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karinasbaby · 6 months

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𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — BED 박성훈

"strawberry lingerie, waiting for you strawberries, lingerie."

PAIRING: fiance!sunghoon x fem!reader (17+)

WARNING: pool sex, breath play, unprotected sex, creampie, marking, make out sessions, hickeys, cursing, petnames, lots of praising cuz he's in love, semi public sex?, slight shower sex, jealous & possessive hoon, jake makes a mini appearance, so does winter (aespa), and so does hee, my miserable attempt at angst & fluff, food play, oral (f), breeding, mentions of pregnancy and slight lactation kink, just nasty stuff.

WORD COUNT: 7.8k (what.)

SYNOPSIS: your fiance, sunghoon insisted on a "mini honeymoon" before your wedding preparations took over your time, so how would your day go now that you're on an island thousands of miles away from home with sunghoon?

A. NOTE: hey y'all.. surprise ! idk what this is either all that i know is that i've had this idea for months, anyways this is for all my hoon stans and babygirls i love you. (i apologise from the bottom of my heart for making jake a a fucking CREEP but someone had to be sacrifcied :( i love u jake <3)

"got a kiss with your name on it,"

you and sunghoon have been in a relationship for the past four years, being with sunghoon truly was a blessing as he was an incredibly understanding, attentive, caring and a very loving boyfriend.

to put it short he is a real sweetheart,

your personality mixed and clashed with his perfectly, time spent with sunghoon flew by without either of you noticing, it felt like you've known each other for decades though its only been a handful of years,

so when sunghoon finally proposed to you, practically everyone saw it coming from miles away, to the point where sunghoon had some 'finally!'s thrown into his congratulations from his friends and family after you broke down the elating news,

both of you were over the moon after his proposal as you two were officially together and were on the gates of being a newly wed couple where you both vow for life to each other,

and before both of you got distracted by the big day preparations, sunghoon so generously insisted on a 'mini honeymoon' before the stress and tiring days of the preparations swooped both of you away from each other for weeks, maybe even months.

which is how you found yourself in this predicament, pushing inside your suitcase after sunghoon's on the dark oak floors of the forest facing house that sunghoon rented for the rest of the week, taking in the dark and wooden interior along with the floor to ceiling windows that exposed the kitchen accompanied by the living room to the forest, you could also see a mini pool placed right outside the balcony,

before you could bring back your attention to your suitcase and explore the rooms, you felt a familiar pair of hands snaking around your waist, sunghoon's arms wrapped around you delicately, keeping you in a strong hold as he whispered into your ear, "like the view baby?"

"i love it," you whispered back, your eyes entranced by the view of the sunrise peeking behind the dark green leaves of the massive pine trees decorating the vast land of the forest in large masses, the sky being painted in multitude shades of pink and orange, each colour reflected off your face beautifully as sunghoon's loving eyes gazed at your pleased expression,

smiling happily at your words and satisfaction, he loved making you happy.

"go into the pool first, i'll join you in a minute, angel." he spoke against your ear before placing a gentle kiss onto your temple, his warm embrace untangling from around you, nodding at his words before walking towards the glass door, as you slid it open to allow the warm breeze to brush against your skin, you stripped completely before advancing into the lukewarm water, soft crystal ripples surrounding your frame while you edged towards the corner of the pool,

peering at the sunrise from the parted branches as the light mirrored against the surface of the water around you, your heart drummed against your chest as this was the first of many upcoming vacations that you were to venture out on alone with sunghoon, excitement bubbling in you at the possibility of all events that could unfold with your lover,

before your thoughts and imagination trailed further, you heard his footsteps approaching you, walking next to the pool as you took in his larger frame gazing at you, "what a sight to walk into," he breathed out while you chuckled at his words, signaling him to join you with a motion of your fingers making him waste no time in stripping himself bare, his hoodie and sweatpants along with underwear discarded carelessly around the balcony as he allowed your eyes to take him in all his glory,

the sight of his sculpted body bare for your eyes never failed to make you blush, sunghoon dipped into the water his body approaching yours in a blur, arms wrapping around your body as he closed off all possible space between the two of you, he breathed out a sigh of relief at the calming feeling of your body so close to his,

"i can't wait to spend the whole week with you, baby" he spoke out amidst him placing his head on your shoulder gently, your hands on instinct trailed around his shoulders, softly massaging his skin beneath your fingers while his lips brushed against your neck with each word,

his body heat making yours warmer in the cool water as you smiled at his words, "yeah? what are your plans?" replying back to him while you busied yourself with pulling at the shorter hairs along his nape faintly, "i'm keeping them as surprises" he responded while smiling, you paused your touches making him blink up at your faux pouting expression, "at least tell me one?" you asked, blinking through your eyelashes at him in hopes of convincing him, sunghoon rolled his eyes playfully before his gaze darkened,

his hold on your waist tightening whilst he pushed ever inch of his body against yours, "hold your breath for me, angel," he spoke lowly, inching his face closer to yours making you close your eyes as his lips brushed against yours, you breathed in a deep breath, following his words, "let's see how long you can last" was the last thing he spoke out before he dragged both of your bodies beneath the slightly cooled water,

goosebumps arose on your skin at the feeling of the colder water engulfing your body entirely contrasting the feeling of sunghoon's warmer body that he pressed against you, the moment both of you had sunk down, sunghoon dipped his head towards your lips, you held yourself from gasping out as his soft pillowy lips pressed firmly against yours,

sunghoon going far enough to teasingly lick your bottom lip, the lack of oxygen had your head spinning while he still held you beneath the water, clearly testing your limits as one of hands untied from your waist and began to delicately fondle your breast, his fingers brushing against your hardened nipple as he continued to taunt your body while you began to squirm in his hold,

seconds marched by as you felt a burning sensation spread over your chest while sunghoon's hand dipped lower, brushing pleasantly at your soaked folds, the feeling of his hands caressing and fondling your skin combined with the absence of air made your head spin, your dizziness increasing at the feeling of sunghoon's lips part from yours only to lower and bite at your neck whilst his finger was poking teasingly at your entrance,

with the burning sensation on your chest increasing, you pinched his arm as you felt your chest constricting, sunghoon hastily loosened his hold before he allowed both of your bodies to float towards the surface, gasping in desperation as you heaved in air, sunghoon himself breathing heavily against you as he grounded himself from his own lightheadedness, "didn't last that long, huh?" he mockingly asked as if he wasn't breathing in heaves of air,

"didn't expect your 'plans' to include murdering me" you replied back, closing your eyes in attempts to regulate your breathing while sunghoon chuckled against your neck, before sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, "i have other plans now, baby," he spoke lowly,

not giving you the chance to speak, sunghoon pushed his body against yours completely for a second time, this time allowing his hardened length that was standing proudly against his lower stomach to press against your abdomen, gasping quietly at his movements, sunghoon's hands loosened from around you, "come help me with my plan now, angel," sunghoon said as he leaned against the wall of the pool, resting his elbows in the edge behind him as water droplets cascaded down from his dark wet locks down to his broad chest,

the sight of his hooded gaze peeking at you through his strands almost made your knees buckle, you followed after him, sunghoon's love filled eyes following your every move as you stood in front of him, his frame towering over yours once you wrapped your hands around his neck to kiss him properly this time,

connecting your lips to his tenderly made sunghoon's hands drop from the edge to grip on your hips, nails digging into your skin when you began to suck on his bottom lip, altering from gently biting his lip to swallowing all of his low moans, whilst you busied yourself with his mouth, sunghoon's hand went lower to hold onto the back of your thigh,

lifting your leg to wrap around his hip, the change in position allowed his rock hard length to land directly against your dripping folds, both of you moaning at the feeling of his tip pressing against your entrance, "let me hear you, darling," he spoke against your kisses, dizzy by your continued suckling on his swollen lips, you parted from his mouth to allow all of your pretty sounds that he adored to fall from your lips the moment he pushed in his tip further against your welcoming soaked walls,

lustrous half lidded eyes studied all of the expressions painting across your face at the feeling of his length invading your walls, sunghoon's jaw dropped as he mimicked your expressions, breathing heavily at your tightness engulfing him when he bottomed out completely,

his other hand wrapped around your waist to keep you in place while his other tightened around the plush skin of your thigh, frailly beginning to rock his hips against yours while moving yours to match with his soft thrusts, his lips lazily locked around your shoulders, marking the skin sweetly whilst all your groans and moans landed perfectly on his ears, his length rubbing against all of the spots that had you seeing stars before thrusting out with only the tip remaining, he repeated this routine as both of you felt your lower stomachs tightening,

impending highs creeping up on you, while sunghoon quickened his pace, his mouth now occupied with sucking dark marks along your neck, beautiful blueish red marks decorating the expanse of your chest up to your neck, occasionally biting to make you gasp adorably against his ears, he swiftly moved your other thigh to wrap around his waist, your legs easily floating and wrapping around his waist beneath the rippling water, his tip pressing against your cervix deliciously in this position making you cry out his name,

"i'm right here, angel," he spoke against your neck, hips pressing against yours harshly, sunghoon was fully hugging you now while he pounded into you, ripples gradually turning into small waves travelling across the surface of the pool as both of you neared your highs, your cries fell into his ear while his continuous praises fell against yours, your body jerked in his hold, thighs trembling around his waist as you felt your orgasm right around the corner,

"h-hoon, i'm so c-close," you mewled out as his thrusts only began to turn rougher, almost pushing him over the edge with your weak voice crying out his nickname oh so sweetly, his own body shook as he felt his climax impossibly closer, his nails digging onto every inch of skin they touched whilst you desperately held onto him,

"i've got you, angel, i'm right here, baby," he croaked out needily into your ear, his weak voice combined with his nails clawing in despair whilst he held onto you as his thrusts became sloppy and his hips trembled against yours were enough to push you over the edge, the familiar tightening of your walls when you gushed around him dragged out his climax from him in a breathtaking manner,

sunghoon instantly locked his lips onto your swollen red ones as he dipped you below the water yet again, thick ropes of white, warm cum pushed out right against your cervix as your walls clung almost painfully around his length, the sudden loss of air made both of your climaxes take entirely over your body,

clutching onto his shoulders when he continued thrusting, his tongue riskily pressing inside of your mouth as you felt dizziness take over your body from your orgasm and the cold water engulfing you, lungs burning when you felt yourself seconds away from blacking out, slipping further from reality when sunghoon's hand sneaked downwards to toy with your clit, prolonging your dizzying high even further, relishing in the way you bit down harshly at his bottom lip,

sunghoon made you both ride out your orgasms, mouth still pressed against yours while tears prickled in the corners of your closed eyes, before you could pinch him again he quickly made you rise to the surface, your weak body slumping against his as he held you up, having the audacity to chuckle breathlessly at your fucked out expression, "darling, we haven't even started yet," he spoke out as he attempted to regulate his breathing, too tired to respond you only left his comment with a harsh pinch onto his shoulders that you were holding onto, earning a pained laugh from him,

sunghoon quickly walked towards the other edge facing the house, grabbing onto the towels he discarded once he walked into the balcony, he carefully walked out of the pool with your body wrapped around his, using a towel large enough to cover your slightly shaking body to shield you from the cold breeze along with his,

"let's go shower then we'll take a nap, alright angel?" he whispered softly into your ear, hands loosening around you when you nodded against him, he walked into the shower, dark interior extending into the bathroom, he gently placed you down after he removed the soaked towel, arm wrapped around your waist in support as he stepped beneath the large rectangular shower head,

warm water cascaded down both of your cold bodies, the slight numb feeling in your fingers disappearing whilst the water poured, sunghoon's larger frame wrapped around yours, love-struck eyes entranced by the sight of your blissed out face, with your eyes closed you wrapped your arms around his waist, his length remained between your thighs as he hold you close to him, allowing your bodies to warm up,

"'did so well for me, angel" he praised, loving gaze still stuck on you as you completely clouded his thoughts, "my pretty, perfect, angel" his voice continued to spill out praises lowly, squirming in his hold at his sweet words his hold on you tightened, holding himself back from moaning once your thighs brushed against his sensitive length,

you stopped your movement once you felt his semi hard length pressing against you, frozen as you looked up at him to see sunghoon's sultry gaze already locked on yours with his face flushed, "you're so needy today," you lowered your face, chuckling against his chest, when he grumbled, "you drive me crazy, angel" he groaned out, "i can tell," you responded, sneaking your hand between your bodies you grabbed his length before placing it between your folds, "baby-" sunghoon began, wanting to protest as he didn't want to tire you out, you shushed him your your finger, rocking your hips slowly against his allowing his cock to slip against your soaked folds,

sunghoon moaned lowly at the feeling of his cum dripping out from your cunt to rub against his length, your warmth gently stroking him whilst pearly precum dripped out from his reddened tip, mixing with the water, "fuck- baby, just like that," he moaned out once you began to move quicker, clenching your thighs to squeeze his cock perfectly,

"so fucking perfect for me, angel" he began to babble out once he felt the tensing feeling in his abdomen, "every part of you is so perfect," he breathed out needily, you stared at his expressions before he threw his head back, the hot droplets landing directly on his flushed face, cascading to drip down his neck, through the dim lighting you could see the expanse of his chest revealed entirely before your hungry eyes, without a second thought you dipped towards his neck, trailing soft kisses along his pale, smooth skin making him moan breathily, "i'm so c-close, angel, keep going," he choked out, imminent climax tightening in his lower stomach familiarly, his body trembled against yours as you continued to stroke his length,

sunghoon was in pure euphoria, you continued your ministrations, completely pushing him over the edge, his grip on your hips became firmer, he began to quicken your pace even further once he felt his high wash over his shaking body fully, breathy moans echoing throughout the bathroom as his cum trickled down your inner thighs before mixing with the water, you continued kissing and sucking along his neck resulting in goosebumps appearing along his skin, his thrusts slowing gradually, his grip on you loosened while you looked up at his dazed expression, "i'm so glad i married you."

"love me good, love me down, don't turn me down,"

after your mini marathon with sunghoon, he kept his words of letting you both take a rest before doing anything else for the rest of the day, it was way past the afternoon now, the evening approaching slowly as you and sunghoon were sitting on a small towel on the beach, the sunset's colours ahead of you mirrored on you both stunningly,

vibrant lights glowed from the numerous food stands placed around the side of the beach, carrying twinkling fairy lights from all colors while on the other side you could spot bodies swaying with other bodies as the loud speakers from the stage of a mini platform blared the song of the band performing atop of it,

your eyes occupied with gazing at all the scenes unfolding ahead of you, the chatter of the small crowds from the passersby accompanied by the singing of the dancing crowd, your ears also picked up the echoing laughter of children whilst they raced away from the waves, you felt at peace in such a happy place along with your lover who was gazing at your pleased expression with his heart soaring, every color from the fairylights and the fluorescent lights reflected from your twinkling eyes that he oh so deeply adored,

sunghoon shifted your attention back to him when he laid down gingerly and placed his head on your lap, chestnut strands contrasting your white dress that you wore as they spread out graciously, tempting you to run your fingers delicately throughout his hair which you began to do subconsciously, he hummed in satisfaction at the familiar feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp gently,

"feeling tired?" you asked him quietly as you stared at his gorgeous profile, the slope of his nose seeming to be carved by a deity, his moles decorating his pale skin elegantly, his usually furrowed eyebrows relaxed with his eyes closed, breathing in the salty air around him deeply, he looked serene as he was in a state so calm and tranquil he almost felt drowsy, "a bit," he replied,

truth is, he felt himself slipping further into his drowsiness, mere seconds away from completely disconnecting and falling into pure slumber as your fingers continued to work through his strands, the sounds of the crashing waves lulling him deeper,

he, however held himself back from falling asleep, especially not when you're in a good mood and you weren't even feeling sleepy like he was, he wasn't going to allow his plans to suddenly have the opposite effect on him with you awake and him asleep, fighting against his own body, he opened his eyes, his tired gaze meeting your expectant ones, "want me to get you a drink?" you questioned,

pointing into one of the stands that appeared to be serving cocktails to the group pf adults lining as other servers leaned down, smiling as they handed a bunch of kids what appeared to be colorful drinks from all types of fruits, sunghoon quickly nodded before he pushed his body off, "don't take too long," he grumbled whilst you began to walk away from him, you only chuckled at his grumpiness,

arriving before the welcoming server who happened to be a girl slightly younger than you, you hastily ordered a non-alcoholic beverage for sunghoon knowing that him getting drunk when he's sleepy was not the best idea, as the last time it happened it somehow ended up with him sleeping on the balcony without a blanket after he refused to listen to you in his intoxicated state, which resulted in him dealing with a cold for the rest of the week, and you for sure didn't want the trip to end so quickly,

the brunette— minjeong who told you her name sweetly during your small chat with her, "you're engaged?!" she questioned, bewilderment and shock evident on her face, "but you're still so young!" she continued as you laughed at her adorable expressions before you shrugged helplessly, you still had difficulty at fully digesting and processing the fact that you were engaged as well, everyday with sunghoon passing by as a mere blur yet it was something you grew accustomed to over time, "is that him?" minjeong asked you, looking behind you at an approaching figure of a young guy,

you turned around, thinking maybe you had taken too long hence why sunghoon could possibly be behind you right now, but instead you came face to face with a guy who appeared to be around your age, blonde hair sleeked back, slightly messy from what you guessed- him running his fingers through his strands as he was literally doing it in front of you,

he was a gorgeous man, curious dark brown eyes quickly travelled your figure before he revealed a breathtaking smile, he swiftly stood besides you, facing minjeong as he blurred out a random order, after minjeong's confused eyes flickered between the both of you, she walked towards the back, momentarily disappearing from your sight, the taller man next to you accepting this as an advantage turned his body to face you,

once he met your gaze, he smiled once again "you're a new face here," he spoke with a thick accent as he chuckled, eyes studying your face,

"you're for sure new around here," his voice low and smooth, awaiting for your answer while your heart drummed in your chest, you pushed the idea of sunghoon seeing you with a random guy, because besides avoiding getting him sick again on this trip, you truly didn't want to anger him- or worse, make him jealous on this trip,

opting to fix your hair with your engagement ring clad hand in hopes of him noticing and returning to wherever he came from, yet it seemed that it flew completely past by him as he continued, "you gonna respond to me, doll?" he leaned his body further towards you, provoking you even further whilst you backed away, "i'm here for a trip," you replied,

eyes ignoring his playful gaze, desperately searching for minjeong to arrive with sunghoon's drink so you can go back into his comforting embrace, "really? i can show you around then, doll" he smiled at you once again, eyes drinking you up, god you were gorgeous.

seeming to get no response again from you, your anxiousness growing worse with each second as did your discomfort, tapping your foot on the sand beneath you, "i'm jake by the way, what kind of trip are you on, doll?" he winked at you, his arm brushing against yours finally making you snap-

"a honeymoon trip."

a deep, familiar voice rasped out from behind you, sunghoon's arm snaking around your waist protectively and his figure towered behind you, almost in a scary manner, the comically funny sight of jake's face falling at sunghoon's appearance and words almost made you laugh, sunghoon's heavy breathing fanning at your neck forced goosebumps to arise on your body as his body almost shook with jealousy and at the sheer audacity of this random dude approaching you, was the diamond on your ring finger not big enough?

"you don't seem too happy about it, jake." sunghoon pressed on, now holding your hand and waving the diamond ring directly in front of his face, the irritation on jake's face becoming more visible with every passing second, before he sucked a deep breath in, "nah.. totally the opposite, congratulations." he replied through gritted teeth,

"so you were saying.. about showing her around?" sunghoon asked, eyebrow raised as his face remained stoic, his intimidating, glowering gaze raking over jake multiple times, while your heart only thumped at the increasing tension, part of you wishing minjeong to not come back and have the young girl witness whatever was going on between jake and sunghoon,

"you don't really find beautiful girls all alone around here.. they're usually with someone," jake began, his own challenging gaze holding sunghoon's angry one, "i knew she probably isn't from here, so that's why i approached her, she was standing all alone after all," jake kept bringing up the fact that you were alone, with each word coming out of his mouth sunghoon's grip tightened around you, you cursed at yourself for somehow managing to end up in this situation, sunghoon and jake felt like they were seconds away from jumping at each other as the latter kept spewing words to rile sunghoon further,

you held onto sunghoon's hand, his knuckles white and cold as they trembled beneath your hold, "you seem a bit experienced at approaching 'pretty girls' , jake." sunghoon replied, jake's eyes visibly darkening at his words, tilting his head yet before he could respond, a taller guy, clad in rings and chains, with jet black slightly wavy hair approached both of you,

his hands wrapped around jake's shoulders as he pulled him back, "woah! gentlemen, let's calm down a bit, yeah? there's still a lady here," the man with captivating round brown eyes smiled at you sweetly before his gaze switched between the two men who were breathing heavily, jake stumbled back into the guy's arms, huffing in frustration as his gaze softened in realisation once he saw your worried gaze, sunghoon's demeanour never wavered, his eyes still stuck on jake's face who seemed to be yet again distracted by you,

breathing out in relief, your shaky breaths finally caught the attention of sunghoon who stepped away from jake as he was getting scolded by the other guy, noticing the tight grip you had over his hand, sunghoon's racing heartbeat due to anger suddenly raced due to worry, guilt seeping through his veins when you closed your eyes in relief, face stricken with worry,

"baby.." he began, hands carefully reaching upwards to hold gently onto your face, before you held onto his wrists, jake and the other guy seemed a far distance away as the taller one seemed to be explaining something in an overly dramatic matter to another dark haired guy who looked at jake with a disapproving look, his frown only deepening when jake's only response was to roll his eyes and wave them off,

sunghoon's heart momentarily stopped when your weak hold wrapped around his wrist, "i'll see you at the house," you spoke, voice quiet though it rung in sunghoon's ears once you walked away from him, heading towards the house which was a few streets away, leaving him all alone in the beach,

he fucked up.

you fucked up.

if only you had been able to tell jake from the beginning that you were engaged, maybe that could've stopped him from continuing his questions which resulted in sunghoon almost getting into a fight if it wasn't for the bambi-eyed guy stepping in and dragging jake away, now both your and sunghoon's mood was ruined entirely, especially sunghoon's— which was way worse.

all scenarios and daydreams that you kept thinking of, how magical this trip would be and how special it'll be for only the two of you got ruined as you managed to fuck it up.

how were you going to make it up for sunghoon?

not only did you anger him, you left him alone at the beach as well, who knows maybe he got into a fight with jake after you left? or he sat down and sadly drank his drink minjeong handed him as he decided that giving you some alone time would be the best decision for now,

just how were you supposed to make it up for him?

slumping against the bed once you finally arrived into the house, the memories of the morning earlier overtaking your thoughts, what a turn of events.

and as you wallowed in worry and guilt, an idea popped up in your head so sensibly, praying to all deities and gods above that sunghoon would follow along to what you were thinking,

"got a bed with your name on it,"

and after what seemed to be an hour or maybe a half, maybe even two, sunghoon lost complete track of time as he sat down at the beach, his glass empty infront of him, memories from the previous hours kept repeating in his head, great, it was only the first day of the trip he insisted on and he managed to ruin it by almost breaking one of the main promises you begged him for, to never get into fights because of you, or possibly end up in a situation that hurt him because of you,

the promise went both ways, and you so politely kept yours throughout the four years, whilst he on the other hand always ended up in situations where he either broke it or almost broke it,

his anger was one of the main things he despised about himself, he hated how out of control his emotions could get sometimes to the point of worrying you like today, his possessiveness and jealousy were different factors that he also disliked, but he couldn't help it.

not when he got so miraculously lucky and was blessed with you as his lover, he loved and adored you so much, you were his entire world, his entire universe revolved around you, you were such a pure hearted and kind soul, your breathtaking beauty another bonus making you an angel in his eyes,

you attracting the hungry eyes of other men should be no surprise to sunghoon, turning heads in every room you walked was something he had to grow accustomed to, holding back his anger from punching any and every man that stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes,

yet when he saw jake so carelessly hitting on you, even though you did every possible movement to get your ring in his vision along with jake's ministrations continuing though you were clearly uncomfortable, anyone could tell from miles away that you didn't wish to continue whatever jake was insunating and it had sunghoon seeing red, like stated before, he can't help himself.

and now after a short conversation with the guy who dragged jake away, who he learned to be heeseung, seeming more mature than jake, he apologised for his friend's actions which he unexpectedly received an apology from sunghoon for,

"i acted on my anger as well, i'm sorry, i should've just told him we're engaged and ended it there," he spoke out, voice low in exhaustion and guilt, heeseung only smiled at his changed demeanour, witnessing a contrasting side of sunghoon that seemed like a complete different person than the man who he distanced jake from in fear that this might be the time that jake will end up hurt,

his fiery eyes simmered down to eyes filled with regret and shame at his childish behaviour, heeseung quickly reassured him that it was alright, understanding sunghoon's perspective entirely, "it's cool man, you only did what you had to do as a man, to protect your woman." heeseung smiled comfortingly at him, sunghoon smiled slightly at the way heeseung referred to you, it wasn't anything new to him, but it never failed to make his heart skip a beat whenever people mentioned your name around him let alone called you 'his woman',

"which- congratulations on the engagement by the way," heeseung added, his twinkling round eyes gazing at sunghoon gently, before sunghoon smiled back at him in appreciation, "thank you."

"we could still.. show you around the island you know.. i'll keep jake in control, i promise," he spoke, awkwardly scratching at his neck, preparing his response for sunghoon's rejection, his words made sunghoon chuckle, nodding in agreement at heeseung, resulting in the older's eyes brightening, "you better get going now, i'm sure she's waiting for you," he spoke while wiggling his eyebrows in a kid like manner, his actions made sunghoon shake his head as he chuckled before he decided to finally head back home, apology memorised and prepared in his head throughout his time at the beach,

"see you tomorrow, sunghoon! goodnight!" heeseung shouted from the opposite direction of sunghoon as he waved his hand, sunghoon responded with a 'goodnight' before they both disappeared from each other's sights,

sunghoon's heart was thumping against his chest, thoughts of your reaction and responses clouded his anxious mind, he hoped and wished that you both will be able to talk this out and not fight, he could feel small sweat droplets roll below his neck, his head almost aching from his worry and fatigue, all he wanted to do was to hold you tight in his embrace and sleep comfortably, but it seemed like the universe had different plans,

you had completely different plans.

walking inside of your house to see all the lights turned off, no traces of you in the balcony nor the kitchen, sunghoon's stress worsened as he dragged his feet into the bedroom to welcome a sight that'll easily knock the breath out of his lungs,

maybe he was overthinking with your 'reactions and responses', especially since every scenario in his head consisted of negative emotions followed by negative outcomes, that completely contrasted the sight of you, clad in nothing but a light pink— strawberry coloured lace lingerie, laying on your side cozily on the bed, facing the forest, seemingly awaiting your lover's arrival,

sunghoon swallowed thickly, heart thundering once you turned around, dazed eyes meeting his gaze making his breath hitch, he took in your appearance for a second time,

"angel.." he breathed out heavily, he could feel the apparent tightening in his pants increasing, you blinked at him innocently, before you turned your whole body towards him, the sight of your breasts barely covered by the see-through lacey bra had him biting the inside of his cheek, he came here to apologise, so what the fuck was he going to do?

"join me?" you spoke out, drawing him out of his conflicted thoughts, once he registered your words he quickly wiped his sweaty palms into the fabric of his pants, walking towards you and noticing a small strawberry in your hand, the bowl of strawberries placed onto the bedside table also coming into view accompanied by a can of whipped cream,

he really did get ridiculously lucky with you.

his feet dragged him towards you in no time, body crawling over the bed to tower over yours, you looked at him through your lashes once he began to move, grabbing the strawberry from your hand before reaching out for the whipped cream, removing the cap to press on the nozzle and cover half of the strawberry with the icy frosting, he inched his hand towards your mouth, never breaking the eye contact when he fed you the strawberry,

his hand flicked into the corner, landing a bit of the frosting onto the side of your mouth, "sorry.. let me help you," he spoke with faux sympathy, his lust filled eyes barely visible with his hair strands falling graciously, obstructing his vision yet his eyes never left your mouth, your heart hammered in your ribcage once he licked his lips before he leaned in to lick the frosting from the corner of your mouth teasingly,

whilst he had you distracted, his hand held the can above your chest, tilting the top lower to drip the remaining bits of the cream onto your chest, and once you hissed at the cold droplets landing against your warm skin you heard him gasp in shock, "oops, i don't know how it's getting everywhere," he chuckled, not giving you the chance to respond he dipped lower to caress your skin with his wet tongue, humming in delight once the sweet frosting melted in his mouth, relishing in your low whimpers,

he shook the can in his hand whilst he busied his mouth with softly suckling on your supple skin, dragging the cream over your rib cage then going lower to your stomach, "sorry baby.. i just can't help it," he breathed out, licking up all the whipping cream from your rib only to land kisses along the expanse of your skin when it got clean, you whimpered once he dipped lower to lick your belly button, before he stopped at the hem of your panties, you sat up on your elbows to see sunghoon discarding the bottle onto the bed, attaching his teeth onto the hem as he held your gaze, hauling the thin fabric to your knees then yanked it off below your ankles,

you fell back against the bed, lightheaded when he lifted your thighs gently to wrap them around his shoulders, face descending lower, allowing him to inhale your sweet scent, he felt slightly dizzy at your closer contact that he had been impatiently waiting for,

"you're dripping baby.." his voice lowered, sunghoon ran the tip of his tongue along your soaked folds, eyes closing once your nectar bursted with flavour on his tongue along with your breathy moans falling onto his ears divinely,

one hand coming up to rub slow circles over your aching clit as he began to carefully push his tongue into your drenched entrance, you gasped out in surprise once his tongue began to lick all over your walls, waves of pleasure electrifying your spine as he continued to please you, his tongue and finger never faltering in movement while you gripped the sheet, the coil in your stomach constricting from your building up release, voice increasing in pitch when he began to fasten his actions, "hoon- i'm cumming!" you warned before your climax crashed onto you quicker than you could've processed,

sunghoon only moaned lowly against your cunt while you gushed around him, he licked every drop of your nectar whilst his finger never stalled, aiding you in riding out your high as you continued to moan beautifully for him, sunghoon slowly stopped and finished off with a small kiss onto your clit making you squirm before he crawled towards you, allowing you to take the heavenly sight of his face glistening, his gaze almost seeming intoxicated at your flavour, "so much sweeter than that stupid cream," he spoke out amidst him connecting his lips onto yours, groaning slightly at the taste of the sweet strawberry still on your tongue all the while you tasted yourself and the cream on his,

sunghoon's hands restlessly tugged at your lace bra, his mouth still latched onto yours as he impatiently ripped the fabric off easily, you mewled into his mouth once his hands began to fondle your breasts, fingers pinching and pulling at your hardened nipples while his mouth sucked onto your bottom lip,

sunghoon pulled away momentarily to discard his own clothes in a blur, each item landing in a different location in the room, he crawled back to you eagerly, your hands instantly lifting up to caress his smooth skin, running your fingers down his shoulders to his waist as you stared at him lovingly, his body warming yours, your tender gaze making butterflies erupt in his stomach, he quickly reconnected your mouths with his tongue running along yours, lifting your legs up carefully to rest on his shoulders then he moved to push your knees onto your chest,

his rock hard length fitted snugly against your folds, teasingly resting his heavy weight over your pulsing clit, sunghoon pulled away to reach into the bowl, pulling another strawberry, placing the fruit into his mouth with half of it protruding, he leaned towards you, enticing you to take a bite,

you pushed yourself forward, connecting your lips shortly until you took a bite of the fruit, sweet flavour exploding to your mouth whilst sunghoon stared at you, gaze half open and glimmering as his length twitched against you, he hastily dipped to capture your lips again, in the meantime his hand went lower, positioning his tip along your entrance before he slowly pushed himself deeper, inch by inch stretching you open on his thick length, deliciously filling you up all the while licking needily into your mouth,

you moaned into his mouth once he bottomed out, tip pressed snugly against your cervix whilst your walls were accommodating to the burning stretch, sunghoon mouth worked sloppily against yours, swallowing all your sounds when he began to slightly move, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth yet it bothered neither of you, his hands held the back of your knees roughly, keeping you in place as he began to pound into you,

his mouth kissed along your jaw, allowing your moans and whimpers to reverberate throughout the room, you helplessly clawed at his biceps, digging your nails into his skin resulting in him hissing in pleasure, sunghoon's hips pistoned into yours, his cock running along and hitting all of your sweet spots, his hands moved towards your breast, caressing the skin before he latched his mouth onto your nipple,

the feeling of his teeth slightly biting your skin had your eyes rolling back, your hands pulling at the sheets once squelching, wet sounds echoed throughout the room followed by both your and sunghoon's moans, "i'm gonna fill you up so good, angel," he groaned against your skin, "you'll feel my cum throughout the entire week, he continued,

nuzzling his head into your neck, he pressed his mouth onto your ear, hips never faltering against you, "gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, yeah?" he grunted, breath hot on your ear, his body jerking against yours, small sweat droplets rolling off from him to land against you, the smell of sex and your mixed arousal filling the room, "fuck- yes! please, baby," you whimpered in his ear, abdomen tightening for a second time causing your walls to clamp around him, he groaned in pleasure as he sloppily thrusted into your heat, "please what, angel?"

"please fill me up," you whispered weakly, throat hoarse and your voice almost disappearing, his mind was spinning once he felt his approaching release as his cock was practically moulding your walls to his shape, his length was continuously jerking inside of you at his orgasm, your wetness mixed with his precum now dripping below your thighs to stain the mattress, "gonna let me fuck my baby into you, hm?" he teased with his cock drilling inside of you, "god you'd look so gorgeous carrying my baby," he continued babbling whilst you nodded dumbly at his words, too distracted by your release, sunghoon's hands fondled your breasts, "gonna look so pretty with these filled with your sweet milk," his hands squeezed your tits at his 'these' word, finger pinching at your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth,

his own hips began to uncontrollably convulse while your legs trembled on his shoulders, your eyes rolling back for the nth time once your orgasm washed over you, jaw going slack all the while sunghoon's gaze never left your face, his mouth still latched onto your nipple as he whimpered at the tight feeling of your walls clamping on his length, he lifted his face to pepper small kisses all along your jaw and cheeks, your breath uneven as sunghoon helped you to ride out your orgasm, eyes closed tightly in pure bliss, "such a good girl, creaming all over my cock" he praised, softly brushing loose strands away from your face before he pecked your lips, "my perfect good girl,"

in the blink of an eye he switched your positions, holding you on your side while he laid behind you, his sweaty chest pressing against your back as he held your leg open before plunging his cock back into you, both of you groaning at the feeling of your wetness gushing out more when he thrusts back in, his other hand swiftly landed against your clit to rub slow circles on your puffy nub whilst his length thrusted into your warmth in deep and steady strokes,

his hot breath fanning your shoulders, kissing the skin of your neck every now and then while his eyebrows furrowed, his mind in a frenzy as his climax felt mere seconds away, "come on angel, cream all over my cock again. come on, baby" sunghoon whined from behind you, each word going straight to your needy cunt making you clench around him, you felt like you were on cloud nine with his constant overstimulation, his hand never slowed against your clit while his cock ached inside of you,

"h-hoon i c-can't-" you stuttered out, he moaned at the feeling of you tightening at his words, your cunt sucking him in entirely, "yes baby, you can, come on. i need to feel it, baby" he blabbered, you couldn't tell if you were being overstimulated or if sunghoon dragged another orgasm out of you as you cried, your body shaking entirely once you began squirting all over his length, sunghoon's breath hitched, a chain of fuckfuckfuck- spilling from his mouth as his climax washed over him, pressing his hips against yours to push his tip to your cervix, allowing his warm load to shoot into your womb while your walls milked him fully, both of you panting in overstimulation and fatigue as he filled you up,

sunghoon carefully placed your sore leg down, length still buried deep in you to keep his load in place, you were exhausted, already slipping off to a deep slumber whilst you began to feel sunghoon press kisses along your shoulder,

"so.. am i forgiven?" he asked quietly,

"yeah- yeah i think so."

then you heard him whisper a sweet 'i love you.' before completely surrendering to sleep,

BONUS:

and here you were on your fifth day of the trip, indulging in a conversation with heeseung as he explained all the other different games to you, all with captivating colorful lights that easily distracted you,

on the other side of the arcade you could spot minjeong and jay sitting down at a bench together, each holding a cup that contained god knows what as they were both already tired with their social batteries empty,

while your dear fiance- there really was no need to look for him once you heard him yelling at jake, a few feet away from you while jake shouted a 'cheater!' to his face,

"how the fuck can i cheat when i'm literally playing a claw machine?!" sunghoon yelled back in bewilderment,

"seriously how did you marry him?" heeseung questioned as he covered his ears for the nth time due to their shouting, you only laughed at his frustrated expression since you, yourself didn't know how you managed to marry sunghoon.

A. NOTE (pt2): this took like more than 4 days i'm not gonna post till next year atp. also this is proof read but it's also 7k so pls ignore any sentences that don’t make sense <3

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hcuyk · 1 month

Text

OUR INFERNO | CHAPTER ONE

SYNOPSIS ✧ despite being your greatest archnemesis/rival/enemy/frenemy/whateverthefuck he was, hyunjae had always been by your side. that changed when your boyfriend was brought up, creating a newfound rift in your whateverthefuck relationship with hyunjae

PAIRING ✧ rival!hyunjae x fem!reader

GENRE ✧ high school au, enemies to fwb, angst, smut, fluff(?), humor(?) (these mfs bicker a lot), pining

WARNINGS ✧ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — cheating, profanity, mentions of physical fight/bruises, underaged drinking, obsessive/possessive hyunjae : NSFW TAGS : outdoor/semipublic sex, dubcon recording, spit/drool/tears, oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetration, scratching/ripping, humping, minimal praise, degradation, sub!hyunjae for 0.002 seconds, petnames (princess, good girl, babe/baby, slut)

WORD COUNT ✧ 19k

⋮≡ [ OUR INFERNO EXCLUSIVE ] @deoboyznet @flwoie @sanaxo-o — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

. . . . . . OUR INFERNO M.LIST ✩ next [ TWO ]

⋮≡ [ PERMANENT TAGLIST ] @armysantiny @stealanity @zzoguri @nyujjan @tinisprout @the-kpop-simp @sunwoosberrie @winterchimez — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

THE BOYZ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

AUTHOR'S NOTE : in honor of my three years of officially stanning the boyz on this very day, let's celebrate with my smut debut and writing comeback 😋 enjoy my loves

PART ONE: CHASING THE SPARK (THE FIRE TETRAHEDRON) — fuel, oxygen, and heat | CHAPTER ONE

“Genuine question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who the fuck does Hyunjae actually think he is?”

Unphased by your up-and-coming rage rant, Kevin resumed snacking on the protein bar he had brought with him. He tossed his free arm over the camera equipment and backpacks sitting next to him on the bench, watching you stride back and forth within one of the many hallways in the recreational center.

“Well, he is your boss.”

“No, he’s the student executive producer,” you corrected, your legs unwavering as you kept a consistent pace to release your frustrations. Kevin shrugged and tossed one leg over the other, staying relaxed despite the hot fumes emanating from your upright and angered figure. You paused momentarily to look him in the eye.

“Emphasis on the student,” you clarified.

“Emphasis on the executive, Y/N.”

Baffled at how he was defending your greatest archnemesis (well, more like your greatest frenemy), you ignored his rebuttal and started pacing again. Your steps slowed as you envisioned the sensations you experienced just minutes before, back when you, Kevin, and Hyunjae were at the indoor pool to report for your school’s broadcasting channel. Technically, you were the one reporting and filming while Hyunjae was the subject of interest, and Kevin was there for physical support.

Chills latched onto your skin as you remembered what it felt like to have Hyunjae’s bare torso looming over you, his eyes peering over your shoulder to glance at your footage. While staring at the camera, his gentle, irregular breaths would continuously hit your skin. Water from the pool would trickle down his hair and into your shirt, reaching your backside. When it happened, you could barely comprehend Hyunjae’s ‘advice’ and instead focused on feeling every cold droplet travel through the crevasses created by your spine. You winced at the thought of that happening again, yet somehow you could still hear his irritating voice near your ear, telling you all the reasons why your B-roll of his lap swimming was ‘trash’ and ‘unusable.’

For a moment, you stood there in the hallway frozen, unsure of how to move, before realizing you were just reliving a moment from earlier and that Hyunjae was still in the locker room changing.

“I’m going to make a complaint,” you declared, turning back towards Kevin for his encouragement. Alternatively, you were met with the sight of your best friend completely failing to conceal his judgment and disapproval towards your suggestion.

“Against Hyunjae? You gotta be kidding, right?”

“Yes,” you answered confidently. “Wait, I mean no, I’m not kidding, but yes, against Hyunjae.”

Kevin eyed you skeptically, trying to decipher why you felt threatened enough to report someone like Hyunjae. You may not have spent all your previous years in high school with an affinity for Hyunjae, but it wasn’t like you hated him either—not in the way you truly loathed others. If that were the case, you wouldn’t spend nearly every day with him, bickering until the sun chose to set.

“Sure, maybe my B-roll was trash, I can attest to that, but that does not give his bitchass the right to not only shit on how ‘awful’ I was doing, but also yank the camera out of my hands and delete all the footage I got because they weren’t ‘perfect enough.’ What kind of psycho is that?” You glanced over at Kevin, trying once again to get him to back you up, but the most he gave was a slight nod. Everything you were spurting was half-mindedly being decoded because he had ended up placing more significance on inhaling protein. Regardless, you continued.

“And you would think, hey! As the student executive producer of a high school broadcasting team, he would understand that no! I indeed do not record half-naked people swimming in a pool, whether it be for a career or a hobby. He should also at least have the decency to not swim seven hundred miles per minute while I’m recording. Of course I’m not going to catch up, especially when he barely told me how he wanted things to be recorded? Isn’t he fucking insane for that? Not to mention all the goddamn splashing because of how fucking long his limbs are—”

“You’re explaining this like I didn’t witness the whole exchange,” Kevin grumbled.

“And you would think he knows, right? That Mr. Executive-slash-Captain-of-the-Swim-Team should either be more considerate when, A, he’s kicking water in my direction when he’s swimming or, B, station me away from the edge of the pool? Just a thought, but fuck me, I guess.”

“Well yeah, but the—”

“Also! Not to mention the camera has the fucking ability to zoom in, so why was there even a need for me to stand by the pool anyway?” You scoffed at the absurdity, almost tempted to cackle like a villain because of it. “The least he could do was tell me how to record it or find a way to adjust and compromise without occasionally soaking me with water on purpose, which I know damn well he was—”

“That’s just how-”

“We have a tripod, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed. By now, Kevin had given up on providing you with his input. He opted to rest against the wall, finishing up whatever he had left of the protein bar, and occasionally would roll his eyes.

“But even then, who the fuck wants to see him swim anyway? We’ll probably only need like…what? A minute of the footage for the B-roll? So why the hell is he treating it like it’s about to be nominated by the goddamn Oscars for Best Picture? He just loves to nitpick and control me like a fucking puppet—”

“Keep talking and you’ll potentially strain your throat,” a new voice interrupted.

You jerked around to find Hyunjae, the culprit of your rant, exiting the locker room with a small duffle bag that contained both his swim gear and his school clothes from earlier in the day. His brown hair was only halfway dry, some strands still stuck to his forehead as he approached where you were pacing.

You halted in your path and stared him down. Hyunjae immediately caught onto the mood you were in, and instead of being shocked or hurt, he grinned.

“You.”

Your attempt at threatening him with one word made Hyunjae laugh.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Oh here we go again,” Kevin mumbled, tossing the wrapper of the protein bar to the side. He pulled out his phone and went on TikTok, deciding it was more worthy of his attention than listening to you two banter—something he had been experiencing for well over five years.

As a mutual friend of yours and Hyunjae’s since middle school, Kevin understood the frenemy dynamic better than either of you. Eventually, over the long years he had known you both, he learned to leave you two be.

“What about me, though? Are you going to try and tattletale on me?” Hyunjae feigned sympathy as he gave you an exaggerated pout, tilting his head like a puppy’s. “C’mon. I’m just doing my job.”

“Sorry, but I don’t remember ‘being a dick’ being listed under the requirements for your oh-so-important position of power.” You huffed at him and crossed your arms, choosing to face elsewhere as you rooted the soles of your feet to the ground.

Hyunjae furrowed his brows, his eyes never leaving you, as he addressed the third party within the shared space.

“Kevin, was I being a dick, or is Y/N exaggerating?”

Kevin glanced up at his phone and scrunched his nose at Hyunjae in annoyance.

“Don’t even try to bring me into whatever…this mess is.”

“No, tell him,” you demanded, now looking at him. Your glare was enough to burn Kevin into ashes, but it was nothing compared to Hyunjae’s gaze piercing into your back. Knowing that he never looked away made you shiver, hating how fixated he seemed to be—and seemingly without reason too.

“Listen, I wasn’t being a dick. I was treating you the same way I treat everyone else. I’d honestly argue that you’re just narcissistic and think everything is about you when—”

“Oh wow, thank you for admitting that you’re a dick to everyone else!” You tossed your hands up for dramatic appeal as you spun back around to look at him. He scoffed, but his demeanor was quickly shadowed by a smirk that appeared on his lips, testing you with the arch of his brow.

“Oh really? Do you see anyone else complaining?”

“I’m complaining,” Kevin muttered.

“People don’t complain because they’re scared of you, Sherlock,” you retorted. At this point, Hyunjae had already caught onto your bullshit of making evidence up, and it was why this exchange ended up lasting for as long as it did. Nevertheless, his ego continued to build the more you spoke.

“You’re not scared of me?”

And you keep falling for the bait.

“Why should I? You’re nothing.” You approached him and pressed a finger into his chest, taunting him as you stared straight into his eyes.

Suddenly a competition seemed to have materialized because now you both were locking eyes, too stubborn to look away.

“One day you’ll wake up and realize your position doesn’t mean shit. You take it too seriously and make everyone’s job your job when this should be a learning experience for the rest of us.”

“And who exactly is ‘us,’ babe?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that–”

“And it’s also starting to sound like jealousy to me.” Hyunjae’s eyes finally shifted, but instead of looking away from you like you initially wanted him to, you trailed his line of sight down to your lips. He eyed them shamelessly—technically making you win the unspoken eye contact competition, but at what cost? “I won’t believe you until I receive firm evidence and testimonies from the other students in the club, then maybe I’ll consider your concerns. Deal?”

What you despised most was how well Hyunjae knew and provoked you to get under your skin. He was a raging flame, making your blood boil from both irritation and excitement. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but after nearly six years of banter with Hyunjae, you knew damn well you enjoyed every second of it. It was like a nonstop competition, and you were always on the edge of winning.

Maybe it was also because you were so used to him constantly being above you. He was the president of the student council, the swim team’s captain, and specifically the one who snatched the executive position away from you in the broadcasting team, yet somehow you were still able to compete at his level of arrogance and egotism.

Even though you may never be able to top him in the foreseeable future, you at least knew how to match his fury—his fire, with your own.

“You’re pathetic.” You took a few steps back to gain some distance while his eyes flickered back up to yours. He bit his lip playfully, his smile only growing even wider.

“Woah, Y/N. Exposing my degradation kink so soon?”

“I-...you- w-what?!” you sputtered, your jaw falling slack as Kevin’s head snapped up, staring at the two of you in disgust.

“Get a room—!”

“I’m going to make sure you get degraded from your position, you freak!”

“Not exactly how that word works, princess, but I’m glad you’re at least passionate.” His cooing made you want to slap the living shit out of him, your eyes protruding from their sockets are you glared.

“Are you fucking bricked up or something right now—?”

“Hey guys,” a woman’s voice called out. Your heads turned to look at the end of the hallway, catching one of the recreational center’s workers waving in your general direction. She pressed her lips together and smiled, attempting to be as professional and understanding as possible. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is it okay if you guys turn it down a notch?”

You and Hyunjae both nodded and whispered apologies, feeling like kids who just got scolded for shoving paintbrushes down the drain. Fortunately, the worker’s smile radiated genuine warmth and consideration, providing you some sort of reassurance that you guys weren’t too much of a disturbance (even though you guys totally were).

“You two are the most childish fuckers I know,” Kevin deadpanned, finally shoving his phone away as he switched between looking at you and the man by your side. His eyebrows bunched up.

“And apparently horny too.”

“I would move across the country if it meant I never had to see him again,” you grumbled, striding back to the pile of equipment to pick up your backpack and the bag with all your reporting necessities (boring script, stationary, and a couple of notebooks shared with all the broadcasting students to collect notes and inspiration in).

“Hello? I’m still here.”

“Look at that. He already misses me.”

“I’m going to hurl,” Kevin unnecessarily announced, and Hyunjae’s face soured.

“Ew.”

“Exactly. That’s how you two make me feel whenever you guys are together.” Kevin got up on his feet and grabbed the wrapper to shove into one of his pockets (no littering, kids) before outstretching his limbs dramatically.

“I swear I developed back pain from always listening to you guys bicker.”

“Or, hot take,” Hyunjae interjected, “maybe it’s because you’re always sitting with your back arching forward like it belongs in the Arches National Park–”

“Yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.” Kevin waved him off with his hand and rolled his eyes. “I came here to help carry stuff, not listen to your bullshit.”

He picked up the bag that contained the camera and passed it to Hyunjae. He offered to hold one more thing, but with only his backpack and the tripod left, Kevin didn’t see much need for his friend’s assistance.

Kevin then faced you, his face stern and rid of emotion.

“You too, Y/N,” he stated seriously. “None of this ‘he said this,’ ‘he said that,’ ‘please fuck me’ bullshit from you either.”

You gaped at him, arms wrapped tightly around the crew’s bag.

“Now why the hell do you think—”

“Zip it.”

Without giving you much of an opportunity to continue, Kevin sped off in front of you, ready to leave the building. You couldn’t even look at Hyunjae as heat rushed to your cheeks, struggling to trail after Kevin’s speedy steps.

Despite carrying heavier items, Hyunjae caught up to you with ease. You wanted nothing more than for Hyunjae’s feet to either slow down or speed up tremendously, but of course he purposely chose to walk by your side, attached to you by the hip.

“He sees it,” Hyunjae sing-songed. “Everyone sees it.”

“Sees what?” you snorted, oblivious to what he was indicating.

“That you want me,” he replied nonchalantly.

The moment you two stepped outside the doors of the center, you stopped to face him, trying to confirm what exactly he was implying.

“You can’t be serious.”

Hyunjae, who also stopped with your steps, shrugged.

“You’re the one in denial.”

Realizing that he was serious, you felt every muscle in your body tense up.

“Hyunjae,” you stated firmly. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

Instead of receiving something witty from Hyunjae like normal, his relaxed facial features suddenly scrambled into one that expressed remote shock. His lips were slightly parted, eyes searching yours for any hint that indicated you were lying or messing around with him, but you were serious.

The aggressive playfulness from earlier had evaporated faster than boiling water, and you watched as he became stilled. Your heart started pounding, anxiety creeping up within you due to not being able to read Hyunjae like you normally do.

“Since when?” he asked. His voice was quiet, his tone firmer, and by now, Kevin was already by his car, too far from the two of you to understand what was going on. Hell, even you could barely understand what was happening.

“Earth to Hyunjae?” you joked, nervously laughing in an attempt to eliminate the newfound tension looming in the atmosphere. “It’s always been Jiwoong, remember?”

For a moment, Hyunjae could feel his mouth drying up. All his thoughts were held captive in his throat, and his lips remained parted as if they weren’t meant to collide at all. He stared at you like you had just teleported in front of him.

“Y/N,” he stated calmly, “he cheated on you.”

Your initial response was to get defensive, claiming that you already knew that because hell, it was your relationship, but then your brain acknowledged the true elephant in the conversation.

“How-...how the hell do you know about that?”

“I- You know word just-…That doesn’t matter. What matters is why in the world—”

“It was a mistake, okay?”

“A mistake?” As Hyunjae’s brows raised, so did his tone. “You know, people—decent people, don’t make mistakes like that.”

Seeing how Hyunjae was gritting his teeth, how his eyes were locked on yours, built up a foreign frustration within you. Something about the way Hyunjae was behaving felt like he was trying to control you.

All the rage from before had now returned, yet this time, there was no more leniency from you—not when Hyunjae was being more condescending than he had ever been.

“You know nothing, Hyunjae, so frankly, I really don’t care about what you think about my relationship with my boy-”

“You’re still with him??”

“Look,” you snapped. “Just because you have the luxury of crushing my hopes and dreams on a daily basis, it does not give you the right to dictate what’s wrong or right about my love life and my decisions. Understood?”

And just like how you always are, Hyunjae refused to shut up.

“How is it dictating when it’s common sense to dump a shitty person?” He dropped the bags onto the ground, and not once did he look away from you. “He’s never treated you well either, and you know that—”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you repeated. You could feel the three key elements of creating a fire stir up within you. You had the fuel, the oxygen, and the heat, and Hyunjae was the chemical chain reaction that would set it off. “How dense can you fucking be to not back down?”

“He cheated on you,” he reasserted, and there was a rage in his eyes that you had never once encountered. “He’s done so many shitty things, and he hasn’t changed–”

“Again, none of your fucking business–”

“And I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“I am not going to repeat myself-”

“Can’t you just listen to what I-”

“Drop it.” You were seconds away from yelling at him, ready to unleash all your anger because never once has someone threatened your love life—Jiwoong, the man you considered your soulmate. Your flame had officially engulfed his, and all Hyunjae could do was stare at you in disbelief and disappointment.

Turning to look away, you gazed up into the sky and scoffed, not understanding why tears had begun to pool up in your eyes. At the end of the day, Hyunjae meant nothing to you—you didn’t even consider him a friend.

After moments of experiencing what it was like to be suffocated by a tension so unbearable, you eventually found a way to ground yourself.

“I can’t blame him, you know,” you whispered, using the back of your hand to wipe away your tears. “We were angry. He just–...he needed an outlet, and at that time, that outlet happened to not be me, okay?”

Hyunjae stared at you, his mouth desperate to say something, anything, to make you see what he sees—a relationship that isn’t meant to be. That you didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Maybe you were no more than an acquaintance to him, but he knew you have always deserved better.

“He isn’t someone worth fighting for.”

“And that’s none of your business,” you scowled.

“It isn’t right—”

“Stay in your fucking lane, Jae.”

Hyunjae clamped his mouth shut, and the sight of you completely breaking down tore him apart. Possibly it was all the years you spent together growing up, constantly arguing, yet he knew he was always one to look out for you.

You sucked in a cheek, gnawing at it as your chest urged for you to forgive him, to apologize for lashing out without much notice, but in the end, you prioritized your pride over him.

Not only was Hyunjae’s persistence a stab to your heart, but you suspected that Kevin was the one who told him. By spilling your secrets, it was as if Kevin saw the knife that impaled you and yanked it out of your chest, causing you to bleed to your death.

“I’m done with this conversation,” you muttered, dropping the bag in your arms to the ground by his feet. Your plans had changed to you walking home alone, wanting nothing to do with the other two boys for the next hour or so.

When you turned around to walk away, you knew Hyunjae was going to try and say something. You knew him best whenever he was at his worst, so you spun around to face him for the last time that day to cut him off.

“Never fucking cross that line with me again, got it?”

And with that, you left.

Kevin apologized to you the morning after.

He normally drove you to school, and you debated getting into his car when he showed up. Thankfully you chose to do otherwise because the second you stepped inside, Kevin was apologizing profusely. He talked about how anxious he was all night when Hyunjae told him what happened, and he wouldn’t have known what to do if you didn’t forgive him. Obviously you did, and the rest of the car ride was spent with him explaining his side of the story.

According to Kevin, he only told Hyunjae about how you got cheated on because it seemed like Hyunjae already knew. As Kevin recalled the whole scene, you two assessed the signs, such as how Hyunjae didn’t provide any sort of reaction when Kevin dropped the news. In fact, it had seemed like Hyunjae had brought it up to Kevin instead.

Regardless, it became the last of your worries because all that mattered was that you were back to being on good terms with your best friend.

But avoiding Hyunjae felt like lighting a match in the rain.

It was your agonizing reality for the next two months, and although you could argue that you had gotten closer to your boyfriend during the supposed ‘Hyunjae Drought,’ you were still plagued with him being everywhere around you.

He was in all your classes, and you never truly processed the extent of how involved Hyunjae had always been throughout high school with you. You weren’t on the swim team, but you were stuck with him during meetings for both the broadcasting team and student council.

Yet it all felt so different.

Unless he was called on, Hyunjae would talk much less unprovoked and would never look at you during meetings. When he would address the entire team, he would glance at you for a split second before looking elsewhere, no longer watching you like a hawk.

You had also gotten quieter because without Hyunjae to banter with, you recognized that you barely had friends in any of those classes either.

There was no longer a fight between your flames, and you two kept as much distance as possible. You were thankful that there hadn’t been an instance that interrupted that, such as being forced to record more B-roll with him, and you could only hope that the rest of your senior year would remain the same.

Then you would never have to see him in college.

Now you were back to being the mediocre student that faded into the background. People knew your name at best, but none have ever tried to become your friend aside from Kevin. No matter how involved you tried to get, the closest you were to anyone was a classmate.

Hyunjae had always overshadowed you too, and for the first time in years, you were detached from his fumes—yet somehow, some way, the smoke from his fire would remain in your lungs, continuing to suffocate you even more than it had before. It didn’t give you that breath of fresh air of new friends or a better life; instead, it helped you realize that you didn’t matter. It was a miracle that you even scored Jiwoong as your boyfriend.

But then that begged the question: why did Hyunjae bother spending his time ridiculing you?

From the very beginning, you had always meant something to him, and you couldn’t pinpoint how or why. When there was no competition in academics, he treated it as if there was. Every time you ranted, he would listen, whether it be about him or something else. Even when you talked about how your chicken from the cafeteria was burnt, he would give you his own before calling you stupid for not noticing until you sat down.

He never shrugged you off like you were nothing or shut you down because your emotions were invalid. He entertained you each time with ease, and most importantly, he knew when to respect your boundaries. Hyunjae was probably the most mindful person you knew and could often tell when you were distressed or needed another form of reaction from him.

He knew when to stop.

Yet when it came to the one instance involving Jiwoong, he crossed the line multiple times. Why?

“Hyunjae isn’t here today.”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t show up for a single class.”

Kevin watched you play with your food with a fork, rolling the cold, barely spherical peas around and into the stale rice.

“That’s not like him,” he replied.

“Yeah.”

“I wonder why.”

“I wonder too.”

After the driest possible conversation in existence, you sighed and dropped your fork into your tray.

“I need to stop forgetting to pack myself lunch. This shit makes me lose my appetite, I swear. We should call the police and tell them the food they’re serving is illegal and a disgrace to this country.”

“Keep it away before I lose my appetite too.”

You didn’t react nor respond to what Kevin said, letting the conversation rot as you pouted at your food. The cafeteria was unusually louder today, making it easier to space out into thought.

Kevin took out his sandwich with a wide grin and started eating, grateful he never had to deal with what the school was feeding thanks to his mom, but eventually his eyes shifted over to you. You were unmoving with your gaze locked onto an empty spot on the table, so after moments of debating between asking you what’s wrong and ignoring you to devour his lunch, he opted to set his sandwich aside and stared straight at you.

“Why are you thinking about him?”

That was enough to garner your attention, your head snapping up to stare at your best friend like he was the craziest person you knew for mentioning Hyunjae, much less suggesting that your mind was wrapped around him.

“What?”

“Hyunjae. With his perfect attendance, a day without him should be a blessing, yet you brought up how he didn’t show up today and then moped harder than anyone I’ve ever seen mope. You should be over the moon, dancing on the tables and stealing people’s food, not-...” Kevin waved a finger at you, “whatever this is. You seem out of it.”

“Well it’s not because of Hyunjae, I’ll tell you that,” you snorted. Your eyes fell back down to your tray, and the more you looked at it, the more nauseous you got. You scrunched your nose. “If anything, it’s probably because of this shit food.”

Kevin rolled his eyes before tearing his sandwich into halves. You perked at the sight and ogled the half Kevin taunted you with. You were about to thank him and take it into your possession before Kevin jerked back his arm, making you whine.

“Throw away your food, then I’ll give you it.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. As Kevin returned to his delicious, most scrumptious, packed lunch you had ever seen, you picked up your tray and walked it to the nearest trash can. As you dropped the whole thing inside, you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You whipped around to check to see who it was and smiled at the sight of Eunseo waving at you. You wouldn’t consider her a good friend, but you knew her well enough since she was the vice president of the student council.

She ran over to you with a stack of paper in her arms, relieved to have caught you.

“Y/N, hi! I’m so glad I found you. I was scared I wouldn’t because of how packed it is.”

She flashed you her usual glowing smile, and you noticed that she was a bit more giddy than usual, making you question why she was choosing to talk to you in the first place. All your conversations normally took place before, during, and after student council meetings, so this was slightly out of character.

“What’s up?” you asked. As you looked at her, you noticed how her outfit was slightly more put together than it normally was. She had on a cute top that suited her chest perfectly and a skirt that you had never seen her wear.

“Your outfit’s really cute today.”

“Really?!” Her bright demeanor then faded into concern. “Wait, is it too noticeable or out of the blue? Is it bad?”

“No, no. Not at all!” you reassured. “It’s just the right amount of perfect.”

“Great! God, that means the world coming from you. It’s because!...” She stopped to glance around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, before taking a step closer to whisper. “It’s because I was finally asked out on a date by my crush!”

She could barely contain her excitement, holding back a squeal with her bottom lip latched between her teeth. Her sunshine-like energy made you grin.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re making progress.” Your eyebrows pinched as you tried to recall the last time Eunseo had updated you about her crush. “You’ve been pining after him for so long—whoever ‘him’ is, anyway.”

The question of who Eunseo liked had always gone unanswered. She never told anyone, not even the ones who knew her best, but she loved gushing about her mystery crush to everyone she knew. All people really knew, you included, was how down bad she was.

A part of you wondered if it was someone you knew—someone pretty like Juyeon or well-known like…Hyunjae.

“Oh, I wish I could tell you, and maybe I will if things go really well and we become official!” She squealed and hopped in her spot, unable to resist giving you a half-hug with her free arm. “This is so exciting, Y/N!”

“I’m really happy for you.” Your smile was genuine until you thought about why she was looking for you, starting to doubt that she called you over just so she could tell you about her date.

“I’ll let you know how it goes, swear. But! That aside, I also have something for you.”

You knew it.

Your brows raised, and when you didn’t catch on, she gestured to the papers in her arms with guilt.

“I know this is kind of a dick move, and I’m really really sorry, but I promised to put up fliers for prom today. My date is right after my last class.” Her frown had deepened, and for a split second, you found yourself sympathizing with her because who wanted to let down such a cheerful personality, especially when this was life-changing for her?

“So you want me to do it?”

“Exactly! Please, that would be great. It shouldn’t take too long, too.”

You thought about how you would have to give up an evening of playing on your switch or extra time to study for an upcoming exam, but you knew it was your duty as secretary to help out whenever needed.

Not to mention that it would also make you a decent friend not to hold Eunseo back from her soon-to-be love life despite her poor date planning. If you were in her shoes, you would have wanted her to do the same for you too.

“Sure,” you accepted. “Why not?”

“You’re the best, seriously!” She handed you the fliers as she began to fill you in on the extra details.

“I already told Mr. Barajas that I wasn’t feeling well and that you were going to do it, so he said it all worked out and to not worry about it,” she rambled, happy to give the extra weight (both literally and metaphorically) to you. “I just printed these out, so everything should be perfect to go. Oh, and don’t worry about any extras! Just set them on Barajas’s desk when you’re finished. Hyunjae will also be in 142 with tape ready for you.”

The mention of the forbidden name nearly made every cell in your body halt.

“What?”

Eunseo tilted her head at you, confused, before finally realizing.

“Oh crap, I forgot! I’m so sorry, I really did forget you guys weren’t on good terms. I hope it’s okay that he’s helping you out. I mean, he’s supposed to, but it was meant for him and me to do it together, not you two, so…God, I’m really sorry Y/N.”

Before you could even react to the newfound information, she continued.

“I really have to go now. Thank you again! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” And with her rosy pink cheeks and a stunning shade of red on her lips, she basically skipped away and waved goodbye to you with a smile, so you reciprocated it with an awkward one of your own.

When she turned her back, your smile immediately dropped and you sighed heavily.

“Have fun on your date,” you mumbled, your eyes falling to fliers in your arms. As you skimmed the one on top, you noticed it was to promote going to prom while also including a big QR code to vote for who should be your school’s prom king and queen. You expected it since it was the last meeting’s topic of discussion, but what you weren’t aware of was who were listed as nominees.

There were eight names listed under ‘Prom Court,’ and while you expected Hyunjae’s, Eunseo’s, and your boyfriend’s names on it, your jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of your own.

With every passing class period, your anxiety would kick up a notch.

The dread of talking to the face you had been avoiding for two months engulfed you, and it caused you to develop the urge to ditch your current class to go hunt for Jacob, the student council’s historian. You wanted nothing more than to dump the stack of fliers into his arms, and knowing Jacob, he wouldn’t ask any questions. Hell, you were certain that if you asked him nicely, he would do it for you because of how naturally sweet and endearing he was.

But the guilt of ditching your secretary duties kept picking at your skin, and besides, all you had to do was treat Hyunjae like a colleague. That should be easy, right?

As you suffered through the last few minutes of class and your teacher’s incessant ramblings about the upcoming exam, your thoughts drifted over to what would happen the moment you stepped into room 142.

Hyunjae hadn’t shown up to a single class all day, yet he was expected to set up fliers after school. As your thoughts snowballed, you arrived at the baseless conclusion that maybe Eunseo wasn’t aware that Hyunjae was absent today, therefore someone else (like Jacob) would take over.

Suddenly, your back had straightened with feigned interest in your teacher’s last few words. Something about Jacob being there instead of Hyunjae had excited you; it felt like you were free and that the universe was listening to your prayers. The gamble of seeing whether it would be Hyunjae or Jacob (or literally anyone else) had your right leg bouncing, eyes on the clock, and when the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, backpack over your shoulders and fliers in your arms, before dashing out of the classroom.

You sped down the hallway to 142, Mrs. Zhang’s room for Chemistry, bug-eyed, before having your delusions crushed at the sight of Hyunjae’s stupidly large height leaning against one of the counters. Your feet stood glued to the ground by the doorway, your eyes locked onto him.

Covered from head to toe in sweats, Hyunjae was immersed in whatever was on his phone, scrolling through something as his brown curls peeked out from inside his hood. Without any hint of him acknowledging your presence, your shattered hopes slowly began to rebuild.

Maybe if you were quiet enough, you could sneak out with the tape and do everything on your own, avoiding him at all. Actually, scratch that. You didn’t even need the tape. All you had to do was go to another teacher’s room, steal their tape for half an hour, and then return it with ease.

The plan was effortless, and you mentally smacked your forehead for not thinking of it earlier. Right as you were about to execute it, your backpack slammed against the doorframe as you turned on your heels.

“Nice try.”

You groaned out of embarrassment (and slight pain) and forced yourself to turn around. Hyunjae’s phone was now face down on the counter, and his arms were crossed over his abdomen. His face remained stoic as his eyes met yours, wielding a tension you didn’t recognize.

Now that you could properly look at him, you noticed a few details that you hadn’t before, such as the small tear on his lower lip and the bandaid on his cheekbone. If you looked long enough, you could catch light patches of purple across his skin, and the sight hindered all your thoughts, your brain too occupied with piecing together how he ended up like this.

“What happened?” you blurted, your gaze shooting up from his lips to his eyes.

Hyunjae staggered at your suddenty, but he managed to keep himself stilled, his brows pinching.

“What do you mean?”

Even if Hyunjae didn’t mean to, his question became an invitation for your unfiltered thoughts to spill out of your mouth.

“You didn’t show up for any of our classes today,” you began, “but now you’re here? For some stupid fliers? You’re barely dressed properly like you normally are, your hair isn’t straightened, you look pale, Jae, and what’s up with the bruises or the bandaid on your cheek–”

“Are you seriously psychoanalyzing me?” he asked with a scoff. There was no humor in his tone. Instead, it looked as if he was irritated, perhaps even more than you were.

Hyunjae barely met your eyes, and his arms closed himself off from you.

“What–?”

“You’re evaluating me like I’m some sort of lab project, Y/N.”

“No, no I’m not,” you rejected. “I’m just saying things are a little off.” You kept your eyes firm on his, even as he pushed himself off the counter with his phone and made his way over to you. “And you know, you really can’t blame me for being somewhat worried when one, you don’t show up, and two, you look like a whole mess—”

“Just hand over the fliers—” he interrupted, gritting his teeth as he outstretched his arm in your direction. You dodged him by turning your body 180 degrees and stood your ground.

“What happened?” you repeated, this time more firmly.

Hyunjae looked at you, a blank expression on his face, before turning back around to grab the roll of tape left on the teacher’s desk. When he returned, he shoved it into your arms while simultaneously stealing half the stack. You protested with an exclaimed ‘Hey!’ yet he didn’t bat an eye and skimmed over the contents of the flier on top.

Bothered by his lack of response, you frowned and made sure to block the doorway, refusing to let him leave until you received answers.

“Why are you acting like this? Pretending that I’m not even—”

“I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs,” he muttered.

“Did you get into a fight? Why weren’t you here today? Why are you here now—”

“You’d think you’d know,” he finally answered, pushing past you like you weighed none less than a feather.

Your brain had fully malfunctioned at that point, unable to decipher what he meant as Hyunjae walked off to the nearest staircase. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, you thought about what he was implying yet came to no resolution. Did he assume that you were caught up in your school’s latest gossip? Or that you were the main admin for his biggest fan page on Instagram?

The idea made you snort, and you scowled bitterly at his childish attitude. It wasn’t like you were a complete stranger intruding on his personal life—hell, you felt like you deserved an explanation because of how you were forced to do this with him.

As you stormed off past the remaining lingering students to the nearest bulletin board, you questioned how you were going to do this on your own.

You had put up fliers countless times in the past few years yet never alone. Luckily, you had a general idea of where the fliers should go when it came to the school’s hallways, but as you approached your first destination, you struggled with ripping off pieces of tape while holding the stack at the same time. It would’ve been easier with a partner by your side, one who either did the tape ripping or placing of the fliers, but you weren’t desperate enough to fall into the role of a helpless princess in need of her pretty (useless) prince.

After some trial and error, you found a method that consisted of setting the stack on the ground occasionally so you could rip off pieces of tape. Then you would slap said pieces of tape onto your wrist, having them readily available as you put up a few fliers at a time.

Although slightly time-consuming, it was working well and kept you at a steady pace until you heard crashing footsteps behind you from afar. Without paying any mind to it, you bit back your curiosity in order to focus on the wall in front of you, but then you made the mistake of taking a step back, bumping into the person who was sprinting.

You lost your balance and fell forward before catching yourself shortly after. However, the fliers had already flown out of your arms, scattering across and down the long hallway.

Ready to curse out the offender for running down the hallway, you were surprised when you saw that it was Eunseo behind you, pouring out apologies while a loopy grin was smacked onto her face.

You steadied your anger and told her it was okay, getting down onto your knees to collect all the fliers. Her ‘sorry’s could only go so far with her smeared lipstick, a dazed gaze, and her hair holding the mold to someone else’s (presumably her crush’s) hands in them, but you still excused her, knowing that she was over the moon right now.

“It’s okay, Eunseo, I promise.” You forced out a chuckle as you crawled to scavenge for the ones that flew a few feet away.

“I really didn’t mean to,” she pouted, but it was shortly followed up with bubbly giggles. “God, Y/N, can you believe this? Oh, it’s going so well! I think I love him, I do.”

“Good for you,” you grumbled, hoping that she didn’t hear it as you continued to move down the hallway, hating how far the fliers had escaped from you. You also hated how she just stood there without intent on helping you at all.

“I have to really go now. Got volleyball practice soon, but I think I’m seeing him tomorrow too!” She waved you goodbye.

And just like that, she continued running off.

You stared at how you were only able to collect half the mess, hating how Eunseo had somehow managed to delay you even further from being in the comfort of your bed. You were also salty at how her date was taking place at the school, wishing she could’ve dragged him around while she taped stuff up before getting dick-downed of some sort.

Deciding that she and her business weren’t worth your time, you continued to pick everything up as quickly as you could, wanting nothing more than to go home.

When you finally finished collecting every last flier, you were prepared to get back into the groove of things before feeling your phone vibrate in the side pocket of your backpack. Wondering if it was something important, you took it out and beamed at the idea of it being a new message from Jiwoong.

Dating him felt like falling in love with him all over again whenever he texted. Your heart would pound in your chest when you thought about him and explode whenever he gave you his attention and time. You were addicted to him, especially knowing that he was yours after liking him since middle school.

So to say you were disappointed was far worse than an understatement. It was from a number you hadn’t saved yet always recognized and undoubtedly remembered by heart.

Of course it was Hyunjae.

You had Hyunjae’s phone number due to previous class projects and group chats, but you had never once saved it because you thought he was undeserving of being a contact in your phone. Nonetheless, with how the years have passed and how much his number infiltrates every group chat you were in, it was only fair that your brain had unintentionally memorized all ten digits.

The message he sent consisted of him saying that he was done with the fliers, and you rolled your eyes. Even after the way he treated you earlier, he still chose to let you know and brag about how fast he was.

You shoved your phone away vigorously, ready to return to your slapping-fliers-on-walls duty, before perking at the sound of footsteps behind you once more.

Automatically assuming it was Eunseo or another student staying after for a club or sport, you were stunned when you heard his voice.

“You’re not even halfway yet?”

In no fucking universe are you turning around; not for him.

“Go gloat somewhere else,” you snapped. The next flier you taped up was nearly slammed onto the wall, but Hyunjae was left unphased by your sudden outburst. He stood next to you and remained quiet, even when you left to place the next flier a few feet away on the opposite wall.

When he didn’t follow, you sighed out of relief, yet somehow you couldn’t help but peek at him, eyeing his hands that were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was staring straight at the lopsided flier you had put up, and when you decided you had enough of peering at him, he was back by your side.

“What are you doing?” you grumbled. He was the one who pushed you away, yet now here he was, glued to your side like how he was two months ago.

“You’re taking too long.”

“I had a mishap,” you explained, “but that’s none of your concern.” The lines on your forehead bunched up, and you waved him off, bending down to place the stack on the ground. Figuring it wasn’t weird at all, you continued your method of ripping off pieces of tape and slapping it onto your wrist.

And Hyunjae was totally judging.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just go home.”

Despite being on the ground and sitting on your heels, you could physically feel the heat on the back of your head due to his eyes burning a hole into your skull, and for a split second, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I can do it myself,” you explained.

“What are you even doing?”

“Can you just go?” You picked up the stack once again as you rose to your feet, doing your best to avoid whatever look was on Hyunjae’s face. He was probably stifling a laugh or keeping his expression smug, but when you did cave and peek, his face was still solemn, his eyes on your wrist with concern.

“You’re struggling.”

“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Obvious,” you retorted.

“Let me do it.”

Taken aback, you whipped your head over to his direction.

“You’re kidding.”

“You don’t even want to be here,” he reasoned through gritted teeth. “Just go, and you can thank me later.”

“Thank you?!” Appalled at his audacity, you couldn’t help but laugh out of disbelief. “Seriously, Hyunjae? You want me to thank you for stealing my job? Again? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Because you can’t take any criticism ever, or in this case, any form of help, so just let me do it.”

Hyunjae was eerily calm about the whole ordeal, his energy far from matching yours.

“I do take help,” you refuted. “I just don’t take yours, and neither do I need it, too.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.” And within a blink of an eye, he had managed to snatch the stack of fliers from you.

“Hey!” you yelled, feeling as if it was deja vu from earlier (you really needed to step up your defense), and reached out to take them back, but he was quick to turn his body, shielding them from you.

“Give me the tape and go,” he urged, emotionless. The Hyunjae in front of you now was someone you truly didn’t recognize because the Hyunjae you knew would have made fun of you and held the fliers above your head, teasing you for being so weak.

Yet he stood still, creating a barrier between you and the duty that was forced upon you. You didn’t want to be here anyway, yet you were so insistent on making sure Hyunjae wasn’t stealing your work again. You weren’t incapable, and you hated how he always managed to be faster.

Even now, he was miles away from being playful with you, and yet he still had a way to shove it in your face.

“Hyunjae, I swear—”

“Give me the tape, and you can run off to your little boyfriend waiting for you by the entrance.”

Your lips parted at his words, eyes wide as you worked to comprehend his words. You questioned how he knew about Jiwoong’s whereabouts, how he knew that Jiwoong was waiting and that you didn’t, but knowing that he was serious, you reluctantly gave up and dropped the roll of tape on the ground, forcing him to pick it up.

You were sick of constantly arguing with him, and even if he was lying about Jiwoong, at least you would be away from Hyunjae. There was no point in fighting for your dignity anymore, not when Hyunjae’s narcissism was insufferable.

By walking away with heavy and quick strides, you hoped he felt humiliated by how poorly he was treating you—how he had always treated you like this.

As much as you wanted it to be true, you hoped Hyunjae was lying just so you had more evidence against his self-absorbed and shitty personality, but alas, you found Jiwoong standing precisely where Hyunjae said he was.

Regardless, all stress and frustrations had lifted from your being, and you called out to your boyfriend with a smile that would make your cheeks ache in minutes.

“Woong!” You waved your hands with a small bounce in your steps as you rushed over to him.

Your boyfriend’s head shot up, surprised to see you. His utter shock quickly switches to one of sheer happiness, tucking his device away before opening his arms for you.

“Hey, baby!”

You tossed yourself into his embrace, hugging him tight after pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” With your face in his neck, your voice came out muffled, and it made Jiwoong laugh.

“Had to stay after to discuss my grades with a teacher, then I decided to stay back a bit for you.” He cooed and kissed the top of your head, holding you incredibly close. When you pulled back, his hands had moved from behind your backpack to your hips instead, holding them as you stared up at him.

“You were waiting for me?” you asked, eyes wide with stars in them.

“Of course I was, baby.”

You were radiating, feeling happier than ever. The last time you saw Jiwoong was a week ago, and with your clashing schedules, you two very rarely get the opportunity to make plans. Your hands rested atop his shoulders, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you smiled.

But then it fell.

Something felt off.

If someone were to inquire Hyunjae about who his heart belonged to, your name would be his answer—whether he intended to say it or not.

Hyunjae had always been considered the school’s favorite. His intelligence may not be up to par with others, but his authority was what made him a prominent member of your high school. Some blame it on his looks, but most were aware enough to know that wasn’t the case.

Hyunjae knew how to think on his feet, and his problem-solving skills outwitted everyone within his grade level. Reaching tranquillity had never been an issue for him, allowing him to be levelheaded while making decisions. He emitted an aura that made classmates truly listen to him and the ideas he shared, and overall, it made him a great contender to lead every group and organization he was in.

Additionally, Hyunjae’s heart was what won over most people. His lack of vulnerability seemed to be his only flaw, but it was an obstacle he could overlook when it came to empathizing with others. By actively being involved in the community through volunteering and holding fundraisers, everyone could recognize Hyunjae’s devotion to hope for humanity.

All these traits were what led Hyunjae up onto the pedestal and the public eye, a household name for all families in the district. Titles and awards naturally gravitated towards him throughout the years, resulting in him winning the vote as president of your school’s student council and enough scholarships to provide him a full ride at most universities.

It was safe to say that competition against Lee Hyunjae was sparse, and you were no different.

Your grades would teeter around his standard, hence how you two collectively ended up in the same classes, but aside from that, you had nothing else that could compare to what he was capable of.

Except for one thing; your fury.

There was an inferno inside you at all times, and instead of your body shielding off your heart with steel, people around you would come to find out that your heart was the reason for that large blaze of fire, possessing a passion unlike any other.

Hyunjae had never once seen a peer with as much fight as you. It was a trait only you encapsulated, one that you weren’t afraid to express. You stood up for yourself and your beliefs, and it was easy to pick fights with him when he had been troubling you from the very moment you two were assigned to sit next to each other in seventh-grade algebra.

Hyunjae yearned for you ever since, his only want being your attention. You gave him the drive to succeed in high school and thrive in his senior year, and he was positive that he wouldn’t be doing this well without a reason to show off in front of you. He wanted your praise, your acknowledgment, but he loved the chase the most.

Unfortunately, that was the exact reason he ended up here.

The chase was what made him fall for every part of you, wanting nothing more than your lips on his and the ability to have you by his side at all times, but it was also what landed you with your current boyfriend.

It was like his life was a video game with God giving him the hardest difficulty setting by making sure you were obsessed with someone undeserving of all that he wanted. There wasn’t even a chance of you two possibly being friends in your eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjae would argue that you two had more chemistry than any other couple in your class, but that hope was crushed, shredded, and stomped on when he found out you still devoted your love to Jiwoong.

Regardless, it didn’t change who you were as a person. Your heart was still just as large and beautiful, and your drive to succeed hadn’t lessened. The bickering never faltered, and it wasn’t like Hyunjae was opposed whenever you expressed disgust at the thought of him being turned on because of you (and that was because he found the idea of you thinking about him hot—yes, his expectations were that low).

So it was why after two months of almost zero to no contact, you treating him as if those months didn’t exist created the largest dilemma he had ever faced. He spent the next week thinking about your intentions and why you seemed to care so much, specifically right after when Hyunjae had willed himself to believe that he meant jackshit to you. You effortlessly toyed with his heart, leaving him in everlasting misery, while you seemed to do completely fine.

What was a typical and ideal lifestyle for you was a nightmare and tormenting hellhole for Hyunjae. He didn’t just crave the warmth and comfort from your undying flames.

He wanted to burn.

Insanity engulfed him on the days spent without you, leaving him to wonder why you had to make things extensively worse by pointing out his absence or how he had put less effort into his hair. Why did it seem like the concern you expressed was genuine? Why pretend that you cared for him as much as he cared for you?

He was going insane—so insane that he drove to a college party with three other friends in his sedan on a Wednesday night.

It was being held by a fraternity he and his friends were far more than familiar with thanks to Jongin, an upperclassman he met in his sophomore year and remained friends with since then. The beginning of the senior year marked the origin of parties and hook-ups in weak sporadic attempts to get over you.

At this rate, Hyunjae could argue that he was more experienced than half of the current college freshmen class. Getting girls in bed was the easiest part; the hardest part was forgetting about you. From what was a method created to move on from you became one that prepared him for when you wanted sex with him.

But with your constant longing for Jiwoong, Hyunjae made sure that this party would be different.

Although accustomed to having sex with various women, Hyunjae had never been one to drink. This was a fact about him that raised brows, specifically Jongin’s when he first tried urging Hyunjae with a drink, but tonight he vowed to change that. He was normally their designated driver, but when Hyunjae informed Sangyeon of his plan, the elder was more than delighted to remain sober so Hyunjae could get a taste of alcohol.

“Hey, man! It’s about time!” Jongin exclaimed the instant he found out about Hyunjae’s willingness to drink, pulling a fresh bottle out of the cooler specifically for his friend.

“That’s what I told him!” Sangyeon projected his voice over the music, giving Hyunjae a supportive pat on the back.

Hyunjae rolled his eyes at his friends’ remarks and thanked Jongin for the beer, hanging around by the counter as the three conversed and caught up. The two laughed at the way Hyunjae’s face scrunched up at the taste, Sangyeon shoving him lightly with the claim that Hyunjae was being overdramatic.

With his earlier mindless decision of tossing on a mesh long-sleeve shirt over his black tank top, Hyunjae had attracted another partygoer by his side momentarily after his first sip. She wrapped her arms around one of his and inserted herself into the conversation with hopes of getting Hyunjae in bed by the end of the night, and crazily enough, he considered it for a moment before feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Normally it would be something he’d ignore, but it remained persistent, signifying that he was receiving a call. He didn’t know who would be calling at this hour—well, aside from Minghao and his usual complaints about Hyunjae partying as a high schooler on a school night.

After setting the glass down on the counter to grab his phone, any urgency to intoxicate himself as quickly as possible vanished the very second he saw your name glowing on his screen. With an awkward retraction of his arm and a forced cough, Hyunjae excused himself and answered the call.

“Hello?”

With music pounding inside his ear canals, it was expected that he couldn’t hear anything you were saying. He navigated through various crowds to reach the entrance of the house, his heart replicating the booming vibrations from the loudspeakers as he prayed that you wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Okay, I…I should be free now,” he stammered after stepping outside. The sudden stillness of Mother Nature was a drastic change from the party scene, coercing him to focus on his racing heartbeat and the anxiety accumulating in his tightening chest. He was breathing heavily, both from pushing through people in a rush and also because of you.

You never failed to render him weak and helpless, leaving him like a puppy longing for their owner’s guidance.

There was a silence, but he could hear your gentle breaths hitting your phone.

“I need a ride.”

Hyunjae blinked, his body tensing up, as the many thoughts in his brain scrambled to make meaning of what you meant. However, it didn’t matter because you hung up shortly after, leaving him alone to revel in your words.

Your bluntness and suddenty made Hyunjae malfunction, his thoughts leading him to question if he had even heard you correctly. Rarely did you ever reach out to him, and what could you need him for? Especially after lashing out at him and ignoring him for two months? Of course, there was that one day a week ago when you two were forced to talk together, the day he was given a one-day suspension, but you two returned to treating each other like strangers like it was natural.

He stared at his phone in hopes of receiving more information, that you’d perhaps call again to reconfirm or say you had the wrong number. He felt like he was dreaming—that the person he had wanted for so long needed him for once, but he couldn’t help but also believe that this may be the beginning of another nightmare.

But it was you, and Hyunjae was willing to risk it.

After checking his call logs to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he rushed back into the fraternity house, thankful he didn’t proceed with drinking any more than he did.

He found everyone exactly where he had left them (the girl included) and announced his departure. The girl made sure Hyunjae knew how disappointed she was, but that was his last concern as he grabbed the beer bottle and handed it to Sangyeon, giving him a pat on the back.

“Drink up and find an Uber.”

“No fucking way you’re leaving us this soon, man.” Jongin shook his head in disapproval, his forearms resting against the countertop.

“Another time, I promise, yeah?” Hyunjae started walking away, waving to them as his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

“He’s lying,” Sangyeon snorted, taking a swig before bidding Hyunjae a bitter goodbye. “You owe me!"

Hyunjae ran out of the house, his legs making quick and long strides as he ran to his parked car down the block. His newfound adrenaline made him think about what he was sacrificing to be with you. Was leaving the party and betraying his friends worth spending even a second with you? What if you were asking him to drive you and your boyfriend somewhere? Could his heart even deal with being used like that?

But as much as Hyunjae hated it, he knew he was making the right choice. The self-respect he had for himself was buried six feet deep beneath the surface of the earth when it came to you.

God, he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

For a split second, Hyunjae truly debated what he was doing after getting into his car. He was already driving, but he didn’t know where to go. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to send him a text with your location, and it was a place he was familiar with.

It was a park that he often frequented as a kid since it resided by his old neighborhood, and he was thankful he knew exactly where to go because he knew he would’ve definitely crashed the car while pulling up your location on his GPS. Hyunjae was doubtful it was the alcohol in his system making his fingers shake and his mind uneasy. He blamed you for his hysteria, one that had developed over years of endless longing.

Luckily the drive wasn’t long thanks to the roads being mainly void of other vehicles (and maybe he did speed a few times, but he considered it justified). Before pulling into the parking lot, he spotted a lone figure curled up on a nearby bench. A small weight had been lifted off of him, relieved it was just you, and he parked aimlessly while his eyes rested on you.

You seemed unphased by his added presence, your arms unmoving as they stayed wrapped around your legs. The bench you were sitting in was facing away from the parking lot, but with his headlights illuminating the view in front of you, you certainly had to know he was there.

In an ideal world, Hyunjae would leave his car, join you by your side, and, if he was lucky, he’d pull you into his arms and hold you close against his chest. He wanted to be there for you in whatever way he could, but he ended up being a deer in headlights, too afraid to make the wrong move and lose you again.

He sat there for a minute, watching you, and as soon as he received the confidence to reach for the handle of his door, you were up on your feet. His fingers paused midair as he traced your movements, his arm eventually falling to his side as you approach his car.

Despite how slow his mind was working, Hyunjae knew to unlock the car right as you opened it (he would’ve died out of embarrassment if he had forgotten), and neither of you greeted the other.

Without any explanation from you, Hyunjae refrained from staring at you like he normally would, but your outfit made it incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much, just an oversized long-sleeved shirt that reached your thighs, but it was far from the usual clothes he’d seen you wear, like jeans and a nice-fitting blouse. For a moment, he believed you had no pants on, but then he knocked some sense into himself, realizing that you were probably wearing shorts that were hidden.

While Hyunjae attempted to keep his composure and respect your boundaries, you were eyeing him shamelessly, once again analyzing every detail about him. Beads of sweat pooled up on the back of his neck, and his hair was straightened yet fuzzy. As your eyes trailed downwards, you noticed how the mesh hugged his biceps, catching every crease that defined his muscles. He was quiet, his index finger resting against his lips.

Where did he even come from?

And why was he so quick to listen?

You held back your tongue from dumping out your thoughts, knowing your questions would end up unanswered like before. Your body instinctively rested against the divot between the car door and your seat, keeping your distance from Hyunjae. He was meant to be a stranger, perhaps someone you loathed, yet there was an odd comfort that encased you from him just sharing the same air as you.

You cleared your throat, turning your head to look away when he flinched and snapped his gaze towards you.

“Drive.”

Your demand was no louder than a whisper, but Hyunjae picked it up effortlessly and was already backing out.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Hyunjae raised a brow at your answer, and you buried yourself further into his seat, directing your gaze out the door. “Just-...anywhere, Jae.”

The nickname had his throat tightening and his chest leaping, nodding in your direction as he drove on autopilot. With no destination in mind, he strolled through familiar roads, his fingers tapping against the wheel.

You stayed silent, creating a tension that was unbearably thick, yet none of you felt the need to leave; neither of you wanted to leave the other, even if it meant having to deal with the looming elephant in the room (or in this case, Hyunjae’s car).

After spotting the recreational center from afar and its empty parking lot, he instinctively pulled in. There wasn’t a proper explanation for why he decided it’d make a great destination, especially when it was the place that created a rift in your relationship with him, but it felt right.

It was empty, open, and serene—a perfect place to stay as the moon shined.

Hyunjae stepped out of the car after parking in the middle of it, and when you didn’t follow, he moved to your side and opened the door. He was hesitant but took the risk of offering his hand to you, a warm, nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to know he was there to listen, to be there for you, because, Lord, he would hand you the world if he could.

“I’m not in the mood for walking,” you mumbled, but Hyunjae shook his head.

“We’re not going to walk, I promise.”

Your eyes flickered up to his briefly, skeptical of what he had planned, but ultimately caved. You ignored his hand, and he pulled it back with regret. When you stood there, your eyes on the sky, he closed the door behind you and guided you to the hood of his car.

Without a second thought, he sat on top of it and gestured for you to do the same.

“I sit here all the time. Helps me think.” He leaned back against his windshield, his hands holding the back of his head as he kept his eyes on the sky. When you didn’t move, he started to feel stupid, wondering if you two were better off in the car, but then you joined him.

You copied his position, staring upwards as your hands rested over your abdomen.

Hyunjae opted to keep to himself, deciding that he didn’t want to make this worse for the two of you. Instead, he fixated his thoughts on the stars in the sky.

There were only a few, but it was a rare sight due to the constant air pollution in your city, so he considered it a miracle. You, on the other hand, were spacing out in thought, and Hyunjae could tell through his occasional peeks. Without much control, his eyes started tracing down your arms. They then landed on where the hem of your shirt rested, now looking at your bare thighs.

Feeling as if he just reverted back to being the shyest virgin in the country, he gulped and immediately looked elsewhere, trying to get you off his mind despite you being right next to him. His racing heart was all that he could hear, and now he wondered if you could hear it too—if you knew how much you affected him.

And your voice broke the silence.

“How long have you known?”

Okay, maybe his brain did fall out of his skull because Hyunjae had no idea what you were talking about. He turned his head and caught how you stared up at the sky. Your eyes were glossy, holding the reflections of the whole galaxy within them. They sparkled, and for a beat, Hyunjae had forgotten your question, too infatuated with your beauty.

His silence resulted in you turning your head, gaze meeting his, and that was when he noticed the tears.

“About Jiwoong and Eunseo.”

Your light, your flames, his burning desire; all were gone in a flash.

Your voice was delicate, and Hyunjae knew that with one move, he could break you.

Directing his gaze heavenward, Hyunjae sighed and brought his arms down to rest over his chest. Somehow he was able to feel all the pain you were experiencing, his heart twisting while his stomach churned and sloshed around in his body. He thought about how to respond as he chewed on the inside of his lip, questioning if he should answer at all to avoid hurting you.

But you asked, and as always, Hyunjae delivered.

“I don’t think I ever really knew until last week,” he explained, “but I could always tell.” Suddenly, the fight from a week ago had resurrected, and Hyunjae was forced to relive it all.

The hallways were empty when Hyunjae left the broadcasting room, a backpack strap slung over his shoulder while the other dangled behind him. He was in the middle of scrolling through his emails when he picked up on the sound of Jiwoong’s voice around the corner.

His footsteps halted, and Hyunjae caught Jiwoong’s fatal words.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Eunseo’s squeals followed after, and Hyunjae stood motionless.

At first, Hyunjae had no thoughts circulating in his brain, but after hearing their lips collide, he started coming up with solutions, such as interrupting or taking a video to send to you. Unfortunately, before he could act on either of them, he heard footsteps dashing off, practically skipping, as the two bidded one another goodbye.

Hyunjae couldn’t pinpoint the reasoning behind his upcoming actions, but he knew how to describe how he felt.

Anger was the first and only emotion to surge up within him, his fingers instinctively balling up into fists. His muscles had tightened while a forest fire ran rampant through his veins, causing his blood to boil.

Then with quick strides, Hyunjae shoved his phone away and made a sharp turn around the corner, tossing his backpack on the ground after spotting Jiwoong against the lockers. The latter had a dazed look on his face, his lips curled into a smirk as he typed away on his phone, but that was changed once he looked up at the sound of Hyunjae’s backpack crashing against the ground in front of him.

There wasn’t a second in between Jiwoong’s face of surprise and Hyunjae’s arm being raised, and before Jiwoong could react, Hyunjae’s fist had slammed into his jaw.

It was a blur from there, but Hyunjae knew he had won even after authorities dragged him off Jiwoong’s body. He had received a few jabs in return, but it was nothing compared to the black eye Hyunjae gave him.

The fact that Jiwoong managed to cover it up with makeup the day after was a miracle, and no one in the school knew about the fight since it happened after school. Hyunjae wanted it to stay that way, but a selfish, cruel part of him wished that everyone knew how sick your boyfriend was.

Well, now he was unsure if he was still your boyfriend.

Hyunjae turned his head back towards you, his cheek meeting the cold metal of his car.

You pursed your lips at his response and nodded slowly. If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have believed him. There was no universe where you’d choose to listen to Hyunjae over Jiwoong, but after a week of investigating and getting your head out of your ass, you found out on your own terms, and all the pieces made sense.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Hyunjae’s voice jerked you out of your thoughts, and as you adjusted to look back at him, you were surprised to still find him staring at you.

“I’m not a violent person, Y/N,” he whispered, an enduring hope lingering in his eyes. He wanted you to believe him, and for once, you did; you truly understood the man you hated most.

“I know, Jae.”

Hyunjae eased at your words, and the two of you fell back into a more comfortable yet aching silence. His fingers drummed against his abdomen, and after a while, he got sick of looking at the same four stars, so he closed his eyes, focusing on enjoying the light breeze instead. His heart was still racing, but it was less alarming. Regardless, he hated knowing that he potentially contributed to how much you were hurting right now.

Maybe if he had done something to prevent it earlier, whether it be telling you as soon as he found out or keeping completely out of your business so you could live in bliss, or, if he wasn’t so scared, he could’ve asked you to be his far before Jiwoong had. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, but Hyunjae would never know since he never tried, and now he was going to beat himself over it because now you’re devastated over losing your boyfriend and it was potentially his faul—

You laughed.

Hyunjae snapped his head towards you, his brows raised at your sudden change in mood—but it wasn’t the type of laugh he expected. Your laugh was one filled with pain, and he watched you shake your head, trying to refuse the tears that were rapidly welling up in your eyes once more. You sniffed and wiped the tears away with the back of your hand, choosing to look in the opposite direction because the last thing you wanted was for Hyunjae to see you vulnerable.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “This entire thing is stupid. I’m so fucking dumb.”

His lips parted to interject, to tell you that you were, in fact, ‘not dumb,’ but he clamped his mouth shut, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t help. From what he’d learned in the past, you liked it least when he tried telling you otherwise, no matter the situation.

“I should’ve known. I did know. The whole world knew. Even you knew, but it makes me think, was Eunseo just flocking around, flaunting to everyone that she had a crush on my boyfriend and managed to win him over? I just—I…I don’t know-...” You paused to catch your breath, beginning to choke on your tears as your chest shook, “I don’t know what I did wrong, you know?”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pain to engulf you. You knew fully well that your punishment was to deal with the pain, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it—that you deserved none of this. Why was this a penalty for being in love?

It was humiliating having everyone witness the reality you shielded from yourself, choosing hope and love over the truth.

“I just never felt more stupid in my life, and I feel even more stupid knowing that I still love him.”

Hyunjae sucked in his lips, gnawing on them as he bit back all his feelings, from his brain shredding to his heart weeping.

“I love him so much that I would let him do it to me all over again because I keep thinking he’d be better. I know he can be better, so why-...It’s just- Why do I do this to myself?”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, each one leaving behind a trail for others to fall. They started pouring out of you rapidly, soon sobbing at the heart-wrenching pain of being betrayed by everyone in your life, Hyunjae included, because why, out of everyone, was he here for you when he should be the last person who cared?

You always wanted Hyunjae to be the antagonist of your life story, to have him as your biggest enemy and threat, so why was everyone else but him hurting you? Why was the villain of your fantasy taking the role of your knight in shining armor?

And yet, as much as it pained Hyunjae to process all your emotions, his mind wasn’t running correctly; he had you alone for the first time in months. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in his arms and whisper words of comfort in your ears, knowing you deserved it more than anyone, but he also wanted to shake you awake and slap you out of your misery, praying that you’d forget about Jiwoong; that right now, you being vulnerable was his chance to swoop in, to set whatever you wanted him to into flames, as long as if it meant you’d end up okay.

You sat up because if you lied down any longer, you would’ve started drowning in your own tears. Your sleeves were soaked, and he sat up alongside you, figuring that he should do something about it.

Hyunjae got back onto his feet and stood in front of you. He barely knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him from replacing your sleeves with his cold, clammy hands over your cheeks. There wasn’t a time that Hyunjae could recall where he had been this gentle with someone, and when you didn’t push him away, he tilted your head up to look at him.

Even with tears running down your cheeks, you looked angelic as ever.

Each droplet mirrored a star from the sky, and your eyes sparkled as they stayed locked on his.

“Take me,” you whispered, and Hyunjae’s whole world stopped.

“...What?” Hyunjae had only intended to wipe your tears away with the pads of his hands, perhaps whisper something along the lines of him being here for you for the night (and the rest of his life, let’s be honest), yet your first words were—no, he had to have been hallucinating.

Your hands trembled as they reached for his wrist, and although you were severely broken, the grip your fingers created was firm.

“Please.”

Like a moth to a flame, Hyunjae admired how pretty you looked, your lips plump and eyes wide, and he wanted nothing more than to take you into his backseat and treat you the way he’d always wanted to, especially after hearing your pleas, but he knew better. You both knew better.

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked, feeling like you had just inhaled all his oxygen and left him breathless.

You released his wrist and opted to hold onto his sleeve, tugging on it as you tried to get him to understand you.

“I want it to hurt, Jaehyun.”

Your tears were gone, and there was a hint of dominance in your tone that would’ve had him dropped to his knees in front of you. You were also one of the very few who resorted to calling him Jae, and now his actual name. He favored Hyunjae, but after hearing ‘Jaehyun’ from your lips, his preference had completely made a turnaround.

But Hyunjae worked to collect his thoughts, fully aware that this was wrong and he’d have to be the bigger person here. As much as he hated himself for giving up the perfect opportunity to have the girl of his dreams, he couldn’t ignore the large concern over your current mental state.

“You’re not thinking straight, Y/N,” he reasoned softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, and for a second, Hyunjae swore he felt the alcohol kicking in—or perhaps it was you instead. The thought of being able to have you right now, to touch you and press his hands over your skin, to have you as his for just this night, was so intoxicating that he was seconds away from foaming at the mouth.

“I don’t need to think straight. I don’t want to think at all.”

Everything felt hotter and tighter, but he kept his composure, though with his eyes dropping to your begging lips and then your delicate fingers, he knew he was beginning to lose whatever was left of his sanity.

But he also knew you were using him; you had to be. There was no other explanation. It was only minutes ago when you professed how you continued to feel about Jiwoong—that your heart still belonged to him, and Hyunjae was allowed nowhere near it. He was your backup, your second option, yet that happened to be better than nothing, right?

Especially when he could have you right here, right now.

“You’re using me.”

Your expression didn’t falter.

“Then say no. Make us go back into your car and drive me home.” Your hand dropped from holding onto his sleeve but that was so you could wrap your arms around his neck, slowly bringing yourself closer to him. His cheeks were flushed as his mind flooded with possibilities of what could happen. Never had you ever wanted him, and he’d been dreaming of a moment like this for years. Your tear-stained cheeks, your pouty red lips—he wanted all of you.

“But you won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes landed on his lips, now craving him as much as he craved you. You needed a release, an outlet, to justify Jiwoong being better than Hyunjae. Hyunjae was worse in every way possible, and you wanted him to prove that to you. “You’d do anything I’d say, wouldn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Little did you know Hyunjae was crumbling inside, completely melting as his fingers grew weak at the idea of your lips on his. His hands, although wary, traveled to your waist, feeling your curves before trailing his hands down to your hips to grip them.

“You love me, don’t you?”

His heart stuttered, all words caught up in his throat, but he knew there was no defending himself—not when he was practically drooling at every move you made; he was hyperaware of the hand playing with the hair on his nape, the way your lips nearly hovered over his, and how your tears glistened under the moonlight.

His entire existence was confirmation of your words, and you knew it.

“You’d do anything for me, Jae. What’s stopping you now?”

There was a stillness as you two stared at one another. He swallowed and pulled slightly back.

He knew better.

“You don’t want me.” He was brokenhearted, a part of him understanding that you’d never be his, yet he wanted you in so many ways, wishing to have your mewls fill his ears and the smell of sex staining his clothes. The bulge in his pants was forming and pressing up against the tight confinement, making him groan.

He dropped his head downwards, his forehead leaning to rest against yours, as he closed his eyes and did his best to regulate his breathing—repeating in his head and out loud, again.

He knew better.

“You’re using me.”

You both knew better.

Yet with your lips ghosting his and your eyes half-hooded, you were prepared to give into the dark side.

“And I say take advantage of it.”

Hyunjae dived and pressed his lips onto yours, hunger driving his every movement. There was no stopping when he felt your lips curling up into a grin, his hands shifting to wrap around your torso to drag you closer. His heart burst at how perfectly his lips molded with yours, and it seemed as if there was fire shooting up into the sky and exploding—they weren’t fireworks, and the explosion was far bigger and more dangerous. It lit the entirety of the sky, the moon and stars included, into flames, a desire unlike any other.

Your left hand pressed firm against the back of his neck while the other traveled through his hair. Meanwhile, his hands had snuck beneath your shirt and felt for your lower back. Heavy breaths left the two of you as desperation crept through your veins, dictating your every movement.

The cold touch from his hands ignited your nervous system, every sense activated and overstimulated by Hyunjae as you released a breathy moan into his mouth.

You didn’t want him, but fuck, you needed him.

When you would pull back, his lips would chase yours, and you two fell into an endless cycle. He couldn’t even fathom how you were pulling away for air when you were his oxygen. Maybe you weren’t oxygen itself, but the fumes you emitted had already replaced his need for air, deluding him into believing that you were what he needed to stay alive.

You were suffocating, toxic, and destructive, and he wanted more.

After retracting from the kiss for the nth time, you turned your head to hold Hyunjae back from continuing. You both were panting, your cunt soaking, and he stared into your eyes like a puppy awaiting their next direction.

“Good boy,” you praised, and he laughed lowly and sheepishly, dropping his head as he processed what happened and the idea of it being potentially over.

“You’re lethal,” he breathed out.

“And you’re pitiful,” you spat. There was a playful grin on your lips, but those words ignited something within Hyunjae. He raised his head and cocked a brow at you, questioning your genuinity.

Just minutes ago you were crying over a guy that treated you terribly, and yet here you thought you had the authority to call him weak.

Perhaps he was; he was falling deeper into your pitless trap, enticed with every movement of yours, but he knew for a fact you weren’t any better than him.

You both were sick in the head for falling for people that treated the other like shit, yet your drive, your fuel, to win over the hearts of the people you loved was so strong, and it made you two unstoppable.

Hyunjae would punch Jiwoong all over again if he could.

Without a second thought, Hyunjae ducked his head down and ruthlessly attached his lips to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. He kissed your skin fervently, his fingers teasing the rim of your shorts, and your hands shifted to hold onto his shoulders for support. You found yourself tossing your head back, providing him more room to do as he pleased, that if Jiwoong were to see you with marks on your neck, then maybe he’d want you back.

“Bold of you to call me pitiful,” he grumbled, sucking onto your neck until a blot of purple began to form.

“But it’s true, no?”

“You’re just as bad, Y/N.” He licked a stripe up your neck and over the mark, and the sensation made you cringe, disgust itching at your skin due to being covered in his saliva, but you wanted more of it. You wanted Hyunjae to treat you like you were nothing, to treat you worse than Jiwoong ever had, so you could direct your blame over to Hyunjae instead of your unknowing boyfriend.

You turned your head and slotted your lips with his again, already addicted to how perfect they were for you. Hyunjae knew the exact way to kiss you, to keep you on your toes, as your slick pooled up in your underwear at the mere thought of Hyunjae touching you.

The kiss was eager, a fight for control, and when Hyunjae didn’t surrender, you raised your knee, forcing your thigh to brush up against his crotch.

He gasped at the sensation and pulled away, bangs hanging over his eyes as he looked down at the sight. You teased him by keeping your touches gentle, but you made sure to keep your leg moving. Nothing intrigued you more than seeing Hyunjae beg or rut against your thigh, further proof of how pathetic he was for you. You gained a sense of ego knowing that he could have any girl in the world, that he has had every girl, and yet he would always come back to you. Now that you had him, it would be harder for him to return to a life without you under him, moaning his name.

You wanted to be his downfall.

Your nails latched onto the mesh, taking note of how easy it would be to rip the material, before pressing your thigh firmly up against his dick, making him jerk.

“You’re-...oh my god, Y/N,” he gasped, breathless. His eyes meet your devious ones, how you were basically Satan himself, and somehow, someway, he wouldn’t ask for anything different. “You’re playing a losing…a losing- game.”

“What more do I have left to lose?” There was some truth in your words as vulnerability struck you. Your leg then lowered as you regained a slight sense of reality, realizing that you were forcing Hyunjae into being your selfish source of relief. You hated Hyunjae, sure, but you knew this was the last thing he deserved—to use him when he’d been nothing but accommodating to you.

And your sick and twisted plan was that after this encounter, you’d leave him to rot.

Hyunjae didn’t deserve that at all.

But Hyunjae was already too far gone, too intoxicated, to even consider the repercussions of how he’d end up after this. The loss of contact with his crotch was what had him picking you up from his car, the tips of his fingers digging into your thighs, as he led you to the backseat.

Your eyes widened, your senses fully back, but you made him like this, and you were going to pay for it. Although scared for about what’s to come, the anticipation had you drooling, your lips pressing fierce kisses onto his skin while he opened the door with you in his arms.

He laid you down gently and crawled over you, keeping you trapped between his arms.

“This is what you wanted, right? For me to tear you apart until you can run back to Jiwoong and justify how poorly he treats you?”

Your brows bunched up at his words, your legs getting antsy being under him. There was no answering him, not when Hyunjae already knew how you were going to respond.

He brought one of his hands into your shorts and made the aggravating decision to slide his fingers over your underwear, depriving you of contact with his fingers.

Yet even with your underwear being a divider, he found your clit with ease and immediately started rubbing circles into the bud, making you buck your hips with a whine. The friction of the cloth was something you were unfamiliar with, and lord did it mess with you.

“You want me to treat you how he sees you? Worthless and undeserving of respect?” He flicked your clit and kissed your jaw. “If that’s what you want, that’s exactly what my princess is going to get.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, using your hands to push onto his shoulders and force him down. The drive to ride his tongue was strong, and if he kept teasing you, you would have lost it.

“I know you inside and out, Y/N. I know you better than him, and this is how you treat me.” He sucked in a cheek but ultimately decided to comply with what you wanted. He pulled off your shorts yet left your underwear on, and his brows raised. He wasn’t sure how his fingers had missed the texture of lace, but what you were wearing was certainly lingerie.

You looked down to see why he stopped, and when you realized why he froze, heat rose to your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel pretty,” you whispered, shutting your eyes after turning your head. It was embarrassing, now that you thought about it, but Hyunjae’s heart soared, and he wanted nothing more than for you to know how ethereal you looked.

But he shoved the feeling away, allowing his frustrations to get the better half of him.

When he pulled off your underwear, he cooed at how your essence oozed onto the material and raised the undergarment into the air, waiting for you to look.

“Did I do this?”

His mocking tone kept you from looking, but your curiosity got the best of you. You were met with the sight of a large wet, dark patch on your underwear, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with wide eyes. If you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, or if there ever had been a time when you craved someone this badly.

He tossed it to the side and his hands massaged your thighs, keeping them spread open so he got a proper view of your core on display for him. The sight truly stunned him, reminding him that this was you he fantasized about and replicated with other girls—no one else.

“Do you normally take this long?” you rasped, tossing your head back against the seat, and Hyunjae rolled his eyes.

“I do you a favor, and this is how you treat me.”

“A favor is a stretch—”

Hyunjae plunged two fingers into your mouth, having them press firmly down against your tongue. He latched onto your jaw and pulled your head forward and up towards him, having your eyes meet his.

“Remind me, Y/N, who was begging for this?”

He dropped your head back down against the seat before you could even respond and used whatever saliva accumulated in your mouth as temporary lube, figuring that your slick would help him with stretching you out. You grunted at the impact, feeling helpless, as Hyunjae finally inserted his fingers inside of you.

Hyunjae’s fingers were enough to have your eyes rolling, but it was the ring that he wore that stimulated you the most. You weren’t aware that he was even wearing one, yet the cold band against your raging wet heat made you whimper and desperately grasp for his hair.

“Jaehyun, please,” you begged.

He chuckled and kept his movements slow, forcing you to fuck yourself onto his fingers weakly. When you did, he was in awe at how stunning you looked, how you seemed to be in your own world, and how you were enjoying him. By curling his fingers, a moan was pulled from your throat, making your eyes open as you looked at him. You continued to pool around his fingers, your voice weakly begging for so much more than his fingers and the cold air that brushed against your skin.

Never had you felt more vulnerable, but Hyunjae never once made you feel like you were doing something wrong, making you cling desperately to him. You forced his face down into your crotch and jerked at the feeling of his nose brushing up against your clit.

“Shameless, aren’t you?” he commented, laughing lowly, but you were too out of it to care.

“Shut the-...F-fuck, oh my god.”

Your whines had gotten more incessant the more useless he became, his fingers now completely stilled inside of you as he watched you roll your hips with a cheeky grin. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible, knowing fully well that he could last all night.

When he took out his fingers, you were yanked out of your bliss and nearly begged for him to put them back in, but before you could get a word out, he had replaced his digits with his tongue. Your slick was dripping onto his lips, and as he dragged his wet muscle up and down your folds, he made sure to collect a small puddle of you onto his tongue to eventually swallow, wanting to savor you.

“Oh-...Oh my god, Jae—” Your orgasm was approaching, unsure of how it was here so soon, but you recognized the signs from the coil in your chest tightening to losing every sensation to the man beneath you. You rocked your hips continuously onto his tongue, and his thumb attached to your clit, making you see stars with how rapid his movements were.

He pulled his face back and forced his fingers back into you, and the final curl was what made you reach your peak, your hips in the air as you cried out his name.

As you came down from your high, you caught a glance of the way Hyunjae was looking at you; to him, you were otherworldly, and it was a sight he’d never forget. He wondered if Jiwoong ever saw you like this, if he ever made you feel this way, and suddenly his admiration had soured and contoured to something of darkness, rid of any empathy as he now looked at you with some form of disgust.

“All this for me, and you still have the fucking audacity to choose him.”

The mention of Jiwoong had your eyes wide open, tears reappearing at the mention and while being in your most vulnerable state. Your legs shook from the aftermath, feeling too weak to continue, yet Hyunjae seemed to have other plans.

Instead of shoving his fingers back into either of your mouths, he hovered over you and made sure you saw the way he dragged his fingers around your abdomen, drawing aimlessly over your skin with your essence before dragging a hand up to your breasts, massaging one of them as his other hand rested by your waist.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you buy this for him and never got to use it? That’s why you’re wearing it now with me? Am I your sloppy seconds?”

There was a slight growl under his tone, and while you shook your head subconsciously, he worked to remove your shirt, wanting a better look at your bra, before being met with a necklace you had been hiding; one with Jiwoong’s name.

And Hyunjae took no time breaking it from your neck.

Your jaw dropped, and you snapped out of your daze by sitting straight up, yet as you were about to yell at him for breaking your necklace, he shoved three fingers back into your pussy, shutting you up by having you moan at the intrusion.

“It looked cheap, anyway,” he muttered, forcing his mouth against yours momentarily to nip on your lower lip, tugging on it so your focus remained on him.

“That was—he’s mine,” you forced out, gasping at every thrust he made with his fingers, your sweet spot being abused as your hands latched onto his shoulders. You made sure your nails dug into his skin, wanting it to hurt, before pulling onto the mesh, wishing for it to tear.

“He’s not yours, princess. Tell me, how can you say that when his dick has been up other girls?” With his free hand, he grabbed your face and made sure you were staring straight at him before shoving it to the side.

“You need to fucking wake up and realize that you can dream all you want about how he’d react if he saw you hopping on my dick, but guess what? He wouldn’t care.” Hyunjae pulled out his fingers and left you alone in the backseat.

You sat there, a wreck and vulnerable, as you tried to catch your breath. You lay back on your forearms, curious eyes following his every movement.

“There’s a reason he hasn’t left you yet,” Hyunjae explained, opening the front door to his car to grab a condom and his phone. He tucked both into his back pocket before returning to you, bringing your lips to his before continuing to talk within the kiss.

“He’s stringing you along so you can boost his ego. He knows you will always be there for him, and you allow him to use you like that?”

You wrapped your fingers around Hyunjae’s neck, squeezing it before pushing it away to keep your distance, your frustration starting to grow.

“I’m beginning to think you’re all bark and no bite, Jaehyun,” you muttered, and with whatever strength you had left, you pushed him against the seat and got into his lap. Without hesitation, you started rocking your hips over his clothed dick, hoping your slick would seep in so he could feel you.

He hissed but allowed you to do as you pleased, his grip tight on your hips.

“I-...I think…if you asked me, you’re the one who’s projecting. I’m the one in a relationship, and you’re just a side piece.”

The speed of your hips increased, and Hyunjae felt ecstasy on the tip of his tongue, the confinements of his pants physically paining him the more you continued.

“You’re jealous, Jae. Just admit it.”

You pulled at his hair, loving the absolute control you had over him at that moment, but in one languid motion, Hyunjae managed to push you back down, this time with your stomach against the seats. You could feel your bodily fluids sticking to the nylon, and with how hard Hyunjae was pressing down into you, you were barely given a chance to move.

With one hand on your lower back, he kept you still as he took out both his phone and condom, making sure to place both on top of your bare skin.

“What’s there to be jealous of when you’re here under me? You want to be fucked stupid? Fine. Don’t fucking complain when you want me to be the villain.” You lurched at his words, refusing to let him win, but you were completely unable to do much damage as Hyunjae kicked off his pants and boxers while still keeping his weight on you.

He then picked up his phone and pulled up the camera, making sure to take a photo of you in his car before clicking record and tossing the phone onto the ground, hoping it was close enough to pick up on your sweet noises.

“Make sure to be loud for me, yeah? I’m sure Jiwoong would love it if I sent that video to him.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you bit back, your hand reaching out in an attempt to grab the device, but Hyunjae was quicker to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“I wouldn’t because I know how to appreciate what’s mine.” Hyunjae released his hold on you to roll on the condom, giving you the opportunity to move and take his phone as you pleased. To your dismay, there was no more effort left within you, only an ache to feel Hyunjae inside you.

“He appreciates me,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself otherwise as you waited.

“Does he record you? Jerk off to your moans every night? Because I would, Y/N, just for you.” His voice was now by your ear, and when you turned your head to look at him, he pulled you into another hungry kiss, his dick now grazing against your hole.

“You’re fucking insane,” you bit back into the kiss, and he grinned against your lips, guiding his dick into you as he spoke.

“Psychotic, just for my princess.”

Venom laced his voice, dripping menacingly, and the insertion of his tip had you grasping for something in front of you, anything, and it was only then that you were able to process how thick his cock was.

“Can you take it?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before. When you gave him a curt nod, he continued pushing in further. Maybe lube should’ve been an option, but you were so wet for him that it didn’t matter, knowing that the stretch probably would have hurt regardless.

“Fuck, fuck—he really doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Hyunjae gasped, his head resting against the back of yours. It was better than anything he’d dreamed of, better than any girl he imagined, because it was you, and your body was made for him.

“When was the last time he fucked you?” He was fully inside of you now, and when you didn’t answer, he decided to take it as a sign to move. With a firm grip on your waist, he pulled out just to slam back in, making you yell as you clawed at the seat, wishing there was something to bite on as you endured the pain that was quick to morph into pleasure.

Every glide pushed you further into the car, your forearms occasionally hitting the door, as his hips moved vigorously, working up to a pace that had you moaning without pause. Tears were flowing down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure of being manhandled—of being Hyunjae’s rag doll when he was meant to be yours, and your body seized up, being worked up to your orgasm once more with how precise each thrust seemed to be.

He adjusted to raise one of your legs to his hip, giving him a new angle to pound into you as he worships you with his dick, and you shook out of pleasure, whining as you saw white and reached your second orgasm for the night. You pulsated around his cock, strangled moans ripping from your throat as tears mixed with your drool by your chin.

And Hyunjae showed no signs of stopping.

He made sure to press your face down against the seats, wanting every liquid to fall and stain his car, giving him something to remember you by.

Oh, and there was the recording too.

While kneeling inside of the cramped car, he slowed his movements and inclined his torso towards you. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you up, locking you inside his elbow as he forced you to look into your reflection in the car window.

“Look at you, the school’s favorite slut. What happens if the recording drops? The whole school would know you’re mine, wouldn’t they?” He pressed his chest against your back, the mesh rubbing against your skin as his lips remained near your ear, forcing you to listen to every word.

You limped against him, your flames completely burnt out, and your fingers tugged onto the mesh around his arm, successfully ripping it after some time, but Hyunjae seemed unphased. In fact, it turned him on even more knowing that he had you locked in, that you were his.

“Look at your pretty cunt taking me in so well. It was so wet for me, wasn’t it? It still is. And guess what? You’re in my car. You belong to me, and my good girl is only now just finding out about it, isn’t she?”

“I-I’m…I’m not-...not yours,” you retaliated, creating red angry marks into his skin with your nails as you endured being used, stifling your moans as you looked at how wrecked you were, how bare you seemed to be compared to Hyunjae. You were much more of a mess, from your hair to the bruises on your neck. Your pussy kept tightening up around his dick, convulsing occasionally with every hit toward your g-spot, and you held onto Hyunjae each time.

Your head drooped down, thinking about how your heart ached for Jiwoong, yet the rest of your body was meant for Hyunjae.

“Whose fucking dick is inside of you right now?” He scoffed and pulled on your hair, forcing your head back up so he could directly speak into your ear. “Wake up, Y/N,” he demanded. “You’re mine.”

He dropped you back onto the seat like you were nothing, leaving you completely helpless, your throat void of any words as your eyes closed and met the back of your skull, too fucked out to communicate. You tried reaching for the door handle, just something to hold onto, yet you couldn’t.

“You tell me I’m pitiful, that I’m basically delusional when you’re going to be the reason my car will smell like sex for weeks.”

Your face was forced back into the puddle of liquid you created earlier, being shifted back and forth against the seat as if you were made for his dick and not vice versa.

“It’s crazy how pathetic you are, how willing you are to break yourself down in front of everyone just to have him. That-...fuck…that you’re so convinced he wants you and you two are soulmates.” He dragged his fingers through your hair and grabbed your roots. “You called me, you wanted me, and I have you right now, moaning my name, and you have nothing.”

Something about his words kept bringing out your orgasms, each thrust adding to the pleasure immensely. You didn’t know how much you could handle—afraid you may pass out from how much he was using you, from his tight grip around you to his dick hitting inside of you mercilessly.

Hyunjae whispering ‘I won, Y/N’ was what had you losing it, your high this time ending up stronger than the rest. You were fully crying now, and yet he continued as if you were nothing.

He peppered your shoulder with kisses and had the slight decency to slow his pace, but he also took note of your sobs.

“Don’t tell me you still want him,” he began rambling, his lips still on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me after this that your heart still belongs to him, because if that were the case, I’d make you call him right now. Say you wish it was him instead of me, and that he’s the love of your life while you’re stuffed with my dick. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You could no longer think, and what you hated most was how reactive your body was—how you were just able to come for the third time, but Hyunjae’s dick solely being inside you snapped some other straw you weren’t aware you had, finding that your last high was incoming.

Hyunjae had picked up the pace by then, and by knowing your body incredibly well, he reached down to your sensitive clit to relieve you. You both knew your fourth was arriving, and you held on tight to his arm.

“J-Jaehy- hyun, I’m—”

“Mine.”

You cried out, your entire body shaking, and Hyunjae pulled out, immediately releasing onto your back with a guttural moan after yanking off the condom. He was forced to catch his breath, watching you float in and out of consciousness.

Your eyes were closed, struggling to breathe through your sobs, and Hyunjae consoled you with a kiss on the back of your shoulder.

“You’re mine, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaving to grab paper towels from his trunk. You were heaving, still shaking, and left alone as a mess in his backseat, yet with him gone, you felt even more useless, wanting him back by your side instantly. You weakly cried out for him, your nails dragging against the seat in hopes of being in his arms soon, and maybe he was right.

Maybe you were his.

OUR INFERNO [ M.LIST | TWO ]

NAVIGATION — THE BOYZ

221 notes · View notes

hengqarae · 1 year

Text

reckless driver

PAIRING ❄ kim mingyu x afab!reader WORD COUNT ❄ 10k words GENRE ❄ street racer au, angst, romance, smut (minors dni), the teeniest tiniest smidge of humor WARNINGS ❄ swearing, illegal activity (drag/street racing), making out, extreme pining, whirlwind romance, smut (fingering, protected sex), not proofread, brief hospital scene

you hate racing and you don't date racers. kim mingyu loves racing, and he finds out that he loves you, too, from the moment that he first lays eyes on you.

PLAYLIST ❄ reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine (ft. ben kessler) / yards / gardens by kate bollinger / btbt by b.i. & souljia boy tell 'em (ft. devita) / notice me by sza / nothing but the love by wrabel / with my eyes closed by cults / anyone by seventeen / angel eyes by abba FROM THE AUTHOR ❄ mingyu, crawling up my bias list because of my own fic that i wrote about him... i am a lizzy stan before i am a human, and the first time that i heard reckless driving, i knew that she was singing about mingyu (or, at least, the mingyu that i would one day write about). i hope that you enjoy reading this, and i hope that you are having a wonderful new year <3

You didn’t know what you were getting into when you visited the track that very first time.

To your credit, you did not visit with the intention of falling in love. Your roommate, Lee Chan, had begged and pleaded for you to accompany him, to indulge, even just once, in this newfound passion of his. He had started racing to pay his bills, but quickly figured out that he enjoyed it. The rush of adrenaline made him feel alive, he’d tell you. You would always follow that up by telling him that he was chasing a high that could kill him one day.

You didn’t support his racing. You hated saying goodbye to him when he left for races. You always found yourself anxiously awaiting news, tossing and turning whenever you tried to sleep, forced to occupy yourself with something to distract you while you waited for a call, a text, anything to assure you that he had finished the race safely and that he would be coming home at the end of the night. The possibility of getting arrested didn’t really scare either of you; you were mostly afraid that you would lose your best friend, and because of your own stubbornness, you weren’t going to be present if, and when, that happened. That’s the only reason that you started attending races with him. You’ve made sure that you’re abundantly clear about that, too.

“It’s s'posed to be a really good race tonight!” Chan was practically bouncing in his seat. You hummed quietly in response, eyes trained on his speedometer. He was prone to driving fast when he was excited, and you were nervous enough at the prospect of him racing at all – your nerves didn’t need to be exacerbated by speeding down the interstate en route to the track. “All of the circuits are having their championships tonight, so if I place, I’ll get to move up to C! All the S racers will be there, too. Choi Seungcheol, Joshua Hong, Kim Mingyu – they're, like, gods in the downtown racing circuit.”

“And which one do I have to thank for bringing you into racing?”

Chan groans quietly, hands shifting their positions on the steering wheel. “Don’t talk to anyone. Even though I love and adore you, and your opinions are very important to me... I don’t know if your anti-racing agenda will be met very favorably tonight.”

“What? I said I was going to thank them.”

“Right.” Chan forces a smile. “Please do not talk to anyone tonight.”

You huff quietly in response, shifting in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. You hope that your phone has enough battery to get you through the night. You were definitely not going to watch Chan race, and you doubted that you were going to meet anyone at the track that could offer titillating conversation; that is, you weren’t interested in talking about racing or cars, and it was unlikely that you’d find anyone that could offer much beyond that. You’d likely spend your time in Chan’s car, scrolling through Tik Tok while you waited for him or until your battery died and you were forced to be alone with your own thoughts.

At least, that had been your intention. When you and Chan arrive at the track, you’re quickly reminded of that saying about best laid plans.

“Mingyu! What’s up, man?” Chan barely bothers to turn off his ignition before he’s bounding out of his car, greeting another man. One look tells you that this guy – Kim Mingyu, you’re assuming, as Chan had already mentioned him – is a racer, too, and you’re spurred out of the car to give him a piece of your mind. Chan only realizes that you’ve come up behind him once Mingyu’s gaze travels to you, and he’s quick to try and jump on offense. “M-Mingyu, this is my roommate. They... don’t race.”

“They don’t like racing, either.” You offer, crossing your arms again, leaning against the hood of Chan’s car. You’re uncomfortable with the way that Mingyu is sizing you up, and you don’t miss the smug countenance plastered on his, admittedly handsome, face. Still, you find it difficult to peel your eyes away from his. He’s... hot. You had made it easier to villainize the sport by picturing all other racers to be stout, middle-aged men with receding hairlines. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Mingyu doesn’t fit that picture.

“Roommates. Is that code for something, or is this actually platonic?” Mingyu keeps his eyes locked with you as he asks, even though you get the sense that his question is directed at Chan. You feel warm under his gaze, unsure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable, or if it’s because you’re finding yourself more and more attracted to Mingyu as you stare at him. Every few seconds, you have to remind yourself that he’s another stupid racer, and for that reason alone, it’s out of the question.

“N-No, we’re just friends. Nothing like that. Why do you— oh, shit, hold on. Hoshi!” Chan pulls away before he can finish his own question, chasing after another man, leaving you and Mingyu still locked in on each other. His smirk seems to grow even wider, and you shift your weight. You wish Chan had stayed and finished his question. You, too, would like to know why Mingyu had asked.

As nice as he is to look at, though, if you don’t speak to anyone else tonight, you’ll at least have told Kim Mingyu how you feel about his and Chan’s stupid racing. You won’t back down, even under the warmth that’s blooming across your skin. “Are you the one that brought Chan into this shit?”

“Dirty words comin’ from such a pretty mouth.”

“A-Answer the question.”

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his jackets, Mingyu offers a shrug. “He was already into it when I met him. It was probably...” He looks around after he trails off before focusing back on you. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He only mimics your expression, raising his own eyebrows back at you.

“Well? Who was it? Is he here?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

You scoff. “I-I’m not going to hurt them. I just want to yell at them.”

“Yeah, that’s why.” You knit your eyebrows together and Mingyu’s smirk grows even wider, turning into a full grin now. “I’d rather you yell at me instead. You seem like you’d be hot when you’re mad.”

You’re at a loss. It’s been a while, if ever, since you’ve been flirted with so shamelessly, and as badly as you want to stay mad about your current situation – your best friend refusing to quit racing despite your constant protests and you, inevitably, getting dragged to the track with him – you're finding it hard to keep it together when Mingyu is looking at you like he wants to devour you. “I don’t fuck with racers.”

“I think I could persuade you.”

“I don’t want to be persuaded.”

“I like a challenge.” Mingyu bends at the waist, meeting you at eye level from where you’re leaning on Chan’s car. You scrunch your nose when you catch a whiff of his cologne, telling yourself that no, you do not like how he smells. “God, you’re so pretty.”

“Stop flirting with me.” You snap.

There’s that smirk again. “Okay, angel.”

You groan, rolling your eyes and throwing your head back. When you lift your head back, Mingyu seems to have gotten closer. If you reach out, you could grab the collar of his jacket and pull him even closer. Your fingertips tingle at the prospect, but you refrain. Instead, you take the opportunity to study his face up close, his smooth, tanned skin and his deep brown eyes and his plump lips. You must have been looking for a while, because Mingyu feels compelled to finally break you out of your trace.

“You can look and touch, y’know.”

“Pass.” You scowl, snapping out of it and leaning back, attempting to create some distance between the two of you. “Don’t you need to warm up or something?”

“I don’t race for another few hours.”

You set your jaw. What is this guy doing? Why is he wasting his time on you? You’re sure that, somewhere else within the track, he could find plenty of other people willing to swoon over him, ready to fall to their knees and offer him some pre-race stress relief. You weren’t one of those people. You hate racing. You hate that Chan fell into it, and you hate how you become too worried to function sometimes. You had met him in college, and for him to forsake the degree that he earned for the quick, easy money that he was getting now made your emotions flare. His business degree wasn’t going to kill him. Racing, eventually, will.

The scent of Mingyu’s cologne is making you feel dizzy, enveloped in the scent of him, and under other circumstances, you’d already have him pressed against you. This was one of Chan’s races, though. You get enough of this shit at home from him; you aren’t going to bring any pieces back with you, too, even though you can imagine it would feel really good to touch Mingyu, and to have him touch you.

Mingyu is perfectly content in standing and looking at you. He thinks you’re the second most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, only behind his mother, and if today is the only day he’ll ever be able to see you, he wants to burn the image of you onto the back of his eyelids.

You finally reach out a hand, pressing your palm against his chest and pushing him back. Nevermind how firm his chest is and how strongly you’re urged to grip his black t-shirt and pull him forward instead of pushing him back. He smiles even as you widen the gap between the two of you. “Is this what you want? You want me to go?”

You open your mouth to respond to him, to tell him that yes, he needs to leave, but the words won’t come out. Maybe you don’t want him to go. Not yet, anyway. Maybe you like the way that you feel when he’s looking at you, feverish, skin prickling with a sense of urgency that doesn’t make sense to you. Your insides twist uncomfortably when you look into his eyes, and yet, you don’t want to look away.

Fuck, you wish that he didn’t race.

“Just tell me to go away and I will, angel.”

You can’t. You don’t want to. There’s some kind of magnetic pole within Mingyu’s body, compelling you toward him even though you wish that you could get away. You’re stuck in his orbit, and it’s a little scary.

“You should stop racing.” You respond, finally remembering yourself. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Duly noted. How ‘bout a kiss, just in case I do get myself killed tonight?”

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu laughs, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back at the forehead. “I’ll definitely be dreamin’ about you.”

Your body moves faster than your brain, finally giving into the desire to have him closer. Instead of pulling him toward you, you’re stepping forward. You like the feeling of having your body pressed against his, but more than that, you like the feeling of your lips pressed against Mingyu’s. He smiles that same insufferable, self-satisfied grin against your lips, but even that doesn’t make you pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, fingers twirling in his hair.

He puts his hands, big and warm, on your hips, holding you against him as you sink your teeth into his bottom lip. Mingyu groans in response and you take the opportunity to swipe your tongue against his top row of teeth. His grip becomes impossibly tighter, and he slides his tongue fully into your mouth, alternating between licking the inside of your mouth and massaging your tongue with his. Only when your lungs feel tight and burn from the lack of oxygen do you finally detach yourself from him, chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. Mingyu flutters his eyes open, and the look in his eyes makes butterflies erupt in your chest.

You untangle yourself from him immediately, running your hands through your own hair this time. “I--we—that--”

“Was that you givin’ me material for my dreams?”

“W-We shouldn’t have done that.”

“We didn’t do anything. You kissed me.”

“I-I know.” You’re still breathing heavily, your mind jumbled with thoughts of how you kissed Mingyu, how you should not have kissed Mingyu, and how much you liked kissing Mingyu. “That w-was a mistake. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Mingyu juts out his bottom lip, red and puffy and tantalizing enough that you almost disregard your hesitation and dive in again. “You’re breakin’ up with me already? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Stop making jokes!” You snap at him. “I-It isn’t funny! That—we--”

“All we did was kiss. There will be plenty of opportunities to do it again.” You’re grasping at straws, trying to navigate through the fog that’s collected in your brain for a retort, when Mingyu’s phone goes off. He pulls it out of his pocket and, for the first time, you see him without a smile. “Call me, okay? Promise?”

He backs away without waiting for a response, holding out his pinky finger toward you. You watch him retreat with a scowl on your face that only deepens once he blows a kiss at you, turning his back to you and taking off in a jog toward the racetrack. Once he’s been out of sight for long enough to ensure that he’s actually gone, you groan loudly, covering your hands with your face. Your face is hot, and your hands are clammy, and you keep thinking about how good it felt to kiss Mingyu, soft lips slotting between and sliding against yours, his fingers leaving your skin feeling scorched wherever they touched.

You don’t know why you kissed him. You had been doing so well, holding yourself back and exhibiting some enviable self-restraint. Still, something in you had snapped, and you don’t know how you’ll be able to recover. On the bright side, you might never see Mingyu again. On the other hand, though, he’d shown a determination that makes you doubt he would let you go so easily. You can only hope that he’s just some playboy; that you’re the latest target of his conquest, that he’ll find somebody else and forget all about you.

He told you that he liked a challenge, and unfortunately, you like being chased.

+ + +

Mingyu can’t stop thinking about you. He knew that this was going to be a problem when he first laid eyes on you and, lo and behold, he was lying in bed for the fourth night in a row, staring up into the dark, consumed with thoughts of you.

He doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. He doesn’t know if he’ll see you again. What he does know is that he’s seriously lovesick, and you’re the only thing that’ll be able to cure him. This is not the type of person that Kim Mingyu is, though. Usually, he’s suave and charming, and he gets exactly what he wants... and then some. He’s so good at flirting because he does it so often, and yet, he wasn’t able to charm you completely. You’d kissed him – yes, you kissed him – and then, after his race, disappeared without another word.

He is not a bad kisser. That’s a fact. And, yet, when you had kissed him, you had reacted like you’d committed some kind of grave sin. Mingyu has been with people that think he’s bad news, but that’s never served as an actual obstacle before. This is uncharted territory. He wants you. He wanted you before he even spoke to you; he wanted you as soon as he got his first glimpse of you.

Your actions say that you want him, too, but your words have contradicted that, and Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s supposed to trust. He’s on the hook either way.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he reaches for his phone on his nightstand. He doesn’t even know if this will work, but he’s got to try something. His sanity, and sleep cycle, depends on this.

“Hey Siri, call Lee Chan.”

The call gets picked up on the second ring, and Mingyu’s heart rate picks up, too. He releases a breath that he doesn’t even realize he’s been holding when he identifies the voice on the other end of the line. “Chan isn’t here right now. What do you want?”

“I was calling to ask for you, actually, angel.” Mingyu sits up in bed, grinning into the phone.

The silence on the other end of the line drives up his heart rate ever more, but when he hears shuffling, he’s able to relax a little. You haven’t hung up. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, Mingyu?”

“Say my name again.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“N-No!” His face burns at how eager he must sound, but he doesn’t care to play it cool. Maybe with somebody else, but not with you. He has too much to lose to try and impress you. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to ask you to remove the spell you put on me.”

His words cause your stomach to somersault. Truthfully, you’ve had a hard time since meeting, and kissing, Mingyu, too. You know that chalking it up to love at first sight would only exacerbate things. You don’t think it’s merely lust, though, either – you've always been able to restrain yourself. You’re careful with your feelings and your emotions, and there’s something there between you and Mingyu. You don’t know what, exactly, but you know that it can’t be there. You have enough on your plate, constantly worrying about Chan. You can’t add someone else, someone that does the exact same stupid stuff, into the mix. You need this to stop, for his sake and for yours.

“I-It’s late and you’re probably just horny. Call someone else.”

“What?” Mingyu’s incredulousness comes through clearly over the phone, and you nearly cringe at how harsh your words were. Still, you can’t indulge this. You shouldn’t.

You want to.

“N-No, I... I’m sorry.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair, frustrated. “Mingyu, I don’t fuck with racers. I told you that.”

“Your roommate races.”

“Yeah, and I hate that he does that, okay? I worry myself sick over him when he’s off racing. The only thing that I can be thankful about is that he does drag and not streets. But you do streets, too, don’t you?” Mingyu doesn’t respond, and you scoff quietly. “Yeah, I already know that you do. I-I can’t get involved with someone that risks their life all the time for money.”

‘It’d be different if I were a cop, though, right? Or a firefighter? That’d make me a hero, right? This--” You hear him pause to take a breath. “I'm in love with you, okay? Completely and utterly smitten with you, to the point that it’s takin’ over my life.” Your breath hitches quietly at his confession, but Mingyu makes no indication that he heard you. “This isn’t my career. We can’t all tolerate cushy bureaucracy jobs. This is what I do now, for money, so that I can stop racin’ one day and retire, then and there. I want to enjoy my life. It’ll be more enjoyable if you’re in it. There is nothing else that I can say except for I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“W-We just met, Mingyu. It hasn’t even been a week.”

“I like to go fast.”

You don’t know what else you can say. You can’t proclaim that you love him, not right now, but you’re sure that in a few weeks’ time, that’s where you’d be, too. Still, you know better. Mingyu is here today, but he could be gone the very next time that he has a race. That terrifies you.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Mingyu’s at the end of his short rope. He had called in the first place so that he could hear your voice, thinking that maybe it could help him get to sleep. Now, though, he wishes he hadn’t called. He should’ve just suffered through his insomnia and continued suffering through it. It was better than the rejection he was facing. “Nevermind. Just forget it.”

“Mingyu--”

“No, angel, I—you kiss me, and then you push me away. You tell me to fuck off, then you tell me that under different circumstances, you’d be interested. I’ve shown you all of my cards, and you’re not interested in anteing up, so just forget it, okay?”

You end the call before Mingyu can hear you cry. It’s all too fast, and you’re overwhelmed. You want him, but there’s one part of him that you just can’t accept. You aren’t reckless. You like to think things through, and you don’t do things on a whim. Kissing Mingyu had catalyzed a panic within you that you had lost control, and if you lose control once, you’re bound to do it again. It feels like you’re being backed into a corner with two options to get out: take Mingyu completely as he is or swallow your obvious feelings and leave him as he is. You clutch Chan’s phone tightly against your chest as you sob quietly, hot tears rolling down your cheeks even despite your attempts to stifle them.

Mingyu, similarly, can’t believe what just happened. He’s too reckless. He bared himself to you too early, and the consequences that he’ll reap will not be good ones. He can’t help how he feels about you, and nobody feels more intensely than Kim Mingyu. He knows that he fucked up. He knows that he can’t come back from this, and he needs to cut his losses and find a way to get rid of his feelings for you. He doesn’t know how he’ll accomplish it, but if he never sees you again, that’ll probably be the fastest way he’ll be able to heal. He’s never cared for someone so deeply before he met you. He’s never known so immediately that he’s been in love. You’re it for him, and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s already lost you.

+ + +

You shouldn’t have come. You knew that before you got into Chan's car, but now, with Mingyu’s gaze practically burning a hole into the side of your head, it’s been made abundantly clear.

“Why is he looking at you like that?” Chan whispers while you shift your weight. “You never told me what happened between the two of you.”

“I don’t want to get into it.” You mutter, willing yourself to look forward and not over at Mingyu, watching you from a distance like a predator observing its prey. It’s been weeks since your phone conversation. You were no less convinced that you were going to be able to forget about him, and a small part of you had hoped that you would come tonight and see somebody else draped around his arm, shocking you back into a state of rationality.

That isn’t the case though, obviously, and you had to beg Chan to keep to you so that you aren’t vulnerable. You don’t know what you should expect from Mingyu. He’s reckless and volatile, and the way that you feel when you’re around him is... scary. As brief as your first interaction had been, you left with the sense that, if enough time had passed with you in his proximity, he would have replaced the necessity of air with himself; he would’ve become your air, and you would’ve suffocated without him.

There’s something fantastic about the way that Mingyu has made you feel like you’re breathing and drowning at the same time, with just one little kiss and a simple love confession.

“He's looking at you like you murdered his dog. Now he’s-- okay, now he’s looking at his phone... he’s looking at you again.”

“I don’t need the play by play, Chan, thanks.”

“Tell me what happened!”

You shake your head. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, then I’m leaving.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to grab Chan, to pull him back and to keep him as your wall against Mingyu, but he’s out of reach before you’re able to react. In a matter of seconds, Mingyu has crossed the way and is standing in front of you, arms crossed tightly over his chest. You stare at him, horrified.

He just scoffs. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I-I’m not here--”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re not here for me.” His hostility takes you aback, even though you know it’s deserved. You can tell from body language alone that Mingyu is still hurting. His words and tone of voice merely confirm that for you. “I-I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over you when you continue to show up to my races.”

“It’s been weeks already, Mingyu.”

“Yeah? And has the passage of time made you feel any better?” You don’t respond, turning away so that he can’t notice the tears brimming at your waterline. You’re biting your cheek to keep them from spilling. Mingyu knows better, though, and softens. Just a little. “I told you that I loved you, and I still do. I’m willin’ to do anything for you – anything except quit.”

That’s the only thing that you need from him, though. “We barely know each other. You don’t love me.”

“You don't know how I feel. You haven’t bothered to ask.”

“B-Because you tell me even if I don’t ask! You don’t know me well enough to say that you love me.”

“I can say whatever I damn well please.” He scoffs, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “There is somethin’ between us, you can’t deny that, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to foster this spark that we have. That’s love, isn’t it?”

“That’s--” You cut yourself off, groaning in frustration. His words make your knees feel weak, but you’re not ready to let up the fight. “You’re too nonchalant about this for it to be love. It’s supposed to be something bigger. You can’t just look at someone for the first time and decide that they’re it for you!”

“I can, and I did.”

You shake your head, wiping away a stray tear with the heel of your hand. “I-I don’t love you.”

“You don’t, or you won’t?”

“You’re a danger to yourself! If you loved me, truly, then you wouldn’t put me through the risk of losing you every time you get behind the wheel.”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to shake his head. “That’s all I am, then, yeah? I’m just a stupid guy that drives fast for money, and that’s all I’ll ever be?” Even when you open your money to respond, he ignores you and continues talking. “You’re doin’ this on purpose. You don’t want to admit to yourself that I’m more than what you’ve chosen to see. You won’t even give me a chance to be anything else.”

The conversation is starting to make you dizzy. You press your middle finger to one of your temples, rubbing small circles against your skin. “It was just one kiss, Mingyu.”

“Then kiss me again and show me that I got worked up over somethin’ that I shouldn’t have.”

You can’t. You shouldn’t. You know exactly what needs to happen in order to prove to him that you aren’t the one, that he should back off and keep searching for the true love of his life, and you also know that you aren’t going to be able to fake it. You don’t feel your emotions as intensely as Mingyu does, but you’re never going to be able to escape this whirlwind if you kiss him now.

You kiss him anyway.

Your hands are trembling as you hold his face, pulling him in and pressing your lips against his. He lets you take the lead, slowly slotting his lips between yours only after you’ve initiated movement. Your actions are impossibly calculated as you try to exercise restraint, but, once again, you forget yourself. Your hands work their way into Mingyu’s hair – it's gotten longer since the last time that you did this – and you grip the strands tightly as you pull him closer. He, on the other hand, remembers his manners. He smiles against your lips before he pulls away, and the soft whimper that he hears from you nearly makes him dive right back in.

“You’re so full of shit.” He whispers, eyes still closed, his lips ghosting against yours. “You love me.”

“I-I don’t.” You respond, breathless.

“Yeah?” He presses his lips against yours again, pulling away when you try to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He’s taunting you, and you hate that you like it. You hate that he knows exactly what he needs to do to keep you wanting more. “Then we’re done here, I guess.”

“No, we’re not.” Whispering against his lips draws a shiver up your spine. “Don’t go.”

“You don’t love me, remember?”

“Come home with me.” Mingyu stills against you, swallowing thickly. He hopes that you can’t hear his heart thumping loudly against his ribcage. “Skip your race and fuck me instead.”

His chest tightens, as does his grip on your hip. “You’re---that’s not fair.”

“I’m in love with a guy that does everything that I stand against. Life isn’t fair.”

“R-Right.” Mingyu presses his forehead against yours, his eyes shut as he resumes his ministrations against your skin. He can’t believe how the tides have turned, but he’s not going to ruin it. Not again. Both of you are quiet as you even out your breathing, but finally, Mingyu cuts through the silence. “Counteroffer. I fuck you after my race when I’m ten grand richer.”

“Get a real job, and then I’ll be impressed by you making money.”

“Like a cop, right?” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss. “Or a firefighter?” Another kiss. “Aren’t men more attractive when they have money?”

You exhale deeply as you pull yourself away from Mingyu. “Look, I—we—there need to be rules if we’re going to... be something. T-Together.” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in anticipation, and you sigh again. “Sex is a reward that you get when you skip races.”

“That’s a punishment for both of us.”

You ignore him and move on. “I don’t want to know details after the fact. Let me know as soon as possible if you’re alive or not.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Okay, I promise I will let you know as soon as I can if I die.”

“That’s... all. For now.” You clasp your hands together, tilting your head as you look at him. “So? Are you skipping tonight.”

“Baby, it’s ten grand.” Mingyu whines, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his. Your heart skips a few beats while he laces your fingers with his. “I’ll skip the one I have tomorrow. Promise.”

“Maybe I won’t want to have sex with you tomorrow.” You lilt your words, looking to the side.

Mingyu sighs loudly, swinging your hands gently. “I’d be content to sit and stare at you, too.”

+ + +

As expected, Mingyu wins his race and the ten grand. As promised, he skipped his race on the following day and came to see you instead. That’s why you’re in his lap, and why his shirt is already off, and why you’re sure that he can feel how wet you are through your shorts. You opted to forego underwear in favor of easier access, and you made sure to encourage Chan to go out for dinner after his own race, too.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease.” Mingyu rasps, sliding a hand under your shirt. His hand travels against the expanse of your abdomen before cupping your breast, settling there to squeeze and knead your flesh as he continues sucking bruises against your collarbone. “Playin’ hard to get but wantin’ me just as bad.”

“D-Dirty words coming from a p-pretty mouth.” You gasp, paying homage to something he’d said to you the first time that you met.

Mingyu smiles against you, the feeling of his teeth grazing against the tender spots of your skin making you shiver. “It gets dirtier, angel, don’t worry.”

You roll your hips against his, eliciting a groan. That spurs you on to do it again, pausing to gyrate against his erection, whimpering quietly at its contact with your core. There are layers of clothes in the way, but you know they’ll be gone soon enough. For now, the sweat collecting on Mingyu’s forehead, the parting of his lips, and the grunts and groans spilling from them are enough to keep you occupied. He squeezes your breast in response to the friction, using his other hand to cup your neck and pull your face down for a kiss.

You sigh against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, languid movements that correspond well with the rhythm that you’re using to grind on his lap. He pulls away after only a few minutes, eyes following the trail of saliva connecting the two of you until it breaks, and then he looks at you. His pupils are blown out – probably just like yours – and your stomach flips at the wicked grin that blooms on his face.

“Can I fuck you with my fingers first?”

The words ignite a fire that quickly spreads across the expanse of your skin. You grip Mingyu’s shoulders and lift yourself off of him, hovering above his lap so that he can pull your shorts off. He groans when he sees that you aren’t wearing underwear, and his mouth waters at the prospect of tasting you. Today, he’ll go easy and prep you with his fingers. Next time, though, he wants his tongue buried in your folds until you’re begging him to stop.

“Such a tease.” He says again, laughing to himself. “Turn around.”

You do as he says, and he eases you against him with gentle hands on your shoulders. Your back is pressed against his chest, your heartbeat can be felt so strongly that someone could take your pulse by pressing just about another, and when Mingyu hooks his legs under yours to keep them wedged open, you know that you’re done for.

He drops his chin and lets it rest on your shoulder, watching as best as he can as he slides his index finger up and down against your entrance, collecting your arousal. “I can’t believe you tried to keep this pretty little pussy from me. It’s mine now, though, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes,” You stutter out, gasping once Mingyu inserts his finger. He’s only partially inside, only to the second knuckle, but his fingers are so much longer than yours, and every other time you’ve fingered yourself doesn’t compare to how good it feels to have him inside instead. “It’s yours.”

“Yeah, it is.” He coos, sliding his finger out and then back in. His rhythm is slow, and his movements are shallow, but as soon as he feels you relax, he’ll give you more. Normally impatient, Mingyu has all the time in the world to fuck you properly. He presses kisses against the side of your neck while he builds up a faster tempo, strands of hair falling over his eyes and tickling the underside of your jaw. You exhale quietly, and once he feels your shoulders drop, he inserts his finger completely on the next thrust.

You whimper against him, back arching, and he uses the opportunity to wrap an arm across you diagonally, cupping your other breast through your shirt. “Don’t run away from me. I want you to be all stretched out and ready for my cock. You want my cock today, don’t you?”

“Fuck.” You groan, tilting your head back to rest against Mingyu. He’s gradually picking up speed, and the way that you clench at his words only encourages him to do more; to say more, and to add another finger. So that’s what he does, slow as he brings in his middle finger, starting at just the second knuckle so that you can adjust to the feeling. “I want your c-cock.”

“I know you do.” He presses his cheek against the side of your head, his lips positioned right against your ear. “You’re gonna get my cock. You’re gonna take it, all of it, everything that I give you tonight.” He punctuates his words by sliding both of his fingers into you fully, and the curl of his fingers makes you cry out involuntarily. He grins to himself and goes again, reaching for that same spot inside of you, grinning even wider when you cry again. “There we go. That’s where my baby likes to get fucked, yeah? Wish my tongue could go that far.”

“Y-Your cock can reach.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, stilling his fingers inside of you to stroke your g-spot again and again. “That’s true. I’ll make you cum with my cock next. Sound good?” You’re trembling in his arms, your legs having tried to clamp shut several times. He falls into a rhythm of cramming his fingers inside, hooking them and nudging your g-spot with them, and sliding them back out, and he gets so focused on making you cum that he furrows his brow, lips parted in the concentration.

You’re panting loudly now, thrashing as best as you can in his hold, unable to run from the pleasure that’s edging closer and closer. “M-Mingyu--”

“Fuck, say my name again, baby.”

“K-Keep—fuck—M-Min--”

“You’re doin’ so good. My pretty baby, such an angel.”

It’s the praise that finally sends you toppling over the cliff; that, and his thumb kneading your clit, which you hadn’t even noticed until he stills his movements. You clench around Mingyu as you orgasm, and his ego grows three sizes at the ironclad grip that your pussy has on his fingers. He brings his free hand up to stroke the side of your face as you come, still pinning you against him with his forearm to keep you from slumping forward. “You don’t wanna let me go, huh? Want to stay like this forever?”

“N-No.” You sigh, the stars in your vision finally subsiding. Your chest heaves up and down as you work to catch your breath, leaning back against Mingyu and turning your head to place a kiss against his cheek. “You promised to fuck me properly. Unless you’re too tired...”

“Angel, if you’re implyin’ that I’m all speed and no stamina--”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m wondering why your dick is still in your pants and not inside of me.”

Mingyu stares at you, then blinks, and then smiles. It’s a real, genuine smile, not his signature smirk or crooked, self-satisfied grin. He tilts your chin up to place a proper kiss on your lips and then reaches behind him, blindly feeling the top of your nightstand until he finds the condom he’d brought. He eases you off his lap and fully rolls off the bed, offering you reprieve while he brings his cock out of his shorts. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he pumps himself, rolling on the condom with haste you haven’t seen from any of your previous sexual partners before.

“We’re gonna go slow, okay?” He asks, slotting himself between your legs. He’s careful as he maneuvers himself around your limbs, groaning to himself once you wrap your legs around him and cross your ankles. You’re so eager now, but just yesterday, you almost rejected him for the second time. “Th-- y-you’re not going slow, angel.”

“I thought you liked to go fast.” You draw out your words, lilting your voice. Mingyu ignores your comment, just this once, and grips you by one of your hips. He’s concentrated as he lines himself up at your entrance before letting go of his cock and swiping a finger against your folds again. You furrow your brows, sitting up as best as you can to look at him.

He has the finger in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. He only notices you staring at him once he pulls it out of his mouth. He grins, a little bashful, as he looks back down and grabs his dick again. “I forgot to taste you.”

You clench around nothing at his words, groaning softly, but when he finally presses the tip of his cock against your slit, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You do your best to lay still as he inches inside of you, stopping every time that he feels resistance against him, but the tip of his cock nudges against your g-spot when he finally bottoms out and your back arches. Your hands flail around, looking for something to hold, something to keep you anchored, but you just have to settle for gripping the sheets on either side of you. You crumble the fabric in your hands, eyes squeezed shut, letting yourself adjust the feeling of Mingyu inside of you.

Maybe today will be fine, but you can easily foresee having an insanely hot boyfriend with a big dick as being a problem in the future.

“Let me know when I can move, baby.”

“Can’t we just stay like this forever?” You sigh, lolling your head to the side and looking up at Mingyu. The sight makes your heart flutter; his hair is sweaty, pushed back at the forehead but with strands still obscuring parts of his vision; the different scratches, bruises, and bites that you’d given him while making out were finally starting to bloom red on his skin. He’s looking back at you, and the look in his eyes makes you think that he’d be content with that, too. “You can quit... y’know, your job... and just become my trophy husband. Keep the house clean and fuck me through my Zoom meetings.”

“Sounds like a dream. Did we really go this far just so you could cockwarm me, though?”

“No.” You laugh, reaching out for Mingyu. He meets you halfway, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You can move now.”

You don’t hear it clearly, but you swear that Mingyu whispers Thank God to himself before he slides his hands just above your ass, hoisting up your hips for the best angle. His initial pace is slow, painstakingly slow, but the string of moans that falls from your lips spurs him to speed up. At first, he sheaths himself completely inside of you before pulling almost completely out, leaving just the head of dick inside before thrusting back up into you. As he continues, though, he’s more urgent. He wants to minimize the amount of time he spends not inside of you, so his thrusts become shallower. He’s soon thrusting into you at breakneck speed, slowing every so often to make sure his angle is right and that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

“How we doin’, angel?”

“I want to ride you next time.”

“Fuck.” Mingyu groans, sliding a hand up to caress your calf. The room is quiet, save for the squeaking of your bedframe and the sound of Mingyu’s balls slapping against you with every thrust. Every so often, he thrusts perfectly, and you’re brought up from the bed again. Mingyu curses himself that he didn’t ask you to take your shirt off – this would all be even better if your tits were bouncing in his face. “A-Are you close? What do you need from me?”

You hold out your hand, and he grabs it. You’ll be able to show him better than tell him. You lead his hand down, pressing his thumb against your clit again. He immediately gets to work, rolling the nub between his thumb and index finger, and you hold onto his wrist as you gasp for air. His touch is cool against your feverish skin, and you tell yourself that you’re royally fucked just as Mingyu’s thrusts become staccato.

“I--I’m--”

“Inside, Mingyu, p-please.” You sigh, using your free hand to caress his bicep. “Cum inside of m-me.”

“A-Are you s-s--”

You draw him in closer to you, and the squeeze his body against yours, and the squeeze of your pussy around him, does exactly what it should. He’s loud as he cums, his body spasming as he shoots inside of you. You’re disappointed at the lack of warmth, warmth you would’ve felt if he hadn’t worn a condom, but there will be time for unprotected. For now, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself to orgasm while Mingyu rides out his own.

You’re afraid that you’ve lost it, but Mingyu recovers quickly enough to resume his ministrations against your clit. For good measure, he leans down and kisses you, and all of the sensations – his cock still inside of you, his fingers on your clit, his tongue shoved down your throat – are enough to bring you back up and back over the cliff. Your whimpers are drowned out by Mingyu’s grunts as you squeeze around him. He lowers himself onto you completely as you ride out your orgasm, trembling and spasming underneath him until you’re finally able to go still. He finds enough energy to lift his head and look at your face, laughing when he notices the tear that’d rolled down your cheek.

“Cute.” He reaches up and brushes it away with his finger, letting his arm drape across you. You don’t know how long the two of you lay like that; Mingyu, pressed on top of you, his cock still nestled inside of you, one arm draped across your body with his face nuzzled into your neck and you, pinned against the mattress, one hand caressing his back while the other cards through his hair. It feels like it’s been mere seconds, but an eternity could pass, and you’d still feel like it wasn’t enough time.

+ + +

It’s the call that you always expected, but simultaneously, always hoped you’d never get.

You’re numb as you rise from your bed, rifling through your drawers in the dark for clothes to change into. It doesn’t feel like you’re responsible for moving through your bedroom, getting dressed as best one can when they can’t feel anything. Chan is already waiting for you at the front door, unwilling to look at your face as he leads you out, locking the door behind the two of you and following you into the elevator just as the doors start to close. He must’ve gotten a call, too.

It feels right to drive in complete silence. You’re unable to convince yourself to bring your eyes into focus. Maybe, if you don’t look, then this won’t be real: you aren’t actually en route to the hospital’s emergency room, and you didn’t actually get a call from an unknown number, telling you that Mingyu had crashed during his race and that he was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Chan isn’t actually driving you, speechless and quiet for the first time since you’d met him. You aren’t actually being led through the tiled corridor of the hospital, harsh fluorescent lights guiding your venture down the endless hallway toward your boyfriend’s room.

Mingyu is drinking from a juice box when you finally set eyes on him. That little fucker.

All things considered, he looks fine. His left arm is in a sling, and there’s a deep horizontal gash underneath one of his eyes, and there are bruises starting to bloom along the crook of his neck. Otherwise, though, he’s fine. He isn’t intubated, and actually, the only other things attached to him are an IV and the heart rate monitor clipped onto his finger.

Chan enters the room a few seconds after you, letting out a huge sigh of relief at the sigh. He holds a hand to his forehead before swinging back around and stepping outside. He knows that he doesn’t want to hear the words you’ll choose to say to Mingyu.

“I love you. I love you so, so, so much.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, drawing in your arms and crossing them over your chest. He knows that he deserves this, but he still winces at the venom dripping from your words and the daggers that you’re shooting at him with your eyes. “I thought that you died, you fucking asshole! You—I am so fucking mad right now, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry. I-I was careful, I promise.”

“You’re a fucking liar! You’re in the hospital, Mingyu. Careful people don’t go to the hospital!”

You sit on the chair in the corner, purposefully away from your boyfriend, even though you didn’t miss the way that he scooted to the side in his bed to make room for you. You’re able to see his face better from this angle. He looks... tired. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he doesn’t look happy following one of his races. Figures, since he’d crashed his car. Still, there’s something different about him today.

“You must’ve been worried. I’m sorry, my angel.”

You sigh loudly, shaking your head. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be my boyfriend that works a shitty job. Hell, you don’t even need to work. We can survive on my income, and I can come home to you every day and that’ll be enough, because I’ll be happy, and you’ll be alive.” You take a breath after your monologue, exhaling slowly. “Because that’s the bar that you’ve set. I’m just happy that you’re still breathing.”

“I have somethin’ to say, too.” You look up at him, raising your eyebrows and clasping your hands together. Mingyu chews on his bottom lip for a few moments before he sighs, too. “I’m a racer. I’ve been racin’ for... God, I don’t know. I’ve been racin’ for a long time.” You let your head fall, anticipating what he’s going to say. “All that I’ve ever cared about is going fast and makin’ money. And then I met you, and my priorities... shifted. A little.” You squeeze your hands together, willing yourself to calm down. Mingyu was proving your assumptions wrong with his words, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“You... I think I’d rather die than lose you. I-I guess, if I died, that I would lose you, but th—that's not the point. I started fallin’ in love with you the very moment that I first saw you, and since then, I haven’t wanted to take my eyes off you. You’re everythin’ to me now. Racin’ is... I’ll quit. I’m sorry, and I love you, and I’ll quit if it means that we’ll stay together.”

Hot tears are already rolling down your cheeks, and as hard as you try to keep that from Mingyu, your sniffling gives you away. He coos from his place in bed and starts to throw his blankets off to approach you, but you hold your hand up and he stills. Offering another sniffle, you rise from your chair, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed. He looks at you, expectantly, and you, begrudgingly, reach out a hand. You weren’t expecting to forgive him so quickly.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

“Not right now.”

“Angel, please.” Mingyu takes your hand, trying to tug you closer to him. “Look at me. I just... you’re doin’ that thing again, where you let me bare my soul and then don’t really respond.”

You shake your head, tears flying from your eyes and landing on the hospital blanket covering Mingyu’s legs. He scoffs, using his other hand to reach forward and tilt your chin up. Seeing you cry makes his heart split and shatter, and tears start to form in his own eyes.

“I’m so fucking mad at you, Mingyu.”

He bites his tongue to refrain from cracking a joke, as he normally would. Instead, he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “And I want to stick around, so that I can keep makin’ you mad.”

“You promise?” You ask, searching his eyes for any hint of dishonesty. “You’re really done racing?”

“I don’t break my promises. Not the ones that I make to you. I promise, I swear, that I’m done.”

+ + +

“Baby, it’s late. Can we just go to sleep? Please?”

“I’m making room in your closet for my clothes, Gyu.” You scoff, pulling out another jacket. You glance over it before flipping it around, showing it to your boyfriend. “Do you wear this?”

He furrows his brows, thinking it over before dismissing you with a wave. “Not really.”

“Okay.” You toss the jacket into the box you’d designated for donating, dropping the hanger on the closet floor. Mingyu yawns loudly, stretching out in the middle of his bed. You know what he’s doing; he’s trying to entice you into joining him. He wants to persuade you to stop doing the task that he’d already put off for weeks in favor of crawling into his lap, maybe going to sleep or maybe not. Still, you’re not ready to quit yet. You pull out another jacket and repeat your actions, holding it in front of you for Mingyu to inspect it.

“Donate.”

You nod, silently agreeing with his decision. You reach back into the closet, reaching for the next jacket to pull out, but your fingers freeze when you realize what you’re touching. You pull out the leather jacket slowly – Mingyu's racing jacket. It’s the one that he was wearing the first time that you kissed him, and the second time. He wore it for your first date, claiming that it was ‘good luck,’ and he even wore it that one time that you let him fuck you against the hood of his racecar. You hold your breath as you turn around, and Mingyu’s expression darkens when he realizes what you’re holding.

He doesn’t know how to play this. It’s been months since his accident, which means it’s been months since he quit racing. He misses it sometimes, but you’re more important to him. He lets each day drag on so long as they promise, that at sundown, he’ll be able to come back to his apartment and you’ll be waiting, smiling, happy, healthy. That jacket means a lot to him.

“Donate.”

You mean more to him.

“Aw, really?” You whine, looking back down at the jacket. Mingyu scoffs and pushes himself further up on the bed, watching closely as you run your fingertips along the leather. “You looked so good when you used to wear this. I think my mouth was watering the first time we met.”

“Fuck off.” Mingyu laughs, waving you away again. “You keep it then, angel. I looked good in the jacket because I’m good looking. Please don’t attribute my good looks to my jackets.”

You put the jacket back into the closet regardless, finally shuffling across the room to the bed. You sigh as you let yourself fall onto the mattress, groaning as Mingyu rolls you onto your stomach and then tugs you closer to him. You let him do all the work, only shifting once he’s positioned underneath you. You let one of your hands snake underneath his shirt, resting on his abdomen and applying pressure, just for good measure.

“Do you miss it?” You whisper, cheek smushed against his cheek.

“Sometimes.” Mingyu whispers back, tracing shapes against your back. “I think it suited me. I was good at makin’ split-second decisions, and it worked because the only person affected by those decisions was me. And then...” He trails off, considering his next words carefully. “Then I met the love of my life, and they tried so hard to hate me and push me a—hey!”

He whines as you pinch him, prying your hand off him. He tsks at you, shaking his head before continuing his story. “As I was saying, the love of my life wanted to push me away ‘cause they didn’t want to be attached to someone with so little regard for their own life. And I couldn’t blame them, y’know? I wasn’t happy about it, though, so I kept tryin’ and, somehow, it worked.”

“I already know the story, Gyu.” You grumble. Still, you’ll never get tired of hearing him refer to you as the love of his life. You still have no idea how he knew, from that very first moment, that it had to be you, though. “I love you too. I don’t think I say it enough.”

“I didn’t want this to become sappy.” He sneers, pinching your cheek. “I was actually hopin’ that you’d ride my face.”

“I’m tired.” You yawn, replacing your hand on his chest, over his shirt, and rubbing up and down along his abdomen. “I could give you a hand job, though.”

“Don’t want that.” Mingyu groans.

You lift your eyebrows in surprise. Your boyfriend, turning down a hand job? You lift your hand up and press the back of it against his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, though.”

“You’re annoying.” He scowls. “You just told me that you don’t want me to eat you out, and I’m not makin’ a big deal of it.”

You let your hand drop from Mingyu’s forehead, tracing your fingertips along his jaw. “If we’re both tired, we can just fuck in the morning.”

“We don’t fuck in the morning.” You offer him a quizzical look. He wraps both of his arms around you, squeezing you and rolling both of you until you’re on your back and his cheek is pressed against your stomach. “In the morning, we make love.”

“Didn’t you call me a slut the last time that we made love?”

He lifts his head up, narrowing his eyes at you. “You liked it.”

“Yeah, I did.” You sigh, easing your fingers through Mingyu’s hair and forcing his head back down, onto your stomach. “Where do you think you’d be if we hadn’t met?”

“Wildly unhappy.” He scoffs. “Dead. What about you?”

You hum quietly, scratching against his scalp. “Probably... also unhappy. Well, I don’t think that I wasn’t happy before I met you, but I think, right now, I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been.”

The two of you lapse into silence. The sounds of the neighborhood – dogs barking, cars honking – seep through every so often, but you hardly noticed, aware, instead, of your boyfriend’s presence. When you first met Mingyu, you knew that he would find a way to infiltrate your life, to become the oxygen that you needed to breathe. When you first met Mingyu, you felt like you were breathing and drowning at the same time. Nowadays, you don’t feel like you’re drowning, but you aren’t breathing normally, either. It’s the same for him, you’re sure; it’s all about him, even when it isn’t. You could be focused on something else, but you’ll never be able to fully attend to anything else.

It’s for this reason that you’ve had to scold him, on so many occasions, to keep his eyes on the road when driving. He just can’t seem to focus on anything but you, and somehow, his recklessness has worn off and you find yourself in the same predicament.

Just as you finally shut your eyes, you feel Mingyu twitching against you.

He’s laughing. “It’s a good thing that you decided to fuck with a racer, huh?”

#mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #svt x reader #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #hengqarae #1k #1.5k

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jaylver · 10 months

Text

MIDNIGHT RAIN (BACK TO YOU) — S.JY

SYNOPSIS: You declared to the world that this summer will be yours. Ever since you’ve left home to chase your dream further in Europe, you never dared to look back, leaving your friends and family along with the precious memories there, including your silent love for your closest friend. Years passed, you were making a name for yourself and chasing that fame, settling in perfectly fine and eventually moved on with life. All was well until the transfer window came, announcing a new addition to the men’s first team, who also happened to be your childhood best friend, Jake Sim. Summer in Spain wouldn’t be what it is without experiencing lots of rekindling, heartbreaks, fallout but also a shot at love.

PAIRINGS: pro-footballer!jake x pro-footballer afab!reader

GENRE: childhood friends to lovers, college/professional sports au, romance, angst, pining, (slight) slow burn

WARNING(S): mentions of alcohol, drinking, parties, profanities, miscommunication, jake being a dense asshole at times, both are confused about their feelings, hee being the group therapist again, slight suggestiveness

WC: 18k

AUTHOR NOTES: for my people who don't know which football this is, it's kickball football aka soccer 🫶 this is dedicated to my jake (enha stans in general) enthusiasts who happens to love football just like me! like always, feedbacks are greatly, HUGELY appreciated! it'll genuinely motivate me <3 enjoy :)

part 3 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

‘Y/N L/N TO JOIN FC BARCELONA FEMENI ON A FIVE YEAR DEAL. HERE WE GO.’

Sometimes, chasing your dreams meant leaving everything you loved behind and sacrificing a shit ton just to get to where you want to be.

Football has always been your passion since you were barely walking or even talking. The icons you’ve watched on TV every weekend such as Maradona, Messi and Pele only gave you more drive to chase that dream of yours, even when relatives disregarded it as a so-called ‘impossible childish dream’. Growing up, you joined your local youth team, where the boys and girls played together regardless, sharing the equal amount of joy and love for the sport.

Being barely five, you found yourself having a hard time mixing around with a bunch of kids that were one, two years older, feeling greatly out of place. Look, you were immensely grateful that you were regarded as a wonder kid that was significantly more talented than a whole load of your peers, but getting placed into a den full of kids taller and older than you? That was scary.

That was until a boy approached you out of the blue, confidently reaching his hand out for introductions. He was the cutest boy you’ve ever laid your eyes on and you swore he was miles better than the boys at your kindergarten. The boy who had a smile that resembled the sun and energy that reflected a jumpy golden retriever puppy was a year older than you, and he introduced himself as Jake Sim or Sim Jaeyun, volunteering to be your partner in practice. Since then, you’ve only gotten closer to Jake, not knowing he was about to be a permanent figure in your life.

The moment you’ve reached seven, the team was splitted into girls and boys, which meant you were unable to play with Jake anymore, but that didn't stop you from meeting up and practising together.

"You've gotten taller," you remembered yourself telling him that one afternoon.

Jake looked up from the ball under his foot, sweaty strands of hair clinging onto his forehead. "Really?"

"No."

Banter and jokes were frequent between you two, you loved pulling pranks on him and vice versa. It was common knowledge that you and Jake were inseparable leading up till highschool where everyone thought you and him were a couple, could you believe that? Okay, maybe living in the same neighbourhood, hanging out 24/7, constantly in the park playing football, having dinner almost every night together, studying in the same college and getting accepted into the national team at the same time were quite off putting for some people … right? You were in denial.

Safe to say you and Jake grew up to be great footballers and even better people. College was undeniably an obstacle for you, but as long as there was a football team, you were going to be fine, and fine you were, great even, when you joined the college football team while Jake joined the men’s team, representing your college to tournaments.

You would go to his games and watch him score goals while he would do the same and cheer you on. Soon enough, at freshly eighteen and nineteen, both of you were approached by widely known clubs from all over Europe for your signatures on a professional contract. This was it, college could wait, this was what mattered, you didn’t work your ass off for nothing.

"Bayern contacted you? You're kidding!"

It was a Saturday night at your place, a basic tradition that you and Jake had every weekend if there weren't any training or matches going on. A random low budget film in the background, a bowl of popcorn in the middle, you and your best friend laid on the ground of your bedroom, sharing the latest insight of your lives.

"I can't imagine myself in Germany though," Jake pouted, pulling the blanket closer to his chin. "What about you? Anything new?"

"Not much. There's the Arsenal Women's team that contacted me, they're good too," you shrugged.

"But you love the sun! Heard England's a bit gloomy,"

"You're not wrong," you snorted, shaking your leg a little, and soon it fell into silence, a pensive one.

You glanced over at Jake, the sparks in his brown eyes never left, the quirk tugged at the edge of his lips remained, he never changed, not at all. "Jake?"

"Hm?" He hummed in response, his gaze trained at the TV screen, gradually getting engrossed.

"What if we end up on different sides of the world? You know, with our future clubs and all,"

“I don’t think anything would ever change between us no matter what happens,” his words were filled with absolute confidence, saying it as if he had a clear idea of what the future might look, whereas you were overwhelmed just from thinking about it.

“Really?”

“You’ll still be my forever person, Y/N. Swear.”

You remembered those exact words from months ago, not expecting everything to turn sour almost immediately when you showed up on Jake’s doorstep right after you just signed your first contract. Endless thoughts swarmed your head, you prepared yourself for every reaction you could imagine from Jake. He had just returned from a training camp overseas, he must've been tired and this was bad timing, but you didn't have a choice either.

"Y/N?" The sun was already beginning to set by the time you reached his house by foot. The moment Jake opened the door, his face morphed into confusion as you tried your best to not break into cold sweat. "What're you doing here? I just got back and there's too much to unpack—the way there's college still is making me go nuts, I’m not going to be surviving in class—I promise I'll spill everything soon—"

"Jake," his name poured out of your lips naturally, except this time it had a dreadful undertone to it that you failed to mask. "I'm leaving,"

He blinked. One. Two. Two beats. "Leaving? To the camp you were saying? So soon—?"

"No, Jake, I–I'm leaving forever. Not forever and never returning kind of 'forever' but I'm moving away and I don't know when I'll be back. I know this is such a bad time to tell you since you just got back and I feel like such a jerk for dumping it all on you suddenly, but I wanted to break the news before you found it out from the tabloids—"

"Y/N, breathe," Jake reminded, instantly knowing your quirks which included this aka rambling whenever you got panicky, giving you a reassuring smile that felt like a ray of sunshine beaming on you. He was not making you feel better, instead he had you wishing you were staying instead.

"I'm moving to Spain, Jake," you swallowed, just saying it was absolutely surreal, you couldn't grasp the concept of moving from your hometown, you were about to be on your own and you were scared, petrified.

"You signed with Barcelona?" Jake gasped, a smile itching at the corner of his lips.

"I did," you said quietly, nodding.

"That's amazing! You've been dreaming of this. It’s such a big deal! Looks like you’ll be playing pro-football instead of collegiate football now, should I get your signature first?" Jake reached out to squeeze your shoulder, attempting at a joke but he immediately caught onto the solemn look on your face, leaning in to stare at you closer. This shouldn't be making your heart beat. "You don't seem happy,"

"It's not that, it's just that I—"

I like you.

"I will miss you … like crazy. I'm just not ready for change and I don't want to leave you back here," you stumbled on your words, making sure to not slip and ruin everything. Obviously saying 'I like you' and leaving afterwards was such a douche move, so what else was there to do but shutting up?

Jake let out a guttural sigh, and that alone definitely spoke more than words ever could. You furrowed your eyebrows, nervousness crept into your stomach. "Are you mad? Are you … angry?"

“Angry?” Jake repeated, disbelief evident in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what you were accusing him of. His gaze softened, a glaze of affection taking over his brown irises. “How can I be mad at you for chasing your dreams? No way. I'm happy you're getting a shot at what you love,”

The boy that was standing in front of you was trying his best to remain optimistic, the smile on his face never faded, but you, on the other hand, were holding back tears. He was a sunshine, your sunshine, the one you soon had to let go.

"Jake…" your voice was weak, you took a step closer, then another, until you closed the space between and engulfed him into your arms. His body tensed for a moment, taken off guard by your sudden action, but he eventually wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in. He felt like home, his familiar cologne was something you would never forget, the way his eyes crinkled whenever he smiled, his small giggles, the times you and he had walked around the tiny local football stadium, you couldn’t believe you were leaving all that behind.

"You're going to go far, Y/N, I've known that since the day we met," Jake whispered, his hand caressing the back of your head.

"I'll miss you … so so much," you repeated those words again, squeezing him tighter. You never wanted to let him go, and unknowingly, he felt the same.

"I'll miss you too," he pressed a kiss against the side of your head, and it felt as if it was a last goodbye.

You pulled away slowly, though reluctant to do so. His eyes locked with yours, longing and unwillingness hung in the air. “Will you come and send me off?”

“That’s a no brainer,” he laughed quietly, nodding enthusiastically.

“You better turn up.”

That was one of the last things you remembered saying to him before you left and everything turned into a blur. You were beginning to be a mess, the tears were eventually flowing out and it turned into big sobs. Thank the heavens no one was around when you walked home, or else they would be absolutely mortified to see a girl who was crying as if she was heartbroken. Well, quite?

What you didn’t and would never know was the fact that after you’ve left and the door slammed shut, Jake broke down into tears. In his nineteen years of living and winning tournaments, he swore he only cried a few times, all that was countable by hand. But this time, he felt worse than before.

Unbeknownst to you, you continued on your last few days thinking Jake was doing fine while you tried your best to seem sane. Saying your goodbyes to coaches from your college football team to your childhood club and even to your teammates, friends and relatives was hard, leaving your whole childhood here and moving away was too much of a big girl move, one that you weren’t fully prepared for.

Bags and luggages were packed, you fitted half of your life into those cramped spaces and you were loading them into the counter, your passport and flight ticket in one hand, your phone in the other. You were feverishly scrolling through many unread messages, not caring about them, you were just looking for one. No matter how many times you’ve refreshed, Jake never left you any messages, nor was he present to send you off.

“Honey, you good?” your mother checked in on you, noticing the fall in your expression.

“Huh?” you glanced up from your phone, shutting it off and shoving it into your back pocket. “I’m okay,”

“Is it Jake?”

At the mention of his name, your frown deepened and your mother sighed quietly, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to the waiting area. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, you’re leaving and there’s no way he’s letting you leave without saying a goodbye,”

“You think so? The flight’s leaving in an one or two,”

“It’s you. Jake cares about you a lot, you know that?”

There was no doubt about that. You knew so. You merely hummed, a slight hope sparked in you, but you said nothing, deciding to plug your earphones in and wait patiently instead, occasionally checking your phone for any notifications from said man, but there was none.

Those short hours eventually slipped past your fingers. The times you’ve glanced around were uncountable, the man you longed for to appear was nowhere to be seen, to say to were deflated was a given.

“Honey…” your mother rubbed your back gently and in comfort. You brushed off the feeling that was eating you and replaced your frown with your best smile, hoping to be able to reassure your mother that everything was fine, even if you felt the opposite of it.

“It’s okay, we should get going,”

Once you’ve located your boarding gate, you and your mother hugged in goodbye, exchanging final words, her constant reminders rung in your ears as you tried to suppress the oncoming anxiety and sadness that was gradually swallowing you wholly. Just as you said your last goodbye, turning around and ready to walk through your gate, you heard footsteps running behind you. You assumed it was someone rushing for their flight, that was until somebody had shouted your name.

“Y/N!”

Time stood still at that moment. The voice you wanted to hear for so long finally sounded in your ears. You were wondering if the tiredness had eventually gotten to you and you were hallucinating, but you weren't. He was real, right in front of you.

"Jake?" You whipped your head around, but before you could register anything else, Jake had thrown himself onto you, hands wrapped around your figure. His body crushed you and the warmth from him made you feel ten times better.

"I'm so sorry," he said profusely, rocking you side to side in his arms. "I was scared that I wouldn't be able to send you off. Something came up and I tried my best to rush here. Not to mention my phone fucking died on me too, I was panicking—"

"Jakey, all it matters is that you're here right now and nothing else," you reassured, relief filling you. “I’m just really happy to see you now,” you rubbed his back gently, hearing his ragged breathing by your ear.

Neither one of you wanted to let go, just letting time pass in each other’s arms and hoping that maybe all of this was a dream. Time was ticking agonisingly quick, you wished it was those moments where everything moved slow, but alas, you can’t have it entirely your way, can’t it? Soon, you had no choice but to pull away from Jake, praying he wasn’t an illusion tricking you.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” your voice came out weaker than expected and Jake seemed to notice it, his gaze softening significantly.

His callous hands cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing against the side of your eye softly. “Hey, you’re finally achieving your dreams. Think of that instead of me,”

You let out a choke that was meant to be a scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. “How could I possibly not think of you? You’re important to me, Jake,”

“And you’re important to me too, Y/N. I want to see you shine, and you will, I believe in you,” Jake squeezed your cheek slightly before removing his hand and reaching it to the back of his neck, unclasping the necklace he’s always worn. “I want you to have this,” he placed the necklace into your hands, the moon pendant shone bright under the bright lights.

“I can’t take this, you’ve always had it with you, it’s your lucky charm during matches—”

“I want to have it, genuinely,” Jake closed your hand around the chain, giving you one of his signature calming smiles. “Take care of it for me, the next time we meet I better see it around your neck okay?”

“I promise,”

“Don’t break it,” he laughed softly, his hand still holding onto yours.

You glanced at the time, cursing under your breath, realising this was it. This was the moment you were finally leaving to chase the dream you’ve always longed for. Jake probably understood that it was the time to let go, his gaze falling to the ground and he heaved a big breath.

“It’s time for you to go, Y/N,”

“It is,” you held your breath, longing for Jake’s touch to never leave, but time had to be a sore, leaving you no more extra minutes to spend and you had to let go, feeling the warmth of his hand no longer on yours. “Goodbye, Jake.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

That was where everything melted into a blur, the last waves of goodbye faint in your mind as you entered the plane, squeezing along the isles to locate your seat. You prepared for a long flight, closing your eyes and picturing the things that were awaiting you, but the thought of him eventually slipped in, haunting you.

Everything was about to change, and you didn’t know if it was for the best or for the worst.

RISING TO FAME WASN'T ON YOUR CHECKLIST.

Your first season was great, but the second and third were better, stellar even. This caught many eyes of football fans and Barcelona fans loved you with their hearts. Awards were won, achievements were made, but promises were broken.

It has been almost three years since that day in the airport. Crazy, huh? At the start, you had a hard time coping in a foreign country with zero knowledge of the local culture and the language. Not to mention, going to classes in your new college was challenging, you couldn’t even ask for directions. It was a blessing you opted not to share a dorm there and live on your own in the city instead, who knows what sabotages the language barrier and differences were going to do to you?

Thankfully, your teammates were kind enough to let you room with them and drive you to campus. One of them was able to communicate with you, but the other only spoke Spanish. Though the messy language barrier created confusions and misunderstandings, you somehow managed to not get evicted in the end and your Spanish was progressing positively.

Jake was a recurring appearance in your life. He often facetimes you, making sure to tell you his day from start to bottom, sharing about the parties he went to, his new hockey friends, the fresh discovery on the crazy world of college ice hockey, it was refreshing to hear him babble about everything from football to his college life after a long day, rolling around in bed giggling like a high school girl all over again. But that was all during what people called the ‘honeymoon era’, not knowing the eventual changes that you soon had to face.

Each year passed by in a blur. In the first, you constantly talked and kept in contact, but during the second year when Jake signed with Bayern Munich from the German league, his schedule was too packed and yours were the same, resulting in less communication. Occasional ‘congrats’ and ‘you did amazing’ were exchanged, but that was all. On your twenty-first birthday, you spent it with your friends and teammates, having a great time, but you were too caught up wishing Jake would text you a ‘happy birthday’ instead.

Drifting from someone was too easy, but letting them go entirely was hard. You were twenty one, winning awards and on the top of the league, but you still missed your day one, and you wondered if he felt the same or if it was just you. Yet, you couldn't be mad at him, unable to hold a grudge despite the fact that he hadn't tried enough, because you did the same.

“Can’t believe the season ended just like that,” Alexia, your captain and roommate slipped next to you, casually scrolling on her phone.

“It’s already been a few months, Alexia, it’s time for us to rest,” you smiled, understanding her love for playing especially since she had just recovered from a months-long injury and was craving for more play time. “There’s still a month left until the next season,”

“You’re right,” she hummed, her eyebrows furrowing as she glanced closer at her phone. “Barca has been investing a lot on new players lately,”

“There’s a number of new additions to the men's team,” you noted, scrolling on Twitter for any fresh news as well. “It’s valid since some of them left,”

“There’s a new addition today too, look it up. It’s an asian player,”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. It’s not new that asian players were underrepresented in European football, the only one who was currently widely known was Son Heung Min, so hearing this was promising. Filled with curiosity, you typed into the search bar, wondering who this mystery player was.

No way.

What you didn’t expect was the picture of your childhood best friend, Jake Sim, popping up, his name littered all over the timeline, a load of news articles written about his latest transfer to Spain, specifically Barcelona, not Madrid. The other thing that totally set you off was a specific line he said in an interview about his transfer to Barcelona, ‘I’m ready for Spain and I know someone well who’s there right now, I hope to be able to see them.’ Unprovoked?

“Transferring from Bayern,” Alexia continued, cooing under her breath. “He’ll fit in well with Lewandowski in no time,” she glanced up from your phone, seeing your stunned expression and your rigid body. “Y/N?”

“Y–Yeah?” you stuttered, heartbeat rising gradually. You couldn’t believe this. After months of not talking, not even a slight update, he decided to move to the city you lived in without any notice. Worse of all, you couldn’t even avoid him. “Yes—no, not doing well actually,”

“Why?”

“Remember that friend who I kinda drifted off with?”

“The one who’s also a footballer—?” Alexia gasped upon realisation, eyes widened and her hands on her mouth. “You’re kidding. That’s him? The guy you called almost every night?”

“Bingo,” you clicked your tongue, crossing your arms and wishing how you could just scream into a pillow now.

The front door unlocked, twisted open and revealed Natalia, your other roommate, who happened to be holding bags of grocery in her hands. “What did I miss?” She said slowly, noticing the frazzled expressions of you and Alexia.

“The guy Y/N talks to every night is joining the men's team,”

“Jake Sim? He's the one who you grew up with?” Natalia dropped the bags, her keys and everything she had on hand, scooting over to join you on the couch.

“Yeah … him,”

“Tell me more.”

The new season for the women’s league was starting in a month and you certainly did a great job in avoiding Jake. You would applaud yourself at one point.

Barcelona might’ve been a big city, but with almost every Barcelona player staying in the same area, you would occasionally run into them, which meant the chances of seeing Jake was high. Not to mention, some of your training sessions at the training grounds would be either before or after the men’s team, and you made obvious efforts to run away quickly. You weren’t scared of Jake, no, never, but were you ready to face him after years of not seeing each other? Not really …

Through the help of Twitter, you found out that he had already completed his medicals, the announcement was out and he had given an interview. With the first game for the men's team coming up soon, the official account posted a training video and your eyes could only linger on him. His hair was freshly dyed blond and he seemed healthier, happier.

Everything was well and at peace until the news for you broke out. With the women's league starting later than the men's, you were apparently invited to be a special broadcaster for the men’s first league game, live, and by the pitch, meaning you were going to interview the players, Jake Sim included. For all the effort you’ve given to avoid Jake, the world seemed to have other plans for you. It was as if the universe was rooting for you to meet him again.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Natalia was seated on your bed as Alexia rummaged through your closet, picking out any presenter's appropriate outfit, dresses, shirts, skirts and pants all splayed out on your bed and floor.

“Fuck no,” you groaned, picking up a shirt that fell to ground. “I know I shouldn’t be avoiding him, we’ve been friends since we were kids, but the changes between us is drastic,”

“Drastic?” Alexia hummed, shoving back some pieces that weren’t in her criteria.

“After he transferred to Bayern, we talked less. He was the same, but something between us wasn’t. He said I changed,” you sighed, still remembering the conversation clearly.

“What did he even mean by that?” Natalia scoffed.

“No idea. I don’t think I’ve changed,”

“Does he think the 'fame' or something changed you in some ways?” Alexia's eyes sparked at the sight of a long black dress, a sly smile on her face.

“No clue, it's not like I can just hop into his mind,” you groaned, biting your lips nervously. “You’ve got the one already?”

“Duh,” Alexia said proudly, handing you a black midi silk dress that you haven't worn in a long time.

“Really?” You raised a questioning eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

“Hey, it's professional and eye-catching, totally appropriate,” Natalia chimed in, nudging you slightly.

“I'm sure someone will appreciate it.” Alexia winked and you were about to throw a pillow at her, but due to the limited time you have before kickoff, you might have to delay that.

You arrived early to the stadium, greeting the staff and hoping you made a good impression. Football was much easier than broadcasting on live television, even if it meant you were just a special presenter, you were still anxious. Fans were already filing in and you were done setting up, the pregame show had started and it was your cue to join.

“Here we have Y/N from the women’s team to join us this evening,” your co-presenter welcomed you. “How are you doing?”

“Great, thank you,” you smiled at the latter.

“Today marks the first league game of the season at home, fans are excited, what are your score predictions?”

You gave it a thought for a moment, choosing your words right in case of offending any Barcelona fans lurking on Twitter. “It’s hard to say, but I’m confident in Barca, and I’m sure the team will want to win the game, so I’ll say 1-0,”

“I’ll say the same too,” your co-presenter laughed, nodding in agreement. “As for the latest transfers from this summer window, there’s been a number but the one that caught my eye is the young prospect, Jake Sim, I’m excited to see him playing today,”

At the mention of his name, something inside you churned. A mix of butterflies and overwhelming pining washed over you, as much as you’ve avoided him, you equally missed his presence. “He’s a great player, I’m sure about that,”

“We’ll look forward to his performance later on. The game shall be starting after a short break. Until then.”

The prematch segment was done, but you weren’t entirely free, having to fulfil your position for the post match interview at the end. It wasn’t entirely bad, you were actually anticipating to watch Jake on the pitch in person after years. The clips on YouTube weren't enough, but you definitely noticed his vast growth and improvement.

The match started off slow, both team's defence were too strong and none were able to go past one another's territory. It was getting closer to halftime with no goals scored, your attention eventually shifted to the bench, your eyes immediately spotting a certain blond. Despite him being almost half a football pitch away from you, your eyes weren't fooling you that it was in fact Jake, and he was breathtaking, and real.

Before you gave him the chance to realise you're staring, you made sure to turn away. Maybe you were the problem, you were scared to face him, and you didn't know why, probably the awkwardness was the main reason. Did he feel the same?

After giving a short interview and accessing the first half, the second half started with a couple players getting substituted off. Jake was among the few players being substituted on, making his first match debut for the club. Your heart thumped, this was deja vu to the time you watched him make his debut for his first club. It was similar, and you were there too.

Watching him play live was different compared to the videos you've watched, he was phenomenal. No wonder many European clubs were on his tail trying to get him to sign for them. His time in Germany definitely made him grow a lot as a player.

"He's good," your co-presented mused, his eyes trained on the game that was 2-0 up, Barcelona leading without any doubt.

"Which?"

"The new transfer. Number five," he nodded towards Jake, his jersey number shining brightly under the sun as he dribbled past defenders, kicking the ball and assisting another goal.

"Wow! Another assist," your co-presenter jumped out his seat cheering, and you smiled, sure that he was about to receive 'man of the match' today. "He's a future star,"

"He's already a star."

The match ended with a win, starting the new season in a pop and letting fans travel home with a happy heart. You and your co-presenter went through the highlights of the match, soon it was time for the interview.

It wasn't pressuring as you knew most of the players, laughing and cracking jokes in between some questions, congratulating on the win and what not. Until it was Jake's turn, he was approaching slowly as people around him were throwing praises and clapping him on the back, his laughter was no stranger to you, you didn’t need a second thought to know that it was him at once, then he stumbled into your sight, those familiar brown eyes met yours, unblinking as if he was figuring out who you were.

"Jake,"

Now that he was closer, you were able to see him clearly. He never changed, he still radiates the same sunshine puppy energy that you've missed. The pictures you’ve seen online didn’t do him any justice either, he was insanely pretty, jaw dropping and mind blowing, the blond hair was a great addition.

"Hi," his voice came out in a whisper, as if he couldn't believe you were right in front of him at that moment. "Y/N," your name left his lips with a spark of fascination, until now you never forgot his voice and the way he said your name.

"Great game today for your debut," you tried shaking off the tension in the air, remaining as professional as you could be, but it was faltering.

"Thank you. I'm glad I didn't mess up," he bowed his head with a small smile.

"Congrats on getting 'Man of the Match', your assists were top,"

"You think so?"

"Of course I do," you nodded instantly. "I'm sure the fans thought so too,"

"I'm glad," he hummed, and it reminded you of those times he would seek your reassurance in practice or after games. Guess old habits are hard to die.

"Thanks for joining us for the interview, Jake. Congrats once again."

You ended the segment with a few more additions before wrapping up and calling it a day officially. As you walked down the tunnel, you thought of your short-lived interaction with Jake, wondering if this was the only moment you'd get with him before you two continue on straying apart again, but it seemed life had other plans.

You let out a yelp as you turned a corner, feeling someone tug at your wrist, pulling you into their chest and you took a solid ten seconds to realise it was Jake, staring up at him with your hands on his chest, to which you quickly removed along with your body in general.

"What are you doing?" You hissed out, glancing around in case of any camera recording.

"I just wanted to say hi," Jake shrugged and you gave him an unamused stare. "Maybe more than a 'hi', I wanted to see you, talk to you," he paused, his eyes flickering. "You look great,"

"Huh?"

Jake coughed, his gaze sweeping over your body to your face. "You look amazing, seriously,"

A small laugh of amusement escaped your lips. "Thank you, you look … great as well. I love what you did to your hair,"

His hands flew to his blond strands, smiling sweetly. "I'm glad you like it, it's a bold change,"

"It is," you nodded, a sudden silence settled between you and Jake, the awkwardness you feared was somehow present.

"I miss you," those three words poured out of Jake's lips without any warning.

You could feel your heart twist and jump, his words settled heavily in your mind. "I miss you too, Jake,"

"I'm sorry," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry for the times where I … I let go too easily. It wasn't easy being in a new country and I guess I let it get to my head, and I ended up throwing you aside too much. I should've been there for your 21st just as you did for mine,"

You didn't expect a direct confrontation today, maybe a small reconciliation but that was all, not a full blown apology.

"It's alright," closure was what you needed … right? "I didn't try to fix the gap between us then too, so … it wasn't entirely you," your hands were unconsciously fidgeting. "Now that you're here, maybe we can patch things up a little, what do you say?"

"I'd love to," Jake smiled, a wave of relief seemed to have washed over you two, the awkwardness and frigidity faded away and it was you and him again, just like always. "I haven't toured Barcelona at all ever since I got here. Would you have the honour to be my tour guide?"

"I'm not the best at it but I'll try," you laughed. "My Spanish is still in the works,"

"I need a head start too," Jake noted thoughtfully. "I got to change and freshen up. I'm sure you're tired too and you're dying to get home so I won't bother you further,"

"It's fine, I'll always have time for you," you reassured, unbeknownst to you his eyes lighting up at your words. "I'll give you a call or a text. Maybe we can arrange that tour soon,"

"Sweet. I'll wait for it,"

"You better."

jakey: free tomorrow?

you: i am :)

jakey: great! let’s have that tour tomorrow?

you: i’m down

“GOING OUT?”

You turned around, face-to-face with Alexia who had her typical questioning stare whenever something wasn’t right. It was early, quite unusual for you since you were always the late riser out of all three, but you had plans … with somebody.

You nodded sheepishly.

“With who?”

“Jake,”

“Oh?” Alexia grinned, gradually getting invested. “He finally had the balls to ask you out?”

“It’s not like that,” you waved her off. “I’m just bringing him around the city. He texted me yesterday,”

“Is he taking you back to his after?”

“Alexia!” you gasped, a hand on your chest for more dramatics.

“Kidding,” she chuckled, and finished fixing up her breakfast. “Be careful and if anything happens, God forbid, call me. If he’s a jerk, call me and I’ll pick you up,”

“I will … thank you,” you smiled warmly.

“No need to be, Nat and I will be here for you always.”

Jake was waiting right below your apartment complex, you were secretly jumping inside, taking bigger steps to get closer quickly. You didn’t realise how much you’ve missed him until now. He probably heard your oncoming footsteps, turned around and broke into his signature sweet smile. Jake surely knew how to swoon one over with his fashion, didn’t he? He was dressed in a casual loose white button up paired with straight jeans, making sure to have the first few buttons undone for some extra effect.

“Morning,” he pulled you into a short hug, his cologne entered your senses, the same cologne he had been wearing since forever. His gaze averted south, a familiar necklace was hanging around your neck, the moon pendant shining brightly under the sun. "You kept that?"

"Huh?" You followed his stare, glancing down to where your necklace sat, the one Jake had given you before your departure. "What? Of course I do," your hand absentmindedly reached for it. "Your good luck charm gives me good luck too,"

A smile etched onto Jake's face, a pleasant look painted his expressions, seemingly content as he switched the topic and continued on.

“Had breakfast yet?” you shook your head. “Perfect. I’ve been dying to try this one spot nearby, let’s go,”

“We’re walking there?”

“Duh, walking is a must for tourist experience,”

“I’m lazy,” you whined, huffing.

“You’re a professional athlete, a little walking won’t hurt,”

“I’m sure me beating you up will,”

Jake let out an airy laugh, his hand on your back pushing you gently and you had no choice but to comply. It was a quiet walk over to the cafe he recommended, maybe it was still early, but you remained quiet and basked in the summer sun, your shoulders occasionally bumping along the way.

"So …" you started, sitting down on an empty spot at a table, doing your best at striking up a conversation. "Bayern, huh? I thought you couldn't picture yourself in Germany,"

Jake shrugged, pursing his lips. "Had no other options, they were one of the big clubs and I just agreed," he shook his head, smiling a little. "People change, thoughts change, you know?"

"Right," you nodded.

"Only thing I hated about it there is how far away I was from you," he added, his gaze never leaving yours, but he eventually changed the topic, diffusing the tension in between. “Going to classes in a German college is hard though,”

“You’re still studying engineering?” you weren’t surprised at all, aside from Jake’s footballing abilities, he was a smart guy, one who loved science and was a little nerdy.

“I am,” he nodded with a small smile. “I think I’m going to the same college as you, right?”

“No way? I think you are,” you were a skilled hider at this point, not even bumping into him on campus was either great luck or just ill fate. “It’s hard holding up here, I might've been here a few years but everything’s still new. How are you even holding up with school here?”

Jake shrugged plainly, a nonchalant look on his face. “Had ups and downs but I don’t think I’ll give up easily. You seem to be doing fine so I think I’ll be equally fine here too … hopefully,”

“Nothing’s going to be too big of a challenge for a smart guy like you,” you teased, Jake rolling his eyes in response.

"Anyway, what's Barcelona like for you? I've seen the things you've done so far and honestly, I'm not surprised at how good you are," Jake took a sip out of his drink. "I mean, you always are, always have been,"

You bite back the surprise, especially the words you wanted to say. "Thank you," you said slowly, "I saw your break out at Bayern too, and your first game here, you've improved a lot, you're too good,"

"Learn from the best," he nodded at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You're still such a jokester,”

“Of course I am,” Jake raised his eyebrows, biting his lips as he pondered whether to ask the question lingering in his mind. Fuck it. “Any admirers here in Barcelona?”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows, surprised at his up-frontness. Oh, now he’s suddenly interested in this part of your life? “I don't, unless you count the training ground as one,”

He laughed, shoulders visibly relaxing gradually. It was your turn to strike. “What about you? I definitely saw videos of you partying somewhere on Twitter before,” you didn’t mean it to sound a little jealousy laced when you said it, but the teeniest tiny bit of it was genuine, yet you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

“Seriously? Twitter? I was there hanging out with my friends, no funny business with girls by the way,” he shrugged and narrowed his gaze at your obvious teasing grin. “Currently single and available,”

“Really? The same man who claimed he has charms out of the world is still single all these years?”

“Hey, I could be waiting for someone else, or at least work up the courage to even bag them,” he defended,

“Who?” you leaned in close, anticipating for some juicy intel, a sip of hot tea, anything.

Jake smirked, his typical playful one that you were no stranger to. He wasn’t going to spill, was he? “They know … I hope,”

His gaze burned into yours, the vague answer only spurred you on further. Could it be a random girl on campus? A girl he met while partying? Could it be … you? Wake up, gosh, there’s no way your childhood best friend liked you too, right? You have yet to tell anyone or even admit it out loud that you somewhat liked Jake, the feelings you had from years ago, back before you left, continued burning internally, getting fainter and fainter each passing year, but it reignited gradually now that he was here.

Soon, the morning melted into reminiscing of the past and sharing different stories that you both missed of each other. Walking around under the clear sky, you brought him around the city, to the famous landmarks, markets, and attractions. It was a blast, especially after years of not seeing one another face to face.

The sun eventually set and night came, the city coming to life at once. You and Jake somehow wound up at a beachside restaurant, enjoying a fancy meal before running towards the sandy beach, playing around just like the times you were kids, until you got too worn out and laid among the sands.

"I missed this," you panted, head turning over to see a heaving Jake who could only hum out in response.

"Us, running around, it was a long time since we've done this together," you waited for a beat, then continued. "I missed us, Jake,"

Jake looked over, locking eyes with you. "I'm here now, aren't I?" He chuckled, his hands reaching over to grasp yours.

You were glad he was back in your life again, but it was evident that something had changed, and it wasn't going to be the same as always.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF BACK AT THE STADIUM ON ONE OF THE men's league games, personally invited by Jake as he somehow managed to convince you to come.

Ever since that day out in the city, you felt something spark between you and him, he was texting you frequently, exchanging stories and what not. You were glad that your friendship was rekindling, but the watered down feelings from over the years seemed to return, growing stronger gradually, which meant you were inevitably troubled.

"Y/N!" you didn't expect Jake to go out of his way before the game to show up at the lounge area, greeting you enthusiastically.

"Jake," you exchanged a hug and some 'how are you's. "Nervous?"

"You always know I am. Just a little less with you here, just like the old days,"

"You're going to do good," you assured.

"Not going to let you down," he saluted you, before catching the clock ticking and the game nearing. With a haste goodbye, he left and you made your way towards the stands.

The game started off strongly, and Jake definitely stuck to his words, making his first start for the team and already performing astoundingly. His footwork, the way he passed through defenders, you were amazed every time you watched him play.

Barcelona had the advantage by leading first, but as the game passed, the opponent team somehow gained the momentum and scored a goal before half time, which deflated the home fans.

Once the second half started, Barcelona was looking for a breakthrough, anything, seemingly desperate and increasingly frustrated. That was until a perfect pass to Jake where magic actually happened. A swift turn and a sharp kick were enough for Jake to score a beautiful goal into the net and the stadium erupted into cheers.

Your gaze was trained on Jake, standing up now as you joined supporters in cheering along. But what shocked you was what he did next. He was running the lengths of the field as usual footballers do in celebration, but his hands formed the initial of your name, showing the letter obviously and it was no doubt that he was dedicating this to you. At the same time, his eyes were searching for somebody, you.

Once you met his gaze from above, he broke into a wide smile, blowing you a kiss before letting his teammates engulf him into hugs.

Everything melted into a blur. Did Jake Sim just dedicated his first goal and a celebration to you? He did, in front of thousands.

The game ended with a win. Jake, who had scored the winner, was getting cheers from fans all over. You were quick to exit the stands, making your way to the tunnel until you noticed Jake's approaching figure.

"Y/N!"

Just as always, he happily called your name, a smile so wide it had your knees weak. He was about to give you a hug before you backed away.

"You're sweaty,"

He pouted, resembling a sad puppy. "Don't be mean,"

"I'm not," you exclaimed, punching his shoulder lightheartedly. "You were so great, congrats on your first goal,"

"Thank you," he bowed his head pleasantly. "You're always my good luck charm, huh? Come to my games often,"

"As if," you huffed, but not completely opposed to it. Then, you got to the real deal. "Hey, what was that celebration for anyway?"

Jake simply shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face that told you he, in fact, meant something behind the celebration.

"What does that mean?"

"It's for you to figure out," he said vaguely, something sparked in his gaze. "Anyway, did you know this guy on campus is throwing a party? Wanna come?"

"You're going?" You did hear of this party from one of your school mates, apparently that guy was a king at throwing parties and nobody misses it.

"Yeah, one of my friends invited me so I wondered if you're coming too. Are you?"

"I think so?" You said with uncertainty.

"I can pick you up if you want to?"

"I'd love that,"

"Sweet," Jake nodded, clapping his hand. "Is this a date—"

"Would you count this as a date—"

Both of you froze, realising you were sharing the same thoughts, and most likely the same feelings. A sense of pining filled the air between you two that you were oblivious to. You and Jake bursted out laughing at the silly occurrence.

"Maybe," you were the first to answer the question, a little shy.

"I would love to bring you out on a proper date though,"

"What about … some time after the party?"

"I'll be glad to do so," Jake scratched the back of his neck, a red tinge coloured the tip of his ears. "So—uhm—this party date—more than friends or…?"

"Woah, maybe that's a big jump there," you didn't expect him to suddenly be so bold. "How about we take this one step at a time? Test the waters and what not,"

"Good idea," he smiled before hearing his teammates calling for him from afar. "Shit, I think I need to go freshen up,"

"It's alright, you've had a long day anyway, you should get some rest,"

"I will, I'll take a long, hot shower while I'm at it,"

"You should," you giggled, a small grin tugged at your lips at how endearing he was. "I'll go now, text me and we'll discuss the plans for the party, okay? You were amazing, Jake, I love seeing you play," you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek, rendering him speechless.

"Bye," you said innocently, waving at him as you left and all he did was stare back with a dazed look while waving.

You chuckled a little. Despite the slight glitch in the relationship, somehow you managed to get back to him. All it took for the watered down feelings was a little push from him and yourself.

"YOU'RE ON TIME,"

Evening soon arrived and it was finally time for the party. You were dressed casually and you didn't regret any part of it. Jake had opened the door for you, quirking his eyebrow at your words as he leaned against his car.

"I'm always on time,"

"Sure," you said sarcastically as you entered the car, adjusting around in your seat.

The moment Jake got into the car and revved it to a start, he switched the radio on, and a specific song started playing. Your favourite song.

"This song?" You exclaimed, a small joy erupted in you.

"It's your favourite," Jake hummed, smiling slightly.

"You remembered?"

“How could I not?”

Those simple words somehow had a big effect on you, after all those years he still remembered the small things about you, not many were able to do that.

The rest of the journey there was just casual chatter, flowing naturally like how it usually did when you were younger. You talked about your favourite things while Jake just listened, giving you his full attention and you were completely unaware of him smiling at your passionate rants.

Upon arriving at some house in a rich neighbourhood, you were already fascinated by the big yard space where a couple people were smoking. You heard the music blasting from inside the house and shared a look with Jake that totally conveyed 'let's get drunk'. He opened the door for you and the led lights blinded your sight momentarily.

Jake was immediately bombarded by a bunch of people, his reputation had skyrocketed overtime with his performance at the club, making him a well known person at the campus by now. Well, wasn't this awkward? You were squeezed to a side, unable to reach your date and standing alone, so all you could do was nod towards the drinks to let him know you would be there.

Filling your cup with some random alcoholic concoction sadly wasn't what you anticipated for tonight. As time passed, Jake was nowhere to be seen, having to send him million texts but getting no response from him. You managed to locate your friends and joined them for the rest of the night.

"I thought you came here with Jake?" One of your friends, Carla, asked, passing you some snacks.

"I did," you shoved the snack into your mouth rather aggressively. "He disappeared on me,"

"That's such a dick move!" She made a sour face, and honestly, you had to agree with her.

You soon excused yourself from your friends, exploring around the house to find a bathroom that wasn't locked or occupied, which was a big challenge. Going up and down stairs, in and out of rooms had you desperate, so once you saw a bathroom door left ajar, you did the stupidest thing by opening it.

Stupid it was, foolish you were.

The sight before you probably had you wanting to vomit out your breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was Jake, but he wasn't alone, he was with another girl, pressed against each other, making out. At least they weren't doing more that would possibly traumatise you further … right?

"Y/N?"

You snapped out of your dazed state once you heard your name. Suddenly your need to use the bathroom had disappeared and you just wanted to leave.

"I—uh—ignore me!"

You turned around and bolted faster than your normal running speed in training. As you walked, you tried collecting yourself emotionally and mentally. You shouldn't be feeling this, whatever this sickening and punching feeling was, but you were.

How could this turn sour so fast?

He was just talking about trying to move your relationship from just friends to more than that, but instead, he's here making out with some girl in a bathroom? The audacity.

"Y/N! Where are you going?"

Unbeknownst to you, he was actually following you this whole time. Almost like a switch, your confused emotions turned into frustration.

"Jake, stop,"

He reeked of alcohol, words slurring and eyes dazed, confused. Your eyes met his gaze, sighing deeply and wishing for the night to be over already.

"What—"

"I'm leaving, okay? I didn't come here for you to ditch me and make out with some chick you just met, alright?"

"I'm sorry," Jake mumbled, biting his lips. "I'll take you home,"

"You're drunk, Jake," you said, crossing your arms. "I'll drive,"

The tension in the car was heavily off. You were driving back to his apartment, having no choice but to make yourself a guest there overnight since it was too late into the night for any cabs to drive you back. Just great.

"I didn't mean to kiss her. I was just drunk," he suddenly spoke from the backseat, his words heavy and slurred.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you should know. I hate misunderstandings,"

"We're not dating anyway, Jake, you don't need to explain it to me," your words came out harsher than expected, but wasn't reality harsh anyway?

"I am serious about you, Y/N,"

You blinked, muttering a few curses under your breath. Why was he so confusing? "You're drunk," you repeated, your grip on the steering wheel only tightened. "Think about this tomorrow instead, okay?"

Jake mumbled something incoherent before drifting off to sleep, leaving you to your own thoughts that continuously pestered you. Feelings were confusing, especially when it comes to your childhood best friend.

Getting him up to his apartment with the help of the security guard was strenuous work. He owed you more than an apology at this rate. Dumping him into bed and helping him out of his shoes almost had your back cracked in half, eventually you ended up falling into the couch and fell asleep at once. The physical work and emotional confusion were tiring.

Morning came sooner than expected, twisting and turning around, not wanting to get up, but realisation soon hit when you came to your senses. It wasn't the couch you're sleeping on anymore, it was a bed, Jake's bed.

Your eyes snapped open, feeling the soft sheets around you, but no one was there. Where was he?

You carefully stepped out of bed, wandered out into his living room that you were previously sleeping in and saw his figure on the couch, watching some television program. Messy bed hair and a coffee in hand, Jake somehow seemed magically cured from the curse of being hungover.

"You're awake?"

"I should be more surprised that you're awake instead," you sat down next to him, making sure to leave a gap in between.

"There's coffee, help yourself," he nodded over at the other cup of coffee he bought. "What happened last night?"

You glanced over at him, furrowed eyebrows mirroring the frustration in his eyes. "You don't remember?"

"No," he shook his head, rubbing his temples. "I got whisked away by this group of guys, I drank and drank, then I remembered some girl?"

"Oh,"

"What does that look on your face mean?"

"Jake, you made out with that girl,"

"What—"

"And I walked in on you two,"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jake rubbed his face callously, groaning deeply, head falling back onto the headrest. "I'm so sorry you had to see that,"

"It's fine,"

"It isn't fine. I kissed someone in front of you when I literally told you I wanted to bring you out on a date before," he buried his face into his hands. "I'm so stupid for this,"

"Hey, it's really fine, genuinely" you grabbed his hands, pulling them away. "I'm not mad—" admittedly, you were slightly hurt, "—honestly, it's not like we're actually together, right? We're not dating anyway, you're free to be with whoever you want. I have no control over you," you tried forcing out a small laugh to lessen the tension, but you only felt like dying instead.

"Right," Jake said, mirroring your laughter stiffly, his gaze falling to the ground. "We're not dating anyway."

"YOU WHAT?"

Training has been torturous. The new season was starting in the next few days, which meant the intensity only got higher, at the same time, your stress was equally skyrocketing. It was a few days since the incident with Jake and unfortunately, you haven’t spoken since. Anxiety gnawed at you, but neither you nor him dared to even make the first move of approaching one another.

Training sessions weren't what it was without some gossip and storytelling either, and you certainly didn't leave out what happened with Jake.

"You slept over at his place after you saw him kiss another girl?" Alexia gasped, smacking your arm.

"That's hella scandalous," Natalia hissed as she did her stretching routine.

"I said ‘we're not dating anyway’, could you believe that?" You huffed, unable to focus on your own routine.

"Wow," both of your teammates said in unison, and that only made you shrink further into your small hole of wallow.

"Was it too far?"

"I admit I do feel bad for the man having to hear that," Alexia shrugged.

"But he did do what he did," Natalia continued, a slight frown etched on her face.

“We haven’t talked since,” you stopped stretching, sitting with a saddened expression. “Do you think he hates me?”

“Hate you?” Alexia exclaimed incredulously, staring at you as if you’ve done some massive crime. “Y/N, that man likes you! Neither you nor him can see that, you guys are dumbasses,”

“He likes me?”

“Who dedicates their first goal to someone they hate? He likes you, period. There’s no way he dedicated a goal and a celebration meaninglessly,”

“Well…maybe he did it as an express of gratitude, you know, as friends,”

“God, you’re so blind.”

The short span of time in between the days from the first league game passed by quickly, fast forwarding to you sitting in the changing rooms, anxiously waiting for the game to start while you checked your phone for notifications. A fraction of you hoped for Jake to send a surprise message, at least giving some support for your first game of the season, but it just never came.

Disappointed you were indeed, but you weren’t letting it get to you and affect your performance, which only meant keeping on a brave face for the rest of the day. As you walked onto the pitch, your eyes automatically scanned the stands, spotting some of your friends from campus among the crowd. You waved at them, your anxiety lessening but somehow a specific someone stayed lingering in the back of your mind.

The whistle blew and off you went chasing after the ball for hopes of a goal. Everything was flowing smoothly, leading early in the first half and you were able to cool some steam off momentarily, glancing around once more. That’s when you noticed a figure in the front of the stands moving towards a seat. That person was oddly familiar, having to squint your eyes and run a little closer, you realised it was Jake.

You know those cliche moments described in romantic films where time stops and your breath stops? You didn’t believe those descriptions initially, until you actually experienced it firsthand. Right at that moment.

You didn’t have many chances of focusing on him, constantly needing to remind yourself that you were in the middle of a game and you weren’t letting a man deter you from the victory in front of you. He resembled a bright sun that stood out among the crowd, shining brightly but instead of looking away, you couldn’t bear but to stare.

The game ended in Barcelona’s favour, resulting in a great and high atmosphere, fans cheering loudly and everyone celebrating the first win of the season. All of your teammates made sure to go around the pitch to interact with fans and thank them, just post game basics. You did the same, except you couldn’t resist walking up to Jake’s side of the stand, spotting him at once and he happened to see your figure approaching, waving at you with a small smile.

“Hey!” you shouted, almost breathlessly, a wide smile unknowing creeping onto your face. “You came,”

His eyes sparked once it landed on you. “Surprise?”

“You didn’t tell me you’re coming today,”

Jake leaned on the barriers separating you two, his playful grin reciprocating your smile. “It’s a surprise for a reason,”

“Well, I am definitely surprised,”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, biting on his bottom lip, seemingly contemplating his next words carefully. “You played great today, congrats on the win,”

“Thank you,”

“You’ve always been amazing, Y/N, seeing you play for the first time in Barcelona made me so proud,”

Your heart swelled, hearing his words only made you go increasingly crazy. He can’t just show up, say the most simple sentences and make your feelings haywired! Then it hit you, realisation.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,”

“Likewise,”

“I’m really grateful for you, Y/N, genuinely,”

“Oh, Jake,” you reached over the barrier, tip toeing slightly and pulled the man before you into a hug, feeling him press a kiss on the side of your head. Were you really only friends with him?

Realisation. A full, concrete, affirmative realisation.

You like him. Sim Jae Yun.

jakey: up for a party?

you: you’re looking to get drunk again?

jakey: no! >:( my friend’s from our old uni are coming over to visit and celebrate one of their birthdays! i’m pretty sure you’ve met them before

you: the hockey players? and yunjin? them right?

jakey: yup

you: count me in

SOMEHOW YOU’VE MANAGED YOURSELF AN INVITE AS JAKE'S PLUS ONE.

You’ve met Jake’s friends before back in your hometown. He had a variety of friends from the football team who happened to be jocks, and then there’s the hockey friends. Jake was closer to the hockey bunch, and you didn’t blame him for that, especially after having your own experiences with his then team.

So, here you were, in Jake’s car, heading towards the club specially booked by Jake’s rich friend, Jay. Why a club? Apparently they liked partying. The hockey players were truly built differently.

“You’re saying he booked the expensive room?” you blinked in shock, mouth hanging open. “Private rooms?”

“Yeah, he said he loves Barcelona and the clubs here, so he’s going all out,” Jake said nonchalantly, as if this was a daily occurrence that wasn’t surprising in any way.

“Can you give me his numb—”

“Absolutely not.”

The club was just like any other big club in the city. Flashing lights, pretty people and over the top atmosphere, it was such a great vibe. You wished you had more chances of partying but frankly, none of your friends were big party goers, you included.

Jake made sure to have you in front of him, his hand on your back guiding you slowly through the crowd towards the private room. He had given you a brief introduction of his friends to you previously during the drive here. You knew how his friends looked, being able to match faces to their names, but there was nothing you knew beyond that.

Entering a room filled with people you're not close with makes your skin crawl, but Jake's friends proved otherwise, welcoming you at first glance. The hockey guys, Jay, Heeseung and Sunghoon along with Yunjin were there with their own plus ones. Every one of them were split into their own small groups, but you stuck to Jake, speaking to Yunjin and her date.

Jake was focused on whatever topic Yunjin's date was spewing, so Yunjin had you all to herself. "You and Jake?" She whispered quietly, so that it was only between you and her. Her eyebrows wavered, a knowing grin plastered on.

You simply shrugged, not trying to be lowkey but in actuality, you really didn't know. "Nothing's official,"

"Yet?"

"I don't know?"

"He hasn't asked you out on a date?" Yunjin gasped, eyes widened.

"Nope, unless you count some random frat party where he left me hanging,"

"Oh God," she heaved a deep breath. "He's got a lot to do, but other than that, I'm pretty sure it's already settled,"

Your head tilted at her choice of words. "What do you mean settled?"

"He likes you, you like him! That's already settled,"

"What?"

"Y/N! Can't you tell how head over heels that boy is? You know he wouldn't shut up about you all these years, right? Even when you two were apart,"

"When we were apart?"

Yunjin chuckled, unable to hold back her smile of endearment. "He always told us about you, how he wants us to meet you and all that. When he went to Germany, we kept in contact, even visited him. I remembered clearly how he said he missed you, he wouldn't shut up about you, I'm serious,"

All those times you thought he had forgotten about you or not even given you a single thought, it was actually the opposite. As much as you have kept him in your thoughts, he has equally been doing the same.

"Give it a thought, Y/N, give him a thought," Yunjin patted your shoulder, giving you a smile of assurance.

Everyone eventually left the room in search of the bar and dance floor, you and Jake following behind. Along the way, he continued keeping his hand around you, not letting you go.

"You okay?" He passed you your drink, his eyes searching for yours in the dim lights.

"I'm alright, don't worry," you gave his arm a small squeeze of reassurance.

Most of the guys and Yunjin had already taken off into the dancefloor with their partners, leaving you and Jake by the bar alone. Yunjin's words from earlier still rang freshly in your mind, it was all you could think of whenever you stole glances of Jake.

"What are you thinking about?" He seemed to have caught on your strange behaviour and you resembled a deer caught in headlights at the sudden confrontation.

"Nothing," you shook your head, lying through your teeth. You were thinking about something, someone actually. Him.

"Really?"

"Really," you enunciated, thinking of a way to switch the topics. "So, why aren't you out there dancing?"

"I wanted to be here with you,"

That got you there. His words never failed to have you kicking your feet and giggling.

"You could be out there—I don't know—dancing with someone else,"

"I'd choose you over that 'someone else'," he calmly took a sip out of his drink, his gaze never leaving yours. "In a heartbeat,"

You swore you could feel yourself flushing red, heat creeping up your neck to your face, the room suddenly seemed like it was spinning. "You can't just say things like that,"

Jake grinned, a playful look displayed on that charming face of his. "What? It's the truth!"

“You’re annoying” you jokingly punched his shoulder, downing your drink almost at once, it surely did help calm your nerves, but not your racing heart.

Your conversation with Jake soon dissolved when the others came back from the dance floor, all sweaty and craving for drinks, huddled around the bar ordering one by one before returning back to the room for a karaoke session. The overwhelming atmosphere had you excusing yourself to the restrooms, and you ended up giving a pep talk into the mirror as you fixed your makeup.

Jake liked you? The fact itself was hard to grasp. You couldn’t even swallow and accept that you had actual feelings for him, your childhood best friend, the one you experienced many embarrassing, happy and sad moments with, the same guy who believed in you more than anyone else. He wasn’t just a friend to you anymore, he was someone you wished for more with.

Exiting the restroom with a heavy heart and question marks filled mind, you just needed a drink to pour your feelings into. You were making your way back to the room with a drink in hand now that everyone was done dancing, but before you could turn a corner, you heard voices and immediately stopped in your tracks. Hushed whispers that were clear and audible even with the music in the background filled the empty corridor. It didn’t take long to piece the voices of Jake and Heeseung.

“So…what’s going on between you and Y/N?”

Your eyebrows quirked up at the mention of your name. Could this be it? Was Jake going to spill an answer you’ve been dying for? Let’s make this clear, you didn’t like overhearing other people’s business, but your current situation was a little hard for you to just walk boldly into the corridor, not when your curiosity got the best of you.

“What do you mean?”

“What? You and Y/N, man, come on. There’s no way you don’t have feelings for her. You’ve been together since the time we met years back, and even further before we met, and you’ve never stopped talking about her, ever,”

“I–I don’t know, it’s complicated. We’re just friends,”

“Jake, are you serious?”

“I’ve never felt this way before, Hee,” Jake’s voice wavered, seemingly distressed. “I can’t have a relationship now, I’m just starting out and I don’t want to get distracted,”

“Jake, are you listening to yourself? Since when was Y/N a distraction to you? And you didn’t seem to care whenever you went out partying in Germany,”

“Look, Hee, maybe I just want to focus on my career for now,”

“Is that why you barely made the effort to talk to Y/N back in Germany?” Heeseung hissed, frustration evident in his tone. “Your lame excuses, were you just scared or in denial of your feelings?”

“Stop. I don't know if I like her like that. Fuck, I–I don't know, okay?”

“Y/N?” you whipped your head around, meeting the brown irises of Park Sunghoon, who was just returning from the restrooms as well. Perfect timing indeed. You were so busted.

Internally, you were panicking like crazy, heart beating in anxiety and your blood pumping insanely. You could feel three pairs of eyes staring at you, each one held different emotions. Heeseung and Jake stood frozen in their spots, their faces matching each other’s surprise, whereas Sunghoon remained confused.

You met Jake’s gaze, one filled with utmost guilt and sadness, but yours could only reflect anger and bewilderment. You didn’t bother waiting another second before storming away, only feeling suffocated by each of Jake’s words that stung just like a fresh wound. This was another night ruined by the man you liked, and you’re about to go home with a new broken heart. But you were the idiot here after all, willingly letting him break your heart in two, and once it healed, it’d beat for him again, because you would always go back to him.

The moment you reached the outside of the club, you realised how fucked you were without a ride, having no choice but to wake your roommate to pick you up. You wondered how you landed yourself in this position, standing stranded in front of a club, blinking away the oncoming tears and just needing a hug of comfort.

“Y/N!”

Jake’s voice reached your ears, and soon, you were face to face with him. Wow, speaking of deja vu, this only reminded you of the unfortunate night you had with him, both ending sour.

“I have nothing to say to you, Jake,”

“Hear me out—”

“Fuck off,”

“Please,”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You're really confusing, you know? One second you say some shit that gets my hopes up and my heart racing, then the next second you decide to crush everything! Make up your mind. I'm not someone for you to play around,”

“I’m not trying to play you!”

“Oh right? You said you wanted to start slow and bring me out on a proper date, then you're out here declaring you don't like me. Well, asshole, I like you!"

"What?"

You cursed at yourself and your bluntness, blinking harshly as you swallowed the lump building in your throat. "Forget it, forget whatever I said,"

“I do have feelings for you too, you know that!”

"No, no, no, you don't get to suddenly decide that, Jake, not after what you just said," you backed away from him, shaking your head incredulously. Hell, you were confused about your feelings, but Jake was miles worse. “You need to sort yourself out first before telling me you like me or not, you can’t just say that and then say you don’t know behind my back,”

“I know, God, I’m sorry,” he was a mess, a beautiful mess in creation.

Silence befall on you both, the tension was killing you and you hated it. You didn’t want him to be a stranger, but you can’t bear being around him right now. Your eyes could only reflect disappointment and sadness as your gaze swept his face.

“You once said I changed, but you know what, Jake? Maybe it's you who's changed,” you spat every word out angrily, a mix of emotions overflowing. “I feel dumb for liking you,”

“Really? Do you regret it?” somehow, the two of you were equally mad now, the sadness turned into unresolved anger, showing the ugly side that neither you nor him have seen of each other before.

You swallowed, knowing damn well the answer that was going to leave your lips. “The worst part is that I don’t,”

Jake’s lips quivered, his eyes searching for anything but yours, unable to meet your eyes or even directly face you. “It has always been you. You’ve always been my number one,”

His words stung hard, harder than the times you’ve scraped your knees against hard surfaces, it hurt you, just as much as it did to him just from uttering those sentences. If this was what love was supposed to be like, you want nothing about it.

“Go home, Jake. I'll see you soon.”

CRYING ON THE WAY HOME IN ALEXIA'S CAR WASN'T A PERFECT end to the supposed enjoyable night you wished to have. It took five different rom coms, one tub of ice cream and lots of girls talk to get you out of your slump.

During the first few days since the incident, you did receive text messages from Jake, apologetic ones that were almost written like essays. But you couldn't bring a single ounce of you to reply back to him, leaving him on ‘delivered’ and switching your phone off.

Just when you thought the storm had calmed, you were proven wrong once more.

"You've got to see this,"

On a morning not far from a prestigious award ceremony you were bound to attend in France, a controversy broke out, one that involved you in it, specifically, you and Jake.

'BARCELONA'S YOUNG STARS CAUGHT IN A HEATED FIGHT OUTSIDE OF NIGHTCLUB IN THE CITY'

You've got to be kidding.

The comments were the first thing you avoided, scrolling past to see blurred pictures taken of your altercation with Jake. Talk about double embarrassment.

"No way they got this on camera," Natalia gasped, but Alexia snatched the phone from her grasp and switched it off.

"It'll pass, don't worry, Y/N."

Eventually, the day of the awards ceremony had arrived, you and your fellow nominees from Barcelona, Jake included, travelled to France together on a private plane.

It was awkward to say the least. Avoiding one another, not making eye contact or even acknowledging each other's presence. The others were making sure to seem unfazed by this despite reading the news themselves, but what could they do? All they wanted was calm and serenity.

You were partnered up with a player from the men's team, Alejandro, who will be your date for the night. You didn't mind having him as your date, just wishing to get the whole thing done as soon as you could.

"You're not planning to talk it out with him?" Alexia said as she helped fix your makeup, dresses laid on the bed and heels strewn all over the floor.

"What do I even say? 'Oh, I like you, yeah I said that already. But you don't like me—wait—you don't know!' Boohoo,"

"Y/N,"

You let out a deep sigh, getting up once Alexia finished her last touch ups. "Look, his confusion isn't something for me to deal with, you know. Either he makes up his mind and is ready for me, or he'll just never get me, that's it."

On the other side of the hotel room and specifically the floor below yours, presented the men's rooms. Jake happened to be getting ready along with his teammate and roommate, Mateo.

They were on the conversation of their assigned dates when Mateo's mind suddenly struck a thought. He didn't know if it was the right time to ask, but his mouth couldn't help slipping.

“Jake,”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to apologise?”

Mateo didn't even need to mention any names and Jake already knew what he meant.

“Why?”

“I just—I don't know—I don't like how you guys are fighting,”

“You're sweet, Mat, but she's probably too angry to even see me now anyway, I fucked up big time,”

“But do you want to apologise?”

“Of course I do! That's a no brainer. I just don't wish to fuck it up again,”

“You won't,” Mateo patted Jake’s shoulder sympathetically, both plopping down on the edge of the bed. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Well—”

“Not in a platonic way, but in a romantic way,”

“I do,” almost instantly, those words left his lips without any hesitation.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“Myself,” he groaned, rubbing the side of his face agonisingly. “I’m scared, Mat, I’m scared of ruining what we have,”

“Jake, you shouldn’t let your fears overcome you, or stop you from professing your love either,” Mateo sighed, wrapping his arm around the latter’s shoulder. “Y/N likes you, dumbass, there’s nothing to ruin. Instead, she’s probably thinking you hate her for not giving her a clear green light,”

“I know,”

“Talk to her. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but soon. The longer you drag this on, it would just create a distance.”

The evening eventually faded into bright lights and speeches, you and the others sitting among the crowd of distinguished footballers from different parts of the world. You couldn’t lie, it was hard keeping your eyes away from Jake when he was looking absolutely gorgeous. Hair slicked back, dressed in a sleek black suit paired with an expensive tie, he had your knees weak when you were supposed to be mad.

His gaze on you definitely didn’t go unnoticed either, taking the sight of you in and your attire for the night, a certain unspoken longing for one another hung in the air.

It was towards the end of the night when you excused yourself to the restrooms, your usual escape plan. Exiting the theatre hall and getting to wander around the exquisite area gave you a slight peace of mind, it wasn’t everyday you got the chance to be in France anyway. But disaster just had to strike and ruin your brief tranquillity.

As you descended the stairs, you heard a snap, almost missing your balance, and you knew at once, your heel had taken an unfortunate turn of life. Glancing down at your heel, it indeed had snapped and was broken, and you had the misfortune of not having any super glue on you.

You tried taking a step, stupid mistake. The imbalance of your heels made you stumble, and just when you were ready to meet your fate of face planting into the expensive marble floors, a hand gripped your forearm.

“Hey, you okay?”

It didn’t take much for you to realise that voice belonged to Jake, who was also holding onto your arm. You coughed, regaining your balance and swiftly yanked your arm from his hold. Jake took a step back, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“I’m fine,” you said hastily, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. “Were you following me?”

“No!” he exclaimed, his hand travelling to the back of his neck, looking away from you. He was lying, you could see right through him. “Well—I—we saw you rushing out, so we just wanted to check up on you,”

“Right,” you nodded, biting your lips softly as you held in a small laugh at his blatant lie. “Tell the others I’m alright, I just wanted a stroll, but my heel broke,”

“Oh,” Jake’s gaze averted to the sight of your depressing heels. “I’ll let your manager know, I’m pretty sure they can get something else for you,”

“I’d really appreciate that,”

“Okay,” Jake smiled slightly, nodding also, his body turning to leave but halted midway. “I never got to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight,”

You practically stilled momentarily, letting his words work its magic on you. In that moment, it felt as if the world had stopped and everyone had disappeared, and it was just you two, alone and vulnerable. Soon, you snapped back to reality, swallowing thickly.

“Thank you, you look great too,”

He said nothing more, merely giving you one last friendly smile before turning away and continuing his way back to the theatre, leaving you to long for him, sadness welling up your heart and your eyes turned heavy. You wished he would run back to you now, telling you how sorry he was, whatever, you just needed him. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Cruel, hard reality reminded you that maybe this was probably one sided after all.

You were over exhausted by the time you returned back to the hotel, the group was now scattered and everyone was either on their own or lingering somewhere else at the afterparty. At that moment, the pop of notification on your phone caught your attention, it was a message from Natalia.

nat: meet me at my room! i have something for you ;)

Suspicions crept up internally, that winking emoji practically told you this wasn’t what it seemed. But you went either way, still dressed in your gown and sporting a pair of comfortable slippers, trudging along the halls of the hotel towards Natalia’s room.

Three knocks was all it took for you to realise the room was unlocked, pushing it open and revealing a clean and spotless room, which was so Natalia. As for a sign of any human being in the room, there was actually none. Initially, you thought of something bad happening, lowkey panicked and rang up Natalia, only to realise a particular thing. Natalia was at the after party.

“Hello?”

You whipped your head towards the source of the voice, freezing at once when you saw who it was. The universe must be setting you up for further embarrassment at this point. Jake was standing in front of you, confused and lost.

“Where’s Natalia?”

“I would want to ask the same question too,” you glanced around the room helplessly. “She isn’t here. Did she text you?”

“She did,”

“Jake,” you started, walking to the door, a sinking feeling inside of you as you hoped whatever you were currently thinking wasn’t actually true. “Did you shut the door?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you realise we’re stuck in here now? We don’t have the keycard,”

The confusion on Jake’s face morphed into shock and horror, approaching the door and giving it a yank, but it was obviously not working. “This is ridiculous,” he groaned under his breath.

“Forget it, it’s already done,” you kicked your slippers off and made yourself comfortable on the bed, your back connecting to the soft covers and almost drifting off to sleep.

Jake could only nod solemnly, sitting down on the other bed wordlessly. It didn’t take long for the uncomfortable silence to settle, both of you wanting to talk but having zero courage to even do so. You were hopeless and he was just the same.

"We should talk,"

You glanced over at his figure, slowly sitting up, a wary look painted your expressions. "About?"

"About us,"

You gulped, hating the thought of confrontations, but what you hated more was being a stranger with Jake. It pained you having to ignore him or pretend his existence wasn't there.

“What’s there to us? You broke my heart, Jake, and it hurts like a bitch. I heard you clearly in the club that night, and I don’t think I can forget it easily,” you sucked a breath in, being on the edge of combustion. “You know what? If the possibility of us being together is a distraction for you, then fine, forget I ever said I like you, then we can go on like nothing—”

“I don’t want to forget it,” he murmured, eyes flickering. “I don’t want to forget you or your words,”

A pause.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I shouldn't have treated you like that, I was a massive asshole,"

"You were,"

"I'm really sorry, for hurting you and causing you so much pain," Jake was fidgeting with his fingers, averting his gaze once in a while. “What I said in the club was stupid, it was immature. I wasn’t clear with my feelings then and I could only figure shit out after, I'm just scared of ruining what we have. I don't want to lose you if anything goes south, I don't want to lose you as a friend and a lover,”

"Jake," you began, eyebrows furrowed as your bottled up confusion and frustration slowly crept up. "You won't, your fears are only driving us apart, can't you see that? I–I just don't get you. Do you even like me? Or do you just say you do but you actually don't?"

"I do like you," his tone came out harsh, as though he had been holding it in forever and only getting the bottled up feelings out now.

"Then show me," your eyes pleading and his apologetic. "Show me that you want me, that you actually do. No second guessing or anything. I need you to need me back,"

“I do need you,” he said quietly under his breath, the tension in the room was absolutely cut throat. “I’ll do anything to gain your trust back,” he got up from his spot and walked over to your side, sitting next to you, barely any space between you and him as your shoulders grazed against each other. “I could give you the world if I had to,”

You turned your head and met Jake’s eyes at once, the wordless exchange through one another’s gazes was enough to express the amount of longing and pining harboured. You could feel his fingertips softly brushed against yours, sending slight electric shock into your system.

“I like you. I like you. I like you,” those three words were poured out like a mantra, causing you to still momentarily, a frown etched onto your scrunched expressions. “I’ve liked you since forever, but I never came to terms with it. At one point, I wanted to tell you … but you moved away. I thought if I could do it all again, I would go back to you and tell you how I feel,”

“Those years when you were gone, I kept thinking about you, I wanted to hold you when I'm not supposed to, I wanted you close—I want you,"

Your breath hitched.

"I couldn’t get you out of my head, you were all I could ever think of, everywhere I went, anyone I met, I saw a part of you in them, you were occupying my head, I can’t stop, and it’s because of how in love I am with you,”

Love. Not like, but love.

“Then don’t stop,” you said breathlessly, chest heaving heavily. “Don’t stop thinking about me, don’t stop letting me take over your head, don’t stop being in love me, ‘cause I never did. I’ve always loved you,”

Longing and yearning clung onto you and Jake desperately. The space between you two was getting smaller, the need for one another pulling one another together. The outpour of love confessions had you and him both speechless for a while, taking some time to process it all entirely. You loved him, he loved you.

Jake shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I can’t believe it took me all these years to realise my true feelings, I’m sorry for realising it too late,”

“You’re never too late,”

Before any of you could get further progress, the door burst open and revealed a drunken Natalia being supported by her roommate. You and Jake instinctively scooted apart from each other, pretending nothing was happening as you faced a confused roommate and a giggly Natalia.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Natalia sent us text messages saying she wanted to meet us here, but she wasn’t and we got locked in,”

Her roommate, Chelsea, nodded, dumping Natalia onto the other bed. “She probably drunk texted you, sorry about that. Well, I need to take care of her so—”

“Oh,” you took the hint, standing up. “We’ll leave you to it. Goodnight,”

Jake followed you out awkwardly after bidding Chelsea goodbye. Once you were out of the room, you turned around and noticed Jake looking like a helpless puppy. “You’re going back?”

“Yeah, I need to freshen up,” he chuckled, smoothing the fronts of his suit.

“Me too,” gosh, the stiffness and awkward tension was eating you up. “Bye,”

“I’m serious about gaining your apology back, you know?”

You couldn’t even escape when those words suddenly poured out from Jake, catching you immensely off guard and having you rooted to your spot. “I’ll prove it to you, and I'll make it up to you,” he continued, backing away gradually with a knowing grin. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

You were incredibly unprepared for what he has up his sleeves.

“I KNOW YOU WERE THE ONE PLOTTING IT,”

Fun didn’t last long after arriving back from France as the team was put to immediate training sessions. A special training session this time at the club’s stadium. You and Jake didn’t speak much after that night in the hotel, especially when you went separate ways with individual training schedules now. But that wasn’t all. Your suspicions with Natalia remained and even though you’ve pestered her ages since then, she has never spilled anything, until this fateful session.

Her widened eyes stared at you, coughing uncomfortably as she masked obliviousness, but you could see through her instantly.

“Natalia,” you narrowed your gaze at the latter, who only shied away.

“I had that idea in mind…then I got drunk, and the alcohol controlled me to do stupid stuff like that,”

You rolled your eyes at her, passing the ball to her. “I’m not mad, by the way,”

“You’re not?”

“If I was, I would’ve been mad during the first few days, not now,”

“True,” Natalia shrugged, but you saw the playful spark in her gaze. “What did you do? Chelsea told me you two were … close,”

“We talked it out, nothing else,”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, your voice slightly higher than before.

The session was halted momentarily for some rest. Some were laying on the grassy surface, others scattered in groups either chatting or complaining about the hot weather. You were on the topic of dinner with your two roommates when the speakers suddenly made a shrill noise, causing everyone to flinch.

“What’s up with the audio?”

A cough was heard through the speakers in the next second, the sound reverberated through the stadium. Everyone including you were looking around in confusion, those on the ground resting had gotten to their feet. All of a sudden, a familiar song started to play, ‘Can’t Take My Eyes off You’, the same song you always played whenever Jake came over when you were kids.

“You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much…” The Australian accent was heavy and recognisable, which meant it could only be that certain someone running through your mind.

“Jake?” you muttered under your breath in disbelief, seeing his figure appearing amongst the stands, a microphone in hand. A soft smile unknowingly crept onto your face, laughing quietly at his ridiculous efforts.

It was just the same as the day he dedicated the goal to you. In a crowd full of people, his focus was trained only on you and nobody else, it was all you. His gaze never left your figure as the iconic instrumental part of the song played, and it reminded you of the days you sang this song in karaoke with Jake, screaming the lyrics and humming the instrumentals.

“I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright. I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night. I love you, baby, trust in me when I say—oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray,” he sang as he skipped down the steps of the stadium, getting closer to the front. Your teammates were passing you cheeky grins, some were even shoving you just like teenagers teasing their friends after seeing their crushes in the hallway. You yourself couldn’t even hold back a giddy look.

“Oh, pretty baby, now that I've found you, stay. And let me love you, baby, let me love you,” he extended his arm towards you, as if speaking these words just for you to hear. Before you could even accept his hand, your coach came right in time to stare at Jake, clearly unamused.

“Well, Mr Sim, what a performance that was,” Jonatan greeted Jake with a brief handshake. “Apologies for bursting your bubble but the training session is starting soon,”

Jake nodded, a pleased smile paraded on that face filled with confidence. “Got it. Sorry for interrupting. I’ll be leaving now then,” he peeked over your coach’s shoulder, waved and passed you one of his cheesy smiles before slipping away. When he was out of sight, Jonatan turned back and clapped his hands.

“Back to business!” he shouted, followed by loud unsatisfied grunts. Just as he was passing by, he made sure to whisper quietly and closely to you. “What a man you’ve got there, L/N.”

That totally had you blushing red.

It didn’t take long for training to end. You were about to text Jake about his whole stunt but then you realised you didn’t need to do so, because he was standing directly in front of you at the carpark.

“Need a ride?” You didn’t drive, usually carpooling with the girls back to the apartment, but this might have to be an exception.

Jake was leaning against his car, a grin stretched wide. You approached him with a curious gaze, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. “You’re still here?”

He nodded. “I thought I’ll just drop you home since I’m here anyway,”

“I’ll take your offer up,”

Jake even made the effort to open the car door open for you, putting his hand above your head as you entered. The little things did matter to you. But the real question you’ve been waiting for an answer remained, and you were going to shoot.

“What was all that for?”

“What?” he sputtered distractedly as the car started, soon exiting the car park. “The performance, you mean?” a devious smirk appeared on that scheming face of his. “Did you like it?”

“Well, yeah—but that’s so not the point,”

“That is definitely the point,”

“It isn’t!” you laughed, throwing your head back slightly, making contact with the headrest. “Seriously, Sim, why did you go all out for that? You could’ve been in trouble,”

“Remember the movie you loved when we were younger?”

“Which one? There’s too many,”

“That 2000s movie, something ten things something hate?”

“‘10 Things I Hate About You’!”

“Yeah, that. The one you forced me to watch for millions of times,”

“Did not,”

“You did,” Jake rolled his eyes, a small smile remained. “I remembered how much you loved that thing where he sang the song to her, and it happened to be our song, so I thought it would be a great way to apologise,”

“That’s sweet, Jake, really,”

“That’s not all,” He took a brief glance at you, letting the anticipation of his words sink in.“I’d like to take you out for dinner. I want to make it up to you,”

“You don’t have to,” your heart melted.

“I want to, seriously,” he said as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his face beaming. “You told me to prove myself to you, and that’s what I’m doing. I want to take you out on dates and show you how much I mean every way I feel. I’ll wait for an answer for as long as I can even if it’s a lifetime,”

“Jake,” you called out his name quietly, placing a hand on his forearm. He carefully took hold of your hand, slithering his palm against yours and entangled your fingers together. “You want to take me out on dates?”

“I’m taking it slow. I don’t want to fuck up again,”

“You won’t, swear,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently.

“I’ll pick you up tonight? Go rest and have a shower first, you stink,”

“Hey! I did shower before this,”

“You mean you lightly rinsed yourself?”

“Guilty.”

It has been ages since you’ve felt nervous before something. Being nervous for matches was nonexistent at this point, but going on your first date in years was stressing you out. Not to mention, it was a date with Jake. You were feverishly placing clothes and dresses on the front of your body as you looked into the mirror, taking hundreds of tries before settling for a new unworn black dress.

You were glad to be just on time when you heard the sound of your notification, indicating Jake’s arrival below your apartment complex. The jitters were undeniable once you’ve reached the ground floor and walked towards the area he was at. The clicks of your heels against the hard floor gave your presence away and had Jake turning around, his eyes landing directly on you. His strong gaze took your figure in, his lips lazily pulled a playful smirk.

“Wow,”

“‘Wow’?” you chuckled, greeting him with a brief hug. He was dressed impressively well, nothing too much but not too minimal either.

“You are ‘wow’,” he raised his eyebrows. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

A tinge of pink painted both of your cheeks lightly. Oh, you were so definitely and undeniably blushing from the effect of his words again. Damn him.

“Save the flirting for later, Sim,”

“So, you’re saying I can flirt however much I want with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go now or else we’ll miss reservations,” Jake loved your promptness, always and forever putting up with it, unable to resist a smile when he opened the car door for you, feeling the way his heart twists lovingly.

“Wait,” before he started the car, he reached to the backseat, reaching for something you couldn’t make out. That was until he pulled out a big bouquet of mixed flowers, one of every flower you loved. He remembered them all. “I got you flowers, and—” another bag of something, “—your favourite food and snacks. Some are from Germany, our hometown and even here,”

“No way, you got food from home?” you accepted his gifts way too enthusiastically. Your expressions lighting up immediately, legs shaking in anticipation as you went through the variety of snacks in the bag. All while it happened, Jake just remained silent, quietly watching you smile widely and eyes glinting brightly.

You looked up after a few moments, meeting his affectionate stare. “You’re staring!”

He shrugged, presenting you with a lopsided smile. “I love seeing you happy, sweets.”

You swore you almost fell onto the road when you saw how luxurious the place Jake had taken you to. The interior was exquisite and it had a nice ambience to it. A part of you was glad you had decided to dress up a little more than usual considering he had taken you to fine dining.

Throughout the entire journey there, you were sharing random stories with each other, bringing up old memories and even going on the topic of Jake’s dog. It all flowed naturally, just as how it always did, and that was something nobody else could take away from neither you nor Jake.

“Hi, ready to order?” the waitress soon came by, but you noticed something odd to her vibe. There it was, her lingering gaze on Jake. She likes him!

Never once had she spared you a single glance when you said your order, focusing only on Jake. Annoyance and irk weren’t enough to amount to the feelings you had in the moment, your mood sinking lower as you witnessed her attempting to flirt with him.

On the other hand, Jake was smart enough to catch onto the hint this time, actively avoiding her advances and rejecting her approaches, but it seemed she was the one who couldn’t take a hint. Just as you were ready to hand the menu over, little miss man stealer here batted her eyelashes and asked for Jake’s number. Hello? You were here too!

“I’m on a date here, can’t you see that?” he snapped, eventually reaching his own limits as well. “You’re disrespecting my girl and me,”

My girl, my girl, my girl.

That was spinning in your head even after Jake finished his small complaint, huffing and puffing in agitation. He was ready to face an unhappy face but it was actually quite the opposite. You were literally smiling giddily.

“What are you so happy for?” he couldn’t help laughing a little after seeing your smile, but you waved it off, shaking your head.

“It’s nothing, just thought of something,”

Jake nodded slowly, reaching over for your hand. “Sorry about earlier. I requested for a different waiter,”

“It’s fine, Jake, she was being totally unprofessional anyway,”

“Tell me about it, gosh,” he groaned, intertwining your hand with his, the spark in his eyes shining brighter. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight,”

“Me too,”

“Thanks for giving me a chance again,”

“Always.”

You’d go back to him any day, any time, and frankly, he would do just the same.

EVER SINCE THAT NIGHT WITH JAKE, THINGS HAVE BEEN TAKING QUICK ADVANCEMENTS.

He brought you out on countless dates, whether it was casual ones or planned, he made the utmost effort to perfect them all, giving you great princess treatment everytime. Your football matches were something he hated missing out on, almost having perfect attendance and frequently being in the stands cheering you on. All in all, he has been nothing but a sweetheart, healing your heart gradually as time passed.

Nothing felt forced whenever you were with him, every moment together made you the happiest, and you couldn’t stop smiling around him and his silly jokes. You liked him, wait, no. You loved him. But there was an ongoing problem, you weren’t even official yet.

Waiting for Jake to ‘pop the question’ was something you didn’t want to think or stress about, but it was a passing thought once in a while. You appreciated the fact that he had indeed taken it slow and took baby steps during the past months of going on dates, but you were getting impatient. You knew you were ready.

Maybe things were meant to be unexpected, and that was the beauty of it.

Jake picking you up from training sessions became a frequent routine by now, proceeding to his house for some movies and hot dinner. This time around, he had other plans in mind that made you scratch your head curiously.

“You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, totally laid back as if this wasn't something new. However, it was actually super new and foreign. You've been to his place lots and uncountable times, but staying over? That's new. “What’s wrong?”

"Nothing," you quickly assured. "I never stayed over, that's all,"

"You stayed over all the time when we're kids!"

"That's different. It's different now,"

Something glinted in those brown irises of his, realising what your words meant. "You're right. It is different."

The long training had you falling asleep right away when you got back, giving Jake the chance to pull another scheme right out of his sleeve. Unbeknownst to you, he had been planning this all along, finding a right time to execute it. He was going to pop the question, the boyfriend girlfriend question that you and him had been waiting for too long.

Jake was nervous. He wasn't even asking you to marry him, but it felt almost like it from the way he was pacing around in the other room while you were sound asleep peacefully. Calling take out and preparing a movie were the usual things you'd do whenever you were over at his, so he tried maintaining his cool and kept collected as he ran through the normal routine.

Peace wasn't an option when you woke up soon after, hearing your footsteps and hoping his heart would calm down quickly before it burst. You were freshening up in the bathroom, then he saw you approaching, a lazy smile greeting him. God, his heart was weak for you.

"Hey," your body fell into the couch right next to him, letting his arm naturally wrap around your shoulder. "What's for today's take out?"

"The usual, from your favourite place,"

"Stop, really?" You squealed in excitement, loving yourself some good food with an even better company. "What movie are we watching?"

"I know you've been dying to rewatch 'Pretty Woman', haven't you?"

"Maybe …"

"'Pretty Woman' it is then."

Everything seemed like how it always was, a movie playing in the background, the finished plates of food on the table, your head on Jake's shoulder, it was a normal day over at Jake's. Yet for him, it wasn't just a simple one this time around. He was going to finally say what he wanted to say, and he was going to be brave about it.

"Y/N, I've been meaning to ask you this—"

Your head snapped up from his shoulder, a look of worry written all over your face. "Is it about the last pizza slice you were saving?"

Jake blinked, being the one who's dumbfounded now. "What? Were you the one who ate it?"

"No?"

He rolled his eyes lightheartedly, reaching to pinch your cheek gently. "You're lucky I like you," this was the time, Jake, say it! "Which explains why I'm about to ask you this—" he turned his body to face you, took a hold of your hands, pulling you slightly closer to him.

"Let me be yours, Y/N. Can I be your boyfriend?"

Your momentary silence genuinely scared him a little, but the moment he saw your face lighting up with a wide cheesy grin, he knew that was it.

"Definitely—" you nodded almost too eagerly, your eyes wandering every part of his face, a swell of emotions erupted in the bottom pits of your abdomen. "—boyfriend,"

Upon hearing the word slipping from your lips, Jake couldn't get anymore giddy. "You're too cute. My girlfriend, my girl," he only got closer, inching towards you, his eyes occasionally flickering between you and your lips.

"Can I–I kiss you?"

At that moment, nothing felt real. The flashing lights from the television only made Jake's eyes gleam brighter in the dim room. You nodded, holding in your breath unknowingly. You were about to kiss Jake. Your boyfriend. Your best friend.

"I need words, sweets," he mumbled, one hand still holding onto you, the other already travelling up the side of your neck up to your face.

"Yeah, need you to kiss me,"

It didn't take Jake much more consideration after that, colliding his lips into yours electrifyingly, sealing unspoken desires and pent up frustrations, as if you and him had been waiting for this for too long. You reciprocated his desperation feverishly, the movie now completely out of sight and mind.

Jake was the first to pull away, both breathless and dazed, trying to catch his breath. You were most probably blushing, the dim light thankfully hiding it. Heart pumping heavily, feeling warm all over and a sense of excitement were overwhelming you suddenly, just from a kiss, which never happened before in the history of your love life.

"You're pretty, really pretty," his low voice brought you out of your brief trance, not realising how close he was to you and him observing your every feature. "Can I kiss you again?"

Something in you, probably the overflowing giddiness, brought out a light laugh from you, and being easily influenced by you, Jake started laughing too. The hand holding onto yours tugged you towards him, your body crashing into his, until you finally adjusted your body comfortably in his lap, you met his lips once more.

You could feel Jake grinning into the kiss, either of you breaking into small giggles here and there. The kiss was gentle this time, the love and affection from him were poured into his kiss, expressing something words aren't enough or able to.

"I can never resist you," you poked his chest lightly, your head now resting on Jake's shoulder just like before, your arms now wrapped around his torso, sitting in his lap and enjoying the intimacy.

"Of course you can't," he teased, earning a small punch to the shoulder from you. "I might need more kisses,"

"You're getting none,"

"You're so mean,"

"But you do love me for that, don't you?"

Jake wasn't able to resist an eye roll, tickling your side. "I do," his hand rubbing your back. "Hey, what do you think my mum would react after we tell them about us?"

"Is your mum going to kill me?"

"You're aware my mum loves you more than me, right? Her own child? She's going to be fine," he snorted, his fingers playing with your hair distractedly. "I'm really glad you're here with me now, genuinely. You've always been my strength, my number one, and I don't think I could even be here without you,"

"Jake…" you faltered, getting slightly emotional, the effect of his words getting to you again! " I'll literally kiss you again,"

"Really?"

"Later," you pushed your overly impatient boyfriend's face away, letting out a humorous laugh, only to face a pout from him after. "I'll always come back to you."

You knew heaven was a thing, you go there whenever you are with him. If this was what love felt like, maybe you would want it for a long time.

No matter how hard you tried to fight it, he would always make you feel things others wouldn't be able to. Even after breaking your heart, then healing it wholly, it somehow only beats for him, and in the end, you knew you'd go back to him, you'll always do.

taglist: @1800-beomgyu @yawnzshit @shinrjj @skzenhalove @taekwondoes @lalalalawon @ce1ight @enhacqke @winteringdream @strvlveera @rikisly @rikakhai @renchai @sievenderz @fariylixie0915 @enhastolemyheart @ckline35 @eulris @yenqa @jayfrvr @tobiosbbyghorl @liikno @vizstars @kells5595 @heesluvrgirl @thepencilkorner @hajimelvr @heeflrs @starriesworlds @aefolrin @s00buwu @star4rin (bolded = can't be tagged)

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eoieopda · 2 months

Text

FORCE QUIT // EPISODE III: SPIDER

somebody has to make sure you make it through the firefight alive.

pairing: lee minho x reader | series masterlist (3/4) | prev. episode series summary: it's 2077, and life's a fucking nightmare. corporate titans ate the state and shat it back out, leaving citizens of the new republic to fall in line, or fall to their knees. a reckoning is coming — where will you fall? au: series — dystopian, cyberpunk; episode — mutually-pining fuck buddies. ➢insp. by: cyberpunk 2077 + the true lives of the fabulous killjoys genre: smut + angst word count: 23.5k rating: 18+ — minors do not have my consent to interact. series warnings: violence (hand-to-hand, firearms, explosives), depictions of injuries (blood/bruising/burns), some characters have cybernetic modifications, class conflict + poverty, surprise - corporations are bad!, unethical medical/tech experimentation, self-indulgent references to non-skz idols, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns. episode: above + combat leader!minho, disabled!hacker!reader, pov switches, time skips, reader has a prosthetic/cybernetic leg, loss of limb due to injury (not depicted, minimally described), ref. to hospitalization + recovery, sunshine/storm cloud dynamic, minho is kind of a dick, depictions of combat violence, minor character death(s), unprotected p in v penetration. a/n 1: this part required a lot more external resources than anything else i’ve written, so i’ve kind of… footnoted? what i used. see the note at the end of the fic for the list! a/n 2: each episode features a different member x reader pairing, but the plot is linear, so you'd need to read them (in order) to get the full picture! you can sign up for the taglist to be notified of the next uploads. thank you to my beloved @sailoryooons for beta'ing this and @jihopesjoint for being my emotional support internet wife even though she doesn't stan skz. ily both endlessly!

Yours is the Black Screen’s worst kept secret.

The irony of that isn’t lost on you. Professionally, your most marketable skill is your ability to lower others’ defenses; to build and break walls as needed to take what you want for keeps. With finesse few can imitate, you vault over boundaries. Unfortunately for you, you don’t personally have any of those.

You’ve always been this way — no poker face, no affinity for bluffing, no discernible self-preservation instinct — and just the same, you’ve always wished you weren’t.

Time and again, your cards are on the table the second they’re dealt. If that alone wasn’t shitty gameplay, you and that relentless optimism of yours raise the stakes, double down. There’s no hesitating before you go all in; and there’s no surprise when you lose it all, either. Nothing you’ve ever felt has shocked anyone because they saw it coming in the previous turn.

Like Seungmin, for example, who won’t stop rolling his eyes at you from the other side of the room.

“If I took a shot every time you looked up at the door…” He sighs, gesturing from your corner of the Hub to its entrance, “I’d have died of alcohol poisoning six times over by now.”

The grimace you don’t want to concede can’t be hidden, so you rein your gaze in and direct it back at the screen in front of you. You don’t absorb any of the information flickering in front of you, however, because Seungmin has a point. Any second you haven’t spent staring wistfully out of the room is wasted on glancing at the clock.

It’s close to nine o’clock now, which means your not-so-secret distraction is due any minute.

That reminds me…

You check again, wondering how many minutes have passed since you last looked, only to learn that it’s been less than one. That’s when the reflex takes over. Without your permission, your eyes wander from the glowing, green digits on the wall to the door — just in case.

No dice.

Damn it.

In a feeble attempt to cover your chronic — terminal — hopefulness, you try to refocus on your work. All it takes is a few seconds of staring before your eyes glaze over again. That disinterest isn’t reflected in your rigid posture, though. Your brain may be a flat tire, but your body is a bow drawn back, ready to fire.

Anticipation is a hell of a drug, isn’t it?

Seungmin crosses his arms. From the corner of your eye, you can see the knowing look he shoots you. He may not speak his favorite words, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hear them, loud and clear.

Told you so.

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” he says instead.

You know better than to be thrown off by his trademark, flat affect. This is the most amused you’ve seen the weaponsmith in weeks. The corner of his mouth even twitches slightly; it might be the closest he’s ever been to smiling. “He only steps foot in here when you do.”

With all the heat you can muster, you aim to warn him — to puff out your chest a little, just this once — but it just sounds like a whine. “Seungmin…”

As if on cue, light footsteps sound off from down the hallway, shifting closer with every muffled step and cutting your would-be bickering off in the process.

Even with Seungmin’s judgment focused elsewhere, you continue to pretend that the glaring, blue light in front of your face has garnered any amount of your attention. It doesn’t. It hasn’t and won’t, so long as you can feel the seconds tick by in your chest.

He snorts. “Like clockwork.”

Damn it.

For being as light on his feet as he is, Minho tends to drag them more, the longer the day lasts. You never point that out to him; he doesn’t need to know that you’ve noticed. That fact sits among the million others you try to keep to yourself, just like your ability to identify him by gait alone.

Besides, you think, he’d never listen if you begged him to slow down, even if it’s just for a night. Rest doesn’t feature on the short list of things Minho wants from you. Come to think of it, neither does advice or concern for his well-being.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is,” Seungmin sings out when the shuffling stops short. “You lost, hyung?”

The way your head snaps up has nothing to do with Seungmin’s mocking tone and everything to do with the flutter in your chest. You’d attempt to keep that a secret, too, but then Minho walks in, and it’s game set.

He’s fatal with his tattered, grey t-shirt half-tucked into ripped, black denim; and you have to clench your jaw to keep it from dropping. Before your dry throat can choke you, you clear it, swallowing down the thought that Minho and his jagged edges are the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

It gets easier to get a fucking grip on yourself when Seungmin starts needling again: “No, seriously, are you lost? What are you doing here?”

Dark, cat eyes flick to you, then back to their target. Deadly, you think, just like the rest of him.

“Wishing you weren’t,” Minho responds without missing a beat.

As usual, his tone is carefully balanced between bored and annoyed. You suspect that’s purposeful. A tactic. It leaves listeners in the dark about his feelings, so they have to guess whether or not they should run.

Nine times out of ten, they guess wrong.

This time, Minho deigns to give a hint. It’s quick enough that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring. Thankfully, his target sees the microscopic flex of his eyebrow, too.

All that bark leaves Seungmin in a hurry, no bite to follow. With his tail between his legs and his palms raised in defeat, he skirts around Minho before slipping wordlessly out the door.

You frown slightly as you watch him flee, although you sure as shit won’t mind his absence.

“Seungmin’s harmless,” you remind Minho quietly, although you don’t know why you bother. He’s never felt threatened in his life, as far as you can tell. You don’t necessarily hate it when he flexes that fact in front of you, but that doesn’t mean he should. “You don’t need to scare him off.”

Minho crosses his arms and tilts his head in a way that makes you only the slightest bit insane. “I’m not scary,” he rebuts matter-of-factly, as if that’ll make it true.

You make the mistake of looking him in the eye then. Like it always does in moments like this, heat immediately rushes to your face like a backdraft.

Like he always does, Minho senses the spike in temperature. To crank it higher, he meanders his way across the room to you, eyes glittering impishly all the while. Your heart thuds harder with each footfall. Stupidly, you wonder if he can sense that, too.

“In fact, I’m offended,” he corrects you as he closes in.

His palms press down against the opposite side of your desk once he reaches it. This close, you can read the mischief scribbled all over his face, which only serves to tear you in two — equal parts fucked up by his assertiveness and the rare playfulness that only comes in flashes, only with you.

Minho looms over you now, his hardened stare softening just slightly. Whispering through what almost looks like a pout, he adds, “And you’re mean.”

For a second, you think that the hand inching its way across the tabletop is seeking yours. Anticipation makes your fingers twitch. Try as you might, you can’t think of a single fucking thing you want more than to slip them between his.

Proving once again that you’ll never read him right, Minho’s hand darts out to your side instead. You watch in slow-motion as he snags the bag of honey twists from its resting spot near your left forearm, which is nowhere near fast enough to catch him before he pulls away. Useless, your empty hand drops back onto your desk.

You stare longingly at the stolen packet, so dejected that you really could cry, and mumble, “It took so much effort to get those.”

“It shouldn’t have,” Minho counters with a shrug.

He isn’t wrong, and you hate that.

The Black Screen’s demolition expert, Lee Jihoon, is as hard to crack as the shit he blows to pieces. His footlocker full of snacks — a rarity, given the whole everything going on in the world — is even more impenetrable. Charming your way through his stony exterior had been your only option to gain access. It took months, as well as unrelenting friendliness administered in small, persistent doses.

Just like —

Minho wouldn’t have wasted his time with flattery or nuance. He never needs to open his mouth to get what he’s after because his presence — from his stance to his intense, vaguely violent gaze — does all the talking for him. All he would’ve needed to do is blink in Jihoon’s direction, then he would’ve walked out of there with the older man’s treasure trove and the jacket off his back.

Having just been robbed blind yourself, you keep your mouth shut about that.

Shrugging once again, Minho throws down the gauntlet: “Finish your shit quickly, and I might decide to share them with you.”

How thoughtful.

If he’s expecting a verbal response, he won’t get one, you decide. The most you give is a disgruntled sigh. Dying star that you are, you collapse in on yourself, sinking deeper into your chair until you wind up as a half-crumpled heap on the desk below your monitors. It’s a perfect picture of abject failure, making this the only thing you’ve gotten right all day.

You don’t expect Minho to ask after your current state, so you’re not disappointed when he doesn’t. Or, at least, you will yourself not to be. In reality, your bated breath is held for a second or two before you remember who you’re dealing with.

He does speak, though, which surprises you. Your first guess would’ve been that he’d give a hard pass on your dramatics and wander back out the door while your face was buried in your arms.

“Spider,” he sighs, and his tone is so gentle that it shocks the hell out of you. Intimate, almost, even if it is just a caricature. “Call it a night.”

More curious than cautious, you lift your head enough to blink up at him. Between his eyebrows, there’s a small crease that you don’t see often enough to competently translate. You stare at the tension there for a beat longer than you mean to before your gaze drifts downward to meet his.

See? Beautiful.

The second Minho sees your eyebrows raise slightly in question, a switch flips. He shuts the light off, irons out his expression. Whatever softness you found there is gone as quickly as it came.

He clears his throat, then huffs, “Come on.”

You frown and gesture to the screen ahead, pointing out the program you’ve spent all goddamn day working on to no avail. The silent protest doesn’t work on Minho. His stare only becomes more expectant the longer he levels it at you.

“Seriously. Fuck it.”

Having chosen the hill you plan to die on, you envision roots tying your unmoving body to the floor beneath you. Your frown deepens. No, you think emphatically, as if making your internal monologue shout will make him listen.

Minho tries again. “It’ll be here to ruin your day tomorrow.”

You don’t budge, and it pulls an exasperated noise out of him. Curling his right hand into a loose fist, he taps the knuckle of his index finger lightly against your elbow, like the contact will force your mental task list to shut down.

“I’m bored.”

You know exactly what that means.

“Come up to the roof with me.”

Strike that.

“The roof?” You peep, hardened expression smashed to bits before you can blink.

Minho looks a little too pleased by your sudden concession. He even makes one of his own, chuckling slightly before he rolls his eyes and elaborates, “It’s nice out.”

It’s nice out, so you want to fuck me… on the roof?

The hand at your elbow pulls away and re-routes towards the back pocket of his jeans. When it returns to the space between you, there’s a dented, silver flask glinting in his grip. He shakes it, arches one eyebrow, and tops it all off with a wolfish grin that makes your stomach flip.

“Stolen whisky tastes best in restricted areas, I hear.”

He nods his head towards the door, beckoning you to give in, and you’re on your feet without needing the invitation to be repeated.

The sudden movement after sitting for so long means that your body isn’t as enthusiastic as your brain. A sharp pinch pulls a slight gasp out of you. That’s the extent of your own reaction, but Minho isn’t used to this the way you are. Alert eyes flick down to where your residual limb slots into your manufactured one, then back up to search your face.

Once again, he asks without saying a word. You answer with a wave of your hand, “All good.”

Minho’s concern doesn’t immediately dissipate. To prove that you meant what you said, you snatch the packet of honey twists out of his unsuspecting hand and circle around the desk until you’re face to face.

“If I’m on my ass for too long, my leg forgets how to leg,” you explain, grinning more out of triumph than reassurance. Then, you dangle your reclaimed prize from your fingertips because you are nothing if not a little shit. “I’m not a doctor, but I think science says that food helps.”

“Science says?” Minho snorts.

You nod authoritatively, then you turn to the spare folding chair near your work station. Your jacket waits for you there, carefully folded on the cracked, plastic-coated cushion. Shrugging it on, you shove the honey twists in your right pocket and tease, “Sure does.”

The corner of his mouth tugs slightly upwards, and you swear there’s an affectionate smile threatening to break loose.

It doesn’t.

Instead, after pushing off his palms, Minho stands fully upright, nods his head towards the door a second time, and starts making his way towards it. You follow because you always do, biting back your lips to keep your giddiness to yourself.

As the pair of you exit and head down the hallway in comfortable quiet, you note his proximity to you. It’s always the same; he’s always close by but never near enough to touch. The edge of his shirt sleeve brushes against your arm, although his skin never does.

You stopped wondering about that a long time ago, unwilling to figure out if this is a tactic, too.

Halfway to the nearest stairwell, Jeongin appears in a doorway. The room he emerges from used to be an office for the human resources department, back when the factory was operational — back when employers bothered with pretending to give a shit.

Now, the room’s function lands somewhere between a bar and a bedroom. The latter only comes into play when the former makes staggering upstairs to the residential area too much of a hassle. From what you can see over the younger man’s shoulder, that’ll likely be the case tonight.

Jeongin gives you a cursory smile before directing his full attention to the man keeping cursory distance at your side.

None of it makes sense to you, all this effort spent to hide intentions. Maybe, you think, that’s why you’re so fucking terrible at it.

“Hey, hyung!” Jeongin chirps as the pair of you approach. He lifts his hand to wave, but it just looks like he’s shaking the deck of cards in his hand at Minho. “Do you want to —”

Without slowing down, Minho cuts him off mid-ask and at the knees. “No.”

And then his finger slips into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you along beside him as he keeps up the pace. You’re gone before you can see Jeongin’s face fall, but you’re sure it does.

Yours would.

When you reach the stairs, Minho matches your careful pace, albeit much less awkwardly. For as life-saving as the chunk of metal and carbon fiber on your right side has been, there’s at least one problem it hasn’t solved: going up steps is a bitch.

To compensate for your less dynamic knee, your left leg takes stairs two at a time so you can simply step straight up with your right. And even though you’re a bit out of breath from the extra effort, you open your mouth to comment on what you just witnessed.

Minho stops you before you can start. Shooting you a look you know far too well, he sighs, “Don’t.”

You’re as good a faker as you are a listener.

“He’s just trying to —”

He releases his grip on your belt loop. It’s the only reason you realize he’d still been holding on. Stopping at the landing, Minho turns to look back at you. “Can’t think of anything I want to do less than sit next to someone and have to hear about their fucking day.”

Eyebrows raised, you stare up at him. This time, you don’t say a word, letting your expression speak for you.

“With the ever-present risk that I’ll be murdered by the state tomorrow, forgive me if I’m not wasting today by listening to shit I don’t care about.”

There it is, you think.

The combat leader’s insistence that his life will only end one way: too soon and bloody.

That unexploded ordnance drops heavy between you. You step over it, joining him on the landing, and you don’t look back. Just at Minho, who watches you carefully for a reaction; whose tension leaves his muscles when the slight, upward curve of your mouth says, I understand.

Together, you climb the remaining flight until you reach the thick, steel door leading out to the roof. It’s barely functional, like the vast majority of the factory, and can’t shut all the way. With more force than is even remotely necessary, he kicks it fully open. The thick, rubber tread of his boot thuds against the metal. It’s quickly drowned out by the strangled squeak of its hinges.

You’re at least slightly thankful that those hinges don’t explode into a cloud of rust.

On his way to the ledge, Minho grabs two empty buckets from the pile of discarded odds-and-ends near the doorway. The rest of the pile — mainly two-by-four planks too busted to rehab and similarly spent range targets — threatens to collapse without its foundation, but neither of you stops to fix it. He leads, and you follow, ultimately coming to a stop near the ledge.

“So?”

His insufficient question is underscored by the two buckets landing mouth-down on the concrete with twin thunks.

You’re still blinking through your confusion when he unceremoniously drops himself on the furthest bucket and when he stretches out his leg to tap the remaining one with the side of his boot. Coincidentally, you’re still waiting for the rest of his inquiry when you sit — much more gently — next to him. This time, it’s you who moves, nudging your chrome knee against his flesh-and-bone.

Minho finally takes the hint and continues, pulling out his flask as he does. “How was your day?”

The whiplash makes your neck ache.

Remind me again about the last thing you said to me.

After taking a swig without incident, he passes the flask to you. You take your sip — small, cautious — and immediately let out some clownish, choking noise when the strong notes of wooden barrel hit your taste buds.

“Oh, that’s —” You cough, nose scrunching. Whisky-laced breath slips out of your teeth in the form of a hiss. “Absolutely wretched, I fear.”

For the first time all night, Minho’s mask cracks, and a full-fledged laugh tumbles out of his mouth, high and clear as it cuts through the otherwise dead air.

“It’s not,” he counters. Without taking his eyes off your pout, he lifts a hand to catch the flask that you toss at him. “You’re just childish.”

In recompense, you swat his arm.

He lets you.

“Shut up.” Your distinctly childish comeback is breathy because, like always, your laughter isn’t something you can successfully hide. “Am not.”

Another swig, no further incidents.

“Think you need to be demoted. Maybe I should start calling you baby instead of Spider.”

The violent flutter in your chest doesn’t seem to care that what it heard isn’t at all what he meant. For now, you let it happen. You focus instead on his creased eyes and barely-crooked smile; drink them in as quickly as you can, knowing that your window is closing.

As rare as it is, levity looks perfect on him.

While your laughter ebbs, the wind kicks up slightly, bringing a chill with it. You pull your jacket tighter around you as you watch browned leaves spin in pirouettes near your feet. Their presence here is surprising, given how devastating the War was to the ecosystem, but it’s welcomed. It’s a reminder sorely needed: nothing’s ever truly fucked beyond repair.

Minho pipes up suddenly, “You never answered me, you know.” And even though his voice is low, it startles you.

He’s too busy fiddling with the cap of his flask to see it when you turn your head to look quizzically at him. He probably missed the way you jolted just then, too, which is fine by you. Your goldfish brain is still trying to recall what he asked that went without a reply.

When you remain quiet, he supplies, “Your day.”

As it turns out, you’re just as stunned by his question the second time he poses it. Part of you wants to remind him that he could be murdered by the state tomorrow, just in case he wants to reclaim his wasted time. The rest watches as his absentminded fidgeting stops, and his head lifts to look at you — not impatiently, not sardonically, but with the tiniest bit of insecurity scribbled into his slightly furrowed brow.

Oh.

Now, you’re frozen into silence for an entirely different, entirely devastating reason: he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t genuinely want to know.

A self-effacing laugh serves as a smokescreen for how fucking flustered that realization makes you.

“Well, I had plans to go phishing, but they fell through.”

“Beach advisory?” He feigns a frown, making your lips curve upwards at the corners. “Those hypocrites at Thanotech really need to stop dumping their shit into the reservoir.”

At this, you laugh outright.

This is the Minho that no one but you could pick out of a lineup: the one that will take a bit and run with it, who lets his guard down and catches you off yours. This one may not be yours — you know he isn’t, not really — but at times like this, when it’s just the two of you alone, it feels like he is.

“I’ll make sure to tell them you said so.” You pat his thigh, which tenses slightly in the second your palm rests on it. Redirecting your thoughts from where they’re headed, you pull your hand back and tuck it into your jacket pocket. “I really think they’ll listen if they know Lee Minho’s the one asking.”

His eyes roll in response, but the amused smirk he wears doesn’t dissipate. It’s still there when he slowly leans closer, making your breath hitch. His hand shifts closer, too, and your pulse hammers harder with every millimeter that’s cast aside.

There’s an old saying about where the shame should fall when a person gets fooled twice. You practically feel it collide with your thick skull when, for the second time, Minho turns the tables. He nearly turns your pocket inside out in the process, hand snatching the yet-untouched packet of honey crisps before you even know what’s happening.

Just like last time, you put up no fight when he settles back into his own makeshift chair with a smug glint in his eyes. A forlorn sigh is covered by the racket of plastic ripping, followed soon after by a faint crunch.

“Speaking of bait,” he snickers once he’s swallowed. “What are you dangling?”

You really want to hate him for that segue, along with all the rest of his committed atrocities, but you can’t. So, you offer up the only thing you still have:

Technobabble.

“The plan is to sneak in a program to mine data. So long as nobody interrupts me —” You pause to shoot him a pointed look. “— I’ll finish coding it tomorrow and fire it off at some grunt in Ulsan’s fiscal department using a cloned, corporate email account.”

“You think they’ll fall for it?” Minho asks, curiosity piqued.

You flash a grin. “I know they will. Nothing spooks a low-level employee quite like an overdue, mandatory, cybersecurity compliance attestation.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he looks almost proud when he hears about the form of your Trojan horse. It’s certainly what you feel blooming in your chest, especially when you pluck the crisp from between his unsuspecting fingers and pop it into your own mouth.

“Once the program installs, it’ll start reaping what they have access to,” you explain. “I’m sure it’ll be limited at the start, quarterly budget reports and such.”

You shrug dismissively, then look down at your hands. There’s no way this is interesting to someone that isn’t you, but he asked, and you’re answering, and you can’t seem to stop talking.

“But those point me in the direction of invoices and their line items, which gets me to payment accounts, recipients, and other shit they don’t want me to know. It’s a paper trail leading to a paper trail, honestly, but it’s —”

“— how you weave a web.”

It stops your brain in its tracks, leaves your would-be sentence to peter out. You can’t remember the last time anyone followed where your explanations led, let alone saw the importance of all the tiny, tedious steps you take. All the intricacies of your carefully plotted architecture.

With you stalled out, Minho finishes that thought where he left off. “Strand by strand.”

“Yeah,” you exhale, warmth creeping from your chest to your cheeks. “Strand by strand.”

You sit on that bucket on the roof for however long it takes for your ass to go numb, and then you sit some more. Hours, maybe a day or two — irrelevant, as far as you’re concerned. You have Minho next to you and a burgeoning sunrise ahead; and you’ll bask in the glow you’ve found there for as much time as you can.

Minho, it seems, has other plans.

He sighs and flattens his palms against his knees before standing, causing the bucket he’d been occupying to scrape against the concrete. The noise is what gets your attention, not the movement. You turn to look up at him. Your disappointment is more than likely broadcasted all over your face.

“Stay with me,” you whine before you can stop yourself.

Needy isn’t normally a word you’d use to describe yourself; you’re far from it. Now, though… In this moment, it might be written in blaring red letters on your forehead, judging by the extremely brief flash of surprise you see in front of you. It’s gone as quickly as it came. The twinge of embarrassment you feel sticks around to keep you warm.

Minho is quiet for a beat, like he’s got something to consider. Whatever he decides on, it makes his head tilt to the side. A devilish look takes over his features, washing from his narrowed eyes to his tilted lips. All mischief, he counters, “Fuck me.”

Why do those things have to be mutually exclusive?

You don’t voice your question out loud, even though you kind of want to scream it, because he holds his hand out to help you up, and instant gratification together feels so much better than waiting through a delay alone. So, you take his hand, just like he knew you would, and you follow.

Back to the door, back down to the second level of the factory, back to your room in an otherwise unoccupied wing, until the door is shut softly behind you.

Every single one of your rendezvous has been different from the last. The time, location, everything varies, not unlike the version of himself that Minho lets you see. Even though the steps change completely from tryst to tryst, they still feel like they’ve been choreographed and rehearsed ahead of time.

For example, he’s never caged you against a wall and pinned your wrists one-handed above your head before, but your body reacts as if this is the sole position it was made to occupy in life.

His teeth nip at the side of your neck, and your head falls back instinctively. You don’t give a shit about the muted thump of your skull against the brick, but Minho seems to.

“Watch yourself,” he murmurs, lips fluttering against your throat. Despite the muted volume, his tone carries an authority to it that makes even your chrome knee weak. “If you wind up with a concussion, I’m not explaining it to Doc.”

You gasp when his tongue flicks out to soothe the sting his teeth leave behind. Beyond desperate, you push up on your toes to bring yourself closer to his mouth. It’s further out of reach than you remember — it shouldn’t be. Barely a week has gone by since he last had you like this.

Embarrassingly breathless already, you ask, “Have you gotten taller? What have they been feeding you?”

His knee comes forward slowly to nudge yours apart. You make room, letting his thigh press into the gap created. If his left hand wasn’t keeping you stretched up to your full height, you’d be riding that thigh by now.

“You know what I eat.”

Your eyes roll back. You’re not sure if that’s a reaction to his line or the way he clenches his thigh, shifting it further into the space between your spread legs. Either way, that taut muscle is only millimeters away from your cunt now; the low hum that rumbles from his chest says that he can feel the heat rolling off you in waves.

You want so badly to be able to touch him, cling to him, scratch your nails across his scalp and pull him in by his hair. You want him to touch you — really touch you — not just to tease you the way he is, threatening to mark you up with his mouth without following through.

If you try to tug your arms down, will he let you?

Part of you hopes that he doesn’t.

At least, not without consequences.

Minho can tell how fucking restless you are. You’re not surprised; you vibrate with want at a frequency he’s always been attuned to. Speaking any of it out loud would be redundant, so you save your breath. His fans warmth over the shell of your ear, pulling the hammer back: “What’s the matter, Spider? You don’t like being the one in the trap?”

You can’t help but tremble at that.

“Fine,” he tuts, finger on the trigger.

Your eyes widen in anticipation when his hand drops its hold on your wrists; and your arms fold slowly back down when he retracts. There’s a muted ache in your muscles from the strain they’d been put under. You can’t say that you mind.

His hands move next to his belt buckle, deft fingers making quick work of the metal before the two pieces dangle on either side of his zipper. That’s the image burned into your brain when he leans in close enough to kiss you. He doesn’t kiss you — he never does — but he finally fires at point blank range:

“Turn around.”

Bang!

It’s so unexpected that you don’t register it as real at first. Neither does Minho, whose demanding gaze stays glued to you. The noise comes again, louder than the first, and you hear the cry that comes with it through the door.

“Spider, are you there?”

Hyunjin.

It’s his voice, you know, but it doesn’t sound right at all. The air of self-assuredness he usually carries is long gone. Whatever’s replaced it sounds completely unlike him in a way that makes your stomach turn.

Minho puts distance between your bodies in the time it takes Hyunjin to push open the door. You notice that he forgot to address his belt buckle, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. The youngest among you is too visibly shaken to see it as he stumbles inside with red-rimmed eyes.

Oh, fuck.

Panicked, you shoot a quick glance at Minho, hoping he’ll see your alarm and know what to do with it. His eyes are locked onto Hyunjin, who comes to a stop in front of you; Minho’s expression is the definition of illegible.

Your hand lifts instinctively to Hyunjin’s shoulder. Apparently, that reassuring touch is all it takes to break the dam; to break him down into sobs.

“Hey!” You gasp, knitting your arms around his frame and hauling him towards you. His face slots into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, allowing his hyperventilated breaths to hit your skin directly. “Hey, it’s —”

You know better than to lie and say it’s okay.

Minho may be fearless, but it’s Hyunjin that’s the least flappable in the entire group by a long shot. If you were to search back through the last decade, you wouldn’t be able to find a single moment where he seemed annoyed or anxious, let alone fucking devastated to the degree he currently is.

This is the farthest from okay things could possibly be.

You can’t tell if it’s heartbreak, nausea, or both that swells when you fill your fists with the back of his jacket and hold on tight.

From his spot two meters away, Minho cuts to the chase. “What happened to you?”

Hyunjin can’t answer, not at first.

Maybe, you think, saying whatever it is out loud will confirm the reality of the situation. You don’t push him. Instead, you stop holding him long enough to pull him over to the far corner of your makeshift bedroom, where he drops down to sit on the mattress held off the floor by two wooden pallets. Despite his wiry frame, the force of his collapse makes the wood clatter against the concrete floor below.

When you take a spot beside him, it’s much less quickly, no more graceful. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the hand you place on his shoulder to keep yourself steady. If he hears the click at your manufactured joint over the sound of his own barely-regulated breathing, he doesn’t say so.

Still standing where he was left — where he left you, more like — Minho’s narrowed eyes hone in again on Hyunjin. The expression on his face is just as unreadable as before, and he still won’t look at you.

As much as that bothers you, your own feelings are never your first priority. You turn your head to look from Minho to Hyunjin, whose hands grip the black denim of his jeans like a lifeline. When the latter finally does speak, the explanation hemorrhages out of him, spilling and flooding until there isn’t much air left in the room to breathe.

Three things in particular hit you like a train:

The Bliss Beta is infinitely more insidious than you could’ve imagined — even for Ulsan — and its mass rollout is closer than you ever would’ve guessed.

You now have the data you need to find the servers running the Beta, which means there’s a chance that the way things currently are is the worst they’ll get.

There’s a guillotine blade looming over the Professor’s neck, and it’s your hand on the rope, obligated to let go. It’s your scale that’s tasked with weighing lives.

Nausea, you realize, almost too late.

You grab hold of the wastebasket near the foot of your mattress and squeeze your eyes shut while your honey twists leave you in a hurry.

He loves her.

He loves her, he loves her, he loves her, and there are fifty-one-million faceless reasons why he can’t have her. You feel the weighted stares of every single one of them on you when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver datashard. It’s thin, flat with sharp edges, but it’s a bullet if you’ve ever seen one.

When Hyunjin places it in your hand, your fingers don’t close around it. You can’t even look at it without feeling faint; your body won’t accept the weight of it in your palm. You avert your eyes, praying that your object permanence disappears along with it.

And then that reflex kicks in again, craving some semblance of safety.

Minho is already watching you intently when you turn your head his way. The relief you feel is immediate, and you don’t have the energy left to pretend that’s not the case.

You love him.

You love him, you love him, you love him, and this goddamn horror show you’re living through feels survivable while he’s around, even if it isn’t.

Maybe, you think, if you live to see the end, his presence will help you hate yourself less for the things you’re about to do to get there. That’s been the case so far, anyway. You’ve got a decade’s worth of scorched bridges behind you, and the ash on your face has never made him see you any differently.

Hyunjin clears his throat, dragging you back into the moment you don’t want to be a part of.

“She said there’s multi-level encryption on this thing,” he mumbles, voice weak. His hand envelops yours and gently folds your fingers over your palm, as if he knows damn well you won’t do it yourself. “I don’t have to tell you this, but be careful, Spider. One move too many, and we’re all dead.”

You freeze; he stands, wiping invisible dirt from the front of his jeans. Nothing he attempts will make him feel clean, you know, but you don’t fault him for trying.

Before he can take a single step back towards your door, you reach out and grab his hand, preventing him from leaving.

“Keys,” you croak.

His eyebrows knit together.

“Cryptographic keys — characters. Numbers, usually.” You shake your head to realign your thoughts. It doesn’t do much; your explanation still comes out sputtering. “Each encryption is going to have a different algorithm altering its data, and it’ll be faster if I don’t have to write a separate program to try and find the strings I need.”

Judging by his face, the explanation makes sense, but he still looks as if he has no fucking idea what the answers might be.

For the first time in nearly an hour, Minho speaks. The suddenness of his participation makes both you and Hyunjin flinch.

“Dates,” he offers gruffly. “Ones that are significant to the two of you, maybe.”

The suggestion cracks against your skull like a baseball bat.

Of all the things you could’ve expected him to say in the presence of someone other than you, something sentimental didn’t even come close to making the list. Hyunjin, it seems, is just as startled by this — by the appearance of your invisible friend, who’s spent ten years refusing to let this side of him be seen.

You make a note to ask Minho where this idea came from. If there are any dates he holds onto, with no one the wiser.

Hyunjin’s brow furrows for a moment while he thinks. Then, the light bulb behind his eyes flashes.

Eureka.

Dashing now towards the door, he calls out to you over his shoulder. “I’ll make you a list,” he promises breathlessly before he disappears altogether.

Without Hyunjin’s voice to fill it, the silence of your room roars in your ears. You need to shrug it off you, physically; move around so that you stop feeling like you’re being hydraulically pressed.

In a wordless request for help, you hold your hand out to Minho. The jury’s still out as to what you want when he takes it: to drag him down to you, to be hauled to your feet, or to simply have it held.

For the first time — possibly ever — he doesn’t take it.

Well-practiced hands drop to his belt buckle instead of reaching out to you. He re-fastens it quickly, and over the clink of metal, he grunts, “Stop looking at me like that.”

You blink rapidly when that sucker-punch statement hits you. “Looking at you like what, Minho?” You ask gently, as if your excess will make up for his lack.

“Like I’m your future.”

And just like that, he’s gone without another word or a backwards glance.

Eleven days crawl by without you seeing or hearing from Minho. You struggle to keep count as they pass. You’re so preoccupied that there’s no real difference between them, leaving them all to bleed together. It doesn’t help that all ten nights so far have been more or less sleepless.

While you’d love to say that all your time awake has been productive, you’d be lying. Sure, you spend the vast majority of it with the bright light of your monitors boring into your retinas, but that doesn’t mean you’re actively engaging with the shit displayed there. Between your program and your spent brain, it’s your neural pathways that are most in need of re-writing.

“Goddammit,” you hiss when a shock jolts through your upper right thigh for the umpteenth time today alone.

Halfway crazy from frustration, you glare down at your quad and see the remaining muscles there twitching violently. And even though it’s been over a year, your brain is still surprised to find that the source of your pain doesn’t exist at all.

That outburst from you certainly isn’t the first, yet it’s the one that catches Chan’s attention. Like you, he’s spent an unhealthy amount of his time in the Hub over the past week and a half, pouring over who knows what. It’s safe to assume that’s how he’d describe your work, too.

“Been especially bad lately, hasn’t it?” He asks, head popping up from behind a stack of files.

He probably doesn’t expect you to squeak out a laugh at the sight of him, but you can’t help yourself.

“You look like a meerkat when you do that.” The frown you get in response only makes you giggle more, despite yourself. “Like an overworked, overtired, under-caffeinated meerkat.”

Chan works overtime to control his expression, steel himself. It doesn’t work. It never does, no matter how obnoxious you and your comrades are around him because at the end of the day, all he ever is, is fond.

He sighs as he sits up fully in his chair. “Spider.”

It’s funny, you think. He sounds just like your father when he takes that tone with you, although the name he uses is nowhere near the same.

“Talk to Doc.” Realizing he sounded more stern than he meant to, Chan’s mouth softens from a thin, straight line to a slight smile. He adds, “Please.”

And because you’re the best behaved of all his pseudo-children, you don’t put up a fight. You don’t roll your eyes the way Seungmin does, or do the exact opposite of what you’ve been told, like —

Don’t go there.

You just get up, ignoring the strong urge you feel to buckle at the knees and hit the floor, and push your chair back with the underside of your thighs. Chan sees the pained look on your face immediately and moves to stand up and help you. You wave him off.

“All good,” you lie through gritted teeth, bearing weight on your palm as you maneuver your way around your desk.

Chan may not believe you, but he listens, nonetheless. While you guide yourself from your workstation on the far side of the room towards the door, you try very hard to ignore the thought that keeps ricocheting around your skull like a bullet, shredding whatever grey matter gets in its way.

There’s one person that line wouldn’t have worked on.

It takes a considerable amount of time to hobble to Doc’s clinic, which is clear on the other side of the compound, but you eventually make it there without breaking too much of a sweat.

In a past life, the space was an employee locker room that featured shower stalls and toilets on one side, and numerous lockers and benches on the other. Jeongin tried his best, but the plumbing was fucked beyond repair; all the utilities were scrapped. Whatever useful parts remained were repurposed elsewhere, while the broken bits wound up in that pile of assorted garbage on the roof.

Don’t.

Due to the size of the space, there’d been a multi-day debate on what to use it for. In the end, the decision was made to give it new life as a makeshift field hospital because Minho was right. The tile and drainage system is ideal for —

Stop it.

When you push through the swinging, double doors and stagger inside, you learn that you’re not today’s only patient. On one of the cots up ahead, Doc’s nimble fingers work to stitch Scraps’ left eyebrow back together, while Felix paces in the background with his hands in his hair.

“I’m so —”

“Felix!”

Scraps slaps her hands down onto her thigh. The sound echoes off the tile walls like a thunderclap, but she doesn’t flinch at the contact. Doc does, however. She freezes solid, needle-holder in hand.

If Doc is frustrated, she doesn’t show it. That bedside manner of hers is unparalleled. Her gentle voice sounds suspiciously like Chan’s when she pleads, “No violence until I’m done holding a needle near your eye.”

Scraps nods in acknowledgment, which only contributes to the panicked look on Doc’s face. You bite your lips to hold your laughter in as you amble closer and dump yourself onto a nearby cot.

“Seriously — stop apologizing,” Scraps calls over her shoulder.

If it wasn’t for Doc’s gentle hold on her chin, you suspect that she’d turn her head to look at Felix outright.

“I told you to raise the stakes, and you did. So, I owe you a gold star for being a good listener, I guess.”

The way he looks at her when she can’t even see him kind of makes you want to sob. That ache only grows when he puts his hands on either side of her head, leans down, and plants a kiss on her hair.

Meanwhile, Doc is muttering, “Please stop moving, please stop moving, please stop moving,” like those are the only words she knows. You feel as guilty as you do grateful; her distress is a sufficient distraction from your own.

“Done!” She chirps moments later. Relief washes over her in a heartbeat, releasing tension from every single muscle cell she has — like she’s successfully disarmed a bomb, rather than sutured a minor injury.

And even though she’s too polite to say it, you swear you can hear her thinking it:

Please leave now.

And they do. They fall into lockstep, with Scraps tucked under Felix’s arm and hers wrapped around his waist.

And you’re still staring at the door once it swings shut again, so lost in all your conflicting thoughts that Doc has to call your name twice to get your attention.

“You’re not due back in for another month or so.” She frowns. “What’s on your mind?”

As usual, you don’t know where to start. You don’t know how to turn the faucet on without overflowing the bathtub, either, so you just let it all pour out.

“Everything was fine — perfect, probably. Or the closest it’s going to get, I guess. Then — I don’t even know what happened, but he won’t fucking look at me now. Won’t talk to me, walks out of a room when I walk in, like he can’t even stand to ignore me in my presence.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth to make up for all the ones you skipped out on while you rambled on.

Of course, that doesn’t mean you stop rambling.

“And I think it might be breaking my heart. I don’t know. I don’t — I don’t know what to do now. It’s very distracting,” you mutter, frowning.

A laugh slips out to signal how uncomfortable you are with the sudden intentional vulnerability. It sounds more like the sort of hiccup that precedes a sob.

“Stupid thing to fixate on when the world’s on fire, isn’t it?”

To say that Doc is taken aback would be an understatement. Her eyes go wide; her lips purse. She pauses for a moment before she ultimately whispers, “I meant your leg.”

You’d go dig your own grave out back if you could walk that far.

“Oh.”

Doc does you the favor of averting her eyes. She focuses instead on her lap, eyes widening without blinking, as if she’ll be able to see her way out of the conversation more easily that way.

Self-conscious now to the point of nausea, you play with the frayed edge of denim that lays over the end of your residual limb. You can’t help but wonder how many right-side pant legs you’ve chopped off over the last twelve months, and what those bits of fabric ended up being used for.

Maybe they’re in that pile on the roof.

“Is mirror therapy helping at all?”

You glance up at Doc. “Not as much as it used to,” you sigh. “I think my brain figured out I was trying to bamboozle it and threw another wall up. Those are all it has at this point — walls and holes.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. Now, you wonder if you’ve taken Doc out of her depth. You were her first — and thankfully remain her only — amputation. If anyone’s gonna stump her, it’s you.

You snicker at your own unspoken joke.

Get it?

“How much do you remember?” She asks, catching you off-guard. It was the fact that she asked you anything that surprised you, not the question itself, but she assumes she’s offended you. Quickly, she apologizes. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to talk about it.”

The truth is, the before and during are both incredibly vague. You know that you went with a small group to Ilsan, planning to fuck up one of WraithCo.’s supply lines, and that their ghouls caught wind of your plans.

Beyond that, it’s anyone’s guess. The audio underscoring this montage in your mind is warped to all hell; the faces and voices are blurry, as if they’ve since been censored. Deleted, just like the lower two-thirds of your leg.

As for the after… All that comes to mind is pain, in one form or another.

Fighting off an infection, which left your waking hours in some fever-filled daze that only stopped when the various meds worked their magic and knocked you back unconscious.

Being bed-ridden for an eternity after that fever broke and the infection cleared, too exhausted and depressed to keep your eyes open.

Aching all over as you forced your body to remember how to walk, too obsessed with your newfound crumb of independence to let anyone see you stumble.

Self-imposed isolation to hide the toll it’d all taken on you, and the frustration that came with knowing what you were doing but being unable to stop yourself.

“Nothing I wouldn’t mind forgetting” you finally say.

Doc hums thoughtfully but offers nothing beyond a tiny frown. The part of you that wants to know why she’s asking is overrun by the part of you that fears what she’ll tell you; clearly, she’s similarly torn.

Add this to the list of things you’ll have to learn to live without.

Time continues to both slip and crawl by. Days are gone before you can blink; nights encase you in cement, trap you in place. You know it’s not a coincidence. You’re only alone after dark.

Still, it’s not all bad. You’ve certainly been more productive lately, whether or not you truly want to be. That’s not a coincidence, either. You’re capable of accomplishing quite a bit when the only person you truly want to talk to has no interest in listening.

If he did want to listen, you might tell Minho that he was right about the keys to the encryption being linked to dates. You could thank him, if he’d hear you out. Maybe you’d finally summon up the courage to ask where the idea came from.

What if…?

These little hypotheticals of yours only get more painful, the longer you steep in them, and you’re no good at reining your mind in when it starts wandering. It runs off in the same direction every time it goes — back to the night you finished peeling back all the layers.

You know there’s no point in imagining the ways Minho would’ve distracted you then because he didn’t. He was nowhere to be found; and you cried alone in your room, overwhelmed by both the relief of having answers and the all-consuming guilt of knowing what — and who — it cost to get them.

A familiar, prickling feeling at the corners of your eyes pulls you back to the present. You tilt your head back and blink rapidly to keep the dam from breaking. Part of you is proud. This might be the first time you’ve ever managed to keep your feelings to yourself.

“My halmoni always said that holding back your sneezes like that takes a year off your life.”

With a jolt, you snap to attention. Your neck does the same, head falling back down so quickly that your teeth click painfully against one another. The surprise — and the inadvertent scowl it prompts — melts away when you register Jeongin in the doorway.

You frown, although you laugh a little. “That’s horrifying, kid.”

If Jeongin sees you swipe the back of your thumb over your cheekbones, he doesn’t say so. He simply ambles into the Hub and finds his usual spot at the far side of the central table.

“She said the same thing about being under streetlights when they burn out,” he tuts, taking a seat. He blinks through thoughtful silence for a moment before re-focusing newly-widened eyes on you. “Now that I think about it, she did die young...”

You would’ve loved to hear that theory play out, but the opportunity flies out the door as soon as Hyunjin walks through it. The comment you want to make about his surprising punctuality is swallowed down just as quickly as it bubbles up. His expression tells you that he’s not up for much of anything, let alone teasing. With a cursory nod, he acknowledges that he is, at the very least, capable of noticing his surroundings.

Unfortunately, you’re not capable of looking at him — seeing the state of him — without your bleeding heart cracking right in half.

Chan serves as a sufficient distraction, thankfully. He enters shortly after Hyunjin with both Seungmin and Doc in tow. He ignores the former’s nagging about who knows what and ushers the latter to the chair next to the head of the table. He doesn’t sit, though you wouldn’t have expected him to; he never does. Instead, he stands at the back of his chair with his eyes flicking expectantly over to the door.

In the time it takes you to cross from your workstation to your usual folding chair, the guest list doubles. Holding up the wall in the corner, Jihoon stands with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. To his right, Scraps sits on a rare patch of free space on Chan’s desk, legs swinging idly as they dangle; and to his left, you spy the cat-eyed girl whose name you still haven’t learned. All you know about her is that she works under Hyunjin, and they’re so in-sync that people have taken to calling them siblings.

You see no similarities between them now, however. She has light left in her eyes.

Several others filter in as the minutes pass, most of whom you haven’t yet crossed paths with. Well, you might have. Your days all run together; your short-term memory isn’t firing on all cylinders. You don’t take the opportunity to register their faces now, though. Your eyes only linger for the second it takes to confirm who they aren’t.

Chan turns his head to you, earning your attention. “Where’s —?”

Doc shoots him a look that interrupts his question before he can finish it. She knows what he doesn’t, after all: You’re currently the worst person to turn to for information on Minho’s whereabouts, even though you used to be the first.

Behind you, a heavily-accented voice chimes in, “He’s with little Yongbokie on an errand. They should be back soon.”

You don’t have to turn around to know who’s speaking. Sierra, as she’s known within the collective, has the sort of presence you can feel, even when she can’t be seen. It’s still unclear to you how she wound up a world away from the island she grew up on, but you’re glad that she did, and that she’s on your side. If she wasn’t —

Well…

Suffice it to say, there’s a reason why this foreign mercenary is called what she is — two reasons, actually, according to her native language — and neither bodes well for enemies. Specifically, there’s a mountain of bodies behind her, all of them hacked to bits by those blades she’s so fond of.

Yeah, you think. Definitely better to keep her close.

“Just start without them,” she snaps at Chan, eye roll evident in her tone.

Despite outranking her, Chan can’t hide the uneasiness that comes with being addressed by Sierra directly. You watch him swallow the lump in his throat before he clears it fully. “Everyone, listen up,” he says with the sort of gentle authority only he’s capable of.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. It’s such a stark contrast to the tone that goaded him to speak in the first place.

Still, a hush falls over the Hub immediately.

“I know some of you have heard whispers about this. I don’t necessarily trust that the rumors swirling are accurate —”

Pointedly, Chan looks at Jeongin, who’s often the point in the relay where things go horribly wrong. The youngest never intends to pass on off-base gossip, but his attention span is about as poor as his audio processing. Jeongin ducks his head down; the tips of his ears go a dangerous shade of red.

“— so I’d like to make sure our record is straight.” Chan claps his hands, and as he rubs his palms together, he turns on his heel towards your side of the table. “Take it away, Spider,” he sings, beaming.

You turn your head quickly to the left and then to the right, searching for whoever the hell he’s truly cold-calling because it simply cannot be you. He knows better; he has to. For the decade you’ve worked together, you’ve hidden behind your screens because you don’t have the stomach for this leadership shit — especially not public speaking. It’s why you nominated him to run the show.

Eyebrows disappearing into your hairline, you stare incredulously back at him, silently begging him to pick the gauntlet back up.

Meanwhile, at least twenty pairs of eyes burn holes into you, like sun rays through a magnifying lens.

Fitting.

“Well,” you eventually manage to squeak out. “I — um… I spent the last month or so spelunking into confidential files relating to the — uhh — the Bliss Beta?”

It’s not a question. You don’t know why you made it sound like one.

Collapsing in on yourself, you knot your fingers on the table in front of you and stare down at your hands. “There’s a facility, it turns out, in — umm —”

“Is this going to take long? If it is, I can go and grab snacks.” Seungmin, from his spot across the table, smirks at you in such a way that you might — for the first time in your life — choose violence.

That is, if his jokes at your expense didn’t have your nervous stomach churning even harder, sending bile up your throat.

That is, if a cold voice didn’t fly out of nowhere, primed to eviscerate Seungmin before you can even process your own reaction.

“It’ll be a bit hard for you to chew after swallowing all your teeth, don’t you think?”

You hadn’t noticed Minho enter, but you find him easily now that he’s given himself away. He leans casually against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, leaving his tone as the only indication that he is, in fact, bothered. Everyone that had previously been standing near the door must’ve cleared a perimeter at some point — undoubtedly without being told to.

In response, Chan’s warning look is bifurcated, shot off to both men with equal, albeit subtle force. Seungmin’s face gives way to something apologetic. You can see it in his eyes that he thought he was being funny; that there’s no malice, only an inability to read a fucking room. To the contrary, Minho’s expression is pure venom, jaw set so tight that his teeth could crack.

He may have just interjected on your behalf, but he doesn’t look at you for more than a split second, as if he didn’t mean to concede even that much time.

And even though it feels illegal somehow, you keep your eyes fixed on him, as if you’ll catch another sliver of acknowledgement.

“In Cheongju,” you continue shakily. Your voice barely registers above a whisper, like you’re speaking to a single person, rather than a room full of them. “There’s a facility in Cheongju. All the servers currently associated with the Beta are operating out of there.”

Despite your anxiety, you manage to laugh. “They’re sitting ducks, really. Terrible planning from a security standpoint — either stupidity or arrogance.”

“Both,” Jihoon adds gruffly. If you’re not mistaken, he directs his next line at Seungmin. “Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

You know it wasn’t his intention, but you crack a tiny smile, nonetheless. “Comorbidities, aren’t they?”

As soon as you say it out loud, your cheeks set to burning. You send a panicked glance to Doc and duck your head, like your fear of looking stupid isn’t on full display. “Please tell me I used that term correctly,” you mutter, feeling instant relief when she nods and a profound sense of comfort when she pats your still-clenched hands.

“So, what are we going to do about it?” Sierra cuts to the chase, as she often does. “Arson?”

Her eyes sparkle at the suggestion. You find yourself surprised that she’s offered something so tame. Only a week ago, her response to seeing a cockroach in the canteen was to shoot at it.

Not for nothing, you’re also surprised by how endearing you still find that little anecdote — but maybe you shouldn’t be. It’s not the first time you’ve developed a soft spot for someone so sharp.

Reflexively, you look over at Minho. You see his eyes flicker, like he’d averted them just in time to miss yours. It’s the only reason you have to believe that he’d been watching you, save for the inexplicable warmth you’d felt crawling up your neck.

You don’t know what to do with any of that.

“Destroying the servers would only be a bandage,” you sigh. “I want to fully eradicate the program itself, which means those servers need to remain intact — for now.”

“So, we do it like Daegu, then?” Felix suggests. Judging by his sudden participation, he’s overjoyed to have something to contribute to a conversation he wouldn’t normally follow. “We broke in and set up that…. thing for you, in that room that was like an…. air-conditioned microwave?”

You bite down on your lips to keep from laughing. It’s a miracle that he remembers the Thanotech raid at all with the concussion he sustained in the process. It’s even more incredible that he remembers the non-technical explanation you gave for the server room within that data center.

Shaking your head, you frown. “I need to be on-site for this one.”

“Absolutely not. Fuck no.”

Across the room, Minho now stands fully upright. His hands are no longer in his pockets; they hang at his sides, clenched tightly.

You can’t help the incredulous scoff you let out. Bold of him, you think, to write you off completely and then attempt to dictate where and when you get to exist. That slap in the face still stings, but you keep your tone as light as possible.

“If something goes wrong, or if things have changed from the schematics I was able to access, I won’t be able to handle it remotely. I need to be there to troubleshoot.” And even though it goes without saying, you remind him anyway: “We’re not getting a second crack at this.”

“I know you don’t remember Ilsan, but I do,” Minho glowers, tone as dark as his eyes. The rest of the room falls into a charged silence; everyone is too tense to breathe, let alone speak. “I remember carrying three-quarters of your body out of Ilsan and spending weeks at your bedside.”

Just like that, the air in your lungs turns to cement.

How do you admit to not knowing he was even there?

And what the hell are you supposed to do with this information now that it’s reaching you for the first time — a year after the fact — in front of an audience?

You try to start somewhere. “Minho —”

“No.” His voice is sharp when it cuts you off, but there’s a crack in the blade, so microscopic that you wonder if you’re imagining things. He clears his throat to try and keep himself even. “You don’t get to make that call.”

Here comes that prickling feeling again, causing tears to spring up at the corners of your eyes. You clench your jaw and try to wish them away.

It’s Chan that speaks next. “You’re right. Spider doesn’t get to make that call,” he concedes. Then, his expression turns to stone. “I do. She said there’s no way around it, so she’s going —”

Minho seeks to interrupt, but Chan raises his hand and stops him in his tracks. You want to argue, too, because you’re right here and don’t need to be spoken about, as if you’re not in the room. The leader plows through, unaffected.

“— and because you know what the stakes are, your only job is to keep her safe.”

If the anguished look on Minho’s face says anything, it’s that he wants nothing to do with the burden of keeping you — what’s left of you — in one piece.

The briefing continues after his outburst, but Minho doesn’t hear a word of it. It all flows past him, waterlogged and warped, without sinking in. He finds it hard to give a shit about that fact, though.

Clearly, his input doesn’t matter. Worse, the sole order that’s been made of him is fucking redundant. He can’t imagine that the rest of them would mean much, so what does it matter if he didn’t pay attention?

He’s halfway out the door by the time Chan wraps up. Dodging eye contact, Minho turns to leave outright, to disappear somewhere and lick his wounds. One last lash manages to hit him as he goes:

When you cross the room, you’re not headed his way. No, your quick steps take you straight to Jihoon.

Minho knows that he has no right to feel this bitter. He should be grateful that his pushing you away is having the intended effect — that you might’ve found someone other than him to lean on — but the relief he’s been waiting to feel is nowhere to be found.

It never is.

The quick fixes he’s gotten of you in back rooms and shadows didn’t satiate him, either. Cutting you out completely has only proven to be more of the same ache.

Unwilling to watch the consequences of his own actions unfold, Minho turns sharply out of the doorway. Automatically, his feet carry him down the hall, up the stairs towards the roof. His brain might tell him otherwise if it wasn’t currently swimming, but his body acts on its own, seeking out the last place and time where he didn’t feel like this.

It’s a bad call, he realizes as he ascends.

He’ll never be able to recreate a scene with half the cast absent. The stage directions are fucked now. There’s no reason to take the steps one at a time now that he’s alone, but he still does. Without context, his motivations make no sense; and his hands don’t know what the hell to do without a belt loop hooked underneath one of his fingers. They twitch in the absence of denim.

With every step, he repeats his only line:

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And when he reaches that busted fucking door and kicks it with everything he has, no one looks at him with amused disapproval.

It’s all wrong.

Steel hits cement with a sickening clang that’s still ringing out as he stalks over to the ledge and drops himself down on a familiar, overturned bucket. Its counterpart sits unoccupied at his side. Minho can’t look at it, can’t get up to throw it off the fucking roof, can’t do anything except simmer in his rage because —

Your only job is to keep her safe.

He tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and shouts into the void above, “Fuck!”

As if he needs to be told.

As if he hasn’t been trying to do exactly that for all the years he’s known you, driving nails further into his own goddam coffin with every second spent in your web.

Elbows come to rest on his knees. His face falls, too, until it drops into his palms. No matter how hard he tries to control his breathing, it comes out through gritted teeth, seething.

The fucking audacity.

Even if Minho hasn’t given you a reason to know better, Chan should. He’s seen better, firsthand.

Every time Chan stopped by the clinic to check in on you, he found Minho already sitting next to your glorified cot, watching your sleeping form like a hawk for any sign of distress.

Chan didn’t need to ask how your hair ended up in poorly-executed braids because the unskilled hands that made them were wringing themselves at your side. He never needed to ask why, either. When you finally stopped thrashing through nightmares, you didn’t wake up to find yourself tangled in inescapable knots.

Keep her safe.

That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it?

When his candle gets snuffed out — and he knows it will, can feel it in his bones that this is it — who’s going to keep you safe?

Hyunjin doesn’t have the capacity — not anymore. Minho was there with you the night Hyunjin’s whole world exploded into pieces. You saw love, but Minho saw your future. He sees it every time he looks at Hyunjin, who’s still listless, still lingering on the periphery like a fucking ghost. Hyunjin will never be the same, and if Minho lets himself get any closer to you than he already has, you’ll wind up just as empty.

Then who?

Chan is too busy. Doc is just as preoccupied, and as kind as she is, she’s never understood you — not really. Felix and Scraps can barely manage themselves; you’ll fall through the cracks amidst their bullshit shenanigans. Neither Seungmin nor Jeongin can be trusted with anything — or anyone — this important. They’re both fucking disasters in their own right, although Jeongin may eventually grow out of that. Changbin is too reclusive, and so is Jihoon; Jisung’s an anxious mess. Sierra is, at absolute minimum, insane.

And Minho may be the worst of them, but he tried his best for you. He’s still trying, even though that means keeping you as far away from him as possible.

“Fuck,” he repeats, albeit much less strongly.

That pathetic, choked-out word hits the air and dissipates quickly, leaving Minho alone in self-imposed exile. He stays there until sunrise, when the unoccupied bucket to his left becomes too visible to tolerate.

The next time Minho steps foot in the Hub, it’s much less crowded than the last. In fact, for what might be the first time ever, he’s beaten everyone else in. It’s no wonder; his stomach has been churning for hours now, and it was useless to keep laying in a bed he couldn’t sleep in.

Because life is far from fair, you’re the second to arrive. He doesn’t have to see you enter to know it; definitely doesn’t need to look up to confirm that it was your deliberate, slightly uneven footfalls he heard coming up the hall. It’s a reflex, though. His gaze lifts just in time to meet yours.

“Oh,” you peep, eyes bright despite the dark circles below them. “Hi.”

You seem startled to find Minho here ahead of you. Warranted, he thinks. The sunshine you cast on him isn’t, but you don’t try to withhold it — or maybe you can’t. As much as he loves that about you, it confuses the shit out of him and scares him just as badly. You either didn’t get the memo when you chose this life, or you don’t feel the crushing weight of it yet:

Sparks like yours can’t last forever.

His voice sounds like gravel after last night’s anxious reflux, but he echoes you, nonetheless, “Hi.”

And then Chan walks in. He stops short when he sees the two of you, eyes flicking from your face to Minho’s with barely-hidden intrigue. Somehow, he misses the daggers Minho shoots at him with eyes alone.

“I re-routed everyone else to the vans and told them to load their shit. You ready?” Chan poses the question to both of you, but his focus is fixed solely on you. It lingers for a moment, like there’s some secret, second question hidden between the lines.

Minho doesn't know what’s going on, but he does know that he hates whatever it is.

You nod. Whether that’s in response to what was asked or what wasn’t, he can’t say. Your mouth sits in a tight, straight line. That, Minho can easily translate to feigned confidence. You’re not ready; you’re not good at bluffing, either.

He sees his window in that bit of doubt and tries to leap through it. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

It doesn’t sound as firm as he wants it to. If you listen closely — and you always do — it probably sounds like he’s pleading, which feels both alien and illegal to Minho. He clears his throat. “We can do this without you, Spider. I’m serious. Tell me how to get you set up for remote access, and I’ll —”

“I don’t know how many more times I have to say this for you to understand: You can’t do this without me. You need me.”

Despite what you say, there’s no heat in the way you say it. It sounds like you’re pleading, too; scratching at the door to be let in. He knows you well enough to catch the subtext; to know that you’re not just talking about the job. But Minho can’t make his mouth move. Likewise, he can’t turn away.

Stop looking at her like she’s your future.

Chan doesn’t have time for the thousand of things going unsaid, so he interjects with an exasperated grunt, “Vans.” He points to the clock before gesturing between you and Minho. “Ten minutes, or you’re both walking to Cheongju.”

Neither of you moves once he clears the threshold and disappears again. Say something, he tells himself. Say anything.

He doesn’t.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” you muse, eyes narrowing slightly with concern. It’s not a question. There’s no uncertainty in the way you look at him, although that’s nothing new. “I read somewhere that peppermint gum helps with reflux.”

You shrug, like it’s simply a fact you’re sharing. It’s not. It’s the millionth way you’ve found to say “I love you” without using those words.

Minho slips off the empty workstation desk he’s been sitting on, dusts off the back of his jeans once he’s back at his full height. With a nod of his head, he gestures to your workstation. “Take what you need,” he advises quietly.

When he moves towards the door, you move forward into the room. Your paths cross in the middle, but Minho keeps his distance, too aware of that magnetism of yours to take any risks now. Upon reaching the door, he pauses and looks back over his shoulder to call out your name. As if you were anticipating it, you look up from the desk drawer you’re combing through.

He freezes for a moment, although he doesn’t mean to. You might be the only person capable of catching him off-guard. Once his brain stops lagging, he says only half of what he wants to: “Don’t forget your mask.

Hurriedly, like you really would’ve forgotten, you pull open a drawer and fish out a black gaiter, which you then tuck into the zippered pocket of your jacket. Instantly, Minho’s posture gets a little less rigid. Not for nothing, yours does, too.

“Thanks,” you sigh. The corners of your mouth raise slightly. From what he’s been hearing lately, this might be the closest you’ve been to smiling in weeks. Your reaction stops when you notice the way he’s halfway out of the room. “No need to wait on me. I’ll meet you in the loading dock in a minute.”

Minho stalls, feet unwilling to move, until you go back to gathering items. He nods once, as if you’ll even see his acknowledgment, then slips off into the hallway without you.

The loading dock he’s headed for is on the opposite side of the factory, but his anxiousness propels him there in half the usual time. His team is loitering around the two vans when he reaches them: one unmarked, one branded, both stolen.

Felix grins from the hood of the primary vehicle, where he sits cross-legged. He slaps his hands on the white metal below and proudly states, “I told you it would work.”

“Let me guess.” Minho looks over at Scraps. “You were the one who hot-wired them.”

She glances apologetically at Felix, then turns back to Minho with a shrug and a sheepish smile. “He tried his best,” she sighs. “If we had all day, he probably would’ve succeeded.”

At this, Felix’s grin droops into a cartoonish frown. “What do you mean probably?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Enough — and go put a hat on, or you’re getting a full balaclava.” He points to the mess of blue hair spilling onto Felix’s shoulders. “If your fashion statement gets us pinged on a security camera, I’ll kill you myself —”

A laugh rings out behind him. He turns on his heel to find Sierra snickering at Felix’s reddening cheeks, both tattooed hands covering her mouth as she does.

“— and you know better,” Minho snarks, pointing straight at her. “Gloves. Now.”

Scraps’ eyes are as wide as the moon when Minho swivels back towards her. She doesn’t give him the opportunity to say it; she’s already shoving her decorated arms into the sleeves of a plain, black jacket and zipping it up as high as it’ll go. He hears relief leave her in a quiet sigh when his focus finds who he’s truly been looking for.

A few meters away, Jeongin is buried so far under the hood of the secondary van that his feet barely touch the ground. With his target now acquired, Minho crosses to the neighboring bay.

“Well?” He demands, “Did you find them?”

The younger one startles at the sudden questioning; there’s a dull thud when he smacks his head on the underside of the hood.

Jeongin groans, “Aigo,” and carefully ducks his head until it clears the obstacle above him. His cheeks are pink and smattered with both dirt and grease — and the mess only gets worse when he mindlessly wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his semi-blackened hand.

“Behind the radiator on this one.” Jeongin then thumbs over his shoulder to the van Felix sits on. “That one was attached to the undercarriage, near the fuel tank.”

With a grunt, Jeongin exhumes himself from the engine compartment and hops to his feet. It’s completely unnecessary, but he drops the tracker he just detached onto the concrete and smashes it under his steel-toed boot.

“You won’t need the GPS blocker anymore, so make sure to turn it off,” he advises. And he clearly didn’t learn his lesson thirty seconds ago because he taps one of his temples, leaving a dirty fingerprint behind. “Otherwise, it’ll interfere with your comms.”

Jeongin then blinks up at Minho like he’s expecting a pat on the head.

Over my dead body.

Minho instead points at the shards of plastic littering the ground. Affect flat, he tells his junior to clean that shit up, which is the closest he will ever fucking get to you did good, kid. The second Minho steps away, Jeongin drops down to hurriedly scoop the broken bits into his palm.

While he waits on the rest of the group — namely you — to roll up, Minho busies himself with checking supplies.

The unmarked van will carry the backup team to a rendezvous point half a kilometer away from the Ulsan facility, just in case. For this reason, it’ll also carry the big guns, which — like the vans themselves — were nicked from corpo rats. The seats inside were gutted immediately to clear out a cargo area. The trip sure as shit won’t be comfortable, but six people and a few ammo bags will fit inside without much issue.

Most importantly, there’s enough room for Minho’s crown jewel: a goddamn, motherfucking anti-tank gun. He’s been dying to try it out since the WraithCo. raid that brought it into his possession, but he has a sinking feeling that he never will.

Moving on to the primary van, Minho notes the logo emblazoned on the side. This one was harder to steal than its counterpart, but you stressed the necessity, and he made it happen. Now, when the infiltration team drives up to the facility, it’ll be under the guise of the outsourced IT company that Ulsan uses for routine maintenance.

According to the data you managed to reap, Ulsan’s made two glaring security errors, likely because they assume they’re infallible — not handling their own shit in-house, and scheduling their tech contractors to pop by on the same dates every month. Both details were barely footnoted in the reports; anyone but you wouldn’t have thought twice about them.

Something twinges in his chest when his thoughts start wandering in your direction, so Minho shakes his head to clear them. It doesn’t work. Instead, it seems to summon you. You step onto the loading dock a few seconds later.

You’ve changed since Minho left the Hub. The lapse in time makes sense now that his eyes sweep over your frame. The black jeans you’re wearing now aren’t chopped halfway up the right side. In order to conceal that highly recognizable part of you, you struggled through the significant extra time it takes to get your artificial foot through the openings — and he didn’t have to tell you to do any of this, unlike the rest of the team.

It’s been so long since you’ve been one of the boots of the ground that he underestimated you. Clearly, he shouldn’t have because you haven’t skipped a single detail. The treads of your boots have been filed down; but the platform sole remains intact, concealing the brand and size, as well as your true height. Specially-designed black gloves cover your hands, so you can utilize whatever touchscreens and keys you come across without leaving your trace behind. Likewise, the gaiter you grabbed at the last minute rests just below your chin, ready to cover your mouth and nose.

His breath catches in his throat when he sees the long-sleeved black top hanging loosely and hiding your figure. He wants to ask if you remember, but he doubts you do. You borrowed it from him so many years ago that it might as well be yours now.

To stop himself from staring, Minho starts to address the group. “Now that our guest of honor has shown up —”

“We still need Jihoon,” you interject with one finger raised, gently asking Minho to wait.

“What?” Minho can’t keep the confusion off his face, and he can’t wrap his head around this curveball you’ve thrown. Incredulously, he scoffs, “It’s a covert break-in.”

There isn’t a single reason he can think of to include the demolitions expert in something requiring finesse.

You don’t respond with words; your eyes flick to Chan, which is enough of a hint. The two of you are planning something — keeping him in the dark about something — but Minho can’t figure out what or why. The leader doesn’t provide much in the way of explanation. All he offers is, “We need a driver and an extra pair of eyes,” as if that’s the whole truth.

Whatever.

The second Jihoon finally walks through the door, Minho immediately starts his briefing.

The main team — including you, Chan, Felix, Sierra, Jihoon, and Minho himself — will head straight to the facility. The reinforcements — Scraps, Changbin, Eunjae, Sunwoo, Hongjoong, and some fucker from Texas known only as “Cowboy” — will wait just outside the property line with range weapons, ready to party with any gatecrashers.

On site, Felix and Sierra will take out security at the gate; only two men guard that post at any given time. Meanwhile, you’ll slip in and disable the remaining security measures: cameras, mainly, although the alarm system is your biggest priority. To get everyone inside, you’ve cloned the badge of a mid-level researcher who, like the Professor, has authorization beyond the front desk.

From there, the interior group will divide into watchdogs and infiltrators. Given the relatively small size of the building, it shouldn’t take long to get you to the control room, where you’ll take a crack at the main computer housing the Beta’s program. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be in and out within 30 minutes.

Nothing ever goes as planned, though. That Ilsan mission was simpler with significantly lower stakes, and it was a fucking nightmare. Minho can’t think about anything else when he crawls into the back of the van next to you.

For over two hours, Minho has been sitting cross-legged on the floor of this godforsaken van. His brain, unlike his body, is wholly fucking incapable of staying still. No matter how hard he tries to ground himself, he can’t shake the chill running down his spine or the voice in his head. It just keeps repeating the same thought, over and over:

This van will be missing passengers on the drive back.

“It’s your turn, Minho.”

His head snaps up. Instead of Atropos and her scissors, it’s Felix staring back at him, smiling curiously. Warmly. Minho’s pulse should ease up at the realization, but it doesn’t.

He clears his throat, although his voice still comes out jagged. “My turn?”

“He’s asking everyone what they’re going to do with their lives when this is all over,” you explain. Minho turns his head to look at you. For once, he can’t decipher the look on your face. You laugh when you squeeze his bent knee gently, adding, “Don't worry. I didn’t have an answer, either.”

But it’s not an answer that he lacks, it’s time.

Don’t you know that I’m already dead?

The van slows considerably, shifting from paved roads to gravel. Then, it stops entirely. Jihoon turns in his seat and squints through the holed, metal divider between the cabin and the back of the van.

“Spider?” He calls out over his shoulder, and it’s no wonder he struggles to identify you. Everyone sitting in this unlit area is cloaked in black from head to toe.

To help him out, you raise your hand and wave. Even if the dark gloves you’re wearing aren’t visible, your smile is. Your voice is just as bright when you chirp, “Over here!”

Minho sees Jihoon smile for the first time in all the years he’s known him. If he was anyone else, that flicker at the corner of his mouth wouldn’t count for shit; but Minho’s no stranger to steel or your uncanny ability to bend it. He knows your impact when he sees it.

“End of the line,” Jihoon reports. “The next time I stop, you’ll need to sneak out the side. I can see a camera positioned directly above the security vestibule, pointing downward from the left. The van will create a blind spot if you stay low to the ground.”

Now, Jihoon’s involvement is starting to make sense. He’s one of only four people who joined the Black Screen within the last year — after the Ilsan disaster, which led to the incorporation of masks into all field ops. Out of the entire organization, his face is one of the only ones that won’t tip off the guards.

Until the next news cycle, Minho thinks ruefully.

Once the driver is satisfied that the passengers are on the same page, he turns around and sets the van back into motion. Every dip in the uneven road below throws your shoulder against Minho’s; and every time you collide, he wants to wrap his arm around you to keep it from happening again. He doesn’t. Eventually, the opportunity disappears along with the faint crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

The brakes squeak slightly when the van stops a second time. Minho can’t hear the conversation Jihoon is making with the security staff from where he sits, just the slow-motion movements of you, Felix, and Sierra as the three of you inch the side door open and spill onto the driveway like molasses.

All Minho has left to do is wait — for you to come back or for shots to be fired. His pulse picks up when seconds slip by without either of those options playing out.

It’s funny, he thinks as he pulls his rifle into his lap, that the thing bringing him comfort now is designed to take it away. His thumb hovers over the selective fire switch, flexing in anticipation. Any second now, all his best laid plans will explode.

It’s only a matter of time until —

“All clear,” comes your voice through static.

Minho flinches. In all the tense silence, he’d completely forgotten about the earpiece he’s wearing. The breath he’d unknowingly been holding leaves him in a hurry, taking the tension in his shoulders with it as he deflates.

“Meet us at the fire exit on the northeast side. I shut off the emergency alert system, too, so we shouldn’t have any issues getting into that stairwell.”

Jihoon is already pulling the van around by the time you finish speaking. In a matter of seconds, he pulls up to the door in question and shifts gears to park.

You’re standing in the doorway when Minho’s feet hit the ground, eyes crinkling when you see him with a smile he can’t otherwise see. He doesn’t know what to do with that, so he addresses Sierra first. She’s got blood on her temple, and Minho can’t tell whose it is.

“You didn’t make a mess, did you?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“This is business, not pleasure, so no.” She rolls her eyes. The sigh she lets out reeks of disappointment. “Wrung out their necks like chickens and shoved their bodies into cabinets.”

Glancing quickly at Minho, Felix figures out where his leader’s eyes are focused. “Not hers,” he clarifies, nodding to Sierra. With the back of his sleeve, he reaches over and gently wipes the blood from her face, like he’s cleaning gochujang off a child. “Didn’t leave a trace, though.”

That’s all Minho cares about, so he asks no further questions. Instead, he checks his watch before looking up to check on you. He doesn’t pose the question, but you answer him, regardless; and when you do, you accompany it with your thumb raised.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“All good!”

You then gesture with that thumb to the stairwell over your shoulder and ask, “Shall we?”, as if you’re inviting him to dance.

“You two —” Minho points to Felix and Sierra respectively, drawing their attention. “Station yourselves along the main hallway. If anyone so much as pokes their head out of a doorway, blow it the fuck off. No witnesses.”

Both nod in acknowledgment, but it’s not enough, not when your life is in his hands. He glares expectantly at them, waits in silence until they get the hint.

In tandem, they repeat, “No witnesses.”

Good enough.

Wordlessly, Minho waves his hand and sends them on their way to the second floor. He doesn’t budge until he sees the tops of their heads through the window, disappearing past the landing. Seconds later, Felix’s voice sounds off in Minho’s ear to advise him that the area is clear.

He turns back to the three people standing behind him to ensure they’re ready to move in. The second he sees the pistol in your grip, his stomach lurches so violently that he really might vomit on his boots.

It’s categorically fucked — so fundamentally, intrinsically wrong — that you’re standing here now with lethal force in your hands. Over ten long years, you’ve never fired a single shot in combat; never stolen the light from someone’s eyes while you’re staring into them. Still, no matter how nauseous the image makes him, the irony of it all can’t be ignored.

You only know how to shoot because he taught you.

“Let’s move out,” Chan says when Minho doesn’t.

Minho takes point with you close behind him. Behind you, Jihoon follows with an inexplicable duffle bag strapped to his shoulder. By now, Minho knows better than to question what’s going on here. He wouldn’t get an honest answer if he did; and Chan makes no excuses for it as he trails after Jihoon up the stairs.

At the top of the landing, you tap Minho’s shoulder, prompting him to stop. When you gesture up ahead, his eyes follow, gaze sweeping down the long corridor towards the southwest side of the building. Near the end of the hall, a pair of glass doors interrupts the path to the server room, which sits further down on an intersecting corridor. Somewhere between that server room and the bulletproof barrier in front of you is your target: the main computer running the show.

All the signage he can spot declares the area secure and for authorized personnel only. You’re neither safe nor sanctioned, but the badge you pull from inside the neck of your — his — shirt will let you pretend to be.

Lim Namseok, it reads.

That poor bastard will probably be dead before sunrise for the things you’re about to do. Minho doesn’t have any higher hopes for himself, but he wonders whether or not you’ll be able to sleep when this is over.

No, he ultimately decides. You won’t.

You keep glancing down at that man’s photograph, swallowing hard like you’re choking down an apology. Committing those features to memory, as if you’re obligated to remember each one of the creases in his forehead.

It’s not a question of if that face will pop up in your nightmares but when.

Minho’s both unwilling and unable to let you keep torturing yourself, so he shifts his assault rifle to his non-dominant hand and reaches out to you. Neither of you says a word as he gently removes the badge from between your fingers and lets the lanyard unfurl. You watch the ID flutter downwards until it rests against your chest; his eyes don’t leave your face.

“Come on,” he says softly. “There are fifty-one-million Namseoks out there that still need their asses saved.”

You don’t want to laugh. Your furrowed eyebrows inform him that you’re trying very hard not to, like your half-hearted glare will override the muted chuckle that slips through your mask. His attempt at levity worked, though. You start moving again when he does.

On the way to the first set of security doors, the four of you pass both of your lookouts, who’ve taken up posts half and three-quarters’ way up the corridor, respectively. Not for nothing, both look bored by the lack of action.

When Felix sees Minho, he complains, “Why is it always unpaid fucks like us who have to work on weekends? Shouldn’t these goons be here to justify their salaries?”

He’s not wrong. This place is a fucking ghost town, and although the datashard you combed through said this would be the case, the emptiness still makes the hairs on the back of Minho’s neck stand up. Whether or not he can put his finger on it, something feels off.

“Wouldn’t mind a desk job,” Chan muses, more to himself than to the rest of the group.

Minho leans into the assumption that he wasn’t meant to hear it. If he was, he’d have no choice but to point out that Chan hardly leaves his fucking desk as it is. So, to keep the peace, he keeps his smart mouth shut.

When several more meters come and go, the four of you reach the security checkpoint. With the badge back in hand and nerves evident in your tone, you hold it to the scanner and mutter, “Here goes nothing.”

Nothing is precisely what you get. No sirens wail, no trap doors give way to swallow you all down. The glass panels simply part with a click before sliding outwards along their respective tracks. Your shoulders sag with relief, unlike Minho’s. He carries tension in every single one of his muscle cells; and he only grows more rigid with each passing second.

To keep his pulse down, Minho counts each step he takes towards the control room. It’s an exercise in futility, of course. He’s a goddamn mess, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

16…17…18…

Present moment excluded, he can only think of one other in which he’s ever experienced fear. Real fear, that is; the kind that begs his limbs to lock. It’s no coincidence that he can barely function now. How could he, with the common denominator trailing behind him like a shadow?

19….20…21 —

Suddenly, you hiss, “Shit!”

By the time he wheels himself around, you’re frozen in place with your pistol aimed through a doorway that wasn’t open when he passed it. A woman in a lab coat stands there with her hand still on the handle, eyes doubling in size when they land on you. Immediately, the coffee mug in her hand drops, sending both liquid and shards of ceramic flying. Both of her hands are in the air before the pieces can settle at her feet.

You fire once, panicked, and strike her in the upper arm. It’s a shit job, one that’ll give her time to call for help before she bleeds out on the floor, so Minho’s instinct takes over.

“Turn around,” he tells you.

You do.

From her knees, the woman clutches her bicep and begs Minho to lower his weapon. She still wants to have kids someday, she tells him, sobbing. She’s too young to die.

Unaffected, Minho aims at the space between her brows. “Aren’t we all?”

Bang!

Her body drops to the floor like a bag of cement, lifeless. Although the shot still echoes, it’s otherwise dead silent until you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Stepping to the side to look at you, Minho furrows his brows. “Don’t be. We can’t leave witnesses.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t do it right,” you clarify, voice wavering but louder than before. “You taught me better than that.”

For a minute, he forgets where he is; loses track of the two people standing on eggshells behind you both. There’s definitely still a corpse lying two meters away, but all he sees in his peripheral vision is proof: You may have chosen this life, but this life hasn’t chosen you.

Despite the bullets and the viscera making a mess of the tile nearby, you’re still the person he met a decade ago — someone with the instincts to do what’s needed but too much heart to be swallowed by them.

He hopes you never change.

“There may be more people that we haven’t accounted for.” Chan’s reminder forces three pairs of eyes to focus on him. He urges, “We need to get this done. Spider, where’s the control room?”

With his gun and without a word, Minho gestures to an office several doors down from where the group currently stands. In giant, black letters, it states, “CONTROL ROOM”. Your answer would be redundant at this point, so you don’t bother giving it. Moreover, Chan can fucking read.

“Oh,” is all the leader says before the group presses onward.

You swipe the badge again when you reach the control room. As was the case with the previous door, this one opens without any theatrics. All four of you slip inside before they close on their own, several moments later.

As soon as he steps foot inside, Jihoon whistles. “Damn.”

Damn is right.

The room feels even larger than the dimensions he saw on the blueprints; and with the forced air flowing from the overhead vent, it’s far less welcoming than Minho expected. Halfway between an operating theater and an airplane, the crisp whiteness of his surroundings seem both sterile and stale. He’d wash the feeling off himself if he could, but he can’t, so his skin continues to crawl.

Consuming the back half of the room, a U-shaped desk boasts multiple monitors, keyboards, and switches. Minho has no fucking clue what any of this equipment is supposed to do — he doesn’t give a shit, either — but he sees your eyes go wide with that childlike wonder he’s always been stupefied by.

Your hands twitch, likely from a desire to touch every surface they can find, so you hold them close to your chest while you look around. After studying all the options at your disposal, you take a seat behind the monitor at the left end of the desk.

Jihoon asks what everyone else is wondering: “Is the main computer not the one in the middle?”

Normally, this is the sort of thing you'd laugh at. You don’t, though; you barely seem to have heard it. Transfixed, you simply mumble something about that computer being hardwired to the server room. Minho doesn’t catch the rest of your explanation, but he hears the words “temperature control” and “ventilation” before concentration makes your voice peter out mid-sentence.

The next few minutes pass by without you noticing. Nobody speaks, nobody breathes too loudly for fear of interrupting your train of thought. That’s not to say it’s silent; far from it. Your rhythmic typing takes over the room, and the effect it has on Minho is borderline hypnotic.

A siren song, sort of.

In response to its call, Minho’s mind picks up and races from the room you’re in — back to the Hub, where this all started; to the countless hours he’s spent just like this, watching you work. As mundane as those moments might be in the grand scheme of things, they’re still his happiest.

Maybe he’d count this moment among them if the Sword of Damocles wasn’t swinging so blatantly overhead.

Out of nowhere, you slam your fist down on the desk, startling everyone else enough to flinch. It’s not just the noise that has Minho, Chan, and Jihoon on high alert; it’s the fact that none of them have ever seen you explode like this.

“Goddamn it!”

Immediately, Minho rushes over to where you’re sitting. His eyes dart from your face to the screen, then back again, finding no obvious answers for your distress.

“What?” He demands, “What’s wrong?”

Eyes glued to the monitor, you continue to mutter, “No, no, no —“

“Spider, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on, so we can fix it.”

“They fucking —” You smack the desk again, like hitting something will knock your thoughts loose. “Fuck!”

For a second, you let the rage simmer. Then, the defeat you still haven’t articulated settles in. You slump down in your chair with your face in your hands, forcing your breathing to slow.

“They must’ve added it after the Professor defected. I can’t — It wasn’t referenced anywhere on that datashard, Minho. There was nothing.”

All your panic is funneled directly into the palms of your gloves, making it difficult to decipher what you’re saying. Minho leans closer just in time to hear you cry, “They built a failsafe.”

Minho is out of his fucking depth. In fact, he’s drowning.

“A failsafe?” He asks, “What, like a back-up program?”

“No, as in, any attempts to delete or alter the program data will invalidate the study.”

Based on your phrasing, Minho assumes you’re quoting something directly. Swallowing back the acid rising in his throat, he opens his mouth to ask you what the fuck that means. Before he can hurl his question out, you look up at him with abject hopelessness in your eyes; and suddenly, he can’t speak.

“All of their research subjects will be purged,” you spit.

On the other side of the desk, Chan and Jihoon exchange a look — a grim one, but not one of surprise. They’ve arrived at the conclusion before Minho can leap to it, and they’re still talking without saying a single goddamn thing out loud.

Minho can’t take it anymore. He shouts, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“If Spider wipes the beta, everyone with that chip goes with it,” Chan sighs. He scrubs his hands over his face until it’s red. “If they don’t drop dead immediately, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that their brains will be permanently and irreparably fucked as a result.”

Now what?

Minho’s legs grow less steady by the second. He presses his palm flush against the desktop to keep his knees from buckling. He knows damn well it won’t make a difference; his spinning head will bring him down if his body doesn’t. Everything — including the pulse hammering in his ears — is simultaneously too quiet and too loud.

What the fuck was this all for? The time, the energy, the lives everyone keeps sacrificing to this fucking cause — any of it.

All of it.

What’s the point of fighting this hard if Ulsan will always be ten steps ahead?

“Minho!”

His head snaps in your direction only to see that you weren’t the one calling his name. He blinks, confused. Who —?

“Minho, they’re coming! Lim Namseok — terminated yesterday. His badge — it flagged —”

Scraps’ voice comes shrouded in gunfire. The weak connection makes it even harder to hear her; whatever isn’t exploding is crackling due to the distance. Each word fizzles at the end, as if lit by a fuse.

“— to get out —”

Hand flying to his left ear, Minho presses down the button at the center of his ear piece. “Who’s coming?” He barks, “Scraps, what the fuck is going on?”

When she doesn’t respond, someone else takes over.

“It’s the fucking retention team. A sniper took Eunjae out before any of us even saw them coming,” Hongjoong yells. “They’ve got a unit on the ground and one in the air. I’ll try to shoot the chopper down, but you need to get out of there now.”

“Hongjoong, do as much as you can to tear them up, but don’t push your luck. If you’re outnumbered, fall back before we lose anybody else. Do you copy?”

He doesn’t get a response.

Jihoon moves closer to the door to listen for any incoming footsteps. Hearing none, he growls, “Who the fuck called the boogeymen? Don’t they only deal with defectors?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Chan waves him off, “They’re here, and we need to be anywhere else.”

Despite what he just said, the leader doesn’t move; doesn’t budge a centimeter in any direction. Chan simply glances across the room at you, and when you stare back at him, it’s with the same, eerie calmness. Some quiet resignation that makes no fucking sense under the circumstances.

“If I can’t kill the program entirely, I can make it inoperable long enough for the existing chips to be removed,” you say, like you’ve already had this idea in your pocket. “Force quit, so to speak.”

You don’t elaborate, leaving Minho’s frustration to drive him halfway out of his goddamn mind. Worse, you ignore the way he’s staring so fucking desperately at you and address the person standing several meters behind him.

“Jihoon, did you bring the party favors?”

In response, Jihoon slips the duffel bag off his shoulder and holds it out to you. Only then do you move. Chan follows behind as you cross towards the door; neither one of you says a thing when you pass Minho, who’s still cemented in place.

“What the fuck are you planning?” He demands, although his voice shakes. “What fucking secrets have you been keeping, and why?”

Once you secure the duffle bag on your own shoulder, you finally bring yourself to look at him. Above your mask, your eyes soften. They crinkle at the corners, as if you’re smiling, but there are tears brimming at your lash line, threatening to fall.

Please don’t look at me like you don’t have a future.

“For what it’s worth,” you start. Then, you sniffle, breath hitching as you try to get the rest out. “You’ve always had my heart. All of it — every stupid piece.”

And with nothing more than a nod to Jihoon, you’re gone, running out the door with Chan towards the server room before Minho can say a single word to you; before he can even think of chasing after you.

In the blink of an eye, biceps wrap around him like a vice, pinning his arms behind his back and gripping tighter with every kick he tries to use for leverage.

“Spider!” Minho yells.

He fights with all he has to break free of Jihoon’s hold, to throw one or both of them to the ground, to get to you, but the older man doesn’t bat an eye. As if Minho weighs nothing at all, Jihoon begins hauling him back down the hallway towards the fire exit.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he grunts as he thrashes. “Let me — go —”

Jihoon doesn’t say a word, doesn’t waste a breath, doesn’t stop pulling. Whatever strength he has left in the reserves, it’s wielded against Minho, not on making apologies.

Minho bucks again, throwing all the weight from his legs to his back. It does nothing apart from exhaust him, but he can’t stop. He’ll never stop.

“Spider!”

Close to feral, his anguished shouts devolve to desperate, growling noises. “I swear to god, I’ll bury you for this, Lee —”

He digs his heels into the ground to slow the older man’s momentum. His knees could snap at the force with which he’s resisting. He doesn’t give a shit if they do; he’ll crawl to you if he has to.

“I’ll splatter your brains against the fucking wall when I get my hands on you,” Minho spits. “I’m your commanding fucking officer!”

The next time he kicks, someone grabs him by the ankles to help carry his restless body down the stairs. Felix, judging by that pathetic, apologetic look in his eyes. Minho resolves to kill him, too, when he gets his limbs back. He’ll burn the whole goddamn compound to the ground for standing in his way; for letting you do this.

It should be me.

You’re the best of them, and they’re letting you die.

It should be me.

They’re going to stand here, watching while you —

A sob he wasn’t prepared for bursts out of his chest in the form of your real name. With it, his threats dissolve into pleas, so goddamn pitiful in comparison to the violent way he still flails.

“Please!” He cries, voice raw. Making himself louder doesn’t make him heard. Incapable of doing anything else, he begs, “Please don’t let her do this. She’s all I have — All I want — Goddamnit, please! I need to get her out of there —”

So useless.

“I have to get her out,” he sobs with one final burst of energy rattling through otherwise spent limbs.

The arms and hands around him still don’t relent. Over and over, he repeats his only thought in rapid succession until his voice gives out:

“I have to get her out.”

Two seconds before they drag his body over the threshold, the whole facility shakes, like the earth below has opened up to swallow it down. Even from the opposite side of the building, Minho can hear shattered glass hitting the ground like sheets of rain. With the heavy, black cloud swirling over the southwest section of roof, he might’ve believed in some storm.

He might have.

But now, Minho sees the flames licking at the sky above, and he no longer believes in anything.

There are 244 kilometers between Cheongju and Changwon. By car, the distance flies by in fewer than three hours, assuming the expressways aren’t clogged with corporate commuters. All things considered, it’s not a trip that disrupts a person’s day. It’s straightforward, and above all, it’s easy.

What isn’t easy is crawling on your stomach underneath a blanket of smoke, only to drag half of someone else’s body weight with you down a flight of stairs.

There’s nothing straightforward about slipping through alleyways and ditches, trying to avoid nearby police blockades as they pop up; or attempting to conceal clothes that are singed in some places and actively smoking in others.

That distance does not fly by in three hours, even though the expressways aren’t clogged, because there’s disruption after disruption:

Starting on foot, only to steal — and later dump — a car when the walk becomes unbearable.

Wandering blindly without a working mobile, unable to access assistance or a map, and learning that your best guesses are wrong turns more often than not.

Avoiding phones in general due to the localized surge in cell surveillance, knowing even a coded message could wind up with you and any recipients dead.

Stopping repeatedly with burning lungs to check on someone in far worse shape than you, pretending not to hurt for their sake.

No, the estimates are all fucked.

It takes twenty-one hours to travel the 244 kilometers between Cheongju and Changwon; and you feel the weight of every single one of them when you hobble through the front doors of the factory just to drop, exhausted, onto the floor.

News of your survival spreads like dandelion seeds throughout the compound. Within minutes, it seems, everyone you’ve ever made eye-contact with swings by the clinic to pat you on the back.

One of them — Sierra, of all people — does you the greatest kindness of all: bringing you a change of clothes and then refusing to stick around for a chat.

Half of them have never spoken to you before now, though you try not to hold that fact against them.

Almost all of them throw the word “brave” around like it’s weightless.

You know better.

What you did was useless in the grand scheme of things, and knowing that is heavy. Crushing, even, so much so that you find it hard to catch your breath. No, you’re sure, what you did was peak cowardice.

You need to get out of this clinic. You need all of these well-wishers to stop looking at you like some tragic hero. You need —

You push off the cot you’re occupying without giving it a second thought. The lightheadedness threatens to take you right back down again, but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes. You stay on your feet, even though you sway, by sheer force of will.

That’s it. There you go.

Doc gave you a once-over when you were first hauled in. Neither one of you truly felt like you were a priority. She may have been justifiably distracted, but in forming her expert opinion, she saw your bruised — not broken — body and declared you “good enough”. You take that glowing assessment at face value now and promptly discard the bit about “needing to stay for observation”.

Her primary concern is that you shouldn’t sleep with your concussion. Baseless, you think ruefully. You’ve been awake for two days and don’t see that changing any time soon.

Before you attempt to make a break for it, you glance at the far end of the clinic. There, a white screen stretches longways across most of the area for privacy, leaving two exits on either side. You don’t see the point of it; it doesn’t hide a thing. Two work lights shine so brightly from their spots by the wall that every movement in front of them is broadcasted on the thin, nylon divider.

As expected, the shadow puppet you’re looking for is still hovering around an unmoving mass in the center of the screen.

Chan.

He’s alive, even though he doesn’t look it. He’s talking, too, which is a marked improvement from the state he was in just a few hours ago. The morphine drip must be helping, you figure. Until now, he had a belt between his teeth to quell the pain, which would’ve kept him quiet.

Otherwise, there’s only one explanation for the corner he’s turned over the past few hours: The love of his life hasn’t left his side since he was carried into the clinic; and he knows she’s there.

You’ve learned the hard way that both of those conditions must be met to make a difference.

One without the other isn’t enough.

You can’t hear what they’re murmuring to each other, and you don’t want to. It’s theirs. Thankfully, their hushed tones give you the only confirmation you need: neither of your pseudo-parents will catch and scold you for leaving against medical advice. They’re oblivious; they’re fine; they have each other. You have —

Do you, though?

The person you want to see is coincidentally the only one in the entire compound that hasn’t come by seeking proof of life.

At first, you feared the worst; ripped your cuticles to shreds when the faces passing by weren’t his. No one mentioned his name or asked you if you’d seen him, as if there was no him left to see.

Then, you saw Jihoon walking around with his cheekbone stitched together. There’s some sick comfort in knowing that Minho at least lived long enough to beat his knuckles bloody. You’ve apologized to Jihoon three times now for the effect you caused, but he’s shrugged off every single one of them, like yesterday was just another day at the office.

Wasn’t it?

You creep out the door undetected and make your way to the nearest stairwell. The quiet throughout the halls in the factory isn’t comforting in the way it used to be. No part of the deeply familiar landscape is.

It should be.

It’s the only real home you’ve ever known — one you thought for sure you’d never see again.

But every empty doorway you pass may as well have a body in it. You still see that woman and her unspent aspirations everywhere you look. You still hear the way she begged for her life before she lost it.

And when the stairs ahead finally come into view — ones you’ve taken a million times — they’re insurmountable. Your body aches automatically, like you’re still pulling Chan’s phantom weight out of the fire. That memory is muscle-deep now, you fear. There’s no getting rid of it.

At the landing, you force yourself forward. The siren song only you can hear is far stronger than the call of your own bed. It lures you around the corner whether or not you’re ready to follow it.

You aren’t, you realize as your steps continue automatically. The guilt threatens to eat you alive, and frankly, you’re prepared to let it. You deserve it.

Somehow, despite your bullshit insanity and your numerous violations of trust, you still managed to skate through with a life left to live. Considering what you did, you figure it’s only fair that you pay this price — feel this fucking awful — for the rest of your unearned years.

Maybe.

You don’t know.

You’re in uncharted territory now because your plan didn’t include an after.

As your footsteps draw closer to Minho’s room, it dawns on you that you don’t have a plan at all now. You don’t know what the fuck to say to him, let alone where to start. You wonder whether or not you should bother at all.

If Minho knows you’re back at the compound, that means he made a choice not to find you. You have no right — none whatsoever — to take away his options a second time.

He’ll never forgive you, you tell yourself. If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same.

Maybe.

You don’t know.

You can’t take those hypotheticals and draw conclusions because Minho has never — would never — put you in the position you stranded him in. He wouldn’t hijack a mission you created or exclude you from a half-baked, shittily-executed contingency plan. He’d never force a friend to make some destructive, deathbed promise; wouldn’t have you dragged out of blast radius, kicking and screaming and fighting and spitting, just to drop you in a front-row seat.

He’s the best of all of you, and you did your absolute worst to him.

It’s selfish, walking up to his door now. You know it is. Despite that, you can’t make your body stop moving now that it’s started; can’t keep that boulder from rolling down hill. One last look, you tell yourself. That’s all you need.

Even if he never looks you in the eyes again, this can be enough.

You raise your hand and reach out to the scraped-up wood with your knuckles leading the way. They’re dirty, you note, caked with soot in every crease. They shouldn’t be. You scrubbed them raw to get the blood and plasma off your skin. It’s possible — likely, even — that your brain is fried beyond fixing, and that you’re imagining things.

Maybe.

You don’t know.

You don’t hear an answer when you finally bring yourself to knock. No, you correct yourself, that’s an answer in and of itself. Acting selfishly once again, you don’t heed that silent reply. You don’t knock again, either. Heart hammering against your ribs, you wrap your hand around the knob and twist.

Part of you wants to laugh. Of course, his is the only door in the whole fucking factory that doesn’t squeak horrifically on its hinges. His tolerance level for annoyance has always been low.

Inching your way over the threshold, you call out, “Minho?”

And once again, you don’t hear a response.

Standing now inside his room, you don’t see him — not at first. He certainly doesn’t see you. His back leans against the window frame while he slumps on the ledge, presumably staring off in the opposite direction through the glass. His defeated posture is as telling as the position he’s in.

The Minho you know never sits with his back to a door. It’s too big a risk and too broad a target; an invitation for a nasty surprise. He’s said it a thousand times: whoever kills him needs to look him in the eyes.

This is what it looks like when a person’s given up, you think.

This is what you did.

Throat thick, you call his name again. This time around, it barely qualifies as a whisper; all your breath is caught up in that tangle in your chest. There’s no way he heard it because you barely did. Really, you should —

“Fuck off,” Minho growls without turning around. “I won’t tell you a third time.”

His words don’t carry the same venom they usually do in circumstances like this. He just sounds hollow, and it devastates you so completely to hear the emptiness that tears start falling without your permission. You don’t move from where you stand, too overwhelmed to process both ambulation and falling apart at the seams.

The lack of footsteps tips him off to your ongoing, unwanted presence.

“When will you people give up? ” After slamming his left fist against the window frame, he pushes himself abruptly off the ledge to his feet. “I don’t want your goddamn sympathy. All I’ve ever fucking wanted is —”

He wheels around then, fists clenched and ready to swing. All the air in his lungs leaves him when he sees you standing there. The rest of that thought is strangled, and it drops lifeless on the floor.

“You.”

You can’t guess what comes next: screaming, blame, silence, violence. You don’t even know which of those things would be worst — just that he’s entitled to all of the above, and you’ve earned the lot.

What you end up with isn’t an outcome you ever would’ve anticipated. It’s him, his quivering mouth, and his exhausted, red-rimmed eyes taking several steps forward on shaky legs. It’s a desperate bid to close the distance, and a look built on so many conflicting emotions that you can’t even begin to take inventory.

At first, your hammering heart tells you to back away; that he may hate you enough to hurt you.

But he doesn’t.

He falls to his knees in front of you when his legs ultimately give out. Boneless, he crumples forward onto his palms until his head hangs low between his arms. From where you’re standing, it almost looks like he’s praying. That is, until you notice the way his shoulders shake.

Of all the people you’ve met in your life, Minho is the only one who seemed to be incapable of crying. Nausea swells now that he proves you wrong. It feels like a violation to see him this way, especially knowing that you’re the reason for the state he’s in.

Through a clenched jaw, he begs for answers you didn’t anticipate needing to give:

“I’m hallucinating, aren’t I? I’ve finally lost my fucking mind?”

Oh.

Without a second thought, you fall to your knees, too. Chrome and carbon fiber scrape against concrete as you scoot yourself closer, and you pray that your proximity will be proof enough that you’re here.

It’s not.

“I left you for dead, and now I’m seeing ghosts. Is that it?”

Heartbroken, you try your best to get through, “Minho, no.”

Tentatively, you reach out to touch his shoulder, thinking that you might be able to ground him, even if you can’t comfort him. Before your fingertips find him, he senses your movement and lifts his head. Your hands automatically reroute to claim either side of his face, fingers sliding into unkempt hair. To your surprise, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, Minho studies your features intently, like he’s ruling out translucence; like his sanity is on the line.

Maybe it is.

More desperately than you ever have before, you drink down the sight of him. Beautiful, you think, even like this.

Now that you’re able to see his face in full, you find it tear-streaked. Somehow less alarmingly, his right temple is scraped to hell and back, while his left is black-and-blue. It’s a perfect portrait of the fist that struck him. The darkest shades of indigo demarcate where the knuckles dug in deepest; and the scabbed, scarlet lines on his other side illustrate the state of the ground he fell to.

Gravel.

You have to stop yourself from asking who hurt him. After all, it doesn’t fucking matter whose name he’d drop. You already know who’s to blame.

Nevertheless, Minho sees the question in your eyes, and he tells you, “I tried to run in after you once the bomb went off. After the fire started.”

Of course he did. What did you expect?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, as if that’ll ever be enough. It doesn’t and won’t erase what you did, yet you repeat it anyway, “I’m so sorry.”

Opening your mouth was a mistake, you quickly realize. The dam breaks, and you can’t keep the words from spilling out. They all pile up, overlapping in time and urgency.

Every word you say comes out in one breath; sputtered, as if your head has finally broken through the surface of rushing water. “I should’ve told you about the contingency plan, but I knew you’d try to take my place, and I couldn’t —”

“I couldn’t leave you there,” he swears, as if you left him with any other choice. “Even if I was too late to save you, I needed to bring you home.”

Minho suddenly shifts, prompting your hands to fall from his face. To erase the distance he’s created, he sits back on his knees and pulls you into the space between them. You melt into his body when his arms wrap around you. Just as easily, you give in to the thousandth conflicting reason you’ve found to cry:

He’s never held you like this before.

With his cheek pressed to the side of your bowed head, you can feel his runaway tears. Though his voice wavers, his intentions are rock solid. “I fought like hell to get back to you. They had to knock me out just to get me into the fucking van. I didn’t want to leave you. I swear, I wouldn’t —”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t stop the rollout,” you cry. “Keeping you in the dark was the only way to keep you safe.” You bury your face into the front of his shirt and repeat it even more emphatically, “Minho, I’m so fucking sorry.”

For a moment, he stays quiet. As curious as you are about his silence, you don’t pull away to look up at him. You think you’d rather actually die than sacrifice a single second of the closeness you walked through hell and back to find.

Eventually, without prompting, Minho does speak. His voice is so soft that his question hardly reaches you. “Why did you do it?”

You pause, unsure of which part of your explanation he wants repeated. If he’s truly asking you to start over from the top, you will. You’re prepared to rake yourself over those coals forever, but you doubt he has the time.

“In the control room,” he explains when you don’t arrive at the point yourself. “You told me that you love me, and then you ran off to blow yourself up. Why did you leave without letting me respond?”

Once again, you’re thrown; so disoriented that you can’t find the starting line. There were several reasons for running out the way you did: fear that he’d stop you if he caught on too quickly, or that he’d follow before Jihoon could drag him to safety. More than anything, as you sheepishly admit, “I didn’t think you’d say it back.”

He goes silent again. His arms pull you even closer, though you didn’t think it was possible.

“I think Medusa had it easy,” he confesses, sounding almost self-conscious for the first time in his life.

Though you’re caught off-guard, you don’t interrupt him.

He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “I think my curse has it all backwards. I turn to stone when people look at me, not the other way around.”

At this, you finally unearth your face from where it’s buried in his t-shirt. His body goes slightly slack without your frame to hold him up; the look on his face is just as deflated.

Turning in your spot to face him, you frown, but you tell him the truth. “I’m not as good at reading you as I thought I was.”

“Say it again.”

You blink.

Minho lifts his hand and cups your cheek. “Please,” he begs, thumb brushing over your skin. “Say it again, so I can get it right this time.”

You lean into his palm, allowing the warmth of it to radiate until you feel it everywhere — feel him everywhere. From there, as is always the case, the reflex takes over. “I love you. I think I always have.”

“I love you,” Minho echoes emphatically. “And unfortunately for you, I think I always will.”

It strikes like a pickaxe, sending cracks through a well-built wall. You swear you can hear the pieces of it falling. If you look closely, you can see the light as it rushes in.

There you are, you think. I knew you were in there somewhere.

He kisses you then, scrambling your brain so thoroughly that you almost forget it’s the first time he ever has. But he’s no stranger to you, and he proves it. Calloused hands maneuver you into his lap without resistance, without interruption, and lean arms snake around you as you straddle him, pinning you against his chest.

In an instant, you thread your fingers through his hair, hellbent on clinging to whatever parts of him you can get your hands on. That desperate grip of yours has always made him lose his mind; tonight isn’t any different. He groans into your mouth when you tug those strands now, proving that you’re no stranger, either.

His tongue flicks over your bottom lip, like he’s scratching at the door to be let in. You let him, let out some needy, mewling sound as he licks into your mouth to claim it.

Yours, you think. Yours, yours, yours.

When he unexpectedly pulls away from you, those little whines of yours only get louder. Kiss-bitten, Minho’s lips flatten into a thin line that indicates he’s fighting off a smile.

“Spider, I know vulnerability is your thing,” he sighs. His left hand releases its hold on the bottom of your thigh. With it, he gestures to the other side of the room. “But did you mean to leave the door open for this?”

Whipping your head around, you confirm that you did not, in fact, close the door behind you. Heat rises to your face before you can stop it. No matter how thoroughly you rack your brain, you come up short. There’s no excuse— not even a bad one — for a cybersecurity expert being this abysmally accessible offline.

You’re in the middle of questioning your qualifications for the role you occupy when Minho gently pats the side of your leg, wordlessly asking you to leave his lap. With great difficulty and a dash of awkwardness, you do. Just as soon as you’re back on your feet, your body riots. All the exhaustion and soreness you’ve been ignoring screams for acknowledgement.

Minho must hear it.

“Bed,” he murmurs, punctuating his instruction with a quick kiss to your temple.

Also a first, you note.

Despite your long history of entanglements, you’ve never once ended up in his sheets. Your heart flutters involuntarily at the prospect; the fever-grade burning in your cheeks only gets worse. Thankfully, with his back now turned to you, Minho doesn’t see how eagerly you stagger towards the stolen bed frame in the corner. You hope he doesn’t hear the relieved moan you let out when you collapse in an aching heap on his mattress.

Across the room, the lock clicks. Footsteps follow so quietly that you would’ve missed them if you didn’t have his gait committed to memory. The person walking back to you looks unfamiliar, though — somehow. There’s no trademark sharpness at the edges now. There’s no want darkening his eyes, but something delicate that softens them.

It’s need, you realize when he comes to drape himself over you. It’s gentle, the way he compensates for your strained muscles and takes it upon himself to shed your clothes, layer by layer. And it’s trust, finally letting him see the way you exist on your own — with your artificial leg removed from the equation and set carefully off to the side.

After positioning himself between your thighs, Minho pauses. His forearms rest on either side of your head, caging you in against the pillow below. Time doesn’t seem to pass while he gazes down at you, and you certainly don’t mind the delay. Of all your moments, this one — here, with him — is your happiest.

“In case it doesn’t go without saying,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. “I forgive you for doing what you had to do.”

Blinking quickly doesn’t do much to dispel the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. You bite your bottom lip and nod to the extent that you can. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Do me a favor, though?”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me,” he requests, and you do.

When your mouth is finally on his, he rolls his hips forward with deliberate precision, length sliding through your arousal until he enters you, groaning. He maintains that slow, careful pace; coaxes you open for him until the stretch melts from pain to pleasure.

Eloquent as ever, you mewl with your lips still pressed to his. It’s muffled, of course, but there’s no context to miss. “Oh, my god.”

Once you acclimate to his size, Minho could ramp up the intensity if he wanted to. He doesn’t. He takes his time, grinds against you so perfectly that you’d never dream of rushing through this.

At this pace, every stroke hits deeper than the last; each languid drag of his cock along your walls converts more and more of your thoughts to static.

It’s such a change-up from every other time you’ve wound up underneath him. Part of you wishes that you could scrap all those trysts and pretend that this is your first. In a way, you suppose, it is. There’s a drastic difference between being fucked by Minho and being loved by him. For obvious reasons, you don’t plan on going back to the way it was before.

His length grazes your g-spot, pulling a whimper out of you. Dizzy from the sensation, you don’t notice the way your cunt clenches down on him until he curses under his breath.

“Shit,” he moans, “Wish you knew how perfect you feel wrapped around me. I swear, I’m not leaving this bed as long as you’re in it.”

Another stroke hits you exactly where you crave him most.

“Please,” you gasp, back arching off the bed. He leans in to capitalize on the length of neck you’ve left exposed; the heat of his tongue on your flesh drives you absolutely insane. “R-right there, Minho. Please, I’m so close.”

Other people have described Minho as defiant, but you have to disagree. He does precisely what you beg of him, angling each thrust to get you gushing around him. And even after he has you shaking underneath him, he refuses to slack off.

The orgasm he pulls from you is so overwhelming that you feel it tingling in your scalp, resonating down your spine until every nerve in your body is a live wire. You’re still somewhere in the stratosphere when Minho unravels, twitching and spilling inside of you until he’s got nothing left to give.

Spent, he pulls out of your heat, maneuvers himself carefully around you, and collapses at your side to catch his breath.

His eyes are closed when you regain enough motor function to turn your head his way. Across his forehead, stray strands of black hair stick to a thin veil of sweat. The slow rise and fall of his chest says he’s halfway to sleep, and with how hypnotic you find it all, you’re nearly there yourself.

Just a few more minutes, you tell yourself. It’s too hard to look away from him. You’d never had the chance to see him this way before, and you know better now than to waste it.

“Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles with his eyes still closed.

Your quiet laughter doesn’t prompt him to look at you, but it does spark the hint of a smile. “Like what, Minho?”

“Like I’m your future.”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

series taglist:

@saintriots, @mal-lunar-28, @dabiscrustyfeet @ldysmfrst @obeythemasters @moni-logue

stray kids permanent taglist:

@variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sourkimchi

multi permanent taglist:

@jihopesjoint @bahng-chrizz, @/variety-is-the-joy-of-life

resources used

regarding prosthetic limbs: tiktok users @/bren_hucks @/footlessjo @/alex1leg @/bionickick; amputee coalition regarding hacking + world-building: gurps: cyberpunk guidebook by loyd blankenship

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shanieveh · 1 year

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back to december 🌙 !

scaramouche x gn!reader | genshin smau

SUMMARY: you were childhood bestfriends with scaramouche, and with many unanswered confessions and one sided goodbyes, you both meet again, but now he wears a cold glance even turning agressive when his eyes wander yours, and it all came down the day he became the top of your class, beating you and rejoicing in success. his smile was because of your pain. maybe you could turn back time where promises actually never broke, and love was a beautiful thing.

GENRE: enemies to lovers, academic rivals, mutual pining, angst, crack, childhood bestfriends, profanity, suggestive

STATUS: [05. 29. 23] on-going

TAGLIST: open

PROFILES— reading club | late night drinking buddies

FLASHBACKS — flashback 1 | flashback 2 | flashback 3

01: how dare him?

02: ocean blue eyes

03: jealousy, jealousy

04: drunken words, sober thoughts

05: selling nfts to billionaires (not a scam)

06: terms of services

07: online therapist

08: stan photomath

09: slaying in the pain

10. the truth is hard, thats what she said

11: x and y aren't the same

12: before you go (emotional)

13: gacha club for intellectuals

14: if bad, why hot?

15: bermuda triangle

16: call it what you want

17: i can never give you peace

18: unsaid actions

19: i feel you forget me

20: i think i've seen this film before

21: how long can we be a sad song?

22: you're losing me

23: whispers of the wind

24: paint me a blue sky

25: letters to my beloved

26: maybe this time

27: long story short

28: memories bring back you

29: september night

30: you held your head like a hero

"dark clouds and stary skies, it was and have always been you... please don't leave us like this."

#scaramouche smau #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #genshin smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact smau #genshin texts #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #back to december smau

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nicxl333 · 8 months

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I've been seeing people going on about this nanami and tiana thing and I'm honestly so mad at nanami (I'm a jealous nanami stan please bear with me) I literally felt physical pain in my chest, can you please write something like reader sees this nanami and tiana thing and gets like really upset, the rest is up to you, but I want comfort.

(this is a very weird request. Apologies 😔)

thanks for the req anon!

bro…these tiktoks are actually killing me! (sukuna x cinderella is absolutely canon btw) of course though, it’s a weird scenario but i LIVE for things like these 💀

also i legit started writing this then i fell asleep and my phone DIED. so in other words i had to rewrite this shit from scratch again lol.

NANAMI X JEALOUS!READER

tags: fluff, married couple, slight angst, implied sex

hubby!nanami who returns home from work as the ceo of his famous, illustrious tech company

hubb!nanami who sees you on the couch, scowl present as you scroll on your phone, too immersed to notice your husband’s return

hubby!nanami who announces his arrival, walking over to hug and kiss you, confusion evident once you pull away from him with no explanation

hubby!nanami who voices his concerns, wondering what he could’ve done, then diverting his attention to your phone screen which has been turned towards him, seeing a ship video of him and princess tiana

“surely you’re not being serious right y/n?”

“deadly.”

nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how he should approach this peculiar situation. as famous as he may have been, he never would’ve anticipated social media spinning events such as these.

“so, let me get this straight. you’re mad, because i am trending, not of my own volition of course, with a fictional character that i have been shipped with?”

“precisely.”

“did i mention she is fictional?”

“fictional or not, i shouldn’t have to see my husband with other women in that lighting. that just means i have competition with the fictional world as well as the non fictional. as if i don’t see enough women pining after you day to day.”

“y/n, my love, how is a story character, who is married might i add, supposed to compete with my very much real and genuine wife?”

“so infidelity doesn’t exist now?”

he watches you as you slung one leg over the other, crossing your arms in slight frustration. even in your angered state you still look just as beautiful as the first time he met you, which is why he can never be mad at you, not for long anyways.

he loosened his tie slightly, sitting on the couch next to you and patted his lap, beckoning you to come sit. once you followed, he placed both hands on the crease of your hips, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. you allowed your head to rest against his shoulder, leaning into his touch.

“even if i could, which i can’t because she’s…well- fictional, she could never have anything on you. you complete me y/n, make me whole in areas i didn’t acknowledge were empty. there’s no person better suited for me, fictional or not.”

tears were starting to well in your eyes. yes, you did know you were being irrational, but hearing your husband profess his love for you time and time again just reminded you of the reason you married him.

you hugged him tight, kissing the crook of his neck.

“i love you, kento.”

he suddenly flipped you over so your back now lay on the couch. he hovered over you and looked you directly into your eyes, showing his seriousness.

“i’m going to show you just how much i love you. i won’t stop until you get the idea.”

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rubydracogirl · 3 months

Text

A short, angsty one-shot.

Stanley finds a distressed Reader. He's not good with words, but he means well.

Sometimes you just need to take a drive to process things...

Rated T, just in case.

"The Scenic Route"

It happened again.

Just when you thought you were in the clear, life took you by the collar of your shirt and dragged you through the mud again. The numbness of your heart hadn’t settled in- you still felt the stabbing pain of your anguish. Tears were flowing from your eyes- you hated them, you hated crying like this, you were so ugly when it happened-

No matter how hard you tried to hold it back, they dripped down your red cheeks and slid down your neck. Your nose ran and you looked down at your trembling hands. When would the numbness settle in so you could stop feeling like this?

The thought that someone would find you hadn’t crossed your mind. Least of all that it would be him.

“There you are, toots! I’ve been looking all over for you…-” Stan’s gruff voice trailed off as he noticed how hunched over you were.

You twisted away from him, trying to apologize, trying to hide your tear-stained face but he brushed off your apologies, silently walking over to sit beside you. His warmth radiated against your body like a furnace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. It was embarrassing enough that he’d caught you like this.

“Who made you cry?” There was an edge to his voice that spoke volumes of what he might do to the perpetrator, but you shook your head. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and you took deep breaths, trying to get control of yourself.

It felt impossible-

The weight of Stan’s arm wrapped around you and he softly murmured, “C’mere. It’s ok. You don’t gotta talk about it if you don’t want to… But lemme hold you, doll.”

You kept your face hidden against his chest, allowing him to pull you against his warm body. He was simultaneously soft and firm; one arm kept you close while he stroked your hair with his other hand. The comfort of his touch was enough to help you regain control of your breath and you finally settled down, breathing a little easier.

“It’s just… I'm so tired.” You whispered finally, the sting of your pain still throbbing in your heart.

His fingers faltered in your hair before he tilted your face up to his. You resisted.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You finally turned your face up to him. His dark eyes were like warm pools of amber, and you saw your pain reflected in them. His rough palm caressed your cheek gently, wiping the bitter tears from beneath your eyes. His lips twitched with indecision before he spoke.

“You and I both know I’m no good with this sort of thing. Besides, there’s nothin’ I can say that you haven't heard a million times before already… Whatever's bothering you, I can't take it away... But I got a car. Why don't we get out of here for a while?”

You decided that, yes, you did want a ride.

“Well, then.” He stood up, taking your hand. “What the hell are we waiting for?”

You let him lead you and with every step, the pain began to lessen if ever so slightly.

The Stanleymobile roared to life and you felt a flicker of exhilaration as you settled back against the seat. Stan passed you a tissue.

“Don’t worry, it’s clean. What kind of guy do you take me for?” He chuckled at the skeptical look you sent him before accepting the offering.

The car rolled from the driveway, and the world became a slow-moving blur of sweet-smelling pine trees. Stan flicked the radio on, and the wind brushed your face and played with your hair as he took you down the winding roads of Gravity Falls.

You knew, deep down, you’d have to face your problems when the ride ended, but for now, it was just you, Stan, and the gorgeous views that were passing you by. The sun set, rendering the sky with watercolor textures of orange, pink and soft lavender.

Not one more word was spoken between you and Stan during the ride, and that was ok with you. His presence was enough to comfort you.

You leaned back, letting your eyes close as you drummed your fingers with the music, swaying with the motion of the car, and inhaling the smells of the surrounding forest.

The chill of the evening air became a bit much, and he turned to look at you.

“Ready to go back?”

“No, not really.”

He chuckled softly.

“I know where we can go.”

The Overlook wasn’t exactly a secret spot, but it was still fairly private, and as Stan parked the car, you took off your seatbelt and slid closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you again. The edges of dusk were giving away to twilight. The sight was beautiful, and for a moment, you really forgot about your pain.

In that moment, all you could feel was warmth, and you glanced up at Stan. He squeezed you a little closer, his mouth pulled in an uncertain smile.

“You’re gonna be ok, toots.” He hummed.

“I know… Thank you, Stan.” You leaned against his broad chest. He shifted slightly, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head affectionately.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

#gravity falls #my writing #fanfic #Stanley Pines X Reader #Hurt/comfort #angst #Stan comforts Reader #Sometimes words aren't enough #sometimes you have to physically leave to process things #therapy through taking the backroads #implied established relationship between Stan and Reader #no specific reasons for Reader's distress are mentioned

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cherrybeartoast · 6 months

Text

Bleached Hair and Blue Ink Stars - Jeongin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Drabble ୨୧ inspired by retro teen movies

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: A bit of angst, fluff, pining, friends to lovers

Warnings: Don't think there are any?

Listen to: Ditto by NewJeans

Author's Note: I was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how my mum wants me to marry Jeongin (for the record, my mum is a skz stan and refers to them as her sons, but recently she swapped from a Chan bias to a Jeongin bias, recently as in yesterday lmao) and I found this drabble which was unfinished sitting in my docs! I edited a bit and finished it up...its pretty short, but gosh it made me feel things!

Friendship that lasted for decades came with many bonuses.

The bonuses outweighed the consequences in almost each and every way, yet so many still loomed heavily above you.

You hadn't been able to stop yourself.

Why couldn't you have just remained a normal friend, his best friend?

Why were you spending hours, analysing the simplest things that he did, things that made your heart flutter, scream, and slingshot all the way to the moon and back?

The way he ate the strawberry liquorice he loved so much; his pink tongue pointed and sticking out occasionally to brush his lower lip as he savoured the candy.

The way he'd drag you home with him almost each night after school, hand you a cherry cola, and you'd spend hours playing video games and talking and laughing. Sometimes, Jisung would join you, but those evenings you got Jeongin all to yourself were something you treasured. And sometimes, those nights would end with more than just you kissing him on the cheek goodbye. Some mornings, you’d wake up, sprawled across his chest, the ghost of his lips on your neck, and the aching feeling of missing something. The feeling that even if he held your hand all the way to school, where you’d enter class together and apologise in unison for being late, he could slip away oh so easily.

The way he had made a habit of sketching little stars in a blue ballpoint pen around the few freckles that dotted your arm.

You looked down at your skin. There were still faded sketches dotting your arm, blue ink melting into your skin. Ghosts of the drawings he’d done yesterday; disappearing but still very much so there.

Of course there were other girls. Girls who’d message him day after day, ask for his Snapchat, stick post-it notes onto his locker and cling to his arm in the hallway.

He tried not to pay too much attention to them; the occasional smile and ‘hey’, but never responding to their affection, to their endless babble.

Jeongin was made to be a high school crush. He had bleached hair with the slightest hint of pink to it, sharp, fox-like features, contrasting wildly with his soft, dimpled cheeks, frequently flushed with a peach tinge.

You sometimes wondered why he gave you the time of day. Jeongin, although he wasn’t necessarily the most popular guy, was known across your grade and even the years above. He was older than almost everyone in the year level; an early birthday had originally granted him a move up to twelfth grade, but he’d opted against it. His friends were all in the year above, and whilst he still sometimes sat with them at break times, he’d decided to go for you.

“He hardly sits with us anymore,” Jisung mumbled to you, after Jeongin had passed out on the couch, head in your lap, arms around your waist.

“I know. I keep asking him why. He says he sees you guys enough.”

Jisung looked down at Jeongin’s babyish expression as he slept, face pressed against your stomach. “Or he’s in love with you,” Jisung had reasoned, ruffling your hair and giving Jeongin’s arm a pinch before leaving.

You’d looked down at the pile of Jeongin lying before you; sleepy, clingy and oh so angelic. His features looked softer in the dim light, and his eyelashes fluttered every few seconds.

Every soft breath against your stomach made your heart swell, and you wished, just for a moment, that he’d say it out loud. Admit to it.

You looked down at your arms, admiring the faded stars again. There was one in particular, a little larger than the rest. It wasn’t really a star anymore. His hand must have slipped. You craned your neck a little closer, getting a better look at the smudge of blue ink.

A heart.

You breathed out a little, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered open.

You stroked his hair softly, hoping he’d fall back asleep, but he sat up, looking into your eyes.

You felt so overwhelmed by him, but in the most beautiful way possible. By his sparkling eyes and his sweet face, the soft scent of his skin, and finally,

His lips on yours.

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

Text

Flufftober Day 20 | Spooky celebration

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Word count | 2.2K

Summary | You moved to the U.S. not too long ago, and this year will be your first Halloween celebration there. When your friend Sebastian finds out you’ve never celebrated it, he's taking out all the stops to make your first Halloween a spooky celebration to never forget.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, Reader is Dutch but lives in the U.S., friends to lovers, mutual pining, use of pet names (Pumpkin, Trouble), flirting, very light angst, implied smut.

Prompt(s) | 20. Pumpkin | @flufftober

A/n | As someone who has never celebrated Halloween before (Hi, welcome to my side of the world 🇳🇱), I couldn't resist writing a Halloween story with some of the most cliché things because this would be my absolute dream. This is written for day 20 of my Flufftober 2023 Challenge, and I hope you will all enjoy this as much as I did when writing it 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @cafekitsune | GIF credit to the owner

Main Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

Ever since you told Sebastian you've never celebrated Halloween before, he's insisted on celebrating together and giving you an unforgettable first Halloween in the U.S.

That's exactly how you found yourself at his house this morning, decked out in an all-black outfit, combined with your Halloween sweatshirt that had Sebastian laughing loudly when he opened the door for you.

''Mornin' Pumpkin,'' he says as he pulls you in for a hug, and you can't help but fist your hands into the back of his Halloween hoodie.

''Good morning, Trouble,'' you say when he finally lets you go, though you wish you could have stayed in his arms for just a little longer.

''Ready to have the best Halloween celebration of your life?!'' he asks, and you're immediately excited. Sebastian's enthusiasm is slowly catching on to you, and you couldn't be happier to be here with him, having the best of times together.

You did feel a little bad when he told you he blew off plans with his other friends to be with you today, but what you don't know is that he'd much rather be here with you, the girl he has had a massive crush on ever since somebody introduced you to him a few months ago.

''So, will you tell me what we will do today? Aside from trick-or-treating, of course,'' you say, because that's the only thing Sebastian has confirmed. You both picked out a costume for tonight, but the rest of the day would be a surprise.

He looks at you for a second and contemplates telling you, but instead, he grabs your hand and leads you to the kitchen for your first activity of the day. ''Why don't you come along and find out?''

As soon as his fingers intertwine with yours, your heart skips a beat or two, and Sebastian feels a slight shock of electricity shooting through him at the feeling that makes him smirk in a way you can't help but love.

When the two of you walk into the kitchen, you can see a lot of different ingredients to make Halloween treats. He has also chosen some fun recipes to make together, which are nicely displayed on the counter.

''So, we could start by making some of our treats that we could munch on throughout the day. I picked many recipes from cookies to cake pops and some hearty options if that's more your thing,'' he says as your eyes glide over the ingredients.

''Oh, you bought peanut butter cups!'' you say enthusiastically and grab one to eat right away; these are some of your favorite candies you have discovered ever since moving to the U.S.

Sebastian already misses your touch as soon as you let go of his hand, but the way his heart flutters at the sight of you being happy with something as simple as some chocolate.

''What shall we make first?'' you ask with your mouth still half full, and the laugh that escapes Sebastian's chest sets your insides on fire. You secretly wish you could hear him laugh like that daily, but for now, you're soaking up every minute of attention he's willing to give you.

You look through the recipes until you suddenly feel Sebastian stand behind you, and your breath hitches slightly when he places his hands on your upper arms. You squeeze your eyes shut while trying to keep your composure, though it's not as easy.

''You can pick whatever you want to make, Pumpkin; it's your first Halloween after all,'' he whispers in your ear, and his warm breath against your ear makes goosebumps erupt all over your neck.

''H-how about some spooky cookies?'' you say, your voice slightly shaky from the closeness of Sebastian, though you're trying to convince it doesn't mean anything. You're just friends, nothing more.

''Sounds perfect,'' he says before walking to the counter and getting all the necessary ingredients; he'd already laid out everything, so it was done within no time.

The two of you have spent a significant amount of time in the kitchen by the time it's 3 PM, but you two have made a whole load of delicious treats, from cookies to cupcakes and from cake pops to Jello shots.

''Right, everything is clean, so what is our next activity?'' you ask, and you pop one more peanut butter cup into your mouth as you look at Sebastian, giving him a shy smile as you catch him staring at you.

''W-what?'' he says, his cheeks turning bright red as he knows you've caught him admiring your soft features.

''You're living up to your nickname, aren't you, Trouble? I asked what our next activity is,'' you say with a chuckle, and suddenly, it's like a light turns on in Sebastian's head.

''Oh, right! Pumpkin carving!'' he exclaims happily before running outside and getting the two pumpkins he picked out by hand, perfect for your first time carving a pumpkin.

He plops them down on the kitchen counter before running to his pantry, where he's getting two pumpkin carving kits—a green one for himself and a pink one for you.

''Here's your very own kit with everything you could ever need to carve your pumpkin,'' he says, and you happily take it from him before sitting on a stool by the counter, ready to carve.

When Sebastian takes his place next to you, you can't help but scoot your chair just a little closer, wanting to be as close to Sebastian as possible while still having room to carve. At that moment, a thought creeps into your head that you can't seem to let go of.

''Are you sure you'd rather be here with me than celebrate Halloween with your other friends? I know you said you're okay with just me, but-'' Sebastian doesn't let you finish your thought.

''Pumpkin, please listen to me when I say this, okay? There is not a single place in this world where I'd rather be than right here by your side. I'm honored to share your first Halloween with you, and I'm not letting anything get in the way,'' he says.

To emphasize his point, he grabs your face as he says that, and his hands feel warm on your skin, instantly making you melt into his touch. He brings your face to him before kissing your forehead softly.

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips press on your skin, and you can't help but smile widely. It feels like you've never done anything else, and it melts every last fear and anxiety away.

The rest of the afternoon is spent carving your pumpkins. Where you went for a standard jack-o-lantern design, Sebastian gave it a funny face, and you have rarely laughed so hard as you did when he finally showed you his result.

By the time dinner time rolls around, you're getting pretty hungry despite having snacked on some of the treats you made earlier.

''Shall we order some take-out and watch a scary movie?'' Sebastian offers, and you'd love to do just that.

''How about pizza? I wouldn't mind sharing one if you're up for it,'' you offer, and Sebastian agrees immediately. The pizza is ordered within less than ten minutes, and now it's time to get settled onto the couch together.

''I have taken the liberty to choose a movie for today, but I'm sure you'll love it,'' Sebastian says as he plops down on the couch, followed by you on his side.

As Sebastian places his arm on the couch's backrest, you take your place and snuggle into his side, a blanket spread over both your laps and your head resting against his shoulder.

''Are you comfortable, Pumpkin?'' he asks, and with a soft sigh and a barely audible 'yes,' he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing circles on your upper arm.

Neither of you had planned this, but as soon as you find your place, you're very comfortable, and Sebastian isn't complaining either. Well, except that he might be enjoying it too much. Thank God for thick blankets, he thinks to himself.

He turns on the first Saw movie, and it doesn't take long for you to bury your head in his chest, only looking out of the corner of your eye. You've never enjoyed these movies, though you're happy to have Sebastian as your protector now.

When the suspense gets thicker, the doorbell suddenly rings, and you jump up, shrieking loudly as you get scared by the sound, and Sebastian can't help but laugh uncontrollably.

''Asshole!'' you whisper shout as he quickly gets up and goes to pay the delivery guy for the pizza. You've already got two plates and drinks for dinner by the time he's back, though he doesn't seem even remotely sorry for his action earlier.

''You know you love me, Pumpkin,'' he says, but you can't help but get flustered as he tells you those words. You quickly turn your gaze away before sitting down, getting a slice of pizza, and getting ready to finish the movie.

When the pizza is gone, the movie is also finished, and you have found your earlier spot by Sebastian again, though this time your legs are lying over his, and you are very comfortable.

''We should get changed for trick-or-treating, Pumpkin. It's the most important part of the night!'' Sebastian says after the two of you just sat there in silence and cuddled for a little while, enjoying each other's company.

It takes a little while for the two of you to be changed and ready to go out together. You've decided to dress up as Hermione Granger from Harry Potter, and Sebastian has opted to go as Professor Severus Snape.

''You look outstanding!'' you tell Sebastian as he walks down the stairs after getting entirely dressed in the other outfit, so when you're ready, you two get out the door and on your way for your first-ever trick-or-treat experience.

It definitely did not disappoint, but by the time you're back, you are practically shivering from the cold, so as soon as you're back inside, Sebastian grabs you in his arms and cuddles you tightly until you're all warmed up.

''Let's change into something more comfortable, and I'll make a campfire outside. We can bring our treats and something warm to drink to warm up a little,'' he offers, and you happily agree.

''Trouble? Could I borrow some of your sweatpants? I didn't bring any since I didn't think I'd need them,'' you say, and before you know it, you're sitting outside with Sebastian, being warmed by the fire. He turned on some soft background music, and the evening could not end in a better way. Or so you think.

''Pumpkin?'' Sebastian suddenly asks, and you look up at him with curiosity in your eyes.

''Would you have this dance with me? I've always dreamt of dancing by the fire, and there's not a single person I'd rather dance with than you,'' he says, a red color creeping onto his cheeks.

''I'd be honored to,'' you say, and you get up, grabbing Sebastian's stretched-out hand, and he pulls you close. Your breath hitches slightly as your front is pressed against his, but you can't get enough of him. It will never be close enough.

The two of you sway back and forth; your head is resting against his chest, and you can hear him letting out a content sigh right now. The two of you stay like this until you feel Sebastian's hand move up.

His hand slides over your back and shoulder, softly caressing the skin on your neck before cupping your cheek and tilting your head backward slightly.

Your heart starts hammering in your chest as you see the look in his eyes, and his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and back up to yours.

''Can I kiss you?'' he asked, barely audible, but it was just enough for you to hear, and after a slight nod, you closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips press against his slowly, tenderly, and it feels nothing short of perfect.

He tilts his head to the right before asking for access by swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, and almost as if you're on autopilot, your lips part so your tongues can dance together in a passionate kiss.

A soft moan leaves your lips when his teeth nibble ever so slightly on your bottom lip, and you're already missing him when he pulls away.

''I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that,'' he says, and the smile you flash him tells him all he needs to know. He placed his mouth on yours again before leaning down and grabbing the backs of your thighs to lift you.

When he pulls back, he looks at you with a question in his eyes, and you assure him you want this, too. The rest of the night, you spend every last second exploring each other's bodies and making love until the sun returns.

You would be now if you weren't already in love with this man. Your first Halloween ever has also turned into your favorite one, and it's all thanks to Sebastian.

#flufftober 2023 #day 20 #rpf #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #seb stan #seb stan fanfic #seb stan fanfiction #seb stan x female reader #seb stan x reader #seb stan fluff

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l2vedive · 2 years

Text

I LOVE YOU (SJY).

PAIRING: sim jaeyun/jake x fem!reader

GENRES: includes smut (minors dni), heavy angst, hurt no comfort, slowburn, one sided pining, fluff at the end, friends with benefits, classic communication issues trope, university au

WARNINGS: smut, profanity, making out, implied alcohol use, smoking, semi graphic descriptions of smut (fingering, thigh riding, handjobs, cunnilingus, slapping), one line for dirty talk, reader calls jake baby a lot, name calling (bitch and whore directed at someone), jake constantly gets played, made up female character, jake is hopelessly in love with reader (pls get up), reader is a walking red flag invented by park jaeeon, cheating if you squint, one sexual joke lol, other idols have guest appearances (yeonjun of txt, isa / chaeyoung of stayc, mentions karina of aespa), heeseung doesn't talk much i apologise 🙏🏻

SYNOPSIS: in which yn and jake are in a friends with benefits situation. sort of.

WORD COUNT: 9320 words.

PLAYLIST: here.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: aaaand it's finally here !!!! this was originally written for itzy which is still published on my ao3 acc , however , i decided to rewrite it for enhypen to get over my writer's block rhksjdjed . i hope you enjoy it regardless <33 the dialogue jake says in june is from richard siken's masterpiece "crush", which i suggest you read because it is a very good book. jake stans this one's for you !!! :DD

TAGLIST: @help-i-cant-find-a-username @cherrybxmbby @woozisnoots @fairyofhee @asyleums @cha0thicpisces @aliensrme @enhygene-phen @slut-4-jake @princesjy @axartia

It's September when the papers on the desk slide down to the floorboards: the steel painted blue table is cold against your skin, almost burning you with intensity until Jake pulls you back up to his mouth by your hair, and has you pressed up on the wall just by his bedroom door. Jake's tongue smoothes over the fresh set of hickeys on the nape of your neck, your collarbone, your tits, and your chest bursts with fire with every touch and feel. It gets hotter when he hears the needy whines coming from you and, Oh my god, Jake thinks. I need to kiss her. I need to. Your jeans, that you never got to take off completely, are tangled by your feet and your thoughts stop when Jake slips another finger in, curling it just right.

"Fuck," You glance at the window over at Jake's shoulder, the light of your computer reflecting on the pane as the clock hits 12:00 AM.

"Hm?" Jake hums against you and it sends vibrations throughout your body, enough for him to hit the spot.

"Happy two years, pretty." Jake mumbles when he finally pulls away and puts his fingers in your mouth. The sight alone is enough for him to feel hot and bothered all over again as you suck off the boy's fingers. Jake smiles through his plump lips, smeared by your leftover lip gloss from when you kissed him earlier.

You hop on the beans of your toes as you get your jeans back up. Your bra's still hanging onto one shoulder and your shirt is nowhere to be found. The hickeys on your neck are still fresh and sore, forming hues of purple. Jake hands you his shirt instead. For you to wear and for you to take home to wear. (He sort of hopes you sleep in it too. Hopes you think of him before going to bed.).

You pop a cigarette in your mouth and he lights it up for you, leaning in close. His skin burns as the flame meets the hilt of his thumb and his heart sort of aches when you immediately soothe it with a kiss.

"Happy two years, Jaeyun," You say casually. "Do you have a wish this year?"

"None that I can think of," Jake replies. You watch, blowing smoke as he attempts to shrug a new set of clothes back on, running his hand through his disheveled hair. Out of habit, he moves to brush the strands of hair that might poke your eyes away before tucking it behind your ear delicately.

Jake loves you. Despite that this is always how it goes and not just everytime you celebrate your "friendship" anniversary.

Because with you this is always how it goes.

"Yeah, same," You say. Your eyes are dark and they're focused, playing into his. He knows. For as long as Jake has known you, you've always had one. And it is always a secret.

You always ask him first. So that when it's your turn to be asked, you can pretend. You can say no and end it there. Because that is always how it goes with you. You've got a habit of keeping skeletons in the closet even with your best friend.

But Jake isn't stupid. He always knows what you're up to. It's in the way of how you carry yourself after every fuck, how your eyes seem to lower and darken, how you don't fix up your hair neatly like you always do for school every morning, letting it fall just like that.

(He thinks you're setting up a metaphor for it. Like, you have this prim and perfect picture exterior to outsiders but when night falls, he gets the real you: unpredictable, messy, needy, full of want and unashamed to say it.).

Jake always knows.

He wonders if this is why you don't say anything. Jake wonders if this is why you always seem to hide from him, despite being friends since forever. He wonders why you look at him in ways he knows that would make him feel things, why you're picking up his shirt, helping him put it on, and giving him an open-mouthed kiss before walking out.

The bitter aftertaste settles on his tongue. "Please stay," Jake says. "I love you."

Instead, you hear it as, "Don't smoke and drive."

ii.

It's October and Jake doesn't dress up for Halloween.

But you do, and you are undeniably hot in a skimpy impractical security officer uniform, with a devastating amount of cleavage that Jake wants his mouth on.

Jake had never really planned on going tonight, but he kind of had to, because all his friends were going and you were definitely going. He really wished he hadn't though. His friends are long gone, flirting with the other partygoers left and right, and by the time he has reached the bathroom to pee, he could hear obnoxious loud moans.

He is considering going home and slipping into his bed to watch a movie until you emerge from the crowd of people, looking pretty, hot and sexy as hell. Do not fucking look at her.

But it's no use because you're walking towards him with a devilish smirk tugging on your lips. "Hey, Jae," you say. "C'mere." You smell like fruit punch and alcohol and you're too close for Jake to be at ease.

You promptly push Jake onto the couch, plopping yourself onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs on either side of Jake's. It's hot in the room all of a sudden and Jake's breath hitches in his throat.

You're in public. Where people could see you. You never do anything sexual in public.

"YN," Jake starts. "What are you doing?" His brow furrows, obviously confused.

"Shut up," Your breath is in Jake's ear and it's warm and tingly and enough for the hairs behind his neck to stand. For his cock to twitch in his jeans. Jake finds that his hands are gripping your ass.

Jake moves his head away to look around the room before looking back into your eyes. You have contact lenses on and he feels like falling into it. But he knows that by the time he has, when you approach him on campus tomorrow, you won't remember anything. It's blue and it's powerful and it's pulling him in. He thinks blue suits you. His favourite colour with his favourite girl.

Despite his hazy view of you on top, Jake is about to stop you and ask what you mean until you lace a fistful of his hair in your hands behind his neck and kiss him.

And even though you've kissed a lot, this was extremely different. For so many reasons.

For one, oh my god. You are on his lap, half-naked with your ass in his hands and your tits pressed up close, and Jake actually prays his boner doesn't build up a tent through his jeans. Second, you're in public. And third, you never had sex in public. At least not with him. But now he gets to feel the experience of doing so in your kiss. You are so good. You are so fucking good . Jake knows that you know what you're doing with every soft bite on his bottom lip, every flick and suck of your tongue dancing with his, every moan devoured by him.

He's not so bad himself and he knows it too. You taught him how.

You aren't finished when you start grinding your hips against him and Jake fights every bone in his body to move with you. "Fuck, YN," And it comes out as a hiss rather than a warning. You were too good . Too addicting .

It's even harder when he feels your hand fall back and in between you both, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, palming him through his boxers. "Come on, Jake," You say, but Jake feels like you're pushing him rather than asking. "Do you want this or not?"

So Jake lets you. For a second until he pulls away and is out of breath. His heart hammers inside of his chest and he's quick enough to get ahold of your hand, stopping you.

He moves to get up, pushing you off of his lap and embarrassingly, you stagger on your heels before falling on the couch. You don't say anything. And even though he's confused, you know he's pissed. You are too.

"I don't always want to fuck you, YN,"

"You're so boring," You say.

"And you're drunk," Jake replies, straightening his posture. Because when you got drunk, you were out like a mad woman. Between the two of you, he was the lightweight and that was actually how the two of you became friends; he was sure he could keep up with you the moment Heeseung had introduced the both of you to each other at his last house party, immediately taking an interest in you. Long story short, he liked you and you liked having him for company, and it just snowballed from there.

But for now, his mind is racing and his clothes suddenly feel tight on him—and no, it's not because of his boner—worse, his throat almost chokes up when he hears: "I'm sober."

"I don't care," I do. I care so much. "I can't let you do this."

Suddenly, you get up, your faces in close proximity. Jake feels like it’s just the two of you in the room and if that were the case, he would've already screwed you all over the couch himself.

"You want to fuck me, Jake," You say lowly. Your face is stone cold and it almost feels like you're challenging him. (You are.). "I know you do."

Jake shakes his head. He looks at you and swallows. You almost allow yourself to break down all your walls for him with the way he's staring at you.

"Come on, Jaeyunie," You press, the cute tone hanging off the nickname you give him. "I know you want to." You giggle as you curl your finger around one of his belt loops, tugging him closer.

Your voice knocks him out of his windpipe and it's enough for him to know that he's failed from holding himself back. From getting mad at you.

"I do," Jake manages. "I love you, let's stop this. Let's go home."

But he says it like this: "No, I can’t do this tonight." And turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

iii.

It's November and it's raining.

You're all gathered around your living room, watching a horror movie that Jake knows he won't be paying attention to.

It's dark with all the lights off and it's creepier with the faint sounds of raindrops hitting the backyard's porch. There are only two sources of light, however. One from the television where Scream plays and another is from Jake's dimly lit side where you seemed to be texting under the blankets propped over the both of you.

It's quiet most of the time, except for the occasional bickering from Sunoo, who teases Jay for his reactions, and you look bored throughout the film. Jake is, too.

He is about to lean over and make a funny comment about the scene that was currently rolling on screen but he catches a glimpse of your screen and immediately, he feels guilty for looking. Because right there on your screen are messages between you and god knows who, and a picture of you almost topless.

And suddenly, you excuse yourself, phone in your hand before heading down the hallway to the bathroom. Jake doesn’t move, wondering if you knew he was looking. Instead, he waits and settles that you probably had an emergency to take care of.

It's been fifteen minutes and Jake grows worried. By now, almost everyone has fallen asleep and you still haven't gotten back from the bathroom.

Quietly, Jake tiptoes away from his position and instantly jogs down to the bathroom. It's silent and his heartbeat is loud in his ears; he's not sure why he's nervous. "YN?" He calls out. Nothing.

To his surprise, there's no one inside and the door is unlocked for her to look. It's empty and Jake swallows thickly. Once, twice and third is the hardest as he starts to panic. Where did you go?

Immediately, Jake heads upstairs to search for you in one of the rooms. He heads to yours first and it's locked. "YN?" He questions, knocking on the door. He can hear shuffling and movements, and Jake doesn't know what to think of.

"YN!" He raises his voice slightly, afraid not to wake the others up as he slams his hand against the door. No oxygen. No oxygen. It’s heavy, he's aching, his heart is a mess. Breathe, Jaeyun. Breathe . Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Breathe, Jaeyun. Fucking breathe.

The door swings open and he sees you half-naked in bed. In front of you, is Heeseung shuffling to get his pants up. Jake's eyes dart back and forth and the older boy slides behind him.

You say nothing at all as you sit up and put your hoodie back on.

"Hey, man," Heeseung says, but it comes out as a question. "I actually have to be somewhere else right now. See you, Jake." He's gone before Jake could reply.

Frozen, Jake doesn't say anything. It takes him a moment to process what just happened.

"I—," He starts. There is so much that he wants to say but nothing comes up. He feels dizzy almost and his nail beds are bloodied from piercing them into his skin. He releases when he feels your lips on his.

Your lips are soft and it's sweet, and it's nothing he's used to. He's so confused, god, you were so confusing. "I'm sorry," Jake blurts out, because nevertheless, he still loves you. So much.

"Don't be sorry, baby," You say fondly. "You got me." But I don't , Jake thinks . I don't get you. I can never have you.

His eyes are closed when he allows you to kiss him. To touch him so softly and whisper sweet nothings that he knows he'll never stop thinking about when he pictures your hand as his own when he gets himself off at night.

Jake knows that his friendship with you is unusual. You both know it. You turn up every day if you can, allow him to finger you until you're crying and writhing your hips, let him use your mouth on his cock in return until his entire body is rattling with aftershocks by the time he comes. You seem to get whatever you seem to want from him, and stupidly so, Jake allows you.

He loves you. And you hate him. He knows you do.

Jake breathes hard, and he's kind of embarrassed by how easy it is of him to completely melt under your touch. How easy it is for him to get turned on until he gets so primal, lust clouding his head and pulsing his veins. He suddenly realises your positions have switched as his back hits the duvet and he's tangling his hands into your hair, hands brushing down to tilt your chin and have you look at him in the eyes.

You giggle and teasingly untie the laces of his sweatpants, brushing your fingers softly near the areas Jake wants your hand to touch and more, trailing a teasing path that only makes him needier and harder than he already is. Your hand travels down his abdomen, carefully advancing its way into his boxers as you begin to pump his cock. Hot and spilling with pre-cum in the middle of his hips.

"Please kiss me again," He chokes out. "Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like you love me, even if it's just for tonight."

You hear it as: "Fuck, YN. Keep going, please."

It's chaos .

iv.

It's December and you have a boyfriend. And it's every December, every year that you have a boyfriend.

Jake is trying to busy himself with the nape of your neck and the way he breathes fans in your hair like he's tired. He is so tired.

You recognise it and kiss him more intensely, shoving him against the car window. Jake feels it and draws back, the taste of your cherry flavoured lip gloss lingering in his mouth, weighted on his tongue like a stray "I love you" caught between his teeth. You attempt to get Jake back into your hold, your hand sneaking underneath his hoodie, but Jake opens his eyes.

"Come on, Jaeyunie, we only have tonight."

"I don't want to do this anymore." Jake says.

You constantly keep the air conditioner on full throttle and never care about anybody else, except when you take what you want from them, and Jake is so fucking sick of it. You are self-centred and a cunt, and it takes it all out of him to not push you away again when you come leaning forwards, kissing him everywhere and pulling his hoodie up. Selfish, insistent, oblivious, insensitive.

"Can you stop?" Jake says, scooting back to the seat. "I'm so tired of this."

The car engine revs up and the lights flash for a second, igniting color into the dark neighbourhood. You hesitantly step on the gas pedal. "What's wrong, Jake?"

"I'm right here, always," Jake says. "I'm right fucking here, in front of you, next to you, and yet you don't see it. You never think of anyone else, YN. It's always about you."

You drum your fingers against the steering wheel and switch on your turn signal. There's another cigarette hanging on your lips. You drive down the lane and into the main road. You're going to drive in circles and it's a perfectly sick metaphor. (Another one to add in Jake's book.).

When the green lights come on, you pull slowly with the brakes and come to a dead stop at the yellow lights, constantly waiting for the red lights and stop signs so you can reach over the armrest and kiss him again.

"You know that's not true, baby."

"Stop that," Jake reprimands. "You know it is."

You take a drag and exhale out the smoke, not bothering to roll down the windows. You glance behind him in the street among the smoke and briskly pull over. "What the fuck is your problem today?" you ask, turning to him.

"Forget about it." Jake says. His skin stings where you've bruised him with your teeth. Where you've touched him. Where he pretends to say it hurts when he's screwing other girls so they won't touch him there. Won't touch him where you've marked him. He feels sick.

"Do you want to talk or are you going to leave?" You shuffle, rolling down the window and throwing out your cigarette. You're angry, Jake can see it.

"Do you have feelings for him?" Jake finally says. His voice embarrassingly breaks in reaction to the question, making him want to leave, walk away, throw up, and cry. You've barely made it back to the block.

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. "Fucking hell."

"Just answer the question, YN." Jake replies.

"Of course, he's my boyfriend. You're my friend."

"Yeah, no shit, I am!" Jake says a little too loudly, sitting up and staring up at the mirror he's pulled down earlier. He's laughing and it's sour when he says: "God, you weren't kidding when you said you had an amazing sense of humour, were you?"

"Get out." You say. Your voice is so low Jake doesn't recognise you.

Jake pales and he's as white as your knuckles, grip tight on the steering wheel. "What?"

"You heard me, Jake. Get out of my car."

Jake reaches over for a kiss, trying to get you to kiss him again and forget about it. Trying to get you to fuck him over, and all over just like how he does when he fucks you until you both can’t think of anything other than each other's names.

You nod your head. "I gave you two choices. You chose this."

"No, I chose you," Jake seethes, suddenly angry. "I always, always fucking choose you."

"It's not like I asked you to." You snap, closing your eyes. You're too defeated, too tired of Jake's antics.

Heartbeat ringing in his ears, Jake falls back down on his seat. "You're unbelievable," He says. "I can't believe you."

You say nothing at all. It's quiet and it's too long until you turn the car off.

Jake stares at the road ahead of you. "I love you, I didn't mean it," he says.

He says it in this way: he puts his hoodie back on, pulls on the lock and pushes the door open, he gets out and slams it closed.

He cries the whole walk home.

It's still December when you're sprawled all over Chaeyoung's bed, watching the other girl type away her essay due upside down.

"You know, YN, someone called me baby the other day,"

You hum in response. "Yeah?" You ask, sitting up and lying on her stomach. "Who was it?"

"Some boy I kissed at Jimin-unnie's Christmas party."

The Christmas party in question is nothing special, just a gathering of friends at Yoo Jimin's place, at least that's what you remember Jake telling you over the phone. Jimin's Christmas parties were a hit and you knew how crazy it usually went. Her Halloween party that you attended last month too (the same one where you and Jake had a confrontation, the one that you remember, the one that always replays at the back of your head), proved how truly popular the girl was.

Parties were usually your setting. You hung out with most of the popular crowds for this reason. You liked going out, dressing up and having the adrenaline rush kick in your body's system as the loud music booms in your ears and colourful lights wash over you and a bunch of other dancing bodies. You lied to Jake on the phone, laying out those reasons for your shitty excuse not to go. Besides, you weren't really interested in partying and dancing after what happened that night with him. You learn from Sunoo the next day that Jake didn't go either.

"Well," You start. "Jake calls me baby too." You say it like it's nothing and Chaeyoung immediately turns around.

Chaeyoung looks like she's choking down a laugh until she realises you're not following it up with something else. "Like, as a joke right?"

You stop drawing invisible stars on the girl's bed sheets, delaying a response. "Jake calls me baby. Only he calls me that," Your voice lowers down to a whisper, so fragile that it breaks. (A crack in the walls.). "I do too. When we're fucking around."

Chaeyoung blinks at you. "But you're his friend."

"I am. We're friends," You reply, sighing. "I know that."

"Well, if one of you likes the other—I'm assuming it's the both of you , by the way," Chaeyoung hesitates with the way you're blatantly staring at her. "Why won't either of you say anything about it?"

"Because I can't do that. We're strictly friends. You know me, Chae, I can't just change what we have. It's a bit more complicated than that." You're frustrated and you know you have no right to be for the way you've treated him. For the way you're still treating him. It's not complicated, you think. He's a teenage boy and you're a girl.

You're LN YN.

You always had things figured out.

Girls are always supposed to have the upperhand with these kinds of things. You learned this the hard way when Chaeyoung had called you during graduation night in high school when she had let her guard down and had a boy shatter her. You’ve always been protective of her; the same kind of energy had channelled into the way you’ve had your situationships, never spilling more than you let on.

You sit in silence for a few more seconds and Chaeyoung clears her throat, saying she has to get back to her work. Before you allow her to continue, you say: "I'll say it. I'll tell him I love him too."

You pronounce it as, "I'll be off. Good luck on your assignment, take a break when you can." before getting your stuff, heading out the door and downstairs, and finally leaving.

It's January when Jake opens the front door and sees that you're parked on his driveway, leaning against your car. You both stay a good ten feet away from each other until you say: "Happy New Year, baby."

And Jake smiles, falling in love all over again, feeling ecstatic with the sudden rush of euphoria in his body. It's the summer-like smile, warm and nice, that shows you're being sincere. You walk over to him and tug him down by balling his white shirt into your fist, kissing him and smiling.

"YN," Jake says. There's an edge in his voice that makes him feel unsure, despite wanting you then and there. "People can see us. We're in public."

The smile on your face widens and it makes Jake's heart hurt. God, she is so beautiful.

"Let them see. I don't care." You kiss and kiss, Jake pulling firmly on your shirt (his shirt) until you push yourself onto him and he walks you backwards into the house. Jake manages to kick the door shut with his shoe, mouth still on you as he drives you to the edge.

"Jake," You say as he runs his hands up your back, clutching you close to his chest. His heart. His face, pressed into the comforting skin between your neck and collarbone.

"Yeah," He says, more like a sigh.

You don't remember what you were going to say. " Shit , Jake, I—,”

Jake has his thigh locked in between your legs, pressing onto your core. The scene between you two is prodded perfectly against his warm skin. You can't think. You can't think at all.

Jake feels you grinding your hips up and down, rubbing your clothed cunt excruciatingly slow on his thigh and right over his crotch which earns him a mewl from you. Your eyes are closed, and your fingers have found its way under his shirt, nails clawing into his back.

"Jesus Christ, YN ."

Your eyes flutter slowly, and you see Jake appearing more flustered than you've previously seen him. His eyes are filled with astounding desire. "Shut up and kiss me," You say.

And because Jake loves you, he does. Over and over and over again.

vi.

It’s February and there are roses and pink balloons everywhere. It's Valentines' Day.

There are couples kissing and holding hands in the hallway and all Jake can do is lean by his locker and watch. But not in a creepy, stalkerish way, in a way that he sort of pictures you and him like that, and pretend that you both could be like normal people and have a normal relationship.

He's about to turn away when he sees you. You, hand in hand, with your boyfriend, Lee Heeseung. His best friend.

You walk right past him, not batting an eye at him; not even a smile. Because this is always how it goes. It's always like this with you.

You were expressionless yet Jake could see right through the façade, and he knows that the reason why you never look at him is because the moment you do, you lose.

Jake prays to his lucky stars that you do. Because he loves you. God , does he love you. He always will.

It's still February. It's raining again.

You're over.

You've been over a lot recently, every other day, every Friday. Not to fuck though, which Jake finds weird. Usually, you only ever come over to: A) Fuck each other's brains out and have him fuck you until you're sore in all places, and B) Make him cry; whether the context is him hopelessly trying to get you to fall for him or to abruptly leave to "have to be somewhere else", knowing you say it like that to try and not to hurt his feelings. Jake never knows. You only ever come over for your sexual arrangements and nothing more.

He prompts himself to think nothing of it, taking it as a good, little surprise for himself, and asks you if you wanted to do anything specific.

"It's your house," You say casually, sliding your phone into your back pocket. "Do you wanna do anything tonight?"

Jake stares at you, reading your face and looks for any signs that show disinterest. You smile, warm and tingly that it's fuzzy in Jake's stomach, as if to let him know that you'll stay regardless.

Another surprise: you make an effort and allow him to make an offer without implying a second.

Jake declares tonight is different and asks you if you want to watch a movie, to which you respond "yes" before suggesting that you head to Jake's bedroom once the movie ends.

So tonight is different, indeed. Tonight he has you cuddled up to one of his plushies on the couch with five metres to spare as Patch Adams plays on the screen. You're not touching, in any way, because you intricately hold yourself off from Jake unless it's in a state of undress, positioning your bodies so that non-sexual contact is non-existent.

It hurts only a little.

You both are friends but that is never how it is between you and him. Truthfully, it hurts.

Halfway through the movie, you have fallen asleep while Jake stays awake to finish as he watches Patch graduate to receive his Doctor of Medicine and bow to his professors and the audience. Occasionally, his eyes dart over to you, whose breathing is quiet and beautiful as your chest rises and falls with your hair sprawled messily on the pillows.

He wants to reach out, hold your hand, touch you, and fit into the perfectly good space between the two of you and lay his head on your shoulder, because, logically speaking, you have had your tongue on his dick and Jake has reciprocated with his on the apex of your clit, and you've seen each other naked countless of times, and all of your fingers have mapped out the pleasures of the others' genitals, but it doesn't work that way.

Jake knows it. For a long time, since the day he has agreed to this illicit affair that you have proposed, he has.

But you're right there, asleep next to him, and the love bite on your collarbone isn't from him, so there’s no point in keeping score.

Jake falls asleep a little later, the words, "Please love me like I do with you," on his lips.

In the morning, it comes off as him cooking breakfast for the two of them and you walking up to him to give him a kiss. You both know where this is going and he lets it happen.

vii.

It's March, and you're over again.

Mostly for good things.

You sometimes do homework together, cook dinner and breakfast together, depending if you stay over, watch Netflix when there's nothing tolerable on the television, and talk about other things that aren't about asking if the other could cum or not.

Jake isn't used to this, but it is something he could get used to. A few weeks ago and years before that, there were rules, obvious rules that you had laid out right from the start.

You still have sex. Just not all the time. It's every Friday that you plan out all the things for you to do other than sex. It's every Friday that you're over at Jake's house to do couple-y stuff and it makes Jake laugh. She has a boyfriend , he reminds himself. You're just a friend. His feelings don't matter to you.

Sometimes Jake wonders if you only ever see him as somebody to screw, nothing more than a fuckbuddy , telling him you're friends just to keep him around. He's not delusional, of course. He could be if he wanted to, or tried, but he also knows that you can't love him like he does and that's okay.

So right now, you're sitting by the kitchen counter, working on some English assignment. There isn't a lot of work going on, to be honest. You've been playing footsie under the table for the past hour, smiling until your cheeks are rosy and until eye smiles have come out of hiding.

It stops when Jake's phone vibrates to the tune of his ringtone, the default iPhone melody; it's distracting and he has no choice but to take it.

"Hello?" He asks into the phone.

You watch as Jake goes from unsure, nail biting, eyes darting to you for approval of some sort, and finally away to lips parted slightly, blush cheeks and bright smiles.

"I guess, I'll see you then." Jake says, tapping his nails on his textbook. He lets out a laugh before ending.

You don't skip a beat. "Who was that?"

"Jiyoon from—, "

"Dance? Yeah, I know her. She’s a bitch."

"She's pretty chill." Jake replies, eyes squinting as he fixates on the polaroid taped on the wall above his desk.

"Is she really?" You say. You haven't looked away, not once, and it makes Jake slightly nervous.

"Well, how do you know she's a bitch?" Jake quips. "She's actually nice, you know. She hugs me whenever she says hi."

You snort. "That's because she likes you, Jake. Like, romantically."

"What is going on with you?" Jake gets straight to the point. Whether you know it or not, he did notice all the staring from when he was on the phone. It's sort of pissing him off that you're getting so hostile about it when you literally have a boyfriend of your own.

"You're going to her stupid party then, aren't you?" You ask. By now, you've turned your chair to the side, your leg crossing over the other and closing your notes to talk.

"She invited me, of course,"

"And how do you know her?"

Jake laughs. He laughs because you're being ridiculous. He feels like he's sitting for interrogation by his older brother after he caught him coming back home at the dead of night at 3 am once.

"She lives on the next block, YN. We were friends in high school. She's nice to me and she's a good person." Jake shifts in his seat to return to his assignment, hoping you would drop it.

But you aren't finished. Jake can feel you burning holes in your head and the intense clicking from your pen is slowly getting to him.

You're asking too many questions: "Have you seen her?" , "Don't you know that she almost broke my leg during practice because she wanted the center position?" , "Do you really want to go?" Shut up. Shut up. Shut up . Each of them, and he knows you're only doing it to get to him.

And finally: "Are you going with her because you want to know what else she's good at, Jake?"

"Can't you just," Jake harshly slides his chair back, the steel leg screeches against the tiles of his marble floor. "Can't you just leave it alone?"

When he looks up, you're sitting up with your thighs pressed together, hands by your sides as you lean forwards inquisitively. Eyes mirroring each other, Jake stares you down.

"Don't fucking do this to me, YN," His hand curls into a fist, the corner of the notebook page crumpled under his touch. "You've got a boyfriend, don't you? Stop putting your nose in my business."

"It's my business too," You stand, towering over him, your palm flat on the surface of the table while the other rests on the arm of his chair. Your faces, just a few inches away. You breathe hard, your hand curls into a tight fist to keep you from losing it. The paper almost tears apart just by the way you've scrunched it.

(Your walls begin to crumble.).

You can feel Jake's heavy breaths, chest heaving at you, and your heart picks up its pace when his eyes fall on your lips.

"Baby," You start. You can hear his heartbeat racing. Your cells are going insane, screaming at you to kiss him. To touch him. To tell him. But you can’t do that; not when you've already done enough damage to ruin each other. Done enough to ruin him. "Jaeyun. Jake."

"I love you." Jake finally says, his voice barely above whisper.

To you, you hear it as: "We're done studying tonight. Go home, YN." So you do.

He breaks a few minutes later after you leave, locked in his bedroom, crying into his pillows.

viii.

It's April and it's the party.

Jake regrets going.

He's with Jiyoon, who hasn't gone a single minute without trying to impress him. It's nice and he appreciates it, but she’s trying so hard that it's almost embarrassing. But whatever, it's fun. Her party is fun and he tries to forget about her constantly acting cute to enjoy himself. He isn't trying to be an asshole but he always found it uncomfortable when girls around him do not understand the concept of boundaries, which is kind of hypocritical of him to think about because there is absolutely none of that when it comes to the both of you.

It doesn’t really bother him that she's sort of stiff with her dancing, but the music is good and easy to settle in a groove, so he lets her guide him to the makeshift dance floor where he thinks he can see you pressing up to Heeseung and tries not to look your way, trying not to get his heart broken again.

It doesn’t bother him.

He ends up indulging in five more cups of pineapple mimosas and a last minute glass of vodka to top everything all off, because why not?

And he's on the dance floor with Jiyoon, guiding her hips to some new pop song that's currently blaring on the speakers, his hand resting on the small of her back, feeling every movement at once. It makes sense. It's a party and she's enjoying herself. They both are.

What doesn't make sense is how you and your boyfriend have moved a few inches closer to him, dark eyes analysing every movement. Jake knows you're doing this to rile him up, and it's working enough for him to piss you off too.

You're annoyed.

You wanted nothing more than to yank that bitch off of him and be the one who's dancing with him. But you know you can't so instead, you bring your hand up to the back of Heeseung's neck, and it's like he knows what you're trying to do when he presses his lips to your jawline and starts kissing, sucking and biting, travelling lower to the base of your neck. You can feel him smirk when a moan escapes your mouth. You've noticed Jiyoon has turned to your direction to see why Jake seems to be distracted. You fight back a taunting smile.

Heeseung's hand snakes around your waist before resting it on the small of your back, pressing your bodies together which immediately makes you grind your hips against him as you burn your gaze into Jake's. It feels good, you won't lie.

He tears away when Jiyoon turns away from you, flustered, leaving you triumphant. Good .

The next time you look back at them, Jake is no longer to be found. Instead, Jiyoon has found someone else to dance with, and probably take back to her room. Called it .

You're not drunk. Not even close. You haven't had anything since you arrived, agreeing with Chaeyoung, who dragged you here in the first place, that the alcohol was cheap shit.

It's a few minutes later (minutes, not moments. You're not pretentious.) when you feel a hand on your wrist, dragging you away from Heeseung, not bothering to excuse you. You get into the first room Jake decides.

"Clothes off, now."

You rebuff. "I was busy with my boyfriend,"

"I don't give a shit," His voice sounds deeper than usual and you wonder if it's because you've actually managed to make him mad.

Jake ignores you and shuts the door behind you, pushing you against the wall and touching you everywhere while leaving open mouthed kisses by your jawline.

"You say we're friends and yet you pull up some bullshit stunt every chance you think is good for you." He says in between.

"Good for me, good for you, same thing," He doesn't even meet your eyes, looking everywhere as he pulls the back strings of your top, letting it fall to the ground.

"Did you want her to be me tonight?"

He still doesn't look at you as he gets on his knees and pulls your shorts down. "No."

You roll your eyes against your will as Jake sucks on your clit without warning, your hand immediately tugging on the boy's hair, having his face nuzzle closer.

"Don't lie to me—fuck—You and I both know why we're constantly in the same place," A moan slips out, and you can feel the ghost of the boy's smirk on you. You don't say anything else, too out of it to tell him to stop.

You don't have to tell Jake because he knows. Jake knows your body more than anything. Knows your games and the way your mind works.

Jake doesn’t respond and does exactly what he never thought of doing. He adjusts his position, swings your leg over his shoulder, and raises his hand enough to collide with your cunt, where the pain immediately warms up to your pleasure. The slap resonates within the room and it earns him a gasp.

"Watch your mouth, baby," You writhe against the firm grip that Jake has on your hips. "You don't want everything to be ruined now, do you? That's what you always say to me."

"What kind of game are you playing?"

Jake doesn't reply and dives back in between your legs, this time much rougher than earlier, sucking on your clit while his only other thought was how the girl who asked him to come must be trying to look for him now, and he knows exactly how long it will take her to search every room until she finds her own and sees you completely at his mercy. This was the kind of game he knew you would play if your places were switched, if he had a girlfriend that wasn't you.

"I always want to fuck you, Jake. If that's what's getting you worked up. And I have been for two years," You manage as you feel him insert two digits inside you. "What else would you want?"

Jake can tell he's got you all to himself by the way you gasp to fight back another moan that's threatening to spill from your lips, by the way you sink your chipped manicures into his scalp as he draws whimpers and whines out of you, never stopping as he leads you to your orgasm.

Your voice mocks him. Teasing, challenging, driving him insane. "You. I love you," Jake lets out.

You hear it as, "Let's put that pretty mouth of yours to good use. Get on your knees, baby."

ix.

It's May.

You don't have a boyfriend.

Jake only knows this upon eavesdropping on your conversation with one of your previous special friends , Choi Yeonjun. The guy's rash, definitely more of your speed, and much cooler than him if he wants to be honest. He doesn't know the full story, sort of just finds out about it by himself, but basically, you two have hooked up for a few months, until Yeonjun realised he was falling for someone and broke off the affair. And five months later, Jake had just moved into town.

A cute story, he guesses, or whatever. But it makes Jake feel twisted, remembering that you've been with other guys, have called other guys baby , and have kissed them where you've kissed him. It's practically the same with everyone.

He wonders, though. Wonders if he's the first guy you have managed to keep around. Wonders if you fuck anyone else behind his back, other than your boyfriend. Wonders if you have ever had a boyfriend during your affairs with other people, or if you were just plainly into fucking him over specifically.

But he's right behind the school building, supposedly here to pick you up, the pungent smell of smoke gravitating under his nose and whirls of curses means that you have company.

The crackle of the cancer stick is faint but it doesn't drown your husky tone when you say: "Shit's stressful."

Yeonjun snorts, backing against his shiny motorcycle. "Trouble in paradise, lover girl?"

"Now, why say it like that. You make me gag."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Whatever," You stand before the flagpole, left hand tucked away in your (Jake's) denim jacket's pocket, dominant hand flicking ashes onto the ground. "But yeah, there's something of the sort."

Yeonjun's eyes sparkle with obvious mischief. "Do tell, LN YN."

You roll your eyes. "Broke up with him. Found out some whore was leeching off of him. Felt like the right thing to do."

Jake doesn't mean to intrude, and he hadn't meant to stay either. He didn't know you broke up with Heeseung, but then again you never really tell him about anything related to that. He hasn't spoken to the older boy in weeks either. But he hears his name in between and now he's all too interested to hear what you have to say about him when he isn't around.

"Wait, what?" Yeonjun interrupts. "I thought you were going to tell me about Jake."

"What about Jaeyun?"

"So we're on a first-personal-name basis with the secret lover now? You weren't like this with me, YN," All out of it, Yeonjun stomps the cigarette with his boot, aggressively digging its grave.

"Oh, shut up," You laugh incredulously. "Where did you even get that idea from?"

"You're so," Yeonjun trails off. "Here's a little bit of spice—do you like him or something? Is the LN YN finally retiring from her cock parade?"

You scoff. "Idiot."

Yeojun ignores your comment. "Do you?"

You don't answer. The ego lies in your throat like the suspense of a bullet in Russian roulette, steadily pulling the trigger. Jake breathes, never letting go.

Say it.

Then it strikes him sharply, tearing the barriers of his heart apart. "I don't. He's just someone."

Yeonjun stares, his pierced eyebrow raised. "A friend?"

Of course.

"No," You say quickly. "I mean, yes. But no."

"You're whistling in the wind here. What is he to you exactly?"

You sigh exasperatedly. Jake doesn’t get why you have to ponder on it so much. You usually just say you're friends and move on.

"He's a friend that I fuck whenever I feel like it,"

"Meaning," Yeonjun is looking at you like you have all the answers to solve every problem there is in the world, waiting for you to unfold them.

"Friends with benefits, are you slow?"

"Fuck off."

You shrug, toying with the grey lighter in your hands, lighting it every fifteen (Yes, fifteen. It's been your favourite number recently.) seconds and burning its flame into the rusting steel behind you.

"YN," Yeonjun starts again.

"What," You look up at him, clearly done with the topic.

"Reality check right now," Yeonjun pressed. "You have feelings for him and you have no idea how to tell him, so you keep stringing him around at a distance enough for you to control it."

You take a puff, taking in the kill. "Don't be delusional." You exhale.

"Delusional because I'm right, aren't I?"

"Just drop it already." You snap.

Yeonjun raises his hands defensively, nodding his head as if to say he's letting the topic go. It's quiet again.

Jake tries to figure out if you've been quiet like this before, stuck driving in circles and telling people to get out of your car, sending them home crying. Or if he had been the first for everything. Maybe this whole time he'd been the one complicating things.

You seem to put yourself in similar situations, Jake notes.

Jake decides he's heard enough. It's enough and it's all he ever hears anyway. He's a friend . You're friends. This is always how it goes with you, despite everything.

You with your dumb (pretty) hair colour, cold dark eyes, rocking your (his) dumb signature denim jacket with your dumb cherry flavoured lipgloss that makes him weak, you who parades around town with guys fawning over you, you who gives them little to no attention at all, and you who picks one of the lucky ones to be your conquests before screwing them over.

You are selfish and you never try.

Jake chases down with your hair flowing against his cheeks to kiss away what dried wetness remains, and eventually crashes alongside you after you get off of him, breathless.

It's June.

The euphoria, however, is short-lived, and you eventually stand and rush awkwardly to pick up your clothes, and get dressed. “You wanted me to go rougher than usual, are you okay?” Jake calls. He knows, he knows that you know. He hopes at least.

“Everything's great,” You say, shimmying into your shorts. “I need to get home, though. It's my turn to cook tonight. My dad isn't home again.”

Jake reaches for a kiss and you don't pull away. He keeps on kissing you, his wet mouth chasing the corner of where your lips would flick upwards into a smile that he's fallen for.

Jake pulls away frowning, sliding your bra strap up your shoulder, and helping you put on your (his) hoodie. He says, "I love you, I'm sorry. He wasn't worth it. I'm sorry that you had to take the things you love and tear them apart, or pin them down with your body and pretend that they're yours forever."

And you haven't moved, you're frozen, and Jake's kissed you, and he knows you'll never forgive him for showing you such vulnerability, for getting past all your thorns, and maybe now, you will leave him alone.

To everyone else, most importantly to you, it comes out as, "Good night, YN. Get home safe."

xi.

It's July, and Jake kisses Jiyoon for the first time.

It's unplanned, really. He hadn't meant to but it was a spur in the moment with the picture of your smile and mischievous dark eyes in his head. He's always thinking of you.

But you haven't called or texted since that night and he's scared he might've done so much.

He does, however, kiss her. It happens because things are easy with Jiyoon. It's easy to laugh. It's easy to be happy. It took him a long time to get there, but he tried, tried, and tried.

So, to cut a long tale short, he wants to forget the fact that he messed it up with you and decides that this girl sitting next to him would be the perfect person to start over with.

Jake promises himself that it will be simple, uncomplicated. Everything is simple with Jiyoon. He's nervous (not because he likes her—he doesn't—at least, not like that. Which he feels guilty about since he started seeing similarities with you but whatever.). When she turns to him, he's drumming up the courage to reach over the seat and kiss her (like he would with you.).

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jiyoon ponders, her fingers sluggishly tapping the steering wheel, her brows pinched together in worry. Her eyes are dark, alluring, familiar, Jake thinks. Just pretend they're YN's and fucking kiss her, you idiot.

Jake moves in a little closer, trying to latch onto the belief that he can see those familiar hues in Jiyoon's eyes. He licks his lips, recalls the moments with you, and inhales slowly.

"Jake?" Jiyoon asks, perplexed and befuddled, as Jake places his hand on the head of her seat and moves perilously close. "What are you doing?"

And it's there. He takes control with a forced smile pressed against her mouth, snaking his hand around her neck and pulling her close.

Her eyes are closed when he flutters his open and he sees it. Out through the foggy window, he sees you. Your figure fades away when Jiyoon pulls away, and he realises he's stopped kissing her.

"You're a good kisser, Jake."

He pulls away with regret, reality hitting him, and feeling his skin flush. "I'm sorry, I can't—,"

Jake wishes he could go back in time and undo the previous twenty seconds of his life the minute his heart leaps into his throat and he sees the comfortable colour of blue.

"This was a mistake, I'm sorry."

He grabs his phone on the dashboard, unlocks the door, gets out and heads home.

xii.

It's August.

It's dark out, and Jake is in your room.

You called him over.

There's fire in just the right places, in your touch cautious on his ribcage, in your mouth asking sweetly on Jake's, in the tepid cooling fins from the vents, turned to just the right power.

You don't have sex with him. Jake softly kisses you on the mouth. It's not your birthday. It's the month you and him met at Heeseung's party. It's not even an occasion to be celebrated. (Unless, you're fucking cheesy then sure.). It's not what people do unless they're in a relationship, but with you, he's found that there are a lot of things a person could do with no strings attached.

You take a step back, partially to catch your breath and half to check the time. The digits are slightly obscured by Jake's fluffy head of hair, but they're still: 12:17 AM.

"It's that night," Jake whispers.

You kiss Jake's cheek, jaw, and bottom lip with your lip glossed, kiss-mouthed smile. "Yeah, it is." You untangle yourself from Jake carefully, as if you have all the time in the world.

You have a lot of things. A lot of secrets, unsaid promises, sacred thoughts he knew that could kill you inside. Jake thinks about this a lot.

"Do you think we still would've met if it weren't for that party?" You wonder aloud, sliding under your covers.

Jake leans his cheek against the head of the bed, cold steel scarring his skin, face turning to you. He's in deep thought as he drums his fingers on the grey pillows.

"Maybe," He finally makes up his mind, a goofy smile on his face. "I actually have a secret."

"Sounds interesting." You say, smiling. You move to your nightstand to tug on the switch of your night lamp open awkwardly as the last street light outside your window goes off, so as to not pull your left hand away from Jake.

"Leaving me again? This is your house, you know." He jokes.

"Shut up. I need the light," You curl back into the position you were in a few minutes prior, sliding under the duvet next to the boy. "I can't see your face."

Jake chews his lower lip and suppresses a grin. Adoration. It's crystal clear from him.

"Would you want me to know?" You ask. Jake's heart pounds, the last summer rain falls, you soothe him with circles from your thumb.

"I think so," Jake says. You kiss him on the mouth, pure and warm, encouraging him.

And Jake loves you. Nevertheless, since, until.

"I love you." Jake says.

You smile.

It doesn't sound like anything else.

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