staranghae

[staranghae]

writing fanfiction isn't that hard if you know basic grammar & book structure so i don't see why you have to use ai for it.. it's insulting to writers who actually spend months perfecting their art, and it's shameful to pass it off as your own work when you're just... cheating!!! that's cheating!!!

[staranghae]

i took an elective called 'the art of storytelling' so that i'd get better at writing fic. the dedication i have for this app is insane.

[staranghae]

LHS. ᝰ is writing — "it's completely normal to like your wife you know?"

vol 8. — after the distressing breakup of your five years long relationship you finally decided to settle down and marry the infamous disciplined family friend and the heir of Lee Corporation. What you did not expect was a shy tall guy who stammered three times while saying one sentence and looked at you with stars in his eyes.

𖧧 ָ࣪ 𖧵ֹֺֽ໋໋݊ arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff

note: don't let the synopsis fool you

ʚĭɞ if you liked this don't forget to check out my other works in library

Your friends expected it. Your parents braced for it. But when your long-term boyfriend of nearly five years packed his bags, left your shared apartment, and walked out of your life with nothing but a muttered apology and a shadow of regret in his voice, you didn’t shed a single tear.

Instead, you stood by the door, fingers curled around your sleeves, heart thudding like a dull drum inside your ribs as you watched him go. The soft click of the latch felt louder than thunder. And yet, the silence that followed was even louder.

That was the worst part.

Not the betrayal. Not the abandonment. Not even the mess of memories he left behind, the cracked photo frame he bought you in second year, the shared playlist you couldn’t bring yourself to delete, the faint scent of his cologne in your closet.

No. The worst part was how quiet you became afterward.

You, who once painted the world with laughter, you, who danced barefoot in the rain and burned cupcakes on purpose just to see how far disaster could stretch, you, who used to fill empty rooms with your presence before even speaking.

You disappeared slowly. Like fog rolling into the ocean.

It took months before you left your childhood room again. You’d returned home after graduation, saying it was temporary. That you needed to "rethink things.” Your parents didn’t push. Not when they saw the dark circles under your eyes or the way you flinched when the phone rang. You still hadn’t told them the full story. You couldn’t. How do you explain to your mother that the man you were ready to marry simply changed his mind? That he said you were “too much” one day and “not enough” the next?

That he left without a proper reason. Just a goodbye.

You had just curled up with a blanket and an old journal when your mother knocked on your door.

“Y/n-ah,” she called softly. “Come downstairs.”

You didn’t move. “Why?”

“There’s someone we want you to meet.”

You let out a quiet sigh. “Not today.”

“It’s important.”

You sat up slowly, fingers tracing the corner of your blanket. “Who is it?”

“Lee Heeseung.”

Your breath caught.

The name felt familiar in a distant, foggy kind of way, like a song you once heard in the background of someone else’s life.

Heeseung. The boy with perfect grades, perfect posture, perfect life. The son of your father’s business friend. You remembered vague stories about him growing up, the golden heir. Always abroad. Always busy.

Why would he be here now?

Before you could ask, your mother added, “Just for a few minutes.” And for some reason, you listened.

You expected a stiff man in a starched shirt, radiating cold ambition and forced smiles. What you didn’t expect was a man standing awkwardly in your living room, holding a mug of tea like it was a fragile artifact, and looking more nervous than you felt.

He turned when you walked in and paused. You saw the subtle shift in his breathing pattern.

His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, time bent around the space between you. You noticed the way his gaze softened, then darted away quickly, almost embarrassed. The tips of his ears flushed faintly pink.

You blinked. Interesting.

He bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

You gave a polite nod, sitting across from him. “You too.”

You didn’t speak much after that. Your parents carried the conversation, polite chatter about the market, mutual friends, old memories. Heeseung answered like a proper gentleman, straight laced and careful with his words. You watched him more than you listened. There was something oddly... stiff about him. Like he hadn’t been in a room with a stranger in years.

He caught you watching once and looked away quickly, clearing his throat leaving a warmth pooling in your stomach as you directed your eyes at your palms resting on your stomach.

They dropped the bomb after dinner. An Arranged marriage. With Lee Heeseung, the heir and future CEO of Lee Corporation.

“Just think about it,” your father had said, his tone soft, his eyes more so. There was hope in them, but it was cautious, almost tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure whether it deserved to be there. Next to him, your mother looked everywhere but at you. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger as if it were a question she couldn’t answer.

And across from you, Heeseung sat.

Tall. Composed. The collar of his button-down crisp, the sleeves of his dark blazer pushed back just enough to show a silver watch that gleamed under the dining room light.

He didn’t look surprised.

He didn’t look anything.

Only when he spoke did something shift “You don’t have to decide now,” he said gently, voice as even as his expression. “We can meet a few more times. Talk. See if it’s something you’re open to.”

You stared at him.

Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it like he already knew how this story ended. Like he’d already accepted whatever answer you might give, even if it was a no. He didn’t plead. He didn’t push. He wasn’t playing the role of the desperate suitor or the charming stranger trying to win your favor.

If anything, he seemed… resigned.

And you?

You were so damn tired.

Tired of grieving a love that had left you in pieces. Tired of pretending you were still the same girl who once believed in fairytales. Tired of hearing your friends get engaged, move abroad, fall in love again while your life stood still, wrapped in a fog you couldn't shake off.

So you nodded. Not because it made sense. Not because it felt right. But because, in that moment, anything was better than standing still.

The wedding was simple.

Elegant in the way a gentle breeze was elegant, soft, intentional, and fleeting. There were no loud colors, no over-the-top displays of affection, no extravagant celebrations. Just muted tones of white and beige draping every corner of the small private hall. Golden hour light filtered in through sheer curtains, making everything seem like a daydream. A few strings of fairy lights hung above your heads like stars that had descended for just this moment. The music was soft, almost distant, like a memory trying not to disturb anyone.

Only family and a few close friends were invited. That was the way you both preferred it — quiet, contained. No crowd to force a smile in front of. No strangers to pretend for.

You stood at the entrance, your hand gently clutching the silk of your ivory dress. It clung to your frame delicately, elegant in its simplicity. Your hair was pulled back, and gold earrings brushed against your neck every time you moved. They had once belonged to your mother.

And across the aisle, waiting....was him.

Heeseung.

He wore a slate grey suit that fit him too well, paired with a navy tie that brought out the deeper shades in his usually unreadable eyes. His posture was rigid, but not from arrogance. From nerves. His fingers twitched at his sides. His lips parted slightly when he saw you.

And he didn’t stop staring.

You walked toward him slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart thudded against your chest like it didn’t remember this wasn’t a love marriage. This wasn’t the fairytale. It was an arrangement. Something practical.

But then why did he look at you like that?

As though something about you had caught him off guard.

His gaze didn’t lower or flicker away, even when you stood right before him. Even when the officiant cleared his throat and began the short ceremonial script. Even when you reached out your hand. His hand met yours with a tremble.

Just a flicker. Barely there. But you felt it. Both of you felt it actually.

When the rings were exchanged and the final blessing was offered, the photographer gestured gently, asking for a hug for the photos. A staged embrace, a brief moment of closeness for the sake of memory.

You hesitated, and so did he. But you stepped forward anyway, lifting your arms with quiet grace and sliding them around his waist. His body stiffened instantly under your touch, like he hadn’t prepared himself to be held. Like he didn’t think you would do it.

But then slowly you felt him breathe. His shoulders softened.

His arms came up, unsure, before settling loosely around your back. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t passionate. But it wasn’t cold either. It felt… human. And when you pulled away, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you saw it.

The faintest blush spreading softly across his cheekbones, like the sun peeking over the edge of dawn.

You bit your lip, amused. A giggle slipped out before you could stop it. It was light, airy, and very real. The kind of laugh you hadn’t heard from yourself in a long time. Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting it. But then, something shifted in his expression. Not quite a smile but something close. His lips twitched at the corners, and he looked down, embarrassed.

You didn’t know why, but your chest warmed.

The first night in your shared apartment was quiet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. A silence that allowed space to exist between two people without demanding they fill it. You both stood in the living room for a moment, bags still at your feet, before silently choosing opposite doors. You unpacked in your rooms. No drama. No awkward hovering.

Well you didn’t expect to be comfortable anytime soon.

But it wasn’t as strange as you thought it would be.

Heeseung knocked softly after a while, standing at your doorway like he didn’t want to intrude. “Are you hungry?” he asked, voice tentative.

“I was thinking of making something,” you replied, brushing off your hands from folding clothes. “Do you want to help?”

He seemed surprised. “I—I mean, I can. If you don’t mind.”

You didn’t.

So you both ended up in the kitchen.

It wasn’t big, but it was clean. Minimalist, like the rest of the apartment. The kind of space that hadn’t yet been lived in. You gave him the task of slicing the vegetables while you heated the oil. It was an ordinary moment. Too ordinary. But he tried his best to keep up. He worked in silence, furrowed brow, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

And then

“Ow.”

You turned immediately. “What happened?” He lifted his thumb sheepishly, where a thin line of red had appeared. “It’s not bad.”

A spurge of panick rose as you stammered to find anything you can, fortunately heeseung had his emergency bix ready for moments like this. You grabbed a tissue and dabbed it with alcohol immediately, clicking your tongue. “You’re hopeless,” you muttered, gently pressing it to the cut.

He winced.

“You ever held a knife before?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked genuinely guilty. “Not often.”

That made you laugh almost. The corners of your mouth twitched, but you suppressed it. Barely.

Dinner turned out decent. Slightly over-salted, but edible. You both sat at the table across from each other, clinking spoons occasionally. Heeseung ate slowly, carefully, complimenting the food like he was afraid of insulting you otherwise. When the dishes were cleared and the clock ticked past ten, you curled up on the living room couch with a light blanket, journal in your lap. Random dates, random events, random thoughts. Writing helped. It always had. It made you feel like your thoughts were being listened to.

Heeseung settled into the chair across from you, laptop open, fingers dancing over the keyboard. A pair of glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, making him look softer, more academic than corporate. His brows furrowed again as he read something on the screen. You watched him for a moment. The way he adjusted his posture every few minutes. The way he chewed the inside of his cheek when something didn’t make sense. The way he pushed his glasses up with his knuckle.

He was handsome, yes. Way too much handsome from what you've seen till now.

But he was also strange.

Like a puzzle you didn’t know you were supposed to solve. You tore your gaze away and focused back on your journal until the question slipped out of your mouth.

“You always this serious?”

Heeseung paused mid keystroke. His eyes slowly flicked toward you, clearly startled. “Huh?” You leaned back, head tilting playfully. “Or are you just pretending to impress your very pretty wife?”

A beat of silence.

Then he blinked.

And blinked again.

His face flushed. Not pink. Red. An unmistakable crimson that painted his ears, cheeks, even the base of his neck.

You watched it spread with fascination.

He looked away quickly, clearly flustered. “I, uh—I’m not pretending.”

You grinned, unable to help it. Gotcha

And then you laughed. Finally

Not the soft, polite kind. But a laugh that shook your shoulders. A laugh that sounded far too much like your old self. One that tasted like freedom. Like lightness.

Heeseung stared at you wide eyed, confused, but not unhappy. And in that moment, something inside you cracked open.

Not completely.

But enough to let a little light in.

Enough to remember that this whatever this was didn’t have to be cold or lonely. Maybe it could be… different.

Maybe. Just maybe.

After dinner you followed him, heart awkward in your chest. “We’re married,” you said quietly.

He looked at you. Eyes crinkling a bit “We are.”

You bit your lip. “How does it feel?”

“Like I’m going to pass out.”

You laughed. So did he. And just like that, the room warmed.

You both fell asleep that night, not in each other’s arms, but in the same room. Two souls still cautious. But not strangers anymore. Somewhere between the silk sheets and the soft rustling of fabric, you felt his fingers brush yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away.

The days that followed weren’t perfect but they were real. You cooked breakfast. He cleaned the dishes. You danced alone in the living room. He watched, pretending not to smile.

You fought over the last slice of toast but he shared it anyway.

One evening, he returned early and found you on the balcony, feet up, journal in hand.

He stood there, watching you, quiet.

You glanced over. “You know, for someone who likes his space, you hover a lot.” He gave a small smile. “You’re easy to hover around.” Your heart thumped against chest your walls as you closed the journal.

Heeseung walked closer, placing a cup of tea beside you.

You turned to him, a silly expression playing on your lips “You know...I do notice how much you blush every time I touch you.”

He froze. “No I don’t.” You raised a brow. “You just did.”

His ears flamed. “I’m—That’s not—You’re very—” pretty. He stopped. “Never mind.”

You giggled. “You’re cute when you malfunction.” He groaned into his hands. “I’m regretting this marriage already.”

You reached over, gently flicking his forehead. “Liar.”

You were quiet. Not shy. Not submissive. Just... still. And Heeseung had thought, Perfect. No dramatics. No chaos. No endless talking that led nowhere. You seemed like someone who wouldn’t get in the way of his routine. Obedient. Low-maintenance. Easy to manage.

But stillness, he would later learn, was not the same as simplicity.

You weren’t “easy” in the way he first assumed. You were surviving. He just didn’t see it yet.

The first time you touched him, it was nothing. Really, it was nothing. Just a brief adjustment to the collar of his shirt before a family photo. The fabric was crooked, and you, dutiful, distant, fixed it with all the care of someone folding a stranger’s laundry.

But his throat closed.

And later that night, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he found himself staring at the spot your fingers had grazed. Like it had left a burn.

Heeseung loved that. He loved that he was starting to notice things.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous. The way your voice softened when talking to plants, like they were old friends. The way your eyes darted around the room when you were overwhelmed but trying not to show it. He hated how easily his heartbeat betrayed him.

Once, you fell asleep on the couch wearing his hoodie. He had walked into the room to ask if you wanted tea. Stopped. Stared.

And nearly had a cardiac arrest.

You looked smaller somehow, curled into the armrest, face turned into the fabric that used to smell like him. The hoodie dwarfed you, sleeves swallowed your hands, and you breathed so softly he thought you might disappear if he blinked.

He didn’t touch you. Didn’t dare. Just stood there and watched you sleep like an idiot, pretending it meant nothing that you’d chosen his hoodie over the dozens in your wardrobe. He told himself it was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Because one evening, you hummed while watering the plants near the window, barefoot in your pajamas, and something twisted painfully in his chest.

You looked… light.

Like whatever darkness you were dragging around had loosened for a second.

And he thought, She still has it. That light. It’s just buried.

But then someone flirted with you at a company party. Some friend of a friend with too many teeth and not enough respect. The guy leaned in too close when he spoke to you, smiling like he knew you, fingers brushing your elbow as he laughed.

And Heeseung saw red.

He was across the room, drink untouched, shoulders tense. The man’s hand hovered near your lower back, and Heeseung didn’t even remember moving, just that he was suddenly there, standing beside you, one hand on your waist, his tone calm but sharp enough to bleed.

“She’s taken.”

The man backed off. Quickly. You glanced up at him, startled. “I was handling it.” But inside you were going absolute nuts. THAT WAS SO FUCKING HOT WTF.

“I know,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t like watching.”

You fell in love with Lee Heeseung. You weren’t sure if it was real, if your brain was just weaving comfort into romance. But the way he looked at you made you feel real. Grounded. Heeseung didn’t flirt. He didn’t chase. But he remembered. He remembered the one time you said you hated sleeping with the door closed. He remembered your favourite scent was lavender, not rose like everyone assumed.

He remembered the time you offhandedly said you always wanted to stargaze, but no one ever took you.

And he remembered you. Even on the days when you couldn’t remember you.

You sat at the breakfast table, spooning cereal into your mouth, pretending not to notice how Heeseung kept glancing at you over the rim of his coffee mug. You were wearing his hoodie, not for sentiment, but because it was soft and smelled like cedarwood and something vaguely comforting.

He cleared his throat. Loudly.

You blinked at him. “Yes?”

He tensed. “What? Nothing.”

“You’ve been staring for five minutes.”

“I wasn’t—” He cut himself off. “You just have milk on your lip.”

You wiped your mouth while giggling “That’s your excuse today?”

He went red. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m imagining you blushing every time I breathe?"

He said nothing. Just took a long, slow sip of his coffee and looked away. You leaned your chin on your hand. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What is?”

“Liking your wife.”

He choked on his coffee. You handed him a napkin, laughing, and Heeseung groaned into his palm. “Why are you like this?”

You smiled. “Because you like it," and god.... poor Heeseung swore if his gorgeous wife doesn't stop terrorising him anytime soon.

The day began like any other. Soft sunlight filtered through the lace curtains as you flipped the page of your journal, pen poised above the paper. A list of dates stared back at you. Appointments, grocery items, a friend’s birthday next week. There were tiny corrections in the margins, crossed out reminders, swapped days and scribbles you didn’t remember making.

You blinked at them, brow furrowed.

You always kept your journal close. It wasn’t just a habit anymore, it was a lifeline. Your memory had been slipping, barely noticeable at first. A word forgotten. A date misremembered. But lately, the fog had thickened.

You tapped the pen against your palm, trying to recall what you’d written five minutes ago.

“Y/n?” Heeseung’s voice came from the hallway, sleepy and warm. He peeked into the room, his hair tousled from bed. His tie hung loose around his neck. “Did you see my cufflinks?”

You pointed to the dresser. Heeseung stepped in, brushing a kiss over your temple without a second thought. You smiled, heart tugging. His affection had changed. He’d become gentler, softer. He didn’t look at you like he was tolerating a contract anymore, he looked like he was slowly learning how to love.

And you… you were starting to believe in it.

“I’ll make us coffee,” you said, standing a little too fast.

The world tilted sharply and you didn’t even register the fall.

You woke up to beeping machines and Heeseung’s panicked voice floating somewhere near your ear. His hand gripped yours like a lifeline, tight and trembling.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, over and over. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Doctors ran tests. Your blood pressure, blood sugar was normal. Heart rate was stable. CT scan was clear. They told you it might’ve been a stress induced fainting spell. Nothing serious.

But it felt serious. You could see it in Heeseung’s eyes. The quiet way he watched you that night, tucking you into bed, fingers ghosting against your forehead. You felt it in your bones too. Something had shifted inside you. And it wasn’t just fatigue.

That night, as you lay beside him in bed, your voice broke the silence “I used to think love was something safe.” He turned his head to you, still half-awake, droopy eyes slowly meeting yours. “But it’s not,” you whispered. “Not always. Sometimes… it just leaves you.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything. But his fingers found yours beneath the covers and squeezed, tender.

“It left me once. Completely. And I’m scared if I ever feel it again, it’ll do the same.”

Your throat closed, you didn’t tell him you were in love with him. But your eyes did. They searched his, trembled with quiet confession, and Heeseung… oh, he was unraveling from the inside. He said nothing. He only gathered you into his arms and held you so tightly, so fiercely, that your breath caught.

And then he kissed your forehead like a promise.

Like he’d never leave.

The warmth didn’t last forever. A shadow crept in slowly, just as your memories began to slip through your fingers like grains of sand.

You fainted again three days later.

This time, it wasn’t dramatic or alarming in the way most people imagined fainting would be. There was no dizziness or shortness of breath. Just silence. Just a quiet, mundane moment, laundry on your lap, socks in your hand, sunlight spilling through the windows like everything was perfectly normal, and then…

Black.

A blink later, you were waking up to the sound of footsteps thundering down the hallway. Heeseung’s voice, frantic and cracking at the edges, shouted something unintelligible into his phone. There was desperation in his tone, something close to begging, and when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was his silhouette pacing like a man unraveling thread by thread.

You groaned faintly, and the sound jolted him. “Y/n!” The phone clattered to the floor as he dropped beside you, his knees hitting the hardwood. His hands hovered over your shoulders, afraid to shake you too hard, afraid to touch you too softly.

You tried to speak, but only a croaky sound came out.

“Jesus, don’t do that again,” he breathed, brushing a stray hair away from your face with trembling fingers. “You scared the hell out of me.” You blinked at him, mind still foggy, body weak. And then perhaps to deflect the weight in his gaze, perhaps to avoid your own rising dread, you smiled faintly and said,

“Maybe I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like they didn’t belong there. Heeseung stilled.

“Preg—what?!”

You blinked again, suddenly aware of what you’d just said. “I was joking—obviously—I mean, we haven’t even—oh my god—”

His entire face flushed crimson. He scrambled upright, running a hand through his hair like the heat on his cheeks could be shaken off. “Why would you even say that?!”

“I don’t know!” you blurted, still breathless. “I was just—I don’t know—it slipped out!”

“I—okay, well—” He turned away for a second, then turned back just as fast, blurting out, “Would you… want to?”

Silence.

You blinked again, a faint blush creeping on your cheeks this time “What?” you asked softly. He cleared his throat, swallowed, tried again. “I mean not now—not like this, I just–if we ever did...you know like if we were ready—would you want to have a kid with me?”

You just stared at him. Eyes round, heart skipping, stare that peeled you open from the inside and left every thought exposed.

He panicked. “Shit–I didn’t mean it like that. I just–God, I sound like a lunatic. I’m sorry—”

“No,” you interrupted, and your voice, though small, was steady now. “You don’t.”

Heeseung’s breath caught.

You reached forward, hand brushing over his where it hung awkwardly by his side. Slowly, you entwined your fingers, tugging gently until he let himself sit beside you on the couch. He didn’t speak, neither did you.

The silence felt soft this time, tender, warm in its own way.

“I see a future,” you murmured. “And you’re in it.”

He inhaled sharply, chest rising like he’d just been given permission to breathe again. His hand tightened around yours instinctively, and then without another word he pulled you into him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his around your waist. He held you like you were something fragile and precious. His chin dropped to your shoulder, and you felt his lips press into the crook of your neck, featherlight. Then the top of your head. Then again and again.

The crown of your skull. Your temple. Your hair. Tiny kisses, barely there, like he couldn’t help himself.

His hands moved up and down your back, long strokes, slow and careful like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. Like he wanted to trace your shape into his memory forever. You leaned into him, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, listening to the way his heart thudded so loud it echoed through his chest.

“Heeseung,” you whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to be scared.”

He said nothing for a long moment. Then, softly, “You’re the only thing I’m scared of losing.” That’s when you knew...he meant it. Every trembling, terrifying word. It wasn’t just affection. It wasn’t just comfort. He loved you. Quietly, desperately, in the way only someone who’s afraid of not being enough ever could.

But you couldn’t say it back.

Because something in your chest twisted whenever the words reached your throat. You wanted to. God, you did. But how could you, when a part of you knew you might forget the weight of those words one day?

So instead, you just pulled him closer.

Let his warmth anchor you. Let your silence be love. And he accepted it like it was all he needed.

For now.

You weren’t supposed to forget things like this.

It started with little slips. You misplaced your favorite pen, the one you always kept clipped to your journal. You put milk in the pantry instead of the fridge. Called Heeseung’s PA by the wrong name, twice.

You told yourself it was stress.

But you started writing everything down. Grocery lists. Things to do. Things you’ve done. Just in case. You didn’t tell Heeseung. Not yet. He’d been watching you more carefully lately, even after the hospital said you were fine. Normal vitals. Normal bloodwork. Just a little fainting from low blood sugar, they said.

You smiled at Heeseung when he brought you tea in the mornings. Laughed when he’d forget his tie and you’d fix it for him before he left for the day. Kissed his knuckles goodbye.

And then, at night, when he was asleep next to you, you wrote.

Remember: His coffee is black with half a sugar. He hums when brushing his teeth. He hates losing control. He loves order. But he loves you, even when you’re chaos.

Your handwriting trembled some days.

You couldn’t afford to forget him.

Until something happened which shook your whole world. You were out for a small grocery run, just around the corner of your cozy apartment.That afternoon, the sky had been unusually dull for mid spring, kind of gray that made everything feel quieter. You were reaching for a carton of oat milk when someone said your name.

A voice you hadn’t heard in years, soft, hesitant. Drenched in familiarity

“Y/n?”

You froze mid-motion. Hand halfway to the shelf. The fluorescent lights above flickered like they always did in that dingy corner aisle. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

But you did anyway.

Jongseong.

There he stood. Your ex. Five years of history packed into one lean frame and a stupidly familiar jawline, he hadn’t changed much, still wore that same brand of denim, still had his hair pushed back like he hadn’t really tried but somehow looked effortlessly put together. Still had that look in his eyes, like he was constantly on the verge of saying something meaningful. You wished you could’ve walked away, wished your feet moved. But your body betrayed you. You stood rooted, staring at the man who had left you broken on the bathroom floor that night so many years ago.

“Hi,” he said, cautiously, as if testing the waters.

You let out a shaky breathe, recovering. “What the hell are you doing here? ”

His lips curved into that apologetic smile, the one that once made you forgive things you never should have. “Shopping. Just moved back last month.”

Of course he did. A painful silence settled between you, thick like humidity before a storm. You hated how your heart still reacted, a strange, erratic beat that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with trauma. You glanced down at your cart. Laundry detergent, a bag of oranges, ice cream you knew Heeseung would pretend not to like but eat anyway.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, voice low. “You look…”

“Don’t.”

That shut him up. He nodded, eyes darting around. “I heard you got married.”

You responded by muttering a quiet 'hm' and stepping back. “I—I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said finally, breath hitching. “For how I left. For all of it. I was a coward. I know that now.” You closed your eyes for a second. Let the words wash over you like cold water. They didn’t heal anything. Didn’t change the nights you’d spent alone wondering what you did wrong.

“I don’t need your apology,” you said, quiet but firm.

He took a step forward, then another. You didn’t move. You should have, but it was too late. He pulled you into a hug before you could protest. His arms wrapped around you like old muscle memory. You felt nothing.

No heat. No pain. Just a dull ache — like pressing on a bruise that had already begun to fade.

You let it happen.

Maybe out of shock. Maybe because you needed to feel nothing for a moment. Then you pushed him back.

“Don’t do that,” you said, voice sharp.“I just—” He looked desperate now. “I miss you, Y/N.”

“I don’t.”

He recoiled like you’d struck him. And maybe you had.

Your hands were still trembling when you stepped out of the grocery store. The air outside was thick with city noise, buses hissing past, horns blaring somewhere in the distance but everything around you felt strangely muted. As if the world had taken a step back, blurred its edges, dulled its colors.

He had touched you.

He had hugged you.

And you had frozen. Stiff, shocked, disgusted. You didn’t even know what scared you more, the fact that he dared to wrap his arms around you, or the fact that, for a split second, you didn’t pull away fast enough. You could still feel the ghost of that hug clinging to your skin like grease. You wiped your arms with your sleeves again and again as you walked, as if scrubbing the moment off could make it disappear.

It didn't.

Halfway back to your apartment, your vision started to blur. The world tilted to one side. Your legs stumbled, heart racing in your chest, a noise ringing faintly in your ears.

And then nothing.

You woke up under hospital lights, too white, too sharp, sterile brightness. A cold breeze hummed from the AC. Your wrist had a hospital band. Your head throbbed.

“Miss?” the voice of a young nurse stirred beside you. You nodded.

It was third time in one month. And the last two times you’d brushed it off, too little sleep, maybe low blood sugar, maybe stress. But this time felt different. Your limbs still felt heavy. Your memory hazy. You sat up slowly as the doctor entered, young, calm, and professional, with a clipboard in his hand and a thoughtful expression behind his glasses.

“We ran some tests while you were unconscious. Vitals look stable, but I want to ask a few questions.”

You nodded absently, already reaching for your journal. The leather cover had softened from overuse. You opened it and began jotting something down under the last entry, the date, the name of the hospital, a reminder to track symptoms.

The doctor noticed.

“You carry that with you often?” he asked.

“Always,” you replied, not looking up. “It helps me keep track of things. Sometimes… I forget details. Or what day it is.”

He tilted his head. “How long have you been doing that?”

“For months....more than half a year to be exact...”

“And before that?”

“I....don't remember ” you said simply.

The next ten minutes passed in quiet tension as he asked you a series of questions. Your age, your name, your address.

Easy enough.

Then what day it was, the current year, who the president was.

You fumbled. You knew it. You did. But in that moment, it slipped away like mist through your fingers. You blinked hard, tried again. But your mouth stayed still.

The doctor’s voice was gentle. “Y/N… I’m going to be honest with you. Some of the signs you’re displaying memory lapses, spatial confusion, fainting episodes they’re consistent with early onset Alzheimer’s disease.”

You stared at him. What?

The words didn't make sense. Not at first.

That was something older people got. Grandparents. Not someone in her twenties. Not someone like you.

“That's not possible,” you murmured. “That’s not—people my age don’t get that.”

“It’s rare,” he agreed, “but not impossible. Especially when there’s a genetic predisposition or trauma involved. We’ll need to run more scans, cognitive assessments, but... I’d advise preparing for the possibility.”

The room closed in.

You were still holding your pen. You hadn’t even finished your sentence in the journal “What happens now?” you asked, your voice brittle.

“You be careful,” he said quietly. “You start documenting everything. You let someone close to you know. And… you prepare. Because things might start getting messy from now on.”

You nodded.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. There was a storm going inside you. What happens now? Instead, you turned to your journal and wrote everything down.

Because if your brain was going to fail you…you needed your words to remember.

Heeseung noticed the emotional shift before anything else. You became quieter, guarded again. It reminded him of how you were when he first met you, polite, careful, full of silences that hurt more than shouting.

He didn’t understand why.

You weren’t pulling away physically. You still reached for his hand, still leaned into his chest on the couch. Still smiled at his stupid jokes. But something behind your eyes had dimmed.

Heeseung didn’t press. At first. Then, one afternoon, he caught you staring blankly at the laundry machine. You’d loaded it three times and hadn’t turned it on.

You didn’t even notice him standing behind you until he touched your arm.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Just... zoned out.” He didn’t believe you but he nodded anyway. That night, you sat on the balcony with your journal in your lap. The stars were faint, the city always swallowed most of them. Still, you looked up and whispered to yourself

“I hope I remember what the sky looks like.”

Heeseung’s promotion came two weeks later.

CEO.

The letters barely held any weight in your mind, but they meant everything to the company and to him. It was the culmination of years of dedication, late nights, near flawless discipline. He had been groomed for this position since the day he stepped into his father’s office, and now he finally stood at the top. There was a celebration, of course. Lavish, gleaming, all sharp suits and champagne glasses. You were expected to be there, not just as his wife, but as his partner, the quiet, polished figure beside the man of the hour. A photograph for the headlines. A name in the caption.

And so, you helped him get ready.

He stood in front of the mirror while you adjusted the lapels of his charcoal suit, the one you had picked for this night months ago, long before the diagnosis, long before your world started folding in on itself. It had a clean cut, regal structure, and a dark sheen under warm lighting. He looked like a leader. Like someone people would follow.

Like someone who deserved everything good in this life.

You moved closer, fingers brushing over his shoulders as you smoothed down the fabric. Then the tie — a deep navy silk one that complimented his skin. You looped it slowly, methodically, the way you’d done a hundred times before, but today your hands were a little shakier. When you finished tightening the knot, you adjusted the collar, folding it just right.

And then… you met his gaze.

He was looking at you the way he always did when he was proud of something. Eyes full of stars. That small boyish smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. The kind of smile that made your heart ache because he still saw you not the version that was slowly slipping through cracks, but the version that had once walked into his life like a spark.

“You’re really good at this,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? You might have a secret career as a stylist.”

You chuckled weakly “Only for you.”

Heeseung grinned, a hint of pink on his ears as he lowered his head shyly. He had always been like this, confident in the boardroom, decisive in crisis, but hopelessly soft around you. “When are you getting ready?” he asked “I mean, not that I want to rush you, but… should I help you with your dress too?” It was teasing, yes. But the sincerity in his tone turned it fragile. Tender. As if he wanted nothing more than to make you feel cared for.

You couldn't meet his eyes anymore.

Your smile felt forced, stretched across your face like something stitched on. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips quick, light, almost mechanical then pulled back and murmured, “I’ll go change now.”

You walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

Locked it.

The moment you turned around, the first sob escaped before you could stop it. Your back slid against the door, and you dropped to the floor, your knees folding beneath you.

You cried.

Not the loud, guttural cries of heartbreak. These were quieter. More dangerous. Cry that hollowed you out from the inside. The kind that didn’t shake the walls but carved themselves into your ribcage like scratches from within. Because how could you stand beside him tonight? How could you wear a smile and pose for photographs next to someone so perfect, so capable, so destined while you were falling apart in silence?

You didn’t deserve to be in those frames. You didn’t deserve the warmth in his voice or the light in his eyes. Heeseung wasn’t just beautiful, he was good. A man who’d carry the weight of the world and still ask how you were doing. He deserved someone strong. Someone helpful. Someone who would hold his hand and not forget the reason why she loved him.

Not someone who would make his life harder. You pulled your knees to your chest, pressing your forehead against them, biting back the next wave of sobs. Tears soaked through the fabric of your dress before you even realized.

And then came a knock. Gentle, hesitant.

“Y/N?” His voice. Muffled through the door, but heavy with concern. “Are you okay?” You panicked for a moment. Could he hear you crying? Could he feel it through the wood? You scrambled to your feet, wiping your face with trembling hands. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just… changing. I’ll be out in a minute.”

A beat of silence.

“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. You heard his footsteps retreat, but slowly. Like he was still half-listening. You turned to the mirror.

Your eyes were red. Your lips were trembling. Your heart was still fractured in your chest.

But you smiled. You forced it. You fixed your face, did your makeup, washed your cheeks with cold water. You put on your dress, the one he loved and stepped into the role you needed to play tonight.

His wife, His person. And maybe a ticking clock he hadn’t heard yet.

Everyone at the office practically worshipped him that day. Heeseung stood on the stage like he was born for it, tall, composed, every line of his suit sharp, every word he spoke deliberate. The perfect heir, finally crowned. You watched him from the back of the room, fingers loosely threaded in front of your dress, the heels you wore pressing too hard against your ankles. He scanned the crowd with those piercing eyes of his, unreadable as ever, until they landed on yours. His gaze softened. Just a flicker a small, private moment no one else caught.

You smiled. Clapped along with everyone else. Even mouthed a “congratulations” later, when he walked off stage and found you again.

But it ached.

The pride did. The smile. The applause. The knowledge that this moment belonged to him, but not fully to you.

Because you’d seen it all evening.

That woman Heejin, his PA hovering just a little too close. Laughing at his jokes like she’d memorized the rhythm of his humor. Knowing the stats, the reports, the number of interviews scheduled, the name of the board member’s wife who just had a baby. She touched his arm like she had every right. Whispered in his ear and was so dangerously close to adjust his tie like it was second nature.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

Heeseung was with you throughout the whole event. When he wasn’t being pulled away to speak with department heads or board directors, he returned to your side. He introduced you formally. Called you his wife. Smiled that same smile that always softened at the edges when it was just the two of you. Still, it felt like a storm was swelling beneath the chandeliers.

The whispers began slowly, it curled around your ankles and trailed up your spine like a chill. Faces half turned. Brows raised. Smirks too subtle to name. For a moment you thought you were imagining it.

Until Heejin, heels clicking, ponytail high made her way to Heeseung and whispered something in his ear while holding her phone to his face. His jaw tensed. The sharp intake of his breath wasn’t loud, but you felt it like a slap.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed the phone back, eyes suddenly blank. You took a step forward, concern prickling in your chest, but before you could reach him

Your own phone buzzed.

One notification. Then another. Then another.

You froze as the screen lit up with a forwarded image and a text chain that had clearly been passed from one employee to another.

A picture.

Of you and Jongseong.

Your arms around each other in the middle of a grocery store aisle. His head tilted, mouth close to your ear. The caption was cruel —

"The new CEO’s wife already bored? Guess Heeseung’s cold heart wasn’t enough to keep her warm."

The room spun for a second. You gripped your clutch tighter, your breath lodged in your throat. You remembered that day. Every nauseating second of it. How you’d walked out of the store in shock and disgust that you’d let your ex touch you. How the encounter made your stomach churn. How you’d fainted halfway to your apartment the third time in a month. How you woke up in the hospital, and how that day changed everything for you.

But none of that was in the photo.

Just a snapshot. A second. A cruelly timed frame that looked like you were holding someone you still loved.

You barely made it through the rest of the event.

when you returned home, Heeseung was quiet.

Too quiet.

He removed his tie slowly, hands shaking in the low light of your shared bedroom. You stood by the dresser, unsure whether to speak first. The silence between you throbbed, thick and pulsing like a bruise.

“I didn’t know about the picture,” you breathed out, finally. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

He didn’t look at you. Just nodded. “Okay.” But that okay was hollow. A placeholder. You stepped closer. “I didn’t know someone took it. It wasn’t a… moment. It was nothing. I told him to stay away.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, still not meeting your eyes. “Did you?”

You blinked. “Yes.”

He licked his lips, exhaled. His voice cracked when he spoke. “Do you still love him?”

The question hit you like a punch.

“No,” you said too quickly. His eyes finally lifted to yours. Red rimmed. Vulnerable in a way he rarely showed. “Then why did you look like you did?”

You hesitated. “I didn’t. That photo—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, almost apologetically. “I’m not blaming you. I just… I don’t know how to ask this without sounding like I’m accusing you, but… was I not enough? Am I… not enough for you?” It broke your heart to hear him ask that. To hear that insecurity come from someone who had always seemed so sure of himself so composed, so precise. “You’re more than enough,” you said. “God, Heeseung, you’re everything. That day… I was in shock. I didn’t want him to touch me. I felt disgusted the second he did. And after that— I—" you stopped, more like the words abruptly run out of your brain. What exactly happened after that? You wanted to reach out to your journal but at this moment it felt like a foreign subject in that room.

He stared, breath caught in his throat “after that what?”

You opened your mouth. But nothing came out.

So instead, you reached for him. Sat beside him. Took his hand in yours “I felt like I didn’t deserve you,” you said honestly. “You’re… perfect. And I’m not. I’m going to ruin your life.”

He shook his head, eyes stinging. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” you whispered.“No.” He squeezed your hand. “I’ve ruined every relationship I’ve been in because I’m quiet. Closed off. I tried to do better with you. I tried to laugh more, talk more, open up. I don’t know if that scared you. Maybe I overwhelmed you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You pressed your mouth to his.

Soft at first. Like reassurance. Like apology.

But it didn’t stay soft. Your lips opened. His hands found your waist. Yours slid to the nape of his neck. He pulled you into his lap, clutching you like he didn’t want you to vanish. It was desperate. Heated. His mouth moved against yours with all the frustration and confusion he couldn’t put into words. His tongue tasted of hurt, of longing, of too much and not enough all at once. Your hands explored his jaw, his chest, the familiar planes of his body.

You gasped into his mouth when he gripped your thigh, and he caught the sound with his own lips, like he couldn’t stand to be away from you for even a second.

Clothes shifted. Hands wandered. You both chased each other’s warmth, each other’s breath, each other’s forgiveness. Your bodies tangled, your mouths pressed again and again, as if trying to remember what this meant what you meant.

When it was over, you lay against his chest, both of you breathless.

He held you like you were something breakable. You clutched the fabric of his shirt in your fist like he was your anchor.

Neither of you spoke.

Because sometimes, silence wasn’t emptines.....sometimes it was healing.

You stayed like that until sleep found you, nestled in the wreckage of that night, hearts still beating wildly but at least for now still together.

The next morning, he woke up alone.

Your pillow was cold.

Your phone was gone.

So were you.

Heeseung tore the apartment apart. Every room, every drawer, every closet. He called everyone. Checked hospitals. Airports. Police stations.

Nothing.

It was like you’d never existed.

Except for one thing

Your journal.

You’d hidden it behind the books on the shelf. It fell when he yanked the entire stack down in a frenzy. He opened it with shaking hands. Inside, he found pages pf him. Notes, memories, doodles of his face, stupid jokes, coffee orders, days he looked happiest, days he looked tired, the way he kissed your temple after work, the time he asked if you wanted kids and you couldn’t stop laughing.

But nothing about you.

No fears. No timeline. No diagnosis.

Until the last page.

Your last entry....probably

If you’re reading this, I probably forgot to tell you...I didn’t mean to leave like this. But I was so scared, Heeseung. I’m still scared. Alzheimer’s, That’s what they said. I’ll forget my name. My home. Maybe one day… even you. But I wrote you down so I wouldn’t. Because how could I forget the only place I ever felt safe?

He found the prescriptions next, right in between the pages, crumbled hard truth. His hands were shaking and he dropped the journal.

You weren’t in any of the places that made sense. Not your mother’s. Not your childhood home, the hospital where they gave you that impossible diagnosis, not even that quiet little beachside cafe you loved as a teenager, the one you once told Heeseung you’d run away to if life ever got too loud.

Heeseung checked them all. He didn’t stop looking. His PA begged him to rest and his board of directors hinted at taking a leave. Tabloids started speculating that you had disappeared because of him but that was not enough to make him stop looking for you. He ignored it all.

You were gone.

And all he had left was a journal where you remembered everything about him… but not a single word about yourself.

It destroyed him.

Every scribbled sentence felt like a goodbye in slow motion.

You wrote down his allergies, his favorite tie, the way he bit his lip when he was nervous. You even wrote down the first time he ever said your name like it meant something. But nothing — nothing — about when you first forgot your keys. Or when you got your test results. Or when you decided that loving him meant leaving.

Heeseung knew you did it to protect him.

But he didn’t want protection.

He wanted you.

At nights, Heeseung found himself on the beach. The sky quiet, no stars and too much cloud. Just the sound of waves, soft and endless. He remembered what you said once about wanting to see stars

“I feel like I belong to the sea. It forgets everything and still keeps going.”

He stared at the ocean for a long time. Then whispered, “I won’t forget you. Even if you forget me.”

Back in Seoul, your disappearance became public. Someone leaked the hospital records. Someone else found the journal. It was only a matter of time. Suddenly, the narrative changed. You weren’t the runaway wife anymore.

You were tragically sick. Young. Beautiful. Doomed.

The world grieved you like a ghost while you were still breathing somewhere. Heeseung hated it.

He hated that they mourned your memory while he still clung to your toothbrush. Hated that your name became a headline when it used to be a whisper only he was allowed to say that gently. And through all of it, the noise, the press, the pity he kept looking.

Weeks passed.

The world moved on.

He didn’t.

It was almost six months later when the knock came. A strange, hesitant rhythm, three soft raps, then silence. It wasn’t the knock you get from someone delivering mail or asking for a favor. It was the kind that came burdened with weight. With grief. With something you weren’t ready to hear. Heeseung opened the door, expecting a stranger. And he was though somehow, not entirely.

The man looked about his age. Disheveled, eyes filled with exhaustion and rimless glasses around them, lips trembling like he’d rehearsed this moment too many times only to still not be ready.

“Are you… Heeseung?” he asked, voice rough, tight. Heeseung blinked. “Yes. Can I help you?”

The man swallowed, then took a deep breath like it hurt to say her name. “I’m Jake. I—

I’ve been taking care of Y/N.”

Heeseung didn’t register it at first. But then the words unfurled inside his chest like shrapnel.

“I found her,” Jake continued, “about six months ago. On the street. She had fainted. Hit her head pretty bad.”

Everything around Heeseung went still. His fingers gripped the door tighter.

“You what?”

Jake nodded, frantic now. “I tried to help her. I brought her to the hospital. I wanted to call you—believe me, I did. But she… she begged me not to. Said you’d worry. Said she just needed a moment away.”

Heeseung felt his world turn inside out. “So she’s with you?” Jake’s expression shattered. “Yes...but I can't do this anymore. ” He stepped forward, desperate now. “Please, can I come in?”

They sat in silence for a moment on opposite ends of the couch. Jake’s fingers trembled around the cup of water Heeseung handed him. “I’m sorry,” Jake murmured, voice cracking. “I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t know if there’s a right way to explain any of this.”

Heeseung nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. Jake looked down. “She didn’t remember much that day. Just bits and pieces. She kept asking for directions to a bakery that closed years ago. She was mumbling about… socks, a couch, stars. It didn’t make sense at first.” He paused to take a breathe “But there was something about her. Something… delicate. She didn’t want to be seen as fragile, but she was. She had this quiet kind of sadness. Like she was running from her own mind.”

Heeseung’s throat felt like sandpaper.

“I brought her to my place,” Jake continued, wiping his eyes. “It was closer than the hospital. She stayed for a few days. Then… weeks. And I just… let her.”

There was guilt in every syllable.

“I should’ve called you. I know that. But I—she asked me not to. She said she wasn’t ready to go back. That she needed time. And after everything she told me—or tried to tell me—I didn’t want to force her.”

Heeseung finally found his voice, low and raw. “Told you?”

Jake let out a weak laugh. “Pieces. Fragments. She kept scribbling on papers. I read one by accident one night when she forgot where she hid it.” That hit Heeseung in the chest. “She still wrote?”

“Obsessively,” Jake whispered. “Dates. Events. What you wore. The first time you laughed during breakfast. The time you hugged her when she thought no one would.” He looked up at Heeseung with a hollow sort of respect. “She didn’t write about herself. Just you.”

The silence that followed was cruel.

Then Jake broke it, voice cracking open. “I didn’t plan on falling for her. But it happened.”

Heeseung’s fingers curled into fists.

“I think… I think I fell in love the moment she offered to fold my laundry. She said she couldn’t sleep unless the room was organized, so she started arranging things, my books, labeled my kitchen spices.” He gave a humorless laugh. “She even asked me one night what tie I’d be wearing the next day. I told her I was a kindergarten teacher—I don’t wear ties. I don’t even own one.”

Heeseung looked at him, and something inside him twisted.

Jake’s next words came with a crack.

“She said she loved me once. Looked me straight in the eye and said it. But I knew—God, I knew—she didn’t mean me.”

Heeseung's chest ached.

“She looked at me like she loved someone. But there was no warmth in it. No spark. Just muscle memory.” Jake’s hands trembled harder. “Every day, she did things I knew weren’t meant for me. She’d ask me if I remembered the constellation we saw last December. I’ve never gone stargazing with her. She made tea the way you liked it. She even called me 'Seung' once.”

Heeseung felt the blood drain from his face.“I tried to be enough,” Jake whispered. “I told myself if I loved her hard enough, it wouldn’t matter that she was forgetting. That I wasn’t the one she loved. But I’m not strong enough. I can’t keep lying to myself. I’m going crazy.”

His voice finally broke. “She’s still in love with you.”

Heeseung sat frozen, pain slicing through every nerve. Jake covered his face. “I didn’t come here to fight. Or to beg. I came because I can’t hold this anymore. She’s slipping, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to keep her grounded.”

He looked up, red-eyed. “But maybe you do.”

Heeseung didn’t sleep that night. Jake left after an hour. Not because he wanted to, but because he said staying longer would feel like he was asking for permission.

Heeseung wandered back into the old room you used together. It still smelled like you. The scent hadn’t left, even though you had. He sat at your desk and opened one of the drawers.

And there it was.

Your journal. The one with the frayed corner and ink blot on the back. His hands shook as he turned the pages.

February 3rd – Heeseung laughed today. Actually laughed. I think it was because I burnt the toast and blamed the toaster, but I want to believe it’s because he’s starting to feel safe around me.

March 19th – He looked at me like I was someone worth choosing.

May 1st – I told a joke. He didn’t laugh. I think I messed up. I think I’m slipping again. Heeseung, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I wanted to remember. I wanted to stay.

Heeseung pressed the pages to his chest and let himself cry.

Because you didn’t run away. You simply… forgot your way back. And now he had to find you before the memory of him disappeared too.

The storm had passed, but the ruin it left behind still trembled beneath Heeseung’s ribs. The next morning, sunlight spilled pale and cold over his apartment floor, but there was no warmth in it. Just silence. Thick. Suffocating. Jake had left the address on a wrinkled piece of paper, scrawled in shaky handwriting like his hands were trying to outrun guilt. Heeseung held it tight as he stood in front of the door now, frozen not from fear, but something worse.

What if you look at him and see nothing? He didn’t knock. He just stood there for a second. Then another. Then the door opened from the inside. You stood barefoot, hair pulled back loosely, wearing a familiar oversized cardigan. His cardigan.

But the eyes that met his weren’t familiar at all.

You frowned.

“Who are you…” your head tilted, voice uncertain. “Why do you look so sad?”

It wasn’t a joke anymore. It wasn’t teasing. Your voice was too sincere, too puzzled. Heeseung’s heart dropped into a bottomless void.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. So he stepped forward and hugged you. He didn’t ask. Didn’t wait. He just pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it nearly broke both of you.

“I missed you,” he whispered, voice trembling against your ear. “I missed you so goddamn much.”

For a beat, you didn’t move. Then your fingers clutched his shirt. And you began to cry.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you said, voice cracking. “But you… you feel familiar.” He nodded into your shoulder, gripping you like an anchor in a storm.“You’re warm... but so familiar ” you mumbled, cheek pressed against his collarbone now. "Heeseung...why are you sad?”

His tears spilled freely now.

Behind them, Jake watched from the hallway, shoulders stiff, arms crossed, mouth quivering.

When you turned slightly and met Jake's eyes

You blinked. Shifting suddenly,Then asked, “Who are you?”

Silence.

Jake’s lips parted. But no sound came.

A second passed. Then another. He blinked once, twice, swallowed the storm threatening to choke him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered.

Heeseung didn’t speak. Didn’t turn.

Jake’s eyes glistened. But he smiled anyway, as if giving you up was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He turned away and went into the other room. A silent retreat.

That night, Heeseung stayed. He didn’t sleep. Neither did you. You curled against him on the couch, wrapped in past like a quilt. He tucked you into his side like he had never lost you. Your hand rested on his chest, fingers twitching every so often like you were trying to remember something with touch alone.

In the silence, you whispered, “I want to go.”

He turned to look at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Where?”

You shook your head, confused. “I don’t know. Just… away.”

“Away from what?”

“I don’t know that either,” you said. “But I want to go. With you.” Heeseung kissed your forehead, gently. “Okay.”

Jake woke up to an empty house. No voices. No breathing. No you. He called out once. Twice. Silence answered.

His heart seized.

Then he saw it, on the dining table. A phone. No, not a phone. A voice recorder. The kind Heeseung used sometimes when working through business proposals aloud.

He pressed play. And heard Heeseung’s voice. Soft. Tired. But steady.

“Jake…I know you probably hate me right now. Maybe you should. But I need to say this before I go.

Thank you.

Thank you for finding her when I lost her. For caring for her when I didn’t know how. For loving her in the quiet ways that kept her alive.

I read the journal.

I know now that she didn’t leave because she wanted to forget me. She left because she was scared I’d forget her. Or worse, that I’d watch her forget me. But Jake… she remembers something. Somewhere deep down, in the part of her soul untouched by time or illness or fear...she remembers love.

And I’m going to remind her. Every day. Until the stars go out. I’m taking her away. Just the two of us.

She wanted to go. So I’m taking her where the sky’s clear and quiet. Where the world slows down.

I’m going to show her the stars.”

The recording stopped. Jake stood there for a long, long time. He didn’t cry right away. Instead, he sat down at the kitchen table. Fingers trembling, he reached for the cross that hung from his necklace.

Clutched it. Pressed it to his lips. And closed his eyes.

“Take care of them,” he whispered. “Please.”

And then he cried. For you. For Heeseung. For himself. For the cruel poetry of loving someone who never truly belonged to you.

THE END

©sunishake

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The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Choi household, casting golden stripes across the hardwood floors. Seungcheol stirred awake to the sound of tiny feet pattering down the hallway, followed by what could only be described as the world’s most dramatic sigh from a six-year-old.

“Daddy?” Naeun’s voice carried through the door, accompanied by three gentle knocks that had become their secret code. “Are you awake? Because I’ve been awake for… um…” He could practically hear her counting on her fingers. “Seven minutes! That’s basically forever!”

Seungcheol chuckled into his pillow, his heart doing that familiar flip it always did when his daughter’s voice reached his ears. Three days into his wife’s business trip to Singapore, and he was still marveling at how Naeun managed to fill every corner of their house with her presence, even when she was trying to be quiet.

“Come in, princess,” he called, pushing himself up against the headboard just as the door burst open.

Naeun bounded into the room wearing mismatched socks—one with tiny cacti, the other with rainbow stripes—and her favorite purple pajamas that were getting a bit too short in the sleeves. Her hair stuck up in about seventeen different directions, a clear indication that she’d been plotting something since dawn.

“Daddy, I have a very important question,” she announced, climbing onto the bed with the seriousness of someone about to negotiate world peace. She settled cross-legged beside him, her dark eyes—so much like his own—sparkling with mischief.

“Hit me with it,” Seungcheol said, automatically reaching out to smooth down her unruly hair.

“Can I come to the gym with you today?”

The request caught him off guard. In the three years since they’d moved to this neighborhood, Naeun had shown exactly zero interest in his workout routine. If anything, she usually complained that his gym time meant less time for tea parties and building elaborate blanket forts.

“The gym?” he repeated, studying her face for any signs of fever or alien possession. “You want to come to the gym? With me? To work out?”

Naeun nodded so vigorously her whole body bounced. “Uh-huh! I’ve been thinking about it all morning. Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday when Uncle Mingyu was flexing his muscles and saying how he got them from the gym. And then I thought, if Uncle Mingyu can get muscles at the gym, maybe I can get muscles too!”

She held up her tiny arms and attempted to flex, her face scrunching up with concentration. The sight was so endearing that Seungcheol had to bite back a laugh.

“Plus,” she continued, dropping her arms and leaning closer conspiratorially, “Uncle Joshua said that gym people get to drink those colorful smoothies, and I really, really want to try a purple one. Do you think they have purple ones, Daddy?”

There it was. Seungcheol should have known there was an ulterior motive involving either food, drinks, or both. His daughter had inherited her mother’s strategic thinking, though thankfully she hadn’t quite mastered the art of subtlety yet.

“Well,” he said slowly, pretending to consider it seriously, “the gym can be pretty intense. There’s lots of heavy breathing, sweating, and…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Grunting.”

Naeun’s eyes widened. “Grunting? Like when Uncle Seokmin tries to open pickle jars?”

“Exactly like that, but louder.”

“I can handle grunting,” she declared with the confidence of someone who had clearly never been to a gym before. “I grunt all the time! Watch!” She proceeded to demonstrate with a series of small grunts that sounded more like a baby seal than anything remotely intimidating.

Seungcheol couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “Alright, princess. You’ve convinced me. But we’ll need to set some ground rules.”

“Rules?” Naeun’s face fell slightly.

“Good rules,” he assured her quickly. “Like, you have to stay close to Daddy at all times, no touching any equipment without permission, and…” He grinned. “We definitely have to get smoothies afterward.”

The transformation was immediate. Naeun launched herself at him with a squeal of delight, wrapping her small arms around his neck. “Really? Really really?”

“Really really,” he confirmed, hugging her back. “But first, we need to get you some proper workout clothes.”

An hour later, after what could only be described as the most elaborate outfit selection process in the history of six-year-olds, Naeun emerged from her room wearing pink leggings, a sparkly unicorn t-shirt, and her light-up sneakers. She’d also insisted on a headband—not for practical purposes, but because she’d seen someone wearing one in a fitness commercial and thought it looked “very professional.”

“How do I look?” she asked, striking a pose that was equal parts superhero and ballet dancer.

“Like the strongest princess in the kingdom,” Seungcheol replied honestly.

The drive to the gym was filled with Naeun’s rapid-fire questions about everything from whether they’d see any celebrities (“Probably not, sweetie”) to whether she’d be strong enough to lift cars after one workout (“Maybe we should start with smaller goals”). Her excitement was infectious, and Seungcheol found himself looking forward to the experience almost as much as she was.

The gym was busier than usual for a Saturday morning, filled with the weekend warriors and fitness enthusiasts getting their routines in before the day took over. Several heads turned as they walked in—not because of Seungcheol, who was a regular, but because of the tiny girl beside him who was gaping at everything like she’d just entered Disney World.

As they made their way past the check-in counter, Seungcheol spotted familiar figures already warming up in their usual corner of the gym. Joshua was stretching on a mat, Mingyu was adjusting a bench press setup, and Wonwoo was programming something on the treadmill display. Their Saturday morning crew was all accounted for.

“Daddy,” Naeun whispered, tugging on his shirt, “it’s so big! And there are so many… machines! And Uncle Joshua! And Uncle Mingyu! And Uncle Wonwoo!” Her whisper grew progressively louder with each uncle she spotted.

“Looks like the whole crew is here,” Seungcheol murmured, leading her toward their usual area.

The moment Joshua spotted them approaching, his face broke into a huge grin. “Well, well, well,” he called out, pausing his stretching routine. “Looks like we have a special guest today.”

Naeun immediately ran toward her uncles, momentarily forgetting her gym shyness in the excitement of seeing familiar faces. “Uncle Joshua! Uncle Mingyu! Uncle Wonwoo! I’m here to get muscles!”

Mingyu straightened up from his bench setup, his face lighting up. “Muscles, huh? That’s serious business. You came to the right place.”

“And the right people,” Wonwoo added with his characteristic subtle smile, stepping off the treadmill. “We happen to be experts.”

Seungcheol felt a wave of gratitude for his friends. Having them here meant Naeun would feel more comfortable, and maybe—if he was lucky—he might actually get some of his own workout done too.

“Okay, princess,” Seungcheol said, crouching down to her level while the others gathered around. “The uncles and I usually work out together on Saturdays. Would you like to rotate between spending time with each of us while we exercise?”

Naeun’s eyes lit up like she’d just been offered the best deal of her life. “I get to work out with ALL of you?”

“That’s the plan,” Joshua said, already pulling out his phone to set a timer. “How about fifteen-minute rotations? That way everyone gets quality time with our newest gym member.”

“I’ll take first shift,” Mingyu volunteered immediately. “I was about to start with some light cardio warm-up anyway. Perfect for a beginner.”

“Dibs on second,” Joshua called out.

“That leaves me with third, and Seungcheol can take the final rotation,” Wonwoo concluded practically.

Naeun clapped her hands together. “This is the best plan ever! It’s like… like a muscle-building adventure with all my favorite people!”

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

Mingyu led Naeun to the cardio section with the enthusiasm of a tour guide showing off the world’s greatest attraction. “Alright, my little gym buddy, we’re going to start with something fun. Have you ever seen a treadmill before?”

“Is that the moving floor thing?” Naeun asked, eyeing the row of treadmills with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“Exactly! But don’t worry, we’ll start slow. Like, really slow. Turtle-pace slow.”

He helped her onto the treadmill, setting it to the lowest possible speed and staying right beside her. Naeun’s face was a picture of concentration as she tried to match the belt’s movement, her arms swinging dramatically as if she was power-walking through a park.

“Uncle Mingyu, I think I’m flying!” she announced after about thirty seconds, having found her rhythm.

“You’re definitely flying,” he agreed, starting his own treadmill at a much higher pace. “We’re both flying. This is what they call a dynamic duo workout.”

While Mingyu handled his actual cardio routine, he kept up a steady stream of encouragement and conversation with Naeun, who had decided that treadmill walking was “like being in a magic moving world where you can run forever but never get anywhere.” Her philosophical take on cardio equipment was surprisingly profound.

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

When the timer went off, Joshua appeared with a yoga mat and the kind of gentle smile that made everyone feel immediately at ease. “My turn, little athlete. We’re going to work on flexibility and balance.”

“What’s flexibility?” Naeun asked, following him to a quiet area of the gym.

“It’s being able to move your body in lots of different ways without it hurting,” Joshua explained, settling down on the mat. “Like this.” He demonstrated a simple seated forward fold.

Naeun’s attempt was enthusiastic if not entirely accurate. “I’m bendy like a pretzel!” she declared, managing something that was part forward fold, part interpretive dance.

“You’re incredibly bendy,” Joshua agreed seriously. “Now let’s try some balance poses. Can you stand on one foot like a flamingo?”

What followed was fifteen minutes of the most adorable yoga session ever witnessed in that gym. Naeun attempted various poses with complete dedication, providing running commentary about how each position reminded her of different animals or foods. Her “downward dog” looked more like a “confused cat,” and her “tree pose” resembled a “wobbly telephone pole,” but her enthusiasm was infectious.

Joshua, meanwhile, flowed through his actual yoga routine with practiced ease, occasionally helping Naeun adjust her form or offering new “animal poses” for her to try.

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

Wonwoo’s approach was characteristically methodical. He’d set up a small area with light weights, resistance bands, and exercise balls—basically a mini gym within the gym, perfectly sized for a six-year-old.

“Welcome to strength training 101,” he said formally, as if addressing a new recruit. “Today we’ll be focusing on functional movements and proper form.”

Naeun nodded seriously, clearly impressed by the official tone. “I’m ready for strength training 101, Uncle Wonwoo.”

He handed her a pair of one-pound weights. “These are your training weights. We’ll start with basic movements—bicep curls, shoulder raises, and squats.”

What Seungcheol observed from across the gym, while doing his own workout, was perhaps the most methodical exercise session a six-year-old had ever participated in. Wonwoo demonstrated each movement with precision, and Naeun mimicked him with surprising accuracy, her tongue poking out in concentration.

“Uncle Wonwoo, are you sure these weights aren’t magic?” she asked after completing a set of bicep curls. “Because I think I can already feel my muscles growing.”

“The magic is in the consistency and proper form,” Wonwoo replied seriously. “You’re doing excellent work.”

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

By the time Seungcheol’s turn came around, he’d managed to complete most of his usual routine while keeping one eye on Naeun’s adventures with his friends. She bounded over to him with the energy of someone who’d just discovered her new favorite hobby.

“Daddy! I did cardio with Uncle Mingyu and yoga with Uncle Joshua and strength training with Uncle Wonwoo! I’m basically a professional athlete now!”

“I can see that,” Seungcheol said, noting her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Are you ready for the final challenge?”

“What’s the final challenge?”

He led her to the rowing machines, the same ones she’d pointed at originally. “This is where we bring everything together—cardio, strength, and coordination.”

“Good choice. Those are for building strong backs.”

He helped her onto the seat of the rowing machine, adjusting it as much as possible for her tiny frame. Her feet barely reached the footrests, and her hands could barely wrap around the handle, but her determination was unwavering after her rotations with the uncles.

“Like this?” she asked, attempting to mimic the motion she’d observed.

“Almost. Here, let me show you.” Seungcheol positioned himself on the machine next to hers and demonstrated the proper form. “It’s like you’re rowing a boat. Pull back with your whole body, not just your arms.”

Naeun nodded seriously and gave it another try. Her form was questionable at best, but her enthusiasm more than made up for it. “I’m rowing to treasure island!” she announced, getting into the rhythm. “There’s going to be so much gold!”

They spent the remaining time on the rowing machines, with Naeun providing a running commentary about their imaginary journey to various exotic destinations. By now, she’d perfected the art of turning exercise equipment into props for elaborate adventures.

After about an hour and a half of rotations, Naeun began to show signs of fatigue. Her enthusiastic commentary became more sporadic, and she started leaning against Seungcheol more frequently. The uncles, who had all completed their own workouts while taking turns with their favorite niece, gathered around as she attempted one final rowing stroke.

“You know what, princess?” Seungcheol said casually. “I think we’ve all earned those smoothies.”

Her face lit up immediately. “Really? The purple ones?”

“Absolutely,” Joshua chimed in, wiping sweat from his forehead with a gym towel. “I think we all deserve a reward after that workout.”

“Group smoothie celebration!” Mingyu announced, flexing dramatically. “To honor our newest gym member!”

The gym’s smoothie bar was located in a small café area near the entrance, complete with comfortable seating and a menu full of colorful options. Naeun pressed her face against the glass display case, studying the available fruits and add-ins with the intensity of a scientist examining specimens.

“There’s so many choices!” she said, overwhelmed by the possibilities. “How do I pick just one?”

“Well,” Joshua said, settling into one of the café chairs, “you could always get recommendations from experts.”

“You’re all smoothie experts too?” Naeun’s eyes widened with respect.

“We’ve tried every flavor on this menu at least twice,” Wonwoo confirmed.

“Even the green ones?”

“Especially the green ones,” Mingyu said with a grin. “But for someone looking for a purple smoothie…” He studied the menu thoughtfully. “I’d recommend the berry blast with added acai. It’s purple, it’s delicious, and it’s packed with antioxidants.”

“Anti-what-ants?” Naeun looked confused.

“Antioxidants,” Seungcheol explained. “They’re good for you. They help your body stay healthy and strong.”

“Perfect!” Naeun declared. “I want the anti-ant smoothie!”

They placed their orders—a berry blast for Naeun, a protein-packed green smoothie for Seungcheol, Joshua opted for his usual post-workout chocolate peanut butter blend, Mingyu went with a tropical mango mix, and Wonwoo chose a simple strawberry banana combination. As they waited, they found a large table where they could all sit together.

Their smoothies arrived, and Naeun’s reaction to her first sip was worth documenting. Her eyes went wide, then closed in apparent bliss, and she made a small sound of approval that had all four adults chuckling.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” she declared. “It’s like… like drinking a rainbow!”

“That’s the antioxidants,” Mingyu said sagely. “They make everything taste better.”

As they sat in the café area, sipping their smoothies and watching the steady stream of gym-goers, Naeun regaled her uncles with detailed accounts of every exercise she’d tried with each of them. Her storytelling had grown more elaborate with each retelling, and by now her wall push-ups with Joshua had apparently been performed while “balancing on one foot like a flamingo.”

“And then,” she continued, gesturing dramatically with her smoothie cup, “Uncle Wonwoo taught me about functional movement, which I think means moving like you have a function, which I definitely do because my function is to get strong!”

“That’s… actually not a bad interpretation,” Wonwoo observed with amusement.

“And Uncle Mingyu showed me how to fly on the moving floor, and Uncle Joshua taught me yoga animals, and Daddy took me rowing to treasure island where we found the real treasure!” She held up her smoothie. “Purple treasure!”

Joshua laughed. “I think she’s got the right idea about rewards for hard work.”

“So,” Seungcheol asked, looking around the table at his friends, “same time next week? All of us?”

“You mean this is going to be a regular thing?” Wonwoo asked, though his slight smile suggested he wouldn’t mind.

“Well,” Naeun interjected before Seungcheol could answer, “I need to come back to keep building my muscles. And the uncles need to keep building their muscles too. And we all need to drink more purple treasure. So yes, it should definitely be regular.”

“The princess has spoken,” Mingyu said with a mock bow. “How can we argue with that logic?”

“We can’t,” Joshua agreed. “Looks like Saturday mornings just got a whole lot more interesting.”

As they chatted, Seungcheol found himself marveling at how natural this felt. His daughter, surrounded by her beloved uncles, glowing with pride over her morning’s accomplishments and completely at ease in a setting that was entirely new to her. She’d adapted to the gym environment with the same fearless curiosity she brought to everything else, turning what could have been an intimidating experience into an adventure.

“Daddy,” Naeun said, tugging on his sleeve. “Can we come back next week?”

“You want to come back?”

“Uh-huh! But next time, I want to try those spinning bike things that look like horses.”

Seungcheol followed her gaze to the spin class studio, where an instructor was leading an energetic session. “Those are stationary bikes for spinning classes. They’re pretty intense.”

“I can handle intense,” Naeun said confidently. “I’m strong now. Look!” She flexed her tiny biceps again, and this time, Seungcheol swore he could see the tiniest hint of definition.

“You know what?” he said, making a decision. “Let’s make this our regular Saturday morning tradition. Gym time followed by smoothie time.”

“Really?” Naeun’s face lit up like Christmas morning.

“Really. But only if you promise to keep working hard and listening to instructions.”

“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to fly!” She performed an elaborate gesture that was supposed to be crossing her heart but looked more like she was conducting an invisible orchestra.

“I think you mean ‘hope to die,’” Joshua corrected gently.

“No, hope to fly,” Naeun insisted. “That sounds much better.”

As they finished their smoothies and prepared to head home, Seungcheol’s phone buzzed with a text message. His wife, checking in from Singapore.

How’s my girl doing? Missing you both terribly!

He quickly typed back: She’s doing great. We’re at the gym. Yes, you read that right. I’ll explain later.

The response was immediate: The gym?! With Naeun?! I need photos and a full report.

Seungcheol glanced around at the scene—his daughter animatedly explaining something to Mingyu while Joshua and Wonwoo listened with amused attention, empty smoothie cups scattered across the table, Naeun’s cheeks still flushed with exertion and excitement.

He snapped a quick photo and sent it, followed by: Your daughter is officially a gym rat. She wants to come back next week.

I can’t wait to hear everything. Give her extra hugs from me.

“Daddy, who are you texting?” Naeun asked, finally noticing his phone.

“Mommy. She wanted to know how our gym day went.”

“Ooh, tell her about the treasure island! And the anti-ants! And how I’m probably strong enough to carry grocery bags now!”

Seungcheol dutifully typed out a condensed version of Naeun’s adventures, knowing his wife would want every detail when they talked later. As he typed, he realized that this day had become something he’d remember for a long time—not just because it was Naeun’s first gym experience, but because of the way she’d thrown herself into it with complete trust and enthusiasm.

“Alright, princess,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Ready to head home?”

“Can we take the long way? I want to see if my muscles are strong enough to walk extra far.”

“Of course we can take the long way.”

They said their goodbyes to Joshua, Mingyu, and Wonwoo, with promises to meet up again soon. As they walked to the car, Naeun chattering about all the things she wanted to try next week, Seungcheol felt a familiar warmth in his chest.

This was what he’d signed up for when he became a father—the unexpected adventures, the questions that came out of nowhere, the way a simple Saturday morning could turn into something magical just because his daughter was experiencing it for the first time.

“Daddy?” Naeun said as he helped her into her car seat.

“Yes, princess?”

“Thank you for taking me to the gym. It was the best adventure ever.”

“Thank you for asking to come with me. You made it the best gym day I’ve ever had.”

As they drove home, Naeun’s excited chatter gradually slowed, and by the time they pulled into their driveway, she was fast asleep in her car seat, her tiny hand still clutched around the empty smoothie cup. Seungcheol sat in the car for a moment, just watching her sleep, marveling at how someone so small could fill his heart so completely.

His phone buzzed with another message from his wife: Can’t wait to be home with my two favorite people. Save some adventures for me!

He smiled, typing back: Always. But I make no promises about the smoothie addiction. That one’s on you to handle.

Bring it on. I missed everything about home, even the chaos.

Seungcheol looked at his sleeping daughter, her face peaceful and her hair still sticking up in about twelve different directions despite his earlier attempts to smooth it down. In three days, his wife would be home, and they’d be a complete family again. But for now, it was just him and Naeun, and their Saturday morning tradition that was apparently going to involve a lot more protein powder and a lot fewer sleep-ins.

He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing.

As he carefully carried Naeun into the house, she stirred slightly and mumbled something about purple treasure and grocery bags before settling back into sleep. The moment they stepped through the front door, a white blur of excitement came bounding toward them—Kkuma, their fluffy dog, had clearly been waiting by the window for their return.

“Shh, Kkuma,” Seungcheol whispered, trying to calm the excited pup while still holding his sleeping daughter. “She’s tired from her big gym adventure.”

But Kkuma wasn’t having it. The little dog had missed his humans and was determined to give them a proper welcome home, complete with enthusiastic tail wagging and tiny yips of joy. Naeun stirred in Seungcheol’s arms, her eyes fluttering open just enough to register her furry best friend.

“Kkuma,” she mumbled sleepily, reaching one small hand down to pat the dog’s head. “I got muscles today. Wanna see?”

Even half-asleep, she attempted to flex her tiny bicep for the dog, who responded by giving her hand a gentle lick. Kkuma then proceeded to follow them all the way to Naeun’s bedroom, settling himself on his favorite spot on her rug as if to stand guard while she napped.

Seungcheol tucked her into her bed, smoothing the covers around her tiny form, while Kkuma curled up nearby—the perfect picture of a well-loved family.

“Sweet dreams, my strong princess,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Outside, the afternoon sun was climbing higher, and somewhere in Singapore, his wife was probably in a meeting, thinking about home. In a few hours, Naeun would wake up and want to tell him about her dreams, which would probably involve treasure islands and smoothie bars and maybe flying unicorns, because that’s how her mind worked.

But for now, the house was quiet, filled with the peaceful satisfaction that came after a day well-spent. Seungcheol settled onto the couch with his own phone, scrolling through the photos he’d taken at the gym—Naeun concentrating seriously on her wall push-ups, her face bright with laughter as she tried the rowing machine, the pure joy on her face when she took her first sip of that purple smoothie.

He sent the best ones to his wife, along with a message: Your daughter is going to rule the world someday. Fair warning.

The response came quickly: I wouldn’t expect anything less. She’s got the best teacher.

Seungcheol smiled, leaning back into the couch cushions. Tomorrow would bring new adventures, new questions, new opportunities to see the world through Naeun’s eyes. And next Saturday, they’d head back to the gym, where his daughter would undoubtedly discover new ways to turn exercise equipment into props for elaborate imaginary scenarios.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[staranghae]

soo fun

🍀 svt reacts to you calling them your ‘current’ boyfriend.

includes ─── humor/crack, fluff, one (1) joke about death, established relationship, reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’, dramateen. ᯓ★ footnote ─── heyyy.. it’s me :-)!!! i’m a bit out of shape, so let me ease in a bit hehe.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[staranghae]

thanks for the tag bby <3

C - CBZ (Prime Time) by BSS

H - Heartbeat (BTS World OST) by BTS

E - Ennodu Nee Irundhaal (Reprise) by A R Rahman

R - Ricochet by Chase Atlantic

R - Rain by SEVENTEEN

Y - You're On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift

not able to tag because of trashy internetagain :((

MOOT / TAG GAME !

mission— spell your real name / name you use on tumblr with songs you like >< ready, set, go !

m — my love, mine all mine (mitski)

i — i love you, i’m sorry (gracie abrams)

c — coraline (lyn lapid)

k — killshot (magdalena bay)

i — i know you (faye webster)

e — either way (ive)

tagging— @puma-riki @flwrstqr @liwinly @woniefication @lilificationn @stvrriki @okwonyo + anyone else who wants to join !

[staranghae]

cherry on top 🍒 mafia boss!seungcheol x reader. (3)

being in a situationship is already pretty hard. being in a situationship with a petty mafia boss who has never dated before? much, much harder. previous chapter + masterlist.

💰 Expense report filed by mafia financial officer, Lee Seokmin

SUBJECT: Personal Expenditures – S.Coups re: Civilian Target

CATEGORY: GIFTS / SURPRISES

Custom Silk Scarf (Monogrammed with "S.C.") – $1,350.00 └ Ordered from Paris boutique. Civilian target wore it once, commented: "It's soft, but why is his name on it?"

Limited Edition Vinyl Record (Frank Ocean – Blonde) – $880.00 └ Gifted after argument #7. Civilian target was seen smiling while playing track 14.

Midnight Ice Cream Delivery – From Rome, Italy – $4,700.00 (incl. private courier) └ Civilian target said: "You could've just gotten Häagen-Dazs." Boss replied: "This has basil. It’s romantic."

CATEGORY: DAMAGE CONTROL / APOLOGIES

Floral Arrangements (x12) from 12 Different Florists – $2,160.00 └ Delivered over 48 hours post-miscommunication re: "flirting waiter" incident. One bouquet was left untouched in the hallway. The rest were used as Instagram story props.

Therapist Retainer (Anonymous Booking, Civilian Target) – $3,000.00 └ Civilian target has not claimed these sessions. Boss insists it's "just in case she realizes she needs help processing me."

Reimbursement for Civilian Target’s Broken Mug (accidentally knocked over during jealous argument) – $25.00 └ Mug was shaped like a cat. Boss replaced it with an expensive glass tumbler. Civilian target was not amused.

CATEGORY: SMALL & QUESTIONABLE EXPENSES

Custom Engraved Bullet Pendant ("So You Think I’m Scary, Huh?") – $300.00 └ Intended as ironic gift. Civilian target laughed, wore it once to annoy him. Boss framed photo.

Spotify Premium (Family Plan – Only One Member) – $15.99/mo └ Boss created 17hr playlist titled "if i die it’s her fault but i’d still thank her." Civilian target unknowingly listens to it often.

Gluten-Free Baking Class (Online, Gifted to Civilian Target’s Aunt) – $220.00 └ She mentioned her aunt wanted it. He took notes. Civilian target unaware of mafia-funded culinary education in progress.

Donation to Shelter Where Civilian Target Volunteers – $5,000.00 └ Made anonymously. Boss requested they name a puppy after her. They did. Civilian target unsure why a rottweiler named "Beloved" exists.

CATEGORY: UNAUTHORIZED PERSONAL SPENDING

Rental of Entire Rooftop Restaurant for "Casual Talk" – $12,000.00 └ Civilian target refused to show up. Ate ramen alone at home. Boss sat through three-course meal with two phones: one for business, one specifically for her texts and calls.

Suit Tailoring (New Lapels for Better Hug Experience) – $900.00 └ Boss: "She said my suits were stiff. I made them hug-friendly."

Jet Fuel Surcharge – Roundtrip to Seoul, 3 hours total visit – $15,700.00 └ Purpose: "To see her smile."

TOTAL EXPENSES TO DATE: $49,250.99

RECOMMENDATION/S: Immediate financial intervention or a mandatory sit-down with Boss regarding boundaries, budgets, and basic human dating behavior.

👂 Surveillance transcript filed by mafia soldier, Chwe Hansol

DATE RANGE: ███████████-███████████ LOCATION: Civilian Target's Apartment, Unit 13S BUG #7: Living Room Lamp (Active)

TRANSCRIPT 001 – 23:43 HRS

S.COUPS: Why is there a toothbrush that’s not mine in your bathroom? YOU: Because I live here. And sometimes people visit me. It’s called having a life. S.COUPS: Who visits you? Give me names. Socials. Blood types. YOU: You are so exhausting. [SOUND: Footsteps. Fridge opens.] S.COUPS: Don’t change the subject. That toothbrush has a blue handle. Blue is a masculine color. YOU: Oh my god, are you jealous of a toothbrush now? [SOUND: Prolonged silence. Soft muttering.] S.COUPS: ...It’s suspiciously ergonomic.

TRANSCRIPT 004 – 07:12 HRS

YOU: Why are you folding my laundry? S.COUPS: Because you do it wrong. YOU: What does that even mean? S.COUPS: You mix textures. Cotton with wool. It’s chaos. This is what chaos feels like. YOU: You literally blow up cars for a living. S.COUPS: Yeah, but strategically.

TRANSCRIPT 008 – 14:09 HRS

YOU: Why is there a bag of gummy bears on my pillow? S.COUPS: You said you liked them. YOU: Once. In passing. S.COUPS: I take notes. On everything. You also like your coffee with oat milk and you talk in your sleep about octopus documentaries. YOU: That’s creepy. S.COUPS: It’s called “caring.” YOU: It’s called surveillance. [SOUND: Muffled laughing, presumably from YOU.]

TRANSCRIPT 015 – 00:03 HRS

YOU: Did you pick a fight with your own underboss because he liked one of my photos? S.COUPS: He put a heart and a fire emoji. That’s a double reaction. It’s aggressive. YOU: You are so—so emotionally constipated. S.COUPS: You say that like it’s a bad thing. YOU: It is a bad thing! [SOUND: Struggle noises, unclear. Presumed YOU threw a pillow at S.COUPS and he retaliated by tackling YOU on to the couch.] NOTE: Possible physical altercation turns to intimacy. Redacted for discretion.

TRANSCRIPT 017 – 01:26 HRS

YOU: Stop staring at me. S.COUPS: I’m memorizing your face. Don’t make this harder than it is. [SILENCE FOR 13 SECONDS.] YOU: ...Why is there a tiny blinking light in my lamp? S.COUPS: Oh no. YOU: Did you seriously bug my apartment?! S.COUPS: Okay, first of all, you’re being very judgmental right now. YOU: Because you’re a lunatic. S.COUPS: I'll give you one guess as to whose fault is that. YOU: Take the damn bug out of my lamp, you psycho! NOTE: S.COUPS neglected to turn bug off. Argument ensued; redacted for discretion. Intimacy ensued. Also redacted.

END OF AVAILABLE TRANSCRIPT. ADDT'L NOTE: REQUESTING TO BE MOVED OUT OF SURVEILLANCE DIVISON ASAP.

📓 Therapy session notes filed by Dr. Boo Seungkwan, licensed psychiatrist affiliated with ████████ Syndicate

SESSION: 3rd of prescribed 10-week cycle

INITIAL OBSERVATIONS: Patient arrived precisely on time, wearing a tailored black suit, slightly wrinkled as though he'd been pacing before arrival. Hair unkempt, hands clenched for most of the session. Eyes noticeably tired. Declined water. Brought a half-eaten bag of gummy bears, claiming "They calm me down. She likes them too."

Presented with guarded posture, alternating between overconfidence and sudden emotional vulnerability. Exhibits hallmark signs of high-functioning control dependence, paired with emotional suppression and limited interpersonal processing tools.

SESSION THEMES

1. Obsession with Control: Patient admits to bugging the civilian target’s apartment ("It was for her safety") and maintaining a detailed log of her daily habits. Claims these measures are a form of care. When asked what he fears would happen without this control, he replied, "She might stop needing me."

Expressed frustration when civilian target expressed autonomy: "She does things without telling me. Like she has a life or something." Tone was sarcastic but undercut with genuine confusion.

2. Difficulty Processing Emotions

Patient struggles to name his emotions beyond anger and protectiveness. When prompted to describe how he feels when civilian target smiles at him, he paused for 47 seconds before muttering: "Like I'm about to combust, but in a good way?"

Displays discomfort with perceived emotional weakness. Used humor and territorial possessiveness to deflect.

Quote: "She called me emotionally constipated. That's unfair. I feel things. I just don't show them. I'm not a chihuahua in a sweater." (Analogy unclear.)

3. Devotion to Civilian Target

His attachment is intense and deeply internalized. He referenced at least eight specific events he organized to make her life easier, ranging from "tailoring suit lapels for better hugs" to "funding her aunt’s gluten-free hobby."

Refers to her as "the only thing that makes me think twice before pulling a trigger."

Appears to be undergoing identity shift: from feared mafia boss to a man attempting—often poorly—to be emotionally available. Indicates willingness to grow, albeit via unconventional and often unhinged methods.

Notable Quote: "I don't know what being a boyfriend means. But if it means checking all her windows are locked and ordering her ice cream from Italy when she's sad, then I'm already trying."

TREATMENT PLAN

Begin cognitive restructuring around concepts of emotional intimacy vs. surveillance.

Introduce grounding techniques for obsessive behaviors.

Assign weekly "emotional vocabulary" journaling.

Strongly recommend cessation of all illegal tracking devices.

PROGNOSIS: Patient displays exceptional loyalty, obsessive commitment, and a deep desire to improve for the sake of the civilian target. Progress will be slow, as foundational emotional processing tools are underdeveloped. However, signs of potential are present.

Patient left session saying, "Don't tell her I cried. But also, maybe do. I don't know. What would make her like me more?" Then insisted that I forward these notes to her, threatening to cease sessions otherwise. Will have to consult with mafia leadership.

DIAGNOSIS: High-functioning attachment disorder with control dependency and romantic maladjustment. Currently treating with compassion, sarcasm, and an iron will.

NEXT SESSION SCHEDULED: ████████

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[staranghae]

this was surprisingly accurate lol

not able to tag ppl due to trashy internet lmao

[staranghae]

it wasn't your car...

summary : his car isn't yours by wendy. that's the summary. here, go listen to it.

pairing: l.sm x reader genre: exes to lovers warnings: chan slander (im sorry), mentions of making out(?), mention of drinking/drunk people, crying *i think that's about it but if i missed any pls let me know* word count: 800+

that's all lee seokmin was supposed to be. a summer fling.

but instead, the last few days of your vacation were possibly the worst days of your whole life. days that were supposed to spent lounging with him in the pool were spent fighting about your relationship.

it started when he admitted he was in love with you. you weren't ready for something serious then and you said the same to him to which he said he would wait for you. you frankly thought it was ridiculous that he had fallen for you in the span of a month. no one can love someone within a month of knowing them. or can they?

which brings you to now, standing in front of the open door of the passenger seat of your date's black maserati.

the same car you had spent a month driving around and making out in.

the same car that had pulled up to your vacation house every friday at 8pm on the dot to take you on a date.

the same car in which you're about to go on a blind date in now, just to forget about him. because, contrary to your beliefs, it is possible to fall in love with someone within a month. like how you had fallen for seokmin.

you're shaken out of your trance by your date's voice,

"y/n-ssi, are you getting in?"

by the time you look at him, he's standing near the driver's door, waiting for you to get in,

"we'll be late for our reservation if we don't leave right now so..."

you look at him one last time before getting in and willing yourself to forget about butterfly kisses in late afternoons and the enigma that is lee seokmin.

you get through the dinner with little effort. you date, whose name you learn is lee chan, cannot stop talking for the life of him. you're glad for it though, because it means you can zone out and daydream about what could have been with seokmin. eventually, the dinner ends. he pays like the gentleman he is and offers to drive back since it's quite late.

you check the time. 1am. you say yes to the offer despite not wanting to but trying to get a cab would be worse that listening to someone talk about how good of a dancer they are for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

you get home around an hour later and are shell-shocked at the sight in front of you.

lee seokmin, sitting (well, sleeping) on your front porch, with a huge bouquet of carnations and violets in his hand and a letter in the other.

you turn to chan. he looks at you concerned and offers to walk you in, mistaking seokmin for a drunk person who just got the wrong house.

you tell him that it won't be a problem and manage to get him out of your hair before he tries asking about a second date.

you walk up to him and shake him awake. he blinks a few times before turning to look at you. it's almost magnetic, how he reaches out to cup your cheek in the palm of his hand. he pulls back before he actually touches you, though, scared you might run away again.

he stands up and clears his throat before he starts talking, "i know you don't want anything to do with me but i-"

you cut him off before he can finish, "that's not true, minnie..."

minnie. a nickname you got accustomed to in the course of your relationship. a nickname you had tried so hard to forget over the course of the past few days. a nickname that came to you as easily as breathing.

he blinks at you, a little confused. "what do you mean?"

you have to look away from him before you speak, in fear that you may start crying if you had to maintain eye contact with him,

"i mean, i do want something with you. with us."

seokmin breaks first. sobbing his heart out as he stands up to engulf you in a hug. you've hug him back with silent tears streaming down your face.

he pulls away after a few minutes, eyes rimmed red and looks at you. like, really looks at you. the way your features are aligned perfectly on you, the way you're quite literally tailor made for him, and him for you. he also notices you actively trying to avoid meeting his eyes

he simply chuckles at your behaviour, before talking,

"what am i going to do with you?"

you finally find the courage to look up at him,

"you, lee seokmin, are going to be my boyfriend"

seokmin swears he sees a halo on your head. you laugh at him because of course he would say something that corny with a straight face.

yeah, you'll be alright.

a/n: someone teach me how to end fics, please and thanks :) also, look whose free from the prison of writer's block heh

staranghae.writing®

[staranghae]

the perfect way to spend christmas

summary. jihoon really wants his first christmas with you to be perfect

pairing. loverboy! l.jh x fem! reader genre. new relationship, fluff, crack warnings. seokmin being seokmin, jihoon threatens them but its lighthearted(?) wc. 786 a/n. my first work on here after a while for @k-films advent calender event. also, my first (and possibly only) work where profanity isn't a warning lmao. anygays, enjoy down bad loverboy jihoon <3 mwah mwah merry christmas and happy new years. p.s: check out the masterlist for the event here!

the last thing soonyoung expects to see when he enters his shared apartment with jihoon are christmas decorations.

jihoon putting up a plant smack dab in the middle of the kitchen, to be exact.

"when i told you to decorate for the party, i didn't expect you to go all out like this!", soonyoung exclaims, while placing the bags of food and alcohol on the counter.

"well, this is my first christmas after getting with y/n so it's only appropriate i go all out, especially since we're hosting."

jihoon replies, almost shyly, as he continues taping the mystery plant to the ceiling.

soonyoung merely laughs at his friend. in all honesty, he was somewhat of a cupid in getting the two of you to go out with each other, owing to his balbbermouth tendencies when drunk, exposing jihoon's long term crush on you.

"well. make sure you don't end up putting any mistletoes in there lest seokmin tries to make out with you."

"again." soonyoung adds after a beat.

jihoon's face scrunches up at the thought. they really did not need a repeat of the great disaster '22. he's about to retort when the doorbell rings, signalling the first guest had arrived.

soonyoung gets the door as jihoon cleans up in the kitchen. he can tell by the chaos happening in the doorway that seokmin and seungkwan were the first two to arrive.

he finishes up and goes to greet them. seokmin immediately tackles him into a hug which he reciprocates while the other two tease him about how he broke seokmin's heart by going out with you.

amidst the teasing, the doorbell rings a second time and jihoon finds himself hoping that's it's you behind the door.

the door opens to reveal mingyu and minghao and jihoon is almost disappointed when he catches sight of you behind mingyu's broad frame.

he doesn't even stop to consider the consequences when he shoves walks past mingyu to, quite literally, engulf you in a hug. he only registers what he's done when he hears the hooting and cheering of the members behind him and sees the shell shocked face of seungcheol who had walked up right behind you and mingyu.

he retreats from the hug, embarassed. meanwhile, you were left with a lingering warmth that had gone as fast as it had come.

"well, at least someone exists here who can make the lee jihoon himself lose control." jokes seungcheol as he enters the apartment.

"we'll give you guys some privacy for now," says minghao, leaving the two of you in the doorway, red faced and flustered.

jihoon breaks the ice first,

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"it's fine, hoon. really. it was actually kinda cute."

"of all the things you could've called me, cute?!" jihoon feigns offense. you giggle at his antics and jihoon swears he could die right now. he notices the bag in your hands and gives you a questioning look.

"cupcakes, for the party." you clarify.

jihoon thanks every being in the universe for giving him the oppurtunity to say what he did,

"let's go to the kitchen and open them, they smell delicious."

you nod excitedly and walk towards the kitchen as jihoon follows.

unbeknownst to you, he silently threatens to do unspeakable things to his friends if they so much so as looked at the two of you while you were in the kitchen

you hum to yourself as you start to open the box of cupcakes when jihoon walks up behind you. you're about to tease him about being oh so obsessed with you when he utters a single word while pointing upwards

"mistletoe"

you look up at the ceiling and sure enough, a dainty little mistletoe is taped to the surface, albeit a little haphazardly. you look back at jihoon. your eyes flit between the mistletoe and jihoon's face.

jihoon can see the gears turning in your head about the possibilities of one of his idiot friends walking in.

"relax, none of them are coming anywhere near us, i assure you."

the tone he uses leaves no room for any buts or what ifs. so you don't ask any and instead opt to kiss him as hard as you can.

he stumbles back a little because of the impact but gains his footing fast enough to wrap his arms around your waist to kiss you back with the same fervor, if not harder.

the two of you end up so lost in each other, you don't even hear the other three holding seokmin down as he yells "me next".

'what a perfect way to spend his first christmas with the woman of his dreams' is last coherent thought that flashes through jihoon's mind before he loses himself in you again.

[staranghae]

[3:17 AM]

summary. yoon jeonghan is like art in a museum. look don't touch kinda deal. so, what happens when your idiot best friend dares you to kiss him during a drunken game of truth and dare? let's find out...

pairing. jock! y.jh x reader wc. 1k warnings. mentions of murder (lighthearted), profanity, bestie! mingyu genre. fluffy fluff, jeonghan is very aditya kashyap coded in this. a/n. requested by a lovely anon! this feels so cliche but I love cliches so here you go! hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

you were going to murder kim mingyu one of these days.

your head hadn't even hit the pillow after your designated midnight 'talk' with him that he had gone and woken up the rest of the dorm to play a game of truth or dare.

you had agreed, strictly telling him that you would be staying for only one round of the game. a girl needs her beauty sleep after all.

what started as one single round with barely 5 people from dorm was now going strong on round 5 with all 17 people in the dorm sitting on the floor in varying stages of drunkenness, save for a few who were still sober, including you and yoon jeonghan.

yoon jeonghan, the captain of the soccer team and also the guy you've been crushing on since high school. by pure coincidence, the two of you ended up in the same university and in the same major AND in the same friend group! it truly felt like the universe was on your side with this one.

your fantasies were interrupted by the shrill sound of someone mingyu squealing. you looked to find the cause of his sudden excitement only to find the bottle had landed on you. you looked back up at him only to find him staring at you, a sinister glint in his eyes. with an overly saccharine tone, he asks you,

"y/nie, truth or dare? you have to pick dare by the way, you picked truth twice in a row already so."

"then why'd you ask the question, dipshit?"

you heard a low chuckle come from your side. you look to find the source of the sound, only to see jeonghan looking at you. your staring contest is abruptly ended by the sound of mingyu aggressively clearing his throat..

"so, y/nie, your dare is..." he looks around the room, trying to find a dare for you to do. his wandering eyes finally land on him.

"your dare is... kiss the person sitting on your right! and a proper kiss, not just a peck." he says while the circle starts cheering at his dare.

to others, the cheering might seem unnecessary but there's some context behind this. context being, the guy sitting on you right is yoon jeonghan. despite his whole jock persona, jeonghan is a strict one-woman man. and kissing people for dares is not a thing he does. not even if he's single.

so, knowing him, you don't even bother to ask him before reaching for your drink. the group starts boo-ing at you as you lift the cup.

all at once, someone is snatching the cup from your hands while simultaneously pulling you back into their lap. you look behind you, only to find yoon jeonghan staring at you with a smirk gracing his lips.

you scramble to get off his lap, but he effortlessly manhandles you into facing him and for a moment, it's just you and him. he moves a lock of hair behind your ear and asks you quietly,

"do you hate me that much?"

you feel like a fucking teenager all over again, sputtering and stuttering out an answer,

"n-no, it's just that... you don't do st-stuff like this."

"stuff like what?"

"kissing people for dares kinda stuff."

he looks confused at your statement. and his hands, still on your waist, aren't exactly helping you give him an answer. you muster up every last ounce of confidence in your body and tell him,

"jeonghan, the entire university knows about your 'one-woman man' agenda. you've never kissed a girl for a dare, ever."

he blanks for a second before laughing. not a giggle or a chuckle, but a full out laugh. everyone else in the room is extremely confused at his sudden burst of laughter, the two of you had been conversing in hushed voices and whispers, and now he was laughing?

you look at him incredulously, a little offended at his sudden burst of laughter. he looks at you through teary eyes and immediately stops laughing. amidst the chaos, he asks you a question,

"y/n, did you, maybe, ever consider the possibility of you being my one-woman?"

you visibly malfunction at his question. you get off his lap and go outside the dorm to the patio to clear your head. you don't see jeonghan get up and run after you.

the two of you stand in silence until you decide to break the ice,

"since when?"

he looks at you before sighing heavily, "since freshman year, i think?"

"of university? so 4 years!"

he shakes his head.

"of high school. so... 8 years, actually," he says with a small smile.

you stare at him, wide eyed and completely thrown off your axis. he's liked you longer than you've liked him? actually, you only knew of his existence in sophomore year, so he's liked you since before you knew he existed?!

lost in your thoughts you don't see him come closer to you.

"y/n."

you look up at his call of your name only to find him standing right in front of him. like close enough that your lips could touch if you stood upright. he looks down at you with a soft gaze and informs you,

"we still didn't finish the dare."

you look up at him and then look to the door, when your classmates were peeking as though you wouldn't have seen then from a mile away

in an attempt to be petty and still do the dare, despite your current predicament, you grab jeonghan by the collar of his shirt and pull him down to meet him halfway.

jeonghan, despite his initial shock at your sudden move, immediately kisses you back, his hands finding solace on your waist.

the entire dorm erupts in hoots and cheers, successfully resulting in the faculty dorm waking up.

jeonghan just laughs and tugs you back into the dorm, straight onto his bed. the two of you end up in each other's arms, laughing and happy. as the two of you drift off to dreamland, you only have one thing on your mind.

maybe you owe mingyu a blind date with one of your friends for his efforts.

[staranghae]

better than the movies

summary. a new love blossoms between two people who could not be more different from each other. and no seungkwan, it is not because of your self-proclaimed 'stellar cupid skills', shut up!

pairing. cinephile! c.hs x bookworm! reader wc. 1.1k warnings. profanity, agggtm and its two sequels are movies in this. genre. crack, fluff, non-idol! au, intentional lowercase. a/n. this was requested by one of my very lovely moots and was a blast to write. @nonononranghaee hope you like it 🤍

you were browsing through the shelves of your local library looking for the sequel of the novel you had finished that afternoon.

you were growing increasingly desperate as you browsed shelf after shelf of the literature section but to no avail.

tired and miserable, you dragged yourself over to the librarian and asked her about the book,

"hello, do you have a copy of 'good girl, bad blood' by holly jackson?"

the librarian glances at you before going to her computer and looking through the library's online database. she turns to you with an apologetic smile before informing you the tragic news,

"i'm so sorry darling but someone checked it out just this morning."

your face visibly falls at her statement. the librarian, feeling a bit sorry for you, asks,

"i can put it on hold for you when it gets back if you'd like?"

you give her a somber smile before nodding your head.

you turn to leave but recall an incident that had taken place a few weeks ago at your place.

"seungkwan i swear to every god in the universe, if you don't give my book back i will suffocate you in your sleep, you sneaky little bitch!" you yell, chasing your best friend around your apartment as he maneuvers around your furniture, waving your book in the air.

he finally stops, standing on your futon while holding the book above his head and out of your reach.

"y/n listen. the deal is simple. agree to go on a blind date and i'll give you the book back. easy, right?"

you look at him incredulously before climbing on the futon and kicking him in the shin. not too hard, just enough so his knees would buckle. he immediately drops your book in favour of inspecting his now injured shin.

"this is what happens when you play with fire kwan. now i have a book to finish so get out!"

he mumbles something about 'stealing the sequel' before slamming your door shut on his way out.

you turn on your heel and go back to the librarian's desk. mustering up your courage, you ask her,

"may i know who checked it out? in case it's someone i know?"

she looks at you, a little confused, before turning to her computer. a few seconds later, she reads off of the screen,

"it seems a person by the name of 'boo seungkwan' has borrowed this book."

you chuckle under your breath, thank her, and storm out of the library furiously typing on your phone.

y/nie boo seungkwan!! when i fucking get you, its soo over for u. kwangerine y/n! what's got you like this at....2:13pm? y/nie idk kwan :| maybe it's the fact that you checked out the sequel to my book from the library:/ kwangerine ah so you found out :D welp, if you want it, come to heaven's cloud at 5:30 hehehe y/nie gremlin ass kwangerine :P

you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time today.

as you start walking towards your apartment, you make a mental note of everything you have to do today.

first, you have to pick up the laundry on the way to your apartment.

then, you have to go to heaven's cloud to murder seungkwan get your book back.

once back in your apartment, you decide to change before heading out to heaven's cloud. it wouldn't a very nice impression of you to go to your best friend's cafe clad in a concert tee and sweatpants.

you change into a dress and put on some light makeup before heading out.

the smell of coffee and vanilla envelops you as soon as you step into heaven's cloud cafe. you look around for seungkwan, but don't spot him.

but you DO spot his roommate, sitting in seungkwan's favourite spot holding your book, looking a bit...nervous?

you walk up to him and stand in front of him. when he doesn't notice you, you call him,

"vernon? did seungkwan send you?"

"y/n? you look...nice."

"thanks? you still haven't answered my question?"

he laughs a bit before gesturing for you to sit down. you sit in front of him as he starts to talk,

"so what happened is, i was watching the 'a good girl's guide to murder' movie right? seungkwan came in mumbling something about you being to engrossed in books to even have a social life."

you just roll your eyes at the perfect description of your best friend before telling him to continue.

"and then he looks at me and starts going off about how we're exactly like each other but also exact opposites."

"as in? what does that mean?"

"as in i wouldn't read a book to save my life and according to him, you would only watch a movie over your dead body. and-"

you interrupt him, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

"-and also. i'm a huge bookworm and you're a...movie connoisseur?"

he chuckles before answering you,

"well, the term is cinephile but yeah. a movie connoisseur of sorts."

"yeah whatever. and seungkwan thought it would be good idea to pull whatever he pulled and make this a date. am i right?"

he freezes up a bit before nodding slowly. you, on the other hand, did not know what to feel. had seungkwan done this because of how many times you had gushed to him whenever there was a opposites attract trope in your cheesy little romance novels, or had he finally figured out your yearlong crush on his extremely attractive roommate?

it is only after you finally look at vernon do you realise he had asked you a question. you smile sheepishly while asking him to repeat the question because you hadn't been paying attention.

he merely chuckles before repeating his question,

"were you not aware this was a date? because seungkwan told me you knew."

"nope. didn't have a clue."

"ah. you can leave if you want, i don't really mind."

you feel a pang of disappointment in your chest at his statement. you take a deep breath and work up the courage to ask him the one question you've been meaning to ask him for the past year.

"vernon. do you, perhaps, like me? like, romantically?'

vernon all but spits out his drink at your sudden question (or was it a confession?)

he regains his composure before answering you,

"yeah! i mean, yes uhm, i have liked you, for like, uhh a year at this point i think."

you audibly laugh at his stuttering and ask him the million dollar question.

"do you want this date to go on?"

sure, but only if we can go back to my place so i can tell you why the movie is better than the book."

"that is, quite literally, impossible but sure, also only if i can tell you, factually, that the book is always, and i mean always, better than the movies."

the two of you laugh at your statement and continue with the date. a few tables behind you guys, there was a very pleased human cupid sipping on his iced americano, eavesdropping on your guys' conversation every so often.

[staranghae]

@thepoopdokyeomtouched

pizza delivery!

summary. when a pizza delivery goes to the wrong address, you don't expect to end it with a date with one lee jihoon

pairing. fan! reader x idol producer! l.jh wc. 1.2k warnings. profanity, suggestive jokes genre. fluff, crack, y/n is done with yunjin, seungcheol is (slightly) irritated a/n. i got a bit carried away with seungcheol's rant.

"huh yunjin, you fucking moron! this is the FOURTH time you've had our food sent to your old apartment." you yell into your phone. huh yunjin was your best friend and roommate who had recently moved in with you, that is if you counted 3 months ago as recent.

and in those 3 months, you had ordered takeout a grand total of six times, four out of which had been sent to her old apartment. it was only fair that you were mad at her.

the first time it had happened, you had driven yourself up a wall thinking someone would take the food since it was already paid for. thankfully, her old apartment was only a 5 minute walk from your current one so she had offered to go get it, befriending the new owner of the apartment in the process.

now here you were, sitting with Don't Lie 3 queued up on your laptop waiting for your food and roommate to arrive. as if on cue, you hear the keypad beep and yunjin bursts in with her hands full.

you glare at her as she sits down and starts telling you about her latest conversation with the new owner.

"apparently, he's a music producer. that's your type, right? d'you wan' me to set you up with him?" yunjin asks while inhaling her fried chicken.

"what i want is for you to STOP SENDING OUR FOOD TO HIM, YOU IDIOT!"

"okay, jeez. it was a suggestion."

"this is also a suggestion."

yunjin glares at you while you look at her with a mocking smile. the two of you finish eating and decide to finish the episode before going to sleep.

--

the next time the delivery mishap happens, which was inevitable in your opinion, you are the one going to pick up your pizza from yunjin's old apartment. because leave it to yunjin to remember a family dinner a whole 15 minutes after placing the order for dinner.

the weather was bit chilly so you decided to wear your favourite windbreaker, the one with 'universe factory' embroidered on the back. it was the name of your favourite producer's studio.

you reached the location and double-checked the address yunjin had texted you to make sure you didn't end up at the wrong house.

"right, 2nd floor, door number 17, that seems about right." you mutter to yourself while climbing up the stairs.

once you reached the second floor, you fumbled around a bit before you landed right in front of the shiny '17' engraved on a door. you contemplated sitting in the stairwell in order to not look like a stalker to literally anyone who might pass by you, but the fear of your pizza going missing kept you rooted to the spot in front of the door.

with nothing better to do, you decided to call yunjin to check if her family dinner was over. she picks up on the second ring.

"y/n! did you get the pizza yet?"

"nope, not yet. also, who did you say lived here again? i do NOT want to be labeled a stalke-"

you're interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

"jinnie, i'll call you back." is the last thing you say before you hang up in yunjin and turn around only to be met with a fuming choi seungcheol. yes. choi seungcheol. as in seventeen's leader choi seungcheol. as in s.coups choi seungcheol. before you can get a word in, he starts yelling calmly talking,

"do you realise stalking us won't make you any better as fans, in fact, it disgusts me that people like you have the audacity to call yourselves our fans! calling us in the middle of livestreams is one thing, but showing up at our literal doorsteps is a new low, even for you anti-fans, honestly, when will you guys learn about bounda-"

"pizza delivery for ms. l/n y/n?"

you don't hear what the delivery boy says, hell, you don't even hear him call out your name in the first place, to terrified to move when someone else starts to speak.

"so, you must be yunjin's roommate."

you finally shake yourself out of your stupor and look at the person who came to your defence, only to be met with a warm smile on his face and an extended hand,

"hi, i'm woozi. i'm assuming you already know who i am so i'll spare the introduction. i'm sorry about him, it's just that we had a few livestreams today and people kept calling so he's a little pissed."

you shake your head and finally turn to seungcheol, who looks absolutely mortified. you brush past him to go get your pizza when he comes up to you, crimson blush covering his face

"i am so sorry for that. i shouldn't have done that but it's just that work a little hectic and these calls didn't make it any better and i know that does not excuse the way i treated you just now so i'm so so-"

"it's fine. it happens."

you manage to find your voice in the time that seungcheol was rambling. you finally find the courage to look at him and keep talking,

"i'm a cop. i work in the cyber crime department and tracking down stalkers is part of my daily job so i know how frustrating it gets so don't worry about it." you finish with a smile.

seungcheol flashes you one of his signature dimple smiles and turns to his members. he ushers them all inside but woozi lingers in the hallway. you don't notice him in your attempt to stack the pizza boxes the way the delivery guy had to take it to your apartment. you hear a faint chuckle behind you and turn around to see him laughing at your misery. before you can think, you blurt out,

"this isn't very idol-like of you y'know?"

"what isn't?"

"this. standing there laughing at me instead of helping."

"d'you want me to help?"

"obviously!" you roll your eyes at him. how he had managed to be your bias for well over 8 years is still a mystery to you.

"you're just like how yunjin told me you'd be" he says with a chuckle while walking over to you to help with the boxes.

"oh yeah? and what did she tell you?" you ask, a little curious. if it was something scandalous, you were going to murder her. she did live in your apartment after all.

"she said that you were my type. and she was right." he says with a shrug, as if that sentence didn't throw you off axis the second it left his mouth. he giggles at your reaction. you think of something and before you lose the adrenaline rush coursing through you, you tell him,

"how about this? since you helped me with this, let me take you on a date."

"a date?"

"yeah. a date. a chance for you to get to know me as y/n rather than yunjin's roommate and for me to get to know you as jihoon rather than woozi."

you almost miss the small smile and slight blush that grace his face before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"so, i need have your number right? to contact you about when and where and stuff."

you take his phone and type in your contact details. you then thank him and leave with the pizza.

for once, you aren't mad yunjin sent your food the wrong address. funny how fate works, huh?

i still can't end a fic like a normal person. n e way, per usual

comments and reblogs are much appreciated and consider buying me a coffee if you enjoyed the fic.

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[staranghae]

ur jeonghan fic... im freakinf out its so good

do u have a taglist by any chance??

wooahae

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LOVING THAT FICCC

AND YESSSSS I DO HAVE A TAGLIST, HERE!

ilysm 🩷🩷🩷🩷

[staranghae]

baby you drive me crazy

summary. seokmin and reader meet at a young changemakers convention because that's how filthy rich people have meet-cutes. :)

pairing. nepo kid ceo! l.sm x self-made ceo! fem! reader genre. fluff, crack., meet-cute warnings. profanity, mentions of alchohol w/c. 1.4k a/n. ah yes. finely marinated fanfiction, delicious. ( i mean this in all seriousness, this has been in my drafts since august of last year so...) song recc. unlock it (lock it) by charli xcx and jay park

seokmin really needed to start finding better ways to get out of these events. his age old excuse of "there's a really important project for the quarter due in a few weeks and i'm utterly clueless about it" was starting to wear thin considering the fact that half of these parties happen towards the end of the year when his company has already wrapped up their projects.

but then, this particular convention didn't seem like the rest. it was the annual "young changemakers" convention, his first one since he took over the company. he'd talked to a grand total of six people his age in the few hours he'd been there, and all of them had done nothing but brag about their money and wealth! not one of them seemed actually interested in the business aspect of the well, you know, running a business. to seokmin, this was better than being surrounded by a bunch of middle-aged people asking very invasive questions about his private life.

as he kept wandering about the convention, making small talk here and there with a few familiar faces, he spots you, sitting on one of the corner tables nursing a glass of chardonnay. he quickly calls over his secretary,

"minghao, come here. i need you to do something for me."

xu minghao, seokmin's secretary of the past seven years, was quite accustomed to his boss' peculiar requests. despite being the same age, minghao was far more perceptive and mature as compared to seokmin. he finishes off his glass of wine and walks over, exasperated.

"yes sir, what is it?"

"do you happen to have any idea of who that is?" he says, pointing to you.

minghao looks over at you and back at seokmin.

"are you seriously telling me you have no idea who she is?" questions minghao, annoyed by his boss' lack of ability to remember crucial information during networking events such as this one.

seokmin looks over at him, completely clueless about your identity.

minghao answers with a sigh,

"that's y/n, the ceo of l/n enterprises. i specifically mentioned her to you because she's the only person here without a family business. her company was completely built by her and her alone. also, her achievements are exemplary, she made the dean's list at harvard and is one of our major shareholders so technically speaking, she's kinda like your boss."

seokmin blinks at him. "in commoner words, please?"

"basically, she's the only one here who isn't a damn nepo baby and happens to own a good chunk of our company."

"ah! got it."

"so if i'm done here, i will take my leave."

minghao turns on his heel and leaves before seokmin has the chance to say anything. he just chuckles to himself and starts walking towards you when he hears minghao call after him,

"also, i didn't tell you this but your father has been trying to set up a blind date with her for you. something about you being incapable of making her fall for you on your own or something."

now, more determined than ever, he walks over to you and sits down across you.

"hi, i'm seokmin, ceo of lee enterprises, and you are?"

"y/n, your blind date for tomorrow evening. although i'm guessing your father hasn't told you about it yet."

he looks away, flustered. you laugh and he might as well have gotten whiplash with how fast he turned his head to look at you.

"he might've. i get quite a few of those, so i tend to lose track."

you stare at him incredulously. you knew about him from your uni days, the only nepo kid in oxford business that gave a fuck about his academics enough to make it onto the dean's list. now, here he was, sitting in front of you, looking and acting every bit the cocky brat you didn't expect him to be. you voice this thought out loud,

"i didn't expect someone who ended up on the dean's list at oxford to act like this but apparently, appearences can be deceiving after all"

seokmin visibly lights up at the mention of the dean's list. you see, only a handful of people actually bothered to find out about him as a person rather than as just an extension of his father and lee enterprises. so, when someone generally tried finding out about him, the dean's list was one of the first things that would pop up.

"you know about the dean's list at oxford business?"

you roll your eyes, "well yeah, obviously! we were required to know who we would be competing against in the industry so we had to find out about the dean's list of most ivy league b-schools"

seokmin has never admired someone as much as he admires you in that exact moment.

"so, about that date..."

you look at him over the rim of your wine glass, "what about it?"

seokmin can't believe it. he's about to ask someone out on a date. like a normal person.

"um, well, instead of, y'know, letting my dad decide the time and place and everything, i was wondering if i could take you out. as lee seokmin, business nerd, not as lee seokmin, ceo."

you chuckle at his description of himself.

"business nerd?" that's an interesting nickname to give yourself."

"i didn't give it to myself, my best friend did. we weren't in the same university but that didn't stop us from being absolute headaches to each other from opposite ends of the world."

"best friend? is it someone in the industry or..?"

"oh, he's the heir to jeon and kim associates."

you've heard the name before. jeon & kim.

"wait, is your friend mingyu?"

seokmin is surprised at the mention. he nods excitedly, looking like an eager poodle.

"d'you know him?"

"know him?! i studied with him! the two of us always partnered up for group projects because we meshed so well together," as you're rattling off about your memories with mingyu to seokmin, you remember it.

"WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! YOU'RE MINNIE?!"

seokmin snorts his soda at your sudden outburst. he's still coughing and sputtering as you apologise to the people who had turned around to stare at you while passing him tissues to clean himself up. once everything is back into the lull it was in previously, you elaborate,

"you're minnie, right?"

seokmin recalls his friend constantly calling him that when on call with him so he nods, a wave of nostalgia washing over him at the fond memories. he really needs to catch up with gyu soon. maybe he could get minghao to set up a meeti-

"i always thought he was talking about his girlfriend whenever he talked about 'minnie'. turns out it was you, huh? funny."

seokmin pauses mid-sip to give you a look that says 'are you kidding me?'

"okay, first of all, he already had a girlfriend when he was in college to whom he got married to last month. secondly, if the two of you are so close, then how come i didn't see you at the wedding, huh?"

"probably because i was the maid of honour and busy making sure it was perfect, but y'know, who cares."

seokmin vividly remembers the maid of honour at mingyu's wedding. and it was not you.

"okay, i remember that day really well and know for a fact that the maid of honour had red hair, and you don't."

"ever heard of hair dye, seokmin?" you reply dryly.

seokmin lets out a laugh at that and you become mesmerised for a moment because wow! how is a person so pretty and handsome and smart at the same time?

finally out of things to talk about, you and seokmin look around the room, trying to find something to keep the conversation going. seokmin gives up first, finally asking the million dollar question,

"d'you wanna get out of here? i'm honestly just bored at this point."

you look back at him with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes,

"you wanna go on that blind date right now? the food here isn't all that great and i know a really good seafood place nearby."

seokmin could really go for some seafood right about now. he nods and gets up from the table, and you follow suit. the two of you manage to make it out undetected, much to the disappointment of your secretaries, who only find out about your escapade through the headline of the dispatch article released the next day.

"Mated for life or just another fish in the sea? CEOs of L/N Enterprises and Lee Enterprises spotted on a romantic date at seafood restaurant."

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[staranghae]

starry eyes (sparkin' up my darkest nights)

summary. reader is slandered left and right for being a self made woman. cue possessive seungcheol wanting to go public with their relationship. based off of taylor swift's 'call it what you want'

pairing: ceo! c.sc x ceo! fem! reader

genre: fluff, established but secret relationship, hurt comfort, possessive! coups heh

warnings: profanity, misogyny, mentions of strippers, food mentions, lmk if i missed any :)

a/n: here it is... there's plenty more where that came from. also, take a shot every time you read the word reporters lol.

"Y/N of L/N Enterprises caught in yet another scandal! Earned her place or just another Nepo baby?"

another day, another scandal. you heave a sigh and toss your phone aside. not that this was anything new but it wasn't exactly something you wanted to see the second you woke up.

you're interuppted out of your thoughts by your boyfriend pulling you back into bed with him.

"cheol, let go of me! i'm late already! and next thing you know, there's a headline about me being late."

seungcheol looks at you in confusion. why are you yelling at him about getting to work on time at 7am on a sunday?

"darling, first of all, it's 7 am so you have 3 hours till you have to go and also, it's sunday so you don't have work."

you pick up your previously abandoned phone and check the date and sure enough, it's a sunday. you let out a breathless laugh before crawling back into bed. seungcheol just chuckles as he wraps his arms around you.

***

you wake up to your phone going off with notifications. you sit up, still in a haze, and check your phone.

'Former CEO of L/N Enterprises releases statement regarding Ms. Y/N's appointement as CEO : "She's easier than a stripper" and other shocking revelations!'

the headline shocks you so much, you don't even register your phone crashing onto the floor. seungcheol hears the crash and rushes to get to you.

"what happened?! are you okay?!"

you wordlessly pick up your phone and hand it to him, he's confused but reads the headline.

he's positively seething at the absolute bullshit the former ceo of your company has spewed out in the article.

"the fucking audacity of that motherfucker! does he not realise you could sue him and win?! this is defamation and sexual harassment, he could be in jail for yea-"

he's cutoff by a particularly loud sob. he looks away from the phone to see you on the floor, sobbing your heart out.

seungcheol swears he can hear his heart shatter when he takes you into his arms and tells you let it all out.

both of you lose track of how long you sit there, you crying out the frustrations of the past few years and him trying his hardest not to cry. by the time you feel better, your stomach is cramping in hunger.

"cheol, i'm hungry"

seungcheol isn't looking st you, busy ordering food, but he can still feel the whine in your tone and the pout on your face. he just chuckles and tells you he ordered burgers, fries and vanilla milkshakes - your comfort combo. you find yourself wondering what you did in your past life to be with someone as amazing as him. but what he asks you next shocks you harder than the news,

"y/n, do you want to go public with our relationship?"

your initial knee jerk would have been to reject his offer because god forbid his perfect reputation is ruined because of you. but now, you don't think you can take more of this slander against you all alone. so, albeit reluctantly, you say yes to offer.

seungcheol honest to god thinks he heard you wrong when you say yes. the moment he gets the confirmation that you had indeed accepted his offer of going public, he releases a statement from his company's official page and you have to stop yourself from asking him how long he had that statement written and ready.

the next day, you instruct your secretary to organise a press conference to clear up the rumours and do some basic damage control. right before you're about to leave the house, seungcheol stops you at the doorway. you look up at him and see him taking off his necklace. a one-of-a-kind custom piece he had gotten from his mother when he became the head of his company a few years ago. the one which he had mentioned in multiple interviews stating only one other person would have the honour of wearing it - his future wife. he hands it you,

"it's up to you if you wanna wear it as you go in, but i really want to see you wear it when you walk out of there," he says with a soft smile, dimples peeking through.

a few hours later, you step out of your car to flashing cameras nearly blinding you. you regain your footing almost immediately and strut your way into the convention centre.

the absolute silence compared to the chaos outside the venue is a welcome change. you go up to the stage and sit down, mentally preparing yourself for the invasive and disgusting questions you'll have to deal with in the next few hours. you speak into the mic,

"okay, i'm ready. does anyone want to start with the questions?"

a reporter stands up. you take a deep breath and get ready to defend yourself.

"are you engaged to mr. choi seungcheol of choi enterprises?"

wait, what? engaged? where did that question come from?

"i'm sorry, could you elaborate?" is the only thing you can bring yourself to say amidst your confusion.

"your necklace. mr. choi has mentioned it in multiple interviews and press meets, especially about it's significance and the only person allowed to wear it. so, are you engaged to him?"

you chuckle at her extensive explanation and start to speak,

"i would love be engaged to him someday but for now, we're just dating. we've been in a serious relationship for about five years now and i will not be entertaining any further questions about him or my relationship with him. this press meet was organised for the purpose of disspelling malicious rumours about me spread by the former ceo of l/n enterprises. if there are no questions about the same, i will take my leave."

the reporters, clearly affected by your threat, start clamouring for your attention. they start yellling out the questions, most of them wanting to know the same thing,

"are the rumours true?" and "if yes, what action is going to be taken against the former ceo?"

you tell your management to get the conference under control while you think about your answer. the meet comes back under control after a few minutes and you speak into the mic,

"the rumours are all false. i built that company from the ground up with no connections in the industry and my only support being my family and my partner, who later managed to start his own company as well. being a product of nepotism is far out of the question considering my family is from the countryside and none of them could have imagined this level of success from their only daughter. and as for the former ceo, my legal team is currently preparing to file a suit against him for verbal abuse, workplace harassment, sexual harassment, defamation and other violations as well. this is all the information i have been cleared to provide. thank you all for coming and have a nice day."

with that, you walk off the stage. the reporters crowd around you as you leave the venue, bombarding you with more questions about the lawsuit, and even more questions about seungcheol.

you try to avoid answering the questions as much as possible but finally relent, answering to a plethora of questions at once,

"all of you can call it what you want to but if there is one thing i'm sure about in my life, that is seungcheol."

the reporters go quiet all of a sudden. you finally look ahead to see him. seungcheol in nothing but a loose fitiing t-shirt and grey sweatpants, leaning against his car, holding a bouquet of roses, smiling at you.

the press abandons you in favour of questioning him about your relationship, all of which he ignores to give you the flowers and open your door for you.

once you're in the car, he moves to the other side and pushes throught the sea of reporters to get into the driver's seat and honks to get the reporters away from the car, still giving them the silent treatment.

once all of them move far enough, he fastens your seat belt for you and speeds off without a second glance at the people screaming behind him.

you notice that he isn't going towards either of your houses but whatever. if he asked you to run away with him, you would do so with no objections. after all, he was your lover and you were his.

for more, see the library!