop as always. You walk over, straighten your shoulders, and place the paper gently in front of him. He glances at it, says nothing for a moment. Then, slowly, he picks it up and starts reading.

You sit across from him, waiting. Trying not to fidget. Trying not to let your nails dig into your palm when he pauses at paragraph three. He flips a page. Eyes narrow. Brows twitch. Then comes the inevitable—he looks up.

"This part here," he says, pointing to the section you rewrote three separate times, "it's too vague again. You're brushing over your argument. What do you actually mean here?"

You blink. "What?" you whisper.

He turns the page again. "And here, this is fine, but it's padded. Cut the filler. Focus on your point."

Your heart sinks. "You're kidding, right?"

Jay looks up, calm as ever. "This isn't clear enough to include in the final draft. You'll need to revise it again."

Something in you cracks. You don't say anything. You think about all the nights you stayed up rewriting that same paragraph. You think about how you skipped lunch three times this week to finish this stupid draft, how you canceled plans, missed parties, ignored calls, stopped living—just for this. Just to hear him say it was good enough.

You're just... tired. The kind of tired that isn't about sleep or stress, but about the feeling that you're endlessly reaching for something that keeps stepping back, just out of reach. You think about the spa day you promised yourself, the almond-shaped nails and soft chrome polish you were so excited to get. You think about that moment of stillness with Ningning, sipping boba and laughing like you didn't have the weight of someone's judgment pressed onto your shoulders. You think about Dior. About the party. And you feel it all slipping right through your fingers.

You exhale, and swallow the tightness building in your throat. "When do you need it?" you ask, your voice so small.

Jay doesn't look up from your paper, fingers flipping back to that same third paragraph. "Your part is the only one that still needs fixing," he says bluntly. "Everyone else is moving ahead with physical presentation prep. So fix this tonight and send it back by tomorrow."

That's it. No thank you. No acknowledgment of the effort you've already poured into it. Just another deadline, another reminder that nothing you do will ever be enough.

Fuck him. You sit up a little straighter, lips parting. "But I think I already did my part perfectly," you say, pointing to paragraph three.

"This?" he asks, tapping the paragraph with the back of his pen. "You think this is perfect?"

You don't answer. Because there's something in his voice that already tells you he disagrees, and he's not going to soften it for your sake.

"This isn't perfect," he continues. "This is surface-level observation dressed up with vague language and soft transitions. It sounds nice, sure, but it doesn't say anything."

Your lips press into a tight line, and your stomach knots. "You keep writing like you're trying to be liked instead of trying to prove a point," he goes on, relentless. "Academic work isn't about sounding pretty. It's about clarity, direction, precision. You can write circles around a subject and still say nothing."

You swallow hard, your hands tightening in your lap. "I spent hours on this," you murmur, eyes fixed on the paper. "I canceled everything today."

Jay doesn't blink. "Then you should've spent those hours understanding the material, not decorating it."

You flinch like he hit you. For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. At the face you used to admire. The eyes you used to chase. The person you once thought you could belong to. Now all you see is a wall. Impenetrable. And your reflection on the other side, small and shrinking.

You glance down without thinking, your gaze drawn to your hands resting tensely on the edge of the table. Your fingertips are trembling, knuckles pale from how tightly you've been pressing them together. Your leg is bouncing under the table, nervous energy you didn't notice until now. And then—you feel it. A sharp snap. You blink.

Your pointer finger.

One of your nails has cracked. A clean break down the middle, right through the glossy polish you barely had time to care for in the last two weeks. It shouldn't matter. It's a nail. But it feels like the last thing keeping you together just gave out. The smallest fracture, and suddenly the whole image starts to crumble.

"I—" you start, voice rough in your throat. You lift your hand slowly, staring at the cracked nail.

Jay looks up. "I'm leaving the group," you say, the words escaping, not with anger, not even with emotion. Just exhaustion. He doesn't speak right away. Maybe he's surprised, or maybe he simply doesn't care. You wouldn't know. You're not looking at his face anymore.

"I'll tell the professor," you add, folding your papers neatly with hands that feel numb. "You can find someone better to work with. Someone who actually knows what they're doing."

Jay's lips part slightly, you tuck your papers into your folder with care, as if this small act of order will keep you from unraveling completely. And then you push your chair back, rising to your feet.

You sniffle softly, and the sound makes your chest burn with embarrassment. The worst part isn't the tears welling in your eyes or the sting of your pride cracking—it's the scent. The way your distress pheromones are seeping out of you, so bitter, practically painting the air with your emotions. You hate it. You hate how it betrays you, how it clings to your skin and floats around you, a silent broadcast to any Alpha nearby that something is wrong, that you are fragile.

You quicken your steps, head down, trying not to let anyone see your face. You need to get out of here. Away from Jay. Away from everyone. You press your folder to your chest and move faster, your shoes echoing against the tile floors of the hallway. You're hyperaware of your scent, how sharp it is, and how it must be overwhelming for anyone in a ten-foot radius. It's humiliating. You feel exposed, like every nerve is on fire and there's nowhere safe to hide.

Fuck being an Omega. You clench your jaw, pushing the thought down, but it bubbles up again. Fuck this life. You didn't ask for this. You didn't ask to be the one who spirals whenever something doesn't go right, whose emotions get turned into a scent that others can detect before you even process how you feel. You didn't ask to be born into a dynamic where every misstep is amplified by your biology. You didn't ask to be someone whose sadness inconveniences people, whose mere presence becomes a disruption the moment her emotions are too loud.

You wipe your cheeks aggressively with the back of your hand, smearing whatever's left of your concealer, your eyes stinging as the tears you've been holding in finally break free. You keep walking, cutting through unfamiliar halls, your mind racing, heart hammering. You don't care where you're going, you just need to not be seen.

It hits you again��most Omegas your age are already bonded. Already paired off with their perfect, compatible Alpha. They have someone who wants them. Someone who protects them, grounds them, holds them without flinching when their scent turns sour. And you? You're here. Unbonded. Unwanted.

You reach a quiet corner of campus, a dim side hallway near the back of the gym where no one usually lingers. Your eyes fall on the row of lockers near the old changing room, and without thinking, you grab one. It creaks open under your hand, the inside barely wide enough for a person. But you don't care, you step inside, shoulders hunching as you pull the door halfway shut behind you. It's cramped and it smells faintly like dust and old sweat, and it's hidden.

You press your forehead against the cool wall, you bite down on your lower lip, hard, trying to silence the sound rising in your throat, trying to muffle the sob you know is coming. You have to control it. You have to stop the pheromones from leaking further into the air, because no Alpha wants to smell this.

No Alpha would ever come to comfort this. Not yours, not anyone's. What Alpha wants an Omega who breaks down like this? Who can't even hold herself together over something as stupid as a paper? Who spirals at a cold tone and a red mark on the margin? Who loses control of her scent like a teenager going through her first heat?

You sob quietly at first, trembling fingers rising to your face to hide it even though there's no one around. Then your gaze drops, landing on your hands—your once-manicured, carefully polished hands. And there it is.

The crack in your nail. The one you tried to ignore. The chip in the gloss. The way it's uneven now. Ugly. You stare at it, and your bottom lip begins to tremble. "My nails," you choke out, the words wet and shaky. "My nails..."

Your breath stutters, chest rising and falling with jagged movements as another sob claws its way up and escapes. You curl your body tighter inside the narrow locker, arms wrapped around your legs now, your head resting against your knees as your chest heaves and your sobs grow louder. The scent of your distress is suffocating, shameful, but still safer than being seen. You let it pour out of you because at least here, you thought you could fall apart alone.

Then suddenly, you feel it—the shift of air, the creak of the locker door being pulled open. Light spills in, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, your sobs not stopping even when your safe space is breached.

"Stop it," comes a voice, low, gritted and breathless.

You flinch at the sound, your face still buried against your knees. "Go away!" you cry out, voice high and strangled. "Just leave me alone!" Your hands grip tighter around your legs, nails digging into your skin, but it's not enough to ground you. This was your only escape, the one place you could cry without shame, without someone telling you to quiet down or keep your scent in check. And of all the people who could've found you, it had to be him. Of course it had to be him.

"I hate you!" you scream through a sob, full of weeks of silence, stress, disappointment, and aching humiliation. "I hate you, I hate you—"

"Stop it," Jay says again, but this time, his voice sounds different. It is strained. You still don't look up. You shake harder, body trembling with every breath that fights to escape, until—

"Stop crying," he says again. His voice is breaking, it is desperate. "P-Please. Stop. Just—stop."

You feel him kneel in front of you, his shadow cutting into the narrow locker space, and that's when you finally glance up through tear-blurred eyes. Jay is there, crouched low, his breathing uneven. His forehead is damp with sweat, his jaw clenched tight like he's in pain. There's a rawness in his eyes you've never seen before, and behind the sharp lines of his face, there's some physical strain. He presses a hand to his chest as if it aches. The muscles in his neck twitch, his skin looks pale beneath the lights, and there's a faint tremble in his hand as it rests on the locker door.

"You're—" he stops, swallowing hard, brows furrowing like the pain just spiked. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, okay?" he repeats. He inches forward, his hand reaching out slowly, fingers tentative as they move toward yours.

You flinch. Before his skin can touch yours, you tug your hand away, clutching it tight to your chest as if his apology might burn you. You're still crying, your soft eyes red-rimmed, lashes clumped together with tears, and yet somehow still full of that hurt that makes you look even smaller. Cracked open, and trying so hard to hold yourself together in front of the person who shattered you. Jay's hand lingers in the space between you, suspended there, unsure of where to land. "Stop crying," he says quietly. "Please."

Your shoulders still tremble, your sobs haven't stopped, and when you sniff hard, trying to pull yourself together, it only makes the moment more pitiful. You lift the back of your hand to your face and wipe at your running nose, eyes still wet and red, cheeks stained with salt.

You hiccup slightly before whispering, "M-My nails."

Jay blinks, startled, his eyes flickering down as you lift your fingers toward him. Your hand is shaking as you hold it in the air, palm open, fingers spread, showing him the chipped polish and cracked tips, the ruined manicure you once wore so proudly.

"Do you know," you begin, voice catching, "that a lot of Omegas cut their nails short? On purpose? Because they don't want to hurt their Alpha during bonding? Or during... during anything."

You trail off, your throat tightening as you look down at your nails again. "I've never done that. I've never had to. I've never had someone to protect or to protect me. I don't have an Alpha. That's why I love doing my nails." You swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. "I design them because it makes me feel special. It makes me feel pretty. It's the only thing that makes other Omegas jealous when they look at me. Not because I'm bonded, or claimed, or loved... but because at least I had this. At least I had something."

Your voice breaks again, and you curl your fingers into your palm, slowly lowering your hand as your gaze drops to the floor.

"But now even that is broken." The words fall from your lips and it all comes rushing back. You're back to sobbing, your scent blooms again.

Jay flinches. He physically recoils for half a second as the weight of your distress crashes over him. His jaw clenches hard, his hand bracing against the wall as he sucks in a breath through his nose. The pressure in his head spikes, a dull, piercing throb that radiates behind his eyes. His chest aches—not emotionally, but physically. A deep, pulsing pain that makes it hard to breathe. His Alpha is reacting, rising to the surface.

Jay's never been overwhelmed like this, not by scent, not by an Omega's emotions. But your cries; they're hurting him. Not in the way he can brush off or rationalize. His Alpha instincts roar, screaming at him to do something. To calm you. To fix it. To soothe. And he doesn't understand why. Why you? Why now. Why does your sorrow feel like it's shattering something inside him?

He presses a hand to his chest, wincing at the tightness blooming there. "I'm sorry," he says again, more firmly now, trying to reach you. "I'm sorry."

He moves toward you without thinking this time, and when he reaches out, you don't pull away. You don't flinch or snap at him like before. You let your weight fall against him, and he catches you with arms that are hesitant but firm.

He wraps them around you carefully. One hand at your back, the other gently settling at your shoulder. You press your face into the curve of his neck, sobs still shaking through you, but not with the same violence. You're exhausted now, and it spills out in softer, helpless trembles.

"You're so mean," you whisper between gasps, your small fists thumping once, twice against his chest. The hits are weak. You don't push him away, you just cry harder, your fingers curling into his shirt as the last of your composure crumbles.

Jay closes his eyes tightly, his throat working around the lump that's formed there. His arms draw in more, and his scent changes with soft, warm and calming. He doesn't even realize he's doing it at first, the slow flood of pheromones wrapping around you as his Alpha tries to soothe you the only way it knows how.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again, as his hand moves slowly up and down your back, matching the rhythm of your shuddering breaths.

You melt. There's no other word for it. The moment his scent hits you fully, your crying doesn't just slow, it stops. Your eyes are closed and your breathing has steadied. His scent is laced with a deeper musk only present when an Alpha's instinct is fully engaged presses through your senses. It's warm, subtly spiced, and just faintly sweet underneath. A scent that speaks of strength without force, safety.

Your Omega responds instantly. A soft, involuntary purr builds from deep within your chest. It's loud. Embarrassingly so. You freeze for a moment, cheeks flushed with the sudden realization but you don't pull away, because your Omega won't let you.

Jay doesn't say anything, doesn't even pull back. If anything, his arms around you tighten just slightly. He tilts his head down, his cheek brushing lightly against your hair as if to acknowledge the sound and accept it all the same.

⋮ ⌗ act five

YOU WERE officially presented as an Omega when you were ten years old. The ceremony was brief, celebrated with quiet tradition, and you remember thinking it didn't feel like the life-altering moment everyone made it out to be. It was just a title, a biological box that people were eager to check off. You didn't feel different. You didn't feel powerful or delicate or particularly wanted.

Your first heat came at sixteen, a little late, but still within the accepted margins of development. Everyone waited for the shift—the moment you'd become undeniably, instinctively desirable. The moment Alphas would take notice, the moment you'd feel the pull, the need, the overwhelming ache they all whispered about.

But when it happened... nothing did. There were Alphas, of course—ones who noticed the shift in your scent, who approached you cautiously, trying to offer comfort, trying to scent you. But nothing clicked. Their pheromones did nothing to you. You didn't feel warm or safe or bonded. You didn't even flinch.

Eventually, they stopped trying. Word spread quickly, as it always does. The strange Omega who doesn't respond. The one who doesn't purr, doesn't submit, doesn't bat their lashes when an Alpha walks by. "Difficult," they called you. "Hard to please." The kind of Omega Alphas would rather avoid than attempt to figure out.

You started to wonder if you'd been misclassified. Maybe you were a Beta. Maybe they'd gotten it wrong. After all, you didn't feel the way other Omegas did.

On some nights, when you were alone in bed staring up at the ceiling with your sheets pulled up to your chin, your mind would wander. You'd catch yourself imagining what kind of Alpha you would want if you were normal, if you were soft in the ways everyone expected you to be.

"What kind of Alpha do you want?" someone had asked you once, during a sleepover.

You remember blinking at the ceiling and whispering, "I don't know," but you did.

Maybe you'd want someone soft. Not weak, just gentle. An Alpha who didn't have to snarl to be heard, who didn't need to dominate a room to feel secure in his own presence. Someone with a good sense of humor, the kind of person who could laugh at himself without losing dignity. Someone charming, not in a sleazy way, but a smile that made you forget how tired you were of pretending.

You imagined he'd be kind. Someone who could calm you with words instead of scent, who didn't see your guarded heart as a problem to fix but a treasure to earn. An Alpha who wouldn't expect you to kneel just because biology said you should, but one who would offer his hand and wait patiently until you wanted to take it.

In your mind, his face was always beautiful. Sharp cheekbones softened by expression, a strong jaw. Preferably someone with a dimple that appeared only when he laughed, and cat-like eyes that could read yours too well.

That was the Alpha you wanted.

But Jay is not soft, not sweet, not patient, and certainly not kind.

And yet, here you are—sitting in a plush pink chair at your favorite nail salon, eyes still swollen from crying, hands resting in warm water as your nail designer hums a gentle tune while prepping your cuticles. Jay is standing outside the glass wall of the shop, leaning against the brick exterior with his phone in one hand, glancing at you every few minutes like he's checking if you've calmed down enough to run again.

The nail designer glances up at you with a teasing smile, she tilts her head toward the window. "Is that your Alpha outside?"

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Jay. His brows are slightly furrowed as he scrolls through his phone.

You let out a sound that's part laugh, part exhausted exhale, and shake your head slowly. "No," you murmur, voice rough from all the crying. "Just the one paying."

"Ohhhh," she says with a gasp, eyes twinkling with amusement as she resumes working on your fingers. "That's new."

You blink at her. "What is?"

She chuckles softly as she buffs the surface of your cracked nail, now softened and prepped for a fresh layer of polish. "It's rare for an Omega to come in for nails, you know. Especially without a bond. Most of them don't bother once they've settled, or their Alpha handles appointments for practicality. But when they do come in?" She leans in with a whispery grin. "The Alphas don't wait outside. They call. Bark orders. Or sit inside and stare at the clock. I barely get through the second coat before they're knocking on the door asking how much longer."

You glance toward the window again. Jay is still there. Same position, same scowl, waiting.

"And when that happens," the designer continues, blowing gently over your fingertips, "I get a heads-up from the customer to charge three hundred dollars instead of sixty."

You blink. "What?"

She giggles. "Because they don't ask. They just pay." She shrugs, placing a gentle fingertip under your wrist to turn your hand slightly. "But yours? He handed the card over and even said to 'fix it properly,' and then waited outside."

You glance at the window again. Jay is still there, standing beneath the soft golden hue of the salon's lights bleeding through the glass. There's no sign of impatience in his posture, no fidgeting, no checking the time on his phone.

"He's not my Alpha," you reply, eyes on him.

A sudden spark of lights behind your eyes, paired with a smile that starts curling at the corner of your mouth.

"I'd like to change the design of my nails, please," you say, turning back to the nail artist, eyes gleaming.

"Oh?" she blinks. "I though we're just going to fix your nails?"

You simply shake your head and pull up a new image on your phone. "Not anymore."

You show her a new set: longer tips, alternating pink and pale green, soft chrome underlay, two nails with tiny gold foil hearts, and the rest glazed with a delicate sparkle that catches the light like fairy dust.

It takes longer than it should. And you don't care one bit. You hum along to the salon music, giggle when the tech turns your hand to show you the finished look, and snap a picture to send to Ningning.

By the time you push the door open, the sky has started to shift into sunset. The second you step out, you flex your fingers in front of you with delight, admiring the glossy finish and gold flecks. You're practically glowing.

Jay looks up from his phone. "You said you were just going to get it fixed," he says, his voice low, but not hard, not annoyed.

You glance at him and catch the way his gaze lingers on your hands. His eyes move slowly, following the way your fingers fan in the air. And though his expression doesn't give much away, you feel it: the attention, the awareness.

"My natural nails were showing," you say with a casual shrug, the corners of your lips lifting. "So I decided to get a new design."

You twirl your wrist once for emphasis, watching the gold hearts flash under the salon lights now trailing out onto the pavement. "Aren't they cute?"

Jay doesn't respond immediately. His eyes are on your nails, then your face, then back to your nails again. His jaw shifts, like he's about to say something but it never comes.

Instead, he just says, after a beat, "Yeah."

You can't help it, your lips curve into a soft, delighted smile, and a giggle slips past your throat. The sound is light, genuine, your Omega responds instinctively, pleased by the subtle approval, the calm energy humming from him. A soft purr begins to rise in your chest.

Jay doesn't comment on it, but you notice the faint glance he casts your way, a quick flick of his eyes before he slides his phone into his pocket.

As the two of you walk down the sidewalk, when the pavement narrows, he moves slightly ahead of you, then subtly angles his body so you're walking on the inside, closer to the storefronts and farther from the road.

THE NEXT few days aren't as bad as you expected. It's just the relief of not having another academic interrogation session with Jay. You breathe easier. You don't flinch when your phone buzzes. You even start sleeping without checking the group chat at 4 A.M. for passive-aggressive updates.

But of course, that peace doesn't last.

Because right when you've settled into the comfort of thinking maybe you're out of this, Jay appears again dropping a printed sheet onto your desk without so much as a warning.

You stare down at the familiar format, your section highlighted in faded yellow, some of it annotated in his godawful sharp handwriting. Your brow twitches, your mouth falls slightly open.

"I said I left the group," you snap, glaring up at him with disbelief. "I told you. I'm not doing this."

Jay doesn't blink. "I'm the group leader. You don't get to decide that."

Your jaw clenches. "Are you serious right now?"

"The presentation's in less than a week," he says. "If you want to walk out after that, go ahead. But until then? You're still on the list."

You huff, slamming the paper onto the table with far more drama than necessary. Still, he's not being cruel. Not sarcastic. Just... irritatingly direct. Which, honestly, is worse in some ways. At least when he was mean, you could hate him without confusion.

You cancel another hangout, another meeting gets scheduled. You text your friends a dozen half-bitter emojis and a fake promise to reschedule, then you drag yourself back to that too-bright room with its flickering ceiling light and cold whiteboard.

And there he is.

Jay. Seated at the far end of the table, flipping through slides and adjusting his notes. But what makes it worse—so much worse—is what you see next.

Two Omegas from another department are seated nearby, whispering with smiles on their lips, occasionally leaning closer to Jay's side of the table. One of them flips her hair unnecessarily, another giggles at something he mutters. And the worst part? He lets them.

He talks back. Calm and patient, not once does he snap or look annoyed. When one of them asks for help adjusting her outline, he glances at it and actually helps her—politely.

You fold your arms tightly across your chest and glare holes into the edge of the desk. He's so relaxed. So damn calm. When he corrects them, his tone is gentle.

What about you? Where was that gentleness for you? Why didn't he speak like that when you were trying?

If you hadn't cried... would he have ever treated you differently?

"The meeting hasn't even started and you're already having another mood up," Jay says, sliding into the seat beside you.

You don't look at him. Instead, you roll your eyes and flip your hair over your shoulder, pretending to focus on your untouched notes while your fingers drum silently on the table.

"Maybe don't take it personally," you say coolly, keeping your gaze forward. "I have moods without your help, thanks."

He makes a sound—half a scoff, half a hum—and leans back in his chair, one leg stretched out a little too far beneath the table, invading your space.

You huff, snapping your gaze toward him. "Why are you even here, anyway?" Your voice is sharp with irritation, your hand rising instinctively to push against his arm in a shooing gesture. "Go sit somewhere else. Far from me."

Your fingers press lightly to his shoulder, trying to shove him away with far less force than your words imply but of course, he doesn't move an inch. Jay stays firmly planted in his seat, turning his head slowly toward you.

"This is my seat," he says, tone unbothered. "And I'm the group leader."

He gestures vaguely toward the front of the room, where a few other group members are still settling in, some half-glancing your way with interest, clearly sensing the tension as it builds, again, between the two of you.

"So?" you snap, turning to glare at him again. "I don't care. Go sit somewhere else."

Jay doesn't even flinch. He just lifts one shoulder in the barest shrug, as if your words were nothing more than background noise, and proceeds to adjust his laptop and flip open his folder.

You scoff loudly, dramatic on purpose, making sure it carries across the room. But of course, it gets you nowhere. Jay begins the meeting laying out the agenda.

You lean back in your seat, annoyed and done with pretending to care. You don't hear a word of what he's saying. Instead, you pop open your notebook and flip to a blank page, yanking a glittery pen from your pouch. You start doodling out of habit—little flowers, cartoon hearts, bunny ears, some sparkles near the corners.

Your pen drifts to the center of the page, and you write your name in big, curly letters. You add hearts around it. A tiny tiara on top. You smile softly to yourself.

Almost without thinking, your hand moves again.

You write his name. Park Jongseong

Small. Lower than yours. Your pen pauses.

Then you grin. You begin crossing out the common letters between your name and his, counting the ones that remain.

You mutter under your breath, "F... L... A... M... E... S..."

Your pulse quickens as you count through the acronym, matching the number of leftover letters.

And then you land on it.

L- Lovers.

Heat rushes into your cheeks, flooding your face, suddenly horrified at your own middle-school-level behavior.

You quickly scratch a line through the whole thing, snapping the notebook closed. Jay turns his head toward you, his eyes narrow faintly. You roll your eyes immediately, slouching down in your seat and pretending nothing happened, praying your scent doesn't betray the flush still prickling your skin.

He watches you for another second, eyes narrowing slightly like he's almost figured it out—then turns back to the group, resuming the discussion without a word.

Lovers. Well, you hate that idea.

⋮ ⌗ act six

YOU DON'T even know how it got to this point. How your days used to be peaceful without his presence, and now every hour near him feels like a quiet war between your pride and your Omega instincts.

Yes, your Omega purrs when he's close. Yes, there's a pull you feel in your chest that doesn't seem to respond to reason. That strange heat low in your belly, the calm that settles around you every time his scent brushes past your skin—it's all real. And yes, part of you feels it might be bond. That terrifying, delicate whisper of compatibility.

But you will never forget how he treated you. How he made you feel small and stupid. How he picked apart your efforts like they were inconveniences. How he barely looked at you unless you were crying or crumbling. You try to remind yourself of all of that now, as you sit at the edge of the room, your leg bouncing, compact mirror in one hand, lip gloss in the other. But it's hard—so hard—when you look up and see him.

Jay. His hair is slicked back neatly, exposing that unfairly sculpted face, those sharp cheekbones that could cut glass. His glasses sit low on his nose, and he pushes them up with two fingers—the same fingers you just found yourself staring at for far too long. They're long, veined, strong. So sexy.

You glare at your mirror, annoyed with your reflection. Screw your Omega for having such high standards. Selective, sensitive, spoiled instincts—and it chooses him? Of course it does!

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, trying to look casual, pretending you're just focused on your appearance. But your Omega shifts restlessly beneath your skin, picking up on the subtle stress in the room. You're not the only one reacting—other Omegas are nervous, too. Their scent clouds the air, full of unease. It's enough to make your skin twitch.

That's why the professors decided to separate the rooms. Alphas in one, Omegas and Betas in another. It was supposed to make things more manageable. Less hormonal mess. But it doesn't stop the other Omegas from eyeing Jay as he passes through the door.

You watch as two of them flutter their lashes, practically sighing in his direction. Like they think he'll turn and offer them some comforting word. Maybe a calming touch. You snort under your breath and roll your eyes, brushing a fleck of highlighter from the corner of your cheek. Heh. Do they expect him to soothe them? Not a chance.

"Can you all calm your fuck-ass selves down? Geez, it smells so weird in here." You mutter under your breath, wrinkling your nose in full disgust as the wave of distress pheromones builds again around the room. It's a mix of nervousness and poorly concealed anxiety and it's ruining your makeup mood. With a sigh, you grab your perfume bottle from your bag and spritz it into the air.

You roll your eyes again when another Omega releases a second burst of distressed pheromones. It's always the same ones too—biting their nails, fanning themselves, looking around like an Alpha is going to walk in and magically tell them everything's fine. You pull your collar slightly up, shielding your nose, and shake your head.

You decide to tune out, popping your phone out to scroll through your gallery, pretending you're anywhere but here. You check your reflection in the black screen, turn the camera on just to make sure your eyeliner hasn't smudged, then swipe open your beauty folder to admire the selfie you took yesterday with your freshly done nails. That alone settles you better than any scent could.

Another minute ticks by. You sigh and fish out your compact mirror again, tapping a bit of powder under your eyes, then dabbing a blush-tinted balm across your cheeks. A slick of gloss on your lips finishes the look, and you smile at yourself.

But when you begin to organize your bag—tucking your phone into its pocket, snapping your powder closed—you pause.

Then freeze. Your fingers sift through the bag again, more urgently this time. Compact, wallet, charger, lip tint, another gloss, perfume bottle, travel brush...

Your heart starts to beat faster. No. Your hand dives deeper, digging through the small pocket, then the zipper compartment. You pull everything out and lay it on the table in front of you.

Gone. It's fucking gone. Your Swan Ballet Flower Knows hair clip!

The one Ningning gave you for your birthday. The one that matches your current nail design. The one you literally wore this morning.

"Fuck," you whisper, eyes wide, chest tightening. You pat your head, your pockets, your bag again, but it's not there.

The air shifts. Your scent, which had been calm and delicately sweet with your perfume, now spikes full of frustration and distress.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of the Beta boys beside you asks cautiously, his brow furrowed as he catches the sudden change in your scent. "Are you nervous?"

"No," you snap, still rummaging through your bag, tossing a pen and your lip gloss back into it with force. "Fuck off."

The Beta holds his hands up, muttering, "Okay, damn," before sliding his chair just slightly away from you.

"Did someone see my baby blue ribbon hair clip?!" you call out, a little louder now, nearly breathless as you look around the room, eyes scanning every desk, every chair, every bag.

"H-Hey, calm down," one of the nearby Omegas says gently, reaching out with an awkward hand, trying to soothe. But the second her fingers brush your arm, you slap her hand away without thinking, eyes wild and furious.

"Shut up!" you snap, voice cracking. "Don't fucking tell me to do shit!"

A wave of your scent bursts out. It was acidic with panic and anger. It's enough to make the others shift uncomfortably, their own scents flaring in reaction. You're frantic now, pacing the space between the tables, swiping aside books, opening bags that aren't yours before realizing what you're doing. Your hands tremble as you search under a desk, and when you straighten back up, your eyes are glassy. Your lower lip quivers, forming a tight, desperate pout.

You blink fast, but it's no use. The tears are there, threatening to spill.

The door suddenly opens, and Jay walks in with a bothered and confused in his eyes. Immediately, the room straightens. People hush. Even the air seems to still.

"What is happening?" he asks, brows furrowed as he takes sight of the room, the overturned bags, the tension heavy in the air and then his eyes land on you.

You unraveling, being frantic, teetering.

He strides toward you, cutting through the space between tables. Without hesitation, his hands find your shoulders softly. You blink up at him, trying to bite down on your emotions, but your throat tightens further under the weight of his presence. His brows draw in closer when he sees your expression—your glossy eyes, your flushed cheeks, your trembling mouth.

"M-my clip is m-missing," you whisper, barely holding your voice together. "The Flower Knows one. The baby blue..."

You can't finish. Your chest heaves, a sob barely swallowed down. You try to inhale sharply through your nose, but it only floods you with more of your distress. Jay closes his eyes, jaw tight as he rubs a hand down his face in exasperation at the spiral you're falling into. His Alpha is reacting instantly, tension building in his shoulders, his posture coiled with the weight of your unfiltered panic.

He opens his eyes again and looks down at you. "You're this worked up over a clip?"

You nod, a tiny motion, but desperate. "It's not just a clip. It's mine. Ningning gave it to me. I wore it today. I—I need it."

Jay breathes out through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly as he processes the full weight of your panic. Without another word, he turns his head sharply to the room.

"Everyone," he says, commanding. "Stop what you're doing and check around your desks. Bags, floor, jackets—everything."

No one speaks. No one even thinks about arguing. The entire room shifts, heads ducking, hands moving, chairs scraping quietly as people begin to search exactly where he told them to. Jay's hands slide down from your shoulders, and he moves beside you, quietly steering you toward the hallway. His hand stays on the small of your back, anchoring you as he leads you out of the overwhelming scent-thick room.

Outside, the air is cooler. The moment you're free of the enclosed space, you feel your body tremble in a release of breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Jay steps in front of you, hands still light but steady on your arms, you feel his scent shift, soothing, that that makes your Omega instincts sigh from under the anxiety.

"God," he breathes out, more to himself than to you, pressing his palm briefly over his forehead before it drops to your back again. "I thought something actually happened to you."

Your forehead drop into his shoulder, your face burying in the soft cotton of his shirt, the scent of him wrapping around you. He sighs again, hand moving in slow, steady circles along your spine.

"You need to stop crying," he murmurs into your hair, trying to sound stern, but it comes out gentler than it should. He pauses, lets out another breath. "You're going to short-circuit every Alpha in the building with your pheromones."

"I need my hair clip," you say into his shoulder, voice muffled, watery, and heavy with emotion. "It was the only thing that made me feel pretty today."

Jay's hand stills on your back. He doesn't say anything at first, like he's trying to figure out what to do with that sentence.

Finally, he moves again. "We're going to find your hair clip," he says. "Just... stop throwing tantrums."

One thing's for sure, Jay is exhausted. You can see it in the tension in his shoulders, the faint crease between his brows, the sighs he thinks you don't hear. He's tired of your tantrums, your attitude, your dramatics, your endless emotions.

You don't have the energy to question it anymore—why he's the one calming you down, why his presence, of all people, is what your Omega keeps clinging to. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense.

The rest of the day passes in a dull, gray blur. Your clip was never found. Your mood tanked. The presentation came and went, and you barely remember how you spoke or whether your words even made sense. You didn't shine. You didn't sparkle. You didn't even get a single compliment on your outfit, and by now, you're convinced your eyeliner is probably smudged beyond repair.

You expect it—Jay's frustration. You've seen it before. You're braced for the moment he corners you, arms crossed, brows furrowed, ready to lay into you with that cold, composed tone that always makes you feel twelve years old and three inches tall.

But it never comes.

You're sitting alone on the back stairs behind the building, eyes unfocused, arms draped over your knees, the wind ruffling your hair slightly as you stare into nothing. You've taken off your shoes, letting the cool stone press against your heels. Your bag is a mess. Your gloss is gone. Your scent, now flat and dulled by defeat, barely lingers in the air.

Jay appears beside you, quiet as ever, lowering himself onto the step next to you. He doesn't speak at first, doesn't sigh or scold or even look at you. Just sits.

You blink and glance sideways, lips parting to speak. "I know I messed up my part," you say quietly. "I already told you I'm sorry. No need to make me feel this bad—"

"I found your clip."

You blink. Jay pulls something out from his coat pocket. A small baby blue satin with gold trim and a little flower-shaped crystal that glitters in the soft light. "I went back to the hallway after the rooms were cleared," he says, tone casual, almost bored. He sets it in your hand.

You stare down at it, fingers curling slowly around the familiar shape. Your vision blurs instantly. "You—" your voice cracks, and you clear your throat, trying to hold it together. "You really went back for it?"

Jay leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed ahead. "I figured if I didn't, you'd tear down the whole school."

You burst into laughter and then, just as quickly, into tears. Before you can stop yourself, your body moves on its own, throwing itself into him with a weight that startles even you. Your arms wrap around his middle, face pressing into the side of his chest as another wave of laughter and tears shakes through you.

You can feel the tension ripple through him, every muscle going stiff like he wasn't built for this kind of contact. He lets out a long, quiet sigh, and then his arms slowly move. One drapes around your shoulders with hesitation, the other lifts awkwardly before landing a stiff, uncertain pat on your back.

It's the most awkward hug in the universe.

Your tears are light, your Omega purrs radiates through your skin. The air shifts, your scent changes into soft and sweet wrapping around the both of you.

Jay breathes it in and his body instantly relaxes, just a little. He just sits there, letting you sob against him while your Omega hums in contentment, pleased that—for once—it wasn't wrong about him.

He's still not the Alpha you dreamed of. He's cold, awkwad and complicated. But, you think... he's okay?

⋮ ⌗ act seven

"HE definitely likes you."

You roll your eyes at Ningning's voice as you carefully curl your lashes in front of the mirror in the girls' comfort room. You keep your focus steady on your reflection, refusing to acknowledge the glint of mischief in your best friend's eyes.

"If I were still the delusional girl I used to be," you mutter, lashes releasing from the curler, "then maybe I'd let myself believe that."

Ningning lets out a dramatic huff from where she's leaning against the sink, arms crossed but clearly enjoying this more than she should. "Come on! Even Giselle agrees now—and you know she's allergic to optimism."

You don't answer. Instead, you reach for your mascara, unscrewing the tube with steady fingers, and begin sweeping it through your lashes. You focus on each slow stroke, using the rhythm to drown out the flutter in your chest.

"Seriously," Ningning says, She leans closer against the counter beside you, folding her arms with that all-knowing gleam in her eye. "What type of Alpha would go out of his way to calm you down over a missing clip? A hair clip, girl. It's not like it was a life-or-death situation."

"It was a Flower Knows clip," you say, still brushing your lashes without missing a beat.

"Exactly," she deadpans, then scoffs. "A Flower Knows clip is like eight bucks. And you—Miss Chanel, Miss Limited Edition Lip Oil, Miss I Only Drink Matcha If It's Imported—you could replace that clip five times over."

You pause, blinking at your reflection. "He didn't have to find it," she continues. "But he did. He went back. He picked it up. He brought it to you, and you know Jay's not the type to do stuff like that. He barely blinks at people."

You glance sideways at her, lips twitching. "Maybe he just felt bad," you mutter, setting the mascara wand down. "Like that other time I cried in the gym and practically soaked his shirt. Maybe he just has a guilty conscience."

"Girl," Ningning groans, throwing her head back. "That man does not do things out of guilt. He does things because he means to. Jay isn't the type to play pretend. If he didn't want to deal with you, he wouldn't."

You fidget with your gloss now, unscrewing the cap but not applying it yet. Ningning steps in closer, placing both hands on your shoulders and spinning you gently toward her.

"Just make a move again," she says. "This time, don't cry first. Just be bold. You are bold. You're all glitter and gloss and crazy perfume names. He's just... stuck in his own head. Maybe you have to shake him out of it."

You snap the cap back on your gloss and toss it into your bag with more force than necessary, jaw tight. "Shut up," you mutter, "I'm not going to be broken-hearted again."

And you mean it. You swear you mean it. You're done with chasing. No one, not even Ningning with her relentless optimism, can convince you otherwise.

But then the universe, in its favorite tradition, decides to humiliate you anyway.

You're late. Because of course you are. Your package—your limited edition, out-of-stock-everywhere Flower Knows powder compact—finally arrived, and there was no way you were missing the delivery. Not when you'd already cried once this semester. So yes, you're late. But you're late looking good.

You strut into the lecture hall, tote bag slung over your shoulder, heels clicking until your eyes fall on your seat. Your seat. The one next to Ningning, the only tolerable spot in the entire damn classroom.

And sitting in it was Yeonjun.

"What the fuck," you hiss, marching over, already reaching to swing your bag off your shoulder. "Get out of my seat, loser." You kick his foot under the table.

Yeonjun just laughs, dragging out a pout. "Relax, princess. It's just a chair." He tilts his chin, gesturing toward the only empty seat left in the room. "That one's free. Enjoy."

You follow the line of his smug finger. Your stomach sinks. Of course the only available seat is next to Jay—stone-faced, hyper-focused, glasses on, notebook already open, refusing to even glance up.

"Fuck you," you growl under your breath, kicking Yeonjun again—harder this time—before straightening up, your eyes narrowing in betrayal at Ningning, who's already failing to hide her grin behind her notebook.

"Miss," the professor calls from the front, already halfway into his introduction. "You're late. Care to sit down already?"

You grit your teeth, casting one last glare at the two traitors pretending to be your friends, then march down the row and plop down into the seat beside Jay, the sound of your bag dropping beside you far louder than necessary.

You're not here for him. You're here because Yeonjun's an ass, because the universe hates you, and because the professor called you out in front of the whole class.

But still, your Omega, ever the traitor, is practically curled up in delight beside him, soothed by the way he hasn't even acknowledged you, his scent like a steady anchor in a sea of your annoyance.

You grumble under your breath and shift in your seat, opening your notebook with a loud, irritated flick of your wrist. You pretend to read a line from the handout, then, without thinking, reach into your bag and pull out the one thing guaranteed to bring you joy: your brand-new compact powder.

The packaging is perfect. You run your finger lightly over the embossed strawberry on the front, admiring the pearlescent detail. You smile to yourself, the tension in your shoulders melting just a little.

If you were sitting next to Ningning right now, you'd be yapping. Nonstop. Yapping about how this compact was almost impossible to find, how you tracked it across two continents and seven different sold-out websites. And to be fair, you'd yap with anyone—about lip tints, palettes, perfume layering combinations, finish textures, and highlighter formulas. You live for the details.

So, of course, you can't help yourself now even with Jay sitting next to you. "I didn't get the whole set," you begin, voice charged with the thrill of finally talking about something you care about. "Because, like, sometimes Flower Knows won't ship directly here, and some bitches already hoarded the preorder."

Jay doesn't move.

"But guess what," you continue, tapping his arm lightly with your nail before holding up the compact in your palm. "I finally got the powder, and it is so cute. Like, look at this texture. It's shaped like whipped cream frosting. And—oh my God—smell this."

You pause, opening your pouch again, digging through until you find the matching tube. "Also, I bought their lipstick too. The one from the Swan Ballet line. It smells like candy clouds, but also slightly floral. Honestly, it's genius. I kind of want to buy another one just to keep it in the box—"

You stop mid-sentence with the lipstick tube held in front of you. Jay turned his head, his eyes are on you, listening.

And you realize you've been yapping. You blink, lips still parted, frozen with your product halfway. Then he blinks, turns his head back to his notes, and says quietly—

"Keep going."

The words are so simple, so softly said, that you almost think you imagined them. Your heart flips in your chest. Your Omega lets out a pleased little purr that almost makes your spine tingle.

"And then," you whisper, "I found a reseller who didn't charge triple the price, and I swear to you, Jay, it was like fate."

And then it becomes a thing.

Every damn time, without fail, Ningning and Yeonjun pull their little stunt. They laugh, wink, and somehow, through force, they make sure your seat ends up next to Jay. One of them will be "saving your seat" only to abandon it the moment you enter, or "accidentally" block it with a pile of books. And every time, you glare, you groan, you curse under your breath.

But you still sit next to him. You tell yourself you don't want to talk. That you'll just sit in silence, that this time you won't fall back into the same pattern. That your Omega will behave. That you will behave.

And then you open your mouth anyway.

You start rambling about the new things you bought, or how underpriced the campus café is, or how this semester's syllabus is personally trying to kill you. Sometimes you don't even know what you're saying—just that he's listening, and somehow that makes you talk more. And every time, Jay just sits there, occasionally replying, sometimes looking at you.

You don't even realize when it happens when the tension begins to fade, when your Omega starts curling softly in contentment. It's like your body is choosing to forget. Forget all the ways he made you feel ignored. Forget the moments he brushed you off, dismissed you, didn't care.

"Smell this," you say one day, voice light and sweet as you pull your sleeve up and offer him your wrist. "It's my new Jo Malone—Wild Bluebell with a hint of Peony and Blush Suede. I think it fits well with my natural scent, don't you think?"

Jay doesn't even flinch. He reaches out, gently holding your wrist between two fingers. His head lowers, slowly, and his nose brushes just above your pulse point.

It's subtle but his scent deepens, and grows warmer. Like his Alpha side responded before he could think it through.

You giggle. You fucking giggle, and your Omega purrs without shame, flooding the air with the soft, pleased lilt of someone finally receiving attention they've craved for too long.

He blinks slowly, releases your wrist, clears his throat. He turns back to his notebook like nothing happened.

Jay is not the Alpha your Omega deserves. No matter how many times your instincts try to paint over the truth, you remember. You remember the way he ignored your efforts, dismissed your excitement, and made you feel like you were just noise. Your Omega might conveniently purr every time he's near, lulled by the safety of his scent or the quiet steadiness of his presence, but your heart? Your mind? They haven't forgotten a single bruise.

It's infuriating how easily your instincts betray you. How they curl toward him, like he deserves you—like he's ever earned the softness your body keeps offering without your permission.

And Jay, for all his cool-headed composure and sharp intelligence, doesn't make it easier. He never explains himself. He just shows up beside you, around you, in all the quiet corners where you swore you'd stop caring and somehow keeps slipping beneath your guard again. Like he knows he doesn't need to try, because your Omega has already made the decision for you.

What's wrong with him, anyway?

Why is he always so composed, so perfectly infuriating? Why can't he just say what he wants? Be blunt, be cruel, be anything instead of this calm, silent wall you keep crashing into. And you—you're doing it again.

You're showing him the new earrings you ordered from a Korean boutique. Rambling about the shade match of a concealer that finally works for your undertones. Talking about the sale that's coming up and which perfumes you plan to layer next. He doesn't interrupt, doesn't mock, doesn't even look annoyed. Just lets you talk while he listens in that quiet way.

But the entire time, a weight builds in your chest. A creeping fear.

What if he gets annoyed again? What if this—all of this comfort, this strange new rhythm you've found ends the moment you say too much? What if he gets tired of you again, pulls away again, tells you you're too much?

What if he says it's time to leave him alone?

That fear clutches at your chest, and it hurts in a way you can't explain. Because the last time he rejected you—even indirectly—you swore you wouldn't give him another chance to do it again. You swore you'd protect yourself. That you'd stop offering pieces of your joy to someone who never asked for them.

But here you are. Sitting next to him. Talking like he hasn't shattered you before. Laughing like your Omega isn't already begging for something deeper.

Make him yours, your Omega whispers again, insistent and eager, like it hasn't learned a damn thing.

But you're exhausted. Emotionally wrung out. And today, you wake up already irritated.

The sunlight filters too harshly through your curtains, clinging to your skin. The room is warm, your sheets twisted, your silk pillowcase thrown somewhere on the floor, and your hair—your perfect blowout—looks nothing like what it was when you fell asleep. The ends are flat, the roots are puffy, and there's a weird dent on the side from sleeping too hard. You stand in front of your mirror for twenty minutes trying to fix it, but no amount of brushing or oil can save it.

Your closet stares back at you with the same smug silence it always has. You try on three outfits, one after the other, but nothing feels right. One's too stiff. The other clings wrong. The third is fine—but fine is not how you want to look when the world's already pulling at your nerves.

So you give up.

You toss your clothes onto your bed in frustration, pull on the safest thing you can find, and leave your room without bothering to match your lip gloss to your top. You're annoyed, tired, and in no mood to deal with your usual routine of being put-together. You skip your first class without a second thought—no one was taking attendance anyway—and instead sulk in your favorite café, sipping iced matcha that tastes too bitter and scrolling through your phone like it'll fix something.

By the time your second lecture rolls around, you're still not in the mood. You step into the room later than usual, ignoring the way some of your classmates glance up. You don't care. You don't scan the rows for him. You just go straight to the back, dropping your bag onto the seat beside you and pulling your phone out.

"Fuck off," you hissed when you hear footsteps approach and see Yeonjun and Ningning out of the corner of your eye.

Yeonjun raises both hands. "Damn, chill, princess. I was just gonna ask why you're back here."

You shoot him a glare. "I thought you and Jay were good again," he adds, eyebrows raised. "Did he breathe wrong or something?"

"Fuck. Off." you growl again. Your fingers tighten around your cup, the condensation sliding between your skin and the plastic.

"Okay, okay—calm down," he mutters, retreating with exaggerated caution. "God, I think I know what's coming with you."

You roll your eyes but don't respond. Because he's not wrong. You already know what's happening.

The ache behind your eyes, the restless way your Omega keeps curling and stretching like it's searching for something—or someone. Your scent has started to shift subtly and the minute it hit the air, you knew it wouldn't be long. You can feel it coming in. Your pre-heat.

Your Omega can't even wait for it. It's already humming at the idea of being close to him again, already reacting to memories of his scent, his presence, his voice. Your control is fraying at the edges, and you hate it. You hate how easily your body turns traitor.

You've skipped half the day now, letting yourself exist in the quieter part of campus, tucked on the familiar stairwell where the lectures can't reach you. Where your makeup-free face, your messy ponytail, and your emotional disarray don't need to perform for anyone. You sit with your legs folded close, your phone dimmed in your hand.

"You're skipping lecture again."

You already know it's Jay. No one else has a voice that smooth, that neutral, that sharp around the edges without trying to be. He settles beside you on the stairs.

"Fuck off," you mutter, eyes still focused on nothing, fingers idly picking at the hem of your sleeve. But your Omega stirs anyways.

"You're not wearing makeup today." It's not a compliment. Not an insult either. Just a flat observation.

"Fuck off," you repeat.

He doesn't move. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

"Fuck off."

Jay's mouth shuts without resistance. The silence between you grows. You keep your face buried in the crook of your arm, knees drawn to your chest like you can fold yourself out of existence if you just hold tight enough. You don't want to look at him. You don't want to see whatever look he's wearing.

You're done reading his silences like they owe you answers. So why the hell is he here? The lecture isn't over. There's no reason for him to be outside with you, sitting in this stairwell like it means something.

"Do you want to drink some matcha? I noticed it's your—"

You lift your head abruptly, eyes flashing with frustration, and he stops mid-sentence. "I don't know what you want from me," you cut in, "Or why you're suddenly acting like you care. Why you keep showing up every single time I go distress."

Jay doesn't move, but something in his expression flickers. You stand up before he can respond, grabbing your bag in a quick, jerky motion, stuffing your things back inside with clumsy hands. Your breath is uneven. You hate how tight your chest feels, how your Omega keeps curling in confusion, still wanting to stay close despite everything your brain knows.

"If this is about you feeling guilty," you say, your voice cracking against the emotion climbing in your throat, "then congratulations. You're forgiven. For everything."

You hoist your bag onto your shoulder, your back turned now as you take a step down the stairs. "Leave me alone," you add without looking at him. "It's annoying. We're not even friends."

And with that, you walk away.

1K notes · View notes

ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

✩ˎˊ˗ between the shelves ( sjy ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 18.7k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, alpha!jake, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, strangers to lovers trope, kinda oblivious!jake, jake is in love-love, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — as the only son of a prestigious family and the student council secretary, sim jaeyun—or as his friends like to call him: jake has always been at the top. admired, respected, and burdened by responsibility. he’s used to handling everything himself, ensuring perfection in all that he does. and then there was you, someone he had always seen but never had the chance to approach, until fate handed him the opportunity. hiding from relentless admirers, he found himself in the library, where, to his surprise, you weren’t just another passing face. jake has always adored the idea of having a mate, but he never rushed fate, until you. before he knows it, meetings no longer hold his full attention, tasks he once insisted on doing himself are left to others, all so he can be near you.

A thick, leather-bound book rested in Jake’s hands, the pages filled with intricate Old English that he absorbed with minimal effort. The world outside didn’t exist in this moment. No expectations, no responsibilities, just the quiet hum of silence.

As a pureblooded Alpha born into wealth and status, moments like this were rare, but within the walls of the student council room, he could finally breathe.

His desk bore the title Council Secretary, and his scent of pine and oranges lingered in the air. His instincts, so accustomed to composure, were calm.

Until they weren’t.

The sharp bang of wooden doors slamming open shattered the silence, followed immediately by a heavy thud and the unmistakable sound of someone crashing onto the marble floor. A low growl echoed through the room, spilling through the air like a warning, but it was nothing Jake hadn’t heard before.

He shut his book with an irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can't even enjoy my mornings because of you mutts.”

Lifting his gaze, he saw Ni-ki sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain, while Jay towered over him, phone in hand, grinning so wide his sharp canines glinted under the lights.

“That was pathetic,” Jay snickered, snapping another picture of Ni-ki’s crumpled state. “Hold still, I need a better angle.”

“Go to hell,” Ni-ki grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows, glaring up at Jay like he was debating whether to lunge at him or play dead.

Jake sighed, setting his book down with patience before looking at them both with a deadpan stare. “If you two are done turning the council room into a wrestling ring, get out.”

Jay only grinned wider, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Relax your ass, Sim, we’re just having a little fun.”

Jake arched a brow. “And I was having a little peace. But as always, you two can’t seem to exist without disturbing the entire building.”

Ni-ki groaned again, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “For the record, I was thrown into the room.”

Jay shrugged. “You were in my way.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. Annoyed but amused, he couldn’t fight the small smile. This was routine, his peace ruined before the day even began. With a sigh, he leaned back. “Where are the others?”

Jay offered a hand to Ni-ki, easily pulling the younger Alpha up with no effort. As he did, he casually answered Jake’s question. “Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jungwon are with their mates doing God knows what, and yeah, we're here, I guess.” He shot a look at Ni-ki, who was brushing himself off, looking more disgruntled than hurt.

Ni-ki, still in the middle of recovering his pride, added, “Jungwon was asking what you'd like for breakfast too.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the polished wood of his desk. He took a second to think, then hummed. “Any sandwich and tea will do.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. “So Australian of you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, the smile still there. He couldn’t help it, his friends knew how to get under his skin but also how to make him laugh when he least expected it. “Fuck off,” he said with a laugh.

Jay and Ni-ki grinned before heading to their usual spots, each claiming their own desk within the spacious council room. They sprawled themselves out on the comfortable office chairs, limbs loose and postures unguarded, a contrast to the cold, poised way they carried themselves outside these walls.

Here, there was no need for their masks of control, no need to uphold the weight of their bloodlines with every carefully measured movement.

Jay leaned back, arms behind his head, his smirk fading into something more relaxed. Ni-ki, on the other hand, kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. There was no need for perfection here, no calculating gazes from the elders who measured their worth in status and tradition.

Jake watched them settle, his fingers still tapping absentmindedly against his desk. It was an unspoken truth between them—this was a place where they weren’t heirs weighed down by the legacies of their families.

Jay let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling. “So, what’s on the agenda today?” His voice was lazy, but there was curiosity beneath it.

Jake smirked, finally picking up his book again. “Not my problem until the first meeting starts. So, until then, entertain yourselves.” He flipped a page lazily before adding with a chuckle, “Besides, Jungwon’s the one holding it today.”

Jay let out a low whistle. “Poor guy.”

Ni-ki snorted. “He volunteered.”

“Still,” Jay stretched his arms over his head, “it’s cruel of you to let the kid handle all those reports first thing in the morning.”

Jake barely spared him a glance, amusement flickering in his eyes. “He’s the council president. He can handle it.”

Ni-ki hummed in agreement, already reclining further into his chair. “Fair point.”

Their silence was short-lived.

“Babe, I swear it wasn’t me!”

The frantic plea was followed by the sound of hurried footsteps before the doors were slammed open, again.

Sunoo stumbled into the room, half-dragged by Sunghoon’s sister, who had his wrist in an iron grip. Her eyes burned with fury, a stark contrast to Sunoo’s desperate expression as he tried and failed to reason with her.

Behind them, three familiar Omegas rushed in, all trying to calm her down, but their efforts were useless. She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

The rest of the council members, scattered around the room, barely reacted, other than to smirk at the scene unfolding before them.

Jay leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Well, this is new. Usually, Sunoo's the one doing the chasing.”

Ni-ki snickered. “What did he even do?”

Sunoo shot them both a panicked look. “I didn't do anything!”

Sunghoon’s sister tightened her grip, making the pink-haired Alpha yelp. “Liar.”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, snapping his book shut with a dull thud before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Every damn morning with you people.”

Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jungwon strolled in, Jungwon balancing a tray of drinks while Heeseung and Sunghoon carried bags of food. Sunghoon placed his down on the table with a lazy smirk. “Yeah, because clearly, I’m the one who forgot her coffee order. Really, Kim?”

Heeseung snorted as he set his own bag down. “Man, you really dug your own grave this time.”

Ni-ki snickered. “Or, y’know, not let your mate plot your downfall first thing in the morning.”

Jake shook his head, leaning back in his chair, already done with the day despite it barely starting. “Someone just make sure they don’t destroy the place before the first meeting.”

Jungwon, the only one actually preparing for said meeting, sighed. “Not my job.”

This was gonna be a long day.

Jake sat at his desk, his chin propped up on one hand as he lazily flipped through his book. His classroom wasn’t exactly his first choice for a hangout spot, but with an hour to kill before class started, the others had somehow decided it was the perfect place to loiter.

Heeseung and Jay were sprawled on the desks near the window, bickering over something trivial. Sunghoon sat with his arms crossed, seemingly unbothered, while Ni-ki stole Jungwon’s notebook, flipping through it with fake curiosity. Sunoo was slumped in a chair, spinning a pen between his fingers, looking as if he was ready to nap at any second.

The rest of the students in the room? Staring.

Seven pureblooded Alphas gathered in one place was enough to make anyone second-guess their presence. To most, they weren’t just intimidating—they were untouchable. A different breed entirely. Powerful, respected, envied. Gods among the mortals.

Jay stretched, letting out a loud yawn. “Y’know, for a guy who complains about us ruining his peace, you sure don’t kick us out.”

Jake didn’t even glance up from his book. “Because you’d just follow me somewhere else.”

Sunghoon snorted. “He’s got a point.”

Ni-ki, still flipping through Jungwon’s notes, suddenly looked up. “So, what’s the plan? We just sit here and let people gawk at us for the next hour?”

Sunoo groaned, tilting his head back. “Sounds exhausting.”

Jake sighed, shutting his book with a quiet thud. He knew better than to expect a moment of true peace when his friends were involved.

Jungwon tapped his fingers against the desk, glancing at the clock before looking around at the others. “We could go out and eat an early lunch or something.”

Jay, still balanced on the back legs of his chair, stretched his arms over his head. “Tempting, but do I look like I wanna move?”

Heeseung smirked. “Or… we could buy a new car.”

For a second, the room was silent. Then, with zero hesitation, the rest of them hummed in agreement.

“We should,” Sunghoon said, nodding as if it were the most logical idea.

“Yeah,” Ni-ki added, “we definitely should.”

Jake leaned back, unimpressed. “You guys can barely get out of those chairs.”

Sunoo, still twirling his pen between his fingers, shot Jake a lazy grin. “Exactly. We have the money, the connections, the resources… but no energy.”

Jay sighed dramatically, rubbing a hand over his face. “Such is the burden of being rich.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Heeseung ignored him, leaning forward with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Okay, but if we were actually buying one, what are we thinking? Another sports car? Something imported?”

“I’m feeling a custom build,” Sunghoon mused, pretending to consider the idea.

Jay grinned. “We could each get one.”

“We could,” Ni-ki agreed, nodding sagely.

They all sat there for a second, deep in thought. Not a single one of them moved.

Jake smirked, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Jungwon shook his head, muttering under his breath before sitting up straighter. “Okay, so lunch?”

Sunoo waved a lazy hand. “Too much effort.”

Jay sighed, finally letting his chair drop back onto all four legs. “Then what? We just sit here and rot?”

“Pretty much,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

Jake, who had been half-listening while flipping through the last few pages of his book, finally closed it with a soft thud. He stretched his arms over his head, rolling out his shoulders. “Well, unlike you guys, I actually have something to do. Gotta return this.”

Jay raised a brow. “You need someone to come with you?”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not like Ni-ki. I can survive a walk to the library alone.”

Ni-ki, who had been aimlessly tapping his fingers against the desk, snapped his head up. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake just shot him a grin before swiftly making his exit, his laughter echoing down the hallway as the youngest grumbled under his breath.

Jay snickered, nudging Ni-ki with his foot. “You gonna take that?”

Ni-ki huffed, slumping further into his chair. “I’m letting him have his moment. He’s gonna trip on air soon enough, and when he does, I’ll be there.”

Sunghoon smirked. “I’ll pay to see that.”

Luminous shades of gold bled through the library windows, casting soft halos of light over towering shelves lined with countless books. Dust particles floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the gentle glow, as the faint scent of aged paper and ink settled like a quiet hum in the silence.

Jake’s slow steps echoed against the polished floor, the only sound aside from the occasional page turning or scratch of a pen. Most students were in class, leaving the library nearly empty, just the way he liked it.

With one hand shoved deep into his pocket and the other gripping a newly found book by some historical author he had always meant to read, he allowed himself to get lost in the moment.

His gaze trailed along the rows of shelves, taking in the endless spines of stories and knowledge, before drifting toward the farthest section of the library, where the soft rustling of pages caught his attention.

There was someone else here. You.

Your figure stood among the books, reaching up to return a few to their rightful place. The way your fingers traced the spines, the natural ease in your movements—it was almost mesmerizing. Like you belonged to this place, like the library itself was an extension of you.

His grip on his book tightened. Where had he seen you before?

His gaze lingered on the soft flush of your cheeks, the way your lips, plump and untouched by any trace of worry, parted ever so slightly as you focused on the books in your hands. Everything about you was delicate, and it made something inside him stir.

Jake swallowed, shaking his head as if to clear the sudden haze clouding his thoughts.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of a book slipping from your hands.

The moment it hit the ground never came; because he was already moving, instincts sharper than his own awareness. His fingers wrapped around the spine just in time, catching it with ease. The world around him blurred, fading into irrelevance as he looked up, only to find you reaching for it at the same time.

Your fingers brushed against his: warm, soft, fleeting. But it was enough. Enough for something to stir deep within him, a current running sharp and fast through his veins. His grip on the book tightened slightly before he forced himself to loosen it, finally handing it back to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice gentle, but it rang through his ears like a bell.

Jake swallowed. Up close, you were even more unreal than he had thought. The golden light framed you like you belonged to another world entirely.

And then, there was your scent.

Honey and seawater. Sweet, but fresh. Familiar yet foreign. It was intoxicating, wrapping around his senses and settling into his lungs like something meant to be there.

His own scent spiked before he could stop it—warm, rich, deep, like oranges and pine, crisp air after rain. Not overpowering, but enough. Enough to see your breath hitch, your lashes flutter as you blinked up at him.

Jake silently thanked the universe at that moment for making him a pureblooded Alpha. Because if he weren’t—if he didn’t have the control, the discipline, the sheer force of will ingrained into his very being, he might’ve done something reckless.

He might’ve stepped closer. Might’ve let himself breathe you in for a second longer. Might’ve said something that would betray the way his entire body was suddenly on high alert, every nerve tuned in to you.

But instead, he did what he did best. He played it off, a lazy smirk curving at the corner of his lips as if this moment hadn’t just turned his world on its axis.

“No problem,” he finally said, voice smooth, calculated.

He made sure his tone was effortless, made sure his expression stayed composed, like his heart wasn’t hammering against his ribs, like his senses weren’t still tangled up in the traces of your scent lingering in the air.

He let his gaze flicker over you one last time before he forced himself to look away, shifting his weight slightly, fingers drumming against the cover of his book as if his entire body wasn’t still hyper-aware of your presence.

You gave him a small nod, your lips curling into a polite smile before turning back to the shelves. And that should’ve been the end of it. That should’ve been his cue to walk away, to let this moment dissolve into nothing more than a short interaction.

But Jake didn’t move.

Instead, he stood there, gripping his book a little too tightly, watching as you reached for another volume on the top shelf, your fingers brushing against the spine with ease. He watched as a stray beam of light caught in your hair, making it glow, as if the sun itself had taken a liking to you. He watched the way your lashes fluttered when you scanned the titles, the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

And for the first time in a long time, Jake found himself at a complete loss.

He had met hundreds—thousands—of people. He had seen beauty in all forms, had been in the presence of those who were revered, admired, worshipped even. Yet somehow, none of them had ever managed to unravel him like this. None of them had ever made the air feel heavier, had ever made him question if he had truly seen them before, or if they had only existed in the parts of his mind he hadn’t dared explore.

Why did it feel like he should know you?

“You come here often?” The words left his mouth before he could think better of them, and for a second, he almost cringed at himself. He wasn’t that guy. He could do better than that.

You turned to him, one brow raised in mild amusement. “To the library?”

Jake chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay, that sounded dumb.”

“A little,” you teased, your lips curving into the softest smile. “But to answer your question, I do. I help here when I have free time.”

Something about that made too much sense. You belonged in a place like this, where everything was calm, where the scent of books and ink lingered in the air, where the golden light spilling through the windows made you look almost ethereal.

“Huh,” Jake mused, nodding.

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Why? You don’t come to the library often?”

“Only when I need to,” he admitted with a smirk. “Or when I’m trying to get away from certain people.”

“Ah,” you nodded knowingly. “So, I’m guessing today is one of those days?”

Jake let out a breathy chuckle. “Something like that.” He tilted his head slightly, curiosity getting the better of him. “What about you? You actually like being here?”

Your gaze softened, trailing over the rows of books surrounding you. “Yeah. It’s quiet. Peaceful.” You glanced back at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “And usually free of distractions.”

Jake placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Ouch. Are you saying I’m a distraction?”

You bit back a laugh. “I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to,” he shot back, his smirk widening.

For a moment, silence settled between you both—not the awkward kind, but something softer, something comfortable. Jake found himself memorizing the way the light reflected in your eyes, the way your fingers brushed against the book in your hands absentmindedly.

Then you tilted your head. “What book is that?”

Jake glanced down at the book he had been gripping this entire time. “Something I just finished.”

“Was it good?”

He studied you for a moment before a teasing glint flickered in his gaze. “Maybe you should borrow it and find out.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “What if I hate it?”

Jake grinned, tilting his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Then I’d seriously question your taste in books, and possibly in people.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t help the amused chuckle that escaped. “Wow, so judgmental.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “I have standards.”

You laughed softly, reaching for the book. Your fingers brushed his—warm, electric. Jake’s scent spiked before he could stop it, oranges and pine, rich and inviting.

You didn’t say anything, but you hesitated, your fingers lingering against his for just a fraction longer than necessary. That momentary pause tells him you noticed.

Jake cleared his throat, flexing his fingers slightly before shoving one hand into his pocket. He watched as you flipped open the book, eyes scanning the first few lines. The sunlight filtering through the library windows caught in your hair, giving you an almost ethereal glow. You looked so focused, so at ease, and yet…

There’s something about you that tugs at something buried deep inside him.

“You’re sure we haven’t met before?” he asks, voice quieter this time, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

You glance up, brows furrowing slightly. “You seem familiar.” Your voice is careful, as if testing the words. “And not just because you’re the student council secretary.”

Jake watches you closely as you tilt your head, lost in thought.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” you continue. “At dinners, at events.” A small sigh escapes you. “But I never really cared to remember the faces or names at those things.”

Something in Jake’s chest tightens.

You weren’t like the others, then. The ones who flaunted their family names, who cared too much about appearances, about impressing the right people. You were rich, sure, but you didn’t let it define you.

And somehow, that made you even more intriguing. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of Jake’s lips. “Ouch.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t take it personally. I just never cared about those social circles.”

Jake hums in amusement. “And yet, here we are.”

You arch a brow. “And yet, here we are.”

Jake’s gaze flickers to the book cart beside you, filled with stacks waiting to be returned to their proper places. He tilts his head, considering, then gestures toward it.

“Mind if I help?”

You blink, caught off guard. “You?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What? Think I’m incapable of putting books on a shelf?”

You huff out a small laugh. “I just figured you’d have a class to get to. Or a meeting.”

Jake leans casually against the cart, hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered. “My classes don’t even start for at least forty minutes or so.” His lips curl into that signature, lazy grin. “Plenty of time to lend a hand.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “And why exactly would the student council secretary want to waste his free time stacking books?”

His grin widens. “Maybe I just like the company.”

You roll your eyes, turning to grab a book from the cart, but before you can, Jake leans in slightly, dropping his voice just enough to make you pause.

“Or,” he teases, “are you saying you don’t want a big, strong Alpha helping you?”

You let out a giggle, shaking your head. “Oh, please.”

Jake smirks. “That wasn’t a no.”

You shake your head again, amused, and hand him a book. “Fine, Secretary Sim. Let’s see if you actually know your way around a library.”

He takes it from you with an exaggerated air of confidence. “Prepare to be impressed.”

And just like that, minutes pass, time slipping through your fingers like sand as you and Jake move through the towering shelves, placing books where they belong. What started as a simple task quickly turns into something else entirely, something lighter.

You are nothing but a giggling fit as the pureblooded Alpha standing just a few inches from you recounts stories from his childhood. For someone who always seemed so put-together, so composed, seeing this side of him; one filled with sighs and boyish grins as he talks about his past—it was unexpectedly charming.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, biting back another laugh as you slide a book onto the shelf. “You cried because your tutor forced you to read Alice in Wonderland?”

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face. “I was like… six, okay? And I didn’t just cry—I threw the book.”

You gasp, covering your mouth in mock horror. “The abuse!”

He snorts, shaking his head. “It was self-defense. I thought it was gonna be some fun story about a girl going on an adventure, but it made no sense.”

You stifle a laugh as he leans against the shelf beside you, watching your expression with a knowing smirk. “You think it’s funny?”

You nod, grinning. “It is funny. What kind of kid throws a tantrum over Alice in Wonderland?”

“The kind who got locked in a study room for hours and told he wasn’t leaving until he finished the chapter,” he says, deadpan.

At that, you burst into quiet laughter, shaking your head. “So what changed? You seem pretty into books now.”

Jake exhales, rolling a book between his hands. “Honestly? After that, I refused to read anything for a while. But my mom, she wasn’t having it. She started giving me books that actually interested me. Stories about history, people, real things. And eventually… I don’t know. I got used to it. Liked it, even.”

His voice softens slightly, a hint of sincerity slipping through his usual teasing tone. It makes you pause, watching him a little more closely.

“Guess I should thank my stubborn tutor,” he adds with a lopsided smile. “Even if Alice in Wonderland still haunts me to this day.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Noted. No Wonderland-themed gifts for you.”

Jake chuckles, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. Then, with a playful nudge of your shoulder, he steps back, grabbing another book from the cart.

He glances down at the watch strapped to his wrist, and his chest tightens when he sees the time—only ten minutes left before his next class. He exhales through his nose, shoulders dropping slightly.

Why did it feel so heavy to leave? It wasn’t like he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t like this was the last time he’d see you. But something about walking away now, after all the laughter, after the ease that settled between you both, made his steps feel weighted.

He sets the book down on the cart, rubbing the back of his neck before finally looking at you. “Guess I should get going,” he mutters, not moving just yet.

You tilt your head, a soft, knowing smile gracing your lips. “Duty calls, huh?”

Jake chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”

There’s a second of silence, and he shifts on his feet, reluctant. He knows he should go, his class isn’t going to wait for him—but there's something holding him in place, like an invisible thread still tying him to this moment, to you.

His fingers tap against the side of his thigh, his weight shifting slightly. Then, before he can think twice about it, he blurts out, “You know… I never got your name.”

It’s a poor excuse to stay a little longer, but it’s the truth. He’s heard people mention you before, seen you in passing at events or around school—always just another face in a sea of familiarity. But here, now, under the warm glow of the library, he realizes that knowing of you isn’t the same as knowing you.

And he wants to.

Your eyebrows lift slightly, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Then, as if humoring him, you tilt your head, an amused glint in your eyes.

“You mean to tell me you, Sim Jaeyun—Jake, student council secretary—know the names of half the student body but not mine?” you tease lightly, arms crossing over your chest.

Jake scoffs, crossing his own arms in response, mirroring your stance. “Hey, in my defense, most people introduce themselves to me first,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You, on the other hand, just threw books at me and insulted my childhood trauma.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine.” You unfold your arms, watching him for a moment before finally saying, “(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

He just knows he looks stupid right now. Like some love-struck idiot with a boyish grin plastered across his face. But he can’t help it.

Your name fits. It rolls through his mind so easily, as if he’s always known it.

“(Y/N),” he repeats, testing how it feels on his tongue. Yeah. He likes it.

Before he can embarrass himself any further, he takes a step back, pointing lazily at the book still on top of the cart. “Don’t forget to let me know if you hate it,” he teases, a smirk playing at his lips.

You roll your eyes but wave him off with an amused shake of your head.

The brunette Alpha stood at the front of the room, hands in his pockets, the glow of the projector casting sharp shadows across his face.

Another council meeting was in full swing, and the proposal was displayed on the screen behind him—an extensive, well-structured plan covering student initiatives for the next few months. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“As you can see, the proposed projects align with last year’s data on student participation rates. The revisions focus on accessibility, budget efficiency, and—”

A voice interrupted.

“How are you sure this is actually in line with what the student body wants?”

Jake’s sentence cut off. His head tilted slightly, eyes flickering toward the source of the comment—a Beta seated a few rows back, arms crossed, expression laced with casual arrogance.

Silence settled over the room.

Jake didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, his fingers curling slightly before flexing out again.

Then, he let out a quiet scoff. The kind that wasn’t amused. The kind that sent tension through the air.

The Beta shifted in his seat, but Jake only raised a brow, taking his time before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice calm. Too calm. “Did I just spend the last ten minutes breaking down survey data, feedback percentages, and budget adjustments for you to sit there and ask that?”

The Beta blinked.

Jake took a step forward, slowly, hands still in his pockets. “Tell me, do you think I’m just making things up? You think I’m sitting in my room, pulling numbers out of my ass for fun?” His voice was smooth, but the sharpness beneath it was unmistakable.

The room was deathly quiet now.

The Beta’s smirk wavered, but he pushed back. “I just think we should consider if—”

Jake cut him off. “No, see, I actually consider things. That’s why I have reports—real student responses—right here.” He tapped the remote, switching the slide. Pages of survey results filled the screen. “Meanwhile, you’re just speculating.”

Silence.

Jake’s gaze was cold. The Beta looked away.

“Thought so,” Jake muttered, clicking to the next slide as if nothing had happened. “Now, moving on.”

The tension still hung thick in the air, but somewhere near the front, Heeseung and Sunghoon exchanged a look—one of amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of their lips.

Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle under his breath, barely audible over the sound of the projector clicking to the next slide. Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from outright grinning.

“Damn,” Heeseung muttered low enough for only those nearby to hear.

Sunghoon, resting his chin lazily against his palm, whispered back, “Should’ve kept his mouth shut.”

The Beta had noticeably shrunk in his seat, his earlier arrogance dissolving under Jake’s scrutiny. His grip tightened around his pen, eyes fixed anywhere but on the secretary at the front of the room.

From the side, Sunoo barely spared him a glance before mumbling, “Serves him right.”

Jake, meanwhile, acted as though nothing had happened, his expression schooled back into indifference. He clicked through another slide, eyes skimming over the proposal details.

Ni-ki and Jay, seated near the back, exchanged glances before grinning. Without a word, Ni-ki held up a fist, and Jay bumped his against it—the silent gesture between them going unnoticed by most.

Well, almost unnoticed.

Jungwon, ever the responsible president, was supposed to be the professional one—the peacemaker. He was meant to keep the meetings under control, not laugh in moments like this. But, really, this was what happened when people tried to provoke them.

Despite knowing better, Jungwon let out a quiet snicker, only to quickly disguise it with a cough, covering his mouth as if clearing his throat. The movement was poorly timed, though, and Sunoo shot him an unimpressed look while Heeseung outright smirked.

Jake, standing at the front, didn’t acknowledge any of it, his attention seemingly fixed on the presentation—but the sharp flicker of amusement in his eyes betrayed him.

“As I was saying before we decided to entertain baseless accusations,” Jake continued smoothly, clicking through another slide, “the budget allocations for each committee have been balanced accordingly. If anyone has actual concerns that don’t involve unnecessary questioning of my ability to read statistics, now would be the time to raise them.”

Silence.

Jungwon pressed his fist against his mouth, eyes crinkling as he fought the urge to laugh again.

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders back before giving a curt nod.

“That’s all for today,” he hummed, voice smooth yet edged with the remnants of his earlier irritation. He didn’t bother with any closing remarks or pleasantries, simply gathering his things with efficiency. His movements were controlled—yet the way he shut his notebook with just a little too much force gave him away.

The second the meeting ended, he was gone. No lingering, no small talk, just a brisk exit, bag slung over his shoulder.

His steps were quick, the grand library doors already in sight, the one place no one would dare follow him.

But just as he turned the corner, voices caught his attention.

“Oh! Jake’s free now, should we go talk to him?”

“He always leaves so quickly after meetings… maybe today’s our chance?”

Jake cursed under his breath.

A group of Omegas stood a few feet away, clearly debating the best way to approach him. He didn’t have the patience for this. Not today. He wasn’t in the right mindset to deal with hopeful smiles or small talk.

More importantly, he didn’t trust himself not to accidentally snap. The last thing he needed was to ruin someone’s day just because he was still irritated from some idiotic remark earlier.

And, god forbid, if someone tried to confess their feelings today, he might actually combust.

He quickened his pace, reaching the library doors just before anyone could call his name. Slipping inside, he shut them behind him with a soft thud, muting the distant voices that nearly caught him.

The Alpha took a breath.

The library was cool, quiet—the perfect escape. His sharp eyes scanned the room, quickly bypassing the open tables and the front desk. He didn’t want to risk being found. Instead, he made a beeline for the very back, where towering bookshelves created a maze of hidden seats.

There, near the last row, he found what he was looking for—a section with oversized shelves, their positioning just awkward enough to create a hidden space. It wasn’t a proper seating area, more like a forbidden section of the library, where students occasionally hid when they wanted to avoid the world.

Perfect.

Jake slipped into the small space, sinking onto the cushioned seat against the back wall. The moment he was out of sight, he let his head rest against the wood, eyes briefly shutting.

Finally. No interruptions. No stupid questions. No unwanted attention. Just silence.

Jake had been there for a while now, longer than he intended, but time always moved differently in the library. The quiet had done little to fully rid him of his earlier frustration, but at least it kept him from doing something he’d regret.

A book rested in his hands, something he had picked up absentmindedly from the shelf near his hiding spot. He wasn’t even sure what it was about, but flipping through the pages had given him something to do.

His fingers hovered over the corner of the page, ready to turn it, when he heard it—soft footsteps approaching, barely audible against the carpeted floors.

Jake tensed.

He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. If it was one of his friends coming to tease him, or worse, someone trying to get his attention for another pointless conversation, he was going to—

But then the scent of honey and seawater hit him.

It was soft, familiar, cutting through his frustration like a breath of fresh air. Unlike the overwhelming scents he had escaped, this one simply existed, wrapping around him until his grip on the book loosened.

Then, your voice followed. “Are you okay?”

Jake froze.

Your voice was gentle, laced with concern. Not prying, but still searching. And suddenly, whatever sharp retort he had been about to throw out died in his throat.

His annoyance didn’t seem so important anymore.

Jake swallowed, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out at first. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss for words—not in meetings, not in arguments, not even when he was annoyed. But something about you being here, standing so close, made all the tension he had been carrying shift into something else.

Slowly, he lowered the book, tilting his head just enough to meet your gaze. Your expression was soft, brows slightly drawn together, not with curiosity, but with something gentler. You weren’t here to pry or gossip. You just… cared. And suddenly, his frustration felt almost childish.

“I…” he stopped himself, exhaling sharply through his nose.

He wanted to say he was fine, that it was nothing, that it was just another stupid meeting with people who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

But the words didn’t come out.

Instead, Jake leaned back against the loveseat, gaze flickering to the pages of his book as if searching for an answer.

You didn’t press him. You didn’t demand an explanation or scold him for running off like his friends probably would have. You just stood there, waiting.

And for some reason, that made him want to answer.

“I just needed some space,” he muttered eventually, his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual sharpness. He rubbed the back of his neck, finally meeting your eyes again. “Didn’t feel like dealing with anyone.”

You hummed, stepping closer. The scent of you made the last of his annoyance settle into something easier to manage.

“I figured,” you said softly. “You looked upset earlier.”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly, surprised that you had noticed. His friends might’ve caught on, but most people weren’t perceptive enough to see through his carefully crafted walls. Yet, you had.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Some beta tried challenging me mid-meeting,” he muttered, irritation creeping in before he caught himself. Shaking his head, he added, “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Jake found himself watching you instead—how you shifted slightly on your feet, how your fingers curled at your sides as if debating whether or not to reach out. The thought made something in his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Then, after a moment, you spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, but almost… grateful. He shook his head, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Nah,” he said, closing the book in his hands. “But… I don’t mind staying here for a while.”

His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, but the way your face softened told him you understood.

You hesitated before shifting your weight slightly. “Can I sit?”

Jake blinked, surprised by the question, then nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. Clearing his throat, he schooled his expression back to neutral and gestured to the spot beside him. “Yeah, of course.”

You settled down next to him, the space between you small but not suffocating. Close enough that he could feel your warmth, but not close enough to be overwhelming.

Jake exhaled slowly, feeling the last remnants of his frustration loosen in his chest. The meeting, the irritation, the unwanted attention from his admirers, it all seemed a little less important now.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the distant rustling of pages and the occasional creak of a chair as someone moved in the main area of the library. But here, hidden away behind the tall shelves, it felt like a world apart.

His fingers idly traced the book’s cover, though he wasn’t really reading. Instead, he was hyper-aware of your knee barely brushing his, your scent lingering; unexpectedly soothing.

“You always come here when you need space?” you asked after a moment, your voice soft, curious but not prying.

Jake tilted his head slightly, considering. “Not always,” he admitted. “But it’s quiet. And no one really thinks to look for me back here.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Except you, apparently.”

You smiled, nudging his arm lightly. “I had a feeling.”

The pureblooded Alpha found himself smiling back—a real one this time. Not forced, not out of politeness, but something small and genuine.

Jake eased back against the wall, shoulders finally relaxing. His fingers tapped absently on the book’s spine, but he wasn’t reading, not when your presence felt more real than the words on the page.

“You know, you always seem to know where to find me,” he mused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You shrugged, tilting your head slightly. “Maybe I just know you better than most, even if I just met you.”

The words settled between you both—not heavy, not awkward, just honest. Jake felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest, something warm.

He studied you for a second longer before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Scary thought.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, please. You’re not that complicated.”

Jake hummed, amused, but didn’t argue. Instead, he let the silence stretch again, though this time, it felt different—more comfortable. The frustration from earlier had nearly faded entirely, replaced by something far less sharp.

After a moment, you reached over, tapping your fingers lightly against the edge of his book. “So, what are you reading?”

Jake glanced down, suddenly remembering he was even holding something. He flipped the book in his hands absentmindedly before handing it over to you. “Something I grabbed off the shelf. Wasn’t really paying attention.”

You took it, skimming the cover. “Mmh, seems interesting.”

Jake scoffed lightly. “You didn’t even read anything yet.”

You grinned. “I have good intuition.”

Jake shook his head, but the amusement lingered in his eyes. He watched as you scanned the cover, the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration. He didn’t know why, but the sight of you so focused on something so simple made his chest tighten.

He looked away, clearing his throat. “You can borrow it if you want.”

You glanced up at him, lips twitching in the beginnings of a smile. “You sure? I thought you came here to read.”

Jake exhaled a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well…” He trailed off, gaze flickering to yours before looking away just as quickly. “I think I found something better to focus on.”

The words left his mouth before he could really think about them, and Jake nearly winced at himself. But then you laughed, soft and light—and the tension in his shoulders eased.

You nudged him again, a touch more lingering this time. “Flatterer.”

Jake smirked. “Just saying.”

You tapped your fingers against the book’s spine, tilting your head slightly as you considered something. Then, with an easy smile, you turned to Jake.

“Wanna read it together?”

Jake blinked, caught off guard. “Together?”

You nodded, flipping the book open and patting the space between you both. “Yeah. You said you weren’t really paying attention when you picked it, right? So why not give it a proper chance?”

Jake hesitated for a second, then exhaled through his nose, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

You grinned. “Not when I know it’s a good idea.”

Shaking his head, Jake shifted slightly, leaning in just enough so he could read over your shoulder as you settled into the first few pages. The closeness wasn’t something he was used to—at least, not like this. It wasn’t suffocating. Instead, it felt warm, your scent wrapping around him in a way that slowly untangled the tension from his limbs.

For a few minutes, the only sound between you both was the quiet rustle of pages turning. Then—

“Oh my god,” you murmured, biting back a laugh.

Jake glanced at you, brow furrowed. “What?”

You pointed at a line of dialogue, barely able to hold in your giggle. “My love for you burns like the eternal sun, scorching and unyielding in its devotion.”

You turned to him, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Scorching and unyielding?”

Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I knew I picked up something weird.”

You nudged him playfully. “No, no, this is great. Keep reading.”

Jake huffed but followed along as you continued. Another dramatic line came up, something about hearts entwining like ivy around stone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“You’re laughing,” Jake accused, though his tone was more fond than annoyed.

You nodded, grinning. “Because this is so overly dramatic. Do people actually talk like this?”

Jake smirked, flipping the page. “Maybe in, like, the 1800s.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Jake. I think you should take notes. Maybe next time you wanna woo an Omega, try saying, ‘My devotion to you is like the tides, endless and drawn to the moon’s call.’”

Jake nearly choked. “Absolutely not.”

Your laughter echoed softly through the library’s quiet corners, warm and easy. Jake grinned despite himself, the bitterness in his scent from earlier fading entirely, replaced by something softer, warm oranges and fresh pine, subtle but there.

You inhaled lightly, the change making your chest flutter just a bit. Without thinking, you smiled.

Jake noticed.

His gaze flickered to you, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “What?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

Jake wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he let the moment settle, let the warmth of your laughter and the ridiculous book between you both fill the space.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically, flipping another page. “Let’s see just how much worse this gets.”

For a while, you read in silence, the occasional rustle of a page the only sound. The library's soft glow wrapped your hidden corner in warmth, making it feel even more secluded, like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you.

Jake found himself enjoying the book despite its overly dramatic writing, maybe because you were reading it too. Your amused huffs and quiet comments made it more entertaining than it should have been. But after a while, he noticed something.

You had grown quiet.

Too quiet.

Jake subtly glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips twitching when he realized what was happening. Your blinks were getting slower, your posture more relaxed, and the way your fingers had stopped fidgeting with the edge of the page told him—without a doubt—you were dozing off.

He let out a breathless chuckle, barely a sound, shaking his head. You really do have a way of catching me off guard, huh?

For a moment, he debated waking you, but something about the peaceful look on your face stopped him. Instead, Jake hesitated for only a second before moving carefully.

With the gentleness only a pureblooded Alpha raised on traditional etiquette could have, he shifted ever so slightly, angling his shoulder toward you. Then, just as lightly, he guided your head to rest against him.

You stirred for the briefest moment, instinctively snuggling a little closer to his side.

Jake immediately froze. His whole body tensed.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was ridiculous, but the warmth of you against him, the way your scent wrapped around him so effortlessly, made his thoughts stumble.

He swallowed, exhaling slowly through his nose, trying to will away the sudden tightness in his chest. This is fine. It’s nothing.

You were just tired. And he was just being considerate. That’s what an Alpha was supposed to do, right? Protect, provide comfort, ensure safety.

So why did it feel like something far more intimate?

He swallowed, forcing himself to focus on the book still open in his lap. The words blurred slightly as his mind reeled, but he kept reading anyway, if only to distract himself from the fact that you were resting against him, trusting him enough to do so.

Outside, the library remained as quiet as ever. The world carried on.

But for Jake, sitting there in the dim light, your soft breathing evening out against his side, something shifted.

And he wasn’t sure he could ever shift it back.

Your breath was steady, your warmth pressed lightly against him, and for a moment, Jake thought you had fully drifted off.

But then, just as he was about to return his attention to the book, you stirred slightly, shifting against his side.

Your voice, quiet and laced with sleep, barely broke the hush of the library.

"Wake me up in fifteen minutes?"

You mumbled the words, your voice slurring just the tiniest bit.

Jake stilled.

He looked down at you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheek, your breathing slow and deep. The way you said it—so trusting, so unguarded—made something warm unfurl in his chest.

He exhaled softly, barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the tenderness in his voice when he responded.

"Sure, omega. Sure."

It was the softest he had ever spoken. The gentlest he had ever let himself be.

Jake didn’t know if you heard it, if your drowsy mind even registered the way his voice had dipped into something almost tame.

But he didn’t care.

Because as you let out a content sigh, sinking just a little bit further into his side, he knew one thing for certain—

Fifteen minutes wouldn't be enough.

The library stayed still, the only sound a distant rustle of pages. Late afternoon light streamed through tall windows, casting a warm glow over your hidden corner.

Jake, who had only meant to let you rest for fifteen minutes, had somehow drifted off himself.

His breathing was even, his frame relaxed, and without realizing it, he had shifted closer. His head had dipped, resting atop yours, while your body had curled just slightly into his side.

The scent of oranges and pine surrounded you, warmer now, softened by sleep, no longer laced with the bitterness from earlier.

For the first time that day, everything felt at peace.

Until your eyelids fluttered open.

You blinked slowly, your body still heavy with sleep. The warmth against you registered first, followed by the weight on your head. It took your drowsy mind a moment to process that Jake had fallen asleep, too—that you had both somehow ended up nestled against each other.

Your cheeks warmed instantly.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted, his uniform brushing against your skin. Slowly, you reached into your skirt pocket, fingers curling around your phone. You turned the screen on—

And immediately panicked.

You had overslept.

By an hour.

Your breath hitched, and you nearly jolted upright, but Jake stirred at the movement, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

You froze.

His head shifted slightly against yours before settling once more, his arm now loosely resting against your side, as if unconsciously keeping you in place.

Your heart was practically in your throat.

You should wake him up. You needed to wake him up.

You hesitated, phone still clutched in your hand as you weighed your options.

Jake was still fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady, completely at ease for the first time all day.

Something about that made you pause.

Carefully, despite the awkward angle, you tilted your head up just slightly—just enough to get a proper look at him.

And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Up close, he looked softer, more serene than the composed, ever-efficient student council secretary he always presented himself as. His brows, usually furrowed in focus, were relaxed. His long lashes rested gently against his skin, and his lips, often pressed into a firm line, were now slightly parted.

Even his scent of warm oranges and fresh pine seemed calmer now, no longer edged with irritation or exhaustion.

You swallowed, feeling your heart skip a beat.

Jake had always been handsome, but there was something about seeing him like this, unguarded, peaceful—that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle.

The logical part of you knew you had to wake him up. It was already late, and staying like this any longer would only make things worse.

But a part of you, the part that wasn’t ready to let go of this warmth just yet, hesitated.

He just looked so… at peace.

Yet you let out a soft sigh before gently nudging his shoulder. “Jake,” you murmured, voice hushed in the quiet of the library.

He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping him as his lashes fluttered, struggling against the remnants of sleep. His brows furrowed, and he shifted, blinking a few times as if trying to register where he was.

Then, his body tensed.

The realization of just how close you were hit him all at once—your warmth pressed against his side, your head resting against his shoulder, his own head tilted atop yours. His breath hitched as he sat up slightly, eyes widening.

“S—Sorry,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You waved a hand, amused. “It’s fine. You looked like you needed that rest.”

Jake blinked, processing your words before exhaling, ruffling his already tousled hair. “Shit… What time is it?”

“Almost six,” you replied, stretching slightly.

His eyes widened slightly as he ran a hand through his hair again, the weight of lost time settling in. “Shit. Did I keep you in here? Don’t you have anything to do?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s a different student covering the night shift," you explained. “Library closes at eight anyway.”

Jake hummed in acknowledgment, but then you sighed, leaning back slightly.

“Great,” you muttered sarcastically.

Jake frowned. “What?”

You huffed. “I have no one to pick me up.”

Jake blinked at you for a moment before tilting his head, expression unreadable. “Huh?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just studying you, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered.

The Alpha tilted his head slightly, brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, why don’t you just drive?”

You blinked at him before letting out a small laugh, shaking your head. “My car isn't here.”

Jake still looked puzzled. “Don’t you have a driver?”

You sighed, leaning back against the loveseat. “It’s my designated driver’s day off,” you explained. “So, I had to hitch a ride with a friend this morning.”

Jake hummed, nodding slowly, but when you casually mentioned her name, his eyes flickered with surprise.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “You’re friends with Heeseung’s mate?”

You nodded with a small smile, amused by the way his expression changed, like he was processing that information and filing it away for later. “Yeah,” you replied. “We’ve been close for a while.”

Jake let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Huh. Small world.”

“You sound surprised,” you teased, raising a brow at him.

He shrugged, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “I mean, kind of? I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know," he admitted. “It’s just—Heeseung’s mate is usually around him or the others. I’ve never really seen her with you.”

You grinned. “That’s because we hang out outside of school.”

Jake let out an amused huff. “Figures.” He leaned back against the bookshelf, arms crossed. “So, you really have no way of getting home?”

You sighed dramatically, resting your head against the back of the loveseat. “Nope. Stuck here until I figure something out.”

Jake clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s great,” he muttered, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Right?” you replied, just as sarcastically. “Super great. Love this for me.”

Jake shifted in his seat, hesitating for a moment. You watched as his fingers tapped idly against his arm, his lips pressing into a thin line like he was debating something in his head.

Then, finally, he sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. “I could drive you,” he said, but there was an unusual softness to his voice, like he was testing the waters.

You blinked up at him, caught slightly off guard. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, but he looked like he was second-guessing himself. “I mean—only if you’re okay with that. If you’d rather call someone else or wait, that’s fine, too.” He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes gave him away. “I just figured… it’d be better than being stuck here.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to accept, but because he looked unsure, like he wanted to help but didn’t want to overstep.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head. “No, I mean—if you’re offering, I won’t say no.”

Jake exhaled, something in his posture easing at your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “That would actually be really helpful.”

His lips quirked up slightly, and he nodded. “Alright. Let’s get out of here, then.”

Jake stood up from the leather loveseat, stretching his arms slightly before turning to you with a playful glint in his eyes. With an exaggerated gesture, he extended his hand toward you, palm up, and dipped his head slightly.

“After you, (Y/N)—the ever-so-pretty Omega,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock formality.

You laughed, rolling your eyes but still taking his hand as you played along. “Why, thank you, my kind Alpha," you replied, matching his tone with an amused smirk.

As your fingers briefly brushed against his, Jake let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re something else,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words—only a quiet fondness he wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge yet.

As you both stepped outside the hidden reading nook, the warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the library windows. The golden light painted long shadows across the floor, making the whole place feel even more serene.

Just as you reached the front doors, you suddenly stopped and turned to Jake. “Wait here for a second,” you told him, motioning for him to stay put.

Jake furrowed his brows. “Where are you going?”

You pointed toward the reception desk. “I need to grab my bag. I’ll be quick.”

He nodded, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched you jog over. You made your way to the desk, where the student taking over the night shift was already setting up for her hours ahead. She glanced up as you approached, blinking in surprise before a teasing grin spread across her face.

“So… you and Jake, huh?” she mused, raising a knowing brow as she handed you your bag.

You blinked before letting out a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, please,” you scoffed. “It’s not like that.”

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure. You do know he’s waiting for you by the door like a damn gentleman, right? That’s Alpha behavior if I’ve ever seen it.”

You rolled your eyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “He’s just giving me a ride home. That’s all.”

She smirked, resting her chin on her palm. “Mhm. And I’m just a regular student who doesn’t notice things.”

Shaking your head, you turned away, laughing under your breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder.

“Tell Jake I said hi,” she teased back, making you shake your head again with a smile as you returned to the entrance.

Jake glanced at you as you rejoined him. “Took you long enough,” he said, though there was no actual bite to his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Patience, Jake.”

He scoffed, but then reached out, tugging your bag off your shoulder before you could react. “Here, let me.”

You blinked at him. “Jake, I can carry my own bag.”

“I know,” he said easily, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing. “But I want to.”

He pushed open the library doors with a smirk. “Let’s get going.”

You only grinned, stepping outside beside him, the air crisp as the last remnants of daylight clung to the sky.

The car ride home was comfortable, the kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward, just easy. The city lights flickered past as the sky deepened into shades of navy, the last traces of sunset fading beyond the horizon.

You sat snugly in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward Jake as he drove with practiced ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gear shift.

“So, mate,” you said, attempting your best Australian accent, dragging the word out obnoxiously. “Where we headin’, aye?”

Jake nearly choked on his laughter. “Oh my god, what was that?”

“My perfect Aussie impression,” you grinned.

He shot you a look, lips twitching. “That was a crime against my entire country.”

“Oi,” you protested, making your voice deeper. “That’s offensive, innit?”

Jake shook his head, amused. “Now you just sound British.”

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Jake just grinned, shaking his head as he made a turn.

“Take a left up here,” you directed, still giggling.

He followed without question, and as the road stretched out before you, the surroundings became quieter, lined with trees and distant estate homes. Soon, large iron gates loomed ahead.

Jake whistled lowly. “Fancy.”

You snorted, shooting him a look before gesturing around the car’s sleek interior. “Oh, please. Stop acting like you’re not used to the same lifestyle.”

Jake smirked, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Okay, fair point,” he admitted. “But you have to admit, this is some next-level rich.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Says the guy driving a literal sports car.”

Jake chuckled, tapping the wheel. “Touché.”

The soft purr of the engine filled the space as the car eased forward, headlights illuminating the long road ahead. Soon, the massive gates loomed before you, standing tall and pristine under the dimming sky.

Jake took it in, lips quirking. “Still fancy.”

You hummed, reaching for the intercom, but at the last second, an idea sparked. You smirked and leaned back. “You do it.”

Jake raised a brow. “Me?”

You nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Just say… special delivery.”

He gave you a look, but the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. With a small shake of his head, he rolled down the window and pressed the call button. A second later, a static click sounded.

“Special delivery,” Jake said smoothly, voice rich with amusement.

There was a brief pause—then, with a soft beep, the gates creaked open.

You burst out laughing, leaning back in your seat. Jake just shook his head as he pulled forward, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” he mused. “That it actually worked or that you set me up for it.”

“You just have that kind of voice,” you teased, still grinning.

Jake smirked, flicking his gaze toward you. “Oh yeah? You like my voice that much?”

You groaned, reaching over to shove his arm. “Drive, Sim.”

As the gates opened fully, Jake eased the car forward, and the moment you passed through, the estate unfolded before him like something straight out of a movie.

The long driveway was paved with smooth cobblestone, flanked by lush, towering trees that cast intricate shadows beneath the soft glow of vintage-style street lamps.

Vibrant flower beds lined the path, a carefully curated mix of imported and native flora blooming in perfect harmony. The air smelled fresh, carried by the evening breeze.

Jake let out a low whistle as he took in the sight, his fingers drumming against the wheel. “Alright, I take it back. This is next-level rich.”

You smirked, watching his expression shift as you approached the heart of the estate. “Mhmm.”

The trees eventually gave way to a pristine white mansion that stood tall against the twilight sky. The grand structure was illuminated by soft golden lights, casting a warm glow against the cool evening.

Right in the middle of the circular driveway, a massive, intricately designed fountain stood proudly, water cascading from its tiers in a soothing rhythm.

Jake’s gaze flicked to the various luxury and imported sports cars parked carelessly around the front, some you recognized as your family’s, others belonging to guests or relatives who were likely visiting.

At that, Jake let out a scoff, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Okay, now this just reminds me of our house.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly as you glanced at him. “Told you.”

He snorted. “Our parents really went all out, didn’t they?”

“They always do.” You sighed, leaning back into your seat. “Big houses, big cars, big expectations.”

Jake glanced at you briefly before turning back to the road, guiding the car toward the entrance. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice softer. “Big everything.”

There was a moment of silence, the quiet hum of the car filling the space.

Then, in true Jake fashion, he smirked. “But, to be fair, at least we’re not the ones worrying about car maintenance.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Small mercies, Sim. Small mercies.”

Before you could even reach for the door handle, Jake suddenly clicked his tongue. “Nope.”

You blinked at him just as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out in one swift motion. His door shut with a quiet thud, and within seconds, he was already rounding the front of the car, effortlessly smooth as always.

The moment he pulled open the passenger door for you, he grinned. “Go on, princess. Fancy estates require fancy treatment.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head in amusement as you took his offered hand and stepped out onto the driveway. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, you keep me around,” he quipped, the corners of his eyes crinkling with that familiar, boyish smile.

Before you could fire back a response, the large wooden doors of the mansion suddenly swung open. The warm glow of the foyer lights spilled onto the marble steps, casting long shadows across the pristine entryway.

Standing in the doorway was your mother, poised yet undeniably elegant, dressed in a silk blouse and tailored pants. The usual sharpness in her gaze was softened, just slightly—with both worry and amusement as her eyes flickered between you and Jake, who was still casually holding your hand.

Her lips quirked up the slightest bit. “Well,” she mused, arms crossing. “It seems you’ve had quite the evening.”

Jake, ever the charmer, straightened up, offering a polite yet playful smile. “Good evening, Mrs. (L/N),” he greeted smoothly, his posture changing into something more formal yet undeniably confident.

You, on the other hand, simply sighed and shot him a look before turning to your mother. “Mom, please don’t start.”

Your mother let out a light laugh, though her eyes still held traces of concern. “I wasn’t going to.” Then, her gaze flickered to Jake’s sleek black sports car parked in the driveway. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t arrive in something flashier, Mr. Sim.”

Jake blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, how do you know me?”

Your mother let out a soft laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, Jake, dear. I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”

You and Jake exchanged equally confused glances before looking back at her.

Your mother smirked knowingly. “Your parents and I have been friends for years. We see each other at events all the time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

Jake scoffed in disbelief, rubbing the back of his neck. “Huh. Well, that’s news to me.” Then, he turned to you, raising a brow. “Did you know about this?”

You simply shrugged. “Nope.”

Jake let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Your mother, still thoroughly entertained, placed a hand on her hip. “Well, now that we’ve established that, how about you join us for dinner? I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Jake straightened slightly, shifting into that polite, well-mannered version of himself that only surfaced in formal settings. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am,” he said smoothly, voice respectful but firm. “But my parents are expecting me back home soon.”

Your mother hummed, nodding in understanding. “That’s a shame. Maybe next time, then.”

“Definitely,” Jake agreed with a small grin before turning back to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah. Drive safe, Jake.”

He gave you a two-finger salute before slipping back into his sleek black sports car. The engine purred to life, the sound low and smooth, as he backed out of the pristine driveway.

You didn’t move, not even when the taillights faded into the distance. You waited until his car was completely out of sight before finally turning toward the open doorway.

The moment you stepped inside, your mother wasted no time.

“So,” she drawled, shutting the door behind you with a smirk that spelled nothing but trouble. “Jake Sim, huh?”

You sighed. “Mom.”

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence as she followed you further into the house. “He’s handsome. And he clearly dotes on you.”

“Mom.”

“Oh, and the way he opened the door for you? Adorable.”

You sighed dramatically, running a hand through your hair as you kicked off your shoes by the entrance. “Mom, I just met him—literally today.”

Your mother raised a perfectly manicured brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the grand staircase railing. The warm chandelier light made the gold accents of her jewelry glint as she smirked at you. “Well, he certainly doesn’t act like it,” she quipped. “That boy was looking at you like an Alpha who’s been courting you for years.”

Your jaw dropped. “Mom! That is not—”

She cut you off with a knowing laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, sweetheart, please. The way he opened your door? The way he stood just a little too close while you were talking?” She shook her head with mock disbelief. “And you’re telling me you just met?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I swear, you’re worse than Dad.”

Your mom gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Excuse me?” Then, with a knowing smile, she added, “Speaking of your father, I’m pretty sure he’d approve of Jake.”

You stared at her, utterly exasperated. “Oh my god.”

She grinned. “What? He’s well-mannered, respectful, and from a good family. Plus, he drives a nice car. You know how your father feels about cars.”

You groaned louder, turning on your heel. “I’m going to bed before you start planning our wedding.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me!” she called out, amusement laced in her voice. Then, just as you reached your door, she added, “You'd make a cute pair, don’t you think?”

You slammed your door shut as her laughter echoed down the hall.

Lunch had just begun, and the halls buzzed with the usual midday energy, students spilling out of classrooms, voices overlapping, shoes scuffing against the polished floors. Jake walked alongside his usual group, all casually making their way toward the cafeteria.

“Man, I am starving,” Jay groaned, stretching his arms. “What’s for lunch today?”

“Something fancy, probably,” Sunghoon replied with a shrug. “They said it’s steak.”

Ni-ki perked up at that. “Oh, hell yeah.”

“I hope it’s actually good steak,” Sunoo chimed in, adjusting his bag strap. “Not the rubbery kind they sometimes serve.”

The group chuckled, but Jake wasn’t paying much attention. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his gaze subtly scanning the hallway. It wasn’t obvious, he wasn’t desperate or anything, but he noticed the lack of a certain presence.

You weren’t there. It was weird. He hadn’t even known you for that long, yet your absence was noticeable.

His phone remained silent in his pocket, no texts or missed calls from you.

“Hey, we’re going,” Jungwon called over his shoulder as the group neared the cafeteria entrance.

Jake hesitated. “Actually,” he said, slowing his steps, “I need to finish up some paperwork. I’ll eat later.”

That got their attention.

Sunoo immediately narrowed his eyes. “You always say that.”

“Yeah, bro, what’s new?” Heeseung added, shaking his head.

Jay sighed, already tired. “Dude, just go. We all know you won’t eat properly if you’re buried in council work.”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon agreed. “We’d rather deal with you now than later when you’re sleep-deprived and grumpy.”

Jake waved them off lazily. “Yeah, yeah,” he shot them a grin before turning in the opposite direction. But instead of heading toward the council office, he found himself walking toward the library.

The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere was different, it was quieter, calmer, with the faint scent of books in the air. His sharp eyes scanned the room, expecting to find you tucked away in your usual corner.

But you weren’t there.

He frowned slightly.

Instead, his gaze landed on the student librarian at the front desk, the same one who had seen you leaving with him last night. She noticed him instantly, and before he could even say a word, a slow, knowing grin stretched across her face.

Jake narrowed his eyes. He already didn’t like that look. “Where is she?” he asked, his tone neutral but firm.

The grin only widened. “Oh? Looking for someone, Sim?”

Jake exhaled sharply, unimpressed. “Her classroom. What floor?”

The student hummed, resting her chin on her palm. “And why would I tell you that?”

Jake leveled her with a flat stare. “Because I’m asking nicely.”

She clicked her tongue, dragging out the moment just to mess with him.

“Third floor,” she finally relented, her grin turning smug. “Room 3-A.”

Jake didn’t waste another second. Without another word, he turned on his heel, already making his way out.

But even as he left, he could still hear her barely suppressed laughter behind him.

Jake wasn’t the type to go looking for people. If anything, people usually came looking for him, whether it was for council matters, social obligations, or just random confessions.

But today, instead of heading to lunch with the boys, he found himself climbing the stairs to the third floor, hands tucked into his pockets.

The student librarian had given him your classroom number with an all-too-knowing grin, and now, standing outside the door to Room 3-A, he was met with a scene that made him pause.

You were surrounded.

Not just by one or two people, but by half the classroom. Some perched on desks, others standing, leaning in with animated grins as they listened intently to whatever you were saying.

Laughter echoed through the space, loud and infectious. It wasn’t just that you were well-liked, it was that you owned the room without even trying.

The crowd, the attention, the way people gravitated toward you—it wasn’t new. And yet, as his eyes settled on you, a thought crept into his mind.

Did you even notice him standing there?

But then, as if you could sense him, your gaze snapped toward the doorway.

And suddenly, the noise faded into the background.

Despite being completely engrossed in conversation, despite the people practically surrounding you, your focus changed entirely. Your lips, still curled mid-laugh, softened into something more curious.

Jake hadn’t even taken a full step inside before you were already pushing yourself up from your seat, murmuring brief apologies to your friends as you effortlessly slipped through the crowd.

You reached him within seconds, tilting your head with a knowing smile. “Didn’t see you in the library.”

Jake’s lips twitched. “Yeah, well. That’s ‘cause you weren’t there.”

A teasing glint flashed in your eyes. “So you were looking for me.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Something like that.”

Behind you, a whistle cut through the air. “Damn,” one of your classmates muttered. “Didn’t think Sim was into you.”

Jake didn’t acknowledge the comment, but he didn’t need to. You rolled your eyes before half-turning to shoot them an unimpressed look. “Oh, shut up.”

When you turned back, Jake was still watching you.

His gaze flickered over your face, assessing, before he finally tilted his head slightly. “You free?”

You blinked. “For?”

“Lunch.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“You’re inviting me to lunch?” you asked, amusement evident in your tone.

Jake smirked, rocking back on his heels. “I know. Big honor.”

You scoffed, playfully smacking his arm. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Maybe.” He nodded toward the door. “C’mon.”

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly before casting a glance over your shoulder—because, of course, your classmates were still very much watching. Some wore wide grins, others exchanged glances, and a few were whispering among themselves.

“Guess I’ll be back later,” you announced, sending them a wink before turning back to Jake.

And just like that, he was leading you out the door, the sound of hushed murmurs and not-so-subtle giggles trailing behind you.

The cafeteria was alive with the hum of conversation, the clatter of trays, and the occasional burst of laughter from groups of students huddled around their tables. The sheer size of the place should have made it feel open, but with the lunchtime rush in full swing, it felt like everyone was packed in shoulder to shoulder.

Jake barely hesitated before placing his hand on the small of your back again, guiding you through the crowd with effortless ease. It was instinctual, like he had to make sure you weren’t swallowed up in the mass of students.

The heat of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of your uniform, grounding and steady, but most of all, familiar.

You didn’t move away.

You didn’t want to.

If anything, your body naturally gravitated closer to him, and that realization alone sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Jake, of course, was completely unbothered. He wasn’t even looking at you, his gaze flickered across the cafeteria, scanning the area, before muttering, “You’d think with a cafeteria this big, it wouldn’t feel so cramped.”

His voice was casual, like he wasn’t currently touching you like it was second nature.

You swallowed, trying to will away the warmth creeping up your neck. “What, don’t tell me you’re scared of a little crowd, Sim?”

Jake scoffed, glancing at you with a smirk. “Scared? No. Annoyed? Absolutely.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Such a prince, huh? What’s next? Gonna demand a private table?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You gave him a look, lips twitching. “Wow. I thought you were the chill one in your group.”

Jake placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I am chill.”

You raised a brow. “You’re literally guiding me through a cafeteria like we’re dodging landmines.”

He shot you a lazy grin. “That’s not me being not chill. That’s me making sure you don’t trip over some random first year’s backpack.”

You snorted. “Sure, Sim. Whatever you say.”

The line moved forward, and Jake’s hand, still warm and very much there, pressed just slightly, nudging you along with him.

The air between you two was light, playful, but underlined with something else, something neither of you was fully acknowledging yet.

Jake didn’t remove his hand, and you… well, you let him.

The line continued moving, and when you finally reached the food counter, he casually leaned in a little closer. “What are you getting?” The way his voice dipped slightly, like he was asking something personal, made your stomach flip.

You blinked, shaking yourself out of it. “Uh. Probably just whatever they have today.”

Jake raised a brow, amused. “That’s not very specific.”

You shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Right. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake only smirked, looking far too smug for your liking. “Nothing, nothing.”

“No, say it.” You crossed your arms, facing him fully now.

He exhaled a laugh, tilting his head slightly. “I just feel like you have your little food preferences. Probably avoid certain textures. Maybe you don’t like overly salty stuff?”

You blinked. “…Okay, but how do you know that?”

Jake’s smirk widened. “So I am right?”

You clicked your tongue, rolling your eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. If anything, the fact that he’d picked up on something so small about you after barely a day of knowing you was a little too endearing.

Jake, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself.

The two of you finally reached the counter, and just as you were about to grab a tray, Jake casually plucked one up first—then handed it to you.

His fingers barely brushed against yours, but it was enough to send a jolt of awareness through your entire arm.

Your breath hitched.

Jake, however, was unfazed. “See? Not picky, but definitely predictable.”

You scoffed, snatching the tray from his hands. “I hate you.”

Jake just grinned. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

The two of you moved through the rest of the line with that same easy back-and-forth, Jake making little comments about your food choices while you shot back with equally teasing remarks. By the time you had your trays and turned toward the seating area, you realized something—

Most of the tables were already packed.

Clusters of students filled every available space, some standing and chatting with friends, others laughing loudly, their voices echoing through the massive cafeteria.

Jake scanned the room briefly, his sharp eyes flicking over the crowd before they landed on a relatively empty table tucked into a corner near one of the large windows. He didn’t hesitate—just placed his free hand on the small of your back again and guided you toward it without a word.

Your breath caught for a split second, but you didn’t pull away.

It was so effortless, the way he touched you—like he’d done it a million times before, like it was just natural for him to steer you through a crowded space. The warmth of his palm against your lower back was firm but not forceful, steadying yet entirely casual.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

Maybe a little too much.

You felt your face heating up again, but before you could dwell on it, Jake spoke.

“Looks like the guys disappeared on me,” he mused as you both reached the table, setting his tray down before pulling out a chair for you.

The gesture was so smooth, so instinctive, that it took you a second to react.

You blinked at him. “…Are you always this much of a gentleman?”

Jake let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned slightly over the chair. “Only for people who don’t make me carry both our trays.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you sat down. “I could’ve carried my own, you know.”

Jake simply shrugged, taking his seat across from you. “Sure. But where’s the fun in that?”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head before picking up your utensils. “Anyway, maybe your friends just assumed you’d be too busy drowning in council work to eat. You are kind of a workaholic.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he unwrapped his utensils. “Oh? And you know this how?”

You gave him a pointed look. “You just told me earlier that you literally ditched them earlier by saying you had to ‘finish up papers.’”

Jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Technically, I didn’t lie. I do have papers to go through later.”

You snorted. “Right. And you just so happened to show up at my classroom instead.”

Jake’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a casual bite of his food. “Just a coincidence.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mhm. Sure.”

He grinned. “What, can’t a guy take a break and conveniently end up where you are?”

Your fork paused midair.

The teasing lilt in his voice was undeniable, but there was something else there, something almost too deliberate in the way he said it. Like he wanted you to catch it. Like he was testing the waters.

And the worst part? It was working.

You quickly stuffed a bite of food into your mouth to distract from the way your stomach flipped at his words.

Jake just chuckled, clearly entertained by your reaction.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the chatter of the cafeteria buzzing around you. The corner you’d picked was quieter, a little more secluded, with sunlight streaming through the large windows beside you. It was… oddly peaceful.

Then, out of nowhere, Jake spoke again.

“I meant what I said, by the way.”

You glanced up, chewing slowly. “…About what?”

His eyes held yours. “That I don’t mind this.”

You swallowed. “This?”

Jake rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his hand. “Eating with you.”

Your heartbeat stuttered.

It was such a simple statement, but the way he said it, the way he looked at you when he did—yeah, you were in trouble.

You quickly looked down at your plate, pretending to focus on your food.

Instead of commenting, he just smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly before picking up his fork again.

But the knowing glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

And damn it, you had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

The afternoon sun stretched golden across the field, casting a warm glow over the wide expanse of green. A light breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the crisp scent of grass and the faintest traces of sweat as Jake and Sunghoon tossed the football back and forth.

It was their free period, a rare chance to unwind and let their inner Alphas stretch a little without the weight of expectations pressing down on them.

Jake rolled his shoulders, catching the ball with ease before spinning it in his hands. “Think you can handle a real pass this time?”

Sunghoon scoffed, adjusting his stance. “Think you can throw one?”

Jake smirked, cocking his arm back and sending the ball soaring through the air—

But the second it left his hands, so did every ounce of his focus.

Your scent.

It drifted through the open halls beside the field, laced with something warm that settled into his chest like second nature. Jake’s head turned on instinct, drawn toward the source before he could even process why.

And there you were.

Walking side by side with Jungwon’s mate, your laughter trailing through the breeze.

Jake barely registered the thud of the football landing in Sunghoon’s grip. His attention was fixed entirely on you, the way you were so effortlessly blending into his world without even trying.

He felt something shift inside him, soft, warm, and dangerously easy to get used to.

Because it wasn’t just that it was you, though that alone was enough to mess with his pulse. It was the fact that you were comfortable, that you were talking and laughing with Jungwon’s mate, someone who had already been claimed, someone who was already part of the pack in a way that felt permanent.

And for some reason, seeing you like this, seeing you so naturally fall into step with people who had already been solidified in his life, it made something deep inside him settle.

Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Like you belonged here.

Sunghoon’s voice barely cut through his daze. “Finally, a decent throw.”

Jake blinked, shaking himself out of it, but the warmth in his chest didn’t fade.

His hand twitched at his side, itching to reach for something, to act on something—but he didn’t even know what. His Alpha stirred, entirely content just from the sight of you.

He swallowed thickly. Then, suddenly, he was moving.

“I gotta—” Jake’s voice came out rushed, unsteady, as he took a step back. “Bathroom.”

Sunghoon didn’t even glance at him, too busy tossing the ball in the air. “Sure, whatever.”

Jake was already halfway across the field, already walking toward you.

The moment Jake started walking, he knew there was no stopping himself.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, his body just moved, drawn toward you like an invisible force had wrapped itself around his chest and tugged.

You hadn’t even noticed him yet, too caught up in whatever conversation you were having. Your expression was relaxed, your smile easy. The sight made something in Jake unravel, it was stupid, really, how soft he felt over something so simple.

But then, as if you could feel him coming, you glanced up.

Your eyes met his, and Jake swore he felt his heart stumble. Recognition flashed across your face, quickly followed by a small, surprised smile. “Jake?”

Jungwon’s mate turned as well, blinking in confusion. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here?”

Jake barely acknowledged her, his attention locked solely on you. “Free period,” he said, voice smooth but just a little quieter than usual. “I was training with Sunghoon.”

Your gaze flickered past him toward the field, where Sunghoon was still casually tossing the football in the air, completely unbothered.

“And now?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jake huffed a small breath, as if he hadn’t just abandoned practice the second he caught your scent. “Now I’m here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For?”

Jake hesitated for half a second, then shrugged, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips. “For you.”

Your breath hitched just slightly, but Jake caught it. And so did his inner Alpha, the presence inside him practically preening at the reaction.

Jungwon’s mate, completely noticing the tension settling between you two, let out a knowing hum. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She shot you a teasing look before waving. “See you later!”

You barely managed a nod before they slipped away, leaving you and Jake standing there, just looking at each other.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, slowly, Jake took another step closer, close enough that your scent wrapped around him fully. Close enough that he could see the faint pink dusting your cheeks, the way your fingers twitched slightly at your sides.

“Where are you headed?” he asked, his voice smooth, casual. Like he wasn’t completely invading your plans right now.

You tried to answer. Really, you did. But your brain was malfunctioning.

Because—goddamn.

Jake wasn’t in his usual navy blazer, and the absence of it shouldn’t have been this distracting, but it was. His white button-up was slightly rumpled, the top few buttons left undone, exposing just a hint of skin. His tie was loosened around his neck, his sleeves lazily rolled up to his elbows, and worst of all—his scent was stronger than ever.

The crisp bite of pine mixed with the warmth of oranges, fresh and intoxicating, like stepping into the woods after a summer rain. It wrapped around you, pulled you in, made your head feel lighter..

You swallowed, forcing your eyes forward before you got caught staring. “Uh—” Get it together, damn it. “Library.”

Jake hummed, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked beside you. “Studying?”

“Something like that,” you muttered, still trying to focus on walking and not the way his arm brushed yours every now and then.

Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. “You okay?”

No. Absolutely not.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jake tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze. “No reason. You just seem… distracted.”

You almost scowled. He knew. Of course he knew. His Alpha was probably reveling in it, preening at the fact that his scent was affecting you this much.

“Must be the heat,” you lied, pressing your lips together.

Jake exhaled a quiet laugh, low and knowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse jump.

The Alpha barely gave you a second to react before he was reaching for the books in your arms, smoothly plucking them from your grasp like they weren’t heavy at all.

“Jake—” You blinked, startled.

“You look like you’re about to drop these,” he said simply, adjusting the books against his hip with one arm. The other hand went to your shoulder, sliding the strap of your very, very girly bag off like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Jake, that’s—”

He swung the bag onto his shoulder without even flinching.

It was pastel. It had bows. A tiny stuffed bear keychain dangled from the zipper, and the fabric smelled very obviously like you.

Jake didn’t even blink.

You, on the other hand, were short-circuiting. “What,” you finally choked out.

Jake peered down at you, unfazed. “What?”

You pointed, staring at the bag hanging on his shoulder. “That.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “What about it?”

“Jake, you’re holding my bag.”

Another shrug. “And?”

You stared at him. “It has bows.”

Jake smirked. “Cute.”

Your brain stopped functioning. “It’s pink.”

“Your point?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands flying up in exasperation. “You don’t care?”

Jake raised a brow. “Why would I?”

You huffed, actually huffed as you let your arms fall to your sides. “Because—because you’re literally walking around like that, unbothered, like you don’t have my pink, bow-covered, stuffed-animal-having bag slung over your shoulder—”

Jake leaned down a little, smirking. “Would it bother you if I cared?”

You gaped at him, caught completely off guard.

You hated how easily he did that, how easily he could flip the entire conversation on its head and make you feel ridiculous for even bringing it up.

“No,” you muttered, pressing your lips together. “It wouldn’t.”

Jake chuckled. “Then it’s not a problem, is it?”

And just like that, he straightened up, walking like he wasn’t carrying an entire armful of your things, including your very feminine, very obvious bag.

You? You were still recovering.

And somehow, you just knew, from the way Jake’s scent curled around you in smug amusement, from the way his lips kept twitching at your stunned silence—yeah, he was enjoying every second of this.

Jake didn’t even spare a glance back toward the field. Whatever Sunghoon was thinking, probably something along the lines of: where the hell did he go?

He should have gone back. He should have at least tossed Sunghoon a quick text to say he got caught up. But the moment he saw you, saw the way you were laughing with Jungwon’s mate, saw the way the sunlight hit your face just right, any thought of returning to training vanished.

Sunghoon would figure it out. Eventually.

The next day, the moment the final bell rang, the hallway buzzed with noise, students shuffling to their lockers, conversations overlapping, and plans forming for the rest of the afternoon.

Jake stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders as he walked alongside Heeseung. “Man, I need something sweet,” Heeseung muttered, eyes glued to his phone. “Let’s stop by the café real quick before we head back.”

Jake hummed in agreement, barely listening. His hands were shoved in his pockets, steps lazy and unhurried, until he saw you.

You stood by your locker, fingers moving as you fixed your books and reorganized your things. Strands of hair fell over your face as you reached up to adjust the top shelf, completely unaware of the way Jake’s attention had locked onto you like a magnet.

Like his feet had a mind of their own, walking past you wasn’t an option. He lifted a hand, waving Heeseung off without a word.

Heeseung, still distracted by whatever was on his phone, just nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Jake took that as his cue and started walking.

He changed course, slipping away so smoothly it was like he had never been walking beside Heeseung in the first place. Within seconds, he was ten feet away from where they had been.

Heeseung didn’t even notice.

Jake stopped right beside you, leaning casually against the lockers. “Need some help?”

You glanced up, slightly startled. “Jake? What happened to—weren’t you with Heeseung?”

Jake smirked. “Was I?”

You blinked. “…Yes?”

Jake just shrugged, reaching out and taking the book you were about to shove into your bag. Without hesitation, he slung your very girly, very bow-covered bag over his shoulder like it was nothing. The sight of it against his unbuttoned navy blazer, his loosened navy tie, and the lazy confidence in his stance, was almost comical.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Jake.”

“Hm?”

“You ditched him.”

His grin was shameless. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jake—”

“Come on,” he cut in smoothly, already turning to walk with you. “Where are you headed?”

You huffed, shutting your locker. “The student council room.”

Jake raised a brow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. “Huh. Didn’t know you were suddenly on council duty.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not. Our class treasurer forgot to submit a report on the budget, so I’m doing it.”

His expression changed, something playful settling in his gaze. “And you didn’t ask me for help?”

You rolled your eyes, hugging the folder to your chest. “Jake, you’re the secretary, not the treasurer. Big difference.”

“Still part of it,” he argued, effortlessly matching your pace as you navigated through the crowded hall. “I could’ve at least made sure you weren’t running around like this.”

You scoffed, but before you could respond, you felt the warmth of his hand press lightly against the small of your back. It was a barely-there touch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath hitched.

Jake, of course, didn’t seem fazed at all. If anything, he was acting like this was normal. Like the heat of his palm wasn’t sending a strange sort of static along your spine.

“What?” he mused, tilting his head slightly when he noticed you stiffen. “Crowded hall. Don’t want you getting lost.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your lips together as you forced yourself to keep walking.

Meanwhile, a few feet behind, Heeseung who had been completely occupied with his phone, glanced up, only to find that Jake had completely disappeared.

His brows furrowed as he scanned the hallway, but all he could see was a familiar fluff of brown hair moving through the crowd.

Heeseung sighed through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The student council room was unusually silent.

No soft hum of pages flipping, no quiet muttering as Jake worked through his usual mountain of files, no fresh scent of coffee filling the air like it always did in the morning.

Just… quietness.

Jay walked in first, balancing his drink in one hand, fingers lazily tapping against his phone with the other. "He’s already here, right?" He barely glanced up, expecting the usual scene: Jake at his desk, half-buried in council paperwork, looking vaguely annoyed that they weren’t being as productive as him.

Ni-ki didn’t even bother looking around. "Duh. Jake’s always here first."

Except, Jake wasn’t there.

Jay froze mid-step, blinking at the empty desk. “Wait.” He frowned. “Where the hell is he?”

Ni-ki finally looked up from his phone, expecting Jay to be overreacting, only for his eyes to land on something even weirder, a stack of neatly arranged documents, sitting untouched on Jake’s desk.

It was done.

All of it. Every single piece of work Jake should've been doing this morning had already been signed, stapled, and sorted.

Jay exhaled through his nose, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Okay. So, either he pulled an all-nighter and got his work done ahead of time…” He trailed off before exchanging a look with Ni-ki.

“…Or he figured out how to clone himself,” Ni-ki deadpanned, poking the paperwork like it might vanish into thin air. “Either way, this is freaky.”

Jay barely acknowledged the joke, still staring at the empty seat. “No, but seriously. Where is he?”

Meanwhile, a few blocks away; Jake didn’t even bother looking up as the café door chimed, signaling more students coming in. He barely acknowledged the low murmurs around them, the not-so-subtle glances.

His focus was elsewhere. More specifically, on you.

You were curled slightly forward, fiddling with your drink, your hand resting on his blazer, which was draped across your lap.

He had thrown the blazer over you without a second thought—didn’t even say anything, just casually shrugged it off and placed it there.

Not that you noticed. You were too busy fuming about your morning.

“I mean, seriously,” you huffed, stirring your drink aggressively. “What kind of professor makes a deadline 7 AM sharp? That should be illegal. There should be laws.”

Jake hummed, lazily adjusting the girly pink bag that was currently on his lap. “So you did it last-minute.”

You shot the pureblooded Alpha a look. “No, because if I finished it early, I wouldn’t be this pissed off about it.”

Jake smirked. “Right. So you did do it last-minute.”

You groaned, pressing your forehead against the table dramatically. “Okay, fine, maybe I did finish it at, like, 3 AM, but that’s beside the point.”

Jake took a slow sip of his drink, watching you. “No, I think that’s exactly the point.” His voice was smoother now, teasing. “You could’ve just asked for my help, you know.”

Your head snapped up. “Oh, please. Like I’d let Mr. Secretary do my work for me.”

Jake huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, but you let me carry your bag.”

You didn’t even blink. “And?”

Jake blinked back.

Because, yeah, he’d been expecting at least some kind of reaction. A scoff, an eye-roll, maybe even a muttered whatever, Sim. But instead, you looked at him like this was just normal. Like him carrying your pink, ribbon-covered, unmistakably girly bag was something he’d done a hundred times before.

Which, now that he thought about it, he kinda had.

Your omega practically preened at the thought.

It felt natural. Comforting.

Like it belonged there, like he belonged there.

And if Jake noticed the way your lips pressed together like you were fighting back a smile? No, he didn’t. Not at all.

Mornings in the council room were always the same. Papers shuffled, chairs scraped against the floor, low murmurs filled the air as the student council members moved through their routine and Jake’s coffee—always lingered in the air, a signal that their secretary had already buried himself in work before anyone else arrived.

Except today, the room smelled normal.

No coffee, no Jake.

Jungwon, seated at his own desk near the window, skimmed through a proposal, his brows furrowed in concentration. Sunoo, half-awake and nursing his iced americano like his life depended on it, peeked up at the clock.

Ni-ki, on the other hand, had been watching the entrance for the past five minutes.

“Where’s golden boy?” he finally muttered, leaning back in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers.

Jay, sitting at his own table across from Jungwon, barely spared him a glance. “No clue. Probably overslept.”

Heeseung, who had his feet propped up on his desk, scoffed. “Jake? Oversleep? Yeah, right.”

Sunghoon, who had been absentmindedly flipping through his phone, glanced up, unimpressed. “Maybe he finally decided to quit and live a stress-free life. About time.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the door swung open.

Jake strolled in, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual crisp blazer nowhere to be found. The loosened navy tie around his neck hung effortlessly, and his hair was slightly tousled like he’d been outside for too long.

The Alpha wasn't rushed, not groggy, just calm.

And that was already weird: Jake never looked this relaxed in the morning.

Jay barely lifted his head, but his eyes narrowed.

Heeseung blinked, sitting up slightly. Jungwon paused mid-page turn. Sunoo finally looked up from his drink.

Jake, however, didn’t spare them a single glance.

He just walked straight to his desk, set his bag down, and smiled.

Not his usual morning scowl, not the slightly annoyed expression they were used to, and that alone was enough to make the entire room go quiet.

And then—

“You reek of an omega.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through the silence, lazy but pointed.

Jake didn’t even look up, he didn’t tense, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just shrugged. “New perfume.”

Jay immediately put his pen down.

Sunoo, blinking, looked at Jungwon, then at Jake again. Ni-ki, having just taken a sip of his drink, nearly choked.

“Perfume?” Jungwon repeated, skeptical.

“Yeah,” Jake hummed, still not looking at them. “Wanted to try something different.”

And honestly, it would’ve been believable.

Jake wore cologne. That much was true. But not this. Not this soft. It wasn’t sharp like his usual clean, expensive scent.

It was warmer. Like honey and seawater, subtle but distinct, the kind of scent that only clung to someone when they’d been too close to an omega for too long.

And in a room filled with pureblooded alphas, it wasn’t something that went unnoticed.

But instead of calling him out, Sunghoon just exhaled through his nose, letting it slide. If some omega had thrown themselves at Jake this morning, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

“Damn,” Ni-ki muttered, shaking his head in amusement. “Didn’t know you had a confession today.”

Jake, finally glancing up, raised a brow. “Huh?”

Sunoo smirked. “The omega. They were all over you, weren’t they?”

Jake just rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

But Jay just stared. Because while the others were making their own assumptions, he noticed things.

Like the way Jake’s shoulders were too loose, the way his usually sharp morning glare had been replaced by something almost smug. The way his fingers lingered just a second longer when he reached for his pen.

Jake was weirdly comfortable, and Jay had a feeling it wasn’t because of some random omega.

It was someone specific. It wouldn't take a genius to acknowledge the fact that his scent was all over a specific omega just as much as theirs was all over him.

That same day, the council room was missing something.

Or rather—someone.

Jungwon tapped a pen against his desk, lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze swept across the room. The usual members were in their usual places, some sorting through reports, others murmuring among themselves. But one chair, in particular, remained empty.

Jake’s.

Jungwon turned to the juniors under the secretary committee, his tone expectant. “Did he say anything about missing the meeting?”

The second-years exchanged nervous glances before one of them hesitantly spoke up. “No, President. He didn’t mention anything.”

That made Jungwon pause.

Jake was many things, laid-back, exasperatingly smug, and a flight risk when it came to avoiding unnecessary small talk. But he was also reliable. He never skipped a meeting without at least a heads-up.

Sunoo, lounging lazily in his chair, finally looked up from his phone. “Are we sure he’s not dead?”

Heeseung, ignoring him, strode over to Jake’s desk. His eyes immediately landed on the thick folder placed neatly at the center, its edges aligned with military precision.

He opened it.

Inside were pages upon pages of documents, all labeled, revised, and signed. Every committee task Jake was responsible for? Already handled.

Heeseung huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Sunoo leaned over, peeking at the contents. “So he did everything beforehand, left proof, and then just—what? Vanished?”

Silence.

Then he clapped his hands together. “Well, if everything’s here, we might as well start.”

No one objected, except Jay.

Jay, who hadn’t even looked at the documents because he didn’t need to.

Something about this was off.

It was late.

The university parking lot was nearly empty, save for a few scattered cars and the occasional security guard making his rounds. The group were all making their way toward their rides, conversations overlapping in low murmurs.

The day had been long, the last meeting dragging on longer than expected, and now they were finally free.

"Ugh, I swear, if one more junior asks me to proofread their paperwork—" Sunoo grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Maybe if you didn’t baby them so much, they wouldn’t keep asking," Sunghoon teased, smirking.

Sunoo shot him a glare. "Maybe if you actually showed up to the meetings on time, you’d—"

Jay wasn’t listening.

His attention had been caught by something else.

A few steps ahead of the group, his pace slowed, then stopped entirely as his gaze landed on one of the benches just near the lot.

At first, he didn’t understand what he was looking at.

Jake was there. That in itself wasn’t strange. But Jake wasn’t alone, you were there, too.

And that was what made Jay’s breath catch in his throat; Jake wasn’t just sitting with you.

He was practically curled into you, head nestled snugly against the curve of your neck, his face pressed to your scent gland like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm draped lazily over the back of the bench, one hand resting near your thigh; casual, comfortable, too familiar.

And you? You were just reading.

Flipping through the pages of your book like this was nothing new. Like Jake burying himself against your scent, molding himself into you, wasn’t something worth reacting to.

Jay’s feet refused to move.

It took Heeseung nearly walking into him for the others to notice his sudden stillness.

“Dude, why’d you stop—” Heeseung started, but then his voice faltered when he followed Jay’s gaze.

One by one, the rest of the group turned.

And one by one, their expressions shifted.

“Oh.” Jungwon’s voice was quiet, but filled with realization.

“No way.” Ni-ki blinked.

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms. “Well. That explains a lot.”

Sunoo pressed his lips together, visibly holding back a laugh as he nudged his mate. “I mean, are we even surprised?”

They weren’t.

Not really.

But seeing it—seeing Jake so effortlessly tangled up with you, as if he’d been doing this for years, was something else entirely.

And Jake? Jake was completely oblivious to the fact that they were watching.

If anything, he only seemed to relax further, exhaling deeply against your skin before shifting slightly, adjusting his position so he could press even closer. His nose brushed against your neck, fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to grip your waist.

The sight of it made something click.

Jay had noticed it before, the way Jake had been disappearing more often, the way he had been skipping out on long hours at the council office, the way he had been coming back with a scent that was unmistakably omega, unmistakably settled on his skin.

But now, standing here, watching Jake press into you, breathe you in, claim you without even realizing he was doing it—it made too much sense.

Jay exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Well. That’s new.”

Finally, Jake moved.

Not because he noticed them, no, he was still completely wrapped up in you. It was because you moved.

Without even looking up from your book, you lifted a hand and ran your fingers gently through Jake’s hair, the motion absentminded and natural, like this was routine.

Jake hummed at the touch, actually hummed, his arm tightening slightly around the back of the bench.

The entire group watched in silent disbelief.

Sunghoon blinked. "I feel like we shouldn't be seeing this."

Jungwon huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, but here we are."

Ni-ki raised a brow. "So, are we just gonna stand here and stare, or—?"

Jake had been careful.

Or at least, he thought he had.

But apparently, not careful enough.

Because the second he smelled it—them, it was already too late.

Jake’s body tensed, his nose twitched, and his fingers flexed against the back of the bench. The comfortable warmth of your scent was suddenly invaded, drowned out by something else.

Jake inhaled once again, and immediately regretted it.

⤷ read part 2 here !

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo @in-somnias-world @notcamii @yizhoutv @lovesickth @elairah @graythecoffeebean @skyearby @ikeumina @blckorchidd @littlebambi-isdee @immelissaaa @jakesfurry @dreamy-carat @cristy-101 @m1kkso @h4niyahcar @firstclassjaylee @skyearby @hello0i

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ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆❜𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒊 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

➜ summary: you don't really like jungwon. too bad, he likes you.

pairing: yjw x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: highschool, fluff, w: rude jokes, cussing

Yang Jungwon. Some claimed he was the greatest being to grace the earth since Albert Einstein. Others (okay, just you) thought he was stuck-up, snobby, and a walking narcissist.

Unfortunately, you fell squarely into the latter category. Fortunately, you were also the president, vice-president, and sole member of his anti-fan club. Uncontested views? Check. Lifelong grudge? Check. Emotional maturity? Debatable.

You couldn’t even remember exactly when your vendetta against him began. Maybe it was that time in fourth grade when he beat you in the spelling bee because you messed up the word “friendship.” Who knew there was an ‘i’ in friendship? (Jungwon did. Of course he did.)

Or maybe—and this one still haunts your dreams—it was that fateful night at your first senior party. The lights were dim, the music was loud, and Jungwon spun the bottle. It landed on you. Everyone screamed. He looked you dead in the eye, let out a low chuckle, and said:

“I can’t take her first kiss like this.”

Cue the chorus of laughter that still echoes in your ears during your quiet poops.

So no. You didn’t like Jungwon. At all. Obviously.

You glanced up at the boys near the front of the classroom. They were crowded around the class skeleton, draping a hoodie over its shoulders and pretending it was a hot girl. You blinked once, then sighed long and hard. This was your peer group. Children. Absolute children. To your left, a group of girls giggled behind manicured hands, their eyes glued to their phones. You didn’t have to look twice to know they were texting their college boyfriends, acting like seventeen wasn’t a whole year away from knowing how taxes worked.

Maybe you did, in fact, relate to that one viral Jaden Smith video. The one where he claimed his peers were all stupid and that he preferred to talk about the political and economic state of the world. Maybe you too wanted to host a philosophical podcast at lunch instead of watching Park Jongseong from the neighbouring class pretend the skeleton had an OnlyFans.

But the truth was: you were still in high school. Still surrounded by greasy cafeteria fries, half-hearted gossip, and teenage delusion. You had your own brand of immaturity—though you’d never admit it. You were far too busy judging everyone else to notice your own. Just like any other high schooler.

You turned back to Heeseung, who was slumped dramatically on his desk, face buried in his arms like the world had ended overnight.

“Hee,” you whispered—not exactly a whisper, more like a stage-whisper with yelling ambitions.

He groaned without lifting his head. “Didn’t get any sleep last night. Don’t bother me.”

“You son of a—this is important!”

“Now what,” he mumbled, “could possibly be more important than my beauty sleep?”

“It’s really not my fault you stayed up all night playing that wretched game of—”

“I was this close to Diamond again!” Heeseung sat up with a jolt, eyes wide and bloodshot with the weight of regret. He turned to you, serious as a man whose world had crumbled. “That stupid, no-good Park Sunghoon lost it for all of us.”

You scoffed. “Sure. Blame Sunghoon.”

Your eye roll was practically a full-body movement. Heeseung looked like he was about to launch into a passionate monologue about teamwork and betrayal, but just as he opened his mouth—

The classroom door creaked open.

And in walked the bane of your existence.

Well, not walked exactly. He sauntered in, with the kind of swagger reserved for people who peaked at seventeen. His hand went up lazily in greeting, a wave aimed toward the back of the class.

“Ni-ki!” he called out, voice way too loud for eight in the morning, like he was the only person who existed in this entire room.

You rolled your eyes so hard you could see your own brain. Could he not tell that other people were trying to have a breakdown in peace? Rude.

“Did you wake me up just to stare at Yang Jungwon?” Heeseung muttered..

“No. I actually wanted to ask if you were coming over after school. My mom misses you.”

Heeseung grinned as he stretched, cracking his neck like he was preparing for battle. “I guess even she prefers me over you.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“And your mom will kill you for even thinking about laying hands on her precious son-in-law.”

“We’re not getting married, Lee.”

“I hope not. I’m trying to have good-looking children.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Aw, come on. You love me.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips before you could stop it.

Heeseung shifted, burying his face back into his arms like he was preparing for hibernation, then turned his head just slightly to glance at you.

“Y’know I was kidding, right?” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“You’re pretty,” he said, simple as breathing. “Before you start overthinking in there—” he lazily pointed to your forehead, “—I figured I’d clarify.”

You rolled your eyes, heat threatening to creep up your neck. “Yes, Heeseung. I know you’re joking.”

“Good,” he mumbled, eyes already closing again. “Because if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re stupid.”

And with a dramatic sigh and a yawn, he slipped right back into sleep.

You liked Heeseung. Like… liked liked him.

Maybe it was because he was the only guy friend you had who didn’t make you want to choke yourself with a charging cable. Or maybe it was the way he always knew how far to go with his jokes—never pushing too hard, never making you feel like the punchline. He just got you. Like he had some internal manual titled How to Handle You Without Ruining Everything. He was just… right.

You thought he was handsome. Kind. Genuinely funny. And yet, he never really seemed interested in dating anyone. Which was objectively bizarre, considering how many girls trailed after him.

But he’d just smile, ruffle their hair like an older brother, and say, “I’m sorry, I’m not really looking for anything right now. But thank you for being honest.” Then he’d say something so sweet—so emotionally intelligent—it almost cancelled out the heartbreak.

But it wasn’t like you were in love with the guy. That would be insane. It was just a silly little crush. Something that should’ve faded after a few weeks. Only… it had been six months.

You shrugged to yourself. It’s not like you’d ever act on it. Heeseung was eyeing some fancy art school in Seoul, while you were hoping for SNU, fingers crossed for a spot in English Language and Literature. You were both headed in opposite directions, and you’d made peace with that.

Jungwon wasn’t exactly sure when it started. All he knew was that you had been staring at him for the past few minutes. And not the accidental kind, either. The kind that lingered.

At first, he thought maybe there was something on his face. Food, maybe. Ink? But no—he had checked. Twice. Then he thought you might be staring past him. But there was literally nothing behind him except a dead plant and Ni-ki trying to balance a pen on his nose.

So what was it?

He wasn’t trying to be narcissistic. God, no. Contrary to popular belief, he hated that reputation. He was just curious. Mildly intrigued. Intellectually invested, even. Then you stood up and walked out of the room, presumably to the toilet. And before he could stop himself, Jungwon was at your desk. Sitting in your seat.

He faced the direction you’d been looking, squinting slightly. His eyes landed on his own desk. Then his own chair. Then himself, reflected in the window across from where you sat.

Oh.

Interesting.

His gaze drifted downward. He didn’t mean to snoop. He really didn’t. But there, scribbled hastily at the top of your notebook, was a line repeated over and over in varying levels of despairing handwriting:

“You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him. You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him.”

His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead.

Okay. Wow. That was a lot. Intense, even. Dramatic. A little poetic, if he was being honest.

And then—just to make things worse—his eyes fell on the side pocket of your pencil case. A doodle of a heart. Literally. A heart. With... a J scribbled next to it. Could've been anyone. But this was high school. It was always obvious.

He sat back, blinking in disbelief.

You liked him.

Holy shit.

He stood abruptly, knocking your chair back an inch. He didn’t mean to see all of that. God, he really didn’t. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered a quiet curse under his breath.

And just as he turned to walk away, he heard footsteps behind him. You. Coming back.

Panicked, he grabbed the first thing he saw—your eraser—and pretended to inspect it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. You walked in just in time to see Jungwon squinting down at your strawberry-scented eraser like it held the secrets to the universe.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, blinking.

He looked up, face neutral, maybe a little smug. “Didn’t know you were so into cryptic love notes,” he said, voice maddeningly calm.

You froze. “Huh?”

He pointed casually at your notebook, then raised a brow. “You’re being kind of obvious, you know.”

“Obvious about what?” you snapped, walking back to your seat, already feeling that familiar sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

“Nothing,” he said, smile just barely twitching at the corners. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And with that, he walked off with your eraser in hand.

For the rest of class, you could feel it, eyes burning into the back of your skull like laser beams. Yang Jungwon, for some reason only the gods could explain, wouldn’t stop staring at you.

You turned your head slightly, catching him in the act. His gaze snapped up, caught red-handed. You narrowed your eyes and offered him the most vicious glare you could muster, like you were trying to kill him with pure facial expression alone.

“Stop staring!"

After class, Heeseung shot out of his seat like a rocket, clutching his stomach and mumbling something about the milk he drank that morning definitely being expired.

“I swear to God, if I die like this—” he was already halfway out the door.

You snorted, laughing as you packed up your books, slinging your bag over one shoulder while checking your phone. Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake had already texted the group chat, promising to save you and Heeseung a seat at the cafeteria. You were halfway to freedom.

Until an arm blocked your exit.

“What do you want?”

He tilted his head at you, that same smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Y’know, I was wondering why you were playing this whole... thing. The game. The attitude. The icy act. And now I know.”

You blinked. “Know what?”

He grinned wider, like he was about to drop the world’s most obvious truth bomb. “Still playing dumb?”

“What?”

“Come on.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his own. “Be honest.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, as if you were the one being dramatic. “Dude. It’s obvious. Just give it up.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “What—are you on drugs?”

“No—! I—” He looked personally offended by the question, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “I know you like me.”

Silence.

You looked at Jungwon. Then at the floor. Then back at Jungwon.

And then, you burst out laughing.

“You think—” you gasped between giggles, “you think I like you?”

Another wave of uncontrollable laughter ripped through you. You clutched your side, barely able to breathe.

Jungwon blinked, watching you spiral, visibly unsure if he should be flattered or insulted.

By minute two of your personal stand-up comedy routine, his smile had disappeared completely. His arms crossed. His brows furrowed. The tips of his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“Okay,” he said, arms still crossed, watching you as your laughter finally died down into breathless wheezing. “You done?”

You wiped your eyes, still catching your breath. “I mean—seriously, Jungwon. Me? Like you? Be so serious right now.”

He stared at you like you were the one being delusional. “I am being serious.”

“You stare at me in class,” he said, casually following you. “A lot.”

You turned on your heel. “What? I glare at you in class.”

“Staring is staring,” he shrugged. “Even with murderous intent.”

“That doesn’t count—”

“You always roll your eyes at me”

“That’s because you deserve it.”

He stepped closer. “You laugh at my jokes.”

“They’re not even funny, it’s like pitiful laughter” you snapped.

“But you still laugh.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Jungwon’s eyes glinted like he’d just scored a point in a very dumb game only he was playing. “You let me copy your notes.”

“That’s because you’d fail if I didn’t!”

“You scold me when I forget my umbrella, and you told Jay I shouldn’t drink soda after 10 p.m. because ‘some people are still growing.’”

“That was a general health comment I made once at a party!”

“Sure it was,” he said smugly.

You stared at him, half in disbelief, half… okay, maybe just a tiny bit panicked. Not because he was right. He wasn’t. Obviously. But because somehow, he had compiled a semi-coherent case of you being suspiciously human around him.

“Jungwon,” you said slowly, carefully, like explaining to a child. “I do not like you.”

He squinted at you, like you were a glitch in his very confident reality.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I would rather set myself on fire.”

“And I would bring the marshmallows. But that doesn’t change the fact that you like me.”

You poked your chicken like it was the one who had personally accused you of emotional damage.

“The chicken’s already dead,” Jay said casually.

You looked up and scowled at him. He raised his hands in mock defence.

“Damn. The things I get for just saying stuff.”

“She looks on edge… Should we tell her the bad news now or later?” Jake whispered.

You turned your glare to him. “What bad news?”

“Nothing!” Jake’s voice shot up an octave. His eyes darted away.

You were terrifying when you were pissed. Like, hella terrifying. Only two people could handle you in that state: Heeseung and your mother.

“Sim Jaeyun, I will tear you up.”

Jake folded instantly. “The rumor! The one about you liking Jungwon and how he rejected you!”

You froze.

“What?!”

You looked at Jake, then at the rest of your friends who were now all suddenly very interested in the contents of their trays.

“Who started this rumour?”

“A few upperclassmen overheard your little... conversation,” Jake said, wincing.

“That conversation happened ten minutes ago.” you yelped.

Jay shrugged, grimacing. “You know how this school is. Gossip moves fast.”

“So it’s true?” Sunghoon asked, brows raised.

“Ew no!” you snapped, gagging.

Your friends blinked at you in unison.

“The rumor… it’s kinda spreading through the school really fast,” Jake said carefully. “I tried to stop it.”

“Oh really?” you deadpanned. “What did you do?”

He glanced up, sheepish. “I said, ‘oh really?’”

You stared at him. “That’s your damage control?”

“I don’t know! I was just curious if it was true!”

You rubbed your temples. “Don’t you think you guys would know if it was true?”

Jake opened his mouth, but Heeseung beat him to it. “You rarely tell us anything about that secret crush you’re harboring. We just assumed it was him.”

That made you pause. Your head shot up. “What?”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his seat. “We know you’re in love with someone.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh please,” Jay chimed in. “You’re always scribbling those cringe girly things in your textbooks.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I do not.”

“You literally wrote ‘love is a knife’ next to a drawing of a bleeding heart,” Sunghoon said.

“That was an artistic expression!”

“Was it?” Heeseung said through a mouthful of rice.

Jake nodded. “Also, you wrote ‘you’ll only get hurt, don’t fall for him’ like ten times on your English test paper.”

You clutched your tray like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. “Can we not dissect my mental breakdowns over lunch?!”

The table went quiet for two seconds. Then Jay asked, “So if it’s not Jungwon, then who is it?”

You blinked. Trying not to look over at Heeseung. Then stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jay called.

“To find out who started this rumor,” you said, already storming off.

The noise around you, the clatter of trays, the conversations, the squeak of sneakers on tile—faded into white noise. Your eyes were locked onto one person, and one person only: Yang Jungwon.

He sat at a table near the windows with Ni-ki and Sunoo, laughing at something on Ni-ki’s phone, chopsticks mid-air as he reached for a piece of meat. He didn’t even see you coming.

But he looked up just as your shadow fell over the table.

And the moment his eyes met yours?

It was done.

His expression shifted. Mouth slightly parted. Shock flashing across his face for just a split second before it was replaced by that annoyingly calm, infuriatingly confident smirk. Like he knew.

The entire cafeteria quieted. Forks paused midair. Conversations stopped mid-word. Every single person turned to look. It was like the first ten seconds of a movie scene, right before someone makes a very public mistake.

You didn’t care.

You reached down, grabbed the front of his uniform, and yanked his tie upward, forcing him to stand.

Jungwon stood slowly, the smirk never leaving his face. Your fists were tight in his tie. His face was close now and every pair of eyes in the room was on the two of you.

“We need to talk.”

“Well, whatever happened to ‘hello’?” Jungwon said, his voice laced with amusement as you dragged him out of the cafeteria.

You stopped just outside the doors, where the hallway was quiet and empty except for the vending machine humming in the corner. You turned to face him, still gripping his tie, though you finally let go with a dramatic flick of your wrist.

“Did you start that rumor?” you snapped.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “What rumor?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

He blinked. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There are a lot of rumors about me. I’m very mysterious.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “The one where I like you. You absolute—” You cut yourself off before your vocabulary got too colorful. “Did you spread it?”

“You think I started that rumor?” he asked, grinning as he leaned a shoulder casually against the wall. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know!” you snapped. “Maybe because your ego’s the size of the entire school—”

He held up a hand. “Think about it. Why would I spread the idea that you like me?” He looked at you, head tilted.

You hated that he had a point.

You stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “Look. I don’t like you.”

“Mmm,” he said, pretending to ponder. “Sure.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh, no, totally. You glare at me because you’re overwhelmed with love.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t even like you like that—”

“I know, I know,” Jungwon said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s okay to be scared of your feelings. Happens to the best of—”

“For God’s sake, I like Heeseung!” you snapped, voice loud and sharp enough to slice through the air like a blade.

Silence.

Jungwon went completely still, the smirk wiped off his face so fast it was like it had never been there to begin with. He stared at you.

“I—” you tried.

But the words got stuck somewhere in your throat.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

And in that quiet hallway, you felt the air around you shift. Not because of what you’d said about him but because of what you’d accidentally admitted about someone else.

Your hand flew up, clamping over your mouth.

Too late.

You said it.

Jungwon blinked once, but didn’t speak. He just stood there, his tie slightly wrinkled, hair a little messy from when you’d grabbed him earlier, like the entire moment had punched a hole in whatever game the two of you had been playing.

You stormed off, heart pounding, fingers raking through your hair like they could somehow untangle the mess you’d just made.

“Whoa, you good?”

You looked up and nearly ran straight into Heeseung.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

He looked at you, one brow raised, concern etched across his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You opened your mouth, but your voice came out weird and high-pitched. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” he asked. “I saw you drag Jungwon outside. Thought you were gonna kill him.”

You forced a nod, your heart now beating even faster. Like it was trying to launch itself straight out of your ribcage. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

You tried to brush past him. “Anyway, I should get back to—”

“Wait.” He stepped in front of you gently, blocking your path. “You sure you're okay?”

“I said I’m—” You turned away, flustered, and ran a hand through your hair again, this time tugging a little at the roots. “God. This day is just—stupid.”

“You don’t get like this,” he said. “Not unless something actually gets to you. So are you sure you’re okay?”

You stilled before nodding again.

He watched you for another moment, like he was trying to read between the lines.

“Then… can I ask something?”

You hesitated. “Uh—sure?”

He didn’t look away from you. Didn’t even blink.

“This guy…” Heeseung said quietly. “The one you’ve been writing about. If it’s not Jungwon… then is it someone I know?”

Your brain short-circuited.

“What?” you asked, like maybe if you pretended not to hear him, this wouldn’t be happening.

But Heeseung just looked at you. Really looked at you. And in that second, you could see it—he knew. Of course he did.

He wasn’t dumb. He noticed things. The way your voice shifted when you talked to him. The way you hovered around his desk longer than necessary. The way you went quiet every time he joked about dating someone. The way you scribbled the same damn line in your notebook like your brain couldn’t let it go.

And now he was standing there, trying to be kind about it. He was trying to let you down easy. Just like how he did with those random girls.

He even smiled, just a little, just enough to soften the edges of what was coming. “Is it–”

“It’s me.”

Your head snapped toward the voice.

Jungwon.

“She likes me,” he repeated, like he was confirming a fact. “Didn’t you hear the rumor?”

Heeseung blinked, all the softness in his expression flickering into confusion. “Yeah, I heard. But… isn’t it an unfounded rumor?”

Jungwon pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Well, it’s founded now.”

He looked at Heeseung, then at you. “She likes me.”

The way Jungwon looked at you. And for a second, you understood. And for the first time since this whole disaster started… he was trying to help you. So you nodded.

It was barely a movement, just a small dip of your chin. But Jungwon caught it. And something softened in his expression.

Tears pricked at your eyes, not from anything anyone had said, but from the rejection that hadn’t even come. From the moment you realized Heeseung had been preparing to let you down gently, and you’d beat him to it with a lie.

You turned your gaze toward Jungwon, voice quiet and raw.

“I lied before,” you said. “I like Jungwon.”

That caught Heeseung off guard. He blinked, his brows drawing together. “Hm?”

You couldn’t look at him anymore.

“We just… finished having a little chat, y’know?” Jungwon stepped in smoothly, voice light. “And we decided to give things a try.”

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

Because now you were standing in a lie of your own making, held up only by Jungwon’s unexpected kindness. And somewhere deep down, it hurt more than if Heeseung had just said no.

You couldn’t look up at Heeseung.

You wanted to. You wanted to explain, to laugh it off, to make the world rewind ten minutes—but you couldn’t. You could only look at Jungwon. The boy you hated. The boy who annoyed you more than anyone else on Earth.

But right now?

He was your only hope.

And then you felt it.

His hand, slowly sliding into yours, warm and solid. His other arm came around your shoulder, holding you just enough to make it look real.

You looked up at him, your back fully turned to Heeseung now, and mouthed, “Get me out of here.”

Jungwon’s fingers tightened around yours.

And for the first time since you'd met him, you saw something completely unfamiliar in his face. Just a quiet seriousness in the way he nodded. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly how badly this was hurting you.

He cleared his throat and looked back at Heeseung.

“Sorry, bro,” Jungwon said. “If it’s okay with you… I really need to tell her something in private. We haven’t really fine-tuned the specifics of our new relationship, so…”

He let the words trail off with a shrug, like this was nothing.

Heeseung blinked, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, and his voice was quieter now. Then, even softer, “You’re okay?”

“Mhm,” you managed, your voice barely there. “I am.”

“Good.”

You just let Jungwon lead you down the hall, your fingers still laced in his.

You were still crying, your face buried in the front of your mortal enemy’s uniform, and your fists clenched weakly into the fabric like you didn’t know where else to hold on. Your body trembled from the sobs you couldn’t seem to swallow, and it was humiliating in the kind of way that burned. But you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe you were falling apart like this in front of him.

And yet, there was Jungwon.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t tease, didn’t laugh, didn’t pull away like he normally would’ve if this had happened on any other day in any other world. He just stood there, arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand patting your back with the kind of clumsy way that said he had absolutely no idea what he was doing but he was doing it anyway. Slowly, his palm flattened, movements gentler, slower, as if he finally knew how to comfort you. His fingers brushed circles along your spine, and for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like it was him.

You hiccupped between sobs, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said softly, and you hated how kind his voice sounded.

“I hate you,” you added, almost out of reflex, the words heavy and desperate and stupid.

That made him snort, and you felt the faintest rise of his chest with it. “You’re the one sobbing into me, not the other way around.”

You weakly punched his chest with the side of your fist, not even enough force to matter. “Shut up.”

Eventually, the tears stopped.

Not all at once, but slowly. Like your body had run out of grief for the moment and was now just tired. The shaking eased. Your breathing slowed. The front of Jungwon’s shirt was slightly damp where your face had been, and the realization of that sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crawling up your spine.

You pulled back just enough to wipe at your eyes with the sleeves of your uniform, not looking at him. His arm was still around your shoulder, though he loosened it a little like he wasn’t sure if it was still needed. He didn’t say anything right away. He gave you space to gather yourself.

Then you cleared your throat, “How bout that weather…”

“You really don’t like talking about your feelings.”

“Not to you.” You said.

“Right…” He nodded.

Then he was quiet again, like he was letting you bask in the silence.

“You know,” he said slowly, resting his chin on his hand, “now it’s starting to make a little more sense.”

“What is?” you asked, wary.

He shrugged. “Y’know… the way you brighten up when Heeseung walks into the classroom—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you actively trying to push me down a slippery slope right now?”

“No but if it helps,” he added, “I think you handled it way better than I would’ve.”

You didn’t really speak to Jungwon for the rest of the day.

Not because you were mad at him. Not even because things were awkward. You just figured he’d already done enough for you. The least you could do was give him some space. Let him sit at his desk, laugh at whatever Ni-ki was whispering beside him, and pretend today had been normal.

But it was hard.

It was hard not to think about it when Lee Heeseung was sitting directly in front of you…existing.

You stared at the back of his head, trying to focus on anything else. The clock ticking too slow. The corner of your worksheet. The pen cap between your fingers. Anything.

And then it happened.

Another wave of emotion.

You felt it build in your chest rising fast, sharp and hot, wrapping around your lungs until it was hard to breathe. A quiet whimper slipped out before you could stop it. You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, panic rising.

Heeseung started to turn in his seat, halfway twisting to check on you. “Hey, are you—?”

You stood up abruptly.

Didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Just walked fast, unsteady, as you made your way across the classroom. Jungwon was at the back, hunched over his notebook, laughing at something Ni-ki had drawn in the margins.

You stopped beside his desk, eyes already glassy. He turned, mid-laugh, only to freeze when he saw your face. The smile fell. His eyes darted to your hands, then your face again, immediately reading the panic.

His chair scraped back as he stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, voice lower now.

You swallowed hard. “I felt emotion.”

He blinked. “That’s… great?”

“Negative emotion,” you clarified, your voice barely holding steady.

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just stepped around his chair and gently took your wrist, guiding you away from the rows of desks, past curious glances and hushed whispers. You felt Ni-ki’s eyes follow you as Jungwon pulled you toward the door.

“Come on,” he murmured.

And you followed.

Because even though he was the last person you ever imagined seeking comfort from…

He was the only one who actually knew what to do with you.

Jungwon didn’t say a word as he led you up the stairs, his grip on your wrist light but steady.

You just followed…past the classroom door, past curious stares, past whatever thoughts were trying to claw their way into your head. Up one flight of stairs, then another. The world narrowed to the sound of your footsteps and the quiet hum of the building.

When he pushed open the rooftop door, the breeze hit you first. You stepped out slowly, blinking at the sudden wash of sunlight, and Jungwon finally let go of your wrist. He walked ahead a few steps, then turned and sat on the short concrete ledge that wrapped around the rooftop’s edge. His shoulders relaxed, his usual energy fading into something quieter as he glanced toward the sky. For once, he didn’t fill the silence with teasing.

You stood there for a second, arms crossed over your chest, not sure if the tightness in your throat was going to come back or not.

Then you let out a breath and walked over to sit beside him.

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the sky, one leg bouncing slightly against the ledge, like he was giving you space to start first—if you wanted to.

“I didn’t mean to cry,” you said eventually.

“Well…you’re processing all of this in just one day so I figured…you wouldn’t be too…okay.”

You turned to look at him. He was still facing forward, but there was something in the set of his jaw, the way his hands were folded loosely in his lap that told you he wasn’t brushing this off. He was listening.

After a moment, he tilted his head and finally looked at you.

“I get why you didn’t tell him,” he said. “Heeseung.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You didn’t want to ruin the thing you had. You liked the version of him that didn’t know. It was safer.”

You blinked.

He wasn’t wrong.

You looked down at your hands. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he said. “You’re a good person.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t used to Jungwon being serious. You weren’t used to anyone being this gentle with you when you were messy and falling apart. You opened your mouth to say something but your voice didn’t come out.

Instead, you just sat there, next to the boy you hated. The boy who pretended to be your 2 minute boyfriend for the sake of your dignity.

The wind picked up slightly, tousling your hair as you stared down at your hands, the silence between you and Jungwon finally feeling a little less heavy.

You didn’t expect it when he said, “Do you want a hug?”

You looked up, surprised. “What?”

He shifted a little, clearly second-guessing himself now that the words were out. “You know. Like—just if it helps. People do that. In sad movies and stuff.”

You gave him a look. “Are you insane? Why would I hug you?”

“Well… I’m sorry for offering one! I thought girls liked it—I watched a movie—”

“If I hug you, will you shut up?” you cut in, glaring.

“No. Now I don’t want to hug you anymore,” Jungwon said, crossing his arms.

“Oh please. You’re such a child.”

“Oh, I’m the child?” he scoffed. “Just accept the warm embrace of an acquaintance trying to help you.”

“Gross.”

“Oh, real mature,” he snapped.

“I’ll have you know I am mature,” you replied, poking a finger into his arm.

“Oh really?” he shot back. “Crying over someone and then not being brave enough to hug your mortal enemy who’s been helping you sounds super mature.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I am mature.”

“Prove it.”

“I will!”

“Go ahead, then!”

You stepped forward, arms raised like a dare. “Look. I’ll hug you right now!”

And just as you lunged forward—arms out, dramatically wrapping around Jungwon in the most half-committed, competitive embrace of all time—

“HEY!”

You both froze mid-hug, heads turning slowly toward the rooftop door where the school security guard was now standing, arms crossed and judgment fully loaded.

Jungwon's arms were still halfway around you. Your face was about three inches from his shoulder. Neither of you moved.

“You two!” the guard shouted. “You think I don’t see you?! This is a school, not a honeymoon!”

You jumped back so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Wait—no—we weren’t—!” you yelped.

“We don’t even like each other like that!” Jungwon added quickly, already putting space between you two like it would erase the entire situation.

The guard squinted. “Uh-huh. Down the stairs. Now.”

“But we didn’t even—”

“Go!”

You opened the door to your house and stepped inside, already dreading what fresh embarrassment awaited you. Kicking your shoes off at the door, you called out automatically, “I’m home!”

From the kitchen came your mom’s voice, loud and cheerful: “Did Heeseung come today?”

Your soul left your body.

“No,” you called back, grimacing. “I… brought another friend though.”

The word friend felt foreign and uncomfortable in your mouth. It sounded wrong.

Behind you, Jungwon stepped in, hands in his pockets, looking around curiously like he was touring a museum. His eyes skimmed over the hallway, the furniture, the wall of framed photos—until one in particular made him pause.

“Cute,” he said, pointing at a picture hung slightly crooked on the wall.

You turned your head.

It was you. Age six. Dressed in mismatched pajamas, standing in the backyard with a watermelon slice in both hands and two missing front teeth.

You groaned, already regretting everything about this.

Jungwon turned to you, grinning like he’d just discovered a secret.

“Don’t.”

“But it’s so cute.”

“I will push you down the stairs.”

Then your mom appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh! Is this him?” she beamed.

You didn’t even have time to introduce him before Jungwon stepped forward with a charming smile and said, “Hi Auntie, I’m Jungwon. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Instead, your mom smiled like she’d just met her future son-in-law and said, “Jungwon? The Yang Jungwon? My daughter talks about you all the time.”

Jungwon smirked, “She does? Good things, I hope.”

Your mom paused, visibly digging through memories.

“Well,” she said, thoughtfully, “he doesn’t look anything like you described.”

Your stomach dropped. “Mom.”

Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “Oh? How did she describe me?”

Your mom smiled warmly, like this was the most innocent conversation in the world. “Do you know that green monster? It’s this cartoon she used to love? What’s it called… Shrill…Shr…Shrek?”

Jungwon’s smile froze.

“Shrek?”

Your mom nodded, completely sincere. “Yes! But I don’t see it. You’re very handsome.”

Jungwon turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You think I look like Shrek?”

You stared at the ceiling, wishing for divine intervention. “Well. Are you forgetting that I hate you or–”

“Sweetheart,” your mom interjected, “we do not hate.”

You sighed. “You didn’t let me finish. I meant to say I don’t hate him anymore.”

Jungwon blinked. “Anymore?”

Your mom raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you said you wanted to boil him alive?”

“Oh wow,” Jungwon muttered. “That’s awfully graphic.”

You gave her a look. “A day can change someone’s opinion.”

Your mom ignored you, looking over to Jungwon and beamed. “Would you like some oranges?”

You stood up immediately. “He’s probably busy, I’m walking him out.”

“Stay for dinner!” she called.

“She’s gonna kill me,” Jungwon whispered.

“Not on my watch,” your mom said, standing in front of the doorway like a tiny but terrifying general. “Stay for dinner. This is a demand.”

Jungwon blinked. “Okay.”

He nodded obediently, already kicking his shoes off. You stared at him, betrayed by the switch up. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you.

You glared. You knew he was enjoying this.

Ten minutes later, you were upstairs, towel in hand, trying to mentally detach yourself from the fact that Jungwon was in your kitchen. With your mom. Bonding.

You could still hear them through the floor vents.

The occasional “Oh, she did what?” from Jungwon that made you slam your door shut just a little louder than necessary.

Downstairs, Jungwon stood at the counter beside your mom, sleeves rolled up as he helped slice vegetables for dinner. It was strangely peaceful.

“She’s stubborn,” your mom said as she chopped green onions with practiced precision. “She gets it from her father.”

“Oh yeah,” Jungwon replied with a smirk. “She once refused to do group work unless we let her pick the team name.”

“She picked the name, didn’t she?”

“Friends 4ever. With the number four.’”

Your mom laughed.

“She’s a little difficult, you know,” she added, softer now. “Strong-willed. Always arguing.”

“She’s kind of like that at school, too,” he said. “Always trying to win every conversation. Gets dramatic about almost everything. Complains about anything.”

“But I guess…” he continued, glancing toward the stairs without meaning to, “she’s also the first person to offer you her charger when your phone’s dying. Or send you the notes even when you didn’t ask. She’ll grumble the whole time, but she’ll do it. Even if she claims she hates you.”

He paused. “She’s kind of… sweet. When no one’s watching.”

Your mom didn’t say anything, just quietly slid another cutting board toward him.

“And,” Jungwon said after a moment, his eyes flicking back to the tomatoes he was slicing, “she’s… really something.”

Your mom didn’t respond, just kept chopping, quiet and patient.

He kept going, almost like he was talking to himself now.

“She does this thing when she’s mad—flips her hair, real dramatic. It’s actually kind of funny. Like she’s about to fight someone. As if anyone could take her seriously.”

Your mom chuckled softly.

“And when she’s nervous,” Jungwon added, “she bites her finger. Not like the finer but just the nail. Like she doesn’t know she’s doing it which is probably why her nails are so brittle and short all the time.”

There was a small pause.

“And she has this smile,” he said, voice softer now, the rhythm of his chopping slowing. “It’s kinda crooked. Only shows on one side at first. And it only shows up when she thinks no one’s looking.”

He let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.

“It’s cute.”

He didn’t even realize he’d said it.

Your mom didn’t say anything.

She just looked at him.

And for a split second, Jungwon realized he may have said a little too much.

But your mom just gave a small nod and turned back to her vegetables. She didn’t say anything, not then. Not about the way he’d talked about you. Not about the little smile that had curled at the corner of his mouth without him noticing.

She just let it sit there.

Like maybe, just maybe, she knew.

Because whether he realized it or not…

Jungwon liked you.

Dinner was a mistake.

Not because the food wasn’t good, your mom had gone all out, as usual, and Jungwon, the absolute traitor, had already complimented the soup three separate times.

No. The mistake was sitting down across from both of them like you were the guest of those roasts celebrities did.

“She used to cry if her rice was touching the sauce so we had to separate it far apart,” your mom said, setting a bowl in front of Jungwon.

“I did not,” you muttered, stabbing a piece of tofu.

“You definitely did,” your mom confirmed.

“That explains so much,” Jungwon said, barely holding in a laugh.

You rolled your eyes. “I was five.”

“She was five and dramatic,” your mom added, sitting down beside you.

“She’s still dramatic,” Jungwon said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You glared at him across the table. “I can literally throw this bowl at your head.”

“She says that, but she won’t,” he smirked. “Too soft.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not soft.”

“Oh really?” he grinned, leaning over the table slightly. “Say it again without pouting.”

“I’m not—!”

But before you could finish, he reached forward and pinched both of your cheeks at once, squishing your face together.

“You’re adorable,” he said in the most irritatingly smug voice you’d ever heard.

“Yang Jung–” You burst into laughter, batting his hands away while trying to keep a straight face. “Get off me!”

He sat back, grinning, while you glared at him through the tail end of your laughter.

And then it hit you, your mom had gone silent.

You both turned at the same time.

She was watching the two of you with her chin in her hand, smiling.

“What?” you and Jungwon said in unison.

She didn’t answer. Just smiled.

After helping your mom with the dishes, Jungwon stood by the door, sliding his shoes back on with the same efficiency he did everything else.

You hovered near the entryway, arms crossed lightly over your chest. The words were already building in your throat, but when they finally came out, they sounded more like a mumble.

“Thanks… for today.”

He looked up mid–shoelace knot, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re surprisingly fun to hang out with,” you added, slightly louder, refusing to make eye contact.

“Oh really now?” Jungwon grinned.

“I’m not repeating it.”

“Didn’t say you had to,” he said, pulling the knot tight and standing up with a sigh.

He glanced down at you, smile softer now. “Not gonna lie… I had fun today too.”

You nodded. “It was… a little dramatic. But fun. Even though half the day was me crying.”

“You’re taking today better than anyone would’ve,” he said.

“Well, yeah. Because I’m strong.” You smiled, baring your teeth just a little like it was part joke, part fact.

“You are,” he said without missing a beat. “You did really good today.”

You blinked. Your smile faded, just slightly, the air around you going a little still.

Because he wasn’t joking.

He wasn’t teasing, or playing, or waiting to say something sarcastic afterward.

And for some reason, that made your chest ache in a way that was hard to explain.

You nodded, looking down at your socks. “Right. Thanks.”

“It’s fine,” he said, rocking on his heels. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” you echoed. A slow, skeptical smile crept onto your face. “I’m friends with Yang Jungwon?”

He smirked. “Surprise, surprise. Turns out I’m actually real fun and a decent guy. The things you find out when your first love breaks your heart.”

Your smile dropped instantly into a frown.

He winced. “Too soon?”

“You think?” you deadpanned.

Jungwon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fair. Poor timing.”

You shook your head, the edge of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips again despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Still your friend, though,” he said, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

The next few days were… funny.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you and Jungwon. Whispered questions trailed behind you in the hallways. Side glances turned into straight-up stares. Were the two of you really dating? Was it serious? Were you holding hands after school or just walking next to each other by accident?

You didn’t bother answering. Neither did Jungwon.

Let them wonder.

And maybe that was the problem. Because you weren’t exactly doing anything to make it look less real.

You hung out with him more now. A lot more. Every lunch break, after eating with your usual group, you’d pick up your tray and walk over to his table like it was muscle memory. You’d sit beside him, sometimes across, depending on the day. And it never felt weird.

In fact, it felt... easy.

Your friends didn’t say much. They’d just exchange glances or smile knowingly as you wandered off with your tray, all of them clearly under the impression that the two of you were trying to date. Trying to “work it out.”

And you let them think that.

Maybe because correcting them would mean explaining how stupid your first heartbreak (if you could even call it that) felt.

And if you thought about it too hard, about how Jungwon always saved you a seat without asking, or how he passed you the parts of his lunch you liked without a word, or how he said things like "you look tired today" in a voice that made you feel seen.

You were sure you didn’t have any feelings for Jungwon. None. Whatsoever. The idea was laughable, really. Besides, you were still emotionally recuperating from your extremely inconvenient, mildly soul-crushing crush on Heeseung. It had been a whole month since the incident. You were healing. You were doing so much better now. You could even look at Heeseung and have a full conversation without tearing your eyelids off or biting your tongue in half. That was progress. Real, mature, adult-level progress.

And okay, so maybe you hung out with Jungwon a lot. And maybe he texted you dumb TikToks at 2 a.m. and maybe you always answered. And maybe you knew his favorite bubble tea order by heart now and maybe he always ate the cherry tomato from your lunch when you didn’t want it. But that didn’t mean anything.

Lunch was loud as usual, someone shouting across the cafeteria, trays clattering, a wave of laughter erupting from one of the far tables. You tuned most of it out as you made your way to the back, tray in hand, moving on autopilot.

You didn’t even ask if you could sit next to him anymore. You just did.

Jungwon was already mid-conversation with Ni-ki, hands moving as he animatedly reenacted something ridiculous like Sunoo falling down the stairs again. You set your tray down next to his, plopped into the seat, and sighed.

“Aw man, I forgot my banana milk.”

You didn’t expect anyone to answer. You hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

But without missing a beat, Jungwon reached into the side pocket of his backpack, pulled out a packet of banana milk, and slid it across the table toward you, all while still talking to Ni-ki.

“Oh, yay!” You mumbled.

He just nodded like it was nothing, like this was routine, like he hadn’t just read your mind.

You opened the straw, eyes still on him, quietly puzzled.

Then he reached for the pair of disposable chopsticks sitting on your tray. Snapped them clean in one quick motion. Rubbed them together, precisely three times, just the way you did when you thought they felt too splintery.

Again, he didn’t say anything. Just broke the chopsticks and placed them neatly back on your tray before going back to his story.

And you were still sitting there, watching him.

Then came the final hit: your tonkatsu.

You hadn’t even started eating yet. Just poking at the rice absentmindedly, eyes wandering around the cafeteria while you waited for your brain to feel like food. But Jungwon, with his fork already halfway through his own meal, glanced at your tray and casually reached over with your knife cutting up your tonkatsu into neat little pieces before you even realized it.

He didn’t even look.

He just did it.

All while telling Ni-ki about how someone had nearly set the chem lab on fire.

You sat there, twiddling your thumbs, watching him work through your tray like he’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was muscle memory. Like it was natural.

And that was the moment it hit you.

He knew you.

Not just the surface-level stuff. Not just your favorite color or your star sign or your Instagram handle.

He knew how you liked your chopsticks. Knew your go-to drink without asking. Knew when you weren’t feeling hungry enough to start on your food, but still wanted it ready.

You didn’t even know when he started paying attention.

But he had.

You stared at him.

He looked up mid-sentence and blinked. “What?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t supposed to turn into a routine.

But it did.

Ever since that one dinner at your house, Jungwon had started coming over. At first, once. Then again. Then twice a week. Now, it was just expected. Part of the schedule.

Your mom adored him. Naturally.

And somehow, your dad, who was barely home before 9 p.m. most days, knew him too. Not in the passing, handshake-and-small-talk kind of way. No. He knew him. Asked him about his classes. Invited him to stay for dessert. Offered him beer once. Jungwon declined politely, of course, but still. You weren’t sure your dad even knew your blood type, and yet he knew Jungwon’s college plans.

He was a crowd favorite in your house.

And he made himself at home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He knew where everything went now. The moment you stepped into the entryway after school, he’d lean down, take your coat off your shoulders without being asked, and hang it by the door while placing his shoes neatly on the rack. Then he’d stroll into the kitchen to greet your mom with the same cheery “Hi, Auntie!” like he lived there.

He’d wait for you to finish showering..

And by the time you came out, hair damp, wrapped in your towel robe, your favorite show would already be playing on the living room TV. He’d set a hot cup of tea in front of the couch, carefully positioned at your usual spot. He never drank it himself. Just made it for you. Every time.

You never had to ask.

Then he’d return to the kitchen to help your mom with dinner, sleeves rolled up, chopping and washing and stirring like he belonged in that apron. You could hear them from the living room. Talking. Giggling over some ridiculous story he’d tell about you at school. How you tripped over your own shoelaces in front of the vending machine. How you pretended to be allergic to gym just to avoid running.

Your mom loved it. Ate it all up.

And then came dinner.

He’d set the table without being asked. Laid out all your favorite dishes in front of your seat. Your favorite part of the chicken already on your plate—deboned. The kimchi snipped into bite-sized pieces with the kitchen scissors, just the way you liked it.

You sat down, glanced at your plate, and everything was already done.

He didn’t even sit until you did.

And you never asked him to do any of it.

He just did.

Like he'd been watching and learning you this whole time.

And it was easy, so, so easy to pretend it was normal.

But every now and then, while sipping your tea and watching him laugh with your family like he was part of it, you’d get this strange feeling in your chest.

Dinner was normal. Jungwon was helping your dad refill side dishes, your mom was happily recounting a story from her work, and you were comfortably tucked into the rhythm of your usual meal. For a while, everything felt good.

Until, mid-bite, your mom looked up and said, “By the way, sweetheart… how’s Heeseung?”

You froze.

It wasn’t even a pointed question. Just a casual thought, dropped innocently into the center of the table like it wasn’t going to crack everything open.

She laughed a little, smiling to herself. “I still remember how the two of you kept saying you’d marry each other when you grew up. Now I rarely see him.” She sighed, fond and wistful. “Kids grow up so fast, huh, dear?”

Your dad chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Ah, well. He’s a smart boy. Probably busy studying.”

You nodded, careful to keep your voice light. “Yeah. I’ll ask him to come over with the others next time they’re free.”

“Oh, please do,” your mom said. “I miss them.”

You nodded again, forcing a smile, trying to say all the right things because that’s what you did.

But then your eyes drifted across the table.

To Jungwon.

He was quietly playing with a piece of chicken on his plate. Not eating. Not listening.

Just moving it around like it didn’t matter.

Like he didn’t want to be there.

And it bothered you.

“Won,” you said softly, “you okay?”

He looked up quickly, blinking like you’d snapped him out of something. His expression didn’t falter, not even for a second. A smile appeared right on cue—bright, easy.

“Yeah,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m good!”

Then, without missing a beat, he popped the chicken into his mouth and turned to your dad with a question about soccer, like the moment had never happened.

Like he hadn’t just gone completely silent.

Like the name Heeseung hadn’t changed the entire air around him.

You stared for a moment longer, something tight curling in your stomach.

He was acting normal.

And that was the most unconvincing part of all.

You were laying on your stomach, sprawled across your bed like roadkill, head buried halfway into your pillow and the corners of your math textbook stabbing your ribs. The numbers blurred in and out of focus. Functions, graphs, equations, you were pretty sure none of this was going to help you in your actual future unless you somehow grew up to become a calculator.

“This is actual torture,” you groaned.

Jungwon, who had been spinning gently in your roller chair like he lived there, snorted. “Oh, c’mon. There’s literally two more questions.”

“That’s two more than I want to do,” you grumbled.

He rolled over beside you and reached out to poke your side, right where he knew you were ticklish. You flinched with a squeak, kicking your leg back without looking.

“Fine!” you whined dramatically, lifting your head just enough to glare at the textbook. “But I genuinely think they should’ve used math for death row instead of the guillotine.”

Jungwon just laughed and started reading out the next question aloud, voice low and casual. He mumbled through the word problem, pausing here and there as he tried to figure it out, assuming you were listening.

But you weren’t.

Not really.

Because at some point, your eyes had drifted toward him and they hadn’t moved since.

You watched the way his lips moved around, soft and easy, every syllable deliberate. You noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed when he got stuck, how his eyes went wider when something clicked. How he bit his lip when he was trying to remember a formula. How he licked the corner of his mouth absentmindedly when he was really thinking.

You blinked.

And then blinked again.

Because suddenly you were no longer hearing anything he was saying.

Instead, all you could think about was how close he was. How warm his voice was. How much you wanted to lean forward and—

Your heart stuttered. You blinked hard and sat up a little too quickly, grabbing your pencil like it was some sort of emotional grounding stick.

Did you just—?

Were you actually just thinking about kissing Jungwon? Yang Jungwon.

You stared at your textbook in horror, the numbers looking even worse now.

You were in trouble.

“Okay, seriously,” Jungwon sighed, dragging his chair closer. “You’re just not listening at this point.”

“I am listening,” you lied, gripping your pencil tightly.

“You’ve been stuck on the same question for more than five minutes.”

You blinked at him, heart still racing from your earlier thoughts. “Well, maybe if math was as interesting as, I don’t know, literally anything else—”

“Okay, that’s it,” he muttered, rolling his chair right up to your bedside and leaning over your textbook. “Come here. I’m showing you.”

Before you could protest, he was right there, sliding the textbook toward both of you, one hand pressed casually beside your arm, the other using his pen to point at the equation. His voice was low, focused.

“So here, this part,” he said, tapping the numbers, “you just need to factor this term and then move it to the other side.”

You tried to follow.

You really did.

But your brain had fully abandoned you. All you could focus on was how close he was. The warm brush of his arm against yours. The subtle scent of his shampoo—something citrusy and soft. His lips moved just inches from your face, forming words you couldn’t process. His eyelashes flicked downward, dark and long, as he concentrated.

And then he paused, glancing up when he noticed your lack of response.

“Are you even—”

He turned to look at you.

And you were already looking at him.

The movement brought your faces dangerously close, just an inch between your mouths. Close enough to feel his breath catch. Close enough to notice the way his lips parted slightly in surprise. Close enough that if either of you tilted just a little, you’d be kissing.

Everything around you faded, the ticking of your clock, the noise outside, the textbook lying open and ignored between you.

He didn’t move.

Neither did you.

The space between you was impossibly small—an inch, maybe less. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. Your heart thudded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Neither were you.

Jungwon’s eyes dropped briefly to your mouth.

Your breath hitched.

And then, softly, gently his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered at your jaw, featherlight.

“Would it be stupid if I kissed you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened.You shook your head.

He leaned in the tiniest bit, like the air between you was magnetic, like maybe you were already meeting halfway—

Knock knock knock

“My love, I cut some oranges!”

You both flinched, violently.

You practically fell off the bed. Jungwon shot back in his chair so fast it nearly rolled into the wall.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then your mom’s voice called again, cheerful and oblivious: “Should I bring them in?”

“No!” you and Jungwon shouted at the same time.

Another beat of silence.

“…Okay, then,” she replied, still chipper, her footsteps padding back down the hallway.

You stared at the floor, heart hammering, trying to remember how to breathe.

Jungwon cleared his throat.

You still couldn’t look at him.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

Neither of you spoke.

You just turned back to the math textbook.

But suddenly, you couldn’t remember what the question was anymore.

Jungwon was the first to move.

Fast.

Too fast.

He stood up abruptly, muttering something about homework and his mom probably texting him. He was already grabbing his bag, already rolling his sleeves back down, already not looking at you.

You blinked.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

Just a quick, “See you tomorrow,” tossed over his shoulder like it meant nothing. Like you weren’t both still sitting in the ruins of something that almost happened.

And then the door shut behind him.

The next day at school, neither of you said a word.

You saw him across the courtyard that morning, maybe thirty feet away. Normally, you would’ve walked beside him, bumped shoulders, made some snarky comment about his bed hair. But today?

You turned the other way.

By the time Math class rolled around, your nerves were already shot.

You walked into the classroom a few minutes early, automatically glancing toward his seat.

Empty.

Good.

You sat down, keeping your eyes locked on your desk. Your stomach felt weird.

Jungwon came in two minutes later, quietly slipping into his seat like a ghost. Not a single glance in your direction. Not even the usual eye-roll or quiet hey.

You didn't look at him either.

Not once.

And then the teacher began going through the homework questions.

“Alright,” she said, tapping her marker against the whiteboard. “Now for question eight. Let’s go over this together. Anyone want to walk me through it?”

Your eyes dropped to your open textbook.

There it was.

Question eight.

The one he was explaining. The one you weren’t listening to. The one you didn’t hear a single word of because you were too busy staring at his mouth and imagining something that never happened.

“I need to go to the bathroom!”

Both of you said it at the exact same time.

The entire class turned.

Even the teacher paused, marker still in hand, eyebrows rising slowly.

You didn’t dare look at him. Not directly. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jungwon frozen mid-shuffle, eyes slightly wide, caught in the same panic as you.

A beat of silence passed.

“...Is there something wrong with the school water?” your teacher asked dryly.

No one laughed.

No one said anything.

You both stood there like two idiots sharing one brain cell, equally horrified that you’d spoken in sync, equally determined not to explain why.

“Fine,” your teacher sighed after a moment and then waved her hand. “Go.”

You didn’t wait.

The next thing you knew, you both bolted out of the room like you were fleeing a crime scene.

You kept walking. He kept walking. Until finally, both of you turned a corner—empty corridor, cold tile, no witnesses.

“We need to talk.”

Jungwon was the first to speak, voice quiet but steady.

You shifted your weight, eyes flicking away. “About what?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know what.”

You crossed your arms. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I do,” he said, firmer this time. “I don’t know about you, but you’ve become a routine to me. So I can’t possibly pretend nothing’s wrong. Because it’ll feel weird if I can’t… do things for you. If I can’t be next to you.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “Jungwon—school barely started.”

“And we didn’t even go into class together.”

His voice cracked just slightly at the end.

You finally looked at him.

He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even pushing. He just looked... lost. Like he didn’t know where to put any of this.

“I didn’t know if I should say hi,” he added quietly. “I didn’t know if I should sit next to you. If I should look at you. And that’s the part that freaked me out the most.”

“Look,” Jungwon said, his voice lower now, more careful. “We can pretend it didn’t happen last night.”

You blinked at him, heart stalling.

“Like we didn’t almost kiss,” he added, like saying it out loud might make it less real. “If it makes you feel better.”

You stayed quiet.

Not because you didn’t have anything to say.

But because you didn’t know how to say it. Because the word almost hit harder than it should’ve. Because it hadn’t happened but it almost did. And that almost felt like a confession in its own right.

Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. I mean—it was late. We were tired. You were upset. It’s probably better we didn’t—”

“Don’t,” you said suddenly.

He froze. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to explain it away like it didn’t mean anything.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And for a second, neither of you breathed.

“I’m not saying it meant something,” you added quickly, heart pounding now. “I’m just saying… don’t pretend like it didn’t almost…happen..”

Jungwon swallowed hard. Nodded once. “Then…should we talk about it?”

You were about to nod–

“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice called out, casual and bright, like he hadn’t just stepped straight into the middle of something fragile. “You ready to head to the next class?”

You jolted upright. Your body moved before your mind could catch up. The sudden intrusion cracked the moment like glass underfoot. Jungwon stiffened beside you, his eyes flicking to Heeseung, then back to you.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t offer even a quiet “see you later.”

Something in him shifted. A flicker of hesitation. A wall going up too fast to stop. You weren’t sure what it was, not exactly but it made your stomach twist, cold and tight. He just looked at you, a beat too long, like he was deciding whether or not to say something. And then he didn’t. He turned and walked away.

But just before he rounded the corner, he looked back.

That one glance hit harder than anything else he could’ve done. You met his eyes. For half a second, neither of you blinked.

Then you shook your head.

And you followed Heeseung.

He didn’t seem to notice at first. Just walked next to you, casual as always, your shoulder brushing his in the way it used to feel comforting. Today it felt like pressure.

It was silent for a while. Then, gently, Heeseung asked, “Are you okay?”

Your throat tightened. The honest answer formed before you could lie.

“No,” you said, quiet and shaky.

He stopped walking. Turned to face you fully, brows furrowed now. “Does this have something to do with… Jungwon?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t. There was a sharp sting in your chest. A lump in your throat you couldn’t seem to swallow down. Because it wasn’t just the almost-kiss or the silence or the way he couldn’t look at you in class. It was the fact that you didn’t want to pretend anymore. And it was terrifying.

You nodded.

Just once.

And suddenly the hallway felt too long, and your next class felt impossibly far away, and your heart… didn’t know what to do with itself anymore.

Jungwon shouldn’t have looked back.

He knew it the second he did, that one glance over his shoulder felt like walking into the very thing he was trying to leave behind. But he looked anyway.

And there you were. Standing beside Heeseung. Nodding. Following.

Not him.

Jungwon’s jaw clenched. He turned back around quickly, the hallway ahead of him blurring around the edges. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping to see. That you’d hesitate? That you’d stop? That maybe you’d chase him?

But you didn’t.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to breathe through the pressure that had started building in his chest. It was stupid. All of it. You weren’t even dating. The fake thing had never meant to go this far.

Except.

He was ready.

Or at least, he had been right up until Heeseung showed up and you nodded like he was the one you wanted to follow. Like he was still the center of your universe, even after everything. And now Jungwon wasn’t sure if he was more mad at himself… or at the situation.

Because if he hadn’t hesitated last night…

If he’d just kissed you…

Would you still have walked away?

You stopped walking.

Just like that, your feet rooted themselves to the floor.

“I like him,” you murmured, so low it felt more like an admission to yourself than anyone else.

Heeseung turned back instantly, confused. “What?”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor now. You didn’t move, didn’t blink. Your voice was steadier the second time, but your heart pounded so loud you could barely hear yourself speak.

“I like Jungwon.”

Heeseung stared at you. There was no shock in his expression, not really.

“Yeah,” he said gently, nodding once. “I know. I thought we cleared that up.”

You shook your head. “No. Heeseung, you don’t get it.”

You looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

“I really like him.”

The words were soft.

“I was pretending at first—like it was funny, like it was just to get past the whole thing with you, or the rumor, or whatever. And I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I kept saying it didn’t. But now…” You paused, your voice catching in your throat.

“Now I don’t think I’m pretending anymore,” you whispered. “I think I actually… really do like him.”

The hallway was quiet.

So quiet, it almost scared you.

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. And then, very softly, he exhaled.

You looked down, your throat tight.

“He probably needs to hear it, too.”

You hesitated. “What if—”

“If you keep thinking about what ifs instead of doing something about it,” he interrupted gently, but firmly, “then nothing’s ever going to come out of it.”

“You’ve been brave for other people before,” he added, watching you closely. “Try being brave for yourself this time.”

That broke something in you.

Your heart clenched, your feet already itching to move. Because he was right. Because this wasn’t about timing anymore, it was about trying.

You met his eyes.

And then you ran.

Your shoes hit the floor hard as you bolted down the corridor, barely registering the blur of students and teachers around you. You didn’t know what you were going to say. You didn’t have a speech. You just knew you had to find him.

You checked his next class first, flinging the door open with more force than necessary. A few students looked up. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. But Jungwon wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Jungwon?” you asked, eyes wide, voice tight. The girl closest to the door shook her head, confused, and that was all you needed to be gone again.

You searched the cafeteria—empty. The courtyard—quiet. The stairwell, the science wing, even the vending machines by the old lockers. Nowhere.

He wasn’t anywhere.

Finally, you reached the rooftop. Your last hope.

You pushed open the door so hard it banged against the wall with a clang that echoed across the open space.

But no one answered.

The wind rushed past your ears as you stepped forward slowly, chest heaving.

The rooftop was empty.

You stood alone on the rooftop, surrounded by silence and cold metal railings, your breath forming quick clouds in the crisp afternoon air. Your fingers curled tightly into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you tried to swallow down the frustration bubbling in your chest.

"God," you muttered under your breath, voice cracking at the edges. Your hand shot up, dragging through your hair with shaky frustration. The wind whipped around you, rustling your sleeves and your thoughts and every shaky breath you couldn’t get under control.

Without thinking, you turned toward the nearest thing, an old dented metal trash can by the wall and kicked it as hard as you could.

And then—

“...Woah, woah, woah, you okay?”

Your body froze mid-breath. Your heart stopped, then slammed against your ribs with dizzying force.

Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Jungwon.

Standing in the doorway like he’d just stumbled into the middle of your breakdown. His hand still rested on the handle, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wide. He looked caught, unsure, surprised. Like he wasn’t sure if he should take a step closer or stay exactly where he was.

Your eyes locked.

Neither of you moved.

Your hands hung at your sides, fingers twitching with adrenaline. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

And something inside you snapped.

Your feet hit the ground hard as you ran toward him, closing the distance in seconds. His eyes widened again, but he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.

You reached up, grabbing the front of his hoodie with both hands and pulled him down to you. Your breath was uneven. His eyes searched yours for only a second before you leaned in, closing the space, and kissed him.

Then he kissed you back.

His hands came up one finding your waist, the other cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. His grip was gentle, but grounding. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. Like this was the thing that had been waiting between you for weeks, quietly demanding to be acknowledged.

“Damn,” he said. “So you like me.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

“What?”

His lips curved.

Your face twisted in mock offense, eyes narrowing as you pulled back slightly to look at him properly. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”

His grin widened, cocky and boyish.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve had a crush on me even before I did,” you said, crossing your arms even as your smile betrayed you.

Jungwon blinked, deadpan. “You’re not wrong.”

His expression contorted for half a second, like admitting it physically hurt, then melted into something a little sheepish, a little too real.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“Obvious to who, exactly?”

He exhaled like it was the most dramatic moment of his life. “Who do you think I’ve been venting to about you for the past month?”

You paused.

Your smile faded into something wary. “Wait. Who?”

He looked at you.

You blinked, slowly putting two and two together.

Then your eyes widened in horror.

“No. No way.”

“She’s the only one who listened without judging me!”

“You’ve been telling my mom?! About your feelings?! For me?!”

And then it all made sense.

It was the night before.

Your mom was finishing up some dishes in the kitchen, and you’d just excused yourself to the bathroom, disappearing down the hallway.

Jungwon stayed where he was, sitting politely on the couch in the living room, hands clasped, trying not to look too out of place in a home that had started to feel painfully too familiar. He glanced toward the hallway once, then back at the TV that was playing some cooking show on mute. He didn’t expect your mom to come sit next to him.

But she did.

Not with her usual teasing smile or nosy aunt energy, this time, it was softer. Almost… concerned.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked suddenly, her voice gentle. “When I brought Heeseung up earlier?”

Jungwon blinked. “What?”

She smiled kindly, her eyes scanning his face. “You got quiet. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Oh. No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “No! Never. I just… it wasn’t that.”

She looked at him knowingly. “You know… it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that you like my daughter.”

Jungwon let out a quiet groan, dropping his face into his hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Very,” she said with a laugh. “But the good thing is…my daughter is completely oblivious.”

He exhaled a helpless little laugh, dragging his hands down his face. “I don’t know how to make it more obvious if I tried, Auntie. I swear, I’ve done everything short of confessing.”

“Telling her wouldn’t kill you,” she teased, nudging his arm.

He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I just… I figured she’s still got feelings for Heeseung.”

Your mom shook her head, eyes twinkling like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

She turned toward him fully, folding her arms, her voice more certain now. “Do you really think I don’t know my own daughter? I’ve seen her with her friends. She’s never been like this with anyone.”

Jungwon raised his eyebrows slightly. “Like what?”

“Comfortable. Herself. She looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she said, matter-of-fact. “She lets her walls down around you. You don’t know how rare that is.”

Jungwon blinked. His throat tightened a little.

“And let me ask you something,” she said, leaning in like she was telling a secret. “Do you really think she wakes up at five in the morning to go grocery shopping with me just for fun?”

He frowned. “What?”

Your mom grinned. “She goes with me just to pick up ingredients for your favorite dishes and she prioritizes sleep more than anything in this world.”

“She does?”

“Every time you come over. You think it’s a coincidence we always happen to have your favorites? No, Jungwon. She picks them out.”

Jungwon stared at her, completely still.

“Oh.”

Your mom reached over and patted his hand gently, smiling. “You’re in deeper than you think, sweetheart.”

“Remember that day at your place… when I stayed for dinner the first time?”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“She told me,” Jungwon went on, his eyes crinkling, “that you wake up early to go grocery shopping with her before school. Just so you could cook the things I like for dinner.”

You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Honestly, I was still trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you,” he said, laughing softly, “while your mom was out here practically planning our wedding.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, words stuck in your throat.

He looked down at you. His gaze was steady, open, entirely unreadable in the way that meant it was everything all at once. “I’ve liked you since the beginning,” he said quietly, and this time he didn’t laugh. “Even when you said you hated me. Even when you swore you’d never like me back.”

“Wait,” you said slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been crushing on me… this whole time?”

Jungwon tilted his head.

“Since the spelling bee,” he said, laughing.

You choked. “Fourth grade?!”

“Friendship,” he mimicked, grinning like the devil himself. “F–R–E–N–D–S–H–I–P.”

“You’re evil,” you said flatly, staring at him like you were trying to set him on fire with your mind.

“While we’re reminiscing,” Jungwon said, his voice tilting cocky again. “I guess I did end up taking your first kiss after all.”

You blinked.

And suddenly, the rooftop wasn’t cold anymore.

Your mind flashed back, months ago, during that stupid party, during that even stupider game of spin the bottle. You remembered the way the bottle had landed on you. The way he’d chuckled. The way he’d leaned in only to pause, shake his head, and say, “I can’t take her first kiss like this.”

Now, you looked at him again. Really looked.

“You could’ve just done it then,” you said, softer now. “Gotten it over with.”

He shrugged, almost shy. “Felt like it’d be unfair if your first kiss happened in some stupid spin-the-bottle game. In front of all those idiots.”

You searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you so sure that was my first kiss?”

“Because,” he said quietly, “I knew you’d be mine.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing softly. “You really think I’ve kissed someone?”

“Uh—yeah?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I kiss random people at parties?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. He looked at you, all teasing faded now.

“I was saving it,” he said simply, like it wasn’t the most heart-stopping thing he’d ever confessed. “For someone special.”

And suddenly you weren’t breathing.

He looked back at you like it was obvious.

You reached for his hoodie again, your fingers twisting into the fabric without even thinking. “You’re an idiot,” you whispered.

His eyes crinkled, you tugged on the strings of his hoodie. Pulled him closer. Close enough to see the flutter in his lashes. Close enough that his breath hitched when your noses brushed.

And then you kissed him again.

His arms tightened around your waist immediately, pulling you in, deeper this time. It was slow and certain and everything that had been waiting between you for weeks—months, really. The rooftop wind curled around the two of you, but it didn’t matter. He was warm.

And then—

“Are you kidding me?! You two again?!”

You froze.

Jungwon jerked back so fast you almost stumbled.

You turned slowly, lips still tingling, and there he was—again.

The same security guard from the last time. Hands on his hips. Brow raised.

“Now I know for sure you’re kissing,” he said, squinting at both of you. “Don’t even try that hug excuse again.”

“We weren’t—” you started.

“It was windy,” Jungwon said quickly, brushing his hair out of his face. “And she almost fell—”

“Into your mouth?” the guard snapped.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Jungwon cleared his throat.

“Uh. We’re dating,” he finally said, sheepish, a little proud. “Officially. So.”

The guard narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Congratulations. Now get off the rooftop before I call your principal.”

“Yes, sir,” you both muttered in unison, scrambling for your bags.

As you walked down the stairs side by side, shoulder bumping into his, you could feel your face burning. But when you looked up at Jungwon, he was smiling like it had all been worth it.

“We should’ve made out in the library,” he whispered.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, shoving him lightly.

2K notes · View notes

ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

the cutest fanfic ive read in a minute

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 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.”

6K notes · View notes

ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

Anti-hero ✶ sjy.

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.

Summary: Jake Sim has gained his status as Decelis University's "golden boy." Intelligent, a good track of extracurriculars and organization, and did I mention good-looking? He's the front-runner to become the batch's valedictorian, and everything seems to be perfect in that way.

"You need to get laid," his roommates pointed out one day, ruining his perfectly planned college life. Thinking that his roommates were just looking out for him, Jake found himself in a world that he seems to be unfamiliar with — having a fuck buddy, and that's with a little help from you, Decelis University's "golden girl."

✰ Song Inspiration: Anti-hero by Taylor Swift, Strong Girl by Niki, The Bolter by Taylor Swift (trust me, there’s a reason why this is my song inspo.)

✰ Word Count: 26.5k (damn.)

✰ Tags: Fuck buddies to lovers, no strings attached, plot with porn, a bit of fluff and angst, some hurt/comfort, college au, scandals and rumors, Jake’s POV (but there’s some POV switching somewhere), Jake Sim is a T, (he’s so serious with everything and it’s fucking hot tbh) reader has imposter syndrome, (actually reader is also a T), they have nicknames for each other, mentions of enhypen members, OC characters. Huh Yunjin and oc character as Jake’s roommate.

✰ CW: smut, plot with porn, sub! reader, dom! jake, BIG DICK JAKE RAHHHHHH, consensual noncon (proceed with caution.) choking, oral (m receiving) public sex, shower sex, car sex, praise, kinda dirty talk, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), use of condom…once, creampies, aftercare, cockwarming, just filthy smut, they’re so chaotic during sex.

✰ Asul’s note: Jake’s story is here! I was so in love with his character in My Kink Is Karma, and here we are now. I've tried hard with this plot and is a bit unsatisfied so I hope you'll love his story. Warning but proceed with caution since there’s a part that explicitly shows consensual noncon. Read with caution. But shitty smut ahead since I gave up detailing it midway.

Also if you have read Heeseung and Jay’s story, (If you haven’t you can check their story!) Their gfs are also the reader, but I gave them names here in Jake’s story because they have a lot of cameos in this fic. (They’re still considered as y/n in their own story.) Yeah, kinda confusing start because this wasn’t really supposed to be a series from the start, but here we are! The fourth installment of Arcanum series! Enjoy reading! :D

You can check the other member's stories here: Jay | Sunghoon | Heeseung

✰ Taglist: @kiikiisblog @chuuyaobsessed @dearestdreamies @jakessrealwife @heeseungsgf26 @kamiliora @st4rg1rlies @fancypeacepersona @k1ttyjwon @yazmike @dulcetnostalgia

The last semester of the year had arrived. The air in Decelis falls coolly as spring season is about to arrive, mixing with the remnants of the cold winter, the university welcomed the students for the second semester of the academic year.

Wearing their jackets and coats to their first day of class, Decelis University became warm as noise filled the campus. Students meeting their friends, teachers smiling as they greet their students welcome back, and couples holding hands like they’re in their own world.

At one of the gates of Decelis, three students ran their way inside the campus, bright laughter escaping their lips as they stopped midway to catch their breath, not even caring for the students they halted on the walkway.

“Text us if you’re done okay?” Yunjin said, patting Jake’s shoulders. “We’ll be going now!”

“Bye guys,” Jake hugs his roommates before he turns around to walk towards an opposite direction — towards his department building.

Clean and ironed uniform, his school id hung loosely around his uniform’s collar along with his neat tie which Jake, himself tied for a good minute. His square, black-rimmed glasses rested idly on his buttoned nose that complimented his overall visual. With the way he walked, his short black hair neat and proper, and how casual his smile was, it wasn’t hard for students to turn their head towards him.

Sim Jaeyun or Jake Sim for others, is Decelis University’s “Golden Boy.” The top student of the engineering department, president of the student aid organization, a member of Decelis physics club, former soccer player — the list goes on.

No one can top his intelligence and achievements. Records full of 1 and a good moral track. He is considered as a well-disciplined student, that even the teachers love him because he’s not some top student who befriends teachers for the sake of grades. Jake was naturally intelligent and diligent in his studies. Not to mention, he has a warm aura around him, although Jake always wears a small smile or neutral expression, he is considered approachable among his peers.

As he entered the classroom, eyes darted to him. Smile and warm greetings which he only reciprocated before sitting on the first row near the entrance. His usual seat wherein it’s enough for him to sprint out the moment the bell rings.

With the last semester of their college life starting, professors are preparing them for all the possibilities — Latin honors, failed subjects due to unreasonable reasons, even suspension, anything that may happen in the span of five months. Jake could only listen to their professor, who also just happens to be the Dean of their department, explain everything that they should look forward to for their last days in college.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be reacting largely compared to his classmates. His mind is thinking of his post-graduation plans — have a one-week beach trip with his friends. Go home to Australia for a break, then return to the city to review and take the board exam to get his engineering license. Get a job with a high-paying salary, and find a girlfriend somewhere there if he has time. All the usual shit that he had planned ever since he was a freshman.

Jake has always been a planner. His perfect college life was curated based on his schedule and time, and so far, everything is coming into pieces. All he need was to not fuck-up his presidency term, attain latin honors, and follow his plan without any distractions or new ventures.

“We’re rooting for you Jake,” their department dean laughs. A bright smile was only Jake could give as the old man pats his back. “No one can top your excellence, not only in our department, but the whole university.”

“Thank you for the kind words sir,” Jake answered, having heard that since last year.

“That valedictorian is for you, and I’m going to use all my powers to make sure that it’ll be yours,” with a short pat on his back, Jake watched as the Department Dean walked away. His smile immediately turns into a thin line as he returns back to his classroom.

Jake Sim never planned to become the valedictorian of their batch — nor did he work hard to become Decelis’ “Golden Boy.” It just so happens that he has a lot of extracurriculars, is smart, and probably has a good personality, hence, giving him that unofficial title. There were a lot of contenders for that title, that’s why Jake wondered why it was given to him. Maybe it just happens that everyone fawns over him.

He didn’t mind the attention, but it did place a lot of pressure on him. It meant that everyone is watching every move he makes, and he knows being known meant one thing — one wrong move may cause your entire downfall. But it’s not like he’s going to do some rash actions, Jake knows he’s not stupid to put himself in trouble.

After class, Jake finds himself in the club room of the student aid organization, which is just an information and help center for students and incoming students, except it’s being led by students. Jake volunteered to become part of it since it helped him tremendously when he was just a lost, foreign student back in his freshman year — never would he think that he’ll end up as its president.

But it feels nice helping other students, everyone in the organization is a helping hand, and the overall vibe was healthy and light. That’s why instead of stressing himself with the grievances, Jake finds joy in the organization.

As he opened the door, the place was a bit crowded. Some students need some help while his staff are busy helping them. Jake greets them warmly, asking if there’s any problem and so far, everything’s good.

Jake sat by the table beside Jiwon, who’s the executive assistant of his team. A smile greeted him as he placed his bag down.

“Most of them are just problems regarding enrollment and transfers, you know, the usual problem we encounter during the first few weeks of the sem,” the girl explained as soon as Jake sat on the table. Having worked together since freshman, they’ve memorized each other that Jiwon knew what to do without Jake giving her instruction.

“They’re fewer than last sem, thank god because last sem was stressful,” Jake muttered which only left a chuckle on Jiwon’s lips.

“Well, we got new students last semester, that’s why it was stressful,” Jiwon replied. “Oh by the way, I’ll be clocking out around four-thirty.”

“Let me guess, you have a date with Heeseung?” Jake pointed out, and only a blush on the cheeks was her answer. “You know, you didn’t have to tell me all of this.”

“I have to, what if you keep looking for me!? You can barely function without me.” the girl teased making Jake smile. He knows himself that he can't function without his assistant.

“Shut up, I can handle all of this, go have fun with your date.”

Work continued until one by one, his staff told him that they’ll be going now. Same excuse from them — dates, hanging out with friends, even family events, which Jake doesn’t mind. He knows that the organization shouldn’t be their top priority. It’s just an extracurricular for extra credits and something that you can put in your work resume.

Jake remained alone inside the club room. The soft lofi music coming from his laptop serves as a noise while he sorts the reports. The sun is about to set and he’s on the last grievance that they received today. After this, he’ll be meeting his roommates by the Pho stall for dinner.

Jake looks towards the window, watching the campus life unfold in front of him. He sees a group of friends laughing with each other, some are by the benches eating some snacks. He watches as teachers run their way towards their next class, while some student couples are having too much display of affection. A bitter smile formed on his lips as he realized that he’s alone inside the club room.

Will his remaining months in Decelis be like this? Jake feels like his college life is missing something. Is it the thrill? The fun? But he has friends though. They go out and drink during their free time. He parties when he can. That’s the thrill right? Jake stopped his task, deeply pondering on his thoughts.

“And it irritates me,” Jake opened up.

The coffee table is filled with opened bags of chips. Empty bottles of soju scattered on the floor, while cans of beer remained on the table. On the couch sat Yunjin, Aera, and Jake who are all huddled up, alcohol on their system.

“So let me get this straight,” Yunjin started, sitting upwards to glance at Jake. “You, Mr. Decelis University’s Golden Boy, is lacking something? Dude you’ve got it all, what else is missing!?”

“I don’t know either! That’s why I’m telling you guys this!” Jake frustratedly shouted.

Aera laughs loudly, before clapping her hands as she points at Jake. “I know what it is!”

“That sounds like a bad idea.” Jake commented.

“You need to get laid!” Aera delightedly announced.

Jake cringed, “Yeah, bad idea.”

“No it’s not! You probably have a lot of pent-up frustrations in your body! Jake, when was the last time you even jerked off?” Aera boldly asked, Jake scrunches his nose out of disgust while Yunjin laughs out loud.

“We’re absolutely not going to talk about that.” he takes a chug on his beer while Aera rolls her eyes.

“Come on, it’s scientifically proven that having orgasms can release serotonin or whatever happy hormones we have, but you get my point!”

Aera continued laughing, while Yunjin and Jake only remained quiet, convincing themselves that their roommate is so drunk that she started to blurt random stuff.

“She’s just telling that because she has a boyfriend now,” Jake explained, before taking a few chips.

“Well she’s not wrong,” Yunjin asked, making Jake side-eye her. “Having sex can be a form of stress reliever. I bet that you have a lot of stress in your body that parties and alcohol cannot relieve.”

“And you guys think that sex is the answer?”

“What else is the answer? You used to love sleeping around back when we were freshmen, you were so carefree back then and now, you look…so pent-up Jake. I know that you have a lot on your sleeve right now, but that’s probably why you don’t notice that you’re pent-up. You need to loosen up! Find romance and pleasure!” Aera spoke enthusiastically.

“I am not getting myself a girlfriend during the last semester of my college, do you know that college couples tend to break up after graduation?” Jake stated.

“And I hope that doesn’t happen to me and Jay, but Jake, you don’t need a girlfriend, maybe you just need someone who you only exclusively hookup with.” Aera rebutted.

“Like a fuck buddy?” Yunjin asked.

“Yeah, a fuck buddy! There’s nothing wrong with it, you have a fuck buddy Yunjin right?” Aera pointed out.

“Oh right, I can vouch for that. Remember Chaewon? Yeah, we were fuck buddies since sophomore.” Yunjin casually shared, making Jake glance at her, surprised.

“Up until now? I thought you two were together?” and that sentence made Yunjin laugh.

“We’re not. It’s a no-string attached agreement. We only meet each other to have sex, that’s the agreement! No dates, no emotional attachment. Just sex.” Yunjin explained.

Jake becomes quiet for a moment. His roommates made some points. Maybe he does need to get laid, or have sex, or maybe find a fuck buddy who can relief all his stress. Seeing that it doesn’t affect Yunjin at all with her long-time fuck buddy, maybe it can be applied to him too.

He’s not sure if it’ll work, but there’s no harm in trying, right? His roommates may be chaotic most of the time, but they know him from some angles that he doesn’t notice.

“So, how do I even find that?” Jake asked, making his roommates freeze.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to do it?” Yunjin asked, appalled.

Jake shrugs, “well, if yours works, maybe it’ll work for me? I hope so?”

“Just go to a dating app, a lot of students use that — wait, let’s set it up for you.” Yunjin suggested, and the next thing they knew, they installed a popular dating app called Blind. Both roommates helped in creating Jake’s profile, something that will make him look decent, not just some random fuckboy.

“Holy shit, this is so exciting! You’re finally getting some action Jake Sim!” Aera excitingly shouts, shaking Jake’s shoulder which only made the three of them laugh.

Jake stared at a profile of a girl. She’s fine, pretty, and shorter than him. She’s not from Decelis but she’s alright. He wondered if he should swipe left or right for a minute before swiping to the left.

He found it impressive how Blind can show him preferences, starting from their height up to their intentions on the app. Yunjin wrote his profile as someone who’s looking for something casual, stating that if he placed that if he’s there for a hookup, he’ll end up looking like a horndog — which he wasn’t.

Jake’s been in the app since last night. Yunjin helped him picked some girls along with Aera, and one thing he learned was that it was hard to find the right girl that he could ask to be his fuck buddy. He had matched with some other girls, took the courage to flirt (though most of the time Yunjin was the one who’s writing the message,) but it seems like it’s not working on his side.

“Hey pres!” a feminine voice greets, startling Jake who tightly grips on his phone.

Jake immediately closed his phone before looking up to see you standing there in front of him. You have a wide smile on your face. Makeup neat with an excessive amount of blush but it suits your round cheeks. Your black shoulder bag hangs on your left shoulder along with the trinkets and keychains on its handle.

If Jake Sim was Decelis University’s Golden Boy, you’re the female version of him — the Golden Girl. A senior communications student, you’re one of the top students of your department. You have a bright and friendly aura around you. During sophomore year, you welcomed students back when you were a radio jock in Decelis 1009 radio station which also led you to opportunities to host a lot of school events.

You’re also part of the student aid, a huge helping hand to other students that you’ve become its vice president this term. Last year, you were hailed as Decelis University’s “Selene.” which was a pageant to become Decelis University’s official student model and image. With your beauty and brains, along with your popularity, you’ve won the heart of every student and staff in the university. Which also hailed you the golden title.

Although you and Jake hold the title, the two of you were never linked with each other. Both living in two different worlds, you two were only acquainted due to the student aid organization. Jake finds you nice, a bit talkative, but he sees that you have a lot of confidence and boldness in you.

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Jake said sternly.

“I did remember sending you a message that I had a short interview at 1009 radio station,” you grinned before glancing at his phone. “You seem to be busy with something.”

“It’s nothing.” Jake answered immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, “Nothing really? Scrolling through a dating app during class hours? That’s so not you pres.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “How did you —”

“Funny, at first thought, someone is impersonating you but it really is you,” you said, hands resting on your hips as you looked at Jake teasingly.

“What?” the boy asked, surprised.

You let out a small laugh before grabbing your phone. You opened your phone and showed Jake its screen — a screenshot of his Blind profile. You noticed how his eyes widened further, but as he glanced at you, his expression became neutral once again.

“You’re there too?” Jake blurted out, and you amusingly tilted your head.

“Why wouldn’t I be there? I use it when I’m bored and pent-up, it’s a place for hook-ups, not all are looking for serious relationships here.”

“What makes you think I’m looking for a serious relationship in Blind?” Jake rebutted.

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. “You weren’t?”

Jake stares at you for a minute. He wonders if it’s worth sharing to someone he’s not that close to, but you seem to be open to this topic so he only clicks his tongue as he looks at his phone. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my friends, they convinced me that I need to get laid because I’m all stressed and they think sex is the solution.”

You stifled a laugh, but Jake’s expression never faltered, so you held yourself back but your grin was too obvious. “And you believed them?”

“Never know until proven true, so yeah, here I am scrolling through hundreds of profiles until I find a decent girl who’s I don’t know, won’t be intimidated to have sex with me,” Jake casually explained.

“I can do it for you.” you casually replied.

That’s when Jake glances back at you, who blinked at him innocently. He was waiting for you to say that you were joking, but you only smiled at him.

“I’m not kidding pres, instead of finding another stranger who you have to make connections with, why don’t you go with someone who, let’s just say, is already acquainted with you?”

You made good points with your reason. The first problem Jake faced was finding a decent girl who he won’t be awkward with. Sex is still intimacy, and knowing that it’s been so long since he even touched a girl, he knows that this is a challenge to him.

With you proposing to him, he quickly thought about it for a minute. You, who is ironically the girl version of him, is offering to be his fuck buddy. You seem to be chill about this one, and it did surprise him that you’re into this kind of setup.

Noticing that the atmosphere has becoming too quiet, you only cleared your throat before saying, “I’ll give you time pres, but my offer still stands —”

“Wait,” Jake halted you immediately. “Sorry, I’m just really new to this kind of setup. This doesn’t make you uncomfy? Especially when we’re orgmates too.”

“Whatever happens inside the room, remains in the room. That’s my rule.” you smiled. “We can talk more about our setup of course, we’re not only complying with my rules, you should set boundaries too.”

“Okay,” Jake breathes, nodding as it seems like he’s set with having you as his fuck buddy. “How soon should we…you know?”

But you only laughed, “so you’re taking my offer huh?”

“This is better than finding some girls on Blind.” Jake reasoned out. “Let’s talk more tonight? How’s that sound?”

“Already? I don’t mind, if you’re already down to fuck, but you need to buy condoms for us,” you winked. “We got to stay safe pres.”

Jake would never have thought that conversation would lead him to cleaning their dorm. Their floor has always been clean since the three of them are clean freaks, but Jake has to make sure that it’s squeaky clean before you arrive.

It was his first time clocking out of the organization on time too. His roommates coming home to him doing a last minute vacuuming on the floor. That’s when they realized what the hell was going on with their only male roommate.

“I can’t believe that we were just talking about it last night and you already found one,” Aera spoke up while tying her shoes.

“And here you are, kicking us out because your fuck buddy is coming,” Yunjin fakingly sobs.

To ease your first meeting, Jake bribed his roommates to have the flat all by himself for that night, (and fortunately, they agreed, knowing that they advised him to do so in the first place.) Jake knows where the two will end up staying the night, so it’s still a win for the three of them.

“I’ll treat you guys with ice cream tomorrow, don't worry,” Jake compensated, sitting on the couch as he had changed into a shirt and sweatpants. His legs thumping nervously as he glanced at the clock. It’s almost 7:30 in the evening, which was your agreed time.

And before his roommates could go, a ring on the doorbell stopped the three of them. Aera, who’s just near the door, opens it, surprising you who’s standing in front of the door.

“Y/n hi!” Aera brightly greeted, having familiar with your face, before turning back at Jake, mouthing “what the fuck!?”

Yunjin stood there frozen, surprised that Jake’s fuck buddy is none other than Decelis’ golden girl, talking about small world. It really has to be you out of the thousands of available girls in the city. She gasps in disbelief while Jake stood up from his seat.

“Come in,” Jake gestured. Aera opens the door wider for you to step inside, both his female roommate stared at you making you wary. It didn’t cross your mind that Jake had female roommates, and that made you somehow confused with your setup with him.

“Hi I’m Yunjin, and this is Aera, we’re Jake’s roommates, but don’t worry! We’ll be going out, you have the place all by yourself,” Yunjin greeted all of the sudden, and you felt embarrassed intruding on their place just because you can’t offer yours.

“Oh no, I’m sorry for intruding too,” you immediately apologized but Yunjin only smiled as she and Aera grabbed their bags.

“No worries for us! It’s been a while since Jake brought a girl to our place, so enjoy! We’ll see you guys at school!” Aera laughed, waving goodbye to the two of them before leaving the place.

You stood there frozen before you turned around to see Jake groaning in disbelief.

“So,” you cleared your throat. “Why didn’t you just ask them —”

“Aera is Jay’s girlfriend, and Yunjin’s a lesbian.” Jake quickly explained.

“Oh.” you’re not familiar with most of the students in Decelis. But you did remember that there was gossip last semester that Arcanum’s Jay was dating someone, and turns out, it’s Jake’s roommate. While you do recognize Yunjin since she’s part of Decelis Theater.

“They’re the ones who told me to get laid.” Jake added. “They’re also like sisters to me, that’s why.”

Another “Oh” escapes your lips. You thought that it’s those male friends of Jake that convinced him to this setup. Now, you found yourself in a more awkward situation.

“Do you want some ramen?”

A moment of silence hovered between the two of you before you spoke. “What?”

“You seem tense, have you eaten dinner yet?” he offered, sounding genuine with his words.

“Really — I mean, ramen?” you laughed because of his words. Usually, your casual hookups is just you showing up to your hookup’s place, fuck, and then go home. The usual quickie or sex wherein both bodies do the work, while your mouth sucks their dick instead of talking to them. No string attached, only bodily pleasures, and it works all the time.

But then again, this is the first time you and Jake will be meeting. Plus, this isn’t just a hookup, this is a fuck buddy set-up — a temporary monogamous situation for you. So you agreed, and that’s why you found yourself by the kitchen, watching Jake grab a pack of Buldak Carbonara, with him sharing you a homemade recipe of his.

“So, how about we talk about it?” Jake suggested as he waits for the noodles to cook. “How do we even do this? I’m sorry, I’m really new to this.”

You only smile at him. He still maintains his professional talking voice that he’s been using to everyone else. Your mind started to wonder what would his voice sound like in bed — would he be making sounds that’s far from the serious and stoic Jake Sim?

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” you assured. “Let’s start from the very start. Do you want this to be an exclusive thing? Just the two of us?”

Jake became quiet for a second, “I’m going to keep it exclusive for me but I don’t mind if you sleep with other guys.”

“Okay, since you’re going to stay loyal, I’m going to stay loyal too,” you smiled, hoping that you’re not going to regret it. “This is a no-string attached set-up, we’ll only meet for sex, and it has to be mutually consented too, is that okay with you?”

Jake only nods, busying himself with his cooking. The smell of the buldak sauce steaming inside the kitchen. You stopped for a second because Jake hands you a bowl of his carbonara buldak risotto. Murmuring your thanks, you took a bite on it and had your eyes wide open.

“This tastes good,” you shared, while Jake quietly smiles before eating his own food.

“Oh by the way, we shouldn’t do things like this,” you added.

“Why not?”

“Because this is too wholesome! We’re here to fuck, not act like lovers.”

“Alright, what else?”

“Any kinks you have in your mind?”

Jake almost spat out his ramen. He looks at you who only gave him an innocent stare.

“Why? If we’re going to fuck, then we should atleast make each other feel good!” you pointed out before a thought crosses your mind. “Oh my god don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

“No, I’m not,” Jake coughs. “I just forgot what I’m into.”

That’s when you let out another laugh. “Jake Sim you’re really something else. When was the last time you even had sex?”

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Uhm…summer before junior year.” he barely recalled it. It was just a drunken one night stand. On a three-day-and-two-night trip to the beach with his friends. He was drunk, flirted with a stranger, and had sex, and before the sun had risen, he left the hotel room.

“Woah, that long huh?” you smiled. “You never thought of having a girlfriend?”

“It’s proven that college couples tend to break up after graduation,” Jake repeated. At the same time, Jake thinks that he couldn’t prioritize commitment when he has a lot of things to focus on.

“Not now, but during that duration,” you pointed, and that question made Jake quiet.

“I did like someone back in junior year,” he confessed. “But she — someone else got her first.”

“Do you still like her?”

“Of course not anymore,” Jake only smiled bitterly. Regrets rushing into his heart. “She’s my friend’s girlfriend — they got together last year coincidentally. From there, I threw away my feelings immediately.”

“She must be lucky that you like her.”

“I feel like she’s happier with my friend now.”

Silence faltered inside the kitchen. You only stared at the half-full bowl before taking another bite. You couldn’t even think of another word to say.

“What about you?” Jake asked, making you glance at him. “What about your kinks? Let’s not delve into our lovelife since we’re not here to act like lovers.”

A faint blush rushed on your cheeks, usually things like this will be discussed during sex, during the heat of the moment, so it felt weird saying it out of blue. “It’s embarrassing.”

“How can I make you feel good when I don’t know what you want?”

“Fine, I’m submissive. Use me however you want, rough that it’ll leave me limping. Choke me, that’ll make me cum, but don’t you ever use degrading words, that’ll make me cry.”

“So, that means you’re into praise? Like good girl or something?”

You became quiet. Jake quickly observes how you stared at him, eyes wide. You can feel your heart beating fast, words stuck at your throat as Jake’s words keep replaying in your mind.

“That fast? I’m surprised,” Jake teasingly said. “What else?”

“Let’s talk about it the other time, but that summarizes what I want during sex,” you explained.

Jake hums for a moment. “Alright. Then should we discuss our setup somewhere more, private?”

Your heart beats faster than before. You only nod as both you and Jake left the bowls on the sink, before following him towards his room.

You’re used to a guy’s room. The smell, the mess, and probably unwashed sheets for weeks. You didn’t care about it during sex, but after sex? Those guys are getting blocked. Personal hygiene is your number one must, and if Jake Sim’s room is a mess, then he’ll just have to kiss this setup bye-bye.

As Jake opens his room, you’re surprised to see a clean and neat room that smells like sandalwood and men’s perfume. His bed is neatly done, bedsheets in navy blue and white. Side table filled with nothing but a night lamp. On a corner is a pc set-up and a study table where his books are placed on a small shelf along with some pencil holder and his laptop.

Of course this is Jake Sim that we’re talking about. He holds a good reputation in your university so he’s likely cleaner than the rest of the guys you’ve slept with before.

Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you look around his room, probably amazed by it. Then, you turned around and smiled at him before sitting next to him.

“So, anymore questions?” you asked.

“You told me that you can’t offer your place, you live with your parents?” Jake asked.

“Not my parents, but my older sister. It’s a one bed apartment room, that’s why I can’t offer mine. I don’t mind hotel rooms but I don’t do cheap ones Jake, so if you want it, we can do it here,” you explained, then another thought flew inside your mind. “Why? Do you like public sex or something?”

Jake only shakes his head. “I’m not going to throw my roommates everytime we do it, so being quiet is an option.”

You stared at his lips before glancing back at his stare, you shifted your body towards him, knees touching each other as you lean close to him. “Don’t worry, I can be quiet.”

You two stare at each other for a minute. No one said a thing. You were waiting for him to say another word, while he only slowly observed you.

Then, Jake teasingly grins, which is a new, unfamiliar expression for you, “you seem eager to get fucked tonight.”

“If you don’t want it, I don’t mind,” you smirked. “We can take things slow pres.”

That nickname. That damn nickname that always electrifies him. Jake’s ears deafened as the vixen smile on your lips widened.

“I bet you want to call me other names,” Jake said, suddenly there’s a change in the atmosphere. You held your breath as his hands gently rested on your thighs, thumb caressing your bare skin while the smile on his lips became a smirk.

“Pres? Sir? Daddy? While I call you a good girl as you take my dick inside your tiny little hole? You want that baby?” his deep, raspy voice sent chills through your spine. Your heart started beating fast, minding starting to float — wondering what it feels like to hear more of his heavent-sent voice praising you.

But you didn’t want to back down that easily, so a scoff in disbelief was your answer.

“Maybe it’s you who wants to be called those names,” you spat back at him. Hands finding its way towards his jawline, your sharp, acrylic nails cupping his cheeks while Jake remains unfazed, his eyes shifted immediately to a bored one.

It’s dangerous. You’re convinced that Jake’s dangerous for you. He’s not rushing anything. Guys usually just throw you to bed and fuck you senselessly, while Jake only sat there, lazy eyes staring at you. Tempting and alluring like he’s teasing you to take the lead.

He doesn’t move. He’s patient with you, like he’s waiting for your next move. And it only leaves you impatient and wetter than before. You only glanced at his lips, luscious and thick, thumb grazing on its soft skin, cursing why Jake Sim has to be so perfect?

“You want it?” he whispered to you, voice crashing in you like a siren.

“Please…” you only breathed, tone high-pitched almost on the edge of whining that Jake chuckled darkly because of it.

A throb on your heart was all you felt as he crashed his lips on yours. Gently, he cups your face as he tilts his head, pressing his lips as it starts moving to get a taste of you. You kissed him back with much force, lips expertly responding to his kiss.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck before you moved to his lap, hips immediately moving against his thigh to feel him underneath, only for Jake to groan against your mouth. The sudden movement of your hips flinches him.

Jake knows that it’s been a while since he had sex, he barely recalls when was the last time that he had masturbated. Due to his hectic schedule and tired body, it never crossed in his mind to pleasure himself. He’d rather sleep than rub it away.

Maybe his roommates were right, his pent-up frustration is just him being sexually frustrated. Maybe it’s the peer pressure too. While his peers are living their life in adventures and parties, his college life becomes too nerdy and academic-focused that it leaves him too serious to deal with emotional attachments like love or pleasure.

But in Jake’s mind, what’s the point? Can he even have a girlfriend when he himself is too tired with his other priorities? Aera was right to advise that he just needs to get laid, at least with the no-strings attachment, he doesn’t have to deal with its aftermath.

His hands find its way through your hair, brushing it softly until he tugs it out of nowhere, earning a moan from you. He pulls your face away from him — his stare at you menacing and that both knew that something awakened in Jake.

But it only made you needy, biting your lips before crashing your lips onto him, rough and aggressive which he reciprocated, hips bucking upwards to meet your clothed cunt. His tongue slipped out of his and slid its way inside yours, battling inside your mouth as whimpers escaped from you.

You pulled away from him. Eager for more, you could only tug his hair, staring at him darkly and boldly. “Don’t hold back on me,” you challenged. “I’m not fragile Jake Sim, let all your frustrations out on me.”

That was the trigger. The way you begged for him, and recalling all the kinks that you said to him. He found you not only bold but also a pleaser. — and that made him want you to writhe underneath his touch.

What is it like to have the golden girl on her knees and worship him? “Get on your knees,” Jake ordered. Almost throwing you away from his lap. You scurried your way down to the floor, knees touching the soft rug underneath as Jake stood up. Hands caressing your head as you look up at him, round sparkling eyes that’s ready to submit to him.

“Show me how good you are at pleasing a guy.” Jake unties the drawstrings of his sweatpants, pulling it down until it hits the floor.

You only stared at the tent on his boxer, eyes filled with curiosity on his cock, making you glanced back at Jake.

“Come on, show pres how good you are, vice,” he smirked, and the nickname only sent chills to your cunt. Never would you think he’ll give a good rebut with your nickname for him.

But you’re used to this. That’s why in one big tug, you pulled down his boxer, eyes wide at his hard length. Out of all the dicks you’ve seen, this might be the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful, looking straight out of a porn video. Its mushroom tip is enough to tear your pussy apart. You unknowingly let out a small mewl as you wrapped your hands around it, stroking it lightly before you sinked it inside your mouth.

You wasted no time. Licking all the length that your mouth could reach. Cheeks hollow as you suck it in and out before releasing it with a loud pop. strings of saliva connecting your mouth and its tip. You lightly stroke it, teasing it around your fingers as you squeeze its tip, feeling the way it twitches as you do the action.

You looked up to Jake and saw how unamused he is. Like he’s not satisfied with it, so you slowly let out your tongue. Giving soft kitten licks around his cock without breaking eye contact with him. You can see how he’s holding back, so in one swift motion, you swallow his cock once again and start sucking it in a fast motion.

In contrast, Jake is slowly losing his mind. His cock is has become sensitive, soft groans started escaping his lips as you continue bobbing your mouth in and out. It’s warm and tight, and he loved the way your tongue licked along your movement.

He bucked his hips to meet your mouth, a whimper escaping your lips as he continued thrusting it, loving the way his tip hits the back of your throat. That’s when he decided to pull out of your mouth, dick twitching as you only had your brows furrowed.

“What happened —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when Jake pulled you towards the edge of the bed, your back hitting against it as Jake stood in front of you. Its erected cock just an inch away from your mouth.

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” Jake ordered using his usual professional tone. You’re not going to deny that it just sent your cunt throbbing. As you opened your mouth with your tongue out he slammed his cock inside yours. The sudden action caused you to bump your head against the side of the bed. Jake holds his dick inside you for a few seconds, feeling it twitch as Jake groans in satisfaction.

“Fuck —” Jake moans, finding hold on his bed as his hips started to fuck your throat roughly. His tip hitting the back of your throat that it’ll leave your voice hoarse tomorrow. His thrust was erratic, you’re slowly feeling yourself dizzy by the way his dick suffocated you.

Your head continued bumping against the bed and mattress while your hands could only grip against the rug as your legs started to writhe. Your pussy’s throbbing that it hurts, wanting to touch it but you’re patient as you let Jake use you first.

A gagging whimper escapes your lips as Jake sheathes inside you once again, holding it for a few seconds before pulling out and thrusting inside you again.

“Look at you good girl, taking my cock so well,” Jake smirked, his thrust has becoming sloppy as he can feel his dick twitching, readying himself to cum, he pounds into you relentlessly and he swore that he never felt this fucking good.

“Fuck, drink my cum, take it,” he breathlessly moans, thrusting a few times until he felt his orgasm crash. The feeling was so new that his loud groan echoed around the room. Jake grips on the sheets tightly as his stomach tightens, hips pushing forward to sandwich you between him and the side of the bed. You couldn’t escape, eyes rolling upwards as his cum spilled downwards your throat, forcing you to drink the bittersweet liquid. Choking as the mouthful of cum was too much that your eyes started to water while drool dripped out of your mouth.

Jake pulls out his twitching cock, still hard and aching while you gasp for air. Slowly, you can feel his hands on your hair before he pulls your chin upwards to look at him. Smiling at you devilishly like he’s proud to see your messed-up face with drool and cum on your lips.

“You did good,” Jake mumbled and you could only whine from the praise.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll get a reward from me,” and before you could say any word, Jake lifted you up to his bed. He cages you between his arms and glances at him.

His hands went tracing the outline of your body, towards your stomach until it reached the button of your shorts, but before he could even open it, you called him out, eyes darting at you immediately.

“You’re not going to eat me,” you told him. “Nope, I don’t do that.”

Jake’s face distorted into a confused one. “You’ll let my dick inside your mouth but not the other way around?”

“I find it weird!” you reasoned out, before grabbing his hands. Seeing its long, slender fingers along with the pulsing veins brought an idea in you. “Look, it’s either you just drill your dick inside me or use your fingers, just not your mouth, I’m not going to let a man’s mouth near my private area.”

Jake could only laugh in disbelief. Someday, he’ll get you to let him eat you out, but for now, he’ll just let his fingers do the work.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, before turning around to place his glasses on his side table, taking off his shirt and kicking his sweatpants out of his ankles.

Jake turns around to see you sprawled on the bed. He stopped for a second. God, you look like a goddess with your body, but what amazes Jake more is your confidence as you only gave him a seductive smile. Your nipples were already erect against your breasts, which Jake unconsciously grabs the left side, fondling with it as his thumb grazes on it, sending shivers to you.

Slowly, he pushes you down the mattress, sitting beside you as his hands trailed all over your body. Hitching your breath as you watched his gorgeous hands feather on your stomach and stop just right on your pussy.

“Keep your legs open for me,” he ordered and you did so. Legs sprawled as his fingers slid on your core. A dark chuckle escaping his lips — “fuck, you’re soaking wet already, did you got wet sucking me of?”

“Yes,” you mewled. “Please Jake — need you.”

But Jake hushes you, slender fingers sliding up and down its lips. “Stay still for me or you won't get to cum.”

And a soft whine escapes your lips. “That’s not fair.”

The next thing you knew, his free hand was around your neck, a moan escaping on your lips as his fingers dipped on the right place.

“Stay still.” he said with a serious tone and you could only whine as Jake rubs your clit in a circular motion. His hands dipped further on the side of your neck, strong arms keeping you still as you shut your eyes while his fingers do magic in pleasuring you.

“Jake —” another moan escapes your lips as you feel him slide two fingers easily inside you. Immediately pumping in and out before pulling it out. Opening your eyes to see Jake licking your slick out of his lips, his eyes locked at you as he removed his fingers out of his mouth with a small pop.

“You taste fucking good and you’re not going to let me taste it?” he teased, you could only shake your head as answer and Jake understood it already — he’ll be patient, but for now, it’s all about pleasuring you.

He places his fingers inside you again, making you arch your back as he slides his fingers in and out, scissoring your walls open making you moan as both hands are doing god’s work to make you feel good. You watched as his left hand remained in your neck, holding you down so that you won’t move, large hands and pink knuckles wrapped around you making you hold onto it.

“You like my hand that much?” Jake laughs, and a breathy “yes” was all you could answer.

A loud cry left escaped your lips as Jake inserted another finger inside your pussy. You never tried having three fingers shoved inside you and it only stretched you wider. His pace became faster as it began to pump in and out, curling at a spot that made you legs shake — that’s when Jake knew. He remained at his pace, abusing the spot as he heard your uneven breathing, feeling you writhe against his hold.

“Need to stretch you wide baby,” Jake darkly taunted, leaning against your ears as he whispered. “Going to make sure your pretty pussy can take my whole cock.”

That took you to cum, legs shaking as his finger fastened its pace when he felt your pussy clamming. You cry out his name making him slam your head deeper on the mattress using his other hand, tightening his grip that the pleasure from both actions only made you moan mutedly.

Jake removes both his hands from you, legs still shaking as you try to catch on your breath. You closed your eyes as you felt Jake’s large hands patting your hair as a form of comfort, he leaned and kissed your lips which you immediately reciprocated, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck while you two got lost in each other’s taste.

“Fuck me please,” you whispered against your kisses, and you could only feel Jake smile before leaving another breathy kiss on you. He separates from you as you watch as Jake grabs something from his drawer, you leaned on to see him sheathe the condom on his shaft.

He glances back at you, and your heart starts beating fast. Damn it. You curse internally. Wondering how the fuck Jake still looks so fucking handsome despite the disheveled hair and flushed face. You can’t help but rub your thighs together as your eyes remain at Jake.

He’s handsome, smart, and serious. He respects you but at the same time complies with your kinks. Even his performance and dick exceeded your expectations. You feel like you’ve hit the jackpot when you offered him to be his fuck buddy.

“What position do you want?” he asked.

“Missionary,” basic, but you wanted the guy to do all the work. Smiling back at him as you asked his preference.

“I’m okay with any, let’s just go with yours,” Jake said, smiling before pulling your legs towards him.

You only lay down as Jake stretches your legs open, resting it on his strong thighs as he kneels in front of you. His eyes staring at your wet pussy before he positions his cock on your entrance. You could only bite your lips as you watch his tip disappear inside your cunt. Feeling it stretch your walls, already clasping for more, making Jake groan.

“Shit — you want my dick so bad?”

“More — Jake, please,” you whined.

Jake slides his dick inside you within a second, earning a sultry moan from you as this is the first time you ever felt so full. He started his pace fast immediately, both hands on your waist as he lifted you like a ragdoll. Pounding on your warm walls, moaning with the way your pussy clamps his cock.

“Jake — ugh — rougher please —” you weren’t able to continue your words when Jake wraps his hands on your neck once again. Followed by a sharp thrust, Jake leans over you with a serious expression as his grip tightens, knocking you out of breath making both your hands grab onto it, trying to grasp for air but at the same time, your pussy tightens around his cock.

“You’re going to take my cock however you like, got it?” he ordered and you could only cry as his thrust became rougher like you wanted it. Eyes rolling in pleasure as he continued to abuse your holes.

Jake’s thrust hits right where you want it, his moans dragging out of his lips as he shut his eyes harshly. The pleasure was becoming too intense for him, your walls were sucking him harshly, warm and soft against his hard length. He can feel stomach tightening, dick twitching as a sign that he’s going to cum.

Jake choked on his breath as he continued pounding inside your pussy, his shaft sliding in and out as your cries became louder. If it wasn’t enough, Jake pushes you down the bed, fingers pressing hard on each side making you arch your back. He can feel your legs kicking its way out, your hands trying to remove his hand around your neck but he only tilts his head in amusement, hips never stopping its movement.

“Jake! Fuck! —” you started babbling incoherent words. Eyes wet with tears as you tried to get away from his grasp.

“You’re gonna cum now?” Jake amused, using his free hand to circle his thumb on your clit, earning a loud cry from you.

“Please — I want —”

“You can cum pretty girl,” he whispered darkly. “You did so good, so you deserve to cum.”

You let out a muted moan as you stop writhing from his touch but instead, you started shaking. Jake lets go of his hand from your neck and replaces it with his lips, leaving feathered kisses as he continues to thrust inside your tight pussy.

“Jake hhhh — too much!” you pleaded, feeling sensitive from your orgasm.

“Just wait alright? You’re a good girl, you can hold it for me right?” he convinced, and those words only went straight to your abused cunt, nodding as Jake thrusts became uneven. It didn’t take a while before he let out a pornographic moan as he cums inside the condom.

Jake was catching his breath as he lay down beside you. The heated atmosphere was followed by a quiet yet awkward silence. The two of you only stared at the ceiling, energy dying down along with the tension around.

“Woah” he could only say, both of you letting out a small laugh after sinking in what just happened between the two of you.

Your eyes are drilling holes on the ceiling as you feel satisfied yet wanting for more. The sex was intense. You loved the way his cock abused your hole but it felt like it wasn’t enough.

“Jake —” you hesitated for a second, looking at him who immediately caught your words.

“You want another round?” he asked, almost smiling.

“Please?” your eyes pleading innocently that it made Jake’s dick twitch. A sharp inhale escapes his lips as your hand reaches for his half-hard cock, stroking it lightly before pulling the soiled rubber away.

“Want you more,” you said softly like a kid asking for candy.

“Of course pretty girl,” a kiss on your temple was all you got before he reached his drawer once again — but his actions stopped when you pulled his arms.

“I want it raw,” you said. “Want you to fill me. Please Jake, we’re safe. I’m on birth control.”

Jake felt like his ears deafened with his words. You look at him with the pout on your lips becoming visible as you continue to stroke his dick, palming his tip and squeezing it at every chance you can.

“Fuck — you want it raw?” Jake asked in disbelief.

You nodded feverishly. You never tried raw. Even though you’re using birth control, you still need to be extra careful, that’s why condom is a must when it comes to your hookups.

But with Jake, something in you is asking to be impaled by him raw. You wanted his semen to fill you up full and warm. You want to feel his seeds inside you — like how it felt earlier on your mouth.

It didn’t take a second for Jake to grab you by the waist and flip you. You had your stomach flat while Jake raises your hips, ass up in the air as his hands are on the curve of it. A sudden slap on your right cheek made you whine, and if it wasn’t enough — Jake shoved his dick inside your pussy without a warning.

His hands gripped on your waist tightly, thrusting in and out harshly, watching as his dick disappeared inside your pussy while your ass bounced against his groin. Jake groans at the sight as your walls felt more heavenly without the condom.

“Should’ve said earlier —” Jake grunts. “I’ll fill you full baby, you’re going to be a good girl and take all my cum right vice?”

“Fuck —”

“Look how you’re sucking pres’ dick, you really fucking want this do you?” he pulls a fistful of your hair making you whine in pleasure.

“Yes! God! fill me up pres!” you shouted loudly. You felt another slap on your ass as Jake continued drilling his dick inside you. Hitting your deepest part that no one had ever reached.

“Take it like the good girl you are.”

The room smelled like sex and sweat. Bodies slapping together echoed around the room along with each other’s moans and whimpers. The continuous action caused the bed to creak, headboard slapping against the wall, but both of you were too lost in the pleasure to care.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jake spoke, hand letting go of your hair making you fall flat on the pillow.

Your only response was a cry, before feeling your stomach coil again. Cumming unannounced with continuous, unstable whimpers followed by a moan. Hands shaking as it grips on the sheets so tight that your knuckles are turning red.

Jake came shortly after, letting out a loud groan as his hold on your waist tightened, fingers pressing on the skin making you whine in pain. His warm seeds started to fill your insides, making you whine loudly as he dumped every last bit of his semen inside you. Thrusting sloppily until his energy is all drained-up.

Jake pulls out, cock dirtied with both of your cum, he could only stare at your hole as his cum dripped out of it. Unconsciously gathering it using his fingers before shoving it inside your pussy once again, a soft whimper escaping from you before he pumps in and out until he is fully satisfied with it.

You shifted to lay down on your bed, which Jake followed, brushing the sweaty strands on your forehead. “You did good.” he whispered to you, hands massaging your legs and knees while you closed your eyes to his relaxing touch.

“I should go,” you said while your eyes remained closed.

“Wait, clean up first —”

“It’s okay, I can handle it myself,” you insisted. That’s when you sat up on his bed before looking at him. “No aftercares okay? It’s too wholesome for me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, “it’s not wholesome, it’s decency. I’m not going to let you go home with my cum dripping inside you.”

“What if I want that?” you teased, but Jake only chuckled on your words before scooping you up, startling you that you could only hold on his shoulders.

The two of you reach their bathroom, Jake makes you sit on the toilet while he grabs a small towel, wetting it before handing it to you. “If you don’t want me to do it, it’s okay. We did it raw, I don’t want to risk you getting sick after sex, you need to pee too. I’ll be outside to get your clothes.”

You only accepted the towel while he left you there, closing the bathroom door. Staring at the towel, you could only quip a small smile. Jake never failed to surprise you with his gestures, but then again, what else would you expect from the golden boy? He seems like he has everything sorted in his life.

After you wipe yourself clean, you hear a knock on the door, revealing Jake who offers you your clothes again. You only smile at him, muttering your thanks as you wore your clothes.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Jake fully-clothed in the living room, he glanced at you which made you walk towards him.

“So,” you cleared your throat. “I guess our setup’s okay — you’re okay with it? Because I’m totally okay with having us as fuck buddies.”

“If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it too,” Jake nodded in agreement. “It’s getting late, let me drive you to your home —”

“No, it’s okay Jake, we’re just here to fuck remember?” you reminded, and Jake didn’t rebut. “I’ll just book a car ride home. Don’t worry about me, I’ve been doing this many times.”

Jake could only quip a small smile as he walked you towards the door.

“At least text me if you got home safe,” Jake told you, and you let out a small chuckle.

“Alright, if it’ll make you sleep peacefully at night,” you teased.

“Goodnight y/n, see you in Decelis?” Jake said hesitantly.

You tip-toed to land a kiss on his cheeks, winking at him as you said, “no, see you when we fuck again.”

It’s been two months since you and Jake had officially became a fuck buddy.

The set-up wasn't typical. It’s raw (maybe because you let him hit you raw,) but it’s intimate. The two of you also had discussed a lot of kinks to make each other feel good. Everytime you two meet, things spice up in bed and you two always end the night satisfied.

You’ve learned that Jake likes being a dom who complies to your wishes, which makes your set-up better. You consider him as a great fuck buddy especially when soft gestures and aftercares would follow after the rough sex, showing you that he’s not the only one benefitting on this set-up.

Outside the bedsheets, you two talked like you two aren’t each other’s fuck buddies. It was one rule that you had established and Jake complies to it.

There were no wariness and subtle glances at each other. You’re used to guys texting you after, asking for dates or another hookup, they aren’t even subtle when greeting you inside the campus with eyes filled with lust. But Jake? Jake maintained his boundaries with you.

He talks to you using his usual tone, acting like he didn’t shove his dick in your mouth many times. But you like it. You finally found someone who’s respectful with your boundaries and complies to whatever set-up you two had agreed. Despite the many times you two had sex, the two of you haven’t crossed the line. Both handled it maturely and were really just there for the sex.

“Jake, I’ll be going now, y/n, bye-bye!” Jiwon announced, waving at the two of you who reciprocated it. The smile on her face was wide since her boyfriend’s waiting by the doorsteps of the club room.

“Hey Jake! Don’t study too much, you’ll be out of our reach now,” Heeseung teased before grabbing Jiwon’s bag.

“Get lost you lovebirds,” Jake laughs, before waving goodbye to his friends one last time. You observed how Jake’s eyes lingered on them for a few minutes before continuing his task.

You hummed lightly as you focused on your report. The two of you remained inside the club room, stuck with tons of reports that became mishaps last semester. Incomplete documents and missing reports, Jake couldn’t help but to work overtime due to it along with you.

“Did you ask your staff regarding this?” Jake asked in a serious tone, a pissed expression written on his face because some cases weren’t even during his term — some were even during his sophomore years, and it only showed up during his term.

“I already sent a message on our group chat but no one’s responding to me,” you answered, checking your phone again but your message was left on read. “I’ll look more, it must be here somewhere.”

You stood up from your seat, going towards the files on the corner table. Grabbing it one by one to check if there may be some stray documents inside it — not noticing how Jake’s eyes were glued at you the whole time.

Your hair was messily tied with a claw clip, revealing your nape that’s too tempting for Jake, completely a contrast against your immaculate white blouse that’s too thin, he can see the silhouette of your black bra. Then, his eyes trailed downwards to your skirt, the short navy blue skirt of your department. It’s a few inches above your knees but enough for him to see your gorgeous thighs and legs.

Jake gulps tightly. Suddenly, his pants are too tight and his body starts to feel hot, making him loosen his tie. Eyes still glued to you, observing you who’s oblivious about his stares.

Jake’s mind started to haze, wondering why the room’s suddenly too hot despite the white noise coming from the air conditioner. But he remained glued to you — who suddenly dropped a document.

And of course, you don’t pick it up by bending your body, revealing your ass at him like a whore. You kneeled on the floor and picked it up with much demurity. Brushing the dust off your skirt as you stand up before going back to your task.

His knuckles tightly gripped on the edge of the table, eyes watching you like a hawk. An obscene idea formed in his mind. And an idea that he knows isn't allowed and will surely lead him into trouble. That the act of indecency is prohibited by Decelis — but you’re just too tempting.

It’s almost seven in the evening. Usually there were only a few students around the building. A little stunt won’t hurt right? Jake thought before he stood up from his seat, strutting towards you and trapping you with his arms. You were startled, mouth about to open when you felt Jake’s hot breath on your nape — sending chills on your spine.

“You’re going to be the death of me angel,” he whispered to you, tone dark and lustful that you felt yourself shivering. His body pressed closer to you, feeling his hard-on against your ass.

“Jake —” you halted a breath when his lips landed on your neck, peppering kisses and soft nibbles making you bend forward. “Not here — someone might walk in.” you tried to push him away but he immediately grabbed your wrists, unable to tug it as he pressed himself so that you could feel his chest against your back.

“We’re the only one here,” Jake assured. “Can’t wait any longer for you.”

“Jake stop — ah!” The next thing you knew, Jake had you bended on the table, cheeks pressed against the surface with his huge hands stabilizing it. Jake groans softly as he grinds his clothed dick against your skirt, moaning loudly as he rutted on it harshly.

Your heart started beating fast, body shaking and feeling violated with his actions — but at the same time, you can feel yourself heating up. It felt so wrong but your body couldn’t do anything, not even an attempt to struggle your way out was done.

“You want this too do you?” he whispered to you, your eyes widening as he hunches your skirt up to your waist, revealing your black cotton panties underneath. His hands fondling the curve of your butt, making you writhe from his touch.

“Stop —” You shake your head but Jake only pressed your face harsher, tears started to form from your eyes.

“Be a good girl and behave for me? You don’t want to see their golden girl being a bad girl don’t you?” he taunted, and that thought had your heart racing.

You two can’t do this. Someone might walk in any minute now. The door’s unlocked and the small window of the door was enough for you two to be seen. That’s when you struggled your way out but Jake grabs your wrist and holds it on your back.

“We’ll be quick angel, it’ll be nice and you’ll feel good with it,” Jake said, fumbling with his belt with his free hand. He unzips his zipper and releases his cock free from its strain. Angry red and twitching, Jake was eager when he swiftly pulled your panties on the side, slightly rubbing his tip on its entrance which made you move away — but Jake hovered over you.

“Just be quiet for me, going to fuck you real quick you won’t feel any pain —” but it was the complete opposite of what you felt when his huge tip slides in without a warning. You let out a muted cry as Jake sheathes inside you nice and slow yet his huge cock is still too big for you for the sudden penetration.

It felt so wrong in many ways — but you like it. You like the way that you couldn’t do anything about the situation. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock as he pounds on you senseless. You know that Jake isn’t going to stop unless you say so. Even if you tell him to stop a hundred times, he won’t — unless the safe word comes out of your mouth.

But it never did. You enjoyed the way his dick penetrated inside you, your pussy hugging it making you cry in pain and pleasure.

“Jake — ah! It hurts —” you cried, feeling his thrust faster and harsher with his protruding tip kissing your deepest parts.

“It hurts? Don’t fuck with me angel, you love it don’t you? I can feel you getting wet around my dick,” Jake taunted, giving sharp consecutive thrusts leaving you moaning incoherent words.

Your cries filled the whole room, along with the wet slaps of bodies as Jake pounds your pussy with no resentment. His groans lustful and dark, big hands gripping your wrist so tight that you couldn’t do anything but to accept your fate. Heart beating fast that it’s the only thing you can hear against the lewd noises.

Then you felt it. You’re on the edge of your orgasm. A whimper escapes your lips which signaled Jake. He removes his hold from your wrist before wrapping his hands on your neck, choking you tightly as he presses his body against yours, body sticking together, uniforms getting creased as his hips never stop abusing your holes. The table beneath started to creak, shuffling against the marbled tiles while you crunched against the papers that your hand could reach.

“You’re going to cum now? See how you like it? My angel wanted to get fucked wherever she wants to,” Jake whispered against your ears, reminding you that you’re doing something scandalous inside your campus, and the risk of getting caught is there.

That’s the thrill, there’s nervousness inside you that had your pussy tightening against Jake’s length. Earning a sharp groan from him, as he teasingly chuckled. “With the way your pussy’s sucking me in, I can tell you love this angel.”

With his expert thrusts, Jake made you cum in no time. A soft sob escaping your lips as the coil in your stomach tightened, knees and legs shaking that you lost your footing — finding balance on Jake’s pressed body against yours.

Jake follows you shortly after. Filling you with his raw seeds making you whine too loudly that Jake covered your mouth with his hand. He pulls out immediately and starts pumping his dick, spilling a few strands on your ass and skirt, staining your uniform while his cum drips against your inner thighs.

Jake could feel his cock twitching at the sight. You bent over the table inside the club room, uniform messed and creased with his cum stains. He couldn’t believe that he had the power and confidence to do an act that might risk not only his reputation — but also yours.

But in the moment of silence that’s when Jake gently holds you, removing you from the table before facing you towards him — his face filled with a worried expression like he didn’t just violate you earlier. His hands go through your wrists as he lightly massages it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked, still having a post-orgasm haze.

A hint of nervousness hit Jake, hands on your shoulders as he said, “I’m sorry —”

“No, don’t say sorry Jake, I like it —” but you slapped his chest, eyes glaring at him. “But what the fuck was that!? I didn’t know you’re into public sex!”

“It’s your fault, you’re just too tempting,” he admits, sensing a rush of relief to see that you’re fine with it. “You like it though.”

You two have talked about it a few weeks ago. Jake’s eyes widened when you shared that you’re into non consensual things, you love the way that you don’t have control on some things especially in bed — Jake understood what you meant, and you two established a safe word.

You like it, you just didn’t expect that you two are going to do it inside the club room. Somehow, you felt nervous at the thought of breaking school rules.

“Yeah, but what if we got into trouble?” you asked hypothetically, knowing that you two aren’t just students — you two are considered as the role models, it’ll be a huge scandal if they’ve discovered what you two have done.

“But it feels good right? Breaking the rules,” Jake grins, his hands on your waist while his half-hard cock poking your thighs. He seems to be confident about it while the worry look on your face still remains.

“Jake, I’m serious,” you told him, heart still beating fast.

“I’m not going to do it if I’ll be risking something,” he assured, hand brushing your hair as he lightly grazes on your cheeks. “Don’t worry pretty, I won’t give you trouble.”

Jake leans closer for a kiss from you, you could only close your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a heated, torrid kiss that had you two immediately gasping for air after a few minutes.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whispered against his lips. “I can’t believe we broke some rules.”

“And I don’t mind breaking more with you,” Jake whispered, and you don’t know what he meant, but as Jake pulled you for another heated kiss, you couldn’t feel anything but the rapid beating of your heart — something indescribable and only would you feel whenever you’re with Jake.

If there’s one thing to describe with Jake is that he is rational.

He abides by every rule and condition given to him. One mistake can be a risk, and Jake, although a risk-taker, still will play safe if he doesn’t gain anything good from the risk.

Even with your little set-up, Jake respects your conditions and abides by it. That little stunt a few weeks ago wasn’t part of your conditions but you two promised to never do it again inside the campus. Risk is still a risk, and it just sinked into him that his action was too impulsive and risky for you two.

Fortunately, there weren’t any rumors circling around. Jake was assured that no one had witnessed the scene. Over the past weeks, you two returned to your usual setup — meeting only to have sex, nothing more, nothing less.

Inside his room, Jake was in the middle of his break. His laptop is left open while his notes are spread through the table. He leans against his computer chair as he plays one round of online games, something to relax him in between his study sessions.

Suddenly, his phone’s ringtone pings, and although he’s in the middle of the game, Jake stops — abandoning his game because that ringtone is specifically for you. Jake looks up to his phone, receiving a notification from you. It wasn’t the usual message that you’d send if you down to fuck. Something about your message had Jake staring at it for a moment.

Hey, can you pick me up here? Just need someone.” your message says. It was straightforward. No flirty remarks or horny subtexts. Not even an emoji and that period — you don’t use periods.

Jake thought about it for a moment. Wondering if you just sent it to the wrong person. After all, you two only meet to fuck. But in Jake’s mind — in his rational thought, you might be in trouble and the first person you’ve thought of was him.

So hurriedly, he grabbed his jacket and left his room, going towards the room next to him and knocking a few times before it swung open.

“Aera, can I borrow your car?”

Jake arrives at the location you sent. A convenience store wherein he can see you from its window. Sitting alone while fiddling with your phone. Jake calls you from his phone and as you look up, your eyes meet.

“Thank you,” you only mumbled as you sat on the passenger seat.

Jake looks at you for a minute. Compared to your usual perfect getup, you were a mess. Your hair is tied in a disheveled low ponytail, eyes red and puffy, obvious that you had cried, you were even holding back your sobs as you only cling on your jacket. Inside it was a tank top and pajama pants.

You didn’t spare a glance at Jake, your eyes glued at the window of the car. The car was filled with nothing but silence. Jake didn’t want to push you to talk, so he decided to drive away — somewhere that’ll give you a peace of mind.

The drive brought you two to the highway road, somewhere on the border of the city and its neighboring town. Jake had known this route since Aera brought him and Yunjin to her hometown. Turning right and leaving the highway, the car slowly drove towards a less traveled road. Almost empty and dark if it wasn’t for the few orange streetlights to give light to stray cars.

Jake stops by the side of the road, somewhere dark and uphill. That’s when you realized you two had stopped. Glancing at your side, only to see that the top view of the city is in front of you. It’s beautiful against the dark night. Hundreds of buildings and establishments flickering like stars, showing you that you’re just a small piece of the huge city.

“How did you find this?” you asked, almost a whisper.

“Aera, Yunjin, and I took a wrong turn one time,” Jake smiles, remembering the chaos it brought.

It was late in the evening, Aera was panicking while steering the wheel because she took a wrong turn. Yunjin was shouting how this is how a horror movie starts, while Jake was trying his best to find a signal from his phone. They were driving in the dark for so long, screaming and panicking until they passed this road, they eventually stopped. Relief came into their senses because they weren’t trapped in the middle of a haunted road.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled, staring at the view for so long.

“It has become our secret place ever since,” Jake said, smiling. “When we’re tired, stressed, or just need to escape the city, we go here. You’re the only one I brought here, I don’t know about my roommates if they ever brought someone here.”

You ignored the way your heart faltered with his words. This feels nice. You think, being away from the noise of the city. And as you clutch your phone, that’s when you remember the reason why you even left your place.

“My sister and I…we had a fight,” you opened up slowly, making Jake glance at you. “We’re close. Very close, she’s my best friend, my ride or die you can say.”

But a bittersweet smile formed on your lips. “But sometimes she doesn’t understand me.”

“It's just a silly fight about chores and keeping the apartment clean, but —” a choke sob escapes from your lips, trembling as you inhale deeply. “Why does it always have to be me? I know she’s tired from work, but I get tired with school too. She always belittles my tiredness and it’s getting annoying — it’s like I don’t have the right to get tired.”

You let out a deep sigh before aggressively wiping your tears. “She thinks I’m all this smart and good at everything girl and I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes I regret excelling in my studies, all this extracurricular shits and being the golden girl because I can’t fail, I don’t want to disappoint everyone.”

Jake quietly listens to your rant, realizing how you two are so similar yet different too.

You both got the title because you two met the standards. He doesn’t care about the title, it wasn’t a crowning glory for him. While you hold onto it like it’s your pride, it’s something that will prove your worth. You may seem so alike but you two see the title so differently.

“She doesn’t understand that I am not that smart, I study hard, yes, but I am not that intelligent. And everytime I bring that up, she thinks that I’m just lowering my self-esteem, but it’s the truth! I’m not good with everything! Do you know why I’m a communications student? Because I hate math Jake, that’s a cursed subject and it’s my lowest in my records. A fucking 2.5.”

Jake, being an engineering student, merely laughs at your rant. You had a pissed expression written on your face but the sobs never stopped. Jake wonders whether to take you seriously or not. But he nods at your words, trying to understand your sentiments because even he isn’t that great at some fields, like literature or anything with subjective essay writings. He hates those kinds of subjects.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” you apologized immediately, realizing that Jake hasn’t said a word throughout your whole rant. “I know I told you that we shouldn’t do things like this, but I just really need some escape.”

“Don’t you have friends?” he asked, a curious question that seems to be far from your worries.

“I have but they don’t study at Decelis,” you laughed, finding his question funny yet comforting. “That’s why I love being in the student aid, it feels nice talking to students and helping them. Some juniors look up to me, they don’t know I’m just this imposter who’s not really great at everything.”

“You’re not an imposter y/n,” Jake said. “You’ve worked hard to gain the title. They gave it to you because you deserve it.”

“Do I? Or is it because there weren’t any candidates this year? That’s why they just chose me since I’m the last option.” you rebutted.

“Maybe you’re sister’s right,” Jake said with a serious tone. “Maybe you’re just lowering your self-esteem. Y/n, you were last year’s Selene, you used to be the head radio jock of the radio station, and you never left the department honors’ list every semester — fuck, you’re the vice president of the student aid, everyone loves you! Is that enough proof for you that you deserve the title?”

You don’t know why but your mouth shut down when Jake rambled. You never thought that those words would come out of Jake’s mouth. Shock? Perhaps, asking how Jake knows you this much while you only know him through his touch and golden boy image?

Then it struck you and your setup with him. Like cold water pouring on you as you realized that you might have slightly broke the rule because you went to him and instead of asking to be fucked, you vented out your frustrations on him.

A curse left your lips as you glanced at Jake, eyes pleading and yearning as he only stared at you with his usual neutral expression, like he was waiting for your response.

But you only grabbed Jake by his hoodie and pulled him for a kiss, aggressive and salty as tears still continued to fall from your eyes. Strong hands managed to push you away but your hands remained at his clothes.

“What the —”

“Forget everything I said Jake, we only meet to fuck remember?”

Jake wasn’t able to rebut when you pulled him for another kiss. At first he doesn’t move, but slowly he responds to your kiss, light and slow, like he’s careful of breaking you.

And you hated feeling like you’re fragile. You pulled out of the kiss to grab the gear to adjust Jake’s seat — enough to give you space to sit on his lap and give him another heated kiss.

Jake lets you dominate him as you straddle on his lap. Kissing him hurriedly as your quick hands immediately went between his thighs. Palming his cock, making him groan against your lips. You’ve done this many times and you know where this will lead — you being fucked out of your sadness.

But slowly, Jake stops responding to your kisses. Suddenly, he grabs your face, separating it from you. Seeing him with his angry expression and flushed lips, you could only whine as you grind against his cock, hoping that he’ll give you what you want.

“Y/n stop —” Jake sternly said. “You’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t do this.”

But you bitterly smiled at him. “Jake, do you know why I do hook-ups? Because it’s my escape, so please, just make me forget everything.”

“Not with this y/n —”

“Jake please! You might think I’m weak and vulnerable but I know what I am doing.” you said with a serious tone, pleading as you grabbed both his hands, placing it on your waist as your hips continued to move beneath him.

Jake stared at you for a minute, thinking that he had no choice but to agree. It’s your setup with him. You two are just there for pleasure. If you can fuck him out of his frustration, why can’t he do it with your sadness? It felt unfair to go against your want.

The two of you moved on the backseat. You lay down as Jake prepared you, scissoring your insides hastily, curling at the spot until you’re wet enough for him. He pulls his pants down enough to release his cock, pumping it lightly, smearing his precum for lubrication, and quickly aligns it on your entrance. Slowly, Jake sheaths inside you, earning a moan from you that he started moving.

Jake’s thrust was frantic. Fast but wasn’t harsh, like he was trying his best to make you cum. He could only close his eyes shut as he pounds inside you, leaving you in heaving moans. His hands are both on your waist while your hands could only hold onto it for support.

“Faster, please —” You begged but Jake can’t and instead he closes his eyes because he couldn’t bear to see your face. Your eyes red and puffy from crying — yet it haunted him even in his mind. Your conversations replaying in your mind, Jake suddenly halted his action.

“I’m sorry —” Jake could only groan, taking a sharp exhale. “I just can’t, I know you want this, but this is still wrong.”

Jake removes his hands from your waist, almost feeling himself disgusted to do the act. He looks down on you whose eyes watered and that even breaks his heart more.

“Fuck, I just can’t fuck you out of your sadness y/n, you don’t need sex to escape your worries.” he said to you.

And softly, you said, “I’m okay with this.”

“And I’m not, you can forget your worries without me using you.” Jake stated, his tone became serious but there’s a hint of worry on it.

You only stared at him. Eyes wide as it just sinked into you what happened. Jake didn’t want to have sex with you when it’s the only thing that you two should be doing. But he did it out of respect for you, because he knows that your emotions are all over the place.

“I’m sorry,” you only cried, making Jake pull you upwards, wrapping you close to him as you cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

Jake hushes you, “it’s not your fault, I’m not mad don’t worry. Just let it out.”

“I just want to be seen.” you confessed, holding tightly on his jacket. “It’s like everything I do is not enough for everyone.”

“You’ve done everything, you’ve worked hard for the title. Everyone loves you y/n, don’t ever forget that,” Jake softly said. Hands possessively around your waist as his other hand drew circles around your back.

“It’s not enough —”

“You’ve proven your worth. They gave you the title because they know that you deserve it,” Jake said. “Don’t ever think that you’re worthless — that you’ll find your worth using sex, you’re more than that.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you,” you mumbled, feeling guilty all of the sudden.

“I understand your part, but I just can’t do it with your emotions all over the place,” Jake reassured, and that made you better than before. He knows his boundaries with you, agreeing to each other’s condition but at the same time, he doesn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability.

“Thank you,” you only breathed. “I — it’s just — I just need to distract myself.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” Jake explained. Hand patting the back of your shoulder. “This could be your breather. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Then, can we stay like this?” you asked suddenly, glancing at him who only remembered that he’s still inside you.

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Do you want to?"

You only nod, snuggling closer to him, resting on his chest as you can feel the faint beat of his heart. “You’re warm, and it eases me…I don’t know, I know we said we shouldn’t do this but…I think this is the closest thing that we can do as sex.”

Jake only brushes your hair softly, a kiss landing on top of your hair before he said, “if it eases you, of course we can — and don’t worry about it, we can break a few rules just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” you mumbled back. Jake’s willing to break the rules just for you and it reminded his words back at the club room, leaving you questions if those rules also applied to your setup.

But you remained laying on Jake’s chest, while his arms were around your waist. The two of you laid there in silence. Warm bodies eloping underneath the cold hum of the car’s air conditioner. Jake didn’t try to move, worried that it might stir you. His swelling cock still inside you, pulsing as your warm, gummy walls enveloped it.

Jake knows that this is against the rules. Cockwarming is something you two agreed to use for foreplay but this one? It’s different, and new, — and rawfully intimate. With you finding comfort to have him inside you, making you at ease, Jake thinks that this one is out of each other’s conditions.

He let out a sigh as he remembered how you two shouldn’t act like lovers. His mind racing with thoughts. Thinking if he should’ve just fucked you earlier, it wouldn’t lead to this kind of warm between you.

But his conscience wouldn’t let him. So he lets you sleep in his chest, and as you deeply fall into your slumber with the night becoming deep, Jake decides to slowly remove you from him. You whimper a little but Jake managed to put on your pajamas back. Pulling his sweatpants up before driving back to the city.

Back in the apartment, Yunjin was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water when she heard the door open. She quickly leaves the kitchen and her eyes went wide to see Jake carrying you behind his back, gripping tightly to your sleeping figure.

And as he makes eye contact with his roommate, he remembers everything Yunjin had advised him.

“Sorry, I don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her to her home,” Jake excused immediately.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “attachment is what will ruin what you two have, I’m just saying Jake.”

“I know. It’s just that she has nowhere else to go.”

“It’s fine, but I’m just reminding you.”

Jake only nods. He went straight to his room wherein he places you gently down in his bed. He changes into his sleepwear before laying beside you. Hands instinctively brushing your soft hair like it was on auto-pilot.

Then he stops — ponder for a moment, wondering if what you two did is still part of your setup.

But he knows that it wasn’t. You two didn’t have sex and he seemingly broke the rule. Everything that you two did was too intimate for a pair of fuck buddies. Attachment — as what Yunjin said, might ruin what you two have. It’s not too late for him to distance himself.

Jake knows it was the rational thing to do. The moment you two established this setup, no rules were broken until tonight, and it’s because of him.

It was rational for him to fuck you to escape your worries. It’s the agreement that you two agreed on. Regardless of whatever emotions you had because at the end of the day, you two are just there for sex.

But maybe, Jake wanted to break some rules. Ruin whatever you two have, and just be a mess — far from his golden boy image who always had sort things right.

And he couldn’t believe that he’s having those thoughts. Jake has always been rational. He thinks ahead before making a choice. But with you, he somehow mixes his emotions and thinks about what might affect you.

You probably put a spell on him, and Jake wanted to curse you for entering his life as a hurricane, ruining his perfectly planned college life. — but he didn’t, instead, he planted a kiss on your forehead as he whispered good night to you. Because he knows deep inside that he wants the chaos too.

By morning, Jake found himself alone in his bed. Blinking, he stares at the empty side for a moment before he sits up to grab his phone, seeing that it was a Thursday. He had no classes that day but maybe you had, that’s why you left early.

Quickly, he left his room, brushing his bedroom hair that became messier as he walked towards the kitchen when he heard bright laughter by the dining table. Familiar voices that are talking together. Jake’s feet stopped for a moment, listening to their soft murmurs and chuckles, sleepy mind trying to process everything before entering the area.

There he found you, sitting along Yunjin and Aera, with plates of full breakfast on the table. The three of them stopped, glancing at Jake who seems to be still drowsy in the morning.

“There he is,” Yunjin laughed. “We were just talking about you.”

Yunjin’s words became mute as Jake’s eyes never left you. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night, sitting beside his roommates, who he cherishes so much, with a wide smile on your face. It wasn’t your typical smile, it was full of laughter and bright. A total contrast from your sobbing expression last night.

A relief rushed in Jake’s chest, seeing how you’ve become comfortable immediately with his roommates. He didn’t even realise that he was staring for too long that Aera had to literally shout his name — snapping out of his thoughts.

“Dude, are you still asleep?” Yunjin asked, laughing as Jake started to move.

“Sorry, maybe I was.” Jake apologized before sitting on the empty chair.

Jake remembered how you said you don’t have any friends in Decelis, that’s why seeing that you’re warming up with Yunjin and Aera, he was glad that you somehow found some female friends that you can comfortably talk to. He overhears you three talking about skincares, novels, even their chaotic love life was shared to you who only gasps at the details.

By ten in the morning, Yunjin and Aera left for Decelis, leaving Jake and you alone inside the dorm, volunteering to clean the dishes on their behalf.

“Do you have a schedule for today?” Jake asked, after rinsing the last plate.

“I do, but it’ll be later in the afternoon,” you answered. “You?”

“I’m free for the whole day,” Jake said. “I should drop you off at your place so that you can get ready.”

“Okay, sure, thanks Jake…not only for that, but for last night too.” you softly said, making Jake stop for a moment but he gives you a small smile.

“It’s no worries, you can stay there, I’ll just go take a shower.” Jake excused. “...do you want to join me?”

Your eyes widened, an unusual invitation but you only muttered your “yes’ before Jake reached for your hand, instinctively, you accepted it as he guided you towards the bathroom.

You wonder where this will lead. You sit on the closed toilet seat as Jake goes back and forth from his room towards the bathroom, lending you a clean towel and some spare clothes of his.

“I don’t know if you use specific products, you can just steal some from my roommates. I'll just buy them in exchange,” Jake stated. That’s when you noticed the pile of toiletries on a holder beside the shower. Three tiers that contain different products, finding it nice how organized that roommates were.

It made you smile, “you sure love your roommates, and they love you too.”

“They’re like sisters to me, we’ve been living together for so long that it feels like we’re a family,” Jake shared as he closed the bathroom door before glancing at you. “Let’s go?”

The two of you stripped off from each other’s clothes before going inside the shower. Jake opens the shower, cold water hitting your bare body startling you. You close your eyes as you brush your hair slowly making it wet.

“Can I?” you heard Jake ask, and you don’t know what he meant, but he grabs the white bottle of shampoo that smelled like sakura flowers. He lathers it in his hands before carefully starting massaging your hair.

His hands were gentle, soft and careful as his long fingers brushed the tangle strands. Strangely the act was so intimate and gentle, which you two shouldn’t do. It’s not part of your setup. But no one said a word about it, no one reprimanded the other for the act. The two of you stood there as Jake continued massaging your hair.

Then he massaged a certain spot on your head, which you mindlessly moaned. Eyes wide when you realized your action, but Jake only chuckled as he continued his action before rinsing off the shampoo out of your hair.

“I can do it from here,” you said. Grabbing the bottle of conditioner, before glancing at Jake who immediately lets you be.

The two of you continued showering together. Quiet in your own world, with the raindrop-like sound of the falling water as a noise. It felt odd for you, never tried showering with a male, the proximity felt uneasy since you two are bare without the act of sex. You become wary of your movement but at the same time, you’re at ease because you’re with Jake.

It’s not obvious that his eyes darted on you at some moments. You’re not that dumb to feel it, but you ignore it, immersing yourself with the cold shower as you rinse off the conditioner from your hair.

Then there was it. A kiss on your shoulder was the next thing you felt. With the cold water trailing down on you two, Jake’s warm body pressed against yours and slowly wraps his arms around you as he continues to pepper kisses on your shoulder, towards your neck making you tilt it to give him more space.

“Let me make up with you,” he proposed. “Make you feel good, more good than you think.”

A soft gasp was only your answer. Closing your eyes Jake tightens his hold on you. His lips were busy with the way he kisses your body nonstop. Showering you with love and warmth as a form of apology from last night.

You turned around to face him. Eyes locked on his drowsy ones as you brush his wet bangs before trailing your fingers on his cheeks down to his jawline. Memorizing every detail of his face as he remained staring at you.

You wanted Jake — no, you need him. You can’t have him because it’ll break the rules, but you need his warmth and closeness. The same warmth that gave you comfort last night. Your eyes were pleading as you wrapped your arms around his neck before standing on your toes to kiss him. Jake automatically leaned on, kissing you back with much tenderness — reciprocating the way you kissed him. Warm, and sensual, different from the heated makeouts you two had.

No one said a thing about the way the atmosphere felt different. You two stood there, drowning in the way each lips moved and tasted each other like it’s your last moment on earth.

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. But the next thing you knew, Jake had you cornered against the tiles, the shower continued to run cold water yet you can feel the warm of each other’s skin — not lustful, not hungry, something intense and dangerous that both of you know are too risky to bring up.

You stared at him once again. Hands brushing against his wet hair as the thumping beat of your heart becomes too fast and loud, but the serene silence inside the shower deafens it.

“I don’t want you to make me feel good,” you whispered to him. “I just need you close to me Jake.”

And Jake complied. He made you melt deeply into his touch. He made you sure that you felt like a goddess and he’s your devotee. His hands found their way to touch every part of your body, tracing and remembering every inch of it, like he’s scared that he’ll forget you. Making sure not a single part is left behind as he takes you against the wall.

The loud echoing moans mixed together with the continuous rain shower. Your whimpers and groans drowning as each other’s lips find its way with much tenderness — the bathroom has become hot yet intimate as you pull him closer, so close like you don’t want to let go of him. The proximity between you two only made it more special and different from the times you two had sex.

You’re taking Jake all the way in, holding him closely to your body, chest pressed to each other as your hands clasps on his wet hair strands as he thrust his huge cock to you until you’re seeing stars.

Jake follows after, painting your insides white as he captures your lips once again. His cock softens inside you, but he remains glued to you as your arms are wrapped around his neck, feeling safe and warm against his body.

“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence. His eyes searched for you, hoping that your puffy red eyes won’t meet him.

“I’m good,” you answered, feeling the haze coming as you smiled at him. Jake felt relieved to see that your eyes looked fine and normal unlike last night.

After the act, the two of you finished showering. In tranquil silence, bodies and hair were dried before putting on fresh clothes. With that, Jake picks up the car keys and drives you to your place.

As you reached the entrance of your apartment, you took off your seatbelt but remained there, glancing at Jake whose eyes were on the road. Now that everything has come down, you two realized that everything you’ve done starting last night had completely ruined your setup.

Sure you two had sex inside the shower, but it was different. And Jake knows that too. There’s no way to deny the rapid beating of your heart, and as much as you wanted to acknowledge what you’re feeling right now, it still feels so wrong.

“Thanks Jake,” you started. “Let’s just pretend everything didn’t happen.”

“Alright,” Jake shortly answers, not even batting an eye at you, and that earns a harsh tug on your heart. So quickly, you went out of the car and closed the door, leaving Jake who’s too quiet that he hadn’t realized that your words had crushed his heart.

It’s been a week since you last saw Jake mainly for sex. You still see him in the club room, still in his serious president mode while you do your duties. You two haven’t talked personally and it sort of scared you. Wondering if you had hurt his feelings that day.

But then again, no feelings should be involved, so why should you feel guilty about a possibility that shouldn’t happen in the first place? You chose to ignore it and decided to maybe take a break on your setup since things have been pretty busy lately, especially when graduation is in a few months.

You only hum your way towards your department building, listening to your daily playlist — oblivious to the stares you’ve been receiving. You’re used to stares, but you didn’t notice that the stares were different from the usual looks you always receive.

When you arrived at your classroom that’s when you realized that they suddenly felt cautious around you. Your forehead creased with confusion as it didn’t take you a minute to process everything because a classmate approached you.

“They’re talking about you,” she said, tone filled with curiosity. “Is it true?”

“What’s true?” you asked, confused with her question.

“Someone saw you having sex with Jake Sim in the club room.”

You felt your world shattering. Eyes wide as you looked at her as you freezed from where you were standing.

“Where did you hear that?” you asked, trying to stitch up a lie because not only your image is in danger, but also your standing as a student.

It’s a grief offense. You know what this may result. Suspension. Community service or maybe being stripped off the honor’s list — which is what you’ve been aiming for. No. This can’t be.

“It’s circulating around the campus,” she said. “Everyone’s talking about you and Jake.”

Fuck, now it’s a hot topic inside the campus. You know how fast words can spread, and there’s no escape from it. Your lips started to tremble as you tried your best to try and make out a good excuse but another classmate approached you.

“Hey, you alright? Mr. Choi is looking for you,” she whispered, an assuring pat on your back was all you felt as you nod at her. Nervousness hitting your body as the university’s disciplinary officer is looking for you.

So it had reached the higher-ups? You could only let out a bitter smile as you turned around and left the classroom. Shame hitting your body that you couldn’t help but to lower your head as you walked your way towards the administration’s building.

As you entered the office, you saw Jake sitting on the couch. Both looked at each other but no one said a word. Mr. Choi gestured to you to sit on the couch beside Jake, sitting on it while the man sat on his chair behind the table.

The air was cold and the tension was too suffocating. You’re there frozen as Mr. Choi stares at you two.

“There’s a rumor circulating around the campus that you two were doing some…indecency inside the club room,” Mr. Choi started, both glancing at the two of you.

Your hand finds its way to your finger, prickling on the skin of your thumb as your heart starts beating way too loud that it’s deafening your surroundings.

This is it. No more Latin honors. Suspension at a prestigious university, and you’re probably not going to graduate this year. Your parents will be disappointed with you, they’ll throw you out and —

“Is there proof?” Jake asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“There isn’t, but it’s spreading outside the campus,” Mr. Choi rested his hands on the table, and somehow that made you relieved. “You two are the image of a good Decelis student, so to hear this rumor — we wanted to take abrupt action.”

“As the image of a good Decelis I think me and ms. l/n knows that we should oblige to the rules of the university, and such indecency shouldn’t be done inside the club, even within the campus,” Jake answered. Blatantly lying through his breath as he gave Mr. Choi a smile —the professional one that he uses to talk to higher ups. That smile that convinces the higher-ups that he’s a good student and it’ll work, they’ll fall for it everytime.

“Ms. l/n? Do you want to say anything?” you flinched as you looked at the disciplinary officer.

“Mr. Sim is right Sir. Choi, acts like that are forbidden according to the school rulebook, we aren’t that stupid to ruin the image of Decelis” you simply said, nodding before quipping a small smile.

The man only looked at you for a minute before letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry for causing you two troubles,” Mr. Choi apologized. “I believe you two — it’s just, rumors can be true, and we’re just surprised it involves you two who are great students. I know that you two aren’t prone to pre-marital sex and relationships, but this just shocked not only me, but also other concerned staff.”

Jake lightens the atmosphere by chuckling softly. “We understand Mr. Choi. It's no worries on our part and we’re glad to cooperate with you. Whoever started the rumor must be bored with their life.”

“Are you two together?” Mr. Choi asked all of a sudden, glancing at the two of you.

“We’re not, we’re simply acquainted,” you answered quickly. Too quick that Mr. Choi noticed how your voice was a bit defensive.

The man merely chuckles. “Alright Ms. l/n, you two may go back to your class.”

As the two of you left the office, Jake’s racing heart slowly slowed down. He only stood there frozen as he would never have thought that in his life that he’ll lie to a higher-up — or even be sent to the disciplinary officer, or just find himself denying a rumor.

His knuckles turned round, nails digging on the palm as he tried to calm himself down. But his mind was clouded, he tried to compose himself as he started walking mindlessly — not until he felt you grabbing his shoulders.

You had a worried look on your face. Eyes trying to look for his stare but he’s just too numb with everything that just happened.

“Jake —”

“Can you give me time to think y/n?” he said with a cold tone, making you stop. Jake didn’t notice the way he talked to you. His mind is still hazy as he lets out a deep sigh, frustration written all over him but he’s trying hard to act rational.

“Give you time to think?” you inhaled, disbelief written on your face. “Did you even had time to think when you bended me on that table and fuck me all of the sudden?”

A glare was given to you before Jake scoffs. “Suddenly? You liked it too, didn’t you? I would’ve stopped if you just said the safe word — but you didn’t, you fucking enjoyed it too. So don’t put this blame only on me. We’re in this together.”

You didn’t argue back. Jake’s right. You liked it too. The risk and anxiety of getting caught, there was adrenaline when you two did it. It was consensual, that's why there’s no one to blame between the two of you. The only problem was that the rumors floated, and even if you two had denied it, people would still talk no matter what.

Both your reputations are on the line. There’s no guarantee that there’s no proof. It might circulate in a few days or maybe weeks. You don’t know when but it’s scaring you. Even right now you’re scared, everything is at risk now.

“I did enjoy it Jake,” you snarled at him. “And you’re right, we’re in this together, but I hate how you’re suddenly cold to me. Pushing me away like you weren’t so caring and gentle with me a few days ago.”

“You shouldn’t have given meaning to it,” Jake rebuts. “And the last time I recall, it was you who told me that we should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I am not giving meaning to it. It’s just that you’re so quick to suddenly be cold to me like it was my fault that there's a rumor spreading about us.”

“Because you’re suddenly confronting me! Do you know how scared I was inside the office? Everything is at risk y/n, my title, image, my academic standing — I’m on the verge of not graduating this year!” Jake vented out.

“You think you’re the only one who’s at risk? I’m also at risk Jake!”

“Then what do you want me to do? Comfort you? Make you feel better like I did that night? Can you live your life without getting validation from anyone!?”

That’s when Jake stopped — realizing that he crossed the line. The shocked expression written all over your face as your lips started to tremble, and yet, it formed into a thin line, holding yourself back as you raised your chin to face him.

“Is that what you really think of me? But what do I expect from you? You’re still a guy at the end of the day. You’re no different from other guys I’ve slept with.” you took a step forward. Eyes wide filled with frustration and anger.

“You know what, you’re right Jake,” a bitter smile forming on your lips. “And it’s unfair because I trusted you that night, you assured me that we won’t be in trouble. But look at us now Jake.”

“Then, you shouldn’t have trusted me,” Jake coldly rebutted. “Maybe I’m just an imposter just like you deep inside.”

“You really are Jake Sim,” you nodded in agreement. “Maybe you aren’t who I think you were, and I can’t believe you gave me enough validation and respect for me to think that I still have enough dignity left. And I’m not saying this because I gave meaning to it, I’m saying this because you still respected me despite our setup — but in the end, you’re going to throw me away like everyone else did, just because we got into trouble, for something both of us have done.”

Jake didn’t say a word. You only heave out a sigh as tears start forming in your eyes. “And now, you’re looking at me like you’re so disgusted of me, like I’m the one who spread the rumors. But you know what? I don’t want to cause more trouble for you Jake. Let’s just end our setup, since you care more about your image than me.”

“Fine by me,” Jake simply replied. “And in the first place, I shouldn’t care about you, we’re fuck buddies remember?”

That was it. The final nail to the coffin. You can feel your heart crashing into thousands of pieces and you hated that feeling since it’s prohibited in the first place.

“You’re right Jake, and that’s what you’ll think of me, not the golden girl, not your vice president — or maybe a graduating student who’s also involved in the rumors. It’ll be easy for you to throw me away since no emotional attachment should be involved between the two of us.”

You walked away first. The heavy feeling inside you becomes more heavier as the tears start to form while Jake’s eyes never leave you. He wanted to follow you, grab you arms and maybe, correct every word he said to you. But he remained glued from where he was standing, frustration still clouding in his mind and anxiety still high.

The whole day passed by in a glimpse. The rumors still circulated, Jake ignored it even though there were some strangers approaching him to ask if the rumors were true. He only walks away from them, especially when your name slips out of their mouth.

You never left his mind. Not even when he returned to his apartment. Dropping his bag as he reaches to sit on the couch. He lets out a deep shaky exhale as his heart is still beating fast due to his anxiety, feeling it exploding any minute.

The door of the apartment opened, revealing his roommates. Shock written all over their faces and Jake immediately knew why.

“The rumors,” Yunjin breathes. “Were they true?”

Jake didn’t answer Yunjin’s question. He only sat there frozen, creating a staring contest with his roommates.

“Shit it was real?” Yunjin asked, eyes almost popping out of its socket, “you two were so fucking horny that you two banged inside the club room!?”

“Wait, are you serious?” Aera stated. “I didn’t fucking expect that you two, Decelis’ supposed role students would have sex inside the club room.”

And the more they pointed out, the more guilt swelled in Jake’s heart.

“Mr. Choi called us to his office,” Jake shared, earning a gasp from his roommates.

“What happened?” Yunjin asked.

“Nothing, they don’t have proof, Mr. Choi thinks that we didn’t do it,” Jake explained, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “Stupid people, if they’re going to spread a rumor like that at least show some fucking proof.”

“Are you okay?” Aera concernedly asked.

“I’m fine —” Jake stops for a moment, lips tightly sealed as he glances at his roommate. “I was just shit-scared for a second. I just didn’t expect this would happen.”

“You two should be glad that there were no videos or photos,” Yunjin stated. “Really, what went through your mind to do it in the club room.”

“I don’t know either, it was just the two of us left there, and we’re like the last students there,” Jake replied. “I did it out of impulse.”

“Jake, you never act out of impulse.”

“I know but —” Jake lets out a sigh. “I wonder what their reaction would be to see that their golden students are doing something indecent inside the campus.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “is that a fucking kink or something.”

“No, it’s something I’ve been thinking about, the feeling of disappointing people,” Jake answers. “Thinking of what their reaction would be if they realized that I’m not as “golden” as they think I am.”

“And you involved y/n in that impulsive idea of yours?” Yunjin angrily asked. “Jake, do you even know the cause of your impulsive idea?”

Jake didn’t answer. He suddenly remembered your confrontation earlier. Remembering that it’s not only him or his image that’s at risk. So is yours, and he just happened to make it worse even though it was his idea who brought you two here. Jake curses under his breath sharply, making both Yunjin and Aera looked at him.

“You know it’s not only about what happened in the club room that’s been talked about right?” Aera added.

That’s when Jake glances at both of them, forehead creasing, “what do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” Aera exhales. “Her sex life has been spreading inside the campus, guys left and right are sharing that they slept with her, they think that she slept with almost every guy in Decelis.”

“You’re fucking kidding me?” Jake angrily asked.

“They’re going around calling her a hypocrite because she’s the golden girl but she sleeps with a lot of guys. They think she doesn’t deserve the title —”

“She got the title because she was intelligent and met its standard, why does it correlate with her sex life?”

“That’s just how people are Jake,” Aera answered. “No matter how intelligent or beautiful you are, the moment a scandal is linked to you — you're done.”

The guilt inside Jake’s heart became heavier. He doesn’t know that but it doesn’t matter, what mattered was that it was his fault why two got involved in a rumor. And instead of assuring her just like what he had promised that night, he pushed you away — even carelessly spat words that didn't mean anything.

“I fucked up,” he whispered.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “what did you do?”

“I fucked up —” Jake deeply lets out a sigh, standing up from his seat, startling his roommates. “Shit, I said some things to her and —”

“Jake, stop,” Yunjin said, approaching Jake. “Breathe for us, calm down."

"How can I? I need to talk to her —"

"Give y/n space first, she might not be ready to talk to you.” Yunjin immediately interjected while she slowly pushes Jake down to sit on the couch once again.

“If it eases you, we can talk to her and ask how she is doing.” Aera suggested, with Yunjin agreeing.

“Please,” Jake breathed. “Tell her I’m sorry and —”

“You’re going to tell her that the next time you two meet,” Yunjin stated. “But for now, take some rest, we know that you’re also affected by what happened.”

Jake merely nods. He could only lower his head as all he could feel was guilt, shame, and anxiety. He didn’t even notice that Yunjin and Aera sat beside him, both arms wrapping around him as they lightly brushed Jake’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Jake only apologized.

“We’re not mad at you,” Yunjin insisted.

“You’ve been thinking a lot don’t you? Failing?” Aera lightly asked.

“Yeah, in the end, I was still scared of it,” Jake explained. “I just realized that there’s still a hint of pride in being the golden boy.”

His roommates only nod, “but don’t ever do it again Jake. We still need to see you give the valedictorian’s speech.”

“That’s not my goal you know?”

“Right, and if it was given to you, you’ll end up loving it still,” Aera argued, making the three of them laugh once again.

In the midst of the noise and chaos of today’s event, Jake finds himself in the tranquil comfort of his roommates, thankful that he had them by his side.

It’s been a few days since the rumor aired — and you and Jake had called it off.

A few days and yet your name still lingered inside the campus. New rumors and false information that seem to be an exaggeration. At first, you were scared to go to Decelis, knowing that all eyes will be on you. You attended class and tried to be invisible as much as possible. You skipped your organizations and went straight home immediately. You didn’t want to cause more noise, knowing that your image is ruined and there’s no point of redeeming it.

But today seems to be different. Jake was surprised to see you inside the club room, doing your duties as the student aid’s vice president. You had a serious look on your face as you talked to your assistant who seemed to be following your orders without any wariness.

Jake stood there for a moment before Jiwon called him out, snapping out of his thoughts as he sat beside Jiwon who immediately started her report. He lets his assistant talk but his eyes never leave yours. Wondering if he had approached you, would you push him away? Or talk to him and act like he’s just an acquaintance to you? Pretend everything about you two doesn’t exist?

It’s been a few days and you and Jake haven’t talked. The last thing he knew was that you don’t want to talk to him anymore. Yunjin told him that you don’t want to cause him trouble and Jake wanted to tell you that it’s not your fault — it’s his. He wanted to explain everything.

But everything’s ruined. His harsh words cut deep through you that not even a simple “sorry” could fix it. It didn’t help that you’re still being thrown off by everyone, so what’s the point of talking to Jake? Will it fix everything? Your only wish was that the remaining weeks would be peaceful because you just can’t wait to get the hell out of Decelis.

Hours passed inside the organization. The atmosphere was peaceful yet for Jake, it was suffocating with you still acting like he’s a ghost.

“Jiwon, my team’s report is done now, I had it sent to your email,” Jake lifts up his head to see you standing in front of their table. But your eyes weren’t on him — you were talking to Jiwon like she’s the president of the club and the one you’re directly reporting to.

Jiwon looks at her laptop, clicking a few buttons before glancing at you and giving you a smile, “All clear for me, you’re leaving now?”

“Yeah, I have errands to do,” you told Jiwon casually. “I’ll be going now, bye-bye.”

“Bye! Take care on the way home,” Jiwon smiled, and you gave the girl a smile — a small smile that Jake knows is out of decency.

As you exit the club room, whispers start to murmur inside. Foul words and remarks about you began to echo around the room, making him tilt his head as he turned around to look at his staff.

“Do you think that she’ll agree if I ask her to sleep with me?” a male sophomore snickered, and that was Jake’s breaking point. He was about to stand up when Jiwon’s voice got to him first.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Does your mom teach you manners?” Jiwon angrily said to the sophomore, creating tension inside the club room. “Before you say anything about y/n, check the fucking mirror first, you really think she’ll sleep with that face of yours?”

The sophomore apologized immediately, but Jiwon wasn’t having any of it, “she’s still your senior, the vice president of this organization — if you can’t respect her just because of a dismissed rumor, then fucking leave, we don’t want shitty people here.”

No one dared to reply to Jiwon. Jake could only nod as Jiwon returned to her seat, going back to her work like she didn’t lecture the whole room.

“It’s always the ugly guys who have the audacity,” Jiwon muttered under her breath, making Jake chuckle softly.

“I just hope y/n is okay,” she added, with a concerned look on her face. “I was surprised that she’s here today — have you talked to her?”

Jake was surprised with Jiwon’s question, “why would you think of that?”

“Because you’re the president!? And I know that the rumors about you two were quickly dismissed but you should’ve told her to lay low for a while, people still talk.”

Jake doesn’t know what to say to Jiwon. How can he tell her the whole context of the mess? It’s not that Jiwon will judge him, but it’s hard to explain everything to his friend.

So he only gave him a small smile before nodding, “I’ll tell her tomorrow, you seem to be worried about her.”

“Of course! Why would I? She’s kind and sweet, and what she does outside the campus doesn’t reflect her image inside,” Jiwon answers, and Jake wishes that you could’ve heard those words.

But Jake wasn’t able to get the chance to talk to you the following day because a photo of you and him circulated around the campus.

You heard it from a classmate of yours. Showing the photo which you only stared at for a minute. It was taken from outside. It was a bit blurry, but it’s the two of you kissing, clothes still intact, thankfully. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fully covered by Jake who was leaning towards you.

Your heart dropped on your stomach. You wanted to cry or maybe throw your classmates’ phone out of rage. But you returned it to her, giving her a bitter smile before putting on your earphones — deafening your surroundings, knowing that they’ll be talking behind your back.

It had you wondering what’s the intention of the owner of the photo? Does it satisfy them to ruin one’s image? Why now? When they could’ve just posted it along with the rumor a few weeks ago. It’s like step by step, they wanted to ruin you two slowly. You don’t even know if their target is you or Jake or maybe both of you.

But as you sat there, you know it’s no use confronting that person. You’re just preparing for Mr. Choi to call you and give you a suspension for not only lying to him — but also for breaking school rules.

But it never happened. The whole morning passed by with ease. Classes acted like normal, you listened to your teacher’s lectures like there’s not a photo of you circulating around.

During lunch time, you decided to just skip the rest of the day and go back to your home and maybe, cry all of it because even though you’ve become numb from the past few days of being shamed by everyone, this one is just the cherry on top of everything that happened.

You know that the stare will be there the moment you exit your department building. You didn’t care about them anymore, they’ve been talking about you a few days ago, this one isn’t new to you at all. So you walked with your head high, not caring if they're talking about you. You know they don’t see you as the golden girl anymore and honestly, you don’t care about them either.

“Y/n!” you stopped your tracks when you felt someone grabbing your shoulder. Turning around to see Yunjin and Aera along with her boyfriend, Jay.

“Hey,” Yunjin was first to hug you, followed by Aera which confused you but you could only melt to their hug, grateful for the sudden comfort.

“Are you okay? You know what, I shouldn’t have said that,” Yunjin quickly said as she broke from the hug.

“I’m fine, I’m just — I don’t care about what people say anymore, they don’t even know the whole story,” you explained. “How’s Jake?”

Both of them only stared at each other, and it made you raise an eyebrow.

“Is he okay?”

“Jake’s going to owe up everything,” Yunjin confessed. “He’s talking to Mr. Choi at the moment.”

You felt your ears deafening at the sudden revelation. “Wait — why!? Why would he do that? He’ll be suspended.”

“Why do you think so y/n?” Aera smiles at you, and for a moment, you were confused by it. Then it just sinked into your mind.

“It’s not because of me isn’t it?” you slowly asked.

His roommates only exchanged a fair share of glances. — that’s when you knew. Your feet quickly turned around to run towards the office of the student affairs, while Yunjin and Aera watched as you disappeared in their sight. A small smile tugging both on their lips.

You were catching your breath as you reached the second floor. Turning left towards the long hallway where Mr. Choi’s office was. Sprinting towards there, your feet halted when the door swung open, revealing Jake who seemed to be at ease.

The two of you stood there, staring at each other. For a minute, no one said a word but Jake looked at you and then smiled.

“What did you do?” you asked, catching your breath.

“Everything’s settled now,” Jake simply said. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m not worried about myself, people are already calling me names Jake, I’m worried about you,” you pointed out. “What about your reputation? Your candidacy for valedictorian?”

“And let you take all the blame again? It’s fair that I’ll be punished too.”

“I don’t need you to that for me Jake, I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore —”

“It’s my fault in the first place why we’re here,” Jake owns up. “It’s right that I receive disciplinary action from it.”

“No —”

“It’s okay, it’s fair,” he assured. “You’re not going to be alone in this one. I won’t let you.”

At that moment, Jake slowly walked towards you who stood there frozen. You don’t know why but the moment Jake’s a step closer to you, you could only wrap your arms around him, face hiding against his chest as he embraces you warmly.

Even after everything that happened between the two of you, you feel like it felt right to be in Jake’s touch. You missed him so damn much.

“I’m sorry.” you could only say.

“Don’t say that, I should be the one apologizing,” Jake insisted but that only made you hide in his touch.

“What will happen to you?”

“They only gave me warning,” Jake heaves out a breath. “They’re looking for the photo leaker, and they might receive a bigger punishment for taking photos without consent and ruining Decelis’ image — Mr. Choi thinks that we were just kissing inside the club room.”

Then you realized, the angle of the photo made it look like you two aren’t doing something indecent, just a light makeout. You don’t know if you’ll be relieved hearing those words.

“You okay?’ he asked you, hands on your back as he lightly rubs it.

“Yeah,” you only nod.

There should be a relief in you. Everything’s all settled now. Jake only received a fair warning. He wasn’t suspended and owned up to everything. He took the blame but you still feel anxious, you couldn’t help but worry that there’s more to come.

“Are you sure?” Jake asked once again.

“Of course,” you nodded once again.

“Do you want to get away from here?” he asked, that’s when you look at him.

“Can we?”

And the only thing Jake did was grab your hand, squeezing it tightly before giving you an assuring smile.

You two found yourself at the same spot. It felt different going there during the afternoon. But the gentle breeze of spring dissolves completely the afternoon sun. Jake had parked the car on the side of the road. Noise of cicadas and rustling leaves gave nothing but quiet comfort.

Sitting by the hood of the car, the two of you munched on the burgers that you two bought through a drive-thru. Eating in silence as no one has the courage to bring up the elephant in the room.

You only stared at a huge city that almost became a solace for you for the past few years that you’ve been studying in Decelis. It felt vaguely weird to stare at it during the day. But you come to realise that in a few months, you’ll be deciding whether to go back to your hometown and work there or maybe stay in the city, opening another opportunity for you.

“Looking at the city,” you mumbled quietly. “I realized that we’re just small — no, just a tiny part of a huge place. That there’s a thousand strangers there who don’t know us.”

Then, it crossed your mind all the things that happened to you for the past few days. Making you bitterly laugh as you take a sip on your drink.

“In the end, we’ll graduate in Decelis and everything that happened will just be a memory for everyone.” you added, but there’s a deep sigh escaping on your lips. “I know that but right now, it’s so shitty. It’s like suddenly, my dignity is gone — I only slept with eight guys throughout college! And three of them don't even study in Decelis!”

Jake didn’t say a word. He only gazed at you as you munched on your burger angrily, smiling softly at your cute expression.

“But you know what? I’m just convincing myself that in the end, these people don’t know me at all, and they can talk shit about me all they want, spread lies and false information, I don’t care about it anymore. At least I don’t badmouth other people the moment gossip spreads inside the campus.”

Jake kept quiet. Watching you take a sip on your drink before taking a bite on your fries. Jake’s stare remained at you for a moment. Hearing nothing but the faint beating of his heart against the breeze of the night, Jake knew that you have a lot of resentment in your heart. And he could feel nothing but guilt with it.

Even if he had owed up the rumors and only received a warning, he knows that it wasn’t enough for you to forgive him. Jake looks at his half-bitten burger before glancing back at you.

“I’m sorry,” Jake started. “I’m sorry for causing harm to you, I shouldn’t have done it. And I’m sorry for lashing it out to you because the truth is, I was scared too.”

You remained glued to the view, but hearing that Jake was scared? That surprised you. It shocked you to hear that Jake, the person who you always considered as stoic and rational, was scared of something.

“I thought, I don’t care about my title. That corny piece of title that only brings weight to my shoulders.” Jake spat, frustrated by the thought. “It’s not my fault that I’m like this, and it had me wondering, what would happen if they placed the title to the wrong person? Someone who isn’t who they think he is?”

Then, he lets out a bitter laugh. “What we did inside the club room was an impulsive idea. When we got caught, I was scared. I was afraid of disappointing people, and I realized I’m not going to let everything I’ve done become a waste just because of an impulsive idea.”

“Then I heard from Yunjin and Aera, that you took more damage than me. They were right, the whole day there weren’t any disgusting remarks about me — but you, you’re hearing worse and I pushed you away. I hurt you, I said words out of anger and told you I didn't care about you.”

“And I fucked up, I’m sorry I fucked up. You don’t have to accept my apology y/n but I’m sorry, I care for you — I don’t see you as my fuck buddy, you’re more than that and you know that. I just want to let you know that I didn’t mean every word that I’ve said back then.”

“Is that why you confessed to Mr. Choi? Because you feel guilty of what happened? Did it ease your conscience when you did it?” you argued.

“I did it because it’s the right thing to do,” Jake argued. “It’s my fault we’re here and I’m going to owe up to it, I didn’t do it just to clear my conscience.”

You only laugh at his words, “wow, that’s so rational of you. You really are the golden boy, you even managed to save your image. Lucky you.”

Then, quietly you glanced at him. "You owning up to the rumors doesn’t change anything Jake. I’ll still be called a slut but this time with evidence, so I don’t know why you went through all that trouble when the damage has been done.”

“I don’t want you to get involved today, that’s why I told Mr. Choi, it was my idea,” Jake explained. “I don’t want your latin honors to be stripped away from you.”

“And in exchange, you let go of yours, Jake I don’t need you to do that,” you protested.

“I know you don’t need to, but I want to,” Jake insisted. “Because you deserve it, you deserve to go up on stage and receive a medal. You’re the golden girl and you’re going to prove those who wronged you that you deserve that title.”

You didn’t say a word, you only stared at Jake who only gave you a small smile. Cold wind passed by the two of you as you remained quiet because of Jake’s words. With everything that happened, you have completely lost the title. You don’t see yourself worthy of it and so does everyone.

“You really think so?” you asked.

“You deserve it more than me,” Jake genuinely said.

You wanted to cry, but all of your tears have dried up. So you gave him a bitter smile which made Jake stretch out his arms, and a small smile which you knew, so you scooted over him who only wrapped his arms around you. That’s when you felt at ease once again. Heart tired yet comforted when Jake’s warmth touches your skin.

“You’re more than just the golden girl y/n, you’re everything, remember that,” Jake breathes once again.

“It’s hard to think of it when everyone doesn’t see you in that way anymore,” you let out a deep sigh.

“They’re just jealous of you,” Jake lightly teased, and that made you laugh.

“That’s right, they’re just probably jealous of me,” you lightly smiled. “In the end, I still have the title, my GPA's still higher than them. — and I’m just going to assume that those who talked shit most about me are virgins and guys with small dicks.”

That’s when Jake let out a laugh, making you laugh as you nuzzled more in his shoulders.

“That’s a crazy thing to say.”

“We’ll never know if it’s true or not,” you smiled. “Those guys who bragged sleeping with me, should be lucky because if I’m so petty, I would’ve shared a list and rated their dick and size performance.”

Jake hums, “I wonder what’s my rate in there.”

“Ten out of ten, you weren’t called the golden boy for nothing,” you sarcastically replied.

Both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You could only feel Jake’s cheeks pressing against your head as silence hovered the two of you. A silent truce between the two of you was made. Both knew that there’s no point of arguing anymore since people will talk shit no matter what.

“Do you think, if we don’t have our title, people wouldn’t bat an eye on what we did?” you asked out of blue.

Jake only hums, his hand patting your shoulders in soft beats. “People still talk.”

For a moment, you were quiet, then a frown formed on your lips. “A lot of students did it at the lover’s garden, but I don’t hear them dropping names.”

“Maybe it really has something to do with our reputation.” Jake concluded.

“I wonder what would happen if we told them the actual truth,” you blurted out.

“Let’s not go there, I still want to graduate.”

And a chuckle escapes your lips. “So do I.”

“Maybe in five years or more, during homecomings. That’ll cause a stir.” Jake laughs, making you chuckle. “In the end, it’ll be just a small memory of our college life — but hey, at least we had a core memory.”

You two fall under silence once again. Enjoying the peaceful tranquility as slowly, the sun deepened and the city slowly started to fall to its golden hour. You could never be not in awe with the view, and you were glad that Jake brought you here. An escape from everything, somewhere in the middle of a small road, you suddenly remember the first time he brought you there.

“You know, this isn’t the right timing, but do you remember that time you brought me here the first time?” That's when you separated from his touch, looking at him with an innocent look.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I was really down for sex that time,” you laughed. “I was curious what car sex would be like.”

For a minute, you two were quiet before Jake could only let out a soft chuckle as he said “Get inside, backseat.”

Both of you jumped out of the hood of the car. Heart racing as you open the backseat, watching Jake open the car’s engine first, turning on the air conditioner before shuffling towards the backseat.

Eager, you two immediately crash each other’s lips onto another. Teeth clashing, sloppy, and breath-stealing as Jake’s hand’s grab your waist and push you to lay down, head resting on the car's window as he continues to makeout with you.

Hastily, you fumbled the belt of his slacks, pulling it down along with his boxers so that his cock sprang free from its strain. A soft gasp escaped his lips as you started stroking it fast and tight. You missed this. You missed his touch and the way he pounds inside you, you can already feel your core getting wet by the thought that you’ll be fucked by Jake again.

The two continued making out inside the car. Tasting each other's lips like you two were starved for years, it was rush and eager. The temperature started to rise, fogging the window as you two were too lost to care if any car might pass by and witness the obscenity inside the car.

“To think we’re still wearing our school uniforms,” Jake mumbled between your kisses. His hands finding its way on your blouse, unbuttoning it hastily to reveal your pink bra which hugs your breast perfectly.

“I guess this is the real scandal for us,” you teased before lightly grazing the tip of his cock on your clothed pussy. Soft moans escaped on each other’s lips as Jake couldn’t help but to rut against your cunt.

“I can’t wait anymore —”

“Me too, just fuck me Jake.”

Quick and hasty, Jake helped you slide down your panties until it hangs on your left ankle. One leg lifted on his shoulder while the other one was sprawled on the floor.

It was cramped and small but your mind was now in haze. Jake was eager as he pushed his shaft inside you, your cunt pulsing on its bulbous head, as you forget how big his dick was, making you deeply gasp. You moaned loudly when Jake began thrusting inside you that the sudden pleasure left you choking on your breath. Mouth wide as you gasp for air — until Jake instinctively wrapped his hands around your neck, making you roll your eyes in pleasure.

The car started creaking against the ground. Windows fogging up as your hand clasped on the windows while Jake continued pounding inside you. Bodies were starting to sweat, wetting and creasing your uniforms but the ministry didn’t stop. You two wanted to make up for the lost time, the pleasure becoming too intense that only cursed words and breathy sounds escape on each other’s lips.

“Shit —” Jake cursed as he raises your hips and slams his cock at a new angle, earning a whimpering moan from you. “So good, all mine — want to make you mine.”

You gasp for air as those words haze your mind. “Jake —”

“You don’t know how crazy you drive me y/n, shit —” Jake started blubbering words. Messy, word vomits as he continues pounding inside you.

“You can’t just say that — ugh, hngh! while railing me —” you grabbed his tie, tugging him closer until he’s an inch close to your face. “It's not fair!”

Jake realized the words escaped his lips, he knew it was wrong and whatever you two have is still blurry. “Then forget it —”

“No, fuck you! Is this real?” you snarled at him. “Jake, tell me, is this real?”

“I’m serious,” Jake answered immediately, and your eyes only widened.

“Jake —”

“I’m fucking serious —” he presses his forehead on yours, thrusts turning into slow, sensual grinding, something that made you even fell his hard cock penetrate your walls full. “At some point, we’ve broked our setup the moment you we were together but didn’t fuck.”

“But pretended like we’re nothing —”

“And it kills me every damn time. You don’t know how it pains me to ignore you, to not cross boundaries but fuck — I want us to be something else aside from this set-up.”

You were stunned. You never thought that Jake would confess. You know that there were a lot of times were the lines were blurred, there were moments that were too intimate to be considered as something fuck buddies would do.

And you like every bit of it. You know that emotional attachment is prohibited, it’ll ruin your professional, monogamous set-up that’s only for the sake of pleasuring each other.

But you’re ruined for Jake enough to not care about the rules. After everything that happened between the two of you, the least you could have was having him by your side, and it seems like the gods are in your favor because Jake is also in the same whirlwind as you are.

“I like you too Jake,” you confessed to him. “The truth is I didn’t want to talk to you because I was scared of my feelings. I like you enough that I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore.”

“Fuck — and that had me spiraling, you’re ruining me you know?” and with that, Jake plants a kiss on your lips.

“What happened to being rational?”

“All gone the moment you let me fuck you,” a sharp thrust stabs your pussy, earning a moan from you as you look at Jake who only smiled at you. “All I need is your words baby, and you’ll be mine.”

“Take me Jake,” you told him. “Want to be yours.”

Jake moves his hips once again. Grabbing your other legs as he folds it onto your chest, slipping out his cock and slamming it with one sharp thrust, earning a loud moan from you.

He continued pounding on you harshly. The new angle hitting your sensitive spot which made you cry further in pleasure. Jake grunts as he stabs your tight, warm walls with his huge length nonstop. Pride swelling inside him as your juices started to coat his dick.

“Fuck!” you mewled, stretching out the word as you felt your stomach knotting in a pit.

“You’re gonna cum now? Cream my cock baby, show me who owns this pussy,” Jake ordered as he continued thrusting inside you.

The car creaked more aggressively as you reached your orgasm, crying loudly as Jake followed after. Groaning loudly as warm cum painted your walls white. He brings down your legs after a few seconds, lightly massaging your thighs as he hovers over you and peppered your face with kisses.

“You did good, baby,” Jake whispered to you, kissing you on the lips softly while you only whined as he pulled out from your pussy.

“We’re not doing this ever again,” you told him, and that made him stop, surprised by your words. “It’s too cramped! I’d rather be in bed, at least we’re comfy there.”

It took a minute for Jake to sink what you said before laughing and kissing your temples. “Ever thought of trying it in the kitchen? Maybe you’ll let me eat you —”

“Not going to happen,” you gritted your teeth. “God, were still acting like we’re fuck buddies.”

“At least we can finally act as lovers now,” Jake teasingly said before hovering you once again for a deep kiss. Full of love and yearning for you.

Epilogue.

The huge convention hall was filled with thousands of graduating students. Wearing their best formal dresses and suits, the atmosphere was lively and bolstering with noise and excitement.

It was the annual graduation night. The opening for the university’s graduation season. Every graduating student was invited to celebrate the end of their college life — and the beginning of another chapter in their life. It was their last night to socialize and meet new people.

You entered the hall clad in a long maroon dress that gives your body a silhouette along with a pearl set from your mother. But that wasn’t the reason all heads turned to you.

Next to you was Jake, heavenly to look at with his black button-up, sleeves folded revealing his strong arms, right hand holding your left hand. He stood there proud with his clean brush-up hair, suiting his sharp godlike face along with his black-rimmed glasses.

After you two decided to be together, your relationship remained a secret since you two don’t want to add fuel to the fire even though you two don’t care about each other’s damaged reputation anymore. You two remained professional inside the campus, no glances or subtle touches, which made everyone assume that the photo is just a hoax since you and Jake kept quiet about it.

The rumors disappeared after a few weeks. You heard that the photo owner got suspended due to some violations. Whatever Jake negotiated with Mr. Choi worked in your favor. People still talk, but you’ve learned to prioritize your peace and just let people wander.

Yet, you were still a petty girl inside. So you two dropped the bomb during the graduation night by attending it with Jake, close like lovers and it made everyone wonder — what’s the deal between the two of you? Were you two together because you two hold the same title? Or were the rumors actually true?

As their eyes remained at you two, you could only smile as you focused on the photographer’s words, telling you to pose like lovers which only made you smirk before resting your head on Jake who instinctively placed his hands on your waist while the two of you posed for the camera. Jake heed no attention to the strangers around, all he thinks is that tonight is a night of celebration with you and his close friends.

All eyes remained at you two as you walked towards your reserved table where Jake’s close friends and roommates were seated, watching the scene unfold earlier.

“You guys know how to make an entrance,” Jay teased, arms resting on Aera’s chair who’s smiling ear to ear. “You guys beat Heeseung and Jiwon in stealing tonight’s attention.”

“A few months ago, you two got caught into some scandal, now you decided to attend the night together? You guys are just stirring the rumor again,” Heeseung obliviously laughed, the whole table was laughing but Jake and you only glanced at his roommates who were holding back their laugh.

“Let people wander,” you only smiled.

While waiting for the program to start, you only socialized within the table. Listening to their stories and jokes, you find yourself laughing at the embarrassing things they share, especially when it involves your boyfriend who only looks away with a small smile on his face. His hands rested lightly on your thigh while both your hands circled around it. Fidgeting with the rings on it, giving you a sense of comfort on it.

“Just in time, you two are here!” the two of you turned around to see Yunah, the new editor-in-chief of Decelis Publications, approaching your table. “We’re interviewing graduating students for our post, and of course, we couldn’t miss interviewing you two.”

Jake glanced at you who only smiled at the girl. “Sure, we don’t mind.”

You two follow Yunah at a corner where it wasn’t that crowded, she explains how it’ll be done, giving you two one question: what’s the one thing that you’ll miss in Decelis?

“The student aid,” Jake answered without any hesitation. “They helped me during my freshman year, and I’ve been with them from the start. I hope that the new set of officers will continue the act of helping each other and becoming a support system to our students.”

Yunah only smiled at them, “as expected from the president of the organization, how about you ms. y/n?”

“Same with me! I’ll miss helping students and its communal unity, the organization is a safe space and I hope it continues to do so, especially to incoming freshmen.” you explained.

“That’s such a wonderful answer from both of you. It’s no wonder that the students this year were at ease. Both of you were in charge of the organization,” Yunah shared, and that thought eases your heart.

“It’s not just us, but it’s the whole organization who made an effort,” Jake rebutted, and you only nodded in agreement.

Yunah only smiled as she jots down the answer. “Okay, I have a bonus question just only for the two of you. Since you two currently hold the title of the ‘golden boy’ and ‘golden girl,’ who are you eyeing to pass the title to?”

But both you and Jake only looked at each other, a meaningful smile before glancing back at Yunah who’s waiting for your answer.

“We don’t know honestly,” you laughed. “You have to earn it, and it’s not something we can pass to someone. But to whoever will be the next after us, I hope they wear it with confidence.”

“And, don’t let it be a weight that you’ll have to carry. They gave it to you because they know you deserve it, just like what y/n said, wear it with confidence.” Jake added.

“Woah, no wonder the title was given to the two of you,” Yunah said. “Thank you for the interview, but between you two and me, are you two together?” “We’ll keep that one a secret.” you winked.

The program started a few minutes later. A few messages from the directors and administrators of the university, inducing a warm applause from the students. It was followed by the formal proclamation of the awards and student leaders while food was served to every table.

One by one, the people at your table would go up and receive their honors. You could only smile as they receive their achievements with a smile. Soon, the table was filled with certificates and glass trophies.

“And for this year’s batch valedictorian,” the director announced. You only looked at Jake as your hands found his, fingers intertwining as a stranger’s name was called by the director. A pity smile was all you can give but Jake squeezes your hands.

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled, knowing that it wasn’t his goal. “I’m still the valedictorian of the engineering department.”

You only laughed at his comment, watching him tug your clasped hands near his heart. “Plus, you're mine now, and I think that's a bigger win than being the batch’s valedictorian.”

A smile and blush on your face was all he could see before you looked away. “I hate you and your flowery words Jake Sim.”

“I love you too,” he whispered to your ears, making you smile before stealing a kiss on his cheeks, taking it as an opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. Feeling at ease as you listen to the student’s speech.

“Hey, do you wanna know when I knew that I had fallen for you?” Jake asked out of blue.

You hummed for a second, curiosity killing you. “Shoot.”

“It was when I saw you talking to Yunjin and Aera by the dining table,” Jake answered. “I remembered how you said your friends aren’t around, and seeing you laughing with them, I don’t know, it feels like you fit with them.”

You felt your heart swelling with joy as you looked up at Jake who only had his boyish smile.

“Jake, that was so sweet — I can’t believe you would think of that,” you smiled, eyes gleaming bright as your free hand found its way to Jake’s nape, brushing his hair delicately. “Wanna know mine?”

“Go on,” he grins.

“When we had sex at the club room,” you straightforwardly said, watching Jake’s eyes widen and smile turning into a thin line.

“Kidding! It was when you didn’t want to have sex with me because I was vulnerable,” you explained, the teasing smile on your face shifted into a genuine one. “It made me realise that there are guys who still respect me even if I'm okay with it.”

Jake could only scoff in disbelief before pinching your cheeks, making you whine as he grins teasingly. “So somewhere in our setup we really broke the rules.”

“And I’m glad we did,” you stated, tapping the end of his nose. “And I’m kinda glad you confessed first because I’ll most likely bring my feelings for you to my grave.”

“It was a swirl of the moment!” Jake rebutted, and it only made you laugh. “What happened to ‘it’s proven that college couples break up after graduation?’” you reminded.

And before he could answer, Jake steals a short kiss on your lips, surprising you as the smirk on his lips formed. “We’ll prove it wrong then.”

3K notes · View notes

ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home.

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city.

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it.

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while?

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and—

“Babe—”

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays.

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?”

“You keep talking over me, so I really—”

“You don’t get to babe me right now!”

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is.

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful.

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice.

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend.

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back.

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!”

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?”

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse?

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.”

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse.

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.”

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional.

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?”

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.”

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?”

“Yes,” you nod.

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—”

“I hate beer.”

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.”

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!”

This time he says your name, and you shake your head.

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head.

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.”

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct.

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock.

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.”

Good one, Parker.

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide.

“The one and only,” he nods.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.”

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it.

“I’m not stupid,” you say.

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.”

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?”

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.”

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?”

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.”

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.”

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.”

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.”

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say.

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.”

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.”

“I think I can let it slide.”

“Good.”

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company.

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.”

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds.

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!”

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero.

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?”

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to.

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?”

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.”

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.”

“And unhappy, it sounds like.”

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…”

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.”

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.”

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is?

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?”

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?”

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.”

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?”

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.”

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover.

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?”

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.”

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.”

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going.

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario.

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees.

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down.

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope.

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he?

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack.

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know.

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground.

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is.

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role.

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it.

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret.

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it.

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly.

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.”

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.”

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.”

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses.

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.”

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says.

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.”

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.”

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you.

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky.

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you.

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life.

Deal. Anything to get you an A

lol

asshole

Never

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place:

I’ll try just for you

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?)

Night, girl wonder

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ssunsak · 2 months ago

Note

Could you write frat! Peter being obsessed with how hot reader is? Like always horny 24/7

frat peter is gonna get a lot of love in my wip, don't worry 💝

Peter’s got a big mouth and he loves to use it.

Especially when it comes to declaring his love.

“So pretty, did you know that?”

It was the third time today he’s found himself placing biting kisses down your neck.

“You might have told me once or-” you take in a shaky breath as Peter nibbles at your collarbone, “twice.”

“What a shame. It should be the only words you ever hear.”

“You do it close enough.”

He smirks into your skin, it leaves a trail of goosebumps.

You’d never have thought that the slightly out of place, quiet cute guy in the frat would be so greedy for your skin. You caught his eye and he needed to know everything about you at that moment.

“You’re so needy, parker.”

He pulled back and pinched at your bare hip, you tried to slide away but he pulled you closer.

“It’s peter to you.”

You sigh happily, “alright, peter, you’re so needy.” You emphasize his name, he responds by clicking his tongue.

“Actually, I think it’s babe, or my personal favorite, god.”

You snort, “god?”

“Oh god! Oh god, oh my god! Babe, you feel so good, you make me sooo wet-” he gets cut off by you cupping a hand over his mouth, “if you want to keep hearing it you better shut up.”

“I can’t help it, you just make so..” he trails off, his eyes working you over. He’s had you all to himself the entire day, and it’s still not enough.

You make him feel so full of love and admiration the only way he can try to tell you is with his actions.

Peter can’t hold it in, he hovers over you and starts kissing down your neck.

“You look so gorgeous.”

Your hand grips his curls.

“And taste so so good,”

“Flattery will get you-”

“Shh… let me show you how good you make me feel.”

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ssunsak · 2 months ago

Text

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less.

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package.

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you.

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive.

Either way, it’d be too much right now.

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask.

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices.

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip.

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping.

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for.

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway.

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed.

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle.

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China.

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate.

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it.

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head.

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater.

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth.

You study the waxen floor tiles intently.

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder.

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good.

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case.

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm.

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before.

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him.

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts.

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back.

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you.

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips.

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say.

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded.

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear.

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks.

It’s sort of a joke.

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth.

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him.

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast.

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers.

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone.

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully.

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful.

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly.

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes.

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets.

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night.

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone.

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there.

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through.

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock.

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer.

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better.

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating.

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly.

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it.

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification.

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction.

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times.

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers.

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning.

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing.

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy.

“Has he knocked on your door?”

Testosterone.

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice.

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away.

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile.

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath.

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude.

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious.

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak.

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you.

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along.

“What’s not fair?”

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time.

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try.

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again.

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease.

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years.

There’s nothing to be found.

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated.

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh.

You laugh nervously.

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth.

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away.

Because he’s a good boyfriend.

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are.

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?”

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away.

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened.

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome.

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere.

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips.

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words.

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle.

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours.

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh.

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders.

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan.

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him.

“I did it,” you gloat.

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition.

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle.

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually.

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food.

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with.

Spencer murmurs your name like a question. It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response.

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back.

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt.

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing.

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied.

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually.

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact.

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear.

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow.

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it.

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands.

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier.

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath.

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown.

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second.

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things.

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together.

You’re clingy.

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable.

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands.

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull.

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed.

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm.

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin.

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back.

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown.

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes.

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting.

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow.

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

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