Summary: Y/N has built her family a paradise inside the one place that should be impossible the center of a monster-filled mechanical maze but paradise always has a price, and hers is a secret she’ll do anything to protect. When a boy who trusts no one starts asking the one question she can’t survive answering, the walls of her perfect lie start closing in just as fast as the ones outside it.
Warning: Sci-Fi / Dystopian, Maze Runner au but with a twist ig, Slow Burn, Found Family, Enemies-to-Allies-to-Lovers (hardy harrrr), Character Death (multiple), Graphic Violence, Body Horror, Psychological Manipulation, Betrayal, Grief, Isolation, Self-Sacrifice, Human Experimentation, Mind Control. Smut
[Masterlist]
Header by me// Minors DNI
Chapter 1 — Sanctuary
— Y/N is the beloved leader of a hidden sanctuary carved out of a nightmare, but she’s hiding something from the family she’s built something that terrifies even her fiercest protector. When a new arrival is pulled up from the dark, his unsettling calm and sharper-than-should-be-possible instincts make it clear: he’s not buying the peace everyone else has fallen in love with.
[Read Here]
Chapter 2 — What the Wire Measures
— As an uneasy calm settles over the camp, the new boy starts quietly asking questions no one else dares to and getting answers that don’t add up. What he uncovers in the dead of night will force one broken man to finally admit the truth he’s been begging Y/N to let him speak.
[Read Here]
Chapter 3 — The Weight of Her Smile
— The lie collapses in front of everyone, and the fallout is immediate, brutal, and impossible to undo. As the camp turns on its leader and the cost of the truth becomes horrifyingly clear, Y/N finds out exactly who’s still willing to stand beside her when there’s nothing left to protect.
[Read Here]
Chapter 4 — The Blind Spot
— With trust in ruins and the clock running out faster than anyone expected, two unlikely allies risk everything on a desperate gamble to save what’s left of their family. But escaping the nightmare comes at a price no one saw coming and the truth waiting on the other side is worse than anything they left behind.
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader𓊇 hold me, kiss me. whisper sweetly that you love me forever. hold me, kiss me. whisper sweetly that you love me forever. hold me, kiss me. whisper sweetly that you love me forever.
part one of two
⤫ 28253 ⤫ ― based & inspired on the movie: obsession (2026), heavily major spoiler alert: warnings, style, plot. ― gore, body horror, psychological horror, incel horror, cannibalistic themes, supernatural obsession, graphic violence, self-harm + mentioned of razor on wrist, suicide, toxic co-dependency, coercive control, drugs & alcohol use, smut, technically sex with a demon, blood, mentions of cuts, animal death (cat), profanity, mental health themes, dubcon, noncon sexual content, missionary, cowgirl, blowjob, please let me know if i've missed any!
⊹ 𐙚⋆˙˚ oh my gosh... i meant to do this in 15k but i accidentally doubled the amount haha... omg enjoy... :"( i hope it's not as shit as i think it is ajneabse i've proofread this like ONCE. p/s: i love this movie so fucking much it's sickening and unhealthy... please don't forget to leave your comments, thoughts, and inboxes :(( it makes me so happy!!!
the midnight spoon.
“i like you,” sunghoon started, voice low and careful, “and i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“you’re the only person i feel like i can talk to about anything… the only person i’ve felt this way about. it sounds stupid but i think about you all the time—even when i’m trying not to. it’s like you’re always on my mind.”
“you’re sweet and you’re kind, and i don’t know anyone who loves animals and cooking and books like you do. i know this might be weird to hear but… i like you, yn. like, more than anyone else, ever.”
“uh… uh huh.”
sunghoon pushed on, gaining confidence after that little push. he cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the female in front of him.
“my heart flutters every time you walk into the room, and every word you confide in me—”
“nope. stop.” jake cut him off, waving his spoon like a referee. “dude, nah. what are you? you’re not 72, you’re only 23!”
sunghoon groaned loudly, covering his face with both hands, elbows planted on the table. his dark hair fell forward as he slumped. “then how am i supposed to say it?” he mumbled through his fingers, voice muffled and frustrated.
jake leaned forward on the chair, grinning. oh, his poor little bestfriend. he turned to the poor waitress, who was holding the pot of water as she refilled sunghoon’s cup for the fifth time of the night.
“alright, be honest,” jake asked her, tilting his head. “would you accept his confession?”
the waitress blinked, cheeks tinting ping. she shifted on her seat, chuckling softly. “uh… um… well, it’s a bit too… much? like, too fast?” she gave a nervous little laugh. “i mean, that was really sweet! a little gross, but so sweet!”
jake clapped his hands in victory. “exactly. thank you.” he flashed her his charming smile. the waitress smiled back, scooting to leave the banquette chair. “also, can i get a cup of coffee? thank you.”
“sure,” she nodded quickly. before leaving, she glanced at sunghoon, whose head was still slumped against his palms. her voice softened a little. “and don’t worry too much about it. girls are simpler than you think. it’ll go well.”
sunghoon just muttered a soft, weak “thanks…” without lifting his head.
once she disappeared toward the counter, jake stood up, swung the single chair back to its original spot and slid back into the booth across from sunghoon. he stretched his arms along the back of the seat, sighing.
they’d been practicing for the past hour straight, and it honestly wasn’t looking too good for sunghoon. every attempt came out either painfully stiff and awkward or overly dramatic—like it was so obviously scripted and rehearsed.
the fluorescent lights of the diner above them flicked once, casting a brief shadow over sunghoon’s flushed face. he couldn’t believe they just stole away a waitress, her time, and made her the victim of his endless confessions.
jake watched him for a second, the grin faded into something more to sympathy. he leaned forward, arms on the table now.
sunghoon finally dropped his hands, thoroughly defeated. “i’m never doing this again.”
“you’re overthinking it.” jake said, voice lower than before. “yn isn’t the type who wants fireworks and bouquet of roses. she literally laughs at the smallest things in the world and more than anything, she’d value your honesty and sincerity more than these… superficial things.” he tapped the table twice for emphasis.
“just be honest and direct. tell her how you actually feel when you see her. that’s it.”
sunghoon finally lifted his head, dragging a hand through his dark hair. his jaw clenched, dark brown eyes tired under the warm lighting. “i know that,” he muttered, sighing. “but every time i think about actually saying it to her… my brain just goes blank, man.”
“what if i ruin it? everything? we’ve been friends for some time now—i can’t just fuck it we ball. what if she doesn’t feel the same and it gets weird?”
jake shrugged, stealing a fry from sunghoon’s forgotten, unfinished plate. “then it gets weird for a bit. but at least you’ll know how it actually goes if you do confess.” he pointed a fry at his friend.
“and besides, you know how she is. she’s not going to throw a friendship over some temporary feelings. she’s more mature despite her looks.”
sunghoon didn’t answer right away. he stared at his glass instead, watching droplets of condensation slide down the glass. the thought of you made his chest ache in that terrifying way of rejection.
he could already picture it.
your soft voice saying no, the same voice that sunghoon loved hearing more than the sound of his band’s songs. the way your fingers would probably hold his’, telling him how sorry you are, the same fingers that strummed his guitar. how you’d look turning him down—no longer the peaceful look you always have on your face.
ugh, fuck. you’d probably look awkward, guilty, and pity him. looking pathetic in front of you was the last thing sunghoon ever wanted.
and the thing was—sunghoon’s feelings, he’s sure it’s not just temporary. they weren’t just a passing crush like how the other boys had for their crushes. this feeling settled deep in his chest and it only grew stronger every single day.
“i don’t know,” he finally said, voice low. his fingers messed with his hair again, tugging at the strands in frustration.
“ah, fuck it,” sunghoon muttered under his breath, tipping his head back before his shoulders slumped. “i’ll just… shit, i won’t do it.”
jake’s eyebrows shot up. “hey, don’t be like that. what gives?”
sunghoon shook his head, refusing to meet his best friend’s eyes. he slumped back against the seat. “nah, i don’t want to hear it when she says no.”
there it was—the insecurity he kept locked away that’s slipping out in his tone. sunghoon wasn’t the type to say it out loud often, but tonight it sat right on the surface. jake knew this too well.
jake leaned forward a little more, frowning in confusion. it wasn’t going well, sure—but sunghoon looked determined enough just a few seconds ago. “you won’t know that unless you try.”
“nah, it’s fine, man,” sunghoon replied quickly, scoffing. he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. pure body language sign that he didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. “i’ll just regret it.”
jake, still slightly frowning, watched him for a few seconds, then sighed. “alright… well, you do you.” he paused, tapping his fingers once on the table before adding, more seriously this time. “i’m just saying… it’s not like you have all the time in the world. you either take the risk, or lose the chance.”
the words landed like the moon between them. sunghoon didn’t reply. he only stared at his cold glass again. jake quietly sipped on his coffee, drumming his fingers against the table.
the diner went quiet.
——
when did it all start?
maybe it was the first time he ever saw you.
it was a few years back—a lazy, hot afternoon in jake’s dorm meant to study but turned into doing nothing. jake had been showing him old photos on his phone, scrolling through memories when sunghoon wasn’t even in.
then there you were, standing next to jake in one of the pictures, maybe fourteen, or younger than that. sunghoon couldn’t tell. but you were smiling brightly with messy hair and stained uniform. jake laughed and said something like, “that’s my childhood bestfriend, yn. she’s starting here this semester.”
sunghoon had only nodded at the time.
or maybe it started the day you stepped into their elective class—graphic web designing—half an hour late.
you’d missed the bus, hair—again—slightly messy from rushing across the campus, cheeks flushed and the collar of your blouse was slightly wet with sweat. the professor made you introduce yourself in front of the entire auditorium as “punishment”.
just like others, you were embarrassed. but a cute kind. the kind where sunghoon was glad the bus ran late because he got to see you this way.
or maybe the night his band performed at the campus music festival.
the lights were blinding and the crowd was loud. but in the middle of one song, his vision had cleared for a split second and he saw you. standing near the front with jake, smiling and not singing cause you had no idea what you’d just dragged yourself into.
you’re an awkward girl, sunghoon could tell that. probably not as awkward as him, but definitely not as outgoing like the others in the crowd. when the set ended and you smiled up at the stage—not at the band or the performance, but specifically him when your eyes met—something within sunghoon shifted.
that was the moment he knew it wasn’t casual anymore.
HONK!
sunghoon startled, snapping back into reality as the sharp sound of a car horn cut through his thoughts. he was behind the wheel of his sedan, halfway home. the traffic light in front of him had turned green while he was lost in his head.
“gosh… jesus, calm down,” he muttered under his breath, cheeks warming with embarrassment even though he was alone. he quickly shifted gears, pressing the accelerator a little too hard before easing off.
his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. that spiral of memories left a strange tightness in his chest. the way you looked at him. not the lights, not his bandmates, not jake. just him.
he exhaled slowly, trying to shake the feeling off. driving usually helped him clear his head, but tonight, every red light felt like a warning.
you either take the risk, or lose the chance.
sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek. he wasn’t sure if he was ready to even risk it… but the longer he waited, the more he’s at a loss.
how was he supposed to say it then?
sunghoon tried practicing in his head again, muttering under his breath like an idiot.
“hey, yn… i’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now…”
too casual. basic.
“i like you. a lot. more than a lot, actually—”
no. that sounded too desperate.
“if you don’t like me back, i don’t know what i’m gonna to myself.”
what the fuck was that? sunghoon cringed hard, gripping the wheel tighter. he’s not saying that to you.
every version felt wrong. too stiff. too awkward. too much. not enough.
damn. was this even the right thing to do?
you… you were so full of light. so whimsical and kind to everyone in a way sunghoon had never known before. smiling, laughing, giving pieces of yourself away so… so easily. sunghoon wanted that. he wanted all of it for himself.
but what if you didn’t feel the same? what if you only saw him as someone from your graphic class? as jake’s bestfriend?
he hated how that was possible. and how much power you had over him without even knowing it.
“... i just want her to look at me,” he muttered quietly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “is that too much to ask?”
the selfish want sat heavy in his chest, mixed with the familiar fear of rejection. sunghoon didn’t think about what his confession might do to you. the thought about what not having you was already consuming him too much.
——
“kibbles?” sunghoon called softly, voice echoing a little in the dim hallway. he kicked off his shoes by the entrance, setting it aside with his foot. “kibbles?”
huh. she’d usually come running. or at least meowed from her favourite spot on the windowsill where she liked to watch the car headlights. the sound of the door unlocked should already alert her that he was home.
but tonight there was nothing.
sunghoon frowned, sighing as he set his keys down on the console table. he made his way through to her usual spots first—the windowsill, none. the corner of the couch where she’d bundle in the blanket, none. on top of his speaker stack, not there too. under the dinner table, no sign of her.
“kibs, come on,” he muttered, a small thread of annoyance and worry creeping in as he walked further into the house. deciding to let her be for now, sunghoon went into his room and flipped on the bathroom light.
he froze.
there—kibbles was lying motionless on the cold tile floor near the sink, her small gray body curled unnaturally. a half–chewed blue-green pebble was sitting right in her slightly opened mouth. white, foamy drool trailed at the corner of her cat mouth.
insecticide bait pellets for the tiny ants he’d bought.
“shit…” sunghoon whispered, heart dropping.
he crouched down slowly, hand hovering over her without touching. she was already cold—must’ve been a while ago today while he was out the whole day. sunghoon glanced at the pellets he scattered around the floor.
he must’ve forgotten to throw the rest of those pellets out after he placed them. he’d meant to, really had. but between band practice, the constant thinking about you, work, assignments—it had slipped his mind.
“sorry, kibs,” he breathed, scratching the back of his neck, then ruffled through his messy hair.
what a shitty fucking day.
he crouched there on the bathroom floor for a long moment, just staring at her. she’d been with him since his first year—a low–maintenance companion who never asked for much, but always kept him together.
and now she was gone because he’d been careless about throwing those damn poison pellets out.
eventually, sunghoon stood up. he grabbed an old towel from the rack and gently wrapped her in it, carrying her out of the bathroom. she felt heavy and unnaturally stiff in his gentle grip. he placed her on the kitchen counter for a second while he looked for a bag.
once he found one, a paper bag, he carefully slid her inside and set the bag near the edge of the counter, meaning to deal with it properly later. to bury her outside, or something.
but his phone suddenly rang, cutting through the silence of the house.
he pulled it out of his pocket.
haewon.
“hey,” sunghoon answered, voice tired and weary.
“hey, are you and jake okay?” haewon asked without much greeting. it’s always been like that anyway. she sounded like she was walking somewhere, keys jingling in the background.
“yeah, why?”
“dunno… he just looked kinda bummed when he came home. you okay?”
sunghoon let out a long breath, leaning against the counter. his eyes drifted to the plastic bag holding kibbles.
“not really,” he admitted quietly. “kibbles died.”
there was a soft gasp, then followed with a short pause on the other end.
“oh gosh…” haewon muttered, her breath hitched in her lungs. “sunghoon, i’m sorry… what happened?”
“she just… she ate something bad,” he said, the words coming out carefully. he didn’t mention the insecticide pellets. didn’t mention he’d forgotten to throw them out days ago. it happened.
“i found her in the bathroom earlier.”
he left it at that—vague, but enough. people didn’t need to know about details. part of him felt kinda guilty for not telling the full truth, but another part of him just didn’t want to hear the judgement in her voice. or worse, the pity.
haewon sighed softly on the line. “that’s awful… i know how much you loved her. do you need anything? want me to come over or bring you food or—?”
“nah, it’s fine,” sunghoon replied, rubbing his temple. “i’ll deal with it. thanks though.”
“oh—alright, just let me know if anything, okay?”
“sure.”
the call didn’t last much longer. after a few more gentle words from haewon, he hung up and set the phone down.
sunghoon stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the paper bag. he then glanced at the clock on the wall—it was almost 2. too late to deal with this properly. he’d handle it tomorrow. whatever people did in these situations.
with a tired sigh, he picked up the bag and carried it over to the kitchen trash bin. sunghoon hesitated for half a second—he didn’t want to throw her out, of course; but he didn’t want to have a dead cat lying on the counter.
so he dropped it inside.
the soft thud it made when it hit the rest of the trash felt heavier than it should have.
sunghoon didn’t want to think about it anymore tonight. what would change?
he turned off the lights, dragging himself to his bedroom, changed to his shorts before collapsing onto the bed. he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come fast.
what a shitty fucking day.
——
“hah—ngh—?”
you were underneath him.
a broken sound escaped your throat as pleasure coiled tight in your tummy. you were spread out on his bed, legs wrapped around his waist as he moved deep inside you in slow, rolling thrusts.
missionary. intimate. close.
“shit, yn…” sunghoon groaned, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. you felt impossibly warm and tight around him. like a fucking vice. your hands were gripping his back, pretty little manicured nails digging into his skin every time he sank in fully.
he leaned to kiss you hard, tongue sliding against yours, swallowing every little gasp and whimper that left your lips. your bodies were slick with sweat and saliva and cum—skin sliding together with every movement like oil on oil.
sunghoon pulled back just enough to look at your face—flushed, eyes hazy and teary and blurry with pleasure, lips parted with your lipstick smudged across your lips and his’. so fucking pretty. fuck—the way your tits bounced back and forth every single time he rammed into you.
that made him thrust harder, deeper, grinding against that spot that instantly made your back arch off the bed. your eyes rolled back into your head, and you gasped so aloud it made sunghoon’s hair stand up.
your head tilted back, nails digging into sunghoon’s back.
“ahh—fuck! right there!”
your voice was wrecked, desperate, and so fucking sweet. you clung to him tighter like a lifeline, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, hips rolling up eagerly to meet every thrust. your tight walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper with every desperate movement.
sunghoon groaned against your neck, kissing and biting the sensitive skin as he picked up his pace. he fucked you harder, grinding against up the pace. he fucked you harder, grinding against that perfect, gummy spot inside you with every stroke. the way your body responded—arching, trembling, soaking his length—drove him insane.
“you’re so tight, ugh shit—feels s’good.” he moaned, capturing your lips in a messy, heated kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you again and again. your breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard from arousal. one of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, spreading you wider so he could bury himself even deeper.
you moaned louder into his mouth, nails raking so hard and deep it left angry, red marks down his canvas of a skin. your hips kept rolling up like you couldn’t get enough. “g—gonna cum, i’m gonna cum—!”
so wet. so tight. so perfect.
sunghoon wanted to stay buried inside you forever.
“yeah—? oh jesus,” he grunted, nudging your head up to expose more of your neck so he could press his hot lips to your jugular. he kissed the spot first—soft and open–mouthed—before sucking hard on that soft spot, tongue dragging over your pulsing vein as he continued thrusting into you with deep strokes.
the wet, filthy sound of his hips meeting yours filled the room.
he pulled back just enough to look at your pretty flushed face, eyes clouded with lust.
“i love you,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips. “do you love me?”
your eyes slowly fluttered open. you looked up at him with that soft, hazy expression he loved so much. your fingers brushed his messy, damp hair away from his forehead tenderly, then you smiled—sweet and warm and honey dripped.
and then you whispered back,
“i love you, jaeyun.”
what—?
sunghoon woke up with a violent jolt, gasping sharply as he sat up in bed.
his heart was racing so fast, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, and his cock—his cock was painfully hard, straining against his boxes. the dream still clung to him, the heat of your body, the way you moaned, the way your tight pussy tightened and clenched around him felt so real.
but those last words hit him like ice water.
jaeyun.
sunghoon sat there in the dark of his room, chest heaving, staring at his own reflection on the wall in front of him. the name echoed in his head, twisting something ugly and sharp in his stomach.
he ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to calm his breathing.
it was just a dream. just a stupid fucking dream that felt so, so, so fucking real.
just a dream. shit.
he let out a heavy sigh and glanced down. the front of his boxers was visibly wet and sticky, soaked through from how hard he’d cum during the dream. at the age of 23. he cursed under his breath and pulled the blanket off his lap.
then he finally looked at the clock on his nightstand.
16:53
“damn…” sunghoon muttered, rubbing his face. he had slept through the entire morning and most of the afternoon. he’d missed practice—but thank god the rental store was closed for the day.
RING—!
his phone suddenly rang, vibrating loudly on the nightstand. sunghoon reached over to grab it—the screen lit up with jake’s name.
he stared at it for a long second before picking up, his voice coming out rough and slightly annoyed when he was reminded of the dream.
“what?”
“whoa, damn,” jake laughed on the other end. easy. “did i wake you up or something? you sound like shit.”
sunghoon leaned back against the headboard, running his fingers through his hair again. “uh—yeah, sorry. long night. what do you want?” sunghoon cleared his throat, sounding less… irritated.
jake didn’t seem fazed. “band night at the hollow tonight. a couple of the guys from fine arts are playing. thought you might wanna come through. you in?”
sunghoon hummed, leaning his head back, staring at the ceiling. kibbles’ death and the dream was still clinging to him like sweat.
“uh… no, i don’t think so actually.”
there was a short pause.
“you are?” jake asked, both teasing and concerned lilt slipping into his voice. he wondered if sunghoon was still annoyed and bummed from last night’s conversation. “yn will be there.”
sunghoon’s grip tightened slightly on the phone. the mention of your name sent a mix of heat and unease through his chest. it’s nice if you were there—it’d been a minute since sunghoon last saw you. he figured he could…
kibbles.
his heart ached.
“uhm… yeah, no. i don’t know, maybe not,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “something came up.”
jake hummed, not buying it. haewon must’ve not told him yet about kibbles. “something came up, huh? you’ve been weird since last night, man. are you good?”
“i’m fine,” sunghoon replied a little too quickly. “just… ‘m just not in the mood tonight. tell haewon and yn i said hi though.”
a beat.
“...alright, sure.” jake didn’t push further, but his tone made it obvious he was suspicious and slightly disappointed. “but if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there from like, 8–ish. don’t rot in your room all night, hoon.”
“yeah, and i won’t—later, jake.”
sunghoon hung up and tossed his phone onto the bed beside him. he sat there in silence for a while, the wet spot on his boxers now cold and uncomfortable.
he glanced at the clock again—it’s a little past 5pm. knowing jake and haewon, they were probably going to drag you out to eat first before heading to the bar for the night. the thought made his tummy twist.
it’s so… bad.
sunghoon hated how easily jealousy sat in his chest now. hated how vivid that dream still felt. hated that even after everything, the first name that left your lips in his fantasy wasn’t his.
with a heavy sigh, sunghoon forced himself up and out of bed. he stripped off his boxers, tossed them into the laundry basket, and headed to the bathroom. the shower water was hot when he stepped under it, steam quickly filling the small space.
he closed his eyes, letting the water run down his face.
it’s because you and jake were childhood friends.
that had to be it. that closeness from time. the inside jokes. the way you finished each other’s sentences and food. the way jake could casually throw his arm around your shoulder and you’d just laugh it off, not tensing up.
the two of you had years of platonic history. sunghoon had… what? a few months—a year, at least—of stolen glances, late–night study sessions, occasional group hangouts, and bar nights where he always ended up sitting near you but never close enough.
the four of you even worked together at the old movie rental store off campus. that was how he got to see you more often—organising shelves together, sharing lunch times together, the chats when the store was empty. those shifts were everything to him.
sunghoon pressed his forehead to the cool tile, jaw tight.
he wanted more than that, though.
the water kept falling, but it did nothing to wash away the ugly twist in his chest.
——
after his shower, sunghoon stripped the messy sheets off his bed to replace them with fresh ones, trying to keep his hands busy, mind occupied. he was smoothing out the comforter when his phone started ringing again.
gosh. endless calls.
but this time, the screen lit up with your name.
yn ♡
sunghoon’s heart jumped, and he nearly let go of the pillow he was puffing up. he cleared his throat a couple of times, quickly running his still–damp hair to compose himself before swiping to answer.
“hi, yn,” he said, trying to sound casual even though his voice came out a little lower than usual.
“hi, sunghoon,” your voice came through the line, soft and warm like always. like you. “are you coming to the band night at the hollow later?”
sunghoon sat on the edge of his freshly made bed, fingers gripping the phone a little tighter. he sucked the inside of his cheek before replying, “uh… maybe not. i don’t know yet,” he answered, hesitating. did you call him just to ask if he was going? did jake put you in on this?
“are you?”
a short second paused before you answered.
“yeah, i am,” you hummed. “one of my girls is performing with her band tonight, so i have to show up,” you continued with a small laugh. there was another short pause before you added,
“it’d be nice to have you there, though. i’ve got something to tell you.”
sunghoon’s tummy flipped. his heart jumped, and the words got stuck in his throat.
“really?” his voice softened, a grin plastered on his face. “what is it?”
you let out a soft giggle. “haha, you’ve got to come then if you want to know.”
he couldn’t help the smile that rugged at his lips. canines digging down the flesh of his lower lip, sunghoon fumbled with his pants’ drawstrings.
“hmm… we’ll see.”
there was another brief pause. then, you continued, tone shifting to something more casual but sincere. “oh, also… i wanna let you know that i’ve put in my two weeks at the store. i wanna focus on helping my mom with the family business we got going on.”
sunghoon’s smile faded. he hadn’t expected that. the only time he could see you for eight hours a day was when you shared a shift. but now, you were going? leaving him?
“oh… wow. that’s… that’s sudden.”
“yeah,” you replied quietly. “i’ll tell you more about it later if you come tonig—crap!”
there was a sudden clatter on your end, followed by shuffling sounds like you were moving around quickly.
sunghoon sat up straighter. “yn? are you okay?”
he heard a soft grunt on the other line, then your voice. “yeah, yeah—but ugh,” you muttered, crouching down. he could hear the faint echo of your voice like you were near a tiled floor or drain. “my gem fell!”
“your what?”
“my necklace,” you explained, voice a little strained and clearly frustrated. sunghoon heard more shuffling on your end, like you were trying to look for it down the drain. “my onyx, ugh. it’s for protection and i’m supposed to bury it—it just slipped off…”
sunghoon’s lips twitched despite everything. even in small, troubled moments like this, you were still so you.
just as he was about to drift back into that dangerous fantasy, your voice pulled him back. “—of all days! i already feel so crappy, gosh.”
there was a soft sigh on your end before you continued, “today’s been awful… anyway, i’ll see you tonight?”
sunghoon hesitated for half a second, then answered quietly, “sure. i’ll be there.”
your voice brightened, sunghoon could hear it. he bit back a smile. “really? okay, great. i’ll text you if anything changes. see you later, sunghoon.”
“mmhm. see you, yn.”
the call ended.
the promise of seeing you tonight—with the something you wanted to tell him—made his chest feel tight in a way that was both exciting and terrifying.
tonight could be the night that everything changes.
——
“welcome to crystal cove.”
sunghoon gave the girl behind the counter a small smile as he stepped inside the quirky little shop. the place smelled in incense and old wood, with soft ambient music playing in the background. he looked around slowly, taking in the shelves packed with crystals, tarots, and spiritual… weird trinkets.
the girl, who looked to be around his age with dyed purple hair, multiple piercings, barely looked up from her nails at first.
“if you need help with anything, let me know,” she said lazily, then went back to filing her nails.
sunghoon just nodded and wandered into the store, browsing quietly. after a couple of minutes, he cleared his throat. “uh, yeah… actually i do need help. do you have crystal or gem necklaces?”
the girl finally put down her nail file and walked out from behind the counter.
“yeah, let me show you.”
she led him to a small table that had a spinning display rack full of necklaces and pendants. different stones in shapes and colours hung neatly.
“this is all we have,” she said, giving the rack a little spin. “they all have their own energies and stuff, so yeah… take your pick.”
sunghoon leaned in slightly, scanning the many options. “wow, thanks…” he paused, then asked, “what’s one for… calmness, or something like that?”
the girl tilted her head, thinking for a second before picking out a necklace with a smooth, pale blue stone. “this one’s blue lace agate. pretty good for calmness and communication. helps with anxiety too, supposedly.”
sunghoon stared at it for a moment, then nodded before taking it from her hand. “okay, cool… thanks.”
“mmhm,” the girl replied with a small hum, already turning away to go back behind the counter. she picked up the nail file again.
sunghoon held the necklace for a few seconds, turning it over in his palm. huh… yn’s not gonna like this. it felt too generic. he quietly placed it back on the spinning rack.
just as he was about to walk away—get you another thing, bracelet, or something—something else caught his eye.
on the shelf right in front of him sat a small collection of boxes, tiny voodoo keychains, and other oddities. tucked between a "manifestation jar” and a pack of antique–degined tarot cards was an unassuming item labeled—
one wish willow.
the box was small and white, almost minimalist. on the front was a delicate illustration of a slender, weeping willow branch with a single growing orb at the tip. the text printed in a thin, elegant serif font:
grab your wish willow!
break with intention. one use only.
below that, in a smaller faded letting:
wishes do come true. be careful what you ask for.
the packaging looked old, like something you’d find in an actual vintage shop rather than a crystal store like this. sunghoon turned it around. on the back was a simple set of instructions printed in the same font:
spark the middle, break in half.
he stared at it for another few seconds.
huh… a wish. a small, crooked smile tugged at his lips.
“yn’s gonna like this.”
sunghoon grabbed the box without thinking twice and headed to the counter. the girl looked up from filing her nails again when he placed it down.
“no crystals?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
he shook his head, smiling. “this one’s better, i think,” he replied, shrugging.
she scanned the item with a bored expression. “oh right, sure. ‘cause you can make a wish. everyone wants a wish.” she said, her tone subtly sarcastic as she put the box in a small paper bag.
sunghoon let out an awkward laugh. “haha… yeah. it’s, um… it’s not for me.”
“right…” the girl glanced up at him, as she slid the bag towards him with a half-smile. “well, don’t come back complaining if it actually works.”
sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “oh, don’t worry, i won—wait, what do you mean? people complain about these?”
the girl leaned her elbows on the counter, looking mildly entertained for the first time she puts her file down. “well, they’re from the 70s, so most people buy them as collectibles. not really meant to be used. the ones who do use them… usually come back complaining.”
sunghoon let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “haha, why? ‘cause they make regretful wishes or something?”
the girl didn't laugh. she just looked at him for a beat too long.
“yeah. and then they wish they were dead.”
a heavy silence fell between them. the soft ambient music in the store suddenly went deafened.
sunghoon blinked, slightly taken aback. the girl didn’t bat her eyes away.
“... what?”
she held his gaze for another second before she suddenly cracked a smile and laughed lightly, waving her hand.
“well, that’d be 15000 won.”
the eerie tension vanished as quickly as it came. sunghoon blinked, letting out an awkward chuckle but still a little unsettled.
“ah, haha… um, here.” he handed her his card. she rang him up quickly, slipped the receipt into the bag. “you’re good at creeping people out.” he complimented her nervously.
the girl laughed, shrugging.
“enjoy your wish.”
when sunghoon walked off with his paperbag, he turned to look at the girl behind the counter.
she smiled very still, eerily.
wow, sunghoon thought, shaking his head. she needs a raise.
——
the hollow was loud but cozy, being a small bar after all. a local band warmed up on stage followed by low chatter of regulars. the four of you were seated at a round wooden table near the back: you, sunghoon, jake, and haewon.
“—so this guy at the volunteering site tried to flirt with me in the midst of cleaning up the chicken’s cage. mid–scooping he goes, ‘you have really pretty eyes.’”
jake bursted out laughing. “ew, that’s disgusting. what did you say?”
“i told him my eyes were only pretty when i wasn’t smelling shit,” haewon replied, laughing.
you were laughing too, leaning forward with your chin resting on your hand. “he sounds silly. did he keep trying?”
sunghoon smiled along, but honestly, he wasn’t really listening. his eyes kept going back and forth from you, then haewon, then back to you again. under the table, he kept nudging jake’s foot with his own.
jake finally glanced at him, mouthing, what?
sunghoon jerked his head subtly toward you, then gave jake a look that clearly said—leave us alone for a bit.
jake raised his eyebrows, now?, then glanced at haewon who was still mid–story and fully engaged.
haewon suddenly paused, catching the weird energy and the way they’ve been silent between the two boys. “what the hell are you guys doing?”
jake’s eyes widened then he chuckled, shaking his head. “nothing! nothing, nothing.”
nothing—was what he said, but jake’s foot nudged haewon’s underneath the table as well. she frowned, but was quick on catching it, haewon looked at sunghoon—then to you who looked a little confused, and a knowing little smirk appeared on her face.
“oh, oh, okay,” she said, clearing her throat and standing up, “well, i’m kinda thirsty so i’m gonna get more drinks. anyone want anything?”
you immediately started to stand too. “i’ll come with you!”
then sunghoon suddenly spoke up. “wait—no, i’ll go.”
everyone paused. haewon blinked at him, jake—who was mid–standing in his seat, ready to go with haewon—looked back and forth between you and sunghoon. “uh…”
“o—okay…” haewon murmured, slowly sitting back down. jake cleared his throat and plopped back into his chair as well. “alright, yn and sunghoon can go then. i just want a coke.”
you glanced at sunghoon, slightly surprised by the sudden switch–up when nobody wanted to go with haewon. still, you didn’t question it. “...sure,” you said with a small smile, gesturing toward the bar.
“let’s go, sunghoon.”
the bar area was nicely lit with string lights hanging overhead, accompanied with chatters and a band playing on stage in the background. you and sunghoon found a small open spot, slightly away from the main crowd.
you leaned forward slightly, catching the bartender’s attention with a small wave.
“hi—yeah, can i, uh, get two beers, one coke, and a strawberry soju spritzer, please?” you ordered, then added with a grateful smile once he nodded. “thanks a bunch.”
the bartender tapped on the terminal. “alright, that’ll be 38,500 won,” he said. “oh, and we only take cards, hun.”
you nodded quickly, smiling. “oh yup, sure sure,” you replied, already reaching for your wallet.
sunghoon instinctively moved to pull out his own card, but you were faster. your card beeped on the reader before he could do anything. “no, no, it’s fine!” you said, smiling. the machine beeped in approval.
“i got it.”
then, you gently pushed his hand back down with a soft laugh. sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, a small smile forming despite himself.
“you didn’t have to do that.”
“i wanted to,” you replied simply, flashing him that smile he loved so much. “you can bring the drinks later.”
sunghoon smiled. as the bartender turned to make the drinks, you turned toward him, resting your elbows on the wooden counter. he felt his pulse pick up, and rubbed the back of his neck before speaking.
“so, uhm… any new movies you’ve been watching lately?”
your eyes lit up instantly—movie talk was always a safe, comfortable topic between the two of you, having worked in a rental store and all.
“oh yeah, actually…” you got comfy. “i watched undertone two nights ago. but don’t tell kim, okay? i promised her i’d rent it at the store first so it counts toward our numbers.”
sunghoon let out a genuine laugh, the sound low. the tension from earlier eased a bit. “you watched it without renting? that’s bold. kim’s gonna kill you if she finds out.”
“i know, i know,” you giggled, covering your mouth with one hand. “i felt so guilty the entire time, but i couldn’t wait. it was so good, sunghoon. the sound design’s absolutely crazy, oh my gosh. i don’t think i’ve ever been so scared without all the jumpscares, ghosts action, you know?”
sunghoon nodded, smiling. he placed the top of his chin on his palm. “i’ve been meaning to watch it. everyone’s been talking about the score. was it as creepy as the trailer made it seem?”
“oh—creepier.” you said, eyes widening for emphasis. sunghoon loved all the expressions your pretty face could do. “if you’re ever gonna watch it, don’t watch it alone—i kept thinking, ‘why am i watching this by myself?”
he smiled. you always got that spark in your eyes when you talked about films. the way your eyebrows lifted, the small scrunch of your nose. so animated. it was one of his favourite things about you.
“haha,” sunghoon chuckled. for a moment, he almost forgot everything else. forgot about the confession, the dream, kibbles. but then he remembered—you said you had something to tell him tonight.
“oh, yeah… about the thing you wanted to tell me—” he started, voice a little quieter.
before you could hum a reply of what he was saying, haewon suddenly appeared beside the two of you.
“playgirl’s playing! they’re starting their first song!” she said excitedly, already grabbing your arm. playgirl was one of your friend’s bands that was performing for the night.
“come on, we have to go back!”
your eyes widened slightly, quickly grabbing your phone on the counter. haewon gently pulled you away. “already?! wait—”
you turned your head toward sunghoon, giving him an apologetic but sweet smile.
“finish what you’re gonna say later!”
sunghoon nodded, trying to hide his disappointment, annoyance, and embarrassment. he clicked his tongue, drumming his fingers against the bar counter.
dang.
“yeah… later.”
——
the group walked out into the parking lot together, still laughing about something from earlier. your voices echoed between the parked cars under the glow of the streetlights.
suddenly, you stopped mid–step.
“oh, an orangey!” you said, eyes lighting up. a small stray tabby was lurking near one of the cars. without hesitation, you jogged towards it and crouched down, rummaging through your bag until you pulled out a small pack of dry cat food. you tore it open and carefully poured some onto a clean tissue you’d taken out, placing it on the ground.
the three of them slowed down and watched you.
haewon tilted her head, amused. it hadn’t been that long since she became friends with you. “does she always have cat food around?” she asked the two boys.
jake nodded with a grin. “mmhm. pretty much.”
a few moments later, you stood back up, brushing your hands together as the cat approached the food.
“sorry, what were we saying?” you asked, catching up to them again with an apologetic smile. obviously that small act of kindness towards the cat brightened you up, because you couldn’t contain the smile on your face.
haewon linked arms with you. “we’re going to karaoke! the night is still young~”
you let a tired groan, leaning your head on her shoulder for a second. “but i’m getting older~ ugh, i’d love to join but i’m just so sleepy…”
“awe, come on!” haewon whined, shaking your arm. “it’ll be fun! we haven’t done karaoke in forever.”
“i know, but…” you smiled tiredly, shaking your head. “nooo, seriously you guys, i’m kinda tired.”
jake chuckled. “you sure? you didn’t even drink a lot today.”
you turned to him with a pleading look. “but i do—jaeyun, please? i’m tired… i wanna go home.”
your childhood friend scratched the back of his neck. “my car is headed to the karaoke place though…”
you gave him your best puppy eyes, clasping your hands together like you’re praying. “please drop me off first?”
before jake could even respond, sunghoon stepped forward, unable to hide the quiet eagerness in his voice.
“i can take you home.”
you turned to sunghoon with a slightly surprised but grateful expression. “are you sure?”
“yup,” sunghoon nodded, trying to sound casual. “it’s uh… getting late for me too.”
haewon immediately pouted. “aw please, you never go to sleep right away anyway! who’s gonna play the bells while i sing, then?”
jake laughed, covering up haewon’s mouth. “i’m here, let them go home, already.”
you giggled, smiling softly at sunghoon. “thanks, sunghoon.”
the four of you exchanged quick goodbyes. sunghoon waved at jake and haewon—then jake pulled you into a hug. his arms wrapped around your waist.
“get home safe, okay?”
“mmhm, i will,” you murmured against his shoulder before pulling away.
sunghoon watched the hug a second longer than necessary, jaw tightening just slightly before he looked away.
——
the drive was quiet at first.
it wasn’t the first time sunghoon had ever driven you home, but every time he did—it always started quiet. like the two of you were giving yourselves some room to get comfortable. you sat in the passenger seat of his sedan, the streetlights casting patterns across your face.
in the smallness of the car, the alcohol had clearly hit you harder now. your movements were a little more abrupt, head occasionally leaning against the window as you stared off into the passing scenery and stores. your words started to slur just a tiny bit at the edges.
after a few minutes of silence, you turned your head toward him.
“oh, right… haewon told me about your cat,” you began, voice softer now, laced with sympathy. “i know it’s kinda iffy to hear it from someone else but… i just wanted to let you know i’m sorry about your cat.”
sunghoon’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. he kept his eyes on the road.
“oh… no, no, it’s okay,” he replied quietly. “i mean… it’s not okay, but i don’t think it’s fully hit me yet.”
you nodded slowly, blinking a few times like you were trying to focus. you knew how much his cat meant to him—based on the amount of times he’s talked about it. “well… you can call me when it does. if you want. i’m here.”
sunghoon glanced at you for a brief second. even drunk and sleepy, you were still looking at him with that gentle care that always made his chest feel tight.
“i know,” he said, flashing you a soft smile. “thanks.”
the quiet hum of the engine filled the car again before sunghoon spoke again. “oh, i got you something… but only after you tell me what you wanted to say.”
your eyes widened and you turned to look at him. the mood in the car shifted slightly. “you bought me something? you shouldn’t have—wait, why am i kinda nervous?”
sunghoon chuckled awkwardly, his eyebrows’ slightly pinched in slight confusion. “i don’t know. why is that a reaction?”
you scoffed playfully, shaking your head. “um—anyway, it’s nothing really,” you said, voice slightly slurred. “just wanted to tell you i put my two weeks in.”
the boy glanced at you, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “you told me that on the phone though?”
you let out a small, awkward laugh and nodded, looking out the window for a second. “i know… i just wanted to say it again in person.”
sunghoon didn’t buy it. it was obvious on his face—the slight tightening in his jaw, the way his eyes narrowed just a fraction. there was something more—he knew it. felt it. but before he could press further, you said something.
“also… you know my friend sieun?” you turned to look at him, trying to sound casual. “what do you think of her?”
his grip on the steering wheel tightened a little. sieun? sieun park? your bestfriend? “...nothing? i don’t really talk to her aside from our rehearsal time. why?”
you smiled, humming. “well… what do you feel about her?”
sunghoon chuckled softly, glancing at you before his eyes drifted ahead. “you’re asking how i feel about her? like, if i like her?”
“just wonderin’ cause…” you shrugged, still looking out the window for a moment before turning back to him with a small, tipsy smile. “she likes you. and i think… you guys would be cute together.”
the words hit him harder than they should have.
sunghoon’s expression shifted—a flash of surprise, followed by something sharper, almost pained, and irritated. his crush—the girl he’d been liking for months—was trying to set him up with someone else. the irony burned.
“what?” he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “that’s kinda silly. she doesn’t even know me. i don’t even know her.”
“well, maybe it’s time to get to know her then,” you replied lightly with a smile. as if it was the most obvious solution in the world. sunghoon swallowed. his chest felt tight.
“i don’t… i don’t like her like that.”
there was a beat of silence. at the emphasis, you tilted your head, watching him with those soft, slightly unfocused eyes.
“oh. so you have someone you like, then?”
sunghoon’s heart fluttered. he kept his eyes fixed on the road, then he glanced at you before replying. “yeah… i guess so.”
the air in the car suddenly felt a bit heavier—it was hard for you to grasp it in your drunken condition, but you knew enough not to push it further, just hummed quietly and leaned your head against the headrest.
sunghoon’s mind was racing.
how could you say that so easily? how could you just… tried to set him up with another…?
then, you turned your head to look at him again. “actually, i never thought you would have someone you like. you’re just so… composed and to yourself. it’s hard to figure you out.”
sunghoon gave a small, self–deprecating smile.
“well, i’m not exactly an open book when you wanna get to know me.”
still smiling, you replied, “i think you still are.”
a laugh escaped both of you at the same time—a little awkward, but it managed to ease the tension for a moment. sunghoon’s fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. he hesitated, then asked the question that had been burning in his chest since the starter of the conversation.
“what about you? do you have someone you like?”
you went quiet for a second, then nodded slowly. “i think so, yeah…” your voice was softer now, almost shy. “but i don’t think it’s reciprocated. or it is—i’m not sure.”
sunghoon’s heart picked up speed. so you have someone you like too. sunghoon wondered who it was—that lucky motherfucker. he tried to keep his voice steady.
“does he know you like him?”
you shook your head, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips.
“no, i don’t think so. i get really… shy? around someone i like. so, yeah. if i like someone, nobody will know.”
the silence that followed was nothing like what’s in sunghoon’s mind. every word you said twisted something deep inside him—hope, frustration, and ache all at one. he wanted so badly to ask who it was.
he didn’t.
sunghoon didn’t even confess, yet it felt like he was already rejected.
or maybe he never stood a chance.
“oh—well, we’re here.” sunghoon murmured as he pulled up in front of your grandmother’s house. you unbuckled your seatbelt, gathering your things. just as you were about to thank him and step out, sunghoon spoke again.
“oh yeah, um… do you have a partner for the end of the year party yet? or are you even coming? ‘cause i’m performing.”
you paused, hand already at the handle, and turned back to him with a small smile. “oh yes, yeah. at jay’s house, right? i’m planning to ask jaeyun if he wants to come with me.”
sunghoon’s expression froze.
i love you, jaeyun.
“...jake?”
“yeah. who else?” you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
it’s always him.
the words left his mouth before he could stop them.
“do you like him?”
you blinked, a little confused by the sudden shift in his tone. your eyebrows pinched in confusion, and your head’s slightly tilted. “yeah…? jake’s my bestfriend…”
sunghoon’s jaw tightened. his voice came out lower, edged with something bitter. “...cause i’m pretty sure he likes liz.”
you stared at him for a second, the playful mood from earlier completely gone. it felt like the two of you were autumn. cold and warm air clashing, shifting from sunny to stormy, windy, and freezing in a matter of minutes.
“ah… okay? why are you telling me this?”
the words came out faster than his brain allowed them to. sunghoon shifted in his seat. “i don’t think he’s good for you. i mean… jake’s great as a friend, but he’s kind of all over the place. he doesn’t really commit to anything. one day he’s all in, the next he’s distracted by something new. i just don’t think he’d treat you—”
“sunghoon, stop.”
your voice was firm. sharp.
you looked up at him with a frown—in confusion, disbelief, and disrespect that he just said that to your face. you gripped your purse tighter on your lap.
“he’s your friend. why are you saying all these things—? i don’t like this at all. you know how close we are.”
the silence that followed was heavy and awkward.
you unbuckled your seatbelt quickly and opened the car door. “i’m going to pretend like i didn’t hear this at all.” before stepping out, you turned back to him one last time, expression tight and clearly, clearly, disappointed.
“i’m really uncomfortable with you saying all this about jaeyun. um… thanks for the ride, anyway. goodnight.”
you closed the door with a soft but firm click and walked toward your house without looking back. sunghoon sat frozen in the driver’s seat for a second, staring at your retreating figure.
“wait—fuck… shit…” he muttered under his breath. he quickly pressed the button to roll down the passenger window. “yn—!” he called out, but you had already disappeared. the door shut behind you with a thud.
the street fell silent again.
sunghoon leaned back heavily against the headrest, dragging both hands down his face.
“what the fuck did i do…” he whispered to the empty car. “why did i do that… ugh, i’m so fucking dumb…”
his heart was pounding. the jealousy he wasn’t able to control that had been simmering all day had boiled over in the worst way possible. he’d badmouth his own bestfriend—jake, of all people—in front of you. the one person whose opinion mattered most to him.
sunghoon groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
“she’s never gonna look at me the same way again… fuck.”
the silence in the car felt suffocating. this was the most the car has been through since the last years sunghoon got it from his dad. his chest was tight, regret clawing at him from the inside. he needed something—anything—to take the edge off.
why the fuck did i say that?
sunghoon knew why.
he reached down toward the glove box where he usually kept his pack of cigarettes. his slender fingers fumbled blindly in the dark, brushing against the small box before he fished it out without thinking.
instead of his dark marlboro pack—it was a white box instead.
one wish willow.
the illustration of the glowing branch stared back at him. the tagline at the bottom suddenly felt louder than it had in the shop.
wishes do come true. be careful what you ask for.
oh. he was supposed to give this to you.
sunghoon’s thumb brushed over the smooth packaging. his mind was still reeling of annoyance, disappointment, and that ugly twist of jealousy all mixing together. the way you defended jake so quickly. the way you looked at him with discomfort and disappointment before getting out of the car. the way you wanted to ask jake to go with you to the party.
his chest felt tight. his jaw clenched. if he were to keep and give it to you later, what would change? it won’t magically get rid of tonight.
sunghoon’s fingers tightened around the box, he turned it over and read the instructions printed on the back in that minimalistic, fun, red font:
usage:
hold the one wish willow gently with both hands.
state your wish clearly and with intention.
break in half.
disposal: after granting your wish, the one wish willow loses its magical properties.
sunghoon mouthed the words as he read them, almost scoffing under his breath.
he looked up toward the front door of your house, the porch lights still on.
“as if…” he muttered, half bitter, half exhausted.
but his hands didn’t put the box down.
in the silence of the car, with the weight of the night pressing down and all the emotions came washing down upon him—sunghoon opened the box and held the small twig in both thumbs and indexes.
wishes do come true.
be careful who you ask for.
his voice came out low, raw, and half–serious.
“i wish yn ln loved me more than anyone else in the fucking world.”
crack.
sunghoon broke the one wish willow in half.
the sound was small and almost insignificant. like it was… nothing. a toy. a faint shimmer of something—dust? light? glitter?—seemed to sparkle for a split second before disappearing into thin air.
sunghoon let out a drag, shaky breath and rested his forehead against the steering wheel, eyes closed.
the broken pieces of the willow sat in his lap.
a beat passed.
then a second.
then a whole minute.
nothing happened.
sunghoon let out a bitter scoff, tossing the broken pieces of the one wish willow onto the passenger seat. he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for—he bought it at a fuckin’ crystal toy store for fucks sakes.
“fuck it,” he muttered. “should’ve known it was a scam anyway.”
he reached for the gear shift, ready to drive off—when a soft knock came from the passenger window.
shit—
sunghoon froze. through the glass, he saw the upper half of your body just standing there by his car. frowning slightly in confusion, he slowly rolled down the window.
it took you a few seconds to crouch down smoothly, elbows resting on the open window frame so your face was level with his. your eyes looked… different. not completely wrong, but off. a little too intense? a little too focused.
like something behind them was watching him more closely than usual.
you were probably still disappointed and bothered by it—and wanted to give sunghoon another warning.
“uh, yn… hey,” sunghoon said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “i just… i just had to pull up directions.”
you didn’t respond right away. you just looked at him for a long second, head slightly tilted.
“you said you had something for me?” your voice was soft, almost too soft.
oh, crap—sunghoon glanced at the broken willow twig on the passenger seat. thank god it was so dark that you didn’t notice it. “oh yeah, i uh… i left it at my house.”
the silence that followed felt heavy.
you visibly deflated a little, eyes dropping. “oh… okay…”
the quiet stretched. your fingers started tapping lightly on the window frame—slow, rhythmic, almost absentminded. the movement felt a little too precise. a little too repetitive. it’s almost like you didn’t want to get back inside.
sunghoon’s stomach twisted.
“i can bring it to work tomorrow…” he offered quietly, smiling.
you blinked slowly, then gave him a small nod. “um… okay…”
your voice dragged just slightly at the end. you stayed crouched there for another second, staring at him with the same unnervingly focused gaze. sunghoon swallowed the lump in his throat nervously, licking his lips.
“well—uh, goodnight yn.”
“wait, actually…” you tilted your head, eyes still locked on him. “um, i think you could use some company tonight. i mean, i did just lose my cat—”
sunghoon frowned. “...you lost your cat?”
you blinked again, like a glitch had passed through your expression. you shook your head, then quickly corrected yourself. “oh wait, i mean you lost your cat. i’m sorry… i’m so sorry for your loss.” your voice softened, but there was something oddly eager beneath. “what should we—are you—do you wanna come inside?”
sunghoon stared at you, visibly confused. his eyes flicked for a split second to the broken piece of the one wish willow.
could it be…
“... are you okay?”
you smiled—soft, almost too sweet. “are you okay?”
“yeah, i’m okay,” he answered slowly.
“well… why don’t you come inside?” you offered again, fingers still lightly tapping the window frame. “we can—you know, talk about your cat and have a few drinks together.”
the invitation hung in the air. your eyes never left his face.
sunghoon rubbed his temple, trying to make sense of the situation. “yn, i’m a little confused…” he chuckled softly, dry. “i think you’re drunk.”
“no, i’m not,” you said quickly, almost defensively. “really.”
he sighed softly. “just… get some sleep, okay?”
that threw you off.
“no, no, no.” you stood abruptly, crossing your arms over your chest. your posture was stiff, almost childlike in its stubbornness. “i know what you’re trying to do.”
sunghoon blinked. “what—?”
you didn’t answer. instead, you reached for the door handle, pulled it open, and slid back into the seat without warning. you sat directly on the broken pieces, the twig crunching faintly beneath you.
“you’re trying to get rid of me,” you said, voice low but strangely intense, eyes fixed on him again.
sunghoon’s heart jumped.
“what? no, no, no—” he stammered, hands lifting slightly in surrender and defense. he could never get rid of you as hard as he tried to. “i just—i just think you’re not in your right head right now.”
you pouted—a soft, almost childish expression crossing your face as you leaned over and pressed your cheek against the dashboard, eyes still locked on him.
sunghoon thought you were cute.
“i promise you i am…” you murmured. “i just… i feel really bad about your cat. you know how much i love cats, right? i don’t want you to be alone. and honestly… i don’t want to be alone either.”
sunghoon’s chest tightened. the way you said it—so vulnerable, so sincere. especially when you barely opened up to him like you did to jake—made something inside him soften despite his brain’s ringing warning bells.
“why? is everything okay?”
you stayed quiet for a moment, cheek still resting against the cool surface. then your voice came out smaller. “well… i don’t think my grandmother wants me around anymore…”
the words hit him harder than expected. your grandmother—? the same one who had been taking care of you since infancy? didn’t want you around anymore? you looked so small like this—curled slightly in his passenger seat, eyes glassy. sunghoon felt a strong wave of sympathy washing over him.
“oh… what? i—i’m sorry, yn… do you, um… wanna talk about it?”
you shook your head slowly, still not lifting your cheek from the dashboard.
“...not here.”
——
sunghoon wasn’t sure if you eventually convinced him, or if he convinced himself to let you come inside.
the two of you walked into his house. the moment the door closed behind you, you looked around with wide, curious eyes.
“your house is so nice…” you whispered, almost reverent as you took off your flats by the door. sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self–conscious. had he known he was going to have you over—
“i like it here.”
he glanced at the lotion bottle on the coffee table.
“oh, thanks… it’s your first time here, right? i’m sorry if it’s not really that clean… i wasn’t expecting company tonight so—”
he didn’t even get to finish his sentence.
while sunghoon was still talking, you had already wandered off toward the kitchen like you knew your way around. that gave him the time to put the bottle somewhere else though. you stopped in the middle of the room, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply.
“it smells like you.” you said softly.
sunghoon froze by the kitchen arch.
“...me? like… bad?”
you turned to him with a small, dreamy smile and shook your head.
“no. it’s nice. i like it.”
warmth bloomed and spread through his chest despite everything. sunghoon had forgotten about the whole incident that happened in front of your house. he cleared his throat.
“yn,” he paused, trying to regain some control of the situation. “you need some sleep, okay? i’ll get you some water.”
sunghoon moved toward the fridge, but you stayed standing in the middle of his kitchen, watching his every move with that same unnervingly soft gaze. sunghoon poured you a glass of cold water, standing in front of you as he held it up.
“here.”
you looked up to him. instead of taking it in your own hands, you wrapped your hands around his’ and brought the glass to your lips, taking a sip.
a few minutes later, the two of you were in his bedroom.
you sat on the edge of his bed, still fully clothed, one leg hanging off the side, the other folded beneath your weight. sunghoon lingered in the doorway, like a father bidding goodnight.
“i’m sorry if i was being weird earlier,” you said quietly. your finger traced the hem of your midi skirt. “i don’t know what was wrong with me.”
“it’s okay,” sunghoon replied, smiling. his voice gentle. “you don’t have to explain it. you’ve been through a lot, so just take all the time that you need, alright?”
you nodded slowly, looking small on his bed.
sunghoon looked around, unsure what to do before he reached over and turned off the main light switch, leaving only the tall floor lamp by the end of the room. the warm, dim lighting cast long shadows across the walls.
he was about to say goodnight and leave when your voice stopped him.
“wait.”
sunghoon turned back.
“will you sleep with me?”
sunghoon froze. “what?”
he looked at the state of you on his bed—slightly disheveled, looking a bit like a pretty mess. “i don’t think i should…”
you looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “please… i can’t be alone right now. i’ll get in my head if i’m in here by myself.”
a beat passed.
sunghoon felt a heavy wave of guilt and unsure–rity settled in his chest. he exhaled slowly.
“...yeah. i can do that.”
he kicked off his home slippers by the door. you didn’t waste a single second either—started undressing right there and then, peeling off your top and skirt. sunghoon quickly looked away out of respect, but the mirror in front of his bed betrayed him. he caught the reflection of your body as you stripped down to just your underwear.
his throat tightened.
he wasn’t complaining.
shit… your covered breasts behind your white bra was even better than your bare tits in his dream. sunghoon loved the fats in your body, the little, subtle childhood scars and marks.
when you were done, he turned around and approached the bed slowly. sunghoon reached out and softly touched your arm, almost like he was making sure you were real and on his bed. you gently pulled him toward you.
the two of you ended up sitting against the headboard. he stiffened as you immediately curled into his side, placing your head on his shoulder and nuzzling closer, almost like a cat seeking warmth. one of your legs draped lightly over his as you got comfortable, letting out a soft, content hum.
“i needed this,” you whispered, voice low and breathy against his neck.
sunghoon’s heart fluttered. he couldn’t contain his smile. “really?”
“mmhm…” you rubbed your cheek against his shoulder in a slow, affectionate motion. “i’m sorry about your cat again…”
there was something almost feline in the way you moved—slow, seeking constant contact. you pressed closer, tits flushed against his bicep. it was like you wanted to melt to him, fingers tracing patterns on his chest like marking territory.
sunghoon swallowed hard, one arm hesitantly wrapping around you.
you shifted slightly, then gently took his chin between your pretty fingers and tilted his face toward yours. your eyes were half–lidded, lips parted as you leaned in.
sunghoon’s breath hitched.
“wait—” he whispered, pulling back just slightly. “i… i think you’re drunk.”
you shook your head slowly, still holding his chin. your voice was soft, but steady. “i’m not. i promise.”
he gazed into your eyes. in the warm lamplight, they looked darker, deeper, almost… bottomless. for the first time, he saw—really saw—his reflection in your eyes and realised how much he had wanted this.
how long sunghoon had ached for you. how badly he had needed you to look at him like this. all the longing, jealousy, nights thinking of you—it was at this moment that worthed it all.
sunghoon must’ve been the easiest man ever—
he succumbed.
he leaned in and kissed you—slow at first, then deeper and more passionate. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with pent–up hunger. the kiss was hungry and desperate and full of everything he’d kept to himself.
you melted into it immediately, letting out a soft, needy sound against his mouth as your fingers curled into his shirt.
the two of you kissed. and kissed.
and the longer it went on, the more desperate it became. you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as your hands cupped his face. sunghoon’s hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, tugging onto the clasps of your bra.
he’s so lost in the heat of everything he’d wanted for so long.
his fingers gently touched the side of your neck.
and something in you snapped.
your eyes flew open. so wide it almost popped out of your socket. for a split second, the hazy, overly affectionate version of you vanished. you realised you were kissing sunghoon. half–naked. in his bed.
terror flooded your expression.
you shoved him back hard, scrambling off his lap and falling backward onto the floor with a loud thud. your back hit the floor.
“sunghoon—oh my god!” you gasped, eyes wide with horror as you stared up at him from the ground.
sunghoon looked completely panicked, frozen at where he was. “what?! what, what?! holy shit?!”
you sat up quickly, covering your chest with your arms, face burning with embarrassment. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry! i’m so sorry—!”
the terror on your face melted away into an apologetic look. you stayed on the floor for a moment, blinking up at him with wide, watery eyes. “i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…” you kept whispering, voice small.
sunghoon’s heart was beating so fast—still in shock, breathing hard.
“no, shit—what was that?!”
you flinched at his tone. “don’t yell at me… i don’t know… i thought i saw something!”
your eyes welled up with tears. the sudden switch made you emotionally raw, and the sudden outburst from him broke something in you. your lips trembled as tears started falling down your cheeks.
sunghoon’s anger and confusion immediately crumbled into guilt.
“...hey…” he quickly got off the bed and crouched down, gently pulling you up from the floor. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to yell.”
you let him lift you, still sniffing. “i really don’t know… it's a panic attack, i—i panicked.”
he sat back on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap like a baby—one arm wrapped around your back, the other cradling your head as he tucked you into his chest.
“i—it’s okay, i was just—” he murmured, rubbing slow circles on your back. “i was just surprised… cause you kissed me first.”
you curled into him, burying your face in his neck, still letting out soft, hiccuping sobs. your arms wrapped tightly around him like you were afraid he’d disappear. sunghoon held you close, heart still racing.
when sunghoon felt your body relaxed, he kissed the top of your head.
“don’t do that next time…”
——
the next day at work felt strangely normal.
you and sunghoon stepped into the video rental store together after arriving at the same time—having rode the same car and all. the bell above chimed as you both entered.
“oh, right. can i stay—”
before you could finish your sentence, the store manager, kim, appeared from the sides and immediately grabbed your arm, pulling you aside. “yn! i don’t know how many times i have to tell people we don’t sell porn here—”
the rest of her sentence was cut off as she dragged you away.
sunghoon barely had the time to process everything before jake popped right in front of him like a damn jack in the box.
he turned jake around and shoved his friend toward the staff breakroom just behind the entrance wall. once they were out of sight, jake turned on him.
“what happened last night?”
sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. he tasted the words on the tip of his tongue, unsure how to put it in words. last night was… to blame on the alcohol.
“you wouldn’t believe me.”
jake’s eyes widened. he couldn’t believe it—his childhood friend, and his bestfriend—that had been liking you for so long. finally—?
“you guys FUCKED?”
sunghoon’s eyes widened, and he was quick to slap a hand over jake’s mouth, muffling the loud exclamation. “oh my gosh, keep it down!” sunghoon hissed, glancing nervously around the room. “and no… we didn’t.”
jake pulled sunghoon’s hand off his mouth, looking suspicious. “then what the hell happened? you didn’t update us at all last night, and now you’re coming to work together? something’s fishy.”
sunghoon leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. “we just… we just slept together, that’s all.”
jake raised an eyebrow. “huh, okay.” then he grinned again.
“well… how was she?”
“um, i don’t know…” sunghoon hesitated, looking visibly conflicted. “she’s… she’s acting weird last night.”
“weird? how?”
sunghoon paused, recalling the night in fragments. after the thing… that happened, sunghoon cuddled you to sleep, and you woke up the next day just fine. he dropped you off at your house to change, waited outside, then drove the two of you to work.
“well, first she said her grandma’s kicking her out.”
jake’s face instantly shifted from playful to shocked. “no way?” his voice dropped. “she’s been living with her grandma since we were kids. what happened?”
“i don’t know,” sunghoon admitted, shrugging. “we didn’t talk about it last night. but… she’s having like, this mental breakdown. she’d freak out one second, then be all happy and clingy the next, then start crying. it was… weird. really weird.”
jake stared at him, processing everything.
“damn… that doesn’t sound like her at all.”
sunghoon nodded slowly, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.
a beat of silence passed between them.
“you think she’s on… molly again…?”
jake frowned deeply, crossing his arms. “she’s been sober for almost a year. she has no reason to… unless because of her grandma, that is.”
“shit, maybe,” sunghoon muttered, rubbing his face. “i don’t know how to ask her though.”
“i’ll do it then,” jake said without hesitation. if anything, it’s weird jake didn’t know about it. you’d always come to him firsthand. sunghoon glanced toward the breakroom door, suddenly paranoid.
“is she still staring?”
jake darted his eyes toward the entrance, peeking through the small gap in the door. he’s met with the sight of you standing behind the cashier machine, body looking forward, but head’s turned towards where jake and sunghoon’s conversation was taking place.
you were smiling.
“yeah.”
——
jake drove you home after work.
the moment he got back to his apartment, sunghoon dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes, and went straight to his computer. he opened a browser and typed into the search bar:
does the one wish willow actually work?
u/sorrowfull: no it’s an urban legend. my cousin swore it worked but he was just high as fuck lol.
u/rik999: yeah it really granted a wish for me back in 2023!
u/godaddy: it’s not supposed to be used. my dad still has it unopened till now cause it’s just a collector thing.
u/xuser: don’t even play with that thing lol i wished for braces cos my teeth was fucked and now theyre PERFECT
u/tickdrip: placebo effect at best. one can try though.
sunghoon stared at the screen, conflicted and confused. he licked his lips, index finger tapping on the mouse like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. with a heavy sigh, he eventually shut his laptop, rubbing his face.
what the hell am i even doing…
for all he knew, his wish didn’t even come true, and it was just a coincidence. maybe you had a change of mind. maybe you finally had the courage to tell him you liked him. maybe—
knock knock.
sunghoon whipped his head toward the door. it’s almost eleven, and he wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour. regardless, he walked over and opened it.
you—
you were standing there in a thin spaghetti strap black dress that hugged your figure beautifully, full makeup done perfectly—glossy lips, soft eyeshadow, curled lashes, flushed cheeks, the works. you looked stunning—it genuinely took him aback for a second.
“hi, hoonie,” you said softly, a shy smile on your face.
“...yn? what’s up?” where are you going?” he asked, still a little stunned.
you fidgeted with the hem of your dress, looking nervous. “i didn’t know what to wear…”
“what do you mean?”
you bit your lip, clearly nervous.
“i—i’m really sorry about last night. jake told me what happened… you were freaked out—”
“no, no, it’s okay, yn!” sunghoon said quickly, waving his hands in front of him. you looked so cute and he was way too down to even regard everything last night as odd. even if it was.
you stayed in the doorway for a moment, then swallowed the lump in your throat. “i probably shouldn’t have taken anything…”
a beat.
sunghoon blinked. “huh?”
you looked up at him. the outside light behind you made your eyes look darker than it already was. “yeah… i, um, i was on mdma and i was drunk. but i promise… no more.”
“right, okay…” sunghoon said slowly, trying to process everything. he knew you’d taken drugs before, but he never knew it was this bad. “well, do you remember… stuff?”
you stayed quiet for a second, eyes lowered.
“most of it, yeah,” you finally answered. “if i was weird… it was because of the stuff i’m going through. i didn’t mean it…”
sunghoon’s eyes narrowed with a clear disappointment. your gaze shifted, a flicker of concern crossing your face as you noticed his reaction.
he looked away for a moment.
“...oh. okay.”
you took a small step closer.
“also… i want to be transparent about some things."
sunghoon’s heart spiked. out of pure fear—fear of being rejected, fear of hearing you say it was all a mistake, that you didn’t mean any of it, that you two should just go back to being friends and nothing more, or worse stopped being friends at all—
he quickly cut in.
“you don’t have to explain—”
“i know you like me.”
the words hit him like a truck.
sunghoon froze, quickly thrown off.
“no—i—why? what?”
your face dropped instantly. the hopeful, nervous expression you’d been wearing shattered into something vulnerable and raw, like you’d… just been rejected on the spot.
then, after a heavy beat of silence and unspoken things, sunghoon began, voice quieter.
“...do you like me?”
you looked up at him, eyes soft and vulnerable.
“would it freak you out if i said yes?”
a long beat passed.
it was an oddly romantic moment—the kind you only see in movies. sunghoon stared at you, completely caught off guard. his lips parted slightly in surprise. then, slowly, a shy, disbelieving smile spread across his face as he let out a soft chuckle, almost like he couldn’t believe this was real.
he rubbed the back of his neck, voice quiet.
“how long have you felt this way?”
you shifted on your feet, nervous but honest. “it happened over time… maybe with all the time we hung out, and by the time i knew it, i just—” you looked at him, head tilted, searching his face.
“don’t you have feelings for me?”
sunghoon covered his mouth with his hand for a second, shy and overwhelmed. this was the moment he had dreamed about for so long—late nights wondering if you’d ever look at him the way he looked at you, replaying every small interaction in his head, wishing for exactly…
this.
“yeah,” he finally admitted. “i do.”
your face softened. you stepped closer, gently tugged the front of his shirt, and wrapped your arms around him. sunghoon didn’t hesitate. he hugged your back tightly, one arm around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. you stood there in the doorway, holding each other like the world didn’t exist.
after a long moment, he pulled back just enough to whisper against your hair,
“do you wanna sleep over tonight?”
——
sunghoon slammed you against the wall, kissing you fiercely. all the months of longing, stolen glances, and quiet admiration poured out in that single moment. his mouth was hungry, desperate, claiming yours like he’d been starving for you.
his hands roamed your body—one gripping your waist, the other sliding up your thigh, pushing the hem of your black dress higher.
“ah, babe—” you moaned into his mouth, hands fisting his shirt as you kissed him back just as desperately. the pent–up lust between you was explosive. sunghoon groaned, grinding against you as he pulled the top of your dress along with your bra, exposing your pretty tits.
his mouth left yours to trail hot, open–mouthed kisses down your neck, then lower, sucking and biting at your skin while his hands squeezed and caressed your perky nipples.
you arched into him, gasping, fingers tangled in his locks.
“f—fuck, hoonie…”
sunghoon was losing himself completely—the way you tasted, the way you sounded, the way your body responded to every touch. he wanted to devour you. whole and full. wanted to mark you. wanted you to be his in every possible way.
then, mid–moan, your pearly eyes locked with his.
your eyes widened like it was going to bulge out—expression shifted to sheer panic.
with a frantic shove, you pushed him hard. sunghoon stumbled backward onto the bed as you let out a blood–curling scream, body trembling violently. almost instantly, you hugged your body, colour drained from your body.
“sunghoon, what the fuck?!”
he remained on the bed, shocked and unfazed for a split second—still breathing hard, lips swollen from kissing you. your lipstick stained the corner of his lips.
but within moments, the switch flipped again.
you crawled on top of him like nothing had happened, straddling his waist and sitting on his stomach. your wetness through your thin panties rubbed against his skin as you leaned down and kissed him again, deep and possessive—like you couldn’t bear even a second of separation.
sunghoon didn’t question it. the disturbance registered as nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.
you pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips,
“sorry, baby…”
sunghoon smiled, hands sliding up your thighs, lifting up your dress until the pooled around your waist.
“it’s okay, baby,” he murmured, voice husky. “molly effect, hm?”
you giggled softly, nuzzling into his neck like a contented critter—pressing warm kisses along his jaw.
the two of you kissed again—slower this time, but no less hungry. your hands roamed his chest, then lower, until you slid down between his knees. sunghoon’s breath hitched as you settled on the floor in front of him, looking up at him with those dark, adoring eyes.
sunghoon couldn’t believe this was happening.
you reached for his belt, undoing it with clumsy but eager fingers. when you freed him—his cock was curvy and at a perfect size, if not slightly bigger, for a lean man like sunghoon. it throbbed visibly in the air between you, the tip already glistening with beads of precum.
“s—shit, baby, look how hard you made me…”
you smiled, leaning to press a soft kiss to the tip first, almost reverent. your lips brushed against the sensitive head as you murmured, warm air hitting the slit.
“you’re so big…”
you kept kissing the tip tenderly like it’s his lips—then dragged your tongue slowly across it, licking up the beads of precum with a soft, satisfied hum. the taste of him seemed to spur you on. you opened your mouth wider and took him in—slow at first, letting your tongue swirl around the head before sinking down further.
sunghoon let out a low groan, head falling back for a second. “fuck…”
his hand gently threading through your hair as you worked him with passionate, wet strokes. your mouth was hot and eager, sucking with just the right amount of pressure while your hand stroked what you couldn't fit. you moaned around him, the vibrations sending up sparks up his spine.
“fuck… just like that, baby…” he whispered, hips twitching slightly but holding back, letting you set the pace. you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes watery but full of devotion as you took him deeper—hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head.
then, you pulled back just enough to catch a breather—lips glossy.
“i’ve never done this before…”
sunghoon’s eyes widened, breath ragged.
“at all?”
you tilted your head, a small, hazy smile on your face. your hands continued to jerk him off back and forth, catching your own slicky saliva on your grip.
“mmm… i think so?”
there was a strange, fleeting disconnect in your works—like your memories were clashing with one another. but sunghoon was too far gone to question it.
you leaned back in, taking him deeper again. the wet heat of your mouth, the way you moaned around him, the way you looked up at him like pleasing him was the only thing that mattered was overwhelming.
his breathing grew heavier, low groans slipping out as you worked him with sensual devotion.
sunghoon’s breathing grew heavier. low, broken groans slipped from his throat as your head bobbed, tongue swirling around the underside of his cock while your hand stroked the base. every so often you’d pull back to kiss and lick the wet tip, almost in a teasing manner before sinking down again.
“baby,” he rasped, fingers tightening in your hair. “you’re so good at this… feels so fucking good.”
the sight of you on your knees, lips stretched around him, tits wet with your drippy saliva—it was better than any dream he’d had. imagining this exact moment, paled in comparison to the real thing—he was losing himself completely.
his hips started twitching, thighs sensing as pleasure coiled tighter and tiger in his tummy. “hngh—baby…” he groaned, voice strained. “i need to be inside you.”
sunghoon pulled you up slightly with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen. without a word, you climbed back onto the bed and laid down, pulling him on top of you.
he hovered over you, drinking in the sight. you looked breathtaking underneath him—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair fanned out prettily on his pillow, black dress bunched around your waist. your tits rose and fell with every quick breath, nipples hardened from arousal. your legs spread for him, panties pushed to the side.
“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. “i’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.”
you giggled shyly, biting your lip as you looked up at him.
“come on… love me.”
“i do love you,” sunghoon breathed.
then he pushed in.
the first thrust was slow but deep, stretching you open around his curved length. you gasped, back arching slightly as he bottomed out. sunghoon groaned, forehead pressing against yours.
“fuck… you’re so tight.”
you moaned softly, nails digging into his shoulders.
“you’re my first—oh gosh, you’re my first…”
that single sentence sent a bolt of raw heat through him. sunghoon’s hips snapped forward harder, fucking you deeper strokes. the thought that he was your first—that no one else had ever had you like this—made something primal inside him snap.
he thrusted harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room along with your moans and his groans.
it was going good—your pussy was tight and heavenly, and sunghoon had never felt a hold other than his hand so good like this. but then—
you suddenly laughed—a bright, almost delirious sound—and tilted your head back, arching your back as pleasure overtook you.
it freaked sunghoon out a little.
your body convulsed underneath him as uncontrollable giggles spilled from your lips. your eyes rolled back, whites showing for a terrifying second, like you found this whole situation fucking hilarous.
it was wrong. inhumane, almost.
his hand shot up instinctively, wrapping around your throat—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to pin you down and stop the violent twitching.
“no, no… don’t do that, baby,” he rasped, still buried deep inside you, hips faltering for a moment. “stay with me—look at me.”
the laughter cut off abruptly.
your body went still. then your eyes rolled back into place, focusing on him again. the eerie, too–wide smile slowly softened back into normal. the smile he loved so much. sunghoon’s cock tip then kissed the gummy spot inside you, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.
“hngh—!” you gasped, eyes momentarily shut in pleasure before they opened again, finding his—but not entirely looking.
“...sorry, baby,” you whispered sweetly, blinking.
Summary: Y/N has built her family a paradise inside the one place that should be impossible the center of a monster-filled mechanical maze but paradise always has a price, and hers is a secret she’ll do anything to protect. When a boy who trusts no one starts asking the one question she can’t survive answering, the walls of her perfect lie start closing in just as fast as the ones outside it.
Warning: Sci-Fi / Dystopian, Maze Runner au but with a twist ig, Slow Burn, Found Family, Enemies-to-Allies-to-Lovers (hardy harrrr), Character Death (multiple), Graphic Violence, Body Horror, Psychological Manipulation, Betrayal, Grief, Isolation, Self-Sacrifice, Human Experimentation, Mind Control.
[Masterlist]
Header by me
Chapter 1 — Sanctuary
— Y/N is the beloved leader of a hidden sanctuary carved out of a nightmare, but she’s hiding something from the family she’s built something that terrifies even her fiercest protector. When a new arrival is pulled up from the dark, his unsettling calm and sharper-than-should-be-possible instincts make it clear: he’s not buying the peace everyone else has fallen in love with.
[Read Here]
Chapter 2 — What the Wire Measures
— As an uneasy calm settles over the camp, the new boy starts quietly asking questions no one else dares to and getting answers that don’t add up. What he uncovers in the dead of night will force one broken man to finally admit the truth he’s been begging Y/N to let him speak.
[Read Here]
Chapter 3 — The Weight of Her Smile
— The lie collapses in front of everyone, and the fallout is immediate, brutal, and impossible to undo. As the camp turns on its leader and the cost of the truth becomes horrifyingly clear, Y/N finds out exactly who’s still willing to stand beside her when there’s nothing left to protect.
[Read Here]
Chapter 4 — The Blind Spot
— With trust in ruins and the clock running out faster than anyone expected, two unlikely allies risk everything on a desperate gamble to save what’s left of their family. But escaping the nightmare comes at a price no one saw coming and the truth waiting on the other side is worse than anything they left behind.
genre: childhood friends to lovers, smut, university-ish au
word count: 23.0k
warnings: smut (mndi), swearing, alcohol consumption, post graduation existentialism, the horrors of the modern job market, jealousy, insecurity, itty bitty age gap (reader is one year older), he’s obsessed he’s possessive he’s jealous but in a very jungwon way
note: I in fact did not keep it under 20k #oops. But I had lots of you in my comments and inbox telling me that you prefer longer fics anyway, so I hope you enjoy all 23k words of jungwon who years and pines over his childhood bestie <3
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One year your junior and a constant fixture in your life since before you lost your baby teeth, Yang Jungwon has always existed in a category of his own. You don’t see him as a brother, but you don’t see him as a man. He’s just… Jungwon. Steady, reliable, consistent Jungwon who’s always there when you need him.
It’s why you feel comfortable admitting to him the latest addition to your list of post-graduation anxieties: dating. Namely, the fact that no matter what you try, you just can’t seem to make it work. To make a connection stick. But Jungwon, despite all of his typical predictability, doesn’t take your complaints quite the way you expect him to.
or, you tell Jungwon that you think boys just don’t like you and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything quite so ridiculous.
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If you look at it from a distance and squint, there really isn’t anything wrong with Park Sunghoon.
In fact, if anything, he might be a little bit out of your league. With full lips, an easy smile, and long, dark hair that dusts over the angular planes of his cheekbones, he’s a sight for sore eyes. Especially since they are rather sore. Your eyes, that is.
You’ve spent the last week fine tuning your resume for all thirty-six job applications you fired off with crossed fingers and a silent prayer. Your daily screen time is reaching dangerous levels, and you doubt the blue light blocking glasses you picked up from the dollar store are doing much to mitigate the effects of it.
Life post-graduation has been like this, more or less. Six months ago, officially earning your university diploma felt like victory, like the end of a hard earned battle.
But now, you aren’t so sure. Not when the last one hundred eighty days have been nearly identical copies of monotonous despair, one rejected job application after another.
A cover letter here, a mission statement there, a detailed history of your personal opinion on the role of social media in modern society — that one had been for a marketing gig that you weren’t even interested in, not if the advertised salary were as low as the posting claimed. But at this point, you were starting to get desperate.
And still, it’s all been to no avail. Rejection after rejection. Ghosting after ghosting. Ridiculous, you think. These are hiring departments after all, not some frat boy you hooked up with last Friday after one too many shots of tequila. All your effort surely warrants at the very least a response.
But forty-seven of the eighty-nine jobs you’ve applied to in the last month seem to disagree.
And it’s not like you hate the part time gig you picked up at the flower shop a few blocks away from your apartment, but you didn’t work your ass off for four years, earning your degree in a specialized field, just to spend the rest of your life explaining the differences between roses and dahlias to men that piss off their girlfriends.
It’s disheartening, to say the least. Demoralizing. A rinse and repeat cycle that becomes more exhausting with each passing day, each unreturned email.
Most days, you feel a little bit like a shell of yourself. Hollowed from the inside out, just waiting for a scrap of decent news.
It’s why you only said no three times when Sophia suggested that maybe you break up the monotony with a little good, old-fashioned romance.
And not just romance. Dating, blind dating, because she swore the mystery of it all would make it more fun.
The first three times she suggested it, you waved her off easily with some half-witted excuse and a roll of your eyes.
But the fourth time, your friend caught you in a weak spot.
“Come on,” she’d insisted over an overpriced latte. She didn’t mind shelling out for a soy milk substitute, even. She was one of the lucky ones that managed to line up a job immediately after graduation, one she got from the third-year internship she had.
So Sophia had her big girl job and her big girl salary. You, on the other hand, were wincing at the bitter taste of drip coffee straight from the machine.
“I don’t know…” You’d trailed off, unsure. That morning, you’d received a rejection notice from a company you were genuinely excited about. The position matched your qualifications and professional interests to a T. You weren’t one to make premature bets, but when you clicked submit on the official application three weeks prior, part of you had felt like it was fate. A sure thing.
The email this morning proved you wrong.
Dear Candidate, it had started. Because of course, even after all the time you spent tailoring your resume to their standards, you weren’t even worth the effort of typing your name.
Thank you for your interest in joining our team. We regret to inform you that we have decided to move forward with other candidates at this time. If, in the future, other positions become available, please do not hesitate to apply again.
Rejection wasn’t anything new at this point, but this one stung. It felt personal.
You were tired of constantly hearing no, of always having every path blocked the second you worked up the courage to venture down it. You were desperate for something to take your mind off of it all.
You wanted to do something fun. And more than that, you needed a reminder that you weren’t a failure. That at least in some capacity, your time and your presence and your efforts were worth something.
If the only available context for that was a date, even a blind one, so be it.
“It’ll be fun,” Sophia insisted. “I promise. Besides, the guy I have in mind is really cool. He’s been at my company for a couple of years now, and he’s really friendly, even to the new hires. Comes off a little cold at first maybe, but I think he’s just a little shy. You’d like him.”
You still weren’t sold. You took another long sip of black coffee and winced at the taste of burnt beans.
“What was his name again?” you asked.
Sophia grinned, knowing she’d finally won. “Sunghoon,” she told you, smile entirely too smug for your liking. “Park Sunghoon.”
Now, a week later, you can’t help but curse yourself for caving. After all, blind dates are a far cry from romance, and the only thing that your time with Sunghoon is doing, lovely as he may be, is giving you a different source for your headaches.
Across from you, Sunghoon takes a slow sip of red wine. His eyes stay where they should. You can at least appreciate that Sophia didn’t set you up with a total sleaze. If anything, you think he looks a bit unsure when he meets your gaze.
After another moment of stilted silence, he asks, “What do you like to do for fun?” You watch as Sunghoon swirls his half full glass before setting it back down on the table. Aerating it, probably. He strikes you as the kind of person that isn’t entirely bullshitting when they say they know their wines.
It’s a perfectly normal question, run-of-the-mill for a first date. And yet, your mind can’t seem to do anything but come up completely blank.
What do you like to do for fun? Even privately, you're beginning to wonder. It’s as if the job search has taken any joy you used to find in your free time and turned it into existential dread.
You like to go for walks, but it’s been extra rainy these days and you hate how the late autumn air makes your skin feel sticky after just a few minutes. Not to mention the end of season mosquitoes. You swear they’re bigger than any other time of year.
You like to read, but the last time you opened a book for pleasure was half a year ago. You’re pretty sure that same exact novel is still sitting half-finished beneath your bedside table.
Cooking is nice for stress relief, you suppose, but your meals are more for function than show. You doubt Sunghoon wants to hear about the frozen spinach you sautéed last night.
You have been catching up on the latest season of a ridiculously staged reality TV show lately, but you can hardly own up to that. If an hour’s worth of catty drama and hair pulling every Sunday night is the first hobby you think of, Sunghoon will no doubt think you’re the most vapid person he’s ever met.
So instead you say, “Oh, you know.” You try a laugh, hoping it will make you seem easy going instead of cagey. “Things.”
Sunghoon just arches a brow. He doesn’t know. That’s why he asked.
And it’s not like it’s a crime to be awkward on first dates, but you’re starting to feel like you’d be given a life sentence without parole if it was.
Desperate to get his gaze off of you, you return the question. “What about you?”
Maybe the universe will spare you and Sunghoon will be equally bad at condensing his life into bite-sized pieces easily digestible on first dates. Maybe his good luck starts and ends with his face and he’ll be equally tight-lipped about his own interests.
But then, after a pause to gather his thoughts, he starts talking. Your hope for equal footing starts to circle the drain with more urgency.
“I’ve been really into exercising lately,” he tells you. “I grew up figure skating, so it’s been nice to get back to doing something more physical. It’s been great, too, trying out some new protein-focused recipes and getting out for runs when the weather allows it. I really miss the ice, but it just isn’t feasible with work and everything else these days. It’s been fun to try out some new hobbies that are somewhat similar.”
“Oh,” you flounder for a moment. It’s truly pathetic, you think. Maybe talking about yourself is difficult, but how are you so unable to even respond to his answers? “That’s nice.”
Sunghoon, to both his credit and Sophia’s, really does seem to be a nice guy. He’s trying. Doing his best to keep the conversation going.
“Do you like to exercise?” he asks.
You wonder distantly if following a YouTube video at home on yoga for stress relief once in a while counts.
Deciding it doesn’t, at least not to a former figure skater, you shrug. “Not really.”
“Oh,” he nods. After a moment of awkward silence, he asks, “What do you think about the wine?”
It’s a simple question, an easy question, but it’s hard to get momentum once you’ve lost it. To you, this date already feels a bit like a sinking ship and even a question as simple as this feels like a test you’ll inevitably fail.
“It’s nice,” you say. “Goes well with the food.” And unfortunately does very little to soothe your frayed nerves.
“I agree,” Sunghoon nods. “Apparently it’s made from grapes grown in a specific region of southern France. They get more sunlight than the average vineyard, and the soil is fertilized in some special way that makes the flavor more intense.”
He smiles at you, and it’s objectively gorgeous. The kind of look that you feel like you should be fawning over, that you should go home dreaming about.
Park Sunghoon is the kind of guy that feels made for fantasies. Thinking about it now, you’re not really sure how he could even be single, or how Sophia managed to convince him to see you tonight.
But no matter how long you wait for the butterflies to come, they just… don’t.
It’s not because you don’t like him, but the idea of getting to know him, of letting him get to know you, is suddenly exhausting.
You’re afraid that whatever parts of yourself you reveal will come up short, will inevitably be found lacking. Your hobbies aren’t interesting enough for a guy like him. You’re not particularly well-traveled or well-read, and you did well in your degree but not enough for it to be part of a dinner conversation.
You just… you don’t feel interesting. Not in the kind of way that guys like him are attracted to. So when you go home after another half hour of stilted conversation and too-long lulls of silence, you’re not daydreaming about his smile or his dimples or the second date he definitely won’t ask you on.
Instead, you wait until you’re out of eyesight to let the smile you’ve been keeping plastered to your lips fall from your face.
Looking out at the sky, the sun that’s beginning to set on the horizon doesn’t feel like an omen or a fresh start. It just feels like a sunset. The end of another day full of nothing special. Unremarkable. Ordinary.
You’re not giddy or excited or particularly moved at all. You’re not angry either, though. Not disappointed. If anything, you feel a strange sense of hollowness, one with a glare that’s especially apparent under the street lights that are just beginning to glow.
You miss the days when things felt exciting, when you would meet the eye of someone cute across a lecture hall and go home daydreaming about it. Spinning around your room, kicking your feet like a schoolgirl with a crush.
It’s not Sophia’s fault. It’s not even Park Sunghoon’s. But when you finally get back home to your apartment and flick on the lights of your empty bedroom, all you do is sigh.
…..
You thought that when you walked across your university stage six long months ago and were officially given your diploma, you’d be done drowning your post-midterm stress with cheap beer.
But you forgot to account for one small detail — Jungwon.
You suppose your friendship with him might look a little strange from the outside, but he’s been a constant in your life since before you even knew how to tie your own shoes.
Like most childhood friendships, it wasn’t forged of your own volition. Your mother decided the summer before you started kindergarten that her new favorite hobby was going to be gardening. Which was fine and all, except for the fact that she knew literally nothing about gardening and had killed just about every houseplant she ever owned.
To her credit, she tried. She asked the kind elderly lady working the till at the garden supply store for advice and bought the overpriced gloves and trowel she suggested. She scoured blogs and Wikipedia articles and online forums for all the best and latest in flower cultivation.
But your mother simply did not have a green thumb, and after months of watching from her window in silent pity, Mrs. Yang decided to do something about it.
She took one look at your mother’s wilted tiger lilies and sighed. Gently, because even in her exasperation she managed to be kind, a trait she passed onto her son.
You weren’t so interested in whatever she told your mom about fertilizer and shearing, though. Nor were you really interested in the garden at all.
But you did find the boy currently hiding behind Mrs. Yang’s practical work pants far more fascinating than anything you’d seen in months.
Before school started, finding another kid your age was like striking gold. An only child, you were doted on by your parents but only rarely had the opportunity to play with other kids. This one, even if he was determined to hide out of sight, felt like a gift, a friend you were determined to make yours.
Back then, he was a shy kid.
It had taken a fair amount of coaxing from his mother, but he finally found the courage to meet your eye. To come out from his hiding spot and introduce himself.
Jungwon, he said his name was, and you gave him yours in return.
You asked about his birthday and could hardly contain the smug smile that spread across your lips when you realized he was younger than you. A whole ten months. Practically a baby. Nowhere near ready to start kindergarten, like you were. He’d have to wait a whole nother year.
Other than the bragging rights it afforded you, you didn’t mind so much.
That summer, Mrs. Yang helped your mother turn her misshapen, weed-addled, overgrown mess of a flower bed into something truly beautiful.
And nearly every time she came over, she brought Jungwon in tow. The two of you weren’t trusted to wander far yet, but he made your afternoons far more interesting, even under the watchful gaze of your mothers.
He was excited about the same things you were — searching for bugs in the flower bed, digging in the dirt with the plastic shovel set you’d been given for your last birthday, and building homes for the fairies you convinced him really existed using fallen leaves and twigs.
Your friendship might have begun as one of convenience, but the long, sunny afternoons you spent together ensured that none of it was forced.
Your mothers were thrilled too. Both of you were overly curious only children, and it was nice to have your attention occupied elsewhere, to share private smiles at how sweet your little friendship was becoming.
They sighed when you came back from an afternoon of playing with dirt smudged across your clothes and cheeks and cooed when you fell asleep after washing up, sprawled out across your living room floor with pillows you’d pulled off the couch.
Even though you’d been anticipating it for months, the beginning of kindergarten was something you started to dread. And the further you got in your academic journey, the one-year gap between you started to feel less like victory and more like a curse.
You still remember the failed math quiz you brought home from second grade one afternoon, a big, red F written across the top even though you were usually excellent with times tables.
It had taken a fair amount of coaxing, but your mother finally got the truth from you. How you were thinking that if you managed to do poorly enough to fail the second grade, you could just do it again next year. With Jungwon.
Of course she explained to you how terrible of an idea it was, and you didn’t try it again, but for the next few months, every aced exam still felt a little bit like defeat.
Until the seventh-grade, that is, when you decided to fully embrace your role as his elder.
Jungwon was just starting middle school, after all. He was brand new to the world of lockers and passing periods and so much axe body spray it seemed to permanently hover outside the boy’s locker room like a rain cloud.
You made him pinky promise you not to buy any, and all he did was scrunch his nose in distaste, insisting that he never would, that he didn’t like strong smells anyway.
Jungwon might have been new to it all, but you, however, had already been this whole middle school thing for a year. You were one year older and wiser and could help him navigate all of the pitfalls with your hard earned expertise.
You thought it was the best idea ever, an example of your commendable generosity and kindness, until one Wednesday afternoon proved you entirely wrong.
You were hovering just behind him as he worked through his locker combination, weight shifted to one hip as you balanced your science textbook against the other.
Still a couple inches taller than him thanks to the growth spurt that had hit you early, you didn’t have to crane your neck too hard to see over his shoulder. To provide any assistance he might need.
Finally, after getting the combination right, his locker clicked open.
Jungwon sighed. Glancing back at you, he mumbled, “Why are you here? Don’t you have science right now?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing to the textbook in your hands. “But that’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for you.”
“I have math next,” he pointed out, as if you didn’t already know. As if you didn’t have his schedule memorized before he did. “Which is in the opposite direction. Just go. You don’t want to be late again.”
It’s true. You don’t. Your mom said she’d shave an hour off of your allotted Saturday cartoon-watching time if it happened again.
But it was okay. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make. You told him as much.
“That’s okay,” You shook your head. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Mr. Lee usually isn’t too strict about tardies, so—“
“Just go,” he interrupted, back still turned to you. This time, his voice was sharper than usual. It cut through the air like an accusation, leaving you more than a little shocked. “You don’t have to follow me around everywhere.”
You frowned at that. But still, you thought that maybe he was just worried about you, about whatever punishment your mother had promised. So, to ease his worries, you insisted, “I don’t mind. I’m a year older, so I should—“
“Ten months,” he corrected, voice like ice. And he still wouldn’t look at you. “You’re ten months older.”
Your frown deepened. “Thats the same thing.”
“No it’s not,” Jungwon shook his head, voice rising. His anger, his annoyance, were apparent now. “Stop treating me like a baby.”
“I don’t—” You tried to protest.
But he wasn’t having it. “You do.” He insisted. “You treat me like I’m a little kid and it’s driving me insane. The other boys on the taekwondo team think so, too. They’re starting to say things—“
“What kinds of things? Who?” It didn’t matter if he was angry or annoyed at you. As far as you were concerned, if anyone was giving Jungwon a hard time, it was your business too. You didn’t know the boys on the taekwondo team very well, but you were suddenly feeling very violent, a bad idea given that the boys in question were trained in martial arts and you’d spent no time on a training mat in all twelve years of your life.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jungwon shook his head. He still wouldn't turn around and look at you. “Just leave me alone.”
You’d had fights before. Little tiffs that started nearly the same day you’d met. But they were always small, just bouts of bickering that may have left you pouting but never with any truly hurt feelings.
This was different. This… this stung.
Just like the tears that started to gather against your lash line without your permission, pressing dangerously against the inner corner of your eyes.
Still, you couldn’t help but ask, a little pathetically, “You don’t want me to walk with you?”
“I don’t need you to follow me around everywhere,” he repeated, crueler than he had to be, “fussing over me like you’re my mom or something.”
“Fine,” was all you said. Suddenly, you were grateful that he wouldn’t look at you. If he saw how affected you were, that you were on the verge of crying, it would be more humiliating than you could handle. “Just walk by yourself then.”
Turning, you only paused once you were a few steps away. “And here,” you’d reached into your pockets, pulling out the coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper earlier this week, the surprise you were planning to show him after school. “You can just have these. Give them to your taekwondo friends, since you care what they think so much.”
Jungwon waited until you were around the corner to turn around, to see what you’d thrown at his feet. Bending, he picked them up, guilt swirling deep in his gut as he tucked the coupons for half price ice cream from the nearby shop, the one that you knew always had his favorite flavor, into his pocket.
You didn’t talk to Jungwon for a week.
You were late to class that day, partly because of Jungwon and partly because you had to spend the next ten minutes calming down in the bathroom stall while you wiped evidence of your tears away.
True to her word, your mom didn’t let you watch cartoons Saturday morning. And you spent all your extra time thinking about where exactly you went so wrong.
The silent treatment didn’t last long. You and Jungwon were like that — you’d spent so much time together that you’d learned how to get over things quickly.
Grudges never held for long, and time didn't need to pass too far for both of you to forget what you were mad about in the first place.
But this time, even after the dust had settled, things between you didn’t go entirely back to normal. For starters, you didn’t wait for him by his locker anymore, didn’t offer to walk him to math or science or P.E. or any of his other classes.
Even though the two of you shared a school, the only time you really saw him anymore was on the bus ride home. And that was only on the days he didn’t have taekwondo practice.
But with Jungwon, things had a way of coming back around. It wasn’t long before he was seeking you out intentionally again, before your friendship felt less like walking on eggshells and more like something comfortable.
But you had learned two valuable lessons that day by his locker.
One, Jungwon was sensitive. More so than you ever realized. In ways you didn’t always fully understand.
And two, the gap between your ages may have been small, but he really, truly resented any attention you brought to it. In his own words, he hated it when you made him feel like a kid.
So you learned. You adjusted. And by the time high school came around, you were practically a pro at ignoring the ten months that separated you.
There were still times that you wanted to guide him, to help him, but you did your best to hold yourself back. You tried to empathize, too. To see things from his point of view. It made sense, you supposed. Jungwon didn’t want a second mother. He just wanted a friend.
One that wouldn’t dote on him too much or smother him or embarrass him in front of his teammates. That’s not to say he didn’t use your age to his advantage on occasion, though.
When you got your driver’s license a whole year before him, he wasn’t shy about asking for rides. And when junior year chemistry proved to be harder than he thought, he accepted your journal full of meticulously taken notes with little more than a sigh of relief.
You didn’t mind so much. Besides, it wasn’t like you were the only generous one in your relationship. Friendship with Jungwon never felt like a burden, never felt like a debt to settle.
For all of your age-afforded privileges, he more than made up for them just by being there. Because Jungwon grew up in the way few boys do—he learned to observe, to listen before he spoke. To treat words like something precious and use them only when he really meant them.
Jungwon was your confidant, your most trusted source of advice. You went to him with things that you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone else, and he received it all with open arms and a thoughtful furrow of his brow.
Jungwon wasn’t the type to pass judgment. He just listened, contemplated, and then gave the best, most logical answer he could think of.
He talked you down from your spiral of self-hate after you convinced yourself a failed physics test was the end of your life junior year and helped you analyze the pros and cons of your top university choices when your high school graduation date started approaching with alarming speed.
Affection came easy between the two of you, because it didn’t feel complicated. It felt natural, just like the day he introduced himself amongst the ruins of your mother’s failed garden.
So when you told him, senior year, that you agreed with his advice, that you had decided to attend university in your hometown, a mere thirty-minute drive from the high school you were graduating from, all he did was smile.
He hugged you after you accepted your diploma from your principal and handed you a bouquet of flowers. He complained about having to stick around in high school for another year, and you assured him that senior year was different from the others. It was better.
Your year apart was difficult, but it also gave you space for things you hadn’t considered before. Things like other friends. You met Sophia at freshman orientation, and the two of you became inseparable.
You still saw Jungwon, of course. Weekends, holidays, and even the occasional weeknight dinner meant he was still very much a part of your life. And when you couldn’t meet in person, you talked. Texted. Called.
Which is exactly how you broke the news of your first ever boyfriend.
There had been crushes in high school, but they were fleeting. Insignificant. This was different. Jay was different, and just as you always had, you spared Jungwon none of the gory details.
You told him all about the flowers he bought you, all about how romantic it was when he asked you on a proper date. How sweet it was when he picked you up and opened the passenger door of his car for you and how special you felt when he picked up the dinner check without so much as a sideways glance at you.
But Jungwon, steady, reliable Jungwon, seemed to become uncharacteristically terse whenever Jay came up. His texts got shorter, his responses further and fewer between.
The calls that used to drag on for hours started ending suddenly whenever you brought up your boyfriend. Jungwon always had an excuse ready—he had homework to do or a project to finish or an errand to run for his mom.
But you’d have to be stupid not to notice the common denominator in it all. Jay.
For a while, the choice was easy. Jay was here, with you. He wanted your attention and your time. He liked hearing about your day and telling you about his and spending as much time with you as your schedules allowed.
Jungwon, on the other hand, was becoming more difficult to reach the longer your relationship went on.
Slowly, but steadily, Jay started to become the person you went to for advice. The contact name you searched for whenever you had something to say. The boy you spent your weekends with, making new memories, laughing about nothing.
You trusted him. You were new to it, the feelings, the rush of it all, but after a few months, you were pretty sure you loved him.
Jay was your first relationship, your first real boyfriend, and eventually, the person you trusted enough to lose your virginity to.
Which made it all the more devastating when he told you, sometime in the middle of spring semester, that he didn’t want to see you anymore. That he enjoyed your time together, but he didn’t feel the same spark you did. The same level of connection.
You cried until you were numb, and you were numb until one by one, your feelings started to come back in overwhelming waves. And every time they did, the only person you really wanted to see was your best friend.
The boy you barely even spoke to anymore.
You weren’t sure if he would even answer, the night you drove all the way to his house in the pouring rain. You stood there on his porch, pathetic, soaked from just the short walk from your car, when he opened the door and found you like that.
“Jungwon,” you breathed.
He hadn’t said anything, just pulled you inside. Checked the warmth of his shower until it was the perfect temperature and left a towel and a clean pair of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. Waited outside, on the edge of his bed until you emerged twenty minutes later.
Clean, dry, but with eyes so red he knew you must have been crying.
He didn’t ask you what happened. He just scooted back until he was sitting against his pillows, patted the space next to him in invitation. Pulled you tight to his chest as you sobbed, long heartbreaking sounds that tore from somewhere deep in you.
You eventually told him everything—your breakup, your heartbreak, the sudden loneliness it had left in its wake.
Jungwon just held you through it, wiping your tears and soothing your cries as you laid against his chest.
And you talked. For hours, about nothing, about everything. All the little things you hadn’t been able to tell him for months, all the parts of your life that you’d wished you could share with him.
As it turns out, you’d missed important updates from his life, too. For starters, he’d chosen a university. The same one you were currently attending. You were so excited that you’d be together again, but part of you hated it, the way you’d missed out on such important news.
That night, things shifted again. It didn’t matter what your relationship status was or what distance separated you—the two of you promised not to ever go so long without talking again.
The following September, Jungwon officially started university at the same school as you, and it was the most excited you’d been in months. You loved showing him around all of your favorite places, pointing out the secret study spots you’d found in the library, introducing him to all of your friends and the coffee shop you loved just off campus.
It felt natural, felt right to have him in your life again. Even when things got busy, when you were so bogged down with assignments and projects and internships, you did your best to make time for one another.
You didn’t date again, and if he did, you never heard about it. When friends asked, you always gave the same excuse. You were too busy. You were focusing on yourself. School was more important to you than a relationship right now.
But if you were honest with yourself, your relationship with Jay had left you with a unique set of scars. You were scared of falling in love again only to be met with rejection, of course, but you were also terrified of losing Jungwon. Of the way letting someone new into your life could mean pushing him away, despite what you’d promised each other that night in his bed.
It’s why you haven’t mentioned Sunghoon to him yet. It’s not a secret, exactly, but it’s also not something you’re dying to share.
Now that you’ve graduated, you can hardly believe you’re standing outside Jungwon’s apartment with a six pack of cheap beer dangling from your fingertips. But something about all of your recent failures has you desperate for a bit of release, and you’re sure he could use some relaxation after midterms, too.
If anything, you’re hoping it will come as a nice surprise.
You knock on the door to his apartment, beer dangling loosely from your other hand. But when the door pulls open, it’s not Jungwon who greets you on the other side.
“Hi,” Jake grins, leaning against the doorframe. “Long time no see.” Jungwon’s roommate of two years now, he glances down at the beer. “And you brought presents.”
“Not for you, Sim,” you shake your head. “Is Jungwon home?”
“Depends.” Jake grins. “Are you just gonna leave if he’s not?”
You sigh, do your best not to roll your eyes. You’ve been subject to Jake’s antics long enough to know not to take any of it to heart. A golden retriever in every sense of the word, flirting comes as natural to him as breathing.
You’d be more worried if he suddenly started talking to you like a normal person.
“Can you tell me when he’ll be back?” You really should have checked to make sure Jungwon was home before driving all the way, but you’d only decided to come last minute. Besides, you remember what midterms were like. You wanted it to be a surprise.
“What’s the rush?” Jake asks. When you don’t bother to dignify that with a response, he pivots, “What are you up to these days?”
“Just working,” you shrug.
“Yeah?” he asks. “How’s post grad life treating you? Is the grass really greener after graduation?” Like Jungwon, he’s still a semester and a half away from it.
You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “Something like that.”
“You’re still working at that flower shop over in your area, right? I was over there the other day, and I almost stopped by to say hi, but I couldn’t remember for sure. Is it—”
“I thought you said you were on your way out,” a voice interrupts from behind him. Jungwon’s. You’d know it anywhere. “Who are you talking to?”
That little shit. He lied to you. Or at least heavily implied it.
Jake at least has the decency to look sheepish when he glances at you. Opening the door wider, he reveals your best friend. Dressed in a pair of grey sweats and an oversized long sleeve white t-shirt, his hair is still slightly damp. Recently showered, if you had to guess.
“Surprise,” you grin weakly, holding up the pack of beer.
“___,” he breathes your name, surprise flickering across his features. His gaze falls to your feet for a moment before dragging back up to your face. “What are you doing here?”
“Is it a bad time?” The beer falls back down to your side. You really should have checked with him first before driving all the way here. “Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Not a bad time at all. Come in.” Side-eyeing Jake, he looks almost surprised to see him, as if he forgot he was even there. Then, he confirms, “You’re leaving, right?”
“Yep,” Jake nods, a trace of amusement flashing through his eyes. “I won’t be back until late.” He glances between the two of you. “Like, really late, probably. Enjoy… whatever this is.” Turning to you, he adds, “And it was good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”
“Sure, Jake,” you agree. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he smiles. “Have fun.” Pausing for a moment, he considers, “Not too much fun, though—”
“Goodbye, Jake,” Jungwon interrupts, something unreadable crossing his features.
Jake takes the cue well enough. Stepping past the two of you, he leaves the apartment. The door closes behind him with a silent click.
And then it’s just you and Jungwon.
“You brought beer,” he reaches to take the drinks from you, passing them from your hand to his. “And yourself. What’s the occasion?”
“Midterms,” you explain. “I thought you could use a night off after all that studying. Besides, it’s been too long. The last time I saw you was when we got coffee, and that was already—”
“Two weeks ago,” he finishes for you. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to drink?” you ask, suddenly afraid you’ve placed your bets all wrong. Maybe midterms weren’t exhausting in the way that makes him want to drown his sorrows in cheap beer. Maybe they were just exhausting in the way that makes him want to crawl into bed. “I can come back a diff—”
Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s exactly what I need.” He smiles at you. It’s tired, but it’s genuine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
And that’s all it takes, all the reassurance you need to slip off your shoes and find a spot next to him on the living room sofa that’s seen better days.
It’s quiet at first, the two of you taking long sips as you ask the standard questions.
You ask how he thinks he did on midterms, and he says he’d rather talk about anything else.
He asks about your job search, and a shadow crosses your features as you also request a change in topic.
One bottle turns to two, and before long, your limbs are feeling heavier, your lips looser.
Jungwon looks at you, already flushed from the alcohol. He parts his reddened lips like he wants to say something. Closes them again.
Then, finally, “I heard something,” he says.
“Mm?” you hum. There’s a pleasant haze in your mind. One that makes it difficult to give much of a response at all.
A beat of silence passes. Another. You glance over at him, a question in your eyes, only to find his gaze already trained on your face.
Eventually, he gets it out. “You’re going on dates again.”
The tension in your shoulders is immediate. You’re not sure if he heard it from Sophia or somewhere else along the grapevine, but you suppose it doesn’t matter much either way. You shrug, feigning nonchalance. You have nothing to hide, you tell yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. “I went on one.”
Jungwon takes a long sip of beer, the foam settling heavy when he sets it back down on the table. “How was it?” he asks. His voice is infuriatingly neutral. You can’t get a read on him.
“I don’t know,” you shake your head. “Fine.”
Jungwon’s palm splays against his knee, flexes. “Are you seeing him again?”
You feel a humorless laugh rising in your throat, one you barely manage to contain. “Probably not.”
You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your face when he asks, “Why?”
You sigh. This time, it’s you that takes a long sip of your drink. “I don’t know,” you shrug. Pulling your knees in towards your chest, you suddenly feel smaller than before. “It just wasn’t…” your words die as you try to find a way to explain the feeling you’d left the date with. Coming up blank, you decide instead on, “I don’t think he wants to see me again, anyway.”
You swear you feel a fraction of tension ease from the air. Still, Jungwon’s curiosity doesn’t seem to be sated. “Why not?” More to make you laugh than to actually guess at Sunghoon’s intentions, he asks, “Did you spill something on him?”
Wincing, you remember every one-word answer you gave. “I don’t think I spilled enough.”
Jungwon frowns, the turn of phrase not landing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” you repeat. “Sometimes, I just…” You lean your head back, letting it loll against the back of the couch. “I just feel like boys don’t really like me, you know?”
If you were looking, you’d see the way Jungwon goes completely still. A moment of silence passes before he breaks it, voice lower, less airy than before. “What did you just say?”
Head against the couch, you let out a small sound, breathless, a little pathetic. “Don’t make me repeat it,” you beg.
But Jungwon isn’t quite ready to let it go. You see his silhouette in your periphery, turning to face you fully. Leaning in, his attention is on you and nowhere else. His voice has an edge to it that you aren’t quite sure what to do with when he asks, “What do you mean, ‘boys don’t like you?’”
All you can do is sigh again. “I’m just… I’m not really charming or cute or good at small talk and things like that. I always say something weird or put my foot in my mouth, and it’s like I can see them losing interest in real time.”
Jungwon blows a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. Glances at you. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Jungwon,” you deadpan, “he asked me what my hobbies are, and I told him, verbatim, things.”
“Oh.” He pauses for a minute. Then points out, “Well, to be fair, that’s a horrible question.”
You frown. “It’s a standard first date question.”
“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees, “which is exactly why it’s horrible. No one wants to go on a first date and be asked all of the standard first date questions.”
You know that he’s only trying to comfort you, but something about him twisting the narrative so far in your favor just makes you want to sigh. You’re grateful for his defense, but it also feels a bit misplaced.
“How would you even know?” You try not to sound too mean, but the question comes out flat. “I bet you go on dates with those dimples and that…” you trail off, waving your hands noncommittally in his general direction.
Jungwon’s brows furrow. “You just gestured to all of me.”
“Exactly,” you nod. “You have that whole boy-next-door, easy going charm thing about you.” It’s true, and right now, you can’t help but think that it’s awfully unfair. “I bet you could ask whatever stupid standard first date questions you want and girls would still be falling at your feet.”
At face value, it’s a compliment. But there’s something about your tone, the trace remnants of sarcasm, of bitterness, that make him think otherwise.
“I’m not quite sure how to take that,” Jungwon finally tells you.
You sigh. You didn’t come here to project your insecurities on him. There might be layers of truth to it, but this isn’t his fault. You’re not being fair, and you know it.
“All I mean is that boys like you don’t have to try very hard. I feel like it all just comes so naturally to you. I wish I was like that, too. That’s all I’m saying.”
And Jungwon could protest, could launch into some speech about how you’ll find your person eventually, about how there’s someone out there for everyone.
But he knows you, is well-acquainted with that contemplative, overly self-critical look on your face. Can read all of your frustration and insecurity in the way you bite at your bottom lip.
You’re not looking for a lecture or false hope and certainly not empty words.
You came here with a case of beer and the intention to surprise him, to congratulate him for work well done.
He was the one that brought up the date, anyway. He knows that you’re not looking for advice. You’re looking for a friend.
So Jungwon waits for a moment before he says anything at all.
Then, he picks up your abandoned beer off the coffee table in front of you and holds it up to you. “C’mon,” he encourages gently, “join me.” He takes a sip of his own for good measure. “It isn’t going to drink itself.”
“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I already feel kind of—”
“I think I bombed econ,” he offers. You can’t tell if it’s true or not, but that’s not the point. He needs you out of your head. “Don’t make me drown my sorrows alone.”
You can’t help but think that for all the fuss he used to put up about you being older, he certainly doesn’t mind appealing to it when it’s to his advantage.
But even lukewarm beer looks tempting when it’s him that’s offering it to you. And you’ve never been good at saying no, at least not to Jungwon.
He knows it, too. Jungwon isn’t surprised when you accept the bottle from his hands with nothing more than a halfhearted grumble under your breath.
There’s no trace of shock in his eyes when you bring it straight to your lips despite your earlier protests.
He just grins before leaning back against his side of the couch, smile still stretching across his lips as he brings his own bottle up to join you.
…..
Thursday afternoons are your favorite time in the flower shop. Run by a kind woman in her late sixties, she takes advantage of the day to attend her weekly Zumba class at the senior center, which means you have the shop all to yourself, save for the occasional customer.
Usually, you’d savor the stillness. Use it to catch up on inventory or fulfill the handful or edible arrangement requests for tomorrow.
But today, the silence is making you jittery. Mostly because your mind won’t give you a moment of peace no matter how much you beg it too.
Despite the prediction you gave Jungwon three days ago in his apartment, Sunghoon did reach out to you again.
The message still sits at the top of your text threads like a curse.
I enjoyed our time together, he said. Succinct, straightforward, and all things considered, surprising. Are you free this weekend? I’d love to see you again.
And it’s flattering, so much so that you nearly find yourself agreeing without taking so much as a moment to think about it.
Sophia will be thrilled, you’re sure. And you won’t have to burden Jungwon again with tipsy confessions of your own insecurities.
But alone in the flower shop, another thought starts to creep in, just as your fingers hover above the keyboard. A feeling.
The same one you left from your last date with. That strange, hollow emptiness that had you spiraling for days, convinced there must be something deeply, fundamentally off about you.
Again, you start to wonder why you can’t just do it. Can’t enjoy a date and a free meal and the pleasant company of a handsome stranger. Why all of your answers always come out stilted, cagey, so terribly awkward.
Why you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, convinced that any scraps of attention that come your way must be part of some elaborate prank that the universe is playing on you.
Why even a barely-there, trace amount of vulnerability feels like nails on a chalkboard. Why you haven’t been able to form a real, meaningful connection with anyone since Jay. A relationship that ended nearly four years ago. It’s enough to make you feel a little pathetic.
Logically, you know that this is how it goes. You can’t form connections or welcome new things into your life without a leap of faith.
But the potential fallout is terrifying. The thought of trying, really trying, and still being found lacking is enough to sober even the most romantic of your fantasies.
Something about the status quo, no matter how boring or tiresome or monotonous, feels safe. Like a cage you’ve settled into and made comfortable.
Your fingers hesitate, then fall away completely. Locking the screen of your phone, you tuck it back into your pocket with a sigh.
Busying yourself with the arrangement orders, you do your best to push Sunghoon and his unanswered invitation from your mind.
For a while at least, you’re successful. The afternoon passes slowly.
A woman in her thirties comes, looking for a bouquet for her sister who just had a baby.
A man in his fifties wants to send flowers to his daughter’s office to wish her a happy birthday.
A couple comes in, hands intertwined, asking if your shop would be able to accommodate enough flowers for their wedding to be held at the end of the month.
You greet them, you smile, you answer their questions with patience.
And all the while, you leave Sunghoon’s question hanging.
As your shift draws to an end, late afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows, your phone buzzes in your pocket once more.
Half expecting to see a string of curses from Sunghoon, angry you ignored him, convinced you’ve wronged him, you're surprised when it’s Jungwon’s name that lights up your screen instead.
His short string of messages reads,
It was nice to see you again
Missed my favorite girl
Movie night this weekend at mine? Popcorn on me
Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you can hardly stifle the smile that threatens to overtake your entire face.
Unlike Sunghoon’s, Jungwon’s message doesn’t fill you with dread, doesn’t leave you with a sudden flurry of doubts and questions clouding your mind.
And, unlike his, it’s easy to say yes to.
You wait only a fraction of a second before sending your reply.
I’ll be there
…..
The left side cushion of Jungwon’s living room couch is starting to feel familiar at this point. It’s been less than a week since you were last here, and it already feels routine sinking down into it.
When Jake steps out from his room minutes after you settle in, he doesn’t comment on his roommate’s company. Just arches a brow.
“You two drinking again?” he asks.
Apparently, he gave Jungwon shit for forgetting to clean up one of the bottles after last time. Ironic, considering it’s Jake’s dinner dishes that are gathering dust in the sink.
“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. Remote in hand, he flicks through streaming service options until he lands on the one he’s looking for. “Just watching a movie.”
Jake pauses, eyes flickering towards the screen. “Which one?”
“Not sure.” Jungwon shrugs. “___ chose it.”
You turn over your shoulder, telling him the title. It’s some rom com that’s been terrorizing your twitter feed for weeks now. And then you offer, “You can join us if you want.”
You’re not sure if there’s enough space on the couch for the three of you, but you are the one crashing into their space. You’ll make it work if you have to.
“That’s alright.” Jake shakes his head. “I’m heading out.”
“Alright,” Jungwon waves him off without so much as a second glance.
“See you later,” you offer, still turned around.
Jake grins, looking at you before he makes his way to the door. “Enjoy your movie. And nice to see you again so soon, ___. I was worried you’d make me wait again.”
Next to you, Jungwon’s jaw clenches. He mutters something under his breath about making popcorn before standing up from his seat on the couch.
Jake leaves before he can rile Jungwon up any further, and the smell of popcorn begins to fill the room just as the opening credits begin to roll. An overzealous pop song plays in the background, one you recognize from the playlist your boss makes you put on shuffle, insisting the corny, upbeat lyrics will convince people to buy more flowers.
Jungwon comes back to the couch, sets the popcorn bowl on the table in front of you. He adjusts, moving closer. His knee brushes against yours. Both of you pretend not to notice. Intimacy and closeness is nothing new between the two of you. Hell, you grew up practically attached at the hip, sleeping in the same bed until you were in middle school.
But there was always practicality to it, a purpose. You held hands at the amusement park because you didn’t want to lose each other in the crowd. You let him put his head in your lap when you had a picnic in the park because the only other pillow available was the ant-filled grass.
This feels different. Intentional. Especially since there’s still plenty of space to his left.
You lean forward, reaching for the popcorn. The fabric of your pants rustles against his. Settling back into your seat, Jungwon takes his turn to reach forward. But instead of grabbing a fistful, he takes the whole bowl, bringing it to his lap.
“Here,” he nudges you. “It’s closer this way.”
You nod. Right. Closer.
In front of you, the movie begins to unfold. Saturated color grading, wardrobe choices that already look slightly dated despite the recent release date, and a female lead that first impressions paint as adorably quirky, it has all the makings of a brainless plot. The perfect way to waste a Friday night.
And Jungwon, who usually insists on holding his tongue until after the credits have rolled, leans a little closer to you just past the twenty-minute mark. Unnecessary, given how close the two of you are already sitting. His arm, bare from the short-sleeve shirt he wears, brushes against yours.
And his lips nearly touch the shell of your ear when he whispers, “This is ridiculous.”
You frown. “What is?”
“The premise,” he hums. “I mean, why would they pretend to date each other? It doesn’t make sense. There are plenty of other things he could do to get back at his ex.”
You roll your eyes. Leave it to him to analyze the storyline like it was designed for anything other than mindless entertainment. “It’s the oldest cliche in the book,” you explain. “It’s for the plot.”
“It’s obvious,” he shakes his head. “They’re going to fall in love with each other.”
“Of course they are,” you agree. “But not every movie has to have a million twists and turns. Sometimes it’s just nice to know how things will end and enjoy seeing how they get there.”
“You like that?” he asks, voice low. “When things fall into place exactly the way you expect them to?”
“Sometimes,” you breathe. “It’s nice to not always have to guess.”
“Would you ever do that?”
Your eyebrows raise. “Fake date someone?”
Jungwon nods.
“No,” you scoff. “I can barely handle a real date, remember?”
You’re not sure what it is, but something in your answer must satisfy his curiosity, at least for now. Next to you, Jungwon is quiet once again. In front of you, the characters on screen continue to tiptoe around each other, dancing around the obvious.
The onscreen tension builds and builds and builds, all the way until it breaks. With a heated confession in the rain and the one aspect of a rom com you forgot to account for before choosing your movie for the evening.
You’re a grown woman. You have the degree and the age on your driver’s license to prove it. But the flush on your cheeks is undeniable as the two characters on screen begin to kiss.
And kiss they do. Jesus christ, you think, just how much of the budget was allotted to close up shots of their mouths?
As the scene begins to heat, so does the temperature of your skin. You’re half afraid Jungwon will feel it, scalding him through the layers of fabric between your legs that still touch. Part of you wants to screw your eyes shut, to reach for the remote and click fast forward just to end the agony, but you’re pretty sure that would be even more humiliating.
Instead, you keep your eyes glued to the screen. Watch unmoving, trying to appear unaffected, as the male lead tangles his fingers through her hair, tugging slightly as she stifles a moan against his lips. It’s so raw, so intimate, that you’re tempted to pull out your phone and confirm the PG-13 rating you swear it had.
It’s involuntary, the way you squirm against the couch cushions. The movement is no help. All it does is make you brush further against the one person you’re suddenly desperately trying to ignore.
The man on screen brushes his fingers under the hemline of her shirt, drags the fitted material upwards.
Without even really meaning to, you dare a glance at Jungwon.
And find him already looking at you. Staring at you, lips parted, eyes locked on the flush spreading over your cheekbones.
Quickly, your eyes drop to your lap, but the image stays burned behind your eyelids. You don’t dare to look at him again, not even once the scene has ended, when the plot becomes ridiculous again instead of heated.
Even once the ending credits start to roll, you keep your eyes trained on the screen, as if the list of assistant directors is something you find fascinating. But Jungwon has other plans.
He shifts against you, knee nudging yours. You hear his exhale, heavier than before.
A moment passes. Another.
Then, he finally tells you, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Immediately your mind starts to swim. Thinking about what? The unbelievability of the premise? The questionable casting choices? Or, worst of all, the kiss?
Out loud, you do your best to school your question into something neutral. “Thinking about what?”
“What you said,” he tells you. It soothes exactly none of your frayed nerves.
What have you said? You suddenly can’t remember. You search for a list of recent statements you’ve made and come up completely blank.
It feels like a conversation that’s going nowhere when you ask, “What did I say?”
Jungwon doesn’t spare a moment. “That you think boys don’t like you.”
Oh. Oh. Nearly a week ago now, your tipsy, self-berating rambling must have stuck with him. Well, that’s fine, you suppose. That’s something you can explain away now. Sober, even if your mind is still spinning a bit.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you try to explain. “I was drunk and my words weren’t coming out right. I just meant that it was frustrating going on a date and leaving feeling like something was wrong with me, you know?”
Only after he’s quiet for a full thirty seconds do you dare a glance at him. Jungwon’s brow is furrowed, his lips pulled tight in contemplation. He parts his lips like he wants to say something, closes them again as if he’s thought better of it.
When he finally finds a statement to commit to, he says, “Maybe you’re going on dates with the wrong people.”
“Oh, definitely,” you agree. “But that’s the hard part, isn’t it?” In retrospect, it’s a big part of why you were so hesitant to accept Sophia’s offer in the first place, why she had to ask you, to insist, four times. “I feel like I have to go on so many terrible dates that make me feel like shit just to maybe eventually find someone I want to spend more time with. It’s not like I think there’s actually anything wrong with me, but I do feel like I have a harder time than other people. You know, making friends, going on dates, finding people I actually want to be around of my own volition.”
After already feeling so rejected from your job search, your headspace has been even more fragile. Dating doesn’t feel like stress relief for you. It feels like a reminder of all the things you wish were different about yourself.
Jungwon’s gentle when he shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping your circle small.”
“No,” you agree, “but sometimes it feels like it isn’t really my choice. Like, even if I wanted to have more friends or go on more dates, it wouldn't pan out the way I want it to. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep to myself, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times I wish I could be more outgoing.”
After another momentary lapse, another beat of silence, he asks, “What about me?”
A flicker of surprise crosses your features. “What about you?”
“You have an easy time talking to me,” Jungwon points out. “And I feel the same about you. We’ve been hanging out since we were kids, and I’ve never felt uncomfortable with you.”
“Really?” Your brow arches. “Even when I forced you to go down that waterslide in third grade?”
Even his mom had been surprised. He’d been terrified of that thing, apparently kicking and screaming against anyone else that tried to drag him down it. But when you, in all of your fourth-grade glory, insisted that he joined you, he just tucked his hand in yours, let you lead him all the way up the ladder even as his legs shook beneath him.
Jungwon smiles at the memory, a soft thing. But his eyes are still serious, his gaze still weighted. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “but that’s different.”
“How so?”
“Because…” you trail off, searching for an explanation. “Because you’re Jungwon.”
“Yeah.” The heat in his eyes doesn’t settle. “And?”
“And I’ve never had to think about it,” you shrug. “We became friends before I was even fully self-aware. You’ve always just been Jungwon.”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering. And then, “Can I ask you something?”
“I feel like you’re going to anyway.” It’s meant to be lighthearted, to distract from that strange bit of tension that still simmers.
Jungwon’s eyes don’t lose their edge. “Why did you start going on dates again?”
“What do you mean?” His question surprises you. “I just graduated from university. I’m young and unattached and all that. Isn’t this the time that everyone’s going on dates?”
“I suppose,” he concedes, “But I feel like that’s why you’re so frustrated.”
You frown, and he clarifies, “You’re going on dates because you feel like you should. Not because you want to.”
He pauses for a moment, gauging your reaction. Deciding your silence is permission enough, he presses on, “You’re not even sure what you want out of them or what an ideal relationship looks like for you right now. You’re just going and hoping something will stick, like throwing darts with a blindfold. Then you get upset with yourself when it doesn’t live up to your fantasy, even though you haven’t decided what your fantasy even is yet. I mean, why did you even meet Sunghoon? Because you really wanted to, or because you wanted to get Sophia off of your back about it?”
You feel exposed all of a sudden. Seen right down to your bones in a way you were prepared for. “I…” There’s a maturity to his question that you weren’t expecting, an edge you can’t quite decipher. You turn the question back to him instead of answering. “Since when did you get so observant?”
“I’ve always noticed you.”
“Jungwon…”
“So I can help you figure this out, too,” he insists. “Really,” he adds when you still look unsure. “Who knows you better than me?”
You can’t quite meet his gaze, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.
“Exactly,” Jungwon nods. “So I’ll ask you again, why did you agree to go on a date with Sunghoon?”
It would be easy to deflect, to blame Sophia’s insistence. Or to double down on your earlier statement, that this is the time in your life to try new things, to meet new people. That it felt natural to say yes.
But when you really think about it, the cold, honest truth is just that—
“I think I was just tired of hearing no all the time.”
Jungwon’s brow furrows. “Who’s telling you no?”
You sigh, try to let out an airy laugh that comes out choked, a little pathetic. “Only every hiring manager in the country, apparently. You know, I’ve been sending out job applications like crazy since graduation, but it's been six months now and the only thing I have to show for it is a stack of rejection letters cluttering my inbox.”
A flicker of understanding passes through his gaze. “So you’re compensating, then.”
You glare. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not,” he shakes his head. With the same tone you’ve heard him use to soothe a skittish kitten, he adds, “That must have been so frustrating. Putting in all that effort and not getting the result you wanted.” He knee brushes yours as he leans in closer, something unbearably earnest in his gaze. “You’ve been working too hard.”
“I haven’t been working hard enough,” you argue. “If I had, then something would have panned out at this point. I just need to—”
“There you go again,” he interrupts, shaking his head gently. “Assuming that it’s all your fault. Maybe the hiring manager was just an idiot, or you caught them on a bad day.”
“Yeah.” Your words drip with self-effacing sarcasm. “I’d believe that if it were one or two. But I don’t think over a hundred of them just happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed the day they reviewed my application.”
It comes out sharper than you mean for it to. Settles into the air a bit uncomfortably.
Jungwon takes a moment to respond. When he does, he just sighs your name.
“I know,” you scramble for something a little lighter, “like, the economy is shit and all, and one day I’ll look back at this and laugh or whatever. But it just sucks right now, you know? I’m so sick of it. I really just wanted to hear someone say—”
“Yes,” Jungwon finishes for you.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Exactly.”
“Okay,” he nods, resolve tightening as if he’s made his mind up about something. “Then ask me.”
“What?”
Jungwon doubles down. “You can ask me,” he insists again, that same damn earnestness in his eyes, “anything you want me to do.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “I’ll say yes. I promise.”
Against your will, you feel warmth starting to rise on your cheeks again. There’s something weighted in his promise, something desperate that simmers just behind it. Something that you have absolutely no idea what to do with.
Suddenly desperate for a reprieve, you do your best to break the tension. “That seems like a terrible idea.” You curse the strange breathlessness in your voice. Why are you like this? It’s just Jungwon. “What if I ask you to jump off a bridge?”
Jungwon just grins. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I know I’m safe. You’d miss me too much.”
“You know,” you start, “for someone who thinks fake dating is ridiculous, this feels even more absurd.”
Jungwon doesn’t budge. “Just try it,” he encourages. “Ask me something.”
You sigh. “Jungwon…”
“C’mon.” He’s relentless. “Just once.”
“Fine.” You glance towards the bowl still sitting in his lap. “Hand me the popcorn.”
Picking it up, he ignores your outstretched hands in favor of learning forward, all the way until he settles it in your lap. His fingers remain against the edges of the bowl until he’s sure the balance is steady. Only then does he lean back into his own space.
“Easy.” He grins. Then his brow furrows, considering. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “I could make you some real food, if—”
“No,” you shake your head. Picking up a single piece of popcorn, you add, “Just wanted to do this.”
Throwing it square at his face, it bounces off of his nose harmlessly before falling to the carpet below. Jungwon’s nose scrunches in a knee-jerk reaction, eyes screwing shut before he opens them again.
“Maybe I was wrong,” his eyes are heavy-lidded, voice lower than you expect. “You are going to use it for evil.”
“Of course.” You reach for another kernel. “So maybe you should reconsider—”
Jungwon doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give you a moment to prepare for the way he wraps his fingers around your raised wrist, locking it into place before you can toss another piece of popcorn in his direction.
His grip is warm against your skin. Tight, something you’re not sure you’d be able to break out of even if you tried.
Still, you attempt to fling the popcorn at him. With the restricted motion of your wrist, it doesn’t make it far. It flies through the air for only a split second before falling uselessly down to your own lap, just in front of the bowl it came from.
“Nice try,” Jungwon breathes, your wrist still encased in his grip.
Your eyes narrow. “I do my best.”
“I’m sure you do,” he allows, “but you’re trapped now.”
There’s something strange in his gaze. Something heavy, weighted that you can’t quite place. Something that feels entirely too real.
You test it, the strength of his grip on you. True to his word, your wrist hardly makes it an inch, his fingers a vice around them.
“You’re ridiculous,” you breathe, voice airier than you mean for it to be.
“Maybe,” he agrees. A breath passes between you. Another. His eyes are still locked on yours, searching, like he’s desperate to find something. Another moment passes, and he releases his grip. Your wrist falls slowly back to your lap. “But I meant it.”
“I know you did.” You can’t quite make eye contact, but his sincerity is evident even as you place your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you.”
“Seriously,” he insists. “My schedule is a lot lighter now that midterms are done. If you ever want to do something or go somewhere or you just wanna crash for a night on my couch, you’re more than welcome to.”
“Did you get Jake’s approval for that?” You arch an eyebrow.
Jungwon’s voice is tighter than before, just slightly. “Jake will be fine." And then, still strained but a bit softer, “If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know. Don’t make me wait two weeks to see you.”
Here, in the quiet of his living room, movie forgotten on the TV, it’s easy to agree to.
“Okay,” you whisper, regular speech suddenly feeling too loud, too abrasive. And then again, because you really do mean it, “Thank you, Jungwon.”
“Of course,” he insists, voice equally low.
For a moment, the two of you sit like that, legs brushing, you avoiding the eye contact he tries to maintain.
Then, Jungwon sighs, faces the TV again as he reaches for the remote. “Should we watch something else?” he asks.
You nod. “Something scary this time.”
Jungwon arches a brow. “You hate horror movies.”
Shrugging, you insist. “I’m in the mood for one now.”
He still doesn’t look like he quite believes you, but he doesn’t argue any further as he scrolls down, searching for the genre.
At his side, you’re quiet. It’s true. You do hate horror. But you’d take zombies and ghosts and jumpscares any day over the off chance of having to sit through another kissing scene tonight.
This time, Jungwon picks the movie. Learning back against the cushions, he reaches for a handful of popcorn.
The movie hasn’t started yet. There’s nothing on the screen to be scared of, but your heart thumps traitorously against your ribcage anyway.
…..
Two days later, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop. This time, though, it’s not Jungwon who sits across from you.
“So,” Sophia starts, and you already recognize that tone. Uh-oh, you think. “Sunghoon asked about you.”
“Why?” you ask, memories of your rather terrible date coming back unbidden. “To see if I’ve checked myself into an insane asylum yet?”
“No,” she glares. “Just to see how you’re doing.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyeing you over the rim. “Why didn’t you go on another date? He told me he texted you.”
That explains it then, you think. Him reaching out to you probably didn’t come from genuine interest. Maybe spending time with you felt like nothing more than a favor to his coworker. Maybe he was secretly relieved when you’d ignored his message. Maybe he only brought it up to Sophia to be polite.
Your eyes narrow. “Why are you so involved, anyway? You know, this is exactly why they say you shouldn’t shit where you eat.”
“I’m not dating him,” she points out. “And you two don’t work together.” It’s true. You’d applied for an open position a couple months back, actually. And, of course, had been promptly rejected. “That doesn’t apply.”
“Close enough,” you mutter.
“Why are you so against it?” she asks. “Did he suck or something?” Considering it, she’s quick to apologize. “Sorry. He always seemed so nice at work. A little shy, like I told you, but when he mentioned he was single, you were the first person I thought of. Did he say something weird to you or try to make you split the bill—”
“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing like that. He was perfectly nice. And polite.”
Her confusion returns. “So what gives? I didn’t expect the two of you to get married, but I thought you’d at least last a little longer than one date. Besides,” she leans in, voice lower but still not nearly quiet enough for what she’s about to ask you, “aren’t you practically shriveled up at this point? Did you take a vow of celibacy without telling me? When’s the last time you even had se—”
Eyes widening in panic, you interrupt her with an entirely too loud, too bright, “Hi, Jungwon!”
Frowning, Sophia turns back to look over her shoulder. Because there he is, the man in question. A surprising coincidence, perhaps, if you weren’t the one that introduced both of your friends to this cafe.
“Hey,” he grins, glancing between the both of you with his takeout cup in hand. “I thought that was you I saw over here.” Turning to your friend, he nods, “Hi, Sophia.”
“Jungwon,” she returns. Her gaze follows his, all the way from his eyes to yours. Settling back into her seat, she gestures towards the empty chair at your table. “Grab a seat,” she offers. “Join us.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” you glance at him apologetically. “I’m sure Jungwon has other—”
But he slides down into the chair without a hint of protest, your words dying on your lips.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he says. “What were you two talking about?”
You force a smile that looks anything but easy. “Nothing,” you insist, just as Sophia explains,
“____’s desperate need to get laid.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flashing daggers at Sophia with your eyes as you pointedly avoid looking to where Jungwon sits on your right. “I did not say that.”
“So what?” she asks, either oblivious to your suffering or relishing in it. “You’re planning to be a nun forever?”
“I’m busy,” you deflect. “I have other priorities right now.”
“Busy people have sex,” she argues. “All that stress isn’t good for you. Like I said, you’ll shrivel up and—”
“Can we talk about literally anything else?” She has to know how embarrassed you are from the increasingly red shade of your face, how horrified you are that Jungwon can hear everything she’s saying. There aren’t many secrets left between the two of you, but the gory details of your nonexistent sex life isn’t something you’re exactly dying for him to be privy to.
Sophia leans back, some of the urgency of her insistence fading. Still, she’s not quite done. “I’m just confused,” she explains. “I mean, Sunghoon was kind and a gentleman and more than willing, if the way he keeps hounding me about you is anything to go by. I just don’t get it.”
Slowly, you brave a glance at Jungwon, who’s kept quiet this whole time. Maybe, at least, he shares some of your embarrassment, avoiding your gaze just as pointedly as you avoided his.
But when you turn towards him hesitantly, Jungwon is already looking at you. There’s nothing shy or avoidant as his eyes rake over you. And there’s no sign of embarrassment, no telltale flush, no fidgety shifting.
Jungwon’s just looking at you. With a cool, steady stare. Like he’s assessing you, clicking puzzle pieces into place.
When he finally breaks eye contact, it’s to look at Sophia. “Leave her alone,” he defends. His tone is light, teasing. But there’s an edge there. Something that doesn’t leave space for an argument. “She’ll find someone when she’s ready. Park Sunghoon isn’t the end all be all of men.”
“No,” Sophia agrees, “but surely he’s better than your left hand and the vib—”
“Oh my god,” you’re begging this time. “Stop.”
“What about you?” Jungwon asks, and both of you turn to him in surprise. When your eyes land on him, he’s looking at Sophia, not at you. “How’s your love life looking these days?”
“Love life…” She trails off, shrugging. “Nothing to report. But I haven’t joined your girl here,” she nods towards you, “at the convent yet. In that regard,” she grins. “I’m perfectly healthy.”
“Good for you,” Jungwon nods. “And the job is still going well?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “It’s not confirmed yet, but there’s a rumor that I might be in talks for a promotion next quarter. I’m…”
Her words trail off as you zone out, some of the adrenaline fading, the tension draining from your shoulders.
Not for the first time, you feel extremely grateful for Jungwon. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. And to you, it’s obvious. The way he maneuvered the conversation away from you. You’re sure that your discomfort wasn’t difficult to pick up on, but the way he handled it makes you appreciate him that much more.
Morbidly, you wonder what he thinks of your glaring lack of a sex life. Ever since Jay, you’ve kept the details of your relationships, or rather, lack thereof, close to the chest where he’s concerned. And even when you were with Jay, intimacy was never a topic you breached with Jungwon.
The thought has a flush starting anew on your cheekbones. You do your best to dismiss it.
Next to you, Jungwon keeps his eyes on Sophia, nodding at the appropriate times, commenting in a way that proves he’s listening.
But beneath the table, the warmth on his palm finds your knee. Without breaking conversation or giving even the slightest outward hint that his mind is anywhere besides your friend’s story about her boss’ most recent rampage, he squeezes.
Once, gently. Just to let you know that he’s there.
You fidget, and he does it again. This time, he can’t quite help the grin that spreads across his lips.
…..
Despite everything, you can’t shake the feeling of Jungwon’s hand on your knee beneath the table. Days pass, and in quiet moments, if you give your brain enough leeway, it always wanders back there.
To his easy, subtle defense of you. To the way it seemed so natural for him to soothe you silently with his touch.
To the way he looked at you, considering, evaluative, while Sophia laid out the gory details of your fruitless sex life on the table.
And maybe she was right to question you so thoroughly. Maybe it really has been too long, because that’s the only feasible explanation for the thoughts you’re having now.
It’s only natural, you suppose. Jungwon has been a constant in your life, a steady presence, for nearly as long as your memory extends. He’s been there through it all, your worst moments, your best memories. He’s seen all of it, knows you like the back of his hand, and he’s stuck around for it all.
For someone with an intense fear of rejection, it means more than you can say. You can’t think of anyone in this world that you trust more than him.
And intimacy… Intimacy is just an extension of that, you suppose. Being close with someone in that way is the ultimate act of trust.
Maybe that’s why things felt so stilted, so disjointed with Sunghoon. You had nothing against him, but you also didn’t know him at all. Trust is something that takes time, effort. How could you let your guard down with someone you had just met?
It’s just nerves, you’re sure. You’ve been out of practice since Jay, and with each passing day, that relationship just feels further and further away. A distant memory that you can’t recall well enough to guide you now.
Maybe if there was someone you really trusted, someone that you could just practice with, then—
No. You shake your head, dropping the thought as quick as it comes. It’s insane. It’s the exact opposite of everything your relationship with Jungwon has been for the last eighteen years of your life.
Still, when a message from him lights up your phone screen a handful of hours later, it takes you a full minute and a string of deep breaths to convince yourself to open it.
And when you reread the text, an invitation to drive out to a lesser known lookout where the two of you used to go to watch the sunset in high school, you agree easily. If your heart is beating a little too fast in your chest, well, you suppose no one ever has to know about it.
Years ago, you were the one that discovered the outlook. After a particularly awful day, due mostly to your terrible junior year biology teacher, you’d put your newly acquired driver’s license to good use. You had no destination in mind. You were still new to driving and liked the way that it felt, liked the way it seemed like you could outrun any problem if you just drove far enough.
A series of wrong turns led you straight to a forested area not too far from the highway. Jutting high out over a nearby valley, the scene you found sprawled out in front of you was gorgeous.
It was early spring, then. Flowers were just beginning to bloom, glowing in the late afternoon sun. You shifted the car into park, shutting off the engine. And then you sat, for hours, just looking out at all of it.
As the sun faded on the horizon, so did the most pressing of your worries. Looking around you, biology class had begun to feel a lifetime ago.
You realized that day that you found somewhere special, somewhere that you wouldn’t be willing to show to just anyone. Even then, there was only one person you thought you’d ever share the view with, that you’d ever let into your private little sanctuary.
So, one month later, when Jungwon came to your house after school with a crease between his eyebrows that usual methods couldn’t seem to soothe, you offered him the passenger seat of your car and the view you’d been keeping all to yourself.
That day, it became his too. And a tradition of sorts began to form. Whenever either of you was stressed or upset or just needed to get away from it all, you had a shared place to escape to. Somewhere that felt out of reach from everyone else. Somewhere for just the two of you.
You haven’t been back there with Jungwon for the better part of a year. Part of you is a bit worried as you see his car pull up from your apartment window—this time, he’ll be the one driving—that something happened.
After all, the two of you usually saved the outlook for difficult times.
But as you slide into Jungwon’s passenger seat, the only thing he greets you with is an easy smile.
“Good day?” he asks, handing you his phone so you can pick the playlist for the drive.
“Fine,” you nod, settling for an R&B album you know you both like. “What about you?” you ask, still wanting to dissuade your earlier concerns. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods, craning his neck as he checks for cross-traffic before pulling onto the main street. “I just wanted to see you. Thought it might be nice to go somewhere quiet. And it’s a beautiful day.” He looks towards the cloudless sky. “I thought the sunset would be nice.”
The drive goes quickly as you pass familiar streets, reminiscing as memories coming back at every turn.
“Oh my god,” you say as one comes back suddenly. “Remember that time we drove out here because James rejected me at junior prom?”
Jungwon frowns. “James was an idiot.”
It rings true in hindsight. “Yeah, but I was devastated. I cried so hard I got snot on my dress.” It’s easy to laugh at now, even if the sting was unbearable in the moment. “No wonder he said no.”
“He said no because he was a dumbass,” Jungwon argues. “Besides, it can’t be worse than the time we came here because I didn’t make the taekwondo competition team.”
Something about the memory, even now, makes your heart clench a little. “That was just sad,” you tell him softly. “You were so disappointed.”
“I got over it,” he shrugs. “The dartboard you made of my coach’s face helped.”
“Oh my god,” your eyes widen. “I forgot about that.”
Jungwon smiles like it’s a fond memory. “You were so violent.”
You shake your head. “Only for you. I don’t think I’d ever wanted to hit someone more.”
Trading memories like secrets, the two of you eventually reach the right exit. Pulling off the highway, the air around you immediately feels more still. Calmer.
And when Jungwon pulls right up to the overlook, shifting his car into park and shutting off the ignition, things feel just like you left them.
The sun is getting close to the horizon now. The valley that stretches out beneath you as far as the eye can see glows in the last rays of daylight.
Your gaze stretches out too, welcoming that sense of familiarity. “It looks the same,” you whisper.
“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “It does.”
Returning here now makes times feel sharper, more obvious.
“We’ve been coming here for what, six years now?” You shake your head. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. I can’t believe I graduated. Like, I’m just done with university now. I still remember when it felt so far away.”
“Yeah.” Jungwon nods, eyes on the horizon. “Me too.”
For a moment, the space between you is silent, the air filled with nothing but the sound of your quiet breaths.
You weren’t the one who asked him here, but if there was ever a place to admit the worries in your mind, you suppose it would be now.
Quietly, you say, “Can I ask you something?”
Jungwon turns to you, attuned to the serious tone of your voice. “Of course.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me,” you promise. “I know we don’t really talk about this kind of stuff usually, and—”
“___,” he interrupts, “Ask me.”
You take a breath. You can feel his gaze on you, but you can’t quite look him in the eye when you ask, “Do you think Sophia was right?”
“About what?” His shoulders stiffen. “Sunghoon?”
“No,” you shake your head, and the tension loosens, but only slightly. “About me.”
“What about you?” he breathes.
“That I…” you trail off, searching for the right words. “That it’s been too long since I was with someone.”
Even now, you can’t bring yourself to say it. To call a spade a spade. Jungwon reads between the lines easily enough.
He shakes his head. “It’s your choice to make. Yours and no one else’s, for whatever reasons you want. Don’t let Sophia make you feel bad just because her choice is different from yours.”
“I know,” you sigh. “But sometimes I think she’s right. That the longer I wait, the more difficult I’m making things for myself, like I’m just making the hurdle in my mind bigger and bigger. I mean, the last time I was with someone, you know, like that, was with Jay, and that was already—”
Jungwon’s inhale is sharp. “It was?”
“See?” you frown, mistaking his surprise for confirmation of your fears. “It’s been so long. Too long. Even you think so.”
“I don’t—” he tries, shaking his head. Now Jungwon’s the one scrambling for words. “I don’t think it’s been too long. I was just surprised,” he says. “That’s all.”
“Yeah, surprised because of how long it’s been.” You laugh humorlessly. “Now even you think I’m a nun.”
“I don’t think that,” he shakes his head. “Like I said, it’s your choice.”
“Is it though?” you ask. “The more time passes, the more I start to think that the cards just aren’t stacked in my favor.”
Jungwon frowns. “What do you mean?”
Your palms splay against your lap. The last rays of sun stretch over the valley, and your words are spilling out before you can stop them. “Maybe Sunghoon only acted interested because of Sophia. Maybe every time anyone has expressed interest, it hasn’t been genuine.” You sigh. “It’s like, logically I know that’s just the insecurity talking, but the more time passes, the harder those thoughts are to shake.”
For a moment, Jungwon is quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is low, serious. Pleading for your understanding. “___,” he says, “you’re beautiful. Truly. Any man would be lucky for even the smallest piece of your time or attention. I know that it’s hard sometimes, and that those voices and doubts can feel so loud, but I really wish you could see yourself the way other people do. The way I do.”
“Jungwon…”
“If you decide to have a relationship with someone, one of any nature, then it should be because you want to, not because you feel like you have to or because you’re trying to prove something.”
“What if I never get over it?” you ask, voice small, hardly a whisper. “What if I never get past this fear?”
“You will,” Jungwon promises. “It might not happen as fast as you want it to or in the way you expect it to, but you will.”
It’s so him, you think. So Jungwon to have more faith in you than even you ever could. He’s been here since the beginning, and he’s not going anywhere. He’s seen you face obstacles and challenges before, and he’s always done everything in his power to help you overcome them.
Maybe this is no different. Maybe the only thing you ever needed was some help from Jungwon.
Maybe…
No. Even with your logic twisting things to your favor, you know that this is different. This is different from asking for a favor or some moral support. If you ask Jungwon to do this for you, you’re crossing a line. One that you’re not sure you’d be able to come back from.
The friendship you have isn’t just something you’re unwilling to risk. It has quite literally become something you don’t know how to live without. You’ve never had to try, never even had to imagine a life without Jungwon at your side.
The only time that came close was during your first year of university, during your relationship with Jay, and that had been nearly enough to wreck you. The potential fallout from this could be worse, so much worse. You won’t risk it.
But then, unbidden, your mind supplies a memory. One from his couch, little more than a week ago.
“You can ask me,” he’d told you, earnest in his delivery, “anything you want me to do.” He said it himself. He promised you. “I’ll say yes.”
So, before you can lose your grip on the last remnants of courage you have, you ask, “Would you ever…”
It’s as far as you get before your bravery fails you, words trailing off into nothingness.
You wish you could take them back when Jungwon asks, a little breathless. “Would I ever what?”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Just forget I said anything.”
But he won’t let you get away so easily. “Ask me.”
And you swear, it’s like he knows. His gaze bores into yours, searching, pleading, desperate, like he can see you all the way down to your bones. Like even the most secret of your thoughts have been laid bare before him.
“___,” he whispers your name. “Ask me,” he repeats.
“I just…” Your eyes screw shut. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “What if we…”
“What if we what?”
You open your eyes, but only to look down towards your lap. “I trust you,” you whisper. In the silence of his car, it feels like you’re shouting. “More than anyone. Maybe I’ll be able to get over that hurdle in my mind if I just let you—”
“Let me what?” he asks. “Touch you?”
The breath you draw is ragged, shallow, as he hits the bullseye with little effort. Your fingers find a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater. You know better, but you pull anyway. “Yeah,” you exhale. “If you…” You can’t look him in the eye, even now. It’s hardly a whisper, but you can’t bring yourself to say it any louder. “If I let you touch me.”
Jungwon’s inhale is sharp, his shudder involuntary. He leans across the center console, closer to you. Closer, closer, closer, until he stops, lips parting, face inches from yours.
He takes a deep breath in, holding it as his eyes search your face even as you keep yours turned down. Your heart hammers in your chest so violently you think it must be trying to escape. You still can’t look at him.
Jungwon’s breath escapes him in a shallow huff, dusting across your cheekbone. He lingers there for a second, like he can’t stand the thought of distance.
Then, without a warning, he sits back in his seat, knuckles white against the fabric of his jeans.
“I can’t,” he tells you.
You look up, eyes widening in surprise. “What?”
“I can’t,” he repeats. This time, he’s the one avoiding eye contact. You search his features for anything, any kind of explanation, but all you find is the tense set of his jaw, the heat that still simmers in his gaze. The restraint holding him back.
And suddenly, shame flashes through you. White hot humiliation that stings all the way down to your bones. It was one thing to imagine rejection from faceless men. But feeling it now, from him, from Jungwon, is so much worse than anything your mind ever conjured.
Trying not to let accusation sit too heavy in your tone, you whisper, “You promised.” It’s so pathetic, but there’s nothing left of your pride at that point. “You told me you’d say yes to anything.”
Jungwon flinches. “And I’m trying,” he tells you, an edge to his voice that sings with desperation. “Believe me, I am. I’m doing my best to make this about you, but…”
“But what?” You scoff. “You changed your mind? The thought of me like that is so repulsive you have to—”
“No.” He won’t let you finish. “But you’re sitting here, looking at me like you’d do anything for it, like you need it, and I can’t just say yes and give it to you because I do too.”
Your anger subsides, replaced with confusion. “What do you—”
“I need it too.” Only then does he meet your eye. Wide in the dying glow of lingering daylight, he’s begging for a bit of your understanding. “I’m trying to be selfless, but if I touch you, that won’t be just for you.”
Your brow creases. You still don’t get it. “I don’t—”
Jungwon releases a shaky exhale. “I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you since I was old enough to know what it meant. Since I was old enough to want things like that at all.”
It’s all too much, too sudden. “Jungwon, what—”
“I know that you still think of me as the kid you grew up next to, and I’ve been doing my best not to shatter the illusion because you like me like that. But you come home from a date telling me it didn’t work out, telling me that boys don’t like you, and all I can think is good.” His hand curls into a fist, knuckles white. “I could do it so much better anyway.”
“I didn’t…” You shake your head. It doesn’t make sense. “You never—”
But Jungwon isn’t done yet. “You’re sitting here asking me to touch you, but I— fuck, ___. I can’t. Not when you’re only asking because you think it doesn’t mean anything to me. That it won’t change anything for me. You tell me that you trust me, and it’s the sweetest thing about you. I can’t take advantage of that.” His breath is practically heaving now, like he’s just finished running. “I can’t use your trust and break it like this.”
The sun dips past the horizon. The only lingering remnants of daylight cast his face into a gentle glow. Even as shadows begin to trace his features, he’s still Jungwon. Your Jungwon. But no matter how many times you spin his words through your mind, you can’t form them into something you understand. Something you have any idea what to do with.
“I…” It’s so confusing. It’s entirely too much. All you can think is, “Why did you never say anything?”
Jungwon laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Would it have changed anything? I know you. You run when you get scared. You like me like this, your harmless little friend. You said it yourself, you think you know everything about boys like me. And you needed a friend. So that’s what I’ll be. Your friend. But I can’t say yes, not to this.”
“What if—”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I know you think I can handle anything, but don’t tell me things you don’t mean.”
“Jungwon,” you try softly.
His fingers wrap around his steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “Just let me drive you home,” he pleads.
“But—”
“Please,” he whispers, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so broken. “I know it was too much, that it’s not fair to you, but I can’t… I don’t think I can look at you right now and see all that confusion. So just,” he begs again, “please. Let me take you home.”
You want to press the issue, want to keep going until you have even a small fragment of understanding to call yours, but Jungwon is no stranger to making sacrifices for you. It seems he’s been making even more than you ever realized.
Tonight, right now, you can do the same for him.
“Okay,” you whisper.
The drive home passes in silence. Heavy, thick, uncomfortable like a blanket on a sweltering summer night. Neither of you bother to turn on the music this time. The only company to the quiet are the thoughts spinning through your mind, the moon that begins to shine as dusk turns to night.
Still, as he eases into the driveway just in front of your apartment, you can’t help but whisper, “Good night, Jungwon” as you step out of the passenger seat.
Whatever has passed between you, whatever terrible precipice the two of you have just fallen from, he doesn’t seem to be able to either.
“Good night, ____.”
By the time you make it inside, he’s gone. You know it will be, even before you check for his car from your bedroom window.
…..
“Um,” you begin, entirely unsure how to start the conversation. Across from you, Sophia sits on her favorite kitchen stool, scrolling through her Instagram feed while you wait for the pasta water to boil. “Something happened.”
“Mm?” She hums halfheartedly, eyes still trained on her phone screen.
Your words come out too fast, like you’re in a rush to have them over with as quickly as you can. “I was with Jungwon a few nights ago, and—”
“Oh my god,” she interrupts as she finally looks up, phone forgotten as she sets in on the counter. “You two finally hooked up?”
“What?” Your face pales at just how close she is to the truth. “Why would you even ask that? We’ve never even come close.” Well, of course, except for the incident you’re currently trying to explain. That you’ve been tiptoeing around for the better part of a minute.
“Are you kidding?” Sophia deadpans. “That boy looks at you like he wants to eat you.”
You splutter. “He does not.”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t look at me for a week after I set you up with Sunghoon. And I thought he was gonna kill me that day he saw us at the cafe. All I did was mention the possibility of you having sex with someone that wasn’t him, and it’s like he was writing my name on some imaginary death note.”
“You don’t even watch anime,” you point out.
“I know the reference,” she argues.
Then, something more pressing draws your attention. “You did it on purpose,” you accuse, realization dawning. “You kept pushing the subject that day to see how he’d react.”
“No,” she denies, shaking her head. “I really do think you should put yourself out there more. Whether it’s Sunghoon or him or someone entirely different. Although,” she considers, “it is always kind of fun to see him get like that. Jungwon’s one of those people you don’t really expect it from, you know? He’s always so calm and collected. But I don’t know if I’ll try it again,” she looks at you, faking a shudder. “He’s scary when it comes to you.”
Any other day, in any other situation, you’d protest. You’d insist that Jungwon is entirely unaffected by you and your romantic choices. That Sophia must have been imagining things that day.
But Jungwon has already basically confirmed every last one of her claims, whispered them to you himself from the secrecy of his driver’s seat.
It’s the reason you invited her over today. To talk. To get a different perspective. To help you work through what happened.
Now, though, you just have a question.
“Why…” You still can’t wrap your mind around it. “Why did no one ever say anything?”
Sophia senses the shift, the way you go from defense to acceptance. From arguing to spiraling.
“Oh, ___,” she pouts. “My poor, sweet, oblivious ____.”
“I’m not oblivious,” you argue.
“Not usually,” she agrees. “But it’s like you have this blind spot when it comes to him. He’ll be in the middle of undressing you with his eyes and you’ll start telling some story about the matching diapers your moms bought when you were babies.”
“They were pajamas,” you correct.
“Whatever,” Sophia waves it off. “The point still stands. That boy wants you. Like, biblically.”
It’s consistent. It’s as much as Jungwon himself told you himself. But something about it makes you feel so terribly defeated, so completely unaware of everything you thought you knew about your friendship. About him. About yourself.
A bit helplessly, you ask, “What am I supposed to do?”
Sophia takes one look at you, at the dejection clouding your features, and sighs. “Can I be honest with you?”
You nod.
“I think you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about what you’re supposed to do. It’s not about what Jungwon wants or what I think about your weird, sexually charged friendship.” Then, she asks the million dollar question, “What do you want to do?”
But that’s exactly the problem, you think, because, “I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean, I’ve never thought about it. He’s always just been Jungwon to me.” Pausing for a moment, you suppose you have little pride left to lose. You might as well be honest. “But the other night, when I was with him. I started thinking about… things.”
“Things,” Sophia repeats. She leans in closer, resting her chin against her palm as she asks, “What kinds of things? Feel free to be graphic, by the way.”
“Sophia.”
She pouts sympathetically. “You might not know right away. You’ve spent your entire life thinking of him as some untouchable, sexless entity. Which is kind of crazy, by the way. Like, have you seen the guy?”
You sigh. “Sophia—”
“I’m just saying, it might not happen overnight.” She looks at you, and you feel a sudden surge of gratitude for your friend. She may be wildly different from you in more ways than one, but she means it when she says, “It’s okay. Jungwon will understand, too. If you need some more time to decide if you want to jump his bones or not. He’s probably already been waiting since, like, junior prom. What’s a little longer?”
A little longer, you think. Part of you already spins with doubt, waiting for someone else to supply exact answers. How long is a little longer? When should you make your decision? How long is it supposed to take for you to know if your best friend of eighteen years is meant to stay as just that, or if the relationship between you has been building, slowly, surely, undeniably, into something else this whole time?
But you suppose that’s what Sophia means when she says it’s okay. What Jungwon meant when he told you it was alright to do things at your own pace, on your own time. You don’t need someone else to decide for you.
The difficulty isn’t a flaw—it’s a sign that this decision is one that matters to you, one that’s worth taking your time with.
So you do.
You think about it while you fine tune your resume for yet another job application. You think about it while you snip thorns off of roses at the flower shop, humming along absentmindedly to the playlist in the background.
You think about it in the shower and while you dinner. When your mom calls you and tells you about the new bulbs she just bought for her garden, the one that time and experience have allowed her to grow into something beautiful and thriving.
You think about it when you reach into the bottom drawer of your dresser one evening, pulling out the gift Jungwon gave you when you graduated high school nearly five long years ago.
A photobook, full of all your favorite memories together. Something to remember him by, he’d told you, so you wouldn’t miss him too much when you went off to university one whole year ahead of him.
In every picture, you’re smiling, grinning so wide you think your face must be in danger of splitting in two. And you’re so lucky, you think, to have someone to share all of these memories with. To have someone who’s been in your life for so long, who’s always been exactly what you needed.
And then, staring at a picture of the two of you in high school, his arm around your shoulders as the two of you laugh into the camera, you think it’s obvious.
You don’t have to make a choice between the Jungwon you know and the one you’re afraid to discover. Jungwon has been, and always will be, Jungwon. The way he smiles at you, because of you, isn’t an illusion, and the love he offers you isn’t conditional.
He’s been your friend for as long as you can remember, and he will be for the rest of your life. Your feelings and hopes and desires may have shifted, but he isn’t going anywhere.
He’s not scared of the truth, you realize. He never was. But he knew that you would be.
So he fed it to you slowly until it was too prominent to deny anymore. And even then, he gave you space. Time. Let you come to your own conclusions.
And somehow, that makes all the difference.
You think of the game you used to play as kids, the one where you put on your best dress and let him pick wildflowers for you from his back yard. The one where you used the welcome mat from his porch as a makeshift aisle. The one where every time you walked down it, he was the one waiting for you at the end.
You smile, nearly identical to the picture still splayed open across your lap, and you think that maybe there was never really a choice at all.
…..
Your knuckles barely rap against the door three times before you hear shuffling on the other side. Footsteps drawing closer until the latch opens, until the door draws back and you see him standing there. Jungwon.
If he’s surprised to see you, he doesn’t show it. Dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain, fitted black t-shirt, you don’t think he was expecting company.
“Hi,” you breathe. “Can we talk?”
Jungwon still says nothing, but he opens the door a bit wider, gives you space to walk in. Standing in the entry, you take your shoes off, setting them neatly with the others before drawing back up to full height. Prolonging the inevitable as if it makes any part of what you’re about to do easier.
You finally drag your eyes back to Jungwon. He’s already looking at you, expression unreadable. His hands are loose at his sides, but his posture is just slightly unnatural. Just a little too stiff. You know him. He’s nervous.
Finally, you break the silence building between you. “I’ve been thinking,” you tell him.
“About what?” he asks.
“You,” you admit. “Us.” A string somewhere pulls taught. A thread loosens.
Jungwon sighs, his exhale shaky. His hand curls to a loose fist before he tucks it into his pocket. “And?”
“I—” Your decision is still solid, not something you’ll back away from. But the words are harder to work out than you expected. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
Jungwon nods. “I know.”
“So,” you try, “it feels weird to suddenly have these thoughts about…”
He won’t let you leave things unsaid, not this time. “About what?”
“You know,” you try to deflect.
“Yeah,” he agrees, “but I’m gonna make you say it.”
You fidget a bit, eyes dropping, but you didn’t come all the way here because you weren’t sure. You know exactly what you want to tell him.
So you explain, “I just… you asked me, after my date with Sunghoon, what I was looking for.” It feels like a long time ago now, like a distant memory. “And I always felt like I didn’t know, but when I think about it, I always think about…”
“What?” Jungwon breathes.
“You.” Your eyes meet his. This time, neither of you looks away. “I think about you. I don’t have to try and come up with the best answer to my favorite hobbies because you already know. You know me better than anyone and you make me feel good about myself and all the things I usually don’t like. I don’t feel awkward or uncomfortable around you, and I don’t feel like I have to explain myself to you.”
Jungwon’s breath is coming heavier now. He takes half a step towards you, almost subconsciously, as if distance is something he’s finding more difficult to tolerate. But he knows you aren’t done, so he lets you continue.
“And then,” you add, “I was thinking about the difference between our friendship as it’s always been and the kind of relationship I think I want. And the only thing that’s really different is, you know, the sex.” Your words are spilling now, faster than even you can keep up with. “But even then, when I was trying to think of someone who I trusted enough to be with like that, the only person I thought of was—”
“Me,” Jungwon finishes, gaze unreadable.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “You. I don’t want to go on blind dates with Sophia’s coworkers or find random guys to hook up with. I just want you. It’s always been you. I want all of it to be you.”
Jungwon’s eyes shutter, brows going slack as he takes a deep inhale.
But you want to give him the same courtesy he’s been extending towards you this entire time. The decision, you want him to know, will always be his to make. “I know it might seem weird or sudden or out of the blue,” you tell him, “but I just needed you to know.” Thinking of his earlier promise you clarify, “You don’t have to say yes. I don’t even know if I’m really asking you anything—”
“You think about me?” he interrupts. “When you think about what you want in a relationship?”
The bluntness of it all still makes you want to squirm. But you hold steady. “Yeah,” you tell him.
“And when you think about having sex,” He’s so direct. It makes you want to hide your face behind your hands. “That’s me too?”
You can’t quite manage words this time, but your nod is confirmation enough.
Jungwon exhales, even harsher than before. “Are you just curious?” he asks. “It’s fine if you are, but I can’t— we can’t do this if you’re just trying to scratch an itch. If you’re just doing it to move on, to get over a fear.”
“I…” you’re trying to read between the lines, to make sure that you understand what he’s saying. It seems obvious, but there’s a strange haze in your mind that has you doubting everything, including your own judgement. “If we do…”
Jungwon doesn’t seem to have the same reservations for spelling it out. “If we have sex.”
“Oh,” you breathe. And then, “No.” You shake your head.
“No?” He echoes.
“I…” You trail off, trying to find the right words to explain. “I’m not—There’s no fear when it comes to you. I’m not trying to get over anything. And there’s no one else that I even want to be with like that, so…” You trail off, searching for the words. “You told me it was my choice, and I guess I just want you to know that it’s yours, too. You don’t have to agree to anything, because you’re afraid of disappointing me or hurting my feelings or—”
“___,” he whispers your name, the sound nearly broken on his lips. You look up at him, eyes wide. “Come here,” he begs.
It only takes two tiny steps for you to stand just before him, for your chests to nearly brush. For a moment, Jungwon does nothing. Then, his arms come up, one circling around your shoulders, the other against the small of your back as he pulls you flush to him.
The side of your face rests against his chest, his heartbeat erratic under your cheek. You hear him sigh and feel the way his breath flutters through your hair.
He leans back, just slightly, and you follow the movement, chin tilting upwards as your eyes meet his. The hand wrapped around your shoulders slowly unravels itself. He brings his hand up to your temple, brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
His other hand stays steady against the small of your back.
Jungwon’s fingertips linger against the shell of your ear for a moment. You suppress a shudder as he begins to drag them down, tracing the line of your jaw until they come to settle just beneath your chin.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
You nod, the movement making his fingers press more firmly into your skin.
Then, slowly, he begins to lean towards you. His nose brushes against yours, once, twice, a third time.
“I’ve thought about this,” he admits. “More times than I can count.”
He’s told you as much before, but now, with his hands on you and his lips just inches away, it feels different. It feels real.
“I imagined you looking at me,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “with those big, wide eyes.” Another kiss, this time to the curve of your cheekbone. “Clinging to me,” a kiss to your eyelid as it flutters shut. “Sighing.” The tip of your nose. “And I’d try to hold back, but—”
“You don’t have to,” you shake your head. It comes out quieter than you mean for it too. It’s ridiculous, maybe, but even now, you feel shy.
“You mean that?” he asks, lips hovering so close you can feel their warmth.
You nod, nose brushing against his.
Jungwon sighs, takes a deep breath. And then he presses forward, just enough, until his lips finally brush against yours.
His grip tightens against you, fingers bunching the fabric of your shirt that rests against the small of your back.
He’s gentle, so impossibly sweet as his lips find yours. Upper lip slotting between both of yours, he tugs slightly against your bottom lip. Releases it with a soft, wet sound. Smiles against you as you giggle into him.
When his lips find yours again, it’s with renowned fervency. The pressure is more insistent this time, more demanding as he uses the hand beneath your jaw to angle you his liking.
Jungwon takes the lead, pausing, soothing his touch against your skin while you adjust to his pace.
Your hands find his hair, tangling in the strands near his neck. You tug, an involuntary response when you feel his teeth against your bottom lip, and he groans, shuddering against you.
Without breaking connection, he moves, walking backwards, leading blindly, until he sits down on the same couch you’ve been sharing moments on for weeks now. This time, he tugs you down with him, pulling you flush against his lap.
You feel it then, the evidence of just how affected he is. As if the drunk flush on his cheeks and swollen, red tint of his lips weren’t enough.
Jungwon wraps both hands around your waist now, pulling you tighter to him as your fingers cup his jaw, tracing, gripping.
You feel it then, his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you part them without a second thought.
Jungwon waits until you’re breathless above him to decide that he’s had enough of this position. Using the leverage of his hands around you, he maneuvers your body until you're flat against the cushions, head propped against the pillow that sits by the armrest.
Hovering over you now, he uses his hands to brace himself on either side of your head. Eyes trained on your features, on the evidence of his ministrations. His gaze gets darker, heavier, as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. Skin flushed, lips swollen and parted in anticipation, in permission.
Jungwon’s had his fantasies. Has kept them close to his chest and in the back of his mind for longer than he’d be willing to admit. But the sight of you now. Under him, reaching for him, begging for him, is enough to shatter every wet dream he’s had since he was a teenager.
Jungwon doesn’t maintain distance for long. Leaning down, he invades all of your senses. All you can see, even with your eyes screwed shut, is him. All you can feel is his lips, warm and insistent against your, the press of his hands on you, hovering just above the sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up over your waistband. Every sound, every scent, every taste—it’s all him. Something warm and familiar and entirely new all at once.
His hand plays with the fabric of your hem for a moment, testing the waters. When all you do is kiss him back—harder—he decides to press his luck. Fingertips dancing against the bare skin of your lower stomach, he starts to drag your shirt upwards.
The air of his apartment is cool, even if his touch is anything but. It makes every inch of exposed skin that much more sensitive, goosebumps rising as his fingertips trace patterns against you.
His lips press against yours, a new angle, as a sound loosens itself from your chest. He swallows it, tongue pressing against you like he wants to savor it, like he’d do anything to hear it again.
He has your shirt nearly to your ribcage now, fingers tracing against the bottom seam of your bra, nerves singing with something new as you arch up against him. You need more.
Friction, pressure, touch, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take whatever he gives you.
Then, suddenly, you remember. Pulling back slightly, his lips chase yours.
“Wait,” you pant, the syllable muffled as he presses another kiss against you.
Once your request registers, he stops, mouth still brushing against yours. Leaning back slightly, he frowns. His chest still heaves when he asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, breathless. “But what about Jake?”
“What?” Jungwon asks above you. You don’t seem to be the only one struggling with coherent thought.
“Jake,” you repeat. “What if he comes in?”
He wouldn’t see anything, not really. Even the expanse of your bare torso is covered by Jungwon’s body on yours. But still, something in you hesitates. This, all of it, is for you and him. No one else.
Jungwon shakes his head. “He’s not home.”
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Jungwon insists. “He’s visiting his family for the weekend. He won’t be back until Monday.”
Still breathing hard, it’s as if your interruption knocked sense back into him. Palm still splayed against your ribs, he rubs gentle strokes with the pad of his thumb.
Looking down at you, his eyes crinkle slightly at the way you look so sweet under him, so shy despite what you’d been doing only moments earlier.
“Hey,” he leans down, nudging his nose against yours, “You doing okay?”
You nod, but you still don’t match his gaze.
“Yeah?” he confirms, “Then look at me.”
It takes a moment, but you do. Your cheeks only redden further, flush more apparent than he’s ever seen it before when you finally meet his eye.
Something in his chest swells. You might be a year older, but fuck if it doesn’t make him feel like such a man knowing that he’s the reason you look like this, that he’s the one who did this to you.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, grinning when you look away again. He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. A chaste peck against the seam of your lips. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”
“Jungwon,” you whine.
“What?” he asks. “It’s true.”
“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
“I can take a break to compliment you?”
You flush again, hands coming up to cover your face.
“Ah, ah,” Jungwon tsks, fingers wrapping around your wrists. “I asked you to look at me.” He pulls, gentle but insistent, until your hands fall away. Until he can once again look you in the eye.
“How long are you just gonna stare at me?” you ask.
“As long as you’ll let me,” he grins.
“Jungwon,” you whine again.
“Why?” he asks, practically cooing at you now. “Is my baby shy?”
You shudder at the pet name, and it awakens something devious in him.
“Oh,” he breathes. “I see. You’re getting impatient. Need me to touch you. Is that it?”
All you do is whine, but it’s a good enough answer for him.
“C’mon,” he urges, leaning back. “Up.”
You frown at the sudden distance, a furrow creasing your brow.
“The first time we have sex is not going to be on my living room couch,” he explains. Taking your hand in his, he guides you instead towards his bedroom.
And it’s not like you’ve never been here before, but something about the low light, the weight of what you’re about to do, makes it feel like uncharted territory.
You step into the room, even further than Jungwon, eyes trained on the queen size bed pressed up under the window on the far side of the room.
Your back to him, you hear Jungwon pull the door shut. It latches into place with a quiet click. And then, behind you, he asks, “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you admit, turning to face him as you sit on the edge of his bed. “Us. I never thought…” you trail off, palm smoothing against the top of his sheets. “I never thought we’d be here.”
“I did,” Jungwon tells you.
“Really?” Your eyes widen when you look at him.
“Maybe thought is the wrong word,” he amends. “But I hoped.” He’s quiet for a moment, emotions playing out across his features. “Now that you’re here, I…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to do anything wrong,” he admits. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You won’t.” You shake your head. “I told you. I trust you. That includes this, too.”
Jungwon looks at you, gaze open. “You mean that?”
“Of course,” you nod.
Some of the tension drains from his broad shoulders, but he stays where he is, silhouette shrouded in the dim light of his bedroom.
This time, it’s you who takes charge.
“Jungwon,” you whisper, an echo of your earlier embrace in his entry way. “Come here.”
That’s all the encouragement he needs. His footsteps are even, steady, as he makes his way towards you. All the way until he stands just before you, looking down at where you sit on his sheets.
His hand comes to your cheek, thumb tracing patterns against your skin as you lean into his touch.
“Up,” he instructs. “Back against the pillows.” His hand falls from your face, trails down until his fingers interlace with yours. He follows in your wake as you move according to his instructions, all the way until you’re in a ghost of the position from his couch.
His body hovers over yours, breath warm as it fans against your cheekbone.
Again, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. This time, he’s less shy about pressing it upwards, all the way until it sits against the band of your bra.
Plain, black, built more for comfort than arousal. But you know Jungwon. He’ll take you as you are.
“Jungwon,” you breathe, just as his fingertip slips beneath the band. It takes him a moment to tear his eyes away, to look up and meet your gaze. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Lips meeting yours, the slow build from before is gone. He knows what he’s searching for now, has already learned what rhythm makes you breathless fastest, palms splaying against his chest like you’d do anything to be closer.
His hand comes to your hip, then slides to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder as he guides it open, pliant to his touch. Jungwon uses the newly created space to slot his leg in between yours.
The shift has him brushing against you where tension is beginning to gather, exactly where you’re beginning to ache.
It feels good, but there’s something frustrating about it. The way sensation builds and falls in the same maddening ebb and flow, like the sea of an uncharacteristically quiet day.
You already know it’s not enough. Against his lips, you whine. A pathetic little sound that stays half trapped in your throat. But Jungwon understands.
Sees the way your hips are starting to roll against him, the way your brow creases in concentration as you try to find a better angle.
Leg still between yours, he lets his fingertips ghost over the planes of your bare stomach, dragging downwards until he’s exactly where you want him.
You whine against his lips and he shudders. “Is this what you need?”
You can hardly respond, can hardly think as his fingers dip below your waistband. Far more precise, it doesn’t take long to have you seeing stars.
He’s still kissing you, and you do your best to return it, but the sensations he levels you with are more than a little maddening. Lips parted against his, your mouth is practically slack as he works against you.
“Feels—good,” you sigh, eyes screwing shut.
“I can tell,” he whispers, some kind of awe in his voice. “Look at you.”
You’re so close. Jungwon can tell, too. He’s frantic now, movements tighter, faster as he watches the way your face twists in pleasure.
Your hand closes around his wrist, stopping him. “Jungwon,” you pant, the sound of his name hardly coherent. “Wait.”
Immediately, his hand stills. He doesn’t pull away though, just leaves it there, against you.
The sensation sends a fresh, aching throb pulsing from somewhere deep within you. Jungwon feels it too, against his fingertips, and groans.
Remembering himself, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I just… I’m ready.”
Jungwon thinks he knows what you mean. He’s imagined those same words from you before. A million times, in a million different contexts. But the sight of you beneath him, eyes wide, lips parted, so terribly sweet, is so much better than he ever dreamed.
“I want you,” you whisper, tugging at his wrist. “Please.”
Jungwon won’t make you wait. Fingers still hidden beneath your waistband, he slides them towards the top now, pulling, all the way until you’re bare beneath him.
He presses a kiss against your hip, just shy of where he was moments before.
He helps you slide your shirt over your head and shudders when your bra follows in its wake. He marvels at the feeling of your hands, smaller than his, tugging at his shirt, his jeans, until the two of you are in an equal state of undress.
Again, because it’s true and because he can’t help himself, he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”
You’re still shy, even more so with the weight of his gaze on you, but you manage, “So are you.” It’s his turn to flush.
Hands pressing against your shoulders, he guides you to lay down again. Hair fanning out against his pillows, he thinks you look a bit like an angel here, tangled in his sheets.
He’d tell you, if he weren’t so distracted by the sudden feeling of your leg coming to wrap around his waist.
Skin against skin, it feels even closer than before. Warmer, Softer.
“Jungwon,” your brows pull downward, eyes fluttering shut as you chase the sensations that have begun to drown you. “Please.”
He moves slowly, not from hesitation. Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever been so sure of anything in his life. But he knows what this means to you, to him. He wants to take his time, wants to let every part of you adjust to him until you feel like an extension of one another, until your bodies can’t quite tell where one ends and the other begins.
He swallows your gasp as he presses into you. Brows furrowed, lips parted, he drops his head into the crook of your neck, scattering soothing kisses down the length of your throat.
“Feels so good,” he encourages as you whimper, adjusting. “Perfect, like you were made for me.”
The sentiment rings true, now and later, when he feels you relax around him, when he starts to move.
Slowly, reverently, at a pace that lets him press as deep as possible.
He brings his hand from your hip to the space just beneath your navel, palm splaying over your lower stomach, just above where he presses inside of you. Pushing down slightly, the added pressure makes you whine, tightening around him.
Jungwon groans, a long, deep sound that vibrates between your bodies.
“Jungwon,” you whisper, when the ache starts to sing, when the pressure starts to build. When you close your eyes and see stars behind them.
“I know,” he pants, like he feels it too. “It’s okay,” he assures. “I have you.”
It’s a reminder of what brought you here in the first place. And the sound of his voice is all you need.
Keening high in your throat, every muscle, every nerve, every fiber in your body goes taut. Tightens, pulls, before it releases. Jungwon leans down, lips parted against your collarbone as he groans, falling over the same edge only moments after you.
The shower he runs for you is warm, the touch he washes your hair with soothing as he rinses soap from your scalp.
The sheets are soft as you crawl between them, Jungwon’s chest firm as he pulls you tight against him.
“Sleep,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple.
Body exhausted, mind sated, it doesn’t take long for you to do as he says. In his arms, the rest that finds you is deep and dreamless.
…..
“Name?” Across from you, the secretary that sits at the front desk looks bored out of her mind. As if she’s seen one too many potential new hires and doesn’t think they’re worth remembering at this point.
You give her your name, and she types a brief note into her computer. Doesn’t bother memorizing it, but you won’t let that get to you, not today.
“You can sit over there.” She gestures towards the row of chairs against the far wall of the reception area. With a smile so tight you think her jaw must hurt, she adds, “I’ll call you when they’re ready.”
It’s not much. It’s barely even polite, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when this is the first real company you’ve stepped foot in in months. When this is the first time you’ve gotten a string of congratulations in the subject line of your email inbox instead of rejections.
Still, it isn’t a sure thing. A test run, the hiring manager had called it. A week of in-person work at the company to see if you’ll be a good fit, if they’re willing to formally offer you a position.
An extension of the already lengthy interview process you’ve been subjected to for the last six weeks. But it’s far more than you’ve gotten from anywhere else.
It’s enough to have hope soaring in your chest, even at the prospect of a week of what is essentially unpaid labor.
Sliding down into the chair, you tug at the sleeve of your blazer, smooth the collar over one final time.
In your mind, you rehearse the answers you gave during your interviews. You’re not sure if you’ll be asked again, but you figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.
You’re interested in the position, because the company’s mission statement excites you. You think it aligns well with your experience and your hopes for a future career.
Are you good with deadlines? Better than nearly everyone you know. Do you work well under pressure? Absolutely. Where do you see yourself in five years? Advancing in your career as a young professional in the same field you earned your degree in. The same field a position at this company would put you in.
As the minutes pass, you remind yourself to breathe, to relax. The butterflies taking flight in your stomach won’t help you now, so you do your best to banish them.
And, minutes later, just as the secretary calls your name, you feel your phone buzz.
Glancing down, you grin at the message that comes through.
You got this, Jungwon says, the small heart next to his contact name shining like a reminder. Knock em dead
And then, beneath it,
Can’t wait to see you tonight beautiful
So, you stand up a little straighter. Shoulders square, chin high. You’re okay, even as your nerves threaten to send your heart beating out of your chest.
No matter what the results of this so-called trial run are, or every single attempt you’ll surely make after it, you’ll be fine. And if you fail, you’ll try again.
Whether this ends in an official offer letter or a bold-faced rejection, no matter what, you have Jungwon—rooting for you, thinking of you, waiting for you to come back and tell him all about it.
Jungwon, your best friend, your favorite person, and probably, if the feelings you’re starting to get whenever he’s near are anything to go by, the love of your life.
You meet the secretary’s gaze, smiling even as all she does is arch a brow. And then you tell her, “I’m ready.”
YAY thank you for the tag zanna! what sucks is that most of my biases have left their groups (in this year ALONE) 😭 that is NOT stopping me from adding them though!!
in order: vernon, dk (svt - ults), martin (cortis), keeho (p1h), hueningkai (txt), maki (&team), hongjoong, yunho (ateez), heeseung (ex-enha), ricky (ex-zb1, and2ble), mark lee (ex-nct, soloist)
tagging @yumangel @parkersroses @realmofclouds @reisdoll and any others who want to join!!
⎯⎯⎯ tag 🏷️; @xominji , @miellette , @boy2kz, @enlov3vampxo , @virtualfangs333 , @sunoovamp sorry if you have alrdy done this or got tagged ! (optional ofc)
ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑) ੈ Hehe, thank you for tagging me and letting me join this one! 💗 Honestly, I don't really have a single ult bias I love all of them. 😗 But I guess these are the ones who have a special place in my heart :)) come and join
૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა jimin ( bts ) wonwoo ( svt ) Minji ( nwjns ) Sunoo ( enha ) Sungho ( bnd ) Lia ( itzy ) jihyo ( twice ) karina ( aespa ) Jisoo ( bp ) many more
— (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ 🔖 @makeitworse @matzism @ptolemaeiia @envil @hoonguin @hoondrop @cherrywOn @cutehoons92 @hoonstrology @nikidikiy @dollhoonki @lac4ygal including you
A TALE OF FIVE DESTINED ENCOUNTERS of fated lovers who meet through different seasons of spring and the amazing love story that came from it.
PAIRING: idol!joshua x fem!reader
GENRE: Soulmate AU, Strangers to Childhood Friends to Strangers to Lovers, Tooth Rotting Fluff
AU: Spring AU/ Idol AU/ Soulmate AU
TOTAL WC: 11.9K
FIC WARNINGS: mentions of getting lost, parents leaving the child behind on accident (not descriptive), mentions of getting married, talks about the future, one tiny mention of a stalker (reader thinks that joshua is a stalker but he isn't), a mention of dying/death (reader thought joshua was dangerous but he isn't, he is a lover boy)
PLAYLIST: under the cherry blossoms
LIV'S NOTES...
hello! sorry that i disappeared for so long! i am slowly (but surely) making my return very very soon! but this is a fic for @dorereef Spring Collaboration! thank you to our lovely admins for hosting this collab and if you haven't already, please be sure to check out all the other works under this collaboration! (which i will be doing and reblogging as well when my school is out this week!)
special thank you to @jakedustry for beta-reading this like the champ she is. for my loves @orbitondgtl @cherrymayz @dollhoonki @jaylaxies @filmsbyun @gyuzies @saccharinezennie for sprinting with me and spurring me on to complete this fic! this fic would not have been possible without the many of you <3
without further ado! let's get onto lover boy joshua!!
(ps: this fic is completely separate from written in the stars! i just love soulmate aus x idolverse aus lol!)
Check out the other Spring Fics -> The Reef In Bloom
MAIN MASTERLIST | NAVI
THE CHILDHOOD PROMISE
Joshua would say that a part of him always felt like something was missing.
At the age of eight, he remembers traveling to Seoul for the first time with his mother. It was a spontaneous trip, something that his mother had decided just a week before. However, Joshua was young and going anywhere felt like a new journey.
As he held onto his mother's hand, he remembers his eyes widening at the sight of all the cherry blossoms in the park and pointing them out to his mother.
"Mum! Look!" He said, glancing upwards towards his mother. "There's so many of them!"
His mother laughed as Joshua tugged her towards the trees, eager to get a closer look. A breeze swept through the park, making the cherry blossoms sway as a couple of loose ones fell around the two of them.
Joshua pulled his hand away from his mothers as he began jumping up and down, trying to catch a few, intrigued by how pretty the blossoms looked. His mother watched, her smile widening more if possible as she felt her heart swell at how cute her son looked at this moment. His tiny bunny hops increasing by the minute as he kept reaching for a singular cherry blossom to land in his hand.
Her hand covered her mouth as she tried her best not to giggle at Joshua's little disappointed grunts, each time the cherry blossom floating past his hand. She wondered how long it will take for him to give up on his quest and pick one up from the ground instead. However, she knew her son well enough to know that Joshua was never one to let adversity get him down, that he was stubborn enough to continue until he got his way.
A trait that he no doubt picked up from her.
Joshua, oblivious to his mother's stares, stopped his jumps, trying to figure out how to complete his mission. He gazed at the falling blossoms before his eyes locked onto two that were coming right towards him. He narrowed his eyes and bent his knees before he jumped as high as he could, his hands reaching out as high as he could, feeling as if they were going to rip out of their sockets before clenching his fists so hard, he knew his hands were going to turn red.
Joshua's mother watched as her son missed his footing and landed on his bum with a hard thump, making her eyes widen as she raced over to him.
"Joshua?!" His mother exclaimed as she reached his side and crouched down beside him. Her eyes darted from his face to his bum and legs as she assessed him for any injuries. "Are you alright?!"
Joshua, however, didn't hear any of his mother's questions and just peered at his hand. His heart pulsed hard in anticipation as he slowly opens both his hands, feeling something in both of them.
His eyes widen, lighting up as he feels the silky smooth petals in both his palm as his endorphins skyrocket.
He whipped his head up to meet his mother's eyes, giving her a slight shock at the big grin on his face.
He eagerly shoved his hands in-front of her eyes, making his mother's head tilt backwards as she peered at the light pink petal in one of his hands and two white ones in the other.
"I got them!" Joshua said giddily, his hands animatedly swaying a little from the excitement that was rushing through his veins. "I actually got them!"
His mother's face changed to one of relief and amusement, feeling the worry seep away from her veins from her little boy's bright grin as he showcased the flowers in his hands. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she helped Joshua stand up, dusting off his pants as he did.
"Be more careful next time." Joshua heard his mother mutter as she gave him one last look. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
Joshua furrowed his eyebrows at her words, a frown on his lips as he felt a little bit of guilt seep into his veins. "I'm sorry." He softly said, his doe eyes shimmering which makes his mother sigh as she shook her head.
"It's alright, sweetheart." She said, brushing his hair softly.
"I just wanted to catch one to give to you because it was pretty." Joshua muttered, his eyes flitting down to his shoes for a split second as he lifted the hand with the pink petal in it, stretching it towards his mother.
Her heart warmed at the sight as she watched Joshua gnaw on his bottom lip nervously. She reached out and took the cherry blossom in between her fingers, a small smile appearing on her face as she did so.
"You're such a sweet boy, Joshua." She softly stated, her eyes pricking a little with tears as she watched Joshua peer upwards at her.
"Really?" He asked softly, his doe eyes melting his mother more which made her nod, her smile getting bigger by the second.
"Really." She placed her hands on her knees as she stood up, stretching a little as she does. She spotted an ice cream cart not too far from them, giving her an idea. "And since you're so sweet," She peered downwards to her son. "I think you deserve a sweet treat. Don't you agree?"
Joshua's eyes widened at her words, spotting what his mother was talking about as he nodded excitedly. Joshua's mother lets out a laugh at how excited he was.
"How about you sit down underneath the cherry blossom tree and wait for me?" His mother suggested sweetly as she gestured towards the tree that was not too far away from where they were standing. "I'll be back in ten minutes."
Joshua nodded frivolously at his mother's words before he sprinted towards the tree and plopped himself onto the ground, eager to please his mother as he excitedly waited for his sweet treat.
He brings up his right hand that held the two white petals that he caught before, pride blooming in his chest as he felt the texture in between his fingers. He smiled, feeling the smoothness of the petals as he peered up to take in what the world had to offer.
The birds were chirping, the petals were gracefully falling and he felt as though he was on top of the world. Nothing was going to break the serene, peaceful environment that he was in.
"MUMMY? DADDY?"
Except for that.
Joshua jumped, hearing the yells as he whipped his head around to the source with his eyebrows furrowed.
Who was doing all that god-awful yelling?
That was when he noticed you.
You looked around his age, maybe a year or two younger than he was, in a fluffy polka-dotted skirt with a pink unicorn top as well as… bunny ears?
Joshua frowned at the weird get-up, not knowing why you were doing all this yelling before he noticed that you were crying. The realization made him frown even more as he analyzed you. Why were you crying?
He watched you clutch the bunny that you had in your hands, tighter to your chest as you sniffled and looked around anxiously.
Joshua's eyebrows furrowed even more as his emotions wrestled internally at the sight. Should be go up and talk to you?
His answer came to him as he heard you let out another watery yell, this one more distressed than the last which pushed away all thought of going back to pretending as if he didn't see you. Because that's not how his mother had raised him to be.
He stood up, dusted off his pants just like his mother did a few minutes ago before he walked over to you, concern etched onto his face with a frown to tie it all together.
You, on the other hand, were trapped in your own world. You didn't know how you had gotten here. One moment, you were holding hands with your mother and your father, admiring all the cherry blossom trees, the next, you were all alone. You did get slightly distracted by something that looked an awful lot like a bunny and left them but you were smart! You retraced your steps as your parents had taught you but when you had reached the cherry blossom tree that they were at, they weren't there.
Panic had started coursing through your veins at the thought of being left behind, making tears prick your eyes as you called out for them. You were tired, hungry, and just wanted to go home at this point. You rubbed away a few stray tears, ready to give up when a voice broke all your thoughts.
"Are you alright?"
You jumped at the sudden voice, whipping around to see a boy with the prettiest doe eyes that you've ever seen, dressed in a comfortable woolly jacket that was a little too big for him, denim jeans as well as some really cute sneakers. You looked at his face and how concerned he looked before shaking your head in response.
"No." You sniffled out. "I can't find my parents."
Joshua's eyes widened in response as he started to whip his head in every direction, trying to see if there were any distressed parents who were looking for you, as you had just been looking for them.
"Where did you last see them?" He asked softly.
"Under this tree." You admitted, hugging your bunny impossibly tighter to your chest as you tried to soothe your nerves. "I was bad... I saw this bunny and ran off when they weren't looking so it's all my fault."
Joshua frowned more at the admittance as he stepped closer to you before bringing you into a hug, just like his mother had taught him to do whenever he saw someone that was upset. He felt you soak his woolly sweater a little with your tears but he didn't care at that point. All he saw was this sad and scared little girl who needed a hug.
He pulled away, making you peer up at him with your boba shaped eyes.
"I am sure they are looking for you!" Joshua reassured before gesturing over to the tree. "Do you want to wait with me? My mom will be back soon with ice cream!"
Your eyes widened at that, "Ice cream?" You asked, hope in your tone which made the boy nod eagerly before taking your free hand into his and flashed you a gigantic, handsome grin.
"Let's go!"
He tugged you back to his spot under the tree as he plopped back down onto the ground before he pat the empty space next to him, a gesture that he wanted you to take a seat as well. You sit, placing your stuffed bunny on your lap, fidgeting slightly with the ears when Joshua spoke up again.
"My name is Joshua and I am eight years old this year!" He introduced, the smile on his face never fading as he held up eight fingers for you to see, just to solidify his point. You repeated his name making Joshua's smile grow even wider as he nodded at your pronunciation. "What's yours?"
You chewed on your bottom lip before softly telling him your name and that you're six years old this year. He repeated it, just like you had done before with his.
"That's a really cool name!" He admitted making your cheeks flush a little at tho boy in-front of you, who seemed so excited at just any words that leave your mouth.
"Thank you." You responded shyly, your hands still fidgeting with the bunny ears. Joshua buzzed a little with excitement at the fact that he had made a new friend, his mother would be so proud of him!
"We're friends now!" He said, nodding with a big smile on his face as your heart soars at the thought of making a new friends, your nerves slowly melting away.
Joshua gave you a once over before pointing to your bunny. "Does your bunny have a name?"
You glanced downwards to the stuffed toy in your hands before looking back up at him and nodding. "Her name is Penny." Joshua smiled at you as you outstretched your arms out to him with Penny in them, letting him have a better look at your support toy. "My mummy got him for me when she went to America last week!"
Joshua's eyes widened, "Wait really?!" He asked, excitedly scooting closer to you. You nod, a little confused by his outburst.
"I'm from America! My mummy and I are here on holiday!" He watches as your eyes widen at his words, your jaw dropping open.
"That's so cool!" You managed to get out, making the boy nod along with your words. He watched you fidget with the bunny ears once more before pointing upwards at the trees.
"Do you like the pretty trees?" Joshua asked as he peered upwards to see more cherry blossoms failing over the top of your heads as another gust of wind blew past.
You eyes lit up a little at the question as you nodded. "My mummy said that they're called cherry blossoms." You stated, peering upwards as well to look at the pretty blossoms that were cascading downwards. "She also said that there are over two hundred different ones!"
Joshua's eyes widened at your fun fact as his jaw dropped open slightly. "Two hundred??" It was a lot for his little eight-year old brain to comprehend. "That's more than the numbers that we learn in class!"
You let out a giggle, caught off-guard at the exclamation which made Joshua's heart soar more. He made you laugh! He was pleased with himself, he was doing everything that his mother had taught him about being a good gentleman.
Joshua continues on his tangent, distracting you as you shared more fun facts about the spring season with him. You giggling every once in a while which spurred Joshua on more. Your nerves and panic slowly seeped away from your veins as you continued to talk to Joshua, getting more and more interested about the boy in-front of you.
"Do you live here in Seoul?" Joshua asked, making you nod.
"I live pretty close to the park." You softly admitted, looking up to scan at the different buildings before pointing in a direction. "Over that way!"
Joshua's eyes widened at your admittance before his hand flew to yours to tug it back down. "You can't tell people where you live!"
Your eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not telling people… I'm telling you."
Joshua shook his head at your words. "But what if I'm a total stranger! You shouldn't be going around telling people that."
"But aren't we friends?" You asked softly, tilting your head to the side and making Joshua's heart jump a little. He internally frowned at that motion, unsure of why his heart was acting this way but he pushed it away in-order to correct you.
"We are!" He corrected, raising his hands in surrender, scared that you were about to cry once again. "But you shouldn't tell people that."
Your eyebrows furrowed even more, opening your mouth as you were about to retort when a woman's voice interrupts you.
"Shua, here's your ice— oh!" The two of you turned towards the sound of the voice, seeing Joshua's mother stood there with two cups of ice-cream in her hand. "Who is this?"
Joshua smiled before gesturing towards you proudly. "My new friend!" He admitted making you nod shyly as he tells his mother your name.
His mother looked between the two of you before giving you a smile. "Nice to meet you!" She said softly as she passed Joshua his ice-cream. "Where are your parents, sweetheart?"
Joshua watched as your smile dropped before going back to fidgeting with the bunny ears before he turned to his mother. "She lost her parents a little while ago." He admitted softly, glancing at you as he said it, hoping that it wouldn't set you off crying again.
His mother's expression changed to one of understanding. "Ah… I see." She turned to you, crouching down to your height, her eyes filled with empathy as she analyzed you. "Do you know their phone number by any chance, sweetheart? Anything that we could use to call them?"
You thought for a moment before nodding your head. "I know my daddy's number." You softly admitted which made Joshua's mother's eyes light up.
"Wow! You're such a smart girl." She cooed, patting your head as she took a quick glance at Joshua. "I've been trying to get Shua to remember my number for over a year now and he still forgets."
"Mom!" Joshua whined, making you giggle as his mother shoot you a wink and handed you her phone for you to put your father's number into before she turned to her son.
"But it's the truth!"
Joshua pouted at his mother's words but it cracked slightly as he watched you giggle, feeling his heart warm at the sight of your toothy smile.
He glanced down towards the cup of chocolate ice-cream in his hands before outstretching it out to you. "Would you like to share?"
He watched you blink in surprise. "You want to share with me?"
Joshua nodded eagerly at your question. "Of course! We're friends now." He said, scooting a little closer to you. "Being friends means that we share everything! Including ice-cream." He glanced up at his mother. "Isn't that right, mum?"
His mother felt pride bloom in her chest at her son's words and actions before she nodded. "That's right, sweetheart."
Joshua smiled at his mother's answer before placing the cup of ice-cream between the two of you and offered you the first bite. You shyly take the spoon from him before you scooped up a small bit of the ice-cream and placed it into your mouth.
Your eyes widen at the burst of sweet flavours coating your tongue as Joshua let out a giggle as he watched you take more of the ice-cream before playfully telling you that you needed to share.
His mother's heart warmed at the sight of the two of you sharing that singular cup of chocolate ice-cream. She felt her lips tick upwards, a small smile gracing her face before she dialed the number on her phone.
Not more than twenty minutes later, your parents arrived, their faces etched with relief at the sight of you happily playing with a boy who looked slightly older than you were.
"Bunny!" The childhood nickname and voice made you perk up as you turned to see your parents race towards you. You jumped up, your heart beating fast as you met them halfway and jumped into your mother's warm embrace.
Your mother cried a little as she patted your head, smoothing out your hair as your father went up to Joshua's mother, shaking her hand and rapidly thanking her for taking such good care of their daughter.
Joshua felt himself internally wrestle with the feelings in his chest. He was happy that your parents were here to get you and you looked so relived that they did, but he wasn't sure if he was ever going to see you again. Him and his mother were leaving back to LA in a few days and they had a lot of plans.
A slight tug at his sweater brought him out of his thoughts as he noticed you were standing right in-front of him, your head tilted to the side as you gave him a quizzical look.
"Are you okay?" You asked, your voice soft and sweet which brought a smile to Joshua's face as he nodded, obscuring his sad emotions and thoughts from you.
"Of course!" He hummed out, glancing behind you to see your parents and his mother talking. "I'm glad your parents are here."
You nodded, a small smile on your face as silence enveloped the two of you.
"Will I ever see you again?" You asked him softly, your eyes locked with his as they shimmered with a pretty sparkle sheen. Joshua felt his heart sink at the question, knowing that he had just wondered that a few minutes ago before you brought him out from his thoughts.
"I'm not sure…" Joshua answered honestly, making you nod, a little sadly, a small pout forming on your lips. Joshua gave you a once over as your eyes stayed locked on your shoes, obviously a little sad that you had to go and you might never see the doe-eyed boy again when he got an idea.
He fished around his sweater pockets and pulled out the two white cherry blossoms that he had caught earlier in the day.
"Here." He said softly, outstretching one of the petals towards you. Your eyes widened as you glanced upwards at the taller boy. "Something to remember me by." You shakily take the petal from Joshua, running your fingers across the petals gently as Joshua held up his own.
"See, now we're matching." Joshua told you, a small on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. You continue to stare at the petal, stoning a little which made Joshua a little nervous. "Don't tell me you're going to miss me already?" Joshua joked, trying to lighten the mood as his nerves spiked from how you weren't looking at him.
He wanted to add on another light jab to lighten the mood when you surprised him by wrapping your arms around him, nearly tackling him to the ground. He let out a grunt as you hit his chest with a hard thud, almost knocking the air out his chest as he stabilized the two of you.
Joshua slowly wrapped his arms around you, feeling the sad emotions that he tried to push away, overwhelm him a little more as he felt your warmth envelope him.
"I'm going to miss you." He heard you mutter out, slightly muffled as you bury your head deeper into his woolly sweater. He sighed, burying his face into your hair.
"I'll miss you too, Bunny." He whispered out, using the nickname that he heard your mother call you by. It was really apt for you, with how soft spoken you were, how you quietly observed everything around you. Joshua couldn't help but feel that the nickname was just meant for you. That the word was designed just for you.
"Tell you what." Joshua started softly, pulling away from you a little to see your face. "For as long as you keep that petal." He gestured to the white cherry blossom in your hand. "I will always find you."
Your eyes widened at his words before you pulled away completely, lifting your hand up to the boy, with your pinky being the only finger out, waiting for the boy to give you a pinky promise.
"Swear on it!" Joshua couldn't help but laugh at the sight of you and how serious you were taking this, but, he lifted his own hand and joined his pinky with yours.
The childhood promise sealed between a six year old girl with the nickname Bunny and an eight year old boy who had eyes like Bambi.
"Can I call you Bambi?" You wondered aloud which made Joshua blink at you before he let out a soft laugh as he nodded. "Sure, Bunny."
The two of you let out a fit of giggles before your mother called for you, gesturing that you needed to go. You looked between her and your father before looking at the boy in-front of you, not wanting to leave so soon.
Joshua, however, sensed the hesitation in your figure. He didn't want you to leave yet either but it was getting late and he knew that your parents wanted to get you home and safe and make it up to you so he gave you a reassuring smile.
"You should go." He said softly, giving your head a small pat. "I'm sure your parents are taking you out to eat something really nice."
He watched you chew on your bottom lip before you nod and squeezed Joshua in one last hug before you step away from the boy.
"See you soon, Bambi."
Joshua's heart warmed at the nickname. "See you soon, Bunny."
You gave him one last glance over before you ran over to where your parents stood, taking your mother's hand into yours as Joshua's mother walked back over to his side.
You and your parents started to walk away, towards the pathway where the small stream and bridge were. Joshua felt his mother grab his hand and laced their fingers together but his focus remained on you and where you were.
He watched you take one last pause as you turned to look at him as you gave him one last wave which he returned, the smile on his face turning into a sadder one. With that, he watched you turn back around and exit the park with your parents, going the way that you had pointed out earlier when he had asked where you lived.
His heart felt heavy and he didn't know why. The two of you had just met. However, something told the eight year old boy that he would see you soon. He didn't know when or how but he had hope that he would. He had to.
"Ready to go?" His mother asked, the question gently coaxing the boy out of his thoughts. Joshua nodded, giving his mother a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Yeah." He softly admitted, letting himself take one last glance towards where you had been just moments ago. "Let's go."
Joshua felt around in his pocket as he gently caressed the white blossom in it as he and his mother exit the park. His wrist felt warm for some reason, but decided to attribute it to the sweater and moved on to wonder about something happier, like what he and his mother were going to have for dinner.
Unbeknownst to him, a few months later, he would find a small mark on his wrist that looked oddly like the white cherry blossom that he had given the little girl to make sure that she would always remember him.
What a twist of fate.
THE THING ABOUT SECOND CHANCES
The next time Joshua arrived in Seoul, he was eighteen years old.
Fresh out of high school and having just been scouted by Pledis Entertainment. He anxiously rubbed the white cherry blossom mark on his wrist, a habit that he picked up after it had appeared.
He didn't remember when it had appeared or why it did but after having so many talks with his mother and the doctor or specialist that his mother had taken him to. He had a soulmate, someone with a similar mark on their wrist.
Joshua had grown up hearing about soulmates from his mother. It wasn't uncommon to have a soulmate but only about fifty percent of the world had one. Joshua didn't know if it was luck or not to be one of the few to have one because he didn't even know who it was. He had a feeling he knew but he didn't know if he would ever see you again.
You plague his thoughts every once in a while. He isn't even sure if you remember him but he remembers you. The soft spoken girl from under the cherry blossom trees that he had given the white cherry blossom to. It had to be you and he had asked his mother to try and reach out to your father, the number having been dialed in her phone before but it seemed that when she did, your father had changed his number.
So he had lost all hope of ever getting into contact with you again. Until the Pledis global auditions came and now, he was actually in Korea.
He had been here for a few months, training tirelessly with the rest of his members and learning more Korean at the same time. It definitely wasn't as good compared to when he was younger but he felt himself getting better by the day with the help of Vernon and the other members who volunteered to teach him sometimes, in exchange for learning some english.
Safe to say, he might be doing better at learning Korean than the rest of his members who wanted to learn English. He chuckled a little at the memory as he prepared to go out for the day.
It was one of the rare few days off that the company had given them, having passed all the auditions to get into Seventeen and actually make the line-up. The company decided to give the day off before they needed to return to prepare even more tirelessly for their debut.
He fidgeted with the bracelet that his mother had given him, made out of white cherry blossom that he had caught that faithful day almost ten years ago.
"What are your plans for today?" Joshua turned, seeing Seungcheol leaning against the doorframe to his shared room with Seokmin and Seungkwan.
Joshua took a quick glance towards his wrist before his eyes flitted back up to meet Seungcheol's. "Thought about going to see the cherry blossoms today." Joshua answered coolly, a small smile on his face.
Seungcheol's eyes flit downwards to Joshua's wrist for a split second before he nodded towards it. "Hoping to see her again?"
Seungcheol and Jeonghan were the only two to know about Joshua's mysterious mark. Joshua hadn't meant for any of the members to find out, but he had been careless, and the makeup that he had put on the wrist had gotten wet by accident. He shouldn't have chosen to not use a waterproof concealer that day. It resulted in not only the general leader seeing the mark that stained his skin, but Joshua's evil twin as well.
Seungcheol and Jeonghan had pulled Joshua right after that to reapply the makeup, careful to not let the staff see them or the cherry blossom. Seungcheol shot the two of them a look which stated that they would talk about this later. Hence, Joshua instead told the both of them everything right after practice, in the safe space of Seungcheol and Jeonghan's dorm room that they shared with Mingyu and Jihoon.
The two of them had been understanding (to Joshua's delight) and also a little annoying about it (to Joshua's dismay). Jeonghan had taken the opportunity to do a small little jab every time one of the other members brought up even the idea of having a soulmate to the others.
Seungcheol would shoot a warning look towards Jeonghan the first few times it happened, but after many unsuccessful tries of getting Jeonghan to quit it, he decided to join him instead.
If you can't beat them, join them.
Joshua spared another glance towards his wrist. "Yeah." He answered truthfully. "It's been ten years but… I'm still holding out hope that I will."
Seungcheol was quiet at that, an unreadable expression on his face before he sighed. "Just… be careful." He sounds out, the double meaning of the sentence not lost on the younger man.
"I will." Joshua assured which makes Seungcheol look over him once more before nodding and leaving the room.
"Remember to bring an umbrella." Seungcheol called out from the hallway. "The forecast said that it's going to rain."
Joshua's eyebrows furrowed at his words, turning his head to look out at the bright clear sky that showed no signs of rain at all. Joshua let out a sigh as he shook his head. Seungcheol has definitely been spending too much time around Jeonghan. Hell, Jeonghan probably put him up to this to see if Joshua would actually bring an umbrella out because he knew better than to trust Jeonghan after the raincoat incident.
Joshua glanced at the umbrella at his desk before shaking his head at it and shouldering the sling bag that he had packed his camera into and wearing the bracelet that his mother made for him.
He stepped out of the dormitories, the sun greeting him with it's warm glow making him take a deep inhale of the spring air, feeling himself get more refreshed by the second. He smiled to himself as he started heading towards the park.
On a beautiful day like this… what could go wrong?
The answer was everything.
Absolutely everything.
The minute Joshua had arrived at the faithful park, the sky had dimmed and the beautiful morning that he had seen was immediately replaced with the darkest clouds the world has ever seen.
As soon as he stepped off the bus, it had started to drizzle and then it started to pour making Joshua realize that Seungcheol had been right. It was forecasted to rain today.
And when it rains, it certainly pours.
Which is how Joshua ended up here, underneath the faithful tree that had brought the two of you together that day and under the pouring rain. Spring rain was definitely a sight to see. It was his first time experiencing spring after he had moved to Korea but it was his second time overall. The first being ten years ago which was where he had discovered that he loved rain in the first place.
Joshua let out a sigh as he inhaled the smell of the rain, instantly feeling more relaxed than he did a few moments before. He really loved the rain. It was refreshing and walking in the rain was definitely an experience that makes him feel at peace.
His members called him crazy for that but there was just something about the rain that brought out the tranquility of his soul. It reminded him a lot of home and spring rain was definitely the best kind of rain that anyone can experience because April Showers had definitely become a favourite of his.
He felt the urge to go back out into the rain and just let it cascade down his body and hair when he was interrupted by the sounds of squeaky sneakers coming from behind him. He peered around the tree and noticed a girl, slightly younger than he was, dressed in a pink raincoat that had cherry blossom sketches around it and… bunny ears?
His eyebrows furrowed at the unique combination as he heard the girl huff out a breath.
"Stupid spring rain…" He heard the girl mutter as she ruffled her raincoat, trying to get the excess water off. "I normally really love you but I didn't want it to rain today…"
Joshua didn't know whether to be scared of the girl who was talking to herself but she looked like she was having a bad day. "Are you alright?"
The girl jumped at his sudden question, shocking her and himself as she places a hand over her heart.
"Geez, dude!" The girl yelled out. "Where did you come from?!"
Joshua blinked at the girl. "Erm." He looked around the two of them. "I was actually here first."
The girl blinked at him before giving him a deadpanned look. "Whatever, dude." She muttered out as she crouched down to play with the grass. "Stupid rain."
Joshua stared at the girl for a few more seconds. "Do you hate the rain or something?"
The girl scoffed at his words before shaking her head. "Not that it's any of your business." She began, poking around the grass still. "I actually really love the rain."
"Then why—"
"Because it's the start of the blossoms today." She softly admitted, picking up one of the semi-muddy cherry blossoms that had dropped off the tree because of the rain. "My mother really loves them and I wanted to take a few pictures of them to frame as a surprise for her birthday next week and today is the only free day that I have open."
Joshua took a few moments to digest the words coming out of the girl's mouth and let out a sound of understanding. "That's sweet." He said, making the girl let out a hum.
"Well, but the plan is ruined now…" She muttered out, losing more and more interest in the grass as the seconds whizz by. "I guess I won't be getting her a present this year."
Joshua frowned at the girls words, feeling slightly empathetic for the girl before his mother's teachings kicked into his being. He peered upwards at the sky, seeing it begin to clear slightly before turning back to the girl in distress.
"Does your mother like the spring rain too?" He found himself asking making the girl whip around, a frown etched onto her face as she tilted her head to the side in confusion.
"Yes." She frowned even more. "But I don't see how that would—"
"Give me your camera." Joshua finds himself saying, making the girl stare at him, slightly stunned.
"I'm sorry?" She asked, wondering if she had heard the boy wrong.
Joshua pointed at the camera in the girl's backpack. "What if we use your camera to frame you, the cherry blossoms and the ending of the spring rain in one picture?" He gestured to the clouds above as the rain starts to slow down. "The spring shower is ending soon and I think it will create the perfect opportunity for me to help you snap a photo because of the effect that the April shower will create."
He watched as the girl digested his words and the cogs turned in her brain before her eyes widened.
"You're a genius stranger!"
Joshua couldn't help but laugh at the nickname the girl gave him as they scrambled to get the shot set up.
By the time that the rain had almost totally slowed down, they were ready, with the girl's camera in Joshua's hands and the girl standing a little uncomfortably in the shot.
"Are you sure, she would want me to be in the photo?" The girl found herself asking the stranger in-front of her. "She might just want the April shower and cherry blossoms you know?"
Joshua shook his head stubbornly and surely. "I can assure you, this is the best present for her."
The girl shot him a skeptical look before begrudgingly accepting her fate and posed in-front of the cherry blossom tree with her pink bunny raincoat.
Joshua snapped a few shots here and there, giving her a bit of direction every now and then as he felt his synapses in his brain fire around it. The more that he looked at this girl, the more she looked kind of familiar to him.
He tried brushing that thought aside, thinking that he was crazy as he took one last final photo for the girl as the sky began to clear and the rain drizzled to the a stop.
"And…" Joshua trailed off, looking at the last photo that he took, a satisfied smile on his face. "We're done!"
The girl rushed over to Joshua's side, eager to see the photos that the boy had just taken. As she clicked through them, her eyes widened as they flitted between the camera screen and the boy standing next to her.
"Woah." She softly stated as she continued to flip through the photos. "These are really good." She turned to Joshua, a toothy grin on her face. "Thank you so much."
Joshua gave her a grin back as he shook his head. "Small thing." He said as he gestured to the photos. "You did all the hard work by modeling for it!"
The girl lets out a laugh as the sun peeked through the clouds that were still in the sky. She peered downwards at the watch that was on her wrist before letting out a heavy sigh.
"Well, I need to get going." She said, shutting her camera down and putting it into her backpack. "Thank you so much for helping me with this."
Joshua waved her off. "It was my pleasure."
"Is there anything that I can do to repay you?"
Joshua pondered for a moment before his mind went back to you which made him glance at the cherry blossom tree.
"Know any fun facts about cherry blossom trees?"
The girls eyebrows raised in response. "That's a weird question." She stated, giving him a weird side-eye. Joshua shrugged in response.
"I just like fun facts."
The girl stared at him for a few seconds before she opened her mouth and said, "Did you know that the the biggest cherry blossom capital in the world is actually in Macon, Georgia, which holds over three hundred thousand cherry trees?"
Joshua's eyes widened at her response. "Wait that's so interesting."
The girl gave him a satisfied smile, "My mother is a big cherry blossom nerd." She said, picking up her backpack. "She shares a lot of different fun-facts with me and also made me this."
She pulled out a pendant from inside her clothing that was tied to a necklace. Joshua gazed closer at the pendant as his eyes widened bigger.
"Is that a white cherry blossom infused into the resin and made into a pendant?"
The girl nodded proudly. "Yep!"
"That's insane." Joshua commended, taking a step away from the girl. "I really commend your mother."
"Yeah." The girl let out a satisfied hum. "She is pretty cool." The girl smiled at the fond memory of her mother giving her the necklace. "She made this necklace for me because some boy gave me this cherry blossom many years ago when they thought that I went missing or something."
Joshua felt his whole being freeze when she said that and blinked at the girl in-front of him who was fidgeting with the pendant around her neck.
"What?" He heard himself whisper aloud making the girl nod.
"Yeah, he was really sweet and nice and he apparently shared an ice cream with me." The girl took another glance at her watch before her eyes widened, becoming as big as saucers.
"Holy shit!" She yelled out as she slung her backpack across her shoulders. "I'm late!"
Joshua found himself panicking slightly. "Wait—" He said, trying to get your attention.
You, however, gave him one last smile before waving goodbye to him. "Thank you again for your help!"
Joshua felt the words on the tip of hid tongue, die in his throat as he watched you run away from him like your life dependent on it, making him sigh.
He huffed, running a hand through his semi-wet locks before his phone rang.
"Hello?" He answered, sighing as he heard Seungcheol's voice over the phone. "Yeah." He said, his gaze still fixed on the spot where you once were. "I'm on my way back. I'll see you and the rest in thirty."
Seungcheol let out a hum of understanding before he hung up the phone, leaving Joshua to his own thoughts as he went on auto-pilot and picked up his sling bag as he felt frustration course through his veins.
So much for second chances.
THIRD TIMES THE CHARM
On the spring of Joshua's twenty second birthday, he finds himself back underneath the faithful cherry blossom tree. The only difference is that it is eleven at night. He had just finished a team dinner with the rest of the group, celebrating a big win that they just had with the release of one of their newest albums. All that hard work and tireless preparations had paid off and they were now celebrating the fruits of their labour.
Seungcheol and Jeonghan were by Joshua's side when they had exited the restaurant but for some reason, Joshua felt a little bit restless, like something was tugging on his soul that he shouldn't go home just yet.
With that, Joshua bid the two older men goodbye and headed off to his safe space, a space that the members had coined as the soulmate spot after Joshua finally gained the courage to tell his members about his soulmate and the cherry blossom story that came with it.
Joshua leans against the tree that is still flourishing even though it was coming to the end of spring. The petals still had that sheen that told the story of the start of spring till nearly the end as they were going into fall, the week after next.
He sighs, feeling the restlessness start to seep away from his bones. Just being in this spot was comforting for him because he felt connected to you. After you had taken off that day four years ago, Joshua hadn't seen you since.
Not for the lack of trying as well.
Joshua had just gotten so wrapped up in the life of being an idol that he was traveling more often, spent a lot less time in Korea and he felt that each practice was more intense than the last.
He still tried to stick to his outstanding bi-weekly date that he had with the cherry blossom tree but with all the new promotions and practices that seemed to be popping up from left, right and center, he had definitely missed a few during the last four springs.
However, looking at how serene the park looked at night with the crackling streetlamps as well as the fairy lights that are no doubt a new addition, Joshua feels at peace at the fact that nothing else has changed about his favourite safe spot.
He had quite a few of them… one being a corner of the practice room where he always sat during the breaks with his earbuds in. Another being a corner in Jihoon's office that he uses whenever the world got too overwhelming (and that Jihoon let's him use by just pretending that he isn't there) and the last but definitely not the least, was the cherry blossom tree.
He closes his eyes, just taking in the ambience of the park and listening to the crickets chirping, the static flickering of the streetlamps and fairy lights and allowed himself to breathe.
He wasn't Joshua Hong, one of the two American members of Seventeen.
He was just, Joshua.
"Is this spot taken?" He hears someone softly ask from in-front of him. Joshua opens both his eyes to see a girl about his age, a hood obscuring most of her face as she leaned down slightly, no doubt to ask him the question.
Joshua panicked for a moment, wondering if the girl had noticed who he was but then remembered that he was wearing a baseball cap as well as a mask, concealing about sixty percent of his face.
He internally let out a breath of relief before shaking his head no as he gestures to the spot next to him. "You can sit if you like." Joshua states, not really sure of the words flowing out of his mouth at the moment.
On any other day, Joshua would've probably not offered the space next to him to a total stranger that he has never seen or met before. However, today had been a long day and his walls were all the way down after a long day of practice than the award show and then the team dinner.
If he wasn't feeling restless, he would've probably called it quits and been back at the dorm, in his comfy bed.
The stranger mutters out a small 'thank you' before plopping down next to him. The sound of the rustling plastic bag catches Joshua's attention, having not noticed the convenience store bag that the girl had in her right hand.
Joshua's eyes flit downwards to where his phone lied on his lap and did a quick click of the side button to see that it was 11:30pm. His eyebrows furrow as he looks back at the girl who takes out an aluminum wrapped roll of kimbap.
"Is that your dinner?" Joshua found himself asking, shocking himself and the stranger who gives Joshua a sideways glance before nodding her head. "Why are you eating so late?"
"You always ask this many questions to a stranger you don't know?" The girl replies after swallowing her first slice of the kimbap.
Joshua, a little taken aback by her question, lets out a low and tired chuckle as he shakes his head. "No." He answers honestly, "I was just wondering why a girl is wandering around at 11:30pm and eating a roll of kimbap underneath a cherry blossom tree with a stranger."
"Because this is my safe space." The girl admits nonchalantly, without a second thought as she eats another slice of her kimbap.
Joshua blinks a few times at the girl's answer. "Weird." He states. "This is my safe space too." He finds himself admitting, unsure why he is telling a random stranger. But it had been a long day and Joshua's guard is down.
At his words, the girl stops eating and turns her head towards him for a few seconds, analyzing him. "You always this trusting to strangers?"
Joshua scoffs, "You admitted that in a heartbeat as well, mind you."
The girl just shrugs and continues to munch on her kimbap as the wind breezes past them, making a few of the loose cherry blossom petals fall.
Joshua watches them slowly drift down, smiling a little to himself as it brings back memories of his first spring in Seoul.
"Did you know that there are over two hundred varieties of cherry blossom trees?" Joshua hears the girl mutter out making his eyebrows furrow, his brain synapses firing.
Has he heard this before?
"I did know that actually." Joshua admits, making his company let out a hum of acknowledgement. "Did you know that the cherry blossoms and their tea leaves are actually edible?"
He watches the girl nod, pulling down more of the aluminum foil to unwrap the last three slices of her kimbap. "They're used in like Japanese sweets, teas as well as desserts right?"
Joshua nods, closing his eyes. "My favourite is the sakura mochi."
There was silence for a few moments before the girl replied with a, "No way, that's mine as well."
Joshua hums. "You have good taste."
Joshua hears the girl beside him let out a laugh at his quip making his chest warm a little. The girls laugh reminded him of you in a way, the soft laugh that you had let slip past your lips four springs ago still etched in his mind.
"Did you also know that the the biggest cherry blossom capital in the world is actually in Macon, Georgia, which holds over three hundred thousand cherry trees?"
Joshua feels himself freeze at that statement. Now he had definitely heard that one before.
His eyes widen as he gets transported back to that faithful day under the rain where his soulmate had slipped through his fingers for the second time in his life.
You continue to yap on about fun facts that your mother had shared with you about cherry blossoms, unsure of why you were telling a random stranger this information, but it was a long day and this stranger felt… safe to you?
You couldn't explain why.
"Did you know that some varieties have more than five petals for their blossoms? Like the Kanzan can have up to twenty-eight petals per flower? That makes it look so much fuller with a pom-pom like appear—"
"Bunny?"
You pause your tangent upon hearing the childhood nickname that your mother still uses every now and then, feeling your blood run a little cold at the stranger saying it.
You whip your head towards the stranger who is now sitting fully up-right and facing you as your eyebrows furrow. "Why did you—"
The stranger doubles down and whispers out your name, making you freeze as you scoot back a little, fearful for your life now. The one time you choose to trust a stranger and it turns out that he might be a stalker?
How low is your social awareness that you didn't seem to realize that the man beside you might've been stalking you all this time? Were you about to die? How were you going to get out of this? What was the best exit—
Your spiral gets interrupted when the stranger removes his cap and mask, allowing you to see the bambi doe-eyes that you have been dreaming about for the last few springs. The warmth and comfort in them, still as persistent as you remember.
"Bambi?" You breathe out, the nickname that you gave him when you were six, rolling off your tongue easier than you thought it would. "Joshua, is that you?"
Joshua nods eagerly, seemingly frozen in place as he watches you take him in before you jump into him. He catches you easily, seemingly a little more prepared than the last time when he was eight years old as he buries his face into your hair, just like he did that day, fourteen years ago.
"I can't believe I found you again." He mutters out into your hair as he feels you let out a watery laugh into his sweater that he was wearing. He pulls away a little, noticing that your hair is a little ruffled from the hoodie being launched off after you had jumped into him. He feels you shiver a little and goes to pull the hoodie back up for you to protect your ears when he notices the bunny ears sewed onto the hood.
A wide grin appears on his lips as he internally shakes his head at the fact that he didn't notice them before, deeming it to the long day that he just had.
"I've only seen you on television." Is the first words to come out of your mouth after the whole affair, which makes Joshua giggle as he pulls away fully to look you in the eyes. "That's the first thing you say to me, your soulmate, after years of not seeing each other?"
You couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic outburst as you pull him back in for another hug, the necklace that you are wearing, the pendant hitting him in the chest, which makes a smile adorn his face at the memory of what the pendant is made out of.
The two of you stay like that for a few moments more before you pull away to get a good look at Joshua's face. You were telling the truth, you had only seen Joshua through YouTube videos and whenever the various Music Award Shows were on, always silently cheering him on.
You had recognized him after they had their first debut show on TV, the doe-eyes immediately speaking to you as he came onto stage. You had know that you were his soulmate, right after the mark had appeared on your arm ages ago.
Your parents also had a long talk with you about it but after your father's phone had gotten smashed during a really bad day of work, there was no way to contact him or his mother. So, you went the next ten years not knowing if Joshua had remembered you, the weirdly dressed girl with bunny ears and soft toy.
Until that april shower when you were sixteen, you didn't realize you were talking to him until you were twenty blocks away from the park, eager to get to your next tutoring teacher's class.
You had cursed yourself for being a little too oblivious but as you stared at the white mark on your wrist, you realized that the timing probably wasn't right just yet for the two of you and you just needed to wait for fate to push you both together once again.
That faithful day is today.
"No." You answer truthfully, shaking your head at Joshua's question. "I think our first order of business should be to get each other's numbers so that we don't have to wait for fate to bring us dumbasses back together for the fourth time."
Joshua lets out a laugh at your answer, nodding with a cheeky grin on his face. "They do say third time's the charm."
You roll your eyes at his cliche answer but deep down you silently agreed with it.
Maybe it truly is, third time's the charm.
THE GOING SEVENTEEN TWIST
"Ugh." You mutter out, messing with the bunny patterned mask on your face, getting a little frustrated with how hot it is underneath the mask. "I don't get why we need to keep wearing a mask if your company has booked out the entire park for your Going Seventeen episode."
Joshua lets out a chuckle at your frustrations as he rubs your forearm soothingly, a tactic that he picked up a few years ago when he realized that it was the fastest way to calm you down (other than food of course).
"Well," Joshua starts, adjusting his own mask and cap in the process. "We rented out the park but that doesn't mean the general public still won't recognize us because the area isn't covered."
You let out a huff, knowing that he is right.
"It also doesn't help that Hoshi yells like a maniac and gathers the attention of said general public." You mutter, making Joshua laugh at your whines.
He looks around before lowering his mask to give you a small kiss to the top of your head before pulling it back up, just as one of the managers calls for him.
He spares the manager a quick glance before his attention is back on you, to make sure that you are okay with him leaving.
"Go." You assure him, nudging him slightly in the direction where the manager is waiting for him. "I've been around these shoots long enough to know the procedure by now."
Joshua's eye lines crinkle, a sign that he is smiling as he nods.
You weren't wrong, you had been coming to the Going Seventeen shoots for almost the entirety of your relationship with Joshua. The two of you weren't really public but you two weren't private either.
Your relationship wasn't a secret and Joshua had brought you up a few times before, mentioning you here and there in some interviews that he has done with Vogue or Cosmopolitan.
You had also become a small little mention in the Going Seventeen videos where sometimes Joshua would let something small about you slip past his lips. It was a routine at this point and the fans had been using this to their advantage, creating many different videos such as; "A compilation of all the times Joshua has mentioned Bunny" or "Joshua being the biggest simp for his girlfriend/soulmate for 4 minutes and 48 seconds."
But, it was good.
The fans had accepted that the two of you are together and Joshua was more open with his soulmate mark and talking about you now to the point where he doesn't conceal the white cherry blossom mark on his wrist anymore.
Now he wears it with pride, just like the bracelet that ties the both of you together.
You fidget with your pendant, recalling all those memories with a smile. Thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together that day eight years ago.
"Right!" One of the directors call out, knocking you out of your thoughts as you move from yours and Joshua's cherry blossom tree, realizing that they are about to begin their filming.
Joshua appears beside you, moments later looking more dolled up and refreshed compared to half an hour ago making you grin as you notice his hair sticking up slightly.
Without a word, you step forward to him, his arms wrapping around your waist habitually as you fix your eyes on the cow-lick in his hair. You brush it down, not noticing the way that Joshua is watching you as you fixate on his hair, brushing it till it looks perfect for the shoot that they are doing today.
"What's the shoot for today?" You ask him, softly, fixing a few strands of stray hairs that the stylist didn't manage to get. Joshua let out a hum, his hands warm on your waist.
"We're filming something special." Joshua admits shyly. "That's why I asked you to get a little more dolled up than usual today."
He had told you that the night before. It was unusual for Joshua to be this quiet about the shoots that he and the rest of the members were meant to film. Joshua would at least tell you beforehand what the shoot was about and the premise of it but for this particular shoot, he had been quiet.
All the information you had was that you might have to appear once or twice as emotional support for your boyfriend. The rest of the members had also brought along their significant others or girlfriends as well and when you had asked them about what the shoot would be, they had side-eyed each other and shook their heads, seemingly not knowing what it was as well.
"You've been acting weird lately." You mutter out to your boyfriend, messing with one last stubborn strand of hair that was sticking upwards. You side-eyed your boyfriend, "You aren't doing a secret horror episode today are you? You can't do that in our safe space."
Joshua lets out a laugh at your imagination before shaking his head, a big toothy grin on his face. "I love your imagination sometimes, Bunny."
You raise an eyebrow at his words. "Yet," you start. "You did not deny it."
Joshua gives you a mischievous grin, that you have seen one too many times making you roll your eyes at how mysterious your boyfriend was being.
"I guess you just have to wait and see."
"Fine." You relent, finally get that strand of hair to get down. "Keep your secrets."
Joshua leans in closer to you, surprising you a little as you watch his eyes scan your face, from the top of your forehead, to the slope of your nose to your chewed lips that you had been gnawing on since you had arrived because you weren't sure what to expect today.
You feel your cheeks heat up from how intense his gaze is before he surprises you once more by leaning in and giving you a peck on the lips, a lovesick grin on his lips right after he does.
You blink at your boyfriend, unsure of how to react to the quick peck. The two of you had set boundaries beforehand about PDA and everything else that was related to the public.
Kissing or pecks were a gray zone in a sense where you could do it but only if the members, cameras as well as the rest of the world was not around.
However, Joshua broke that rule today by kissing you in the middle of the set where everyone can see.
"Did you just…" You trail off making Joshua nod, seemingly more relaxed than you are.
"Yeah."
"But—"
"I just wanted to." He nonchalantly admits, shrugging his shoulders as he does so. "You looked so cute focusing on me that I wanted to kiss you as soon as you were almost done fixing my hair."
"Your hair is done by the way." You admit, the words coming out of your mouth faster than you could have processed them, making Joshua bark out another laugh at how slow your brain was comprehending information.
"I love you." Joshua admits softly, after he was done laughing. Your heart warms at his words as you give a once over to the set before leaning in to give Joshua a peck.
"I love you more."
The producer of the episode immediately signals that it is time to start filming making you step away from your boyfriend's embrace as you give him a confident smile that tells him that he's got this.
Joshua gives you a smile before nodding and making his way over to the rest of his members.
You, on the other hand, walk towards the rest of the girlfriends who were engaging in some other small talk. They made room for you and were talking about the newest thrills that their boyfriend seem to have been into when a producer calls your name.
You perk up, slightly confused as to why you were being called out for until you realize that Joshua is standing in-front of your cherry blossom tree, with his hands behind his back.
"Before we begin today's filming." The producer starts, looking between you and Joshua. "Joshua would like to say a few words before we kick-off this weeks filming." He turns to Joshua with a big smile on his face before passing him the microphone.
Joshua clears his throat before speaking into the microphone.
"Bunny." He softly calls out making you peer out of the area you were sitting in. "Could you please come forward to where I am?"
You skeptically look at the love of your life but proceed to join Joshua at the front. As soon as you had moved there, you immediately ask a slew of rapid questions to your boyfriend to which he only replied with his shinning smile.
"Bunny." Joshua breathes out, turning to face you completely as he blocks out the rest of the world. "When I first saw you at the age of eight, I thought you were the biggest crybaby on the planet."
You feel your cheeks heat up as he says that, about to retort when he beats you to it.
"However, you were so unique and different that I was intrigued by you." Joshua softly admits, "I spent majority of my life searching for you ever since I had gotten this mark that ties us together and every time I tried, the universe always had something to say about it until that day where you had stumbled under the cherry blossom tree to eat kimbap at 11:30pm." That got a few giggles from the Going Seventeen team as Joshua continues. "I always knew that something in my life was missing. I've known that since I was eight years old and after I met you, I realize that you are the missing piece that I've been waiting for."
Your eyes widen as you realize why he is saying all these things.
He pulls out a velvet box from behind him and looks at you with the doe-eyes that you had grown to love more and more, everyday of your relationship.
"You complete me and my life, Bunny." Joshua softly admits, rolling the velvet box in his hand as he locks eyes with you, making you pulse quicken as you realize that he is about to do it. "So," Joshua starts, handing the microphone to you before he gets down on one knee, making you let out a gasp you didn't know you were holding. "Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"
"Yes." You breath out into the microphone. "A thousand times yes."
A toothy grin appears on Joshua's face before he launches himself forward slightly and captures your lips with his, making your heart soar at the thought of calling Joshua your fiance.
The two of you pull away, hearing all the loud cheers and whistles from the Seventeen members, their significant others as well as the staff members on set which makes you giggle a little.
"So the whole shoot is a lie?" You softly ask making Joshua nod his head. "We just needed to get you down to this location so we disguised it as a shoot because if we had told you anything else, you would've figured out the surprise."
His words make you warm as you shake your head, a soft smile on your face.
"You're such a nerd."
"I am your nerd for the rest of your life." Joshua goofily admits making you roll your eyes, a small giggle escaping your lips as you tighten your grip around him, "Hello, fiance." You softly say, looking up at Joshua who peers downwards at you, the grin on his face never fading. "Hello to you too, fiancee."
You peer downwards at the box that Joshua is holding, making you clear your throat as you fixated him with a mischievous grin.
"So are you going to put the ring on me or what?"
THE FUTURE UNDER THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS
"And that is the story of how your mummy and daddy met and got married before we had you guys." Joshua finishes as his daughter bounces slightly on his lap. "The End!"
"Do you think I will ever get a soulmate, daddy?" His daughter asks, her bambi, doe eyes shining and making Joshua's heart melt.
"Of course, sweetheart." Joshua admits, giving his daughter a little once over as the wind blows past them, making the cherry blossoms fall of the tree. "If you are anything like your mother, you will definitely get one, baby."
"What lies are you feeding our daughter this time?"
Joshua looks up, spotting you waddle over to the picnic blanket and his heart soars even more. "No lies." He admits, the mischievous grin on his face never fading. "Just telling her how you were absolutely in-love with me when we first met."
You roll your eyes at your husbands words as he gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "That's such a lie." You breath out, looking straight at your husband. "We both know it was you who was in love with me the first time we both met."
Joshua barks out a laugh as your daughter stands up from his lap, in awe of the pretty cherry blossoms that are cascading down.
"Mummy! Daddy!" She exclaims. "Look!"
The two of you share a quick glance at each other and smile. "Aren't they pretty, baby?" You ask her making her nod, her doe eyes still shimmering as she tries to catch one of the blossoms.
"Did you know that there are two hundred different variants of cherry blossoms trees, baby?" Joshua asks your daughter making the little girl stop her jumping as her eyes grew as big as saucers.
"That's bigger than the numbers we're learning in class right now!"
You couldn't help but laugh at her answer, shaking your head as the fond memories begin to flood your mind.
"Is that where you got my name from, mummy?" You tilt your head to the side as you take a quick glance at Joshua.
"What do you mean, sweetheart?"
"Well, my name is Cherry. Did you name me after the pretty trees?" Joshua grins at his daughters question and nods fondly.
"Yes." He admits. "We did because you're so precious to us and we can't wait to see you blossom and grow."
"Would I become as pretty as the pretty flowers?" Cherry asks making Joshua scoff as he grabs her and pulls her back into his lap.
"Cherry." Joshua coos, patting her head. "You're going to be prettier than any other flower that will ever grow, you know why?"
Cherry shook her head before Joshua locked eyes with you. "Because the reason of how your name came to be and the story behind it, is the best and prettiest thing that we could've ever asked for."
@livmarauder2026
Thank you guys so much for reading my spring collab fic! Be sure to check out all the other amazing works that this collab has to offer! New fics should be hitting tumblr very very soon...
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If you like this, please consider reblogging or liking! It really makes my day! <3 Thank you for showing loverboy joshua so much love!
✉️ ୨୧ listen to Iris by Goo Goo Dolls while reading this chapter >< trust me. i had that song on repeat the entire time i was writing ❤︎
isa: i'm so sorry to everyone for the last part :p i know it hurt. but basically… this was the whole plot from the start. >< sunghoon had to be dead. there was no other way to end it. also the taglist is closed for the smau :>
synopsis: lee heeseung has been your self-proclaimed nemesis since you were in grade school. from academic rivalries to petty fights, he is in every way the person you can’t stand the most in this world. but when the boy you’ve been pining after for months pops out with a girlfriend, you’re forced to turn to your nemesis for help. a fake relationship. no real feelings. and if things go well, you’ll have the love of your life and he’ll have a finished portfolio. simple, right? except nothing is ever simple when it comes to lee heeseung.
wc: 20k
warnings: photography student!lee heeseung x fem!reader, fake dating trope, rivals to lovers, he fell first and harder, slow burn (reader takes a second to realize she’s in love with hee, but she gets there), kind of love triangle but not really, sunghoon is in here because who would i be without my heehoon agenda, also ft jake and yunjin and chaewon (le sserafim), fluff, alcohol consumption, college!au, cussing, romcom vibes (obviously. this is me writing this) // smut, p in v, oral f!receiving, fingering, soft sex, praise kink, pet names (baby, princess), body worship (? i think), begging, spitting, multiple orgasms, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)
rose thinks… for those who don’t know, fake dating is my absolute all time favorite trope, so of course i had to write it with my favorite guy. i also watched off campus so yk… it’s been a while since i’ve uploaded, so i hope this lives up to any expectations you might have had for it. a special thanks to my lovely @sjynlvr , because you unknowingly gave me the motivation i needed to write this. your kindness in enhablr is felt by this entire community, and it seriously would be so much scarier here without you. as always, reblogs are always appreciated <3
playlist: double take - dhruv // the way i loved you - taylor swift // just a little bit - enhypen // roommates - malcolm todd // boyfriend - ariana grande & social house // pov - ariana grande
You don’t hate Lee Heeseung, mostly because your mom always said that hate was just another word for love (which—absolutely not), but you do find him extremely infuriating.
It’s in the way he’s always just had to be a step ahead of you. Like that time in the fifth grade when your teacher held a mock election for your government lesson, and he’d deliberately ran against you with the sole intention of annoying you. And when he won, he didn’t even do any of the things he’d promised! All he did was pass out whiteboards, and he always made sure to give you the one with the annoying black scribbles on them.
You went through high school like that, with him constantly one upping you in everything you did. He’d even almost beaten you for valedictorian, but you scored two and a half points higher than him on your AP Physics final and the spot was rightfully given to you.
He didn't even seem mad about it, which made the entire thing even more infuriating. He’d spent years trying to prove he was better than you and didn't even flinch when it all amounted to nothing? What a tool.
University was supposed to be an escape. Not just from the mean high school girls and the boring small town you came from, but from him as well. You’d finally be able to breathe without him constantly hovering, you’d finally be able to relax without the constant worry that he was going to do something to ruin it.
So when you walked into your first day of classes at Decalis University, fully expecting to see no one familiar, you can imagine your absolute horror to see him sitting front and center like he owned the place.
He was already making good conversation with your professor, you could tell by how the older man was talking so admittedly with his hands and smiling like he couldn’t get enough of whatever it was Heeseung was talking about.
That’s the thing about Heeseung, everyone around you always seems to think he’s this perfect, charming guy. They don’t see what he really is, not like you do. You seem to be the only person he decides to be his actual evil self with. Why he chose you, you aren’t entirely sure. You don’t think you ever will be.
But that was six months ago, and despite the giant Heeseung shaped stain on your university experience, the entire thing has been significantly better than high school. You don’t see him as much for starters, and when you do he seems too busy to actually try and annoy you. Not for a lack of trying though—those first few months were torture.
You’ve got an eight am class today, which means you have an excuse to make a stop at the coffee shop on campus. It’s right next to your dorm which is insanely convenient and definitely bad for your health, but you're a freshman in college. You don’t think you could name a single person who isn’t surviving off of cheap coffee and gas station noodles.
The line is long, which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but you’re running late and your professors decided he'll dock a letter grade for every tardy. You haven’t had to go through that pain yet, and you really don’t want to change that now.
You rock back and forth on your feet uncomfortably, the line seeming to move slower and slower. You almost consider saying fuck it and just going to class, but then you remember that you’re running off of two hours of sleep and decide you’d rather not fall asleep during your lesson.
It takes another ten minutes before you place your order, and then you’re solemnly waiting off to the side and trying to act like your nerves aren’t tangling up in your stomach.
“Long line, huh?”
You tense. You recognize that voice, and when you look up, the face that accompanies it is enough to ruin your entire morning more than it already has been. So much for not bothering you.
Your eyes narrow, lips curling downwards. At this point, you’re starting to believe your body's natural reaction to Lee Heeseung is immediate disdain. “Why are you talking to me?” You ask bluntly. No point in small talk with him, especially when you know he’s just trying to get under your skin by speaking to you.
He laughs, teeth on display as he does. “Are you this hostile with everyone when you first wake up?”
“Only people who annoy me.”
“I just made an observation, why would that annoy you?”
You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. He knows exactly what he’s doing–he always has. His innocent act may work on every other person in this university, but not you. You know Heeseung, you know that getting under people's skin is his favorite pastime. You just wish you understood why he loves to do it to you specifically.
“Can you just…not? You know what you’re doing.”
“I promise I don’t.” The smirk threatening to break onto his lips says otherwise.
You take a deep breath and choose not to play into his game anymore. It’s pretty easy actually, because the barista calls out your name and you practically trip over your feet to grab it. You’ve got ten minutes to make it halfway across campus and into your lecture hall before you’re docked an entire letter grade. You’ve made it there with less.
You don’t bother saying goodbye to Heeseung, but you feel his gaze on you as you leave. Your skin prickles from the weight of it, but you don’t have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now. It’s too early for that.
Tonight’s the last game of the football season, which means practically the entire university showed up to the stadium to show their support, if support meant getting drunk off their asses.
You hadn’t planned to go, mostly because sports had never really been your thing, but Yunjin insists you have to come.
“It’ll be fun!” She pleads, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. She grabs your wrist and pulls on it, but you don’t budge from your spot at your desk. You told her that you had a big test to study for and that’s why you couldn’t go. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you didn’t really need to study, you already knew the material like the back of your hand.
You sigh and pull your arm from her grip, “I can’t do bad on this test, Yunjin. You know what’ll happen if I do.”
“Yes, yes, the big bad Heeseung will score higher than you and your entire life will be ruined. Believe me, I know.” She clicks her tongue and walks behind you so her hands can rest on your shoulders. “But I think Sunghoon would be so sad to see that you didn’t come to support him for his last game.”
You immediately tense, your face going hot and stomach flipping in ways you didn’t know were possible. Even just the mere mention of Park Sunghoon forces a physical reaction out of you. It’s honestly a little embarrassing.
Sunghoon is the kind of boy you read about in romance novels or watch romcoms about. He’s sweet, smart, and the kind of handsome you weren’t aware a person can actually be. And he does it all effortlessly, like being perfect is something he was just born with. It probably was.
It doesn’t help that he’s always going out of his way to talk to you. Study dates, coffee runs after class, texts about nothing in the middle of the night, all things that feel like a relationship but actually aren’t.
Yunjin keeps insisting that you go for it, and you know that it’s probably not going to be as scary as you’re thinking it will be. After all, all it would do is put a title on whatever song and dance it is that the two of you’ve been putting on for the past couple months.
“I doubt he’d notice if I was there or not.” You shrug, doing your best to seem casual and not like the thought of him has hearts forming in your eyes.
Yunjin squeezes your shoulder and spins your chair around so you’re forced to face her. Her red hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her brows furrowed in determination. She looks a little bit like some kind of strange love coach who takes their job way too seriously. “You’re going to this game.” She says firmly.
“I’m not.”
“That’s what you think.”
The stadium is loud, people talking over each other in the hopes their friends will be able to hear them. They don’t, which means people just talk louder. The lights are bright and overwhelming, and you almost feel claustrophobic with how close the seats are to each other, like whoever designed the place did it without any regard for personal space at all.
Yunjin and Jake are on either side of you, both of them way too invested in the game. You are too, but not for the same reasons as them.
Sunghoon got into Decalis on a football scholarship and is the school's best starting quarterback in fifteen years. Even though he has every right to have a big head about it, he’s so humble you don’t think the thoughts ever even crossed his mind. Someone always approaches him about it when you’re out together on campus, and every time without fail his cheeks go bright pink and he gets this bashful smile on his face. It’s one of the reasons you’ve fallen for him as hard as you have, because unlike most guys you’ve interacted with, he doesn’t seem to have much of an ego at all.
It’s a very welcome contrast to Heeseung.
You can see him on the field too, walking behind the players sitting on the bench and getting candid shots of them. Even though you hate admitting it, he’s always been a gifted photographer. His photos were always hanging up in local art shows or featured in your high school yearbooks. Strangely, it’s the only thing he doesn’t brag about, despite it being the only thing he deserves to.
“Oh, that’s bullshit!” Jake yells, popcorn spilling from his lap as he gestures wildly. “That was our play!”
You give him a side-eye and sink further into your seat. You honestly couldn’t care less about this whole thing; you're just excited to see Sunghoon in his post-game glow as you like to call it. Damp hair, face glowing with a sheen of sweat, his chest still heaving from running up and down the field. The entire thing is admittedly your guilty pleasure.
Yunjin elbows your ribs gently, her chin poking out to the field. You follow her gaze and find Sunghoon with his helmet in hand, drinking out of a green gatorade bottle and laughing at something one of his teammates says. He looks perfect. He is perfect.
And if things go right, he’ll be yours.
By the time the game ends, you’re more than ecstatic to finally get out of your seat and see Sunghoon. Yunjin teases you the entire way down, but you barely notice her. Not when your heart is nearly fluttering out of your chest.
But when you get down there, it’s not Sunghoon you see. No, it’s something much worse.
Heeseung.
He doesn’t notice you at first, and you almost think you’ll be able to sneak around him, but then Jake decides it’s a good idea to open his big mouth and alert the enemy to your presence.
“Heeseung!” He calls, raising his hand in a wave. “What’s good, man?”
Heeseung looks up then, sharp eyes falling onto Jake, and slowly trailing over to you. He grins, all teeth and something akin to mischief, and casually makes his way over to your small group.
“Hey Jake,” he greets, jutting his chin out swiftly. “Yunjin.”
Yunjin returns the greeting politely. “Heeseung.”
She has no reason to be mean to him, but as your closest friend, she understands that she must, by international girl-code law, dislike anyone you dislike, which includes him.
He turns to you then, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes. He keeps the same smile on his face despite the way you glare at him. “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi.” You respond shortly. You don’t know why he even bothers trying to be nice to you in public, especially when he knows you're not going to return whatever sentiment it is he has.
He smirks like you’ve just said the funniest thing in the world. “Would it hurt you to be nicer?”
“Yes,” you respond easily. “It would, actually.”
He frowns and grabs at his shirt dramatically, right over where his heart is. “Always so mean.”
“You’ll live.”
He chuckles, reaching out and roughing up your hair. You smack his hands away and rush to fix it, palms smoothing down the parts he frizzed up. “Don’t do that!”
He ignores you and turns to talk to Jake about the game, and you can hear them say something about how the referees almost cost the team that last quarter, but you aren’t paying attention to that anymore.
Because behind Heeseung you can see a familiar head of damp black hair, thick eyebrows, and a perfect smile.
“Hey guys,” Sunghoon grins as he approaches. He’s ditched his football uniform and is instead wearing a black long sleeved compression shirt, and you swear your brain short circuits at the sight.
His attention falls to you first, just like it always does, and his smile widens just a fraction. Not enough for it to seem like anything else but a friendly gesture, but it doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering out of control or your cheeks from heating to near impossible levels.
“Hey!” You chirp a bit too loudly, hand shooting up in a wave.
“Nice game tonight, man!” Jake gushes, his hands moving animatedly. “The way you got that goal right at the beginning was insane! I swear, Penn didn't even know what hit them.”
Sunghoon grins and brings a hand up to his neck, the way he always does when somebody praises him, like he still can’t quite process the amount of attention on him. “Thanks, Jake. Seriously.”
“Those refs were awful though,” Yunjin throws in.
The three of them end up in conversation about the game, all of them spewing out football lingo that you couldn’t be bothered to understand. Heeseung's still here too, just…lingering.
He’s friends with Jake and Sunghoon, yes, but he’s always on the sidelines. He’s been like that since high school. He’s friends with everyone, but he never lets them in. Doesn’t make any attempts to know them outside of a surface level friendship.
It’s a little sad, honestly. But you stopped questioning the way his brain worked a long time ago. If he wanted to keep to himself, then that was perfectly fine by you.
You don’t notice her approach, not until she’s sliding into the spot next to Sunghoon like she belongs there. Short black hair, bangs that frame her face like she was born with them, big brown eyes. Kim Chaewon is as beautiful as she is smart, and unbelievably kind. Not to mention she’d made cheer captain as a sophomore, and has kept the title all the way into her junior year.
“Hey, Hoon,” she says, voice sweet like honey. You know it shouldn’t, but something twists low and deep in your chest at the way she looks at him. Like she knows him. Like he belongs to her.
You expect him to greet her like he does everyone else. Always polite, but without the extra tenderness he saves for you. Without the small quirk of his lips or the subtle softening of his eyes, because that had always been yours. Your look.
Instead, when he looks at her, his lips quirk up, his eyes soften, and he snags a hand around her waist like he can’t imagine it being anywhere else.
You think this must be a joke. Not a very funny one, but a joke nonetheless. A tasteless prank. Because there is no way Park Sunghoon—the same Park Sunghoon that calls you in the middle of the night and insists he walk you home from class—has his arm around Kim Chaewon and is giving her the same look he gives you.
Yunjin looks just as shocked as you feel, but she’s never been as good at having a poker face as you. Her jaw drops, eyes going wide as she stares at the pair of them. “Um,” she laughs uncomfortably, “Sunghoon do you mind maybe… informing us as to who this is?”
Yunjin knows who Chaewon is, you know that. She's doing that thing she does where she tries to indirectly ask someone something without coming off as rude. For once, you're thankful for her weird methods.
Sunghoon clears his throat, his eyes flickering to yours for a split second before they return to Chaewon. “Right, uh,” he swallows, and you watch as his fingers flex at his side. A nervous habit. “This is Chaewon. We’ve been…seeing each other.”
You blink, your mind going a million miles a minute as you try to make sense of what he’s saying. The words are coming out of his mouth, and yet they still feel fake. Like a figment of your worst nightmare where the boy you’re in love with tells you he’s seeing someone.
“Seeing each other?” You repeat, voice raising in pitch.
Chaewon nods, her lips curling up into a shy smile as she places a hand on Sunghoon's chest. “It was a recent development,” she chuckles.
You feel like you’re going to be sick.
Sunghoon smiles at her before removing his arm from her waist so he can gesture at the three of you. “How do you feel about dinner so Chae can get to know you guys? My treat.”
Chae. How long has this been going on for them to already have cute little nicknames for each other?
The thought of sitting at dinner with them sounds like torture. Having to sit there and watch him touch her? Smile at her? You don’t want to sound jealous (you are), but that’s supposed to be you. You’re the one he should be smiling at—you were the one! You can’t wrap your head around how he could suddenly be seeing someone when just last week he was smiling at you like you meant something to him?
Had you imagined it? Convinced yourself there was something there when he was just being friendly? But even Yunjin said he looked at you differently. Was she just feeding into your delusions?
Heeseung's voice pulls you out of your frenzy, and when you look up, he’s looking straight at you like he can read your mind. “Sorry, man,” he says, eyes staying on you for a moment longer before they shift to Sunghoon. “I’ve gotta get these pictures developed before they close the red room.”
Sunghoon waves him off, “don’t worry about it.” He says, “I’ll see you when we get home tonight. What about you guys?”
There’s absolutely no way you’re going to dinner with them. You can’t, like, physically can’t. You think you’ll die if you do.
Instead of saying that, or coming up with some kind of excuse, what comes out is, “I’m free.”
Yunjin's head snaps to you in shock, and then she blurts out a sudden, “same!”
Jake shrugs, “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Great!” Sunghoon grins, “let’s meet at that diner off of fifth? They’re usually open late.”
He walks away after that, hand in hand with Chaewon, and you watch them go while your heart sinks deep into your chest. She’s laughing at something he says, her free hand slapping his arm lightly, and he smiles down at her like she’s the only girl in his universe. The same way you thought he was doing to you.
“Well,” Heeseungs starts, his eyes finding you’d once again, like he can feel the hurt radiating off your body. He probably can. “Since when was that a thing?”
Jake shrugs the way most clueless men do. “No idea.”
The two of them walk away after that, and you’re thankful to be left alone with Yunjin.
“What the fuck?” She says, hands resting on her hips. “That’s gotta be a joke. Or maybe some kind of dare. I don’t fucking know, but there’s no way they’re actually seeing each other! He was literally blowing up your phone two days ago!” She snaps her fingers like she’s made some kind of profound discovery. "It must be some kind of spell. You know, I’ve always thought witches and magic were real–”
“Yunjin,” you interrupt, eyes already glassy and throat closing up with an onslaught of tears. You aren’t going to cry over him–that would be ridiculous, especially since you weren’t even dating, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt. If you’re being completely honest, it hurts like hell.
Yunjin notices immediately, and before you can process it, she’s throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her chest in the middle of the field. “I’m sorry, babe,” she sighs, “I really thought he was going to ask you out tonight.”
She’s not the only one.
You just shrug, doing your best to mask your hurt, even though you know there’s no point when it comes to Yunjin. You’ve only known her for six months, yet she’s the only person who can read you like an open book. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she mumbles, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “But it will be. Because we’re going to show Sunghoon exactly what he missed out on.”
You snort, rolling your eyes and shrugging her off of you so you can make the trek back to your shared dorm. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugs, “you’ll see.”
You should question her. Should refuse to go anywhere with her until she tells you what her plan is, but you don’t do any of that. You trust Yunjin, and you know that while her methods may be strange, she does everything with good intentions. Besides, you doubt you won’t be able to handle whatever it is she’s cooking up.
The diner off of 5th is the only place that stays open after ten pm and still serves edible food. It’s a campus staple, which means it’s nearly always packed—especially after games. So, you aren’t too surprised that you have to weave through multiple bodies just to find the table Sunghoon had managed to snag for the five of you, and nobody comments when it takes you nearly five minutes just to make it from the front door to your seats.
“I’m starving,” Yunjin groans, her tongue swiping over her lips as she flips through the menu. The both of you know she’s just going to get the same thing she does every time, but she says she finds joy in looking unpredictable.
“Me too,” Sunghoon agrees.
He looks good. Tired, but good. His hair is falling over his eyes in that dorky kind of way and he’s wearing his glasses—a rare sight. Normally, you’d be the only one doing this much analysis into his look, but when you glance over at Chaewon, she’s staring at him with a dopey grin on her face.
You frown and look down at your menu. You still don’t understand how this could’ve happened. It just didn’t make any sense. When you take out the part where you’re totally in love with Sunghoon, it still makes no sense for him to hide his apparent relationship with Chaewon. Was it a relationship? Are they even dating? Or are they just in that weird space between where you both know it’s going to happen, but they’re still choosing to dance around it?
You’d thought you were there with Sunghoon. You thought it was only a matter of time before he swept you off of your feet and confessed his love for you with some kind of grand, dramatic gesture.
But your life is clearly not a movie, because Park Sunghoon is reaching for Chaewon's hand under the table. His thumb is rubbing small, comforting circles into her skin, and she’s doing a very bad job at hiding her smile.
You shouldn’t have agreed to come.
Jake, for all his strange qualities, has always been observant (except when it comes to possible romantic partners), and he watches the entire exchange with narrowed eyes and bated breath. You’d never talked to him about your relationship with Sunghoon, but he (along with your nemesis) was the guy's roommate, so you assume he must've known that there was something going on between you. Unless you really are just delusional and everything had been entirely friendly.
“So,” Jake starts, wagging his finger towards the couple. “We’re so glad you’re here, Chaewon. Seriously. But I just can’t believe this is the first I’m hearing about…this. I mean, not to sound like a douche or anything, but I live with Sunghoon and he hasn’t brought you up once. He’s talked about–” his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, before he clears his throat and tries to pretend it never happened. “It’s just kind of unexpected.”
Chaewon giggles, reaching a hand up and swiping her bangs over her forehead. They fall right back into place. “It was a recent development.”
Yunjin snorts, taking a sip from her cup with the kind of casual confidence you wish you had. “Clearly.”
If anybody catches the irritation in her tone, they don’t comment on it.
“He actually hit me with a football during practice,” Chaewon laughs, bringing her arm up to rest casually behind Sunghoon. You can nearly make out her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “It was the total opposite of a meet-cute. But it still worked out anyway, because he invited me to coffee as an apology and things just went from there.”
Coffee? He always takes you to coffee. Did they go to the same place you go to? Did he show her the secret menu that’s not really a secret? Did he joke around with your favorite barista like he does when he’s with you?
Your throat feels tight again, but you suck down a gulp from your drink and try to act like you aren’t on the brink of emotional collapse.
Yunjin smiles, but it looks forced. She taps your thigh once, like she’s warning you, but before you can question it, she’s already opening her mouth. “You know, that’s honestly kind of crazy. Two of my friends are getting into relationships at the same time. You’d think I’d get some of that luck too considering I seem to be the common denominator here, but nope!”
You blink. You love Yunjin, you really do, but outside of you the only other person you saw her consistently speak to is her pet gerbil. And even that was leaning into more of a casual situation lately.
Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise briefly, but he’s quick to lower them. “Really?” He mumbles. You can practically feel the curiosity radiating off of him. He’s always been way too nosy. “Who?”
The next few moments are still a bit of a blur in your mind. You remember feeling like someone had spilled a bucket of cold water on you, but when you ran a hand through your hair, it was completely dry.
Yunjin smiles, and she looks so innocent you almost believe the lie that rolls off of her tongue like honey. You probably would’ve if it didn't have to do with you. “[Y/N], you’ve been seeing someone recently as well, haven’t you?”
You nearly choke, eyes widening into saucers. You splutter for an answer, blinking rapidly as you do. “What? A relationship? I don’t–well, I mean–maybe–?” It’s not until Yunjin sends a swift heel to your shin do you manage to get out a full sentence. “Yes,” you squeak. “I have been…seeing someone. It’s very recent. Very new. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are that it happened so quickly.”
The table goes silent for a moment, and you suddenly feel very, very exposed. You know Yunjin knows you’re a terrible liar, she witnessed it firsthand when you tried to lie about eating her leftover cheesecake, and yet she thought making you lie in a group setting would make your skills any better? If anything, it just made them ten times worse!
You’re waiting for the inevitable–for someone to give an uncomfortable laugh before attempting to move the conversation forward. Meanwhile, you’re going to pray to whatever is listening up in the sky for the floor to swallow you whole and for this day to have never happened.
But that doesn’t happen. Instead, the next few moments are probably the most confusing of your life.
“That’s good, [Y/N],” Sunghoon says, smiling at you the way he does with everyone else. It’s not the smile you’re used to. Not the curl of his lips that would send butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and make your cheeks burst with color. This one is practiced, easy. Entirely wrong. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
You pale, parting your lips to give some shitty excuse. Maybe your delivery man? You met when he was dropping off your amazon vibrator and he complimented you on the brand. A very plausible start to any college relationship, and it’d be easy to hide considering he’s not real.
But before you can tell your made-up story, Yunjin beats you to the punch.
“Oh, you’re going to lose your mind. I know I did when she told me.” She laughs aloud, and when her eyes find yours, you suddenly wish you’d never even gotten out of bed this morning. Maybe finishing the course with a B wouldn’t have been so bad if it meant you got to avoid this terrible fate.
She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice into that soft teasing tilt she’s perfected. “She’s been seeing your other roommate. The one she apparently can’t stand.”
Jake’s eyes widen, his hands slamming on the table so he can lean against them and get a better look at you. He practically screams when he asks, “you’ve been seeing Heeseung?”
You should’ve just taken the dock off of your grade.
“Yunjin, do not come near me right now or I swear to God you’re going to be missing chunks of hair.”
She winces, hands immediately tugging on the red strands. “Anything but the hair! You know it’s my best feature.” She attempts to joke, but you’re having absolutely none of it.
“You realize they live with him, right? What happens when they ask him about his apparent relationship with me?” You snap, slamming the door to your dorm behind you. The walk here had been completely silent—or, at least, it had been from your end. Yunjin spent the entire time trying to act like she hadn’t just lied to all of your friends that you were dating Lee Heeseung. The one person in this world everyone knows you cannot stand.
She flops onto her bed and stretches her arms over her head. “They’re guys! They don’t talk about that kind of stuff. Jake didn’t even know Sunghoon was seeing Chaewon! Which, can we talk about that, actually? I mean, seriously, what the fuck? One second he’s taking you on these cute little dates and the next—”
“Yunjin,” you groan, rubbing the heels of your palm into your eyes. You’re absolutely exhausted, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can talk about Sunghoon without your head wanting to explode. “As much as I’d love to talk about Sanghoon's sparkling love life and my lack of one, I’ve got a nine am tomorrow that I’d rather not have to sleep through because I stayed up all night talking about my nonexistent love life.”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. "No, yeah, of course. But, before you become dead to the world, you’re actually kind of wrong about something.”
“What?”
“Your love life isn’t nonexistent,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re seeing Heeseung, remember?”
You throw the pillow at her so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t mold to her face.
You’ve always enjoyed your nine am literacy analysis lecture. After all, you’re an English major. Literacy analysis is kind of your whole thing.
The only part of the class that is mildly annoying is the fact that you share it with Heeseung. But, surprisingly, he rarely ever bothers you. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s finally matured and realized it’s stupid to bother you during lecture, or if he’d just gotten bored of the entire thing. Either way, you’d be perfectly fine with whatever the answer was as long as it kept him away from you.
Today though, your nerves are practically fried. Does he know? Did he expose you? You don’t know why he would lie for you, and honestly, you don’t expect him to. He probably laughed out loud before Sunghoon and Jake even asked him about it.
God, you love Yunjin, you really do, but right now you wish she’d stayed home with her gerbil last night. Maybe that way she wouldn’t have been able to open her big mouth.
You don’t look at Heeseung when you enter. You don’t even look in his general direction. You just keep your head down and try to look as normal as possible through the lecture, which is exceptionally difficult when your mind is buzzing with so much nervous energy it could power the entire university.
The usual hour seems to pass by in a blur, and when your professor releases you for dismissal, you’re quick to pack your bags and make a swift exit. You're practically out of breath by the time you make it outside, but you’re relieved you managed to get out without having to make any contact with Heeseung. You aren’t sure you would’ve been able to survive the embarrassment.
You pull the strap of your bag further up your shoulder and pull out your phone, fully ready to call Yunjin and complain to her about the mess she’s gotten you into, but a call of your name forces your head up.
Heeseung makes his way over to you casually, a backwards baseball cap covering up his dirty blonde hair and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He isn’t giving you that usual teasing smile he always wears when he sees you, instead he looks unusually serious.
You tense, pulse pounding in your ears and alarm bells ringing in your head. You have half the mind to turn and make a run for it, but he reaches you before your feet can move.
“Hi,” he says simply. Casually. Like he’s talking to a friend and asking about the weather.
You hesitate, but return the greeting nonetheless. “...Hi.”
He cracks a smile, but scrunches his nose before it reaches his eyes and his lips fall back down into a straight line. “We need to talk.”
Your blood turns to ice, skin paling before you can stop it. He knows. And if he knows that means he told everyone the truth, and he’s probably already told the entire campus about your stupid lie as well. You’re going to be known as the girl who lied about being in a relationship because she couldn't accept that the boy she likes has a girlfriend, and then you're going to have to transfer somewhere else and start going by a new name.
God, you are going to kill Yunjin. It’ll be like a final goodbye before you’re forced to move across the country.
You shake your head immediately. “No, uh, we don’t actually. I already know what you’re going to say, so I’ll just start packing my things now. No need for this awkward rejection or whatever–not that I’m being rejected by you. God, I’d rather die before I go out with you. But, Yunjin has a big mouth and I never know how to stop her before she says something stupid, so now my social life is totally dead and–”
You’re rambling so fast it takes a moment for you to register that Heeseung's laughing, and even longer to realize that he’s laughing at you. His shoulders shake from the force of it, and the back of his hand comes up to cover his mouth. If this was anyone else, you might even think he looked cute.
You swallow, unable to help the pout that forms on your lips. “And now you’re laughing at me.”
“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, taking in a deep breath and trying to find some composure. “It’s just…you’ve always been really good at jumping to conclusions.”
Your brows furrow, mouth parting as you try to process his words. What does he mean you’re good at jumping to conclusions? Why does he always talk like he knows anything about you? You know they shouldn’t, but the words tick you off. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugs, lips curving up into that smile you’ve unfortunately become way too familiar with. The one that screams trouble and always means he’s up to no good. “I have to admit, I was pretty surprised when Jake grilled me for half an hour last night on our apparent relationship–” you visibly wince, but he ignores it and continues– “but, I thought to myself, why on earth would [Y/N] [L/N] tell our friends we were in a relationship? I figured you had to have a reason, so I went along with it.”
Your jaw drops, eyes blinking a mile a minute like maybe that’ll help everything make sense. Newsflash, it doesn’t–if anything it just makes everything feel ten times more confusing. “You what?”
He shrugs, “you have a reason, right? Otherwise, we just became a couple for no reason. Unless that’s what you wanted? Was this whole thing just an elaborate scheme to get with me?” His voice drops an octave, and he takes a step closer, until suddenly he’s in your space and you can smell the fresh linen from his detergent and his cedarwood cologne. “You know, princess, if you wanted to be with me, all you had to do was ask.”
You might be extremely confused right now, but you’ve got enough sense to know that the last thing you want in your life is to be in a real relationship with him. And you definitely don’t want him calling you princess.
You take a step back, your arms coming up to put space between the two of you. “Ew, no, absolutely not. Like I said, I’d rather die before I dated you.”
He hums, shoving his hands back in his pockets and beginning to walk away. “Okay. I’ll just go tell Jake and Sunghoon that you lied then–”
Your hand shoots out and wraps around his arm before you can stop yourself, and you feel the muscle tense up beneath your fingertips. He stills, his head tilting as he looks back at you.
You swallow, taking your pride down with the saliva. “I’m sorry,” you sigh out, “I just don't know how to go about this without sounding like a total loser.”
His lips curve up and he turns so he’s facing you fully. “You’re going to sound like a loser to me no matter what, so just tell me.”
You glower, your hand dropping back to your side. You try to ignore the warmth lingering in your palm as it balls up at your side. “I’ve had a thing for this guy–”
He nods. “Sunghoon, right?”
Is it really that obvious? You narrow your eyes, “How’d you know? Did he say something about me?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve seen the way you follow each other like lost puppies. I’ve gotta admit, I was surprised when he popped out with Chaewon and not you.”
You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. If even Heeseung, the one person you absolutely cannot stand, could see that there was something between you and Sunghoon, then that must mean you aren’t delusional. But, on the other hand, it makes you wonder what made Sunghoon change his mind so quickly.
Were you trying to take things too slow? Did he get bored of the waiting? You thought the dancing around each other was sweet, but maybe he was looking at it differently. Maybe he just got sick of waiting around for you.
Heeseung must notice how your thoughts have wandered, because he waves a hand in front of your face and raises his brows. “You still with me?”
Your eyes snap to him and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, um, as I was saying, I’ve had a thing for him for a while. So, when he took us to dinner with Chaewon last night, Yunjin had this bright idea to say that I was also in a relationship with…you. And the whole thing just kind of spiraled from there.”
He’s silent for a moment, like he’s processing your words. “She said we were dating to make Sunghoon jealous? How does that work?”
You groan and run a hand over your face. “I don’t know! I don’t know what she was thinking! I’ve already yelled at her over it!” You feel your frustration building again, but you take a deep breath and force it down. “It was stupid. And now you’re dragged into this entire mess and I don’t know how I’m going to tell everyone the truth.”
There are a lot of things you dislike about Heeseung. He’s rude in that passive aggressive kind of way, and he only ever does it to you. He always forgets a pen and never gives yours back when you lend one to him. He’s wildly selfish and thinks that the entire world revolves around him. He also always manages to catch you by surprise, and you absolutely loathe surprises.
Today is no exception.
His lips part in thought, and for the first time you can actually see him thinking about what he’s going to say before he says it. Usually, he just blurts out whatever's on his mind and deals with the consequences later.
“What if…” he hesitates for a moment. “What if you didn’t tell them?”
“What?”
He splutters for a moment, a nervous laugh bubbling from his lips. “I just mean, what if we let everyone think we’re dating? Not that we actually date. That would be…awful.”
“Why would we do that, though?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like me having a boyfriend is going to change Sunghoon's mind. And what would you even get out of it aside from undeniable blackmail material?”
He shrugs, “actually Sunghoon looked pretty distraught last night. He kept asking me about you and our budding relationship.”
Your heart skips a beat at that. He was asking about you? It shouldn't affect you like it does, especially when he’s got a girlfriend, but the thought of him thinking about you has butterflies flying around your stomach.
Still, it doesn’t explain why Heeseung would want to help you. He’s never gone out of his way to do it before, so you don’t see why he would now.
“But, what do you get out of this?” You ask, pointing a wary finger at him. “You’ve never been nice enough to actually help me before.”
He scoffs, “first off, that's not true. What about that science project we did Junior year? The one with the ant colony? I partnered up with you after Stella got that weird illness.”
“You mean the ant colony you released into Mrs. Hong's room? She made us deep clean the room every day for, like, two weeks. And Stella had pneumonia.”
“Yeah, but that was after we’d already gotten an A.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
He sighs and pulls out a creme folder from his bag. He taps it once and hands it to you. You accept it questioningly, looking up at him through your lashes with suspicion. “What is this?”
“My portfolio,” he explains. Just as he said, when you open it there's what you think must be hundreds of photos. Some of nature, some of the people on campus, some of just random mundane things. They’re all breathtaking shots, and it's then that you remember he’s here on a full scholarship after winning some national photography contest. It’d been the only thing he talked about for weeks.
You knew he was going to win the moment it was announced.
“Wow,” you mumble, continuing to flip through the photos. “These are amazing.”
He brings a hand up to his neck and scratches at it nervously. “Thanks.”
One picture captures your attention. It’s a candid shot of Sunghoon in class, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, eyebrows tucked in that adorable way they always are when he’s frustrated. The people around him are blurry, and you assume they’re getting their stuff for dismissal.
“The photography committee on campus is holding a competition,” he continues, “$100,000 and your pictures are featured in international art shows. But, in order to enter, I need a muse. Someone I can get consistent pictures of. If we’re “dating”, no one will question why I’m constantly taking pictures of you, and it saves me the hassle of having to ask anyone else.”
You raise a brow. He wants to be in a fake couple so that he can take pictures of you for a contest? It doesn’t feel like a fair trade to you at all. “Why don’t you ask Jake or Sunghoon? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
He gives you a fixed look. “I already did, but they both claimed they were too busy. You’re my last resort before I start asking random people on campus.”
The explanation still feels weird to you, but you aren’t going to fight him anymore on it. Besides, you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re now in a fake relationship with public enemy number one.
“So…what now?” You ask, closing the folder and handing it back to him. He takes it with steady hands, and when his fingers brush yours, there’s a solid five seconds where your breath catches in your throat and you almost forget about everything you dislike about Heeseung.
“Jay Park’s having a party tomorrow night,” he breathes, lips turning up into that awful smile. “Beer. Dancing. Maybe some weed. Sunghoon and Chaewon will definitely be there, which means you and I will also be there.”
Your nose scrunches at the thought. You’d only gone to one party so far, and the entire experience had been so awful you’d sworn them off completely.
“I don’t really do parties,” you mumble.
Heeseung snorts like that’s the understatement of the century. “We won't stay for long. Just long enough for Sunghoon to see us, and then we’ll go.”
You nod, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels heavy. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and your eyes fall to the floor. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “For helping me.”
He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Just nods casually like fake dating people is something he does daily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, princess.”
You really need to tell him to stop calling you that.
When you tell Yunjin, she doesn’t even try to act surprised. “I knew it would work out,” she says confidently, staring at a pimple in her reflection. “That's why I said it in the first place.”
You roll your eyes, fingers moving over your keyboard rapidly. You need to finish up your analysis paper before the deadline next week, but every time you sit down to write your brain wanders to dirty blonde hair and that annoyingly perfect smile.
“Whatever.” You mumble, “he’s expecting me to go to some party with him tomorrow night, but I don’t know. I really need to finish this paper, and the last time we went to a party I got so drunk I collided with the wall.”
Yunjin snorts at the memory, and then she’s standing and making her way over to you. She sits crisscrossed on your bed and ever-so-gently forces your laptop closed. You don’t argue with her, it’s not like you were getting anything done anyway.
“So, your fake boyfriend–who by the way, is super hot–is asking you to go to a party with him, and you don’t want to because you’d rather stay at home and analyze Edgar Allen Poe?” She asks, drawing out the sentence so you feel completely and utterly stupid.
“It’s not Edgar Allen Poe,” you mutter, “and, I don’t know, this entire thing just feels so insane! Like, what am I hoping happens? Sunghoon realizes he’s actually in love with me and breaks up with Chaewon?”
“Exactly that, yes.” Yunjin nods, like it’s obvious.
You shoot her a glare. “That’s not fair to either of them. If they’re happy, why should I try to ruin that?”
Yunjin sighs, her hands reaching out to grab yours. She brings them into her lap and squeezes them comfortingly. “If they’re happy, then you being in a relationship with Heeseung isn’t going to matter. But you said he asked about you, right? That means he still cares at least a little bit, and if that’s the case, then it’s not fair to Chaewon for him to stay with her.” She smiles softly, her shoulders bobbing as she shrugs them. “I don’t know what he’s doing right now, but I know that there was something going on between the two of you. And if you care about him, you shouldn’t let that go without a fight.”
When she wanted to, Yunjin could give some seriously killer advice. Your lips curve up, chest feeling lighter and mind not so hazy. “Thanks, Yunjin. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Die, probably.”
You laugh loudly, throwing your head back with it. “Yeah,” you agree, “probably.”
The next night, your nerves are absolutely shot. Heeseung texted you that he’d pick you and Yunjin up from your dorm at seven, which meant you’d spent the entire day stressed out of your mind.
Sunghoon was going to be there, that much was obvious, but the thought of parading yourself around with Heeseung in front of him makes you feel sick. For one, he knows you. He’s always been able to see right through you, and you have half the mind to think he’ll make your little lie before you even step through the door.
You suck in a breath, your hands smoothing out the sides of your skirt. The dress Yunjin lent you is a lot shorter than anything you’re used to wearing, and the black cloth hugs your curves in a way you’re not entirely used to seeing on yourself. Your heels force your back to arch, highlighting the curve of your spine and the plump of your ass.
You give yourself a once-over in the mirror, hands coming down to tug the fabric further down your thighs. “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” You ask.
Yunjin clicks her tongue, and you can see her fighting with the straps of her own dress through the mirror. “Absolutely not. You look amazing. The guys are going to lose their minds when they see you in that.”
You raise a brow and turn around to face her. “Guys? Like, plural?”
“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, “Sunghoon and Heeseung.”
Sunghoon, yes. You’d love for him to notice you. But Heeseung? Absolutely not. You could seriously care less about what he thinks about you. He was there when you didn’t understand how to get rid of your acne and when makeup was more of a suggestion then something you actually did everyday.
“Ew, no,” you gag, “I don’t care what Lee Heeseung thinks about me. The only reason he’s even helping me is for his portfolio or whatever. He’s not doing it out of the kindness of his heart.”
Yunjin hums, smoothing out her dress and giving herself one final look over in the vanity mirror. She looks amazing–she always does. You aren’t jealous of Yunjin, but sometimes you wonder what it’d be like to have her confidence. “You seriously think he’s doing this just for his portfolio?”
“Um, yeah. That’s what he said.”
She walks over to you then, her chin resting on your shoulder. “I think–and don’t go nuclear on me for this–but I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”
A laugh bursts from your chest. That is the single most absurd thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Heeseung can barely stand being in the same room as you without having to get under your skin. He doesn’t like you, he just enjoys pissing you off.
“You’re funny,” you snort, “and so insanely wrong.”
She shrugs and takes a step back from you. “I don’t know, [Y/N]. I don’t know many guys who get into fake relationships with people they dislike just so they can finish their portfolio.”
Your phone buzzes from your bed, and when you pick it up you’ve got a text message from Heeseung saying he’s here.
“You don’t know many guys in general, Yunjin.” You retort. You quickly grab your purse and stuff your phone inside. “He’s here. Don’t say anything weird in the car, please. I think you’ve embarrassed me enough in the last two days to last a lifetime.”
“No promises,” she winks.
Heeseung's car isn’t super nice. It’s pretty typical for any college student, actually. There’s a scratch on the passenger side door and a dent on the hood, and it looks like it could definitely use a round through the car wash. But, despite that, the sight of it makes you nostalgic.
You remember when he pulled into your first day of Junior year with this thing. He bragged about it to anyone who would listen. He’d saved up the entire summer to buy it, and he treated the run down thing like it was his pride and joy. You wonder if that’s still the case today.
He’s leaning against your door when you step outside. Dirty blonde hair, backwards baseball cap, that same fucking smile. The sight alone is enough to irritate you.
But there’s a brief moment where the smile falters. His eyes trail over you, all the way from your heels to your eyes, and you swear you see his ears go the lightest shade of pink.
You raise a brow, but before you can comment on it the smile is back and he’s acting like nothing happened. “Nice dress,” he clicks his tongue, “I didn’t think you owned anything that didn’t look like it came from a librarian's closet.”
You hate him. You hate him so much it hurts your soul. It envelops your being like an ugly monster.
You want to tell him that, but you don’t, because at the end of the day he’s helping you for whatever reason, and your mother told you that hating people was inherently wrong. So, you swallow down your annoyance and make your way to his car. “Can we try and go one night without you being a dick?”
“I don’t know,” he smirks, “you’re the one dating this dick, princess.”
You frown and try not to think about the double meaning behind his words. “Fake dating,” you correct.
“Right. Fake dating.”
The tension between you is thick, and not in the way you’re used to. Instead, this feels like some sort of gravitational pull towards him. Something you’d kept buried that is trying to dig its way back from the grave.
Yunjin groans behind you. You’d nearly forgotten she was here. “God, can you guys just fuck already and get it over with? Your sexual tension is starting to make me jealous.”
“Yunjin!” You practically screech. Your hands gesture wildly as you attempt to defend yourself. “This is not–there is no sexual tension! That’s not what this is!”
She gives you a look that says: don’t make me call bullshit.
You sigh and run a hand over your eyes. “Just get in the car.”
The party is just outside of campus, in Jay Park's two-story home that he mysteriously pays for by himself. (Everyone knows he’s a trust fund baby.) There’s some stragglers outside, all holding red solo cups and trying to act drunker than they really are. You’ve never understood the appeal for parties. To you, they just look like sweat fests that people gaslight themselves into thinking are fun.
Yunjin gets out of the car as soon as you pull up and quickly makes her way over to some guy by the front door. You watch as she tries to talk to him, and for once he doesn’t look intimidated by her outgoing nature. It’s kind of cute, actually.
You, on the other hand, feel a bit sick. For one, you don’t know what you’re going to do when you see Sunghoon. Is he even going to care? Probably not. He literally has a fucking girlfriend, and here you are trying to show off for him like that’ll change anything.
“Hey,” Heeseung murmurs from beside you, his eyebrows knitted together in what you think might be concern. “You good?”
You blink. “I don’t know.” It’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.
He’s silent for a moment, before he’s letting out a breath and turning to you. “You look good, [Y/N]. Really fucking good. Don’t let a dress like that go to waste because you’re in your head.” He emphasizes his point with a gentle tap to your forehead. “Let’s go in there and show Sunghoon exactly what he lost, yeah?”
You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment, but you force the words to the back of your mind to be dwelled on later. Right now, you just need to get out of this car and get through tonight without wanting to explode. And, honestly, you do want to show Sunghoon what he’s missing out on.
“Okay,” you nod.
He grins. “Okay.”
Inside, the party is practically buzzing with people. There’s a few people you recognize, but it’s mostly randoms that you didn’t even realize you went to school with. That’s the thing about college; you’re always meeting someone new. Your high school was the complete opposite of that–you knew everyone in your graduating class on a personal level.
Heeseung keeps a hand on your lower back the entire time, and for some reason, you’re grateful for the subtle comfort it gives you. Like it’s a reminder that he’s here and that you aren’t going into this mess alone.
You eventually make your way over to the drinks, and Heeseung grabs a can of alcohol for himself and water for you. You raise a brow as he hands it to you. You hadn’t planned to drink, but him handing you water makes you feel like he’s treating you like some little kid.
“Actually,” you clear your throat, pointing towards the other beer can on top of the ice, “I’ll have that.”
He looks caught off guard for a moment, but then he shrugs and hands the can over to you. You open it with a pop and immediately take a swig. It goes down like tar against your tongue, and your nose scrunches in disgust.
He chuckles, “sure you don’t want the water?”
You really do. “I’m sure.”
Your eyes search the crowd for Sunghoon, and sure enough he’s here. He’s playing beer pong with some of his friends from the football team, and Chaewon is at his side cheering every time he scores. They look perfect for each other, and your heart squeezes painfully at the sight. Your hands shake as you take another gulp of your beer.
Heeseung taps your waist once, before he’s tugging you into his side and pulling you towards the dance floor. Alarm bells ring in your head as you weave through the crowd. You can’t dance, anytime you’ve tried you’ve embarrassed yourself so bad you’ve debated never showing your face in public again.
“Heeseung,” you attempt, “I can’t dance!”
“Neither can anyone else here. Besides, we can’t just sit in the corner and expect Sunghoon to care. If he’s having a good time, you need to be having an even better one.” He says easily.
You scoff as he comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, directly in Sunghoon's line of sight. Heeseung has always been able to make confidence look easy–like it’s something he was born with. You, on the other hand, are not like that. Your movements are awkward and you fumble to find a rhythm that doesn’t make you look like you’re on the verge of collapse.
“Wow,” he laughs, whistling lowly when you nearly trip over your own feet. “You weren’t kidding.”
Your eyes narrow as embarrassment flushes your cheeks. “I told you! God, I’m going back to the drinks–”
Before you can walk away, he catches your wrist with his hand and pulls you back towards him. Your chest nearly collides with his, and his face is suddenly so close you can practically taste his breath on yours.
“I’m not making fun of you, princess.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips, “just…observing.”
His voice is right beside your ear, and the proximity makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Suddenly, the room is too small and all you can think about is him. Sunghoon is a thought so distant in your mind you nearly forget you’d ever been thinking about him in the first place.
He brings his lips to your ear, his grip on your hips tightening the smallest bit. You wonder if he’s able to hear your heartbeat. If he can, does he know it’s beating so rapidly because of him?
“He’s looking,” he murmurs into your hair.
The call back to reality feels like a bucket of ice water against your spine. If Heeseung notices the way you tense, he doesn’t comment on it.
You clear your throat and try to ignore the way your voice shakes. “He is?”
“He was,” he grumbles with a click of his tongue. He pulls back so you can see his eyes, and for a moment you think he almost looks as wrecked as you feel. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Your eyes widen and you nearly choke on your own spit. “What?”
You barely have time to process before he’s bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, the other sliding to your spine and pulling you impossibly closer. You’re so close your noses are nearly touching, and his cedarwood cologne feels like it’s enveloping all of your senses.
“Trust me, okay?” He murmurs.
Later, you’ll say you don’t know how it happened. You’ll tell Yunjin that it all happened so fast and that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just helping you get Sunghoon's attention.
But the truth–the truth is that you want him to kiss you. You want him to take your breath away and for his hands to hold you like he’s afraid he’ll die without you.
And that scares you.
All you can manage is one simple word. “Okay.”
And then his mouth is on yours.
The kiss is awkward at first, more a peck than anything else, but he slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you closer and suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and he’s kissing you like you’re something precious.
Your hands slide to his chest instinctively, fists balling up the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. His breath mingles with yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth like you’re the best thing he’s tasted in years.
You can’t help the whine that slides from his lips when he pulls away, your own lips chasing his without your permission. It’s like your body's an addict and he’s your drug of choice.
Heeseung's lips are swollen and his pupils are completely blown, but you doubt you look much better. His tongue darts out to swipe at his lower lip, and then he’s smiling at you. But it’s not the teasing smile you’re used to or the one he gives everyone else. It’s softer. Real.
Your lips part to say something, anything, but then your thoughts go back to Sunghoon and what comes out instead is a soft, “did he see?”
Heeseungs smile immediately drops, and something akin to disappointment flashes over his face. You don’t know why the sight makes you cringe internally.
He glances up and nods his head. “Yeah,” he says, using his grip on your hips to turn you around, “he definitely saw.”
When you look, Sunghoon’s cheeks are pink and he’s staring directly at you. When he sees you looking, he’s quick to avert his gaze and try to act casually, but you know Sunghoon. He’s jealous.
This is a complete win.
So, why don’t you care as much as you should?
You should be ecstatic that Sunghoon’s feeling a certain way towards you. That’s the whole point of this stupid deal–to get Sunghoon back.
But when you turn back around and look at Heeseung, all you can think about is the way he smiled at you like you meant something to him. And how you hope he does it again.
It’s been a week since the kiss. A full week of acting like a couple. Holding hands on campus, cheek kisses in class, coffee dates at the cafe you used to frequent with Sunghoon.
It’s…weird. Somewhere along the way, you stopped hating Heeseung's general presence. Instead of a nemesis, he’s managed to turn himself into someone you don’t really mind having around. A frenemy, maybe. He’s funny, something you never cared enough to notice before, and he’s got this soft side to him that makes your heart melt the smallest bit.
“So,” Yunjin grins, taking a bite of her ramen. “Any word from Sunghoon?”
Your mouth goes dry at the mention of your apparent crush. In truth, you hadn't really thought about him at all. You used to go to sleep imagining it was Sunghoon next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and holding you like you were something fragile.
Now when you close your eyes at night, all you can think about is the way Heeseung's mouth felt against yours. The way his hands gripped your hips and held you close to him.
It takes everything in you to remember that Sunghoon is the goal. You’re just feeling this way because Heeseung kissed you. Once you have Sunghoon, you’ll get over it completely.
“Um,” you mumble, sinking further into your blankets, “not yet. But Heeseung said he saw him looking at us in the coffee shop the other day. That’s good, right?”
She turns to you, her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “It is. So why don’t you sound more excited?”
You immediately go on the defensive. “I am excited! I’m just…tired right now. It’s late, and I’ve been up since seven.”
“Whatever you say.”
In truth, you aren’t that excited. It’s nice that he’s thinking about you. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung are doing this anyway. So why can you not bring yourself to care more?
Your phone buzzes next to you, and you have to dig through your sheets to find it. When you do, the screen is lit up with a message from Heeseung.
Hey, it reads, got time to take some photos tomorrow? There’s this park just a little off campus that I think would be a good spot.
Right. The portfolio. You’d been so busy with yourself you nearly forgot you were supposed to be helping him as well.
Sure, you reply, what time?
It doesn’t take long for him to respond. I’ll pick you up at eleven. Wear something nice, please.
You heart the message and set your phone down. You aren’t sure what something nice is supposed to entail, but you’ll do your best.
The next morning, you’re waiting outside your dorm in an outfit that you deemed appropriate for the park while also being cute. It isn’t something you usually wear–the long skirt feels restricting and the jean vest is more form-fitting then you thought it would be, but Yunjin swore up and down that you looked great, so you’re choosing to believe her.
You rock back and forth on your feet while you wait, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Heeseung is never late, but today seems to be an exception to that.
You sigh, ready to turn around and go wait in your dorm, but the sound of your name catches you off guard.
When you look over, Sunghoon is walking over to you. He must’ve been on a run, because his arms are on full display in his sleeveless tank top. Usually, the sight would send your mind reeling. But now you barely even glance towards them.
“Hi, Sunghoon.”
He nods, coming to a stop a few feet in front of you. He’s close enough for you to see the moles on his face, but far enough that you can’t smell his usual expensive cologne. A complete opposite of Heeseungs soft cedarwood and linen.
Why the fuck are you thinking about Heeseungs cologne right now?
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says shyly, eyebrows knit together. “I’ve…missed hanging out with you.”
Your heart skips a beat, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Sorry,” you murmur with a shrug. “I’ve just been super busy lately. You know how it gets.” It’s not a lie, you have been busy. Just…busy with Heeseung.
He pauses, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He looks like he’s contemplating his next words, which is something you’ve never seen him do. It hurts a bit that your relationship has turned into this. Just a month ago the thought of ignoring Sunghoon would’ve seemed unfathomable. Both of you being in separate relationships (given yours is fake) would’ve been a complete joke. And yet here you are, talking like complete strangers.
“Yeah,” he says eventually, the words quiet and hesitant. “I’ve seen you and Heeseung around campus. I was a little surprised, honestly.”
Your response is dry. Bordering on the edge of annoyance. “Yeah. So was I.”
You both know you’re not talking about Heeseung. For a moment, he almost looks regretful.
“[Y/N]-”
“Hey.”
You didn’t even notice Heeseung's beat up Honda pull onto your street, nor notice him walk out of it. He’s dressed casually in a Decalis University sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. His camera hangs off his neck and rests against his stomach, and his hand instinctively hovers over it as he approaches.
Relief floods your chest at the sight of him. You don’t know why. It must be some kind of hormonal thing.
Sunghoon takes a step back like he’s trying to put up an invisible wall between you. The two live together, and yet the tension radiating off of them makes you wonder what their living situation must be like right now. Jake must be in a constant state of stress.
“You’re late,” you murmur.
Heeseung smiles, his hand reaching for yours and pulling your wrist to his mouth. He leaves a soft kiss on your inner wrist, and your cheeks flare at the gesture.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against your skin. “Traffic.”
You fold immediately. “It’s fine. I was just worried.”
Sunghoon must sense that he’s no longer wanted, because he murmurs a soft goodbye and makes a swift exit. You watch as he jogs away, his forming growing smaller and smaller, and it doesn’t hurt like it used to. It just feels like…nothing. You look back to Heeseung, and any tension you had melts.
“What was that about?” He asks.
You shrug. “Was just saying hello.”
“And?”
You raise a brow. “And what?”
“Did he say anything about me? About our relationship?”
Oh. Right. You’re in love with Sunghoon.
“Oh,” you clear your throat and attempt to act like you hadn’t completely forgotten your deal. “Yeah, he did. I think he’s jealous, but he’s still with Chaewon, so does it even really matter?”
“Trust me, it does.” He snorts, leading you over to his car. “He was talking to Jake last night about how he apparently isn’t feeling any sparks with Chaewon. He wants to break up with her.”
That’s good. That’s what you wanted. You should be ecstatic and your heart should be fluttering in your chest. Instead, all you feel is a cold pang of disappointment.
“Good! That's great. Amazing, even.” You say, attempting to sound the littlest bit excited, but it just comes off flat and dull. Like you’re talking about an assignment and not the boy you’ve been in love with for months.
He gives you a side-eye as he opens the passenger door for you, and you slip in like it’s second nature. At this point, it is. “You don’t sound too excited,” he observes.
You’re not, but you can’t say that. “I’m just shocked, I guess. I don’t understand why he even got with Chaewon in the first place if he didn’t feel anything for her. It’s kind of…mean.”
Heeseung takes a second to respond as he climbs into the driver's seat. He wordlessly hands you his phone and lets you put on your playlist–something you hadn’t even realized was an option. You play Ariana Grande and watch as Heeseung tries to act like he doesn’t enjoy it.
“Sunghoons always been like that,” he says eventually. “He’s impulsive. Doesn’t think about what he’s doing until he’s regretting it and trying to act like he’s not.”
“Why?”
Heeseung shrugs, glancing at you from the corner of his eye for a split second before going back to the road. “Don’t know. It’s just how he is.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek and look out the window. The campus passes by in a blur, people walking to class together, pigeons scavenging for any scraps they can get, the lecture hall you walk to every morning. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
You look back to Heeseung, and instead of annoyance, you get the same feeling you do when you’re looking at campus. Familiarity. Comfort. And it scares you so much your throat nearly constricts.
“Well,” you croak, running a hand through your hair, “that’s stupid. And all it does is hurt the people around him.”
“Yeah,” he agrees softly, “it does.”
You don’t talk the rest of the car ride, and you’re thankful for it. Your mind is too alert for conversation right now. You can smell his cologne, can hear him humming along to Needy by Ariana Grande, can feel his presence consuming your very soul. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
You don’t hate Lee Heeseung. Because your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love, and that is the last thing you feel for the boy you grew up with.
When you arrive at the park, you’re entirely too eager to get out of the car. You barely wait for him to park before you’re practically stumbling out of your seat with the ordinance of a baby giraffe.
Heeseung gives you a look, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just directs you to where he wants to go with confidence. His hand hovers at your lower back–never touching–just there. Like he’s unsure of what to do with himself when you’re not around your friends and having to keep up your act.
You don’t comment on it.
Eventually, he takes you to a small pond in the middle of the park. There’s white lilies around the water, each of them dancing in the wind while the water flows around them. The sun is bright, shining in your eyes and making you squint slightly. It’s pretty beautiful, actually. You had no idea this place was so close to your campus.
Heeseung directs you on how to pose. How to smile like you have no idea you’re being watched. It’s awkward at first, mostly because the only time you’ve ever had someone take pictures of you like this was during your high school graduation, but it doesn’t take long for the tension to ease into something softer. Easier.
He tells you to sit on the grass and tilt your head towards the pond–but each shot he gets just doesn’t feel right.
“Maybe lean more towards the left?” He mumbles, hand flying out to gesture at you. You do as he says, but apparently, he’s still not getting the shot he wants.
He clicks his tongue in frustration, “no–that’s not–just–let me fix you.”
You furrow your brows. What does that even mean? “You don’t need to fix me, Heeseung–”
He interrupts you with a laugh. “Not like that, idiot. God, you’re always so defensive.”
You part your lips to retort, but before the words can get out, he’s walking towards you and your chin is in his hand, and you suddenly forget how to communicate entirely.
He tilts your head where he wants it, the pink of his tongue poking out the tiniest bit. His face is so close that it takes everything in you to not remember how he’d tasted when his tongue was in your mouth.
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you let him do what he needs to.
“There, that’s the angle.”
“You couldn’t have just told me to tilt my chin up?”
He smiles and goes back to his camera. “I did, princess. You just don’t listen.”
God, he’s so annoying.
But still, your lips curve up and your heart gets that same feeling it did at the party. The one that you’re not quite ready to name.
“Do we really have to go to this brunch?” You groan, flopping down onto your bed. “Sunghoon and Chaewon are going to be there, and I really don’t feel like watching them be all over each other.”
Yunjin shakes her head, “that’s exactly why we have to go. So that you and Heeseung can do it right back to them.”
“They already saw us kiss! What more do we have to do? Feed each other and do that weird baby talk bullshit couples do?”
Yunjin gags and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what couples you’re talking to, but please tell them I said to stop doing that immediately. But, no, that’s not what I meant. How is it going to look if everyone's there except for you and Heeseung?”
“Um, fine? No one’s going to care.”
“It’s going to look suspicious. Everyone knows you had a thing for Sunghoon before he popped out with Chaewon. You and Heeseung need to prove to everyone–not just Sunghoon–that you’re actually in love.”
You sigh. You know she’s right, you just hate it. Why do you need to prove your fake relationship to your friends? It feels wrong. It feels like lying.
Actually, it is lying.
“I hate lying to everyone,” you sigh, hugging your pillow to your chest. “Makes me feel like a bad friend.”
“You’re not a bad friend,” Yunjin reassures, rolling her chair over to you. It gets caught on the rug for a moment, but she’s quick to force the wheels to move again. “Besides, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
You give her a look. “That’s like, the worst advice you’ve ever given me.”
She chuckles, “sorry I’m not well versed in the art of therapy for fake dating. I’ll make sure to switch my degree to better accommodate you.”
“That would actually be great, thank you.”
She takes in a breath, her hand reaching for yours. “Just…don’t think of it as lying. Think about it like two friends helping each other out.”
“He’s not my friend.” You scoff, but the words don’t hold any bite behind them. Not like they used to, at least.
Yunjin grins knowingly. “Yeah, he is.”
You don’t bother correcting her again.
Brunch is at noon at that diner off of fifth. The same one you’d gone to when this entire mess started. The same one you’d started falling in love with Sunghoon at. It’s weird now, seeing how much your life has changed in the short amount of time since you were last here.
You have a fake boyfriend now. You don’t talk to Sunghoon. Your life feels like it’s falling apart and coming back together all at once.
You and Heeseung sit next to each other wordlessly, both of you more cautious about touching. It feels like there’s enough space between your leg and his to fill out the Grand Canyon. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.
Sunghoon holds Chaewon's hand under the table, and their shoulders brush every time they move. It’s irritating and annoying and you strangely enough couldn’t care less about it. That sense of jealousy you’d felt the last time you were here no longer spills over your guts like acid, instead you feel nothing.
You try to force yourself to remember what you’d liked about Sunghoon. He’s kind. Smart. Dedicated. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.
But he’s not…
“Honestly,” Jake says between spoonfuls of biscuits and gravy, “when Yunjin told us you guys were seeing each other, I thought she was lying. I mean, you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without having some kind of argument.”
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear nervously, “yeah. I was pretty surprised too.”
You don’t miss the way Heeseung cracks a smile at that. “It was kind of sudden, but I'm glad it happened.” He says easily, “means I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her.”
You can tell he hadn’t meant to say that last part, because his eyes go wide and he tenses for a second. Not long enough for anyone to catch it, but you do. You see the way fear flashes behind his irises for a moment, the way his breath catches before filling out his chest once again.
Sunghoons throat bobs as he swallows, dark eyes darting between the two of you slowly. “Pretending?” He asks cautiously, like he’s testing the words on his tongue.
But you don’t care about Sunghoon. All you can think about is what Heeseung said. I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her. Is he being honest? Or is this all just a part of your act? You hate that you can’t tell.
“Uh,” he laughs nervously, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “When we were in school, I didn't know how to get her attention. She was smart and kind and friends with everyone, and I was just…there. She used to do this thing in kindergarten where she’d wait for everyone else to fall asleep during naptime before she did because she didn’t want anyone to have to sit there alone, and I remember thinking she must’ve been sent by some kind of angel.” He laughs then, a genuine one. The kind that lights up his entire face.
You hadn’t even remembered you did that, but it’s true. You did. It always just felt like the right thing to do, but the fact that he remembers it all these years later makes you feel almost dizzy.
“I think it was in third grade when I figured the best way to get her attention was to piss her off,” he continues. “I don’t know why. But I spent the next ten or more years making sure I annoyed her to the best of my ability. I think I just decided that I’d rather have her hate me than not have her in my life at all.”
The table is silent aside from the people talking around you. They’re all having normal conversations while you're going through the biggest existential crisis of your life. You understand that this is supposed to be fake–but that didn’t feel like something he made up on the spot. It felt like he was finally coming clean about something that’d been sitting on his chest for years. And if that’s true, where does that leave you?
“Heeseung…” You attempt, eyes searching the side of his face. When he turns to you, he looks more sincere than you’ve ever seen him. His hand reaches for yours under the table and he intertwines his fingers with yours. The hold is gentle, soft, right. It feels like you’re exactly where you were always supposed to be.
“Sorry,” he laughs, turning back to the group. “That was kind of sappy.”
“Nah, man, that was beautiful.” Jake murmurs, bringing a hand up to his chest. “I’m happy for you guys, seriously.”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon nods, “you guys are good for each other.” He looks resigned. Like he’s accepting defeat. It makes something click in your brain.
For the first time in your life, you think you’re starting to see Heeseung exactly for who he is.
You don’t notice the way he looks at Sunghoon. Or how he swallows back his pride and comes to terms with what he knows he has to do.
You don't comment when he pulls his hand away from you, you just assume it's because he wants to be able to properly eat his food.
When brunch is over, you say your goodbyes to everyone with a pep in your step. You know that telling Heeseung how you’re feeling might complicate things, but he basically just confessed that he remembered things you did in kindergarten. You don’t remember that kind of stuff unless it means something, right?
“I’ll walk you back to your dorm?” He murmurs next to you, and you nod.
“I’d like that.”
There’s tension in the air as you walk, one that you’re practically dying to address. But Heeseung doesn’t look like he did in the diner. He looks conflicted, scared–he keeps his eyes ahead and his hands shoved into his pockets. Nothing like the bright boy you’d been sitting next to barely an hour ago.
“Are you okay?” You ask, voice soft.
He doesn’t even glance at you. “I’m fine.”
“Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?” You attempt to joke, but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he pauses on the sidewalk, and you barely get a few feet in front of him when you notice he’s stopped.
“What’s going on, Heeseung?” You attempt again, reaching for his hand. He pulls it back so sharply you nearly flinch.
“I think…I think we need to stop.” He says finally.
Your heart drops. “What? Why? Did I–Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"
“No, no, it’s not–” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, “fuck, it’s not you.”
You raise a brow. He’s not making any sense. He wants to stop now? After what he said in the diner? “Then what is it?” You snap.
He shakes his head like the words are too painful to speak. “You like Sunghoon, [Y/N], and he’s going to break up with Chaewon soon. I got the pictures I needed for the competition. There’s no reason to drag this on any longer than we already have.”
His words shouldn’t feel like a breakup, but they do. God, they do. They feel like he’s pulling away from you after you’ve finally come to terms with what you feel for him. “What about what you said in the diner?” You ask finally, voice breaking. “I can’t just act like that didn’t happen, Heeseung. Not when I’m finally–I’m finally…” The words get caught in your throat, but you both know exactly what you mean by them.
His hands squeeze into fists at his side. “That didn’t mean anything, [Y/N].” he says lowly, like breaking your heart is something he does daily. Maybe it was and you just never noticed before. “It was just helping the act. Keeping up the lie. That’s all.”
Tears come to your waterline, the back of your throat beginning to ache from the force of it. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he says firmly, but you can see the way his eyes are beginning to turn glassy. “I really do.”
He turns on his heel then, leaving you alone on the sidewalk and turning his back onto whatever fucked up thing it is you’ve built together.
Your mother used to say that hate and love were synonymous. You know now that she was wrong.
Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with pure, unadulterated hate.
Your phone chimes, and when you check the notification, what you see doesn't make you feel good. It doesn't bring joy to your heart or make you want to skip down the street. Instead, it makes your heart break a little bit more.
Yunjin: Sunghoon just broke up with Chaewon. We’re so in
You should be happy. This is exactly what you wanted, right?
So why do you feel like you just lost the one thing that mattered the most?
You haven’t talked to Heeseung in three weeks. He transferred out of your shared class–something you didn’t even know was possible this late into the semester–and stopped showing up to any group hangouts. Not that you care, obviously.
The both of you said your breakup was mutual. That the stress of school and work just didn’t make a relationship possible, but there weren’t any hard feelings. Jake had raised a brow at the entire thing, but ultimately accepted it without a word.
But, Sunghoon seeing the both of you being single at the same time again, decided that meant he could shoot his shot. Which is good–it was the entire point of this entire thing, right?
Sunghoon is nice. He holds the door open for you and he pays for your meals and he takes you back to that coffee shop the both of you loved so much.
He is perfect for you in every sense.
But when he sits next to you, you don’t feel that same spark low in your belly. When he makes a joke, you don’t laugh until you swear you’re going to run out of oxygen. He doesn’t look at you like you mean something to him.
Yunjin's not dumb, she knows something's wrong. Just a few months ago you would’ve been ecstatic at the idea of going on dates with Sunghoon, so why do you seem like you couldn’t care less about him now?
“Are you okay?” She asks, voice filled with concern. “You’ve been…distant.”
“I’m fine,” you answer a bit too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don't know, why don’t you tell me?”
You blink, turning to look at her in your mirror. You’re in the middle of getting ready for you and Sunghoons third date. He told you to dress nicely for dinner, but all you can think about is the fact that Heeseung would be presenting his pictures for the contest tonight. You didn’t even get to see them, which is more annoying than anything else.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yunjin.” You lie.
She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and making her way over to you. She smooths down the hem of your skirt without a second thought. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me but, if it’s because of Heeseung–”
“It’s not.”
“–If it’s because of Heeseung, then I’d understand.”
You freeze, eyes snapping to hers. You never told her about the last conversation you’d had with Heeseung, because you figured there wasn’t really any point. He’d “broken up” with you, and that was that. It doesn't mean anything else.
You want Sunghoon. You know you do. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung came up with that stupid plan in the first place. You aren’t going to throw away a good guy because you’d gotten confused.
“It’s not,” you lie again, “I’m just stressed with finals and stuff. That’s all.”
Yunjin obviously doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame her, of course. You’ve always been an awful liar.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re already dreading what she’s going to say. Every time Yunjin goes silent, it always means she’s going to say something that you probably don’t want to hear.
“You know,” she starts, voice soft and low, “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him.”
You freeze, a shiver rushing down your spine like ice cold water. “What?”
“I just mean–” She backtracks for a moment before deciding to just say it, “you never look at Sunghoon the way you looked at Heeseung. You looked…happy with him. Like, actually happy. Not just because you thought you were supposed to be, but because you actually felt it.”
You go silent at that. You were happy. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it–even if you were fighting it for whatever reason. “I’m happy with Sunghoon.” You say with finality, but you both hear how your voice shakes.
“If you say so,” she sighs, turning back and sitting at her desk. “What’re you guys doing tonight?”
You’re grateful for the change in topic. “He’s taking me to dinner,” you shrug, clipping on your earrings. “Somewhere fancy, I guess.”
She hums. “Do you think he’s going to kiss you tonight?”
God, I really, really hope not.
“I hope so,” you answer instead. Maybe kissing Sunghoon will be exactly what you need to get your mind off of him. “I think I’ve waited long enough.” You laugh, but it’s weak. Dishonest.
Yunjin frowns at the sound of it, but she doesn’t push. “Yeah,” she mumbles, “me too.”
Sunghoon arrives at five on the dot. Just like he said he would. You should’ve been watching the clock because you were excited for him to get here, but instead all you could think about every time you glanced at it was how nervous Heeseung must be right now. The contest starts at seven, which means he finds out in the next two hours if he wins the money. Your hand twitches at your side. You want to text him and say good luck, but you don’t.
“You look beautiful,” Sunghoon says. He’s all dark hair and dark eyes, not a single hair out of place. His suit looks expensive, and you wonder if he bought it just for the occasion. That definitely feels like something he would do.
“Thank you,” you respond, hoping he doesn’t see how fake your smile is. “You clean up pretty nicely as well.”
“I try,” he jokes, outstretching his arm for you. You take it easily, but it doesn’t feel right in your palm. It’s sturdy, easy. But, it doesn’t have any of that fire that you think it should.
Sunghoon is a gentleman the entire night. He takes you to eat, makes corny jokes, kisses your knuckles with pink cheeks. And it’s good. It’s so, so good. It’s exactly what you’ve always wanted.
But when you close your eyes, it’s not Sunghoon you see.
It’s dirty blonde hair covered by some ratty baseball cap. It’s that fucking teasing smile that you used to hate seeing. It’s watching him grow up and having him remember things about you that you’d completely forgotten about.
It’s him. Heeseung.
Sunghoon leads you to your front door nervously, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to get some kind of read on you. You wonder if he can see that your heart isn’t here–that it never was.
“I had a good time tonight,” he says, lips curling up into a soft smile. “I hope it was the same for you.”
“I…” Your words catch in your throat. You know what the logical thing would be to do right now. Accept his compliments, kiss him sweetly, go into your room giddy and wait for him to text you. But it’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.
“Sunghoon,” you start, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He’s silent for a split second, like he’s trying to process your words. “Why?” He asks, “Did something happen? Did I–Did I do something?”
God, you wish he had. That would make this entire thing so much easier.
“No,” you laugh wetly, “It’s not you. It’s–it’s me.” You know it’s cliche, but it's true. Because while you should’ve been enjoying him tonight, all you could think about was Heeseung. About the way he’d kissed you at the party. About how he always looked at you like there was more he wanted to say but he just never knew how.
Sunghoon blinks, his eyebrows knitting together and creasing his forehead. “What?”
“You’re perfect, Sunghoon.” you start, the words flowing out of you like you’re finally admitting them to yourself. “And for a long time, you were everything I ever wanted. You went to the cafe with me. You invited me to your games. I thought–I thought that I’d finally found the person I was meant to be with.”
“I–I don’t understand,” he murmurs, “Is that not how you feel anymore?”
Your heart constricts as you shake your head. “I wanted to. I really, really tried to remind myself of how I felt for you before. But…”
It takes him a second, but you see the exact moment recognition flashes across his face. He takes a step back from you, lips falling into a straight line. “But I’m not him.”
You can’t help the sob that rips from your throat. “I’m so sorry, Sunghoon.”
You half expect him to yell, maybe flip you off and drive off in his Porsche while he gets Chaewon on speed dial. But he doesn’t. He stands there for a long moment, breathing slowly, tongue poking the inside of his cheek every now and then.
And then he looks up at you, at the tears staining your cheeks, at how the honesty ripped out of you like a force of nature. He checks his watch–6:50 pm. Ten minutes before the contest starts.
“Come on,” he says, already jogging to the driver's seat.
You’re frozen, watching him with wide eyes. Did he not hear what you just said? “Sunghoon–”
He gives you a look so sharp it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. “We’ve got ten minutes to make it to that contest, and unfortunately, I’m not very big on breaking traffic laws. So, hurry up and get in!”
You gawk at him, a smile curling onto your lips, but you run into his car, nevertheless.
He was right, he’s not big on breaking traffic laws. But you see he’s going five over the speed limit compared to his usual three, and that feels like it counts for something. Even though you’d been leading him on for the past three weeks, he’s still trying to make sure you’re happy. He’s still looking out for you.
“Thank you,” you sniffle. And you truly mean it.
His gaze stays glued to the road. "Don't mention it.”
You arrive at the photography center with two minutes to spare. Sunghoon doesn't even let you say bye, just rushes you out of the car and wishes you good luck. You don’t look back as you run inside.
You’re thankful you at least dressed nicely for the date, because everyone in here looks like they come from money. Women in floorlength gowns, men in suits you’re sure cost more than your entire tuition. These must be the donors.
The hall is filled with pictures, some simple–some you think you have to be involved in the community to understand. But even as you practically sprint down the hallway, Heeseung is nowhere to be found.
“Please make your way to the dining hall as the photography committee prepares to announce the winner of this year's $100,000 grant!” A voice rings from the intercom, and you blindly follow the crowd into the large room parallel to the hall.
It’s filled with tables, and there’s a stage right at the front of the room with a podium and a giant projector. There’s nothing on it yet, but you’re assuming that’s where they’ll show the winning portfolio.
The tables all have name cards, so you do your best to conspicuously make your way to the back where nobody will notice you standing awkwardly. Plus, from back here it’ll be easier to try and find Heeseung.
You study the crowd, looking for the familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty. For a second, you wonder if he’s even here. He has to be here, you think. This is everything to him.
But every time someone new walks in, it’s never him.
You rock back and forth on your feet, a nervous habit. Pretty soon all the chairs are filled out and Heeseung is still nowhere to be seen. You wonder if he’d dropped out of the contest, but that still wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he drop out when photography was so important to him?
You reach for your phone, half tempted to call him and ask where the hell he was, but the lights dim and the president of the photography committee walks up the podium. She’s an older woman, with pin straight grey hair and huge glasses. She has to pull down the microphone to match her height. Heeseung used to joke that even though she looked like she belonged in a Disney movie, she was the toughest mentor he’d ever had.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she starts, voice light. “We had many great admissions this year. All of which I personally took the time to look through, and let me tell you, there was some tough competition. I almost threw up my hands and gave the money to everyone!”
The crowd laughs at that, but you can tell it’s just them being polite. “But, unfortunately, we can’t do that. So, after many sleepless nights and lots of talks with the committee, I was able to come to a decision. This year's winner is someone I think has put in more effort into his photos than anyone else I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. He’s not naturally talented, no, but he’s dedicated. He takes risks. He tries new things and doesn’t shy away when they don’t work.”
The projector begins to come to life. “As you know, this year's theme was muse. The participants were meant to find a singular person and put together a portfolio of said person.”
The first photo flashes against the screen–and your breath catches in your throat. It's you. But it’s not the ones from the park, no, it’s you in class. Your pencil is in between your lips; brows scrunched together the way they always are when you get frustrated. You’re not wearing any makeup–hell, you look like you just rolled out of bed!
Your breath catches as the photos continue. Some of you in class, in the diner, at that God forsaken party. All pictures that look old and new at the same time. You can tell some are from after this entire mess started, when you and Heeseung started to actually enjoy each other's presence. You look happier in those ones.
But there’s some from before too–when the only times you ever thought about Heeseung were when you were thinking about how much you can’t stand him. Those ones are mostly you in class, all of them shot from the same angle. There’s a few of you from group hangouts, and you wonder how you never noticed him taking them. Maybe it’s because you’re just so used to seeing him with his camera that you stopped noticing it entirely.
It’s the last photo that really gets you though. It’s from the park, you’re sitting in the grass, head tilted to the side, lips curling up into a soft smile. You’re looking into the camera–or, behind it actually–directly at Heeseung, and the look in your eyes is enough to knock the breath from your lungs.
You look like you’re in love.
“This year's winner–though I doubt anyone's surprised–Is Lee Heeseung!”
You barely register her words, because all you can see is Heeseung walking up onto the stage. So that’s where he was, you think.
He’s wearing a suit, though it doesn’t look nearly as nice as everyone else's here. His dirty blonde hair is actually styled for once, and his lips are curled up into a small smile. But it’s not the one you’re used to seeing. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, doesn’t make his face light up like it usually does. Despite winning, he looks almost sad.
He gives a small bow at the podium, shaking hands with the Committee President. He looks nervous as he comes up to the mic, and you squeeze your hands together. Does he want you here? Should you try and make your presence known?
You are the girl in his photos, after all.
“Wow,” he starts, voice shaking slightly. “This is…an honor. Really. I didn’t go into this contest thinking I would win. In fact, I wasn’t going to enter at all. Not until I realized I’d already accidentally found my muse.” He laughs then, but it’s short. “I entered for selfish reasons. Not for the money. Not so that I could get my photos in international shows. But, because I wanted an excuse to get closer to her.”
His eyes scan the crowd, until finally, they land on you. His eyes widen for a moment, lips parting in shock. For a moment, you think he wants you to leave. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.
But he smiles. Really smiles. “None of this would’ve been possible without her.” He continues now, voice more confident. “These photos would’ve sat tucked away in my camera forever. But she made me confident. She reminded me of why I love photography in the first place. So, I’m dedicating this grant to her. To my muse.” His eyes find yours again. “My [Y/N].”
You don’t get a chance to go up to Heeseung until after all of the sponsors have congratulated him, which admittedly takes a lot longer than you think either of you would like.
You can see him on stage, shaking hands with people who you assume must be important. He never keeps his eyes on them for too long. Instead, they trail over to you, like he’s hoping he’ll be able to communicate with you through eye contact.
By the time you can actually speak to him, the hall is mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. He approaches you with caution, like he’s scared of getting too close.
“Hi,” he breathes, stopping a few feet in front of you.
“Hi,” you say back.
The air is softer than it had been the last time you’d seen him. Then, it was harsh. Like smoke filling into your lungs. Now, it feels like a breath of fresh air.
You’re both silent for a moment, like you’re unsure of what to say to each other.
“I broke it off with Sunghoon,” you say eventually, eyes falling to the floor.
He blinks. “You did?”
“I did.”
“Okay.”
More silence.
“You took pictures of me,” you observe.
“I did.”
“Why?”
He laughs, a full hearty sound, like he’s caught off guard by the question. You don’t know why he would be. You think it’s a perfectly fair thing to ask.
He shrugs, “I felt inspired by you.”
You raise a brow at that. “Inspired? By what—me chewing my pencil like a child?”
He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. I was inspired by how I felt when I looked at you.”
That makes you pause. “What?”
He fiddles with the corner of his pocket, thumb grazing it once before darting away. He sucks in a deep breath, and then finally, he says everything you know he’s been holding back.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were six years old,” he starts. “Ever since I watched you stay up the entire nap time because Jungwon couldn’t fall asleep. I knew right then and there that I loved you and that I was going to continue to love you for as long as I knew you.”
You can’t help the way your eyes go glassy, heart thumping a million miles an hour in your chest. “Heeseung…”
He doesn’t let you finish. “But I was shy—well, scared is more like it—I was scared that you weren’t going to want to be my friend and I would never be able to be around you.”
“Why would you think that?”
He shrugs, “why does a third grader think anything?”
You don’t have a reply for that.
He sighs before continuing. “After that it just…became a thing. Our thing. I annoyed you and therefore I got to keep being in your life. Even if it wasn't what I wanted, I figured it was better than not being around you at all.” He swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But then we got to university and you met Sunghoon and I felt you slipping away from me, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought that maybe…maybe it was time for me to let you go.”
Your heart cracks at the strain in his voice, like he’s recalling a bad memory.
“So, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Jake came home and started asking me a million questions about our apparent relationship.”
“Oh, God,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. At the time, it’d genuinely felt like the end of the world. Now, you really can’t imagine where your life would be without Yunjin's lie.
For starters, he probably would’ve never told you this, and you would’ve gone your entire life chopping up your relationship to nothing but a high school rivalry that didn’t have any deeper meaning. You would’ve never found out he felt this way—or that you feel the way you do.
“It was good,” he starts again, “pretending. Even though it wasn’t really pretending for me. And then we went to that diner and I just…I got scared. I didn’t want to hold you back from what you really wanted. I thought, she’s hated me for years, at least now she’ll have an actual reason. And I wanted to be okay with that. I really did.” He takes a step closer. “But now you’re here. And I think I know why, but I’m getting tired of assuming things, princess. So, I think you’ll have to tell me.”
You suck in a shaky breath, your own hands fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously. “I…tried. With Sunghoon. I thought it was what I wanted, the easiness of it all. He was kind and he made bad jokes and I thought I was content with that.”
You roll your eyes, “But then you happened.” You say it like it’s an insult, but you both know it’s not. “And every time I was with him all I could think was how his car didn’t have that mysterious dent in the front. How he didn’t let me play pop music and pretend he wasn’t singing along when we both knew he was. How he didn't make me feel like I actually meant something to him.”
Your eyes find his for the first time since he approached you tonight. “All I could think about was how he wasn’t you.”
For a brief second, the only noise between the two of you is your breathing and the faint hum of people around you. Heeseung's lips part, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes in your confession. He’s silent for so long you nearly think you overstepped.
But then he’s taking a step towards you and cradling your jaw with his hand. You don’t move away.
“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” He says, and the familiarity of his words brings a smile to your face.
“Okay. I trust you.”
And then his lips are on yours.
This kiss is different from the first one. It’s not hungry, not a performance for anyone else. This kiss is solely for you, for the love you’ve found and never plan on losing. It tastes like him and feels exactly like coming home.
His thumb rubs the apple of your cheek, his lips moving against yours slowly. He doesn’t use tongue, but you don’t need him to.
When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours and brings his hands down to your waist. They feel heavy against you, like a claim you never knew you needed.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs.
You giggle, bringing your own arms up to wrap around his neck. “Have you?”
“Yeah,” he responds, “along with…other things.”
You raise a brow at that, “yeah? Like what?”
That’s exactly how you end up back at his apartment, his lips moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize your body with them. Jake and Sunghoon are out thankfully, which means you’ve got the entire apartment to yourself.
Heeseung leads you blindly to his room, never once turning away from you or attempting to look where he’s going. You laugh as he trips over the carpet, but he swallows it with his mouth on yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says against you. You don’t even notice you’ve made it into your bedroom before your legs hit the mattress and suddenly, he’s pulling you down onto it. “Been waiting so long to have you like this.”
“Yeah?” You manage to say, your voice airy. “Show me, then.”
He pulls back for a moment, eyes looking directly into yours, and then he’s moving his lips to your neck. He leaves wet kisses down the column of your throat, your shoulder, sucking marks into the delicate skin of your collarbone.
His teeth graze a particular spot at your neck that makes you gasp, and he processes the noise with a slight groan of his own. He bites down on the spot–not hard, just enough for your back to arch and your fingers to find purchase in his hair. Your legs wrap around his waist as his tongue shoots out to soothe the bite.
Slowly, he brings a hand up to the strap of your dress, his fingers slipping under it but never pulling down.
“Hee,” you practically whine, “please.”
He grins, and then he pulls the strap down ever so slowly. You know he’s teasing you, and the thought makes heat pool between your legs.
Once the dress is off, he throws it to the side and sits back on his heels so he can stare at you. You still have your underwear and bra on, but the sight of your bare stomach and legs is enough for him to let out a low whistle.
“You’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmurs. The sincerity in his voice makes your cheeks hot. “So fucking perfect.”
Your lips part to respond, but he leans down and kisses you again. This kiss is different from all the others. It’s messy and deep and pulls noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make.
He sucks on your bottom lip once, and then he pulls away and leaves kisses all down your body. Down your neck, your cloth-covered breasts, your stomach, all the way down until he leaves one final kiss at your ankle.
He seats himself at the edge of the bed and ever-so-gently pulls you down so your legs hang over the edge of the bed and your cunt is level with his face. He stares at it for a long moment, at the wet patch growing on the lace. At your pretty white panties.
Your hands fist the sheets, legs nearly closing on instinct, but he just pushes them over his shoulders and keeps you open for him. “Don’t hide from me,” he mumbles. His hand slowly trails up your thigh until it finds the edge of your underwear.
He keeps it there for what feels like forever. Never touching. Just looking.
“Please,” you whimper, “please touch me.”
He grins, “yeah? Want my mouth on you, baby?”
You nod, hips rolling against nothing. “Yes, fuck, please.”
That seems to finally break him, because he licks one large stripe up your cunt through your underwear. You gasp at the feeling, your back arching slightly.
He continues licking small kitten-licks over your panties, and the mixture of his saliva and your arousal begins to turn the cloth nearly translucent.
He groans like the taste of you is his favorite meal. “You taste so good,” he murmurs against you, “like heaven.”
You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out when his tongue catches your clit, and then he brings his hands up to your waist and pulls your underwear down your legs. You don’t miss the way he stares at them for a second before letting them drop to the floor.
He spits on your cunt, watching the way his saliva drips down your slit before he sucks your clit into his mouth.
You cry out at the feeling, your toes curling at his back. He groans at the taste and brings his hands up to your hips, gripping them and keeping them still.
“Fuck,” you moan when he brings his tongue down to your hole, collecting the arousal there like it's his own personal ambrosia.
“All this is for me, right?” He questions, trailing a hand down and rubbing his thumb against your clit. The feeling has your head spinning. “Not for Sunghoon, all for me, isn’t that right, princess?”
You nod feverishly, his possessiveness nearly enough to make you finish right there and then. “Yours! ‘S all yours.”
He smirks, “that’s a good girl.”
And then he brings a finger to your entrance, circling over it once before letting it slip inside the ring of muscle. The air punches from your lungs at the feeling, but then he sucks your clit into his mouth again while his finger thrusts into you and you really think you’re going to start seeing stars.
“Hee–Heeseung,” you cry, “fuck!”
He hums but doesn’t stop. Instead, he pushes a second finger inside and begins to curl them upwards. You feel him hit that spongey spot inside of you and you know you’re done for.
“I’m close–fuck,”
He doesn’t work you harder, just keeps going at the pace so he can drag out your orgasm for as long as possible. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Show me just how bad you want it.”
That’s all it takes for you to release all over his face and hand. Your muscles tighten and relax over and over again, back arching and vision going white. He groans and licks up every drop, working you through it without a complaint.
You expect him to stop now that you’ve finished, but he doesn’t. If anything, he goes harder. The overstimulation begins to border on the edge of too much, and your hips buck up without your permission.
“Fuck, too much, I cant–”
He doesn’t let up. “Yeah, you can. Come on, wanna see you fall apart for me all over again.”
It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to crash over you, and this one nearly leaves your body feeling limp and your pulse to blare against your ears.
Your body is still twitching from aftershocks when he climbs up next to you, and you watch with blurry vision as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean. He hums at the taste and then brings his hands to the hem of his shirt and slips it off.
Your eyes trail over the sight of his bare chest, noting every ridge of muscle and mole, watching the way his chest heaves slightly. He’s absolutely beautiful, like a painting you’d find at some stupidly expensive art show.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmur.
Now it’s his turn to blush. His ears and cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, but he brings his lips down to yours before you can tease him for it.
Before you know it, his underwear is off and he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He looks up to you for permission, and you nod at him.
Pressure blooms between your legs as he pushes in, but it isn’t exactly painful. It just feels like something you never knew you needed. Like he was made exactly for you.
You keen, back bowing off the bed and eyebrows knitting together. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and rests his forehead against yours as he finally bottoms out.
You can feel him kissing your g-spot, and he experimentally rolls his hips against yours once. You both groan at the feeling of you tightening around him, and then he pulls out slightly and snaps back in.
You cry out, your nails raking down his back. He hisses slightly at the sting but doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he begins to rock onto you like his life depends on it. You can feel every ridge of his cock; can feel the way it curves at just the right angle.
“You feel so fucking good,” he gasps, “so perfect. Always knew you would.”
He buries his face into your neck, his hips snapping against yours like his life depends on it.
You feel yourself getting close, but before you can warn him your back is arching and you're finishing against him.
He cries out, his thrusts beginning to turn sloppy. “Fuck, fuck, I’m–” He finishes inside you without another word, painting your insides with his cum.
You both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. He pulls out of you with a low breath and then reaches over for something at his nightstand to clean you up silently.
You watch him as he does, noting the way he cleans up your thighs with so much care. He doesn’t rush the aftercare process either, he kisses your skin gently and murmurs sweet words against you.
By the time your thighs stop shaking and you actually feel like you can breathe without your chest caving in, he’s laying down beside you and pulling you against his chest.
You lay there for a moment, feeling the way his chest rises and falls against your back. The warmth from his skin.
“Heeseung?” You mumble.
“Hm?”
You blink, a smile curling onto your lips. “I love you.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I love you, too.”
And for once, you know that you both mean it.
Your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love. And right now, you know that she was right. Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung used to have everything to do with hate, but now you know it was really just another word for love.
⤷ ˚‧ You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere ˊ˗
PAIRINGS. 박성훈 x f !reader
TROPES. Tutor/student, forbidden romance, class difference, small town/big dreams, learning disability representation, opposites attract, second chance love
SUMMARY. Millbrook, Indiana. 1989. Your life is perfectly planned—until you’re assigned to tutor Park Sunghoon, the school’s most infamous senior. He’s failing English (again), lives for street racing, and couldn’t care less about rules. But he’s not stupid—just misunderstood. As you help him learn, he shows you a different way to live. Somewhere between late nights and quiet moments, your carefully mapped future starts to shift… and so do your feelings.
WORD COUNT. 20.4k
WARNINGS. Explicit sexual content (18+), kissing, penetrative sex, grinding, fingering, safe sex, depictions of undiagnosed learning disability, academic struggle, parental pressure, familial conflict, class differences, street racing, alcohol consumption, period-typical attitudes, strong language.
LACEYS NOTE. this was asked for a few times and I finally decided to post it so pls enjoy😽😽 this anon asked for it so ty for asking xx I hope you love Sunghoon and this story as much as I loved writing him. Thank you for reading— reblogs, likes and comments always keep me writing! Please enjoy
Principal Morrison's office smells like coffee and disappointment. You've been here before—student council meetings, scholarship recommendations, the kind of visits that end with praise and college brochures. Today feels different. Today, Mrs. Morrison's smile has an edge to it.
"I have a special assignment for you," she says, settling behind her desk. Outside, the hallway bustles with the chaos of first period passing. It's only the second week of senior year and you already have three AP classes, student council, yearbook committee, and exactly zero free periods.
"Of course," you say automatically, because that's what you do. Say yes. Exceed expectations. Maintain the 4.0 that's going to get you into Stanford. "What do you need?"
"I need you to tutor someone." She pauses, and something in that pause makes your stomach drop. "Park Sunghoon. Senior English. He's taking it for the fourth time."
Oh. Everyone knows Park Sunghoon. Hard not to when he rolls into the parking lot every morning in a black Mustang that's louder than the first bell, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, looking like he walked out of a movie about teenagers your parents wouldn't let you watch. He's in your English class this year—always in the back row, usually late, definitely not paying attention. "I don't know if I'm the right person—"
"You're exactly the right person. Top of the class, excellent communication skills, patient." Mrs. Morrison leans forward, her expression softening into something that looks almost like desperation. "He needs to pass this class to graduate. And between you and me, I think he needs someone who won't give up on him."
The weight of expectation settles on your shoulders—familiar, heavy, accepted. This is what you do. You help. You achieve. You make your parents proud and your teachers grateful and everyone believes you can fix anything if you just try hard enough. "When would I—"
"Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. Library, four to five. I've already cleared it with him." She smiles like this is settled. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you." You leave her office with a sinking feeling and the distinct impression that you've just been assigned the impossible.
—
Thursday afternoon, 4:02 PM. You're in the library with your AP Lit textbook, notes on The Great Gatsby, and growing certainty that Sunghoon Park isn't going to show up.
At 4:15, you're proven wrong. He walks in like he's doing you a favor—leather jacket, ripped jeans, boots that definitely violate dress code. His dark hair falls into his eyes, and when he spots you at the corner table, something crosses his face. Resignation, maybe. Or irritation. "You're my tutor?" he says by way of greeting, dropping his backpack on the table with a thud that makes the librarian shoot him a warning look.
"Looks like it." You gesture to the empty chair. "Have a seat." He sits, sprawling in the chair like he owns it, and pulls out an absolutely destroyed copy of Of Mice and Men. The cover's hanging by threads, pages dog-eared and crumpled. "So," you start, trying to figure out where to begin. "Mrs. Morrison said you're taking senior English again?"
"Fourth time." He says it flat, like it doesn't bother him, but you see the tension in his jaw.
"Okay. What's giving you the most trouble?"
He laughs—short and bitter. "All of it. The reading. The writing. The whole goddamn thing."
"Have you read the book?" You nod at Of Mice and Men.
"I tried." He flips it open randomly, stares at the page like it personally offended him. "The words just—they don't make sense. I read the same line five times and still don't know what it says."
Something clicks in your brain. The way he's holding the book. The frustration that seems deeper than just dislike. The fact that he's clearly not stupid—he wouldn't have made it to senior year four times if he was—but something's not connecting. "Can you read this page out loud for me?" you ask gently.
His expression shuts down immediately. "No."
"Sunghoon—"
"I said no." He's already standing, grabbing his bag. "This is pointless. I'm not some charity case for you to fix so you can put it on your college applications."
"That's not—" You're standing too now, and the librarian is definitely watching. "I'm trying to help."
"I don't need help. I need people to stop pretending I'm going to magically get this shit." His voice is low, controlled, which somehow makes it worse. "I'm stupid. Everyone knows it. Let's not waste each other's time."
"You're not stupid."
He looks at you then—really looks—and for a second you see past the armor. There's hurt there. Years of it. "Yeah?" he challenges. "Then why can't I read a fucking book that every other senior finished in a week?"
"Because I think you might be dyslexic." The word hangs between you. He goes very still.
"What?"
"Dyslexia. It's a learning disability that affects reading. The way you described it—reading the same line multiple times, words not making sense—those are classic signs." You're speaking carefully now, aware that this could go very wrong. "My cousin has it. He's brilliant. Mechanical engineer at Purdue. But reading was hell for him until he got diagnosed and learned strategies."
Sunghoon is staring at you like you're speaking another language. "That's not—I'm just—" He stops. Tries again. "Nobody ever said—"
"Have you ever been tested?"
"No. Teachers just kept saying I wasn't trying hard enough." The bitterness is back, but underneath it there's something else. Hope, maybe. Fragile and dangerous.
"Sit down," you say quietly. "Please. Let me show you something." He hesitates, then slowly sinks back into the chair. You pull out a blank piece of paper and write a sentence in clear print: THE CAT SAT ON THE MAT. "Read this."
He stares at it for a long moment. "The... cat... sat..." He stops, frustrated. "Some of the letters keep moving."
"Exactly." You pull out a red plastic sheet—the kind photographers use for color correction—from your bag. Your cousin's old trick. "Try reading it through this."
He looks skeptical but places the red sheet over the paper. His eyes widen. "The cat sat on the mat." He reads it perfectly. Looks up at you with an expression you can't quite name. "What the fuck."
"Colored overlays help some people with dyslexia. The colored filter reduces visual stress and makes the letters more stable." You're trying to keep your voice steady, professional, but your heart is racing. "This doesn't mean you're stupid, Sunghoon. It means your brain processes visual information differently."
He's still staring at the paper through the red sheet, reading the sentence over and over like he can't believe it. "All this time," he says finally, voice rough. "All these fucking years, and it was just—"
"Not your fault," you finish firmly. "Never your fault." He looks at you then, and something shifts in his expression. The armor cracks, just a little.
"Can you—" He stops, clears his throat. "Can you teach me? Actually teach me, not just make me read shit I can't understand?"
"Yes," you say without hesitation. "But we're going to need more time than an hour twice a week."
"I work at my dad's garage after school most days. Can't really get out of that."
"Evenings?"
He hesitates. "There's a diner. Miller's, out on Route 40. They have booths in the back, it's quiet. I could meet you there. After the garage closes. Seven?"
Your mother is going to have opinions about you spending evenings at a diner with Park Sunghoon. Your father is going to ask if this is really the best use of your time when you should be focused on AP classes and scholarship applications. "Seven works," you hear yourself say.
His smile is small but genuine. "Okay. Tuesday?"
"Tuesday." He leaves with the red plastic sheet folded carefully in his pocket, and you sit there in the empty library wondering what you've just started.
Mrs. Henderson, the librarian, appears at your elbow. "That was kind," she says quietly.
"I just showed him a color filter."
"You gave him hope." She pats your shoulder. "Sometimes that's more important."
You pack up your things slowly, thinking about Sunghoon's expression when he read that sentence. About years of being told he wasn't trying hard enough. About intelligence that doesn't fit in the boxes that schools make. About the fact that you just agreed to spend your evenings in a diner with the most dangerous boy in school.
And the scariest part? You're looking forward to it.
—
Tuesday night arrives too fast and too slow at the same time. You tell your mother you're studying at the library. It's not technically a lie—you are helping someone study. She doesn't need to know the someone is Park Sunghoon or that the library is actually a diner on the edge of town.
Miller's Diner looks like it hasn't changed since 1955. Red vinyl booths, checkerboard floor, a jukebox in the corner playing Tiffany. The smell of coffee and frying oil. A handful of truckers at the counter, a couple of farmers in the corner booth, and exactly zero people from school.
Sunghoon is already there, sitting in the last booth by the window. He's changed out of his leather jacket into a plain black t-shirt, and there's grease under his fingernails. He sees you and something in his expression softens. "You came," he says, like he half-expected you to bail.
"I said I would." You slide into the booth across from him, setting down your bag full of books and teaching materials. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"People make promises they don't keep." He shrugs. "Had a few tutors give up before."
"I'm not going to give up."
"We'll see."
A waitress appears—Sally, her name tag says, probably in her fifties with kind eyes and a skeptical expression when she looks at Sunghoon. "What can I get you kids?"
"Coffee, black," Sunghoon says. "And a chocolate milkshake."
You raise an eyebrow. "Both?"
"Coffee's for staying awake. Milkshake's for when reading gives me a headache." He looks almost defensive. "What?"
"Nothing. I'll have the same."
Sally writes it down, her skepticism softening into something that might be approval. "Be right back."
When she's gone, you pull out your materials. You've spent the past four days researching dyslexia, strategies, techniques. Your cousin sent you a care package—more colored overlays, a reading ruler, special paper with slightly tinted backgrounds that's easier on dyslexic eyes. "Okay," you start, spreading everything out. "First things first. I'm not a diagnostician, so I can't officially test you for dyslexia. But I can teach you strategies that help people with dyslexia read more effectively."
"Like the red sheet."
"Exactly. Different colors work for different people." You push the stack of overlays toward him. "Try these on a page of your book. See which one makes the words most stable."
He pulls out Of Mice and Men, that same destroyed copy, and starts testing. Blue—no good. Yellow—better. Green—worse. Red— "Red's still best," he says finally.
"Then red it is. I also got you this." You slide over a reading ruler—a long transparent strip with a colored bar that helps track lines of text. "And this paper." Special cream-colored pages. "Some people find it easier to read on colored backgrounds."
He's looking at all of it like you've just handed him gold. "You did all this for me?"
"It wasn't a big deal. My cousin had extras."
"It's a big deal to me." His voice is quiet. Genuine. "Nobody's ever—" He stops. Starts again. "Thank you."
Your heart does something complicated in your chest. "You're welcome. Now let's see if we can get through chapter one together."
For the next hour, you work. You read passages out loud while he follows along with the red overlay and reading ruler. You stop every few paragraphs to discuss what's happening, to make sure he's comprehending. When he gets frustrated with a particularly difficult section, you break it down sentence by sentence. The milkshakes arrive halfway through. You're both so focused you barely notice Sally setting them down.
"This is about friendship, right?" Sunghoon says suddenly. You're on chapter three now, George and Lennie planning their dream farm. "Like, George takes care of Lennie even though it makes his life harder."
"Yes. Exactly." You're surprised by how quickly he's grasping the themes. "Why do you think George does that?"
"Because Lennie's the only person who sees him as more than just some ranch hand. Because having someone need you is better than being alone." He pauses. "And maybe because George knows what it's like to be different. To not fit."
You stare at him. That's a deeper reading than half your AP class came up with. "That's—that's brilliant, Sunghoon."
He looks up, startled. "Really?"
"Really. You're understanding the emotional core of the story. That's harder than just reading the words."
"But I can't write a paper about it. Can't spell half the words I'd need."
"So we'll work on that too. Writing strategies. Spell check. Audio recording your ideas and transcribing them." You're already making notes. "There are ways around every obstacle."
"You really believe that?"
"I really do."
He takes a long drink of his milkshake, studying you over the rim of the glass. "Why are you doing this? And don't say it's for college apps. You've got those locked down."
The question catches you off guard. You consider lying, giving some easy answer about community service or helping others. But something about the way he's looking at you—open, genuine, vulnerable—demands honesty. "Because nobody should feel stupid when they're not," you say finally. "Because intelligence comes in so many forms and school only tests for one. Because you deserve someone who sees you as more than just a problem to fix."
His expression does something complicated. "You don't even know me."
"Then tell me about you. Who is Park Sunghoon when he's not in the back of English class?"
He hesitates, then: "I work at my dad's garage. Park's Auto Repair, down on Fifth Street. Been working there since I was twelve. Can rebuild an engine blindfolded."
"Really?"
"Really. Cars make sense to me. They're logical. If something's broken, there's a reason. A fix. It's all mechanical. No hidden meanings or metaphors or bullshit."
"Unlike English class."
"Unlike English class." He grins—the first real smile you've seen from him. It transforms his whole face. "But mostly I build cars. Race them, sometimes."
"The Mustang?"
"The Mustang. '67 Fastback. Bought it for five hundred bucks three years ago when it was basically a rusted shell. Been rebuilding it piece by piece ever since." There's passion in his voice now, the same passion that's been missing when he talks about school. "She's almost done. Just needs a new transmission and some body work."
"She?"
"All cars are she." He says it like it's obvious. "You probably think it's stupid. Racing."
"I think it sounds exciting. Terrifying, but exciting."
"You scared of going fast?"
"I'm scared of everything going wrong."
He studies you for a moment. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Stuck-up. Judgmental. Like everyone else who's got their shit together." He's playing with his milkshake straw now, not quite looking at you. "But you're not. You're... nice. Actually nice, not fake nice."
"You're not what I expected either."
"What did you expect?"
"Honestly? Someone who didn't care. Someone who'd blow off tutoring or not even try." You pause. "But you're trying really hard. You care about this even though it's difficult."
"I care about graduating. Getting out of this town."
"Where would you go?"
"Anywhere. Indianapolis, maybe. Or Detroit. Somewhere with real garages, real racing circuits. Somewhere I'm not the Park kid who can't read." The bitterness creeps back into his voice.
"You can read. You're reading right now."
He looks down at the book, the red overlay, the progress you've made. "Yeah. I guess I am."
For a moment, you just sit there. The diner's nearly empty now, the jukebox playing something slow. Through the window, you can see the Mustang parked under a streetlight, all black paint and chrome, beautiful and dangerous. "Same time Thursday?" you ask.
"Same time Thursday." He pauses. "And... thanks. For not giving up on me after one session."
"I told you I wouldn't."
"Yeah, but people say a lot of things."
"I'm not people."
His smile is small but genuine. "No. You're really not."
You leave the diner at nine, and your mother's waiting up when you get home. "The library was open until nine?" she asks, voice carefully neutral.
"I was helping someone study. Lost track of time."
"Someone?"
"A classmate." Not technically a lie.
She studies your face, and you wonder if she can see it—the flutter of something new and dangerous. The feeling that tonight was about more than just teaching someone to read. "Just be careful," she says finally. "Senior year's important. Don't let anyone distract you from your goals."
"I won't, Mom."
But later, lying in bed, you think about Sunghoon's smile when he read that first sentence. About the passion in his voice when he talked about his Mustang. About the fact that you're already looking forward to Thursday. And you wonder if maybe, possibly, you're already distracted.
—
The next six weeks blur together in a pattern: School. Student council. Thursday tutoring in the library for appearances. Tuesday and Thursday nights at Miller's Diner for actual progress.
You learn things about Sunghoon: He drinks his coffee black because his dad taught him that's how men drink it, but he'd secretly prefer cream and sugar. He's left-handed. He has a younger sister, Soo-ah, who's in eighth grade and wants to be a vet. His mom left when he was ten and he doesn't talk about it. He can identify any car by the sound of its engine. He's terrified of failing English again. He thinks Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye is whiny but he understands why the character's so angry at everything.
You learn how to teach him: Breaking chapters into smaller sections works. Audio books help, but he feels guilty using them, like they're cheating. He comprehends better when he can discuss ideas out loud rather than writing them down. His spelling is creative but phonetic. When he's frustrated, he needs five minutes to walk it off before trying again. Positive reinforcement matters more than criticism. He works twice as hard as anyone you've ever met.
You learn things about yourself: that you look forward to Tuesday and Thursday nights more than any other part of your week. You started leaving your hair down instead of in a ponytail. You think about him during AP Calc. The sound of an engine makes your heart race now, wondering if it's his Mustang. You're lying to your parents about where you spend your evenings and you don't feel guilty enough about it.
By mid-October, Sunghoon's reading at a tenth-grade level—not great, but light years beyond where he started. He got a B-minus on his Of Mice and Men essay. Mr. Peterson, the English teacher, wrote "significant improvement" on the top. "I can't believe it," Sunghoon says, staring at the paper like it might disappear. You're in your usual booth at Miller's, chemistry homework spread out in front of you (because you still have actual classes), his English work in front of him.
"I can. You earned it."
"We earned it. I couldn't have done this without you."
"You did the work. I just showed you different strategies."
He looks up, and there's something intense in his expression. "It's more than that. You believed I could do it. That matters."
The air between you feels charged suddenly. You're very aware that you're sitting in a back booth of a diner where nobody from school ever comes, that it's just the two of you and Sally wiping down counters, that Sunghoon is looking at you like you're something more than just his tutor. "I should—" You gesture vaguely at your chemistry homework. "Midterm next week."
"Right. Yeah." He clears his throat, looking away. "You want help?"
"You want to help with chemistry?"
"I'm good at it. Sciences make sense. They're like cars—everything has a reason, a reaction, a cause and effect." So you trade. He helps you understand molecular bonds and chemical reactions, explaining them with an ease that surprises you. You help him with his reading comprehension questions for Catcher in the Rye.
It's past ten when you finally pack up. Sally's given up pretending she's not watching you two, a small smile on her face as she tops off Sunghoon's coffee for the third time. In the parking lot, you walk toward your car—a sensible Honda Civic your parents bought you junior year—but Sunghoon catches your wrist. "Hey," he says. "You want to see something?"
"See what?"
"The Mustang. Properly. I finished the transmission last week."
You should say no. It's late. Your mom's going to ask questions if you're not home by ten-thirty. You have homework still. "Yeah," you hear yourself say. "I'd like that."
He leads you to the Mustang, parked under the streetlight like always, but this time he opens the hood. The engine gleams underneath—chrome and steel and meticulous care. "You rebuilt all of this?" you ask, genuinely awed.
"Most of it. Dad helped with some of the specialized stuff, but yeah. Took three years." There's pride in his voice. "Want to hear her run?"
"Please." He slides into the driver's seat, and when he turns the key, the engine roars to life. It's loud and powerful and sounds like controlled chaos. He revs it once, and you can feel the vibration in your chest.
When he kills the engine and gets out, he's grinning. "What do you think?"
"I think she's beautiful."
"Yeah?" He's standing close now, close enough that you can smell motor oil and coffee and something that's just him. "You want to go for a ride sometime?"
Your heart's racing. "Where would we go?"
"Anywhere. Nowhere. There's this place, about twenty minutes out of town. The quarry. People race there sometimes." He pauses. "I could teach you to drive stick shift."
"My parents would kill me."
"They don't have to know."
It's a terrible idea. Sneaking around. Going to the quarry where kids race and drink and do all the things that good students don't do. Getting into a car with a boy your parents definitely wouldn't approve of. "Saturday?" you ask.
His smile is worth every risk. "Saturday. Pick you up at eight?"
"I'll meet you. The QuickMart on the edge of town."
"You don't want me picking you up at your house."
"My dad owns a shotgun and strong opinions about boys. So no."
He laughs—full and genuine. "Fair enough. QuickMart at eight."
You drive home with butterflies in your stomach and the sound of that engine still echoing in your ears. When you slip in the front door at 10:45, your mom's reading on the couch. "Library close late again?" she asks.
"Big project. Sorry."
She studies you over the top of her book. "You're smiling a lot for someone who's been doing homework all night."
"Just had a productive study session."
"Uh-huh." She doesn't believe you, but she doesn't push. "Get some sleep. You look tired."
In your room, you try to focus on chemistry but your mind keeps drifting to Saturday. To the Mustang. To Sunghoon's smile and the way he looked at you in the parking lot. Your phone rings. The landline extension in your room. You pick up. "Hi." It's him. You don't know how he got your number, but you're glad he did.
"Hi."
"I just wanted to make sure you got home okay."
"I'm fine. It's like fifteen minutes."
"I know. But still." He pauses. "I'm looking forward to Saturday."
"Me too."
"Good. Get some sleep. I'll see you Thursday."
"See you Thursday." You hang up, and you're smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. Your best friend Wonyoung is going to lose her mind when you tell her about this. If you tell her about this. Because maybe some things are meant to be secret. Maybe some things are just yours.
—
Saturday night at 7:55 PM. You're standing in the QuickMart parking lot wearing jeans and a sweater, telling yourself this is fine. This is normal. Lots of people go to the quarry on Saturday nights. (Except you're not lots of people. You're the girl who spends Saturday nights doing extra credit or organizing student council activities or watching movies with Wonyoung while she talks about her on-again-off-again thing with Jake Sim.)
The Mustang rumbles into the parking lot at exactly eight, all black paint and chrome gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Sunghoon leans over to open the passenger door, grinning. "You came."
"You sound surprised."
"Half-expected you to bail. Come to your senses."
"Maybe I came to my senses by showing up."
His grin widens. "Get in." You do. The interior's been restored too—black leather seats, a tape deck, the smell of new upholstery and possibility. "Buckle up," he says, and then he's peeling out of the parking lot, and you're pressed back against the seat as the engine roars.
He drives fast but controlled, taking the roads out of town with easy confidence. The radio's playing—some rock station, The Bangles bleeding into Bon Jovi. The windows are down and the October air is cold and crisp and perfect. "Where'd you tell your parents you were going?" he asks over the music.
"Wonyoung's house. Movie night."
"She covering for you?"
"She doesn't know. I'll call her later, make sure our stories match if anyone asks." You glance at him. "Where'd you tell your dad?"
"That I was going to the quarry. He doesn't care as long as I'm home by midnight and don't wreck the car."
"Different parenting styles."
"You could say that."
The quarry is exactly what you expected and nothing like it at the same time. It's an old limestone quarry, abandoned for years, now filled with water that's probably freezing and definitely not safe to swim in. There's a flat area at the top that's become the unofficial racing strip—a quarter mile of cracked pavement with enough room for two cars to line up side by side.
There are maybe twenty cars already there when you arrive. You recognize some from school—Jay Park's Camaro, Jake Sim's pickup truck, a few others. Music blasts from someone's stereo. A group of kids stands around a bonfire that's definitely illegal. Sunghoon parks at the edge of the group, and immediately people start gravitating toward the Mustang. "Yo, Hoon!" A guy you vaguely recognize from auto shop class—Jay, you think—jogs over. "Transmission finally done?"
"Finished her last week." Sunghoon gets out, popping the hood. "Want to see?" You get out too, feeling wildly out of place in your neat jeans and sweater while everyone else is in leather and ripped denim and the kind of casual confidence that comes from belonging.
"Holy shit," Jay says, looking at the engine. "You did this yourself?"
"Mostly. Dad helped with the specs."
More people gather, asking technical questions about compression ratios and torque and things you don't understand. You stand slightly apart, and that's when you notice her. A girl about your age, leaning against a cherry-red Corvette, watching you with undisguised curiosity. She's gorgeous—leather jacket, dark lipstick, the kind of effortless cool you've never managed. She walks over. "You're new."
"I'm—yeah. First time here."
"I can tell." She's not mean about it, just observational. "I'm Ryujin. That's my car." She gestures to the Corvette. "You're Sunghoon's tutor, right?"
Apparently everyone knows. "Yeah. How did you—"
"Small town. Word travels." She studies you with sharp eyes. "You seem nervous."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Little bit. But don't worry. Nobody bites. Well, Jay bites sometimes, but only if you ask nicely." Despite yourself, you laugh. "There we go. You have a smile." Ryujin nods toward where Sunghoon's still showing off his engine. "He talks about you, you know."
Your heart skips. "He does?"
"All the time. 'My tutor this, my tutor that. She's so smart. She actually believes I can pass.'" Ryujin's expression softens. "It's good for him. Having someone who sees past the reputation."
"What reputation?"
"Park's delinquent kid. The one who can't hack it academically. The loser who's going to end up pumping gas at his dad's garage for the rest of his life." She says it matter-of-factly, but there's an edge of anger underneath. "People are assholes."
"He's not—he's brilliant. He's just dyslexic."
"I know. But nobody else seems to get that." She glances back toward Sunghoon. "Anyway. I'm glad he brought you. He doesn't bring people here. It's his space, you know? The fact that he wanted to share it with you means something."
Before you can process that, Sunghoon's back, sliding an arm around your waist casually, naturally, like he's done it a hundred times before. "You good?" he asks.
"Maybe." They're grinning at each other, and you realize this is friendship. This is his people—the ones who see him as more than the kid who failed English three times.
"I'll race you later," Ryujin says. "Right now, I think you were going to teach your girl to drive stick." Your girl. The words settle warm in your chest.
Sunghoon leads you back to the Mustang, away from the crowd. "You ready for this?"
"To drive your baby? The car you've spent three years restoring?"
"To learn something new." He opens the driver's door. "Come on. Slide in." You do. The driver's seat feels different—powerful, dangerous. Sunghoon gets in the passenger side, talking you through the basics.
"Clutch, brake, gas. Three pedals instead of two. You're going to push the clutch all the way down, put her in first gear, then slowly let the clutch out while giving her gas. Too fast, she'll stall. Too slow, she'll—" The engine dies immediately. "—stall. That's okay. Everyone does that the first time. Try again."
It takes six tries before you manage to actually move forward without stalling. By try seven, you're doing laps around the parking area, grinding the gears occasionally but mostly getting it. "You're a natural," Sunghoon says, and he sounds impressed.
"I'm terrible at this."
"You're learning. That's different." He guides you through shifting to second, then third. "Feel that? The way she catches when you hit the right spot? That's perfect."
You do three successful laps, and on the fourth, you catch him watching you instead of the road. "What?"
"Nothing. You just—you look happy."
"I am happy."
"Good."
You park after the fifth lap, heart racing with adrenaline and something else. Something that might be dangerous. "That was amazing," you say.
"You did great."
"No, I mean—this. Being here. Learning something completely unrelated to school or college applications or my parents' expectations. Just—doing something for me."
He's looking at you with that intense focus that makes your stomach flip. "You don't do things for yourself much, do you?"
"I'm busy."
"That's not an answer."
"No," you admit. "I don't. Everything I do has a purpose. An end goal. Get into Stanford. Make my parents proud. Secure my future."
"What do you want? Not your parents. You."
The question catches you completely off guard. Nobody's asked you that before. Nobody's cared to ask. "I don't know," you say finally. Honestly. "I've spent so long doing what I'm supposed to do, I'm not sure what I want anymore."
"That's sad."
"That's realistic."
"Maybe." He shifts in the seat, turning to face you fully. "You want to know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you're scared. I think you've built this perfect life, this perfect plan, and you're terrified of anything that might mess it up. But I also think—" He pauses. "I think you're only here, in this car, at this quarry, because part of you wants something different. Something real."
Your heart is pounding. "And if I do?"
"Then maybe you should let yourself have it."
You're sitting in his Mustang, at a quarry where people race and break rules, with a boy who makes your heart race faster than any engine, and you're tired. So tired of being good. Of being perfect. Of doing everything right. "Teach me to race," you say suddenly.
His eyes widen. "What?"
"Teach me to race. Actually race. Not just drive around a parking lot."
"That's—do you know how dangerous that is?"
"I'm asking anyway."
He studies you for a long moment. "You're serious."
"Completely."
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Okay. But not tonight. You need more practice first. Real practice. We'll come back next Saturday. And the Saturday after that. I'll teach you everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything." The word hangs heavy with promise. The night continues. You meet more people—Jay, who's loud and funny and clearly Sunghoon's best friend. Yuna, who drags her boyfriend Sunoo around by the hand and asks you about student council. Niki, who's only sixteen but drives better than half the seniors here.
You watch three races. Ryujin wins two of them, Sunghoon wins the third. The way he drives is like watching art—controlled chaos, perfect timing, raw skill. At eleven, he takes you back to your car at the QuickMart. "Same time next week?" he asks.
"Same time next week."
"And Thursday. Diner."
"I'll be there."
He leans across the console, and for a moment you think he might kiss you. But instead, he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Drive safe," he says.
"You too." You call Wonyoung from the parking lot, apologizing for the short notice, establishing your alibi. She's suspicious but covers for you without question, because that's what best friends do.
When you get home, your mom's asleep but your dad's still up, reading in his study. "Good movie?" he asks.
"Great movie."
"You and Wonyoung have fun?"
"Always."
He studies you over his reading glasses, and you wonder if he can see it—the change. The fact that his perfect daughter just spent the evening at an illegal street racing spot with a boy he'd definitely disapprove of. "Get some rest," he says finally. "You have SAT prep in the morning."
"Right. SAT prep."
In your room, you strip off your sweater, and it smells like motor oil and bonfire smoke and freedom. You should wash it immediately. Instead, you fold it carefully and put it in the back of your closet, where the smell might linger just a little longer. You lie in bed thinking about Sunghoon's hands on the steering wheel. About the way he looked at you when you said you were happy. About the fact that for the first time in your carefully planned life, you have a secret that's just yours.
And you're not sorry about it at all.
—
November arrives cold and sudden, turning Millbrook into a postcard of autumn—all orange leaves and early frost, the smell of wood smoke and approaching winter. You and Sunghoon fall into a rhythm. Tuesdays and Thursdays: Miller's Diner. Books and milkshakes and watching him improve week by week. He's reading at grade level now. Got a B on his Catcher in the Rye essay. Mr. Peterson keeps looking at him like he doesn't quite believe the transformation.
Saturdays: The quarry. Learning to drive—really drive. Stick shift, speed shifting, the physics of acceleration and control. The first time you beat Niki in a practice race (his reaction time was slow, you didn't actually outdrive him, but still), you screamed so loud Sunghoon laughed until he cried. Weekdays: Stolen moments between classes. His hand brushing yours in the hallway. Notes passed during English (ironic, since he can actually read them now). The way your heart jumps every time you see the Mustang in the parking lot.
It's not dating. You're not calling it dating. That would make it real, and real things have consequences. But it's something. Something that makes you smile when you should be concentrating on calculus. Something that has Wonyoung giving you knowing looks across the lunch table. "You're going to have to tell me eventually," she says one Monday, stealing a fry from your tray.
"Tell you what?"
"Who he is. The guy you're sneaking around with."
Your heart stops. "I'm not—"
"Please. You smell like motor oil every Saturday night. You smile at your phone. You're distracted in student council meetings." She grins. "I'm your best friend. I know everything."
"It's complicated."
"Complicated is fun. Uncomplicated is boring." She leans closer, voice dropping. "Is it Park Sunghoon?"
You nearly choke on your water. "What? No. Why would you—"
"Because he looks at you in English class like you're the only person in the room. And you look back the same way when you think nobody's watching."
"We're—I'm tutoring him. That's all."
"Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of England." But she doesn't push, because Wonyoung gets boundaries. "Just be careful, okay? I know you. You're all-or-nothing. When you fall, you fall hard." The problem is: she's right. You're falling.
—
The first time Sunghoon holds your hand (really holds it, not just brushes against it), you're at the diner on a Thursday night in mid-November. You've just finished analyzing a chapter of Lord of the Flies, and he's frustrated because the symbolism still doesn't quite click. "Why can't the conch just be a conch?" he says, stabbing at his milkshake with a straw. "Why does everything have to mean something else?"
"Because that's how literature works. Golding's commenting on society, civilization, human nature—"
"Through a fucking seashell."
"Through a symbol that represents order and democracy." You're trying not to smile at his frustration. "You're overthinking it."
"I'm underthinking it. That's my problem. Everyone else sees this deep meaning and I just see a story about kids on an island."
"The story IS about kids on an island. The symbolism is just another layer."
He looks at you, and something in his expression softens. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make me feel like I'm not stupid even when I don't get something."
"Because you're not stupid. You just learn differently."
His hand reaches across the table, covering yours. It's not accidental this time. It's deliberate, warm, sending electricity up your arm. "Thank you," he says quietly. "For everything. For not giving up. For making me believe I could actually pass this class."
Your throat is tight. "You're going to pass. You're going to graduate."
"Because of you." He doesn't let go of your hand. Neither do you. Sally comes by to refill coffee and doesn't comment on it, but you see her smile.
When you leave that night, he walks you to your car like always, but this time he doesn't step back. He stands close, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him even in the November cold. "I've been wanting to ask you something," he says.
Your heart's in your throat. "Okay."
"There's a race next Saturday. Real race, not just practice. Winner takes two hundred bucks." He pauses. "I want you to come. Not to race. Just to watch. To be there."
"I'm always there on Saturdays."
"I know, but—" He runs a hand through his hair, looking uncertain for the first time since you've met him. "I want you there as mine. Not my tutor. Not my friend. As—as my girl."
The world narrows to just the two of you, standing in a diner parking lot under harsh fluorescent lights that suddenly feel romantic. "Sunghoon—"
"I know it's complicated. I know your parents wouldn't approve. I know I'm not the kind of guy you're supposed to be with." The words rush out. "But I like you. More than like you. Have for weeks. And I think—I hope—you might feel the same?"
You should say no. Should remind him about Stanford, about your carefully planned future, about all the reasons this is a terrible idea. Instead, you reach up and kiss him. It's brief and sweet and tastes like chocolate milkshake and possibility. When you pull back, he's staring at you like you've performed a miracle. "Yeah," you say, breathless. "I feel the same."
His smile is brilliant. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You kiss him again, longer this time, his hands coming up to cup your face, gentle and sure. "I'll be there Saturday. As yours."
"As mine," he repeats, like he's testing out the words. "I like the sound of that."
You drive home giddy and terrified, the taste of him still on your lips. Your phone's ringing when you get to your room—the landline, Sunghoon's voice on the other end. "Hi," he says.
"Hi. You just saw me twenty minutes ago."
"I know. I missed you already." You can hear the smile in his voice. "Is that stupid?"
You talk for an hour about nothing and everything. About his sister's soccer game and your student council drama and what it felt like to finally kiss each other after weeks of dancing around it. When you finally hang up, it's past midnight, and you have a chemistry test tomorrow you haven't studied for. You don't even care.
—
Saturday's race is different from practice runs. There's money on the line, real stakes. The crowd's bigger—maybe thirty cars, fifty people. You spot a few seniors from school and hope they don't recognize you. Sunghoon's racing against Jay, best two out of three. The Mustang versus the Camaro. Both engines roar at the starting line, and you're standing with Ryujin and Yuna, heart in your throat. "He's good," Ryujin says, watching the cars line up. "But Jay's reckless. Could go either way."
"Sunghoon's better," you say with more confidence than you feel.
"Look at you. All defensive of your man." She grins. "It's cute."
The flag drops. They're off—two bullets of metal and gasoline, neck and neck down the quarter mile. Sunghoon takes the first race by half a car length. Jay takes the second by less. The third race is for everything.
You can barely watch. Can barely breathe. The engines scream, the crowd roars, and then Sunghoon crosses the finish line first by inches. The crowd erupts. Jay's laughing, shaking Sunghoon's hand, because it's all good fun until it's not. Money exchanges hands. And then Sunghoon's walking toward you, adrenaline-high and grinning, and he picks you up and spins you around right there in front of everyone. "Did you see that?" he says, breathless.
"I saw. You were amazing."
"I had good motivation." He sets you down but doesn't let go, his forehead resting against yours. "Wanted to win for you."
"Sunghoon—" He kisses you, right there in front of everyone, and it's not brief or sweet. It's deep and claiming and says mine more clearly than words ever could.
When you break apart, half the people there are staring. Including Jake Sim, who's in your AP History class and definitely knows who you are. "Shit," you mutter.
"What?"
"Jake goes to our school. This is going to be all over by Monday."
Sunghoon's expression hardens. "Is that a problem?"
"My parents—they're going to—"
"Hey." He cups your face, making you look at him. "If you want to keep this quiet, we can keep this quiet. I get it. I'm not exactly parent-approved material." The hurt in his voice kills you.
"No. I don't—I don't want to hide." The words surprise you, but you mean them. "I'm tired of hiding. Of being perfect. Of living my life for everyone else's approval."
"You sure?"
"Completely."
His smile is slow and genuine. "Good. Because I'm done pretending you're just my tutor."
The rest of the night is perfect. You meet his friends properly—Jay and his girlfriend Jungwon, Niki who's secretly a poetry nerd, Yuna and Sunoo who are the most wholesome couple you've ever seen. They accept you immediately, and it's strange and wonderful to be part of a group that doesn't care about GPAs or college applications or any of the things that usually define you.
Around eleven, Sunghoon pulls you away from the crowd, leading you to a spot overlooking the quarry. The water's black and still below, stars reflected on the surface. "I've been thinking," he says, sitting on the hood of the Mustang and pulling you to stand between his legs. "About after graduation."
Your stomach drops. "What about it?"
"I'm not going to college. Can't afford it even if I wanted to, and honestly? I don't want to. I want to work with my dad, take over the garage eventually. Maybe open my own shop someday."
"That sounds perfect for you."
"But you're going to Stanford. All the way across the country." The reality of it sits heavy between you. You've been so focused on now—on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturday nights—that you haven't let yourself think about graduation. About what happens when your carefully planned future collides with this unexpected present.
"Maybe I don't go to Stanford," you say quietly. His eyes widen."Maybe I stay. Go to Indiana State or Purdue. Somewhere closer."
"No." He says it firmly. "Absolutely not. You're not giving up Stanford for me."
"It wouldn't be giving up. It would be choosing—"
"You'd resent me. Eventually. You'd look back and wonder what if, and you'd hate me for it." He takes your hands. "I care about you too much to let you do that."
"So what, we just break up when I leave?"
"I don't know." The honesty in his voice breaks your heart. "I haven't figured that part out yet. All I know is that I want you to go chase your dreams, even if it means losing you."
You kiss him to shut him up, to stop the conversation from going somewhere too painful. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer, and for a while there's nothing but this—the two of you, the Mustang, the stars overhead. "We have seven months," you murmur against his mouth. "Seven months before we have to figure any of that out."
"Seven months."
"So let's make them count."
"Yeah." He kisses you again, deeper. "Let's make them count."
You stay like that for a while—his hands in your hair, yours in his, the city glittering below and the night cold around you—and the kissing shifts into something else slowly, the way things do when you’ve been holding back for a long time and the holding back finally stops. "Hey," he says softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands frame your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. "You sure?"
You’ve never been more sure of anything. "Yes." He kisses you again—slower now, intentional, one hand sliding down your waist—and then he’s reaching past you to recline the passenger seat, and you climb over the console and into his lap, and the Mustang’s interior is small and warm and entirely yours.
He undresses you carefully, methodically, like he’s done everything in his life—with patience and complete attention. Your sweater first, then his jacket, his eyes on your face the whole time, watching for hesitation. There isn’t any.
"You’re beautiful," he says, and it’s so simple and so honest that it lodges somewhere in your chest and stays there.
His hands are warm everywhere they touch—down your sides, over your hips, learning you the way he’s learned everything that matters to him: slowly, thoroughly, like he means to know it forever. When his fingers find the hem of your jeans, he pauses. "Still yes?"
"Still yes." He takes his time. That’s the thing about Sunghoon—he has always taken his time with things that matter. His mouth finds your throat, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, and you’re acutely aware of the city lights through the windshield and the sound of both of you breathing and how small and perfect this space is.
He works you open with his fingers first—slow and attentive, watching your face, adjusting when your breath catches—his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that makes your hips roll against his hand involuntarily. You grip the headrest behind him and he says your name, just your name, low and reverent. "Okay?" he asks.
"More than," you manage. "Don’t stop." He doesn’t. He keeps going until you’re shaking and breathless, until you come with your forehead dropped against his shoulder and his name in your mouth like a prayer. He holds you through it—both arms, steady—and presses his lips to your temple like it matters, which it does, which everything does with him.
When you finally shift, rising over him, his eyes stay on yours. His hands settle warm on your hips, steadying but not directing—letting you set the pace, the depth, the whole thing, because that’s always been how he is with you. He gives you the wheel.
You take him in slowly. He exhales long and low, jaw tight, hands gripping your hips hard enough to feel it, and you understand in that moment that he’s been holding back too. That there has been patience on both sides of this for months, accumulating. "You okay?" he asks, voice rough.
"Perfect," you say, and mean it in every possible sense. You move together—unhurried, finding the rhythm, his cock filling you completely, his thumb finding your clit again as you roll your hips—and it’s nothing like you expected and exactly what it should be. He tips his head back and watches you with dark eyes and that unguarded expression he only ever gives you, the one that has no performance in it at all.
His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your tits, and you arch into the touch. He sits up, mouth finding your throat, and the change in angle makes you gasp. "There," you breathe. "Right there—"
"I’ve got you," he says against your skin, and he does. His arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against him, and he rocks into you from below, steady and deep, and you hold on and let go at the same time. The second orgasm builds faster, sharper, and when it breaks you’re holding his face in your hands and looking right at him and he’s looking back with something in his expression that you have no word for but will spend a long time remembering.
He follows you, his whole body pulling you closer as he does, your name on his lips like a finish line he’s been driving toward this whole time.
Afterward you stay tangled together in the reclined seat. The city still glitters through the windshield. His heartbeat slows under your palm. Your head fits perfectly in the curve of his neck, like it was made for exactly that purpose, which you are starting to believe it was. "Seven months," you say quietly, into the warmth of his chest.
He presses his mouth to the top of your head. "Seven months," he agrees. "Every single one."
—
Monday arrives with exactly the fallout you expected. Jake Sim must have told someone, who told someone else, who told everyone, because by second period the entire school knows you're dating Park Sunghoon. The reactions vary:
Wonyoung: "FINALLY. I've been waiting for you to admit it. Also, he's hot. Well done." Your lab partner in Chemistry: "I didn't know you were into bad boys." Some random freshman: "Aren't you supposed to be smart?"
The worst is lunch. You're sitting with Wonyoung and your usual student council crowd when Sunghoon appears. "Can I sit?" he asks, looking directly at you, ignoring everyone else.
The table goes silent. This is unprecedented. Park Sunghoon doesn't sit with the honor students. The honor students don't sit with the kids who've failed English three times. But you're not most honor students. "Yeah," you say, scooting over to make room. "Sit."
He does. Drops his lunch tray next to yours like he belongs there, which apparently he does now. The student council people exchange glances. Wonyoung's grinning like Christmas came early. "So," Sunghoon says, stealing a fry from your tray. "What are we discussing? Student council stuff? World domination?"
"Both," Wonyoung says immediately, because she's never met an awkward silence she couldn't fill. "We're planning the winter formal. Theme, decorations, the whole thing."
"What's the theme?"
"Winter Wonderland. Very original, I know."
"You could do Winter Racing. Decorate with checkered flags and—" He stops, looking at your expression. "What?"
"That's actually not a terrible idea."
"Don't sound so surprised."
The conversation continues, and slowly, impossibly, your two worlds start to merge. Wonyoung asks Sunghoon about cars. He asks her about whatever Jake drama is currently happening (apparently there's always Jake drama). Your student council friends warm up when they realize he's funny and not actually scary. By the end of lunch, it almost feels normal.
Until you're walking to English and Principal Morrison stops you in the hall. "Can I see you in my office?" she asks. Not quite a question.
Your stomach sinks. "Now?"
"Now."
Sunghoon squeezes your hand once before you follow Morrison down the hall. Her office still smells like coffee, but there's no warmth in her smile today. "I've been hearing things," she says once the door closes. "About you and Mr. Park."
"We're dating." You say it firmly, even though your heart's racing. "Is that a problem?"
"That depends. Is this relationship interfering with your tutoring duties?"
"No. He's doing better than ever. You've seen his grades."
"I have. Which is why I'm concerned." She leans forward. "You're an exceptional student with a bright future. Stanford. Pre-law. You've worked very hard to get where you are."
"I'm aware."
"Park Sunghoon is a nice young man, but he's not on the same path you are. I'd hate to see you distracted. To see your focus shift away from your goals." The implication is clear: he's not good enough for you. He's going to drag you down.
"With respect, Mrs. Morrison, my personal life is my business." Your voice is steady even though you're shaking. "I'm maintaining my grades. I'm fulfilling my student council responsibilities. What I do outside of school isn't up for discussion."
"I'm just trying to look out for you—"
"I don't need looking out for. I need people to trust that I can make my own decisions." You stand. "Is there anything else?"
She sighs. "Just—be careful. That's all I'm saying."
"I will be. Thank you." You leave her office furious and shaking, and Sunghoon's waiting in the hall even though he's definitely supposed to be in class.
"What did she say?" he asks.
"That I'm making a mistake. That you're going to ruin my future." The words taste bitter.
His expression shuts down. "Maybe she's right."
"Don't." You grab his hand. "Don't do that. Don't let other people's opinions make you doubt this."
"I'm not good enough for you. Everyone thinks it. Hell, I think it sometimes."
"Good enough according to what? Their standards? Fuck their standards." The profanity feels good, rebellious. "You make me happy. That's what matters."
"Your parents are going to lose it when they find out."
"They'll find out when I'm ready to tell them." You kiss him quick, not caring who sees. "And when they do, I'm not changing my mind."
His smile is small but real. "You're kind of badass when you're angry."
"I'm learning from you."
"Nah. This was always in you. You just needed permission to let it out."
—
Thanksgiving arrives, and with it, the dreaded family dinner where your parents expect you to discuss your college applications and your perfectly planned future. Instead, you spend the morning texting Sunghoon while your mother prepares turkey. Sunghoon: What are you wearing?
You: Why, are you coming over to see me?
Sunghoon: No, but I'm thinking about you. Want to picture it accurately.
You: Sweater and jeans. Very exciting.
Sunghoon: Everything about you is exciting.
You: Smooth talker.
Sunghoon: I'm working on my English skills. My tutor's really good.
You: Your tutor thinks you're pretty great too.
Sunghoon: Just pretty great?
You: Fishing for compliments?
Sunghoon: Maybe. Is it working?
You: You're incredible. Happy now?
Sunghoon: Very. What time's dinner?
You: Six. Why?
Sunghoon: Because I'm picking you up at eight. There's a place I want to show you.
You: It's Thanksgiving. I can't just leave family dinner.
Sunghoon: Sure you can. Tell them you're going to Wonyoung's.
You: I use that excuse too much.
Sunghoon: Then tell them the truth. That you're seeing your boyfriend.
The word stops you. Boyfriend. He's never used it before. You've never defined what this is, too scared to put labels on something so new and fragile. You: Is that what you are? My boyfriend?
The little text bubble appears, disappears, appears again. Finally: Sunghoon: I want to be. If that's okay with you.
Your heart soars. You: It's more than okay. I'll see you at eight, boyfriend.
Sunghoon: See you at eight, girlfriend.
Dinner is exactly as expected—your dad asking about Stanford applications, your mom discussing scholarship opportunities, your older brother (home from MIT for the holiday) pontificating about the importance of networking. Around seven-thirty, you clear your throat. "I'm going out after dinner," you announce.
Your mother looks up from the pumpkin pie. "Out where?"
"To see someone."
"Wonyoung?"
"No. A friend. From school."
Your father's fork pauses halfway to his mouth. "What friend?"
This is it. The moment of truth. You could lie, make up another excuse, keep hiding. Instead: "His name is Sunghoon. He's my boyfriend." The silence is deafening.
"Boyfriend?" your mother repeats faintly.
"Since when do you have a boyfriend?" your brother asks.
"Since October. We've been seeing each other for about two months."
Your father sets down his fork carefully. "Who is this boy? Do we know his family?"
"Park's Auto Repair. His dad owns it."
Recognition flashes across your father's face. "The Park boy? The one who's failed English multiple times?"
"He's passing now. Because I've been tutoring him."
"That's what this is about?" Your mother's expression clears with relief. "You're tutoring him. That's not dating, honey."
"It started as tutoring. It became dating. There's a difference."
"Absolutely not." Your father's voice is firm. "You are not dating that boy."
Your heart pounds, but you keep your voice steady. "I am. And I'm going to see him tonight."
"You are not leaving this house."
"I'm eighteen. You can't stop me."
"We can take away your car. Your allowance. We can make this very difficult for you."
The threat hangs in the air. Your mother looks distressed, your brother shocked, your father furious. "Do what you need to do," you say quietly. "But I'm still going." You stand, grabbing your coat, and your father stands too.
"If you walk out that door to see that boy, there will be consequences."
"I understand."
"You're throwing away your future for someone who isn't worth it."
That snaps something in you. "He's worth more than you know. He's kind and smart and he works harder than anyone I've ever met. The only people who can't see that are people who judge based on grades and class and things that don't actually matter."
"Grades matter. Your education matters. Stanford matters."
"I know. And I'm still going to Stanford. I'm still maintaining my 4.0. I'm still doing everything I'm supposed to do." You pause at the door. "I'm just also choosing to be happy." You leave before they can respond.
The Mustang's idling at the end of your driveway, and when you climb in, Sunghoon takes one look at your face and knows. "You told them."
"I told them."
"And?"
"And my dad's pissed. My mom's horrified. My brother thinks I've lost my mind." You buckle your seatbelt. "But I did it. I chose you."
His expression does something complicated. "You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did. I'm tired of hiding. Tired of living my life for other people's approval." You take his hand. "Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere special. You'll see."
He drives out of town, past the quarry, along back roads you've never seen. The radio plays soft—Fleetwood Mac, "Landslide"—and his hand stays linked with yours. After twenty minutes, he pulls onto a dirt road that leads to a field. In the distance, you can see Indianapolis's skyline glittering, all lights and possibility. "What is this place?" you ask.
"My spot. When everything gets too much—school, my dad, all of it—I come here." He parks, and you both get out. The November air is freezing, but he pulls a blanket from the trunk, spreading it on the hood of the Mustang. You climb up, and he settles behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder. The city sparkles in the distance, close enough to see but far enough to feel like a different world.
"I've been coming here since I was fifteen," he says quietly. "Whenever I felt like I didn't fit anywhere, I'd drive out here and look at the city. Remind myself that there's more than just Millbrook. More than just people who think I'm stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"I know that now. Because of you." He holds you tighter. "You changed everything for me. Not just teaching me to read—though that's huge. But making me believe I'm worth something. That I have value beyond fixing cars."
"You always had value. I just helped you see it."
"Same thing you did for me, you did for yourself." He turns you to face him. "Before us, you were so focused on being perfect that you forgot to be happy. Now look at you. Standing up to your parents. Choosing what you want instead of what you're supposed to want."
"I'm terrified."
"Good. Being terrified means it matters."
You kiss him as the city lights blur behind your closed eyes, and it feels like standing at the edge of a cliff—scary and exhilarating and exactly where you're supposed to be. "I'm falling in love with you," you whisper against his mouth. The admission feels huge, terrifying.
He pulls back to look at you, his expression soft and open and completely vulnerable. "Good," he says. "Because I fell in love with you weeks ago. Just been waiting for you to catch up." You laugh, and cry, and kiss him again, and in the distance Indianapolis glitters like a promise that maybe, just maybe, everything's going to be okay.
—
Your parents aren't speaking to you. Well, they're speaking—terse, polite conversations about dinner times and whether you need the car—but the warmth is gone. Your mother looks at you like you're a stranger. Your father's disappointment is a physical presence at every meal.
They took away your allowance but not your car (you need it for student council, and they're not quite willing to sabotage that). They've forbidden Sunghoon from coming to the house. They've made it clear that this relationship is temporary, a phase, something you'll grow out of when you come to your senses. You've made it equally clear that you disagree. The upside is: You're no longer sneaking around. The downside: Everything is harder now. But you have Sunghoon, and somehow that makes it bearable.
—
The first real snow falls on a Tuesday in mid-December. You and Sunghoon are at Miller's Diner, working through a Lord of the Flies essay that's due Friday. He's gotten good at this—organizing his thoughts verbally, using voice-to-text for first drafts, then going back to clean up spelling and grammar. "So Piggy represents intelligence and reason," he says, "but nobody listens to him because he doesn't fit their idea of what a leader should be."
"Exactly. What does that say about society?"
"That we're idiots who value the wrong things?" He grins. "That sound about right?"
"Bit cynical, but not wrong." You're making notes for him to reference later. "What evidence supports that?"
He flips through the book—using his red overlay, reading more fluently than he did three months ago. It's not perfect. It's probably never going to be easy. But it's worlds better than where he started. "Here," he says, pointing to a passage. "Where they're voting for chief and everyone picks Ralph because he's good-looking and has the conch, even though Piggy's clearly smarter."
"Perfect. Use that quote, explain why it matters, connect it to real-world examples."
"Real-world examples like people thinking I'm dumb because I can't read?"
Your heart squeezes. "Yeah. Like that."
He's quiet for a moment, then: "You know what's weird? I used to hate English. Hated everything about it. But now—" He gestures at the books, the notes. "It's not so bad. Some of it's actually interesting."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I mean, Golding's kind of depressing, but he's got a point. People do judge based on stupid shit. They make assumptions. And the conch thing—order versus chaos—that actually makes sense when you think about it."
You're grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. "You're doing literary analysis. Voluntarily."
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm not shocked. I'm proud."
His smile is soft, genuine. "Thanks. For not giving up on me."
"Never." Sally brings your milkshakes—chocolate for him, strawberry for you, a routine she's memorized by now. The diner's nearly empty, just a couple of truckers at the counter and you two in your usual booth.
"How are things at home?" Sunghoon asks carefully.
"Tense. My mom keeps leaving college brochures on my desk like I've forgotten about Stanford. My dad barely looks at me." You stir your milkshake. "But I'm not backing down."
"I hate that I'm causing problems with your family."
"You're not. Their expectations are causing problems. I'm just finally standing up to them."
"Still." He reaches across the table, taking your hand. "If you ever want to—if this gets too hard—"
"Don't." You squeeze his fingers. "I'm not giving up on us. Not for them. Not for anyone."
"Even if they cut you off? Refuse to pay for Stanford?"
The fear in his voice breaks your heart. "I'll figure it out. Loans, scholarships, whatever it takes."
"You shouldn't have to—"
"But I will. Because you're worth it." You mean every word. "Besides, I'm not doing this just for you. I'm doing it for me. For the first time in my life, I'm choosing what I want instead of what everyone else wants for me."
His expression softens. "What do you want?"
"You. Stanford. A future where I don't have to choose between love and ambition." You pause. "Is that too much to ask?"
"No. It's exactly right."
You work for another hour, then Sunghoon walks you to your car like always. The snow's still falling, turning the parking lot into a winter postcard. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you close. "You cold?" he asks.
"A little." He shrugs out of his jacket—that same leather jacket he always wears—and drapes it over your shoulders. It's warm from his body heat and smells like him, motor oil and cologne and something that's just Sunghoon. "You're going to freeze," you protest.
"I'll survive. Besides, you look good in my jacket." You do. You've seen yourself in mirrors, in car windows—his too-big jacket swallowing you up, making you look dangerous and claimed and exactly like someone who'd date Park Sunghoon.
You kiss him in the falling snow, and it's perfect. Movie-perfect. The kind of moment that would be cheesy if it wasn't so real. "I love you," he says against your mouth.
"I love you too."
"Even though I'm causing problems with your parents?"
"Especially because of that. You make me brave."
His smile is everything. "You were always brave. You just needed permission to show it."
—
The winter formal is the third Saturday of December, your mother assumes you're going with Wonyoung or solo. She's bought you a dress—beautiful, conservative, exactly the kind of thing the future Stanford student should wear. "I'm going with Sunghoon," you tell her Friday night at dinner.
She nearly drops her fork. "Excuse me?"
"To the winter formal. Sunghoon's my date."
"Absolutely not."
"I'm going either way. You can't stop me."
Your father sets down his newspaper. "We can forbid you from going at all."
"Then I guess I'm forbidden." You stand, taking your plate to the sink. "But I'm still going. So you can either accept that I'm going with Sunghoon, or you can spend the evening knowing I'm there against your wishes. Your choice." You leave before they can respond, and you're shaking but proud. Standing up to them is getting easier, but it still takes everything you have.
Saturday arrives clear and cold. You get ready at Wonyoung's house—she's going with Jake (they're on-again this week), and she helps you with your hair and makeup. "You're really doing this," she says, watching you in the mirror. "Going with him. In front of everyone."
"Yeah."
"Your parents are going to lose it."
"They already have."
"And you're okay with that?"
You think about it—really think about it. About the future you'd planned, the one where you did everything right and made everyone proud. About the future you're building now, messier and scarier but entirely yours. "Yeah," you say finally. "I'm okay with it."
The dress your mother bought hangs in your closet at home. Instead, you're wearing something Wonyoung helped you find—still nice, still appropriate, but edgier. A dark red dress that your mother would call too much and you call perfect. Sunghoon picks you up at Wonyoung's at seven, and when he sees you, he stops mid-step. "Wow."
"Good wow or bad wow?"
"Incredible wow." He's wearing actual dress clothes—dark slacks, button-down, tie. He looks unfamiliar and handsome and still completely him. "You're beautiful."
"You're not so bad yourself."
He hands you flowers—simple roses from the grocery store, but the gesture makes your heart melt. "Ready?"
"Completely."
The dance is in the school gym, transformed with the Winter Racing theme that won the student council vote (Sunghoon's idea, your influence). Checkered flags, silver and white decorations, lights that make everything sparkle. When you walk in together, conversations stop. People stare. This is unexpected—the valedictorian and the kid who failed English, together at the most visible school event of the year. But Sunghoon's hand is firm in yours, and you're done hiding. "Want to dance?" he asks.
"I should warn you—I'm terrible at it."
"Then we'll be terrible together."
He leads you to the dance floor just as a slow song starts. His hands settle on your waist, yours on his shoulders, and you sway to music that's probably supposed to have actual dance steps but you're both improvising. "People are staring," you murmur.
"Let them."
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"Used to. But then I figured out that people's opinions don't change who I am. I'm still the guy who rebuilt a Mustang from scrap. Still the guy who's finally passing English. Still the guy who's somehow dating the smartest, most beautiful girl in school." He pulls you closer. "Their opinions don't matter."
"When did you get so wise?"
"I have a really good tutor." You laugh, and the tension breaks. The next song is faster, and Wonyoung drags you both into a group dance with her and Jake and some other student council people. Sunghoon's terrible at dancing but enthusiastic, and watching him attempt choreography he's clearly making up is the highlight of your night.
Around nine, you slip outside for air. The December night is freezing, and you're shivering in your dress when Sunghoon's jacket settles around your shoulders. "You need to stop giving me your jacket," you say. "You're going to get hypothermia."
"Worth it." He stands behind you, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder. "You having fun?"
"The most fun. You?"
"Better than I expected. Though I still think the refreshments are weak. Diner milkshakes are better."
"Obviously."
You stand there in comfortable silence, watching your breath fog in the cold air, and you think about how much has changed since September. How you've changed. "What are you thinking?" Sunghoon asks.
"That I'm happy. Really, genuinely happy. And that scares me."
"Why?"
"Because happiness like this doesn't last. Because we're graduating in June and you're staying here and I'm going to California and—" Your throat tightens. "Because I don't know how to keep this when everything's pulling us apart."
His arms tighten around you. "We'll figure it out."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But we will." He turns you to face him. "I love you. That's not going to change just because you're three thousand miles away."
"Long distance is hard."
"So? Lots of things are hard. Reading's hard. Racing's hard. Standing up to your parents is hard. But we do them anyway because they matter." He cups your face. "You matter. We matter. And I'm not giving up on us just because it's going to be difficult."
You kiss him, tasting determination and promise and the future you're both trying to hold onto. "Seven months," you say. "We have seven more months before Stanford."
"Then let's make them count."
The rest of December passes in a blur of finals and family tension and stolen time with Sunghoon. You ace your finals (because some things don't change). He passes English with a B-minus (because some things do). Christmas is awkward. Your parents got you practical gifts—a new laptop for college, organizational systems, things that say we're investing in your future whether or not we approve of your present.
You spend Christmas night at the quarry with Sunghoon and his friends, sitting around a bonfire, drinking hot chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps that Ryujin brought. "To surviving senior year," Jay toasts, raising his mug.
"To graduation," Niki adds.
"To getting the hell out of Millbrook," Ryujin says.
"To the people who make staying worthwhile," Sunghoon says, looking directly at you.
Everyone drinks, and you lean into Sunghoon's side, warm despite the December cold, surrounded by people who've become your friends as much as his. This is what family should feel like, you think. Not obligation and expectation, but choice and acceptance and love. "What are you thinking?" Wonyoung asks. She's on Jake's lap (they're very on-again), but her eyes are on you.
"That I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
"Even though it's complicated?"
"Especially because it's complicated."
She smiles. "Good answer."
Later, Sunghoon drives you home, but instead of dropping you off, he parks down the street. "I got you something," he says, pulling a small wrapped box from his jacket pocket. "For Christmas."
"Sunghoon, we said no gifts—"
"I know. But I saw this and thought of you." You unwrap it carefully. Inside is a keychain—simple silver, with a tiny Mustang charm attached. "It's from my car," he explains. "Well, a replica. Because wherever you go, whatever happens, you'll have a piece of us. A piece of this."
Your eyes are burning. "It's perfect."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You lean across the console to kiss him. "I love it. I love you."
"I love you too."
You sit there in his Mustang, engine off, snow falling outside, and you make promises you hope you can keep. That distance won't change things. That you'll make it work. That love is enough. You want to believe it. You have to believe it. Because the alternative—losing him—is unthinkable.
—
January through March pass faster than you want them to. Stanford acceptance letter arrives in early March—thick envelope, congratulations, everything you've worked for. Your parents are ecstatic. They throw you a celebration dinner, invite relatives, act like your relationship with Sunghoon is a phase that's ending now that you've gotten into your dream school. You don't correct them. You just smile and accept congratulations and hold the letter that represents your future while thinking about the boy who represents your present.
Sunghoon's proud when you tell him. Genuinely, completely proud. "Stanford," he says, kissing you in the diner parking lot. "That's huge."
"It doesn't feel huge. It feels like goodbye."
"It's not goodbye. It's—" He pauses, searching for words. "It's see you later."
"That's optimistic."
"I'm learning optimism from you."
Spring arrives with brutal honesty about the future. Graduation is June seventh. You leave for Stanford's summer orientation June twentieth. That gives you less than two weeks after graduation before everything changes. The quarry races continue through April, and you've gotten good. Not as good as Sunghoon or Ryujin, but good enough to win against Niki (who's actually trying now) and to place second against Jay (who's still reckless but respects your skill). "You should race for real," Ryujin says one Saturday night in mid-April. "There's a circuit in Indianapolis. Real tracks, real prizes. You could do it."
"I'm going to California in June."
"But you're here now."
You look at Sunghoon, who's watching you with that expression that means he's proud and scared and trying not to show either. "One race," you say. "Before I leave. A real one."
His smile is beautiful and sad. "Yeah. One real race."
You tell your parents you're staying after school for a student council project on the last Friday of April. Instead, you drive to Indianapolis with Sunghoon, Ryujin following in her Corvette, to register for your first real race. The track is terrifying and exhilarating. Professional. Dangerous. Everything the quarry isn't. "You don't have to do this," Sunghoon says as you're filling out forms.
"I want to."
"Why?"
"Because I've spent my whole life playing it safe. Doing the smart thing. The responsible thing." You sign your name with a flourish. "I want one irresponsible thing to remember. One time I did something just because it scared me."
"Racing scares you?"
"Terrifies me. That's why I have to do it."
The race is scheduled for the second Saturday in May. That gives you two weeks to practice, to prepare, to possibly come to your senses (you don't). You practice at the quarry every Saturday, and Sunghoon teaches you things he's learned from years of racing. How to take curves at speed. When to brake and when to accelerate. How to listen to the engine, to feel when the car's about to lose traction. "You're good at this," he says after a particularly clean run. "Natural."
"I have a good teacher."
"Best teacher you ever had?" He's grinning, cocky.
"Most humble, definitely."
The night before the race, you can't sleep. Sunghoon calls at midnight. "You nervous?" he asks.
"Terrified."
"Good. Use that. Fear keeps you sharp."
"What if I crash?"
"You won't."
"But if I do?"
"Then I'll be there to pull you out and tell you you're an idiot for racing in the first place." His voice softens. "But you won't crash. You're too good for that."
"How are you so sure?"
"Because I've watched you do impossible things. Ace AP classes. Stand up to your parents. Take a kid who couldn't read and teach him to love literature. Racing is just one more impossible thing you're going to conquer." You fall asleep with your phone pressed to your ear, his breathing steady on the other end, feeling brave and terrified and ready.
Race day arrives sunny and perfect. The track in Indianapolis is packed—real racers, real crowds, real stakes. You're racing in the amateur division, but that doesn't make it less intimidating. Your parents think you're at a college prep seminar. Wonyoung knows the truth and made you promise to be careful. Sunghoon's in the pit area, having helped prep the Mustang (you're borrowing his car for this, because yours is sensible and slow and entirely wrong for racing). "You ready?" he asks, checking the tire pressure for the third time.
"Ask me after."
"You're going to be great."
"You're biased."
"Completely. Doesn't make it less true."
Ryujin appears, already in her racing suit. "You're up in fifteen. Stop overthinking it."
"I'm not overthinking—"
"You're absolutely overthinking. It's what you do." She grins. "Just drive like you do at the quarry. Pretend you're trying to beat Niki's sorry ass."
"I heard that!" Niki calls from somewhere nearby.
The fifteen minutes pass too fast. Suddenly you're in the Mustang, helmet on, strapped in tight. The engine's roar is familiar now, comforting. You can do this. The flag drops. You're off, and for the first few seconds you can't think, can barely breathe. Then muscle memory kicks in. Sunghoon's lessons, hours of practice, raw instinct.
The track blurs. You're not first—not even close—but you're not last either. Sixth out of twelve. Holding your own. Lap two: you pass someone. Fifth place. Lap three: someone passes you. Back to sixth. Lap four (final lap): You see an opening. A gap between two cars. It's risky. Probably stupid. You take it.
The Mustang responds perfectly, threading the needle, and suddenly you're fourth. The finish line approaches and you're laughing inside the helmet because you're doing it, you're actually doing it— You cross the line in fourth place. Not first. Not even podium. But fourth out of twelve in your first real race, and when you pull into the pit area, Sunghoon's there pulling you out of the car and spinning you around and kissing you right there in front of everyone. "Fourth place!" he's saying. "In your first fucking race!"
"I can't believe I did that."
"I can. I knew you would." He's grinning so wide it must hurt. "You were amazing."
Ryujin finished second (because of course she did), and she's laughing at both of you. "Not bad for a brainiac. You've got real potential."
"Thanks."
"You racing again?"
The question makes your stomach drop. Because the answer is no. You're leaving in five weeks. This was it. Your one race. Your one irresponsible thing. "Probably not," you say quietly.
Ryujin's expression shifts to understanding. "Right. Stanford." She squeezes your shoulder. "Then I'm glad you got to do this one. Fourth place is nothing to sneeze at."
The rest of the afternoon passes in a celebration. Jay brings beer (illegal but who cares), and you all sit in the parking lot reliving the race, analyzing turns, celebrating small victories. This is freedom, you think. This is what it feels like to do something just because you want to, not because it's part of a plan or looks good on applications or makes anyone proud. This is what it feels like to be young and reckless and alive.
Later, Sunghoon drives you back to Millbrook, and you're quiet, processing. "You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"About how in five weeks this is over. This—" You gesture between you. "—is over."
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "It doesn't have to be over."
"How? You're here. I'm going to be three thousand miles away."
"We'll figure it out. Phone calls. Visits. We'll make it work."
"Do you really believe that?"
He's quiet for a long moment. "I want to. I'm trying to."
"But?"
"But I'm scared." The admission costs him. "I'm scared that you'll get to California and realize there's a whole world of guys who aren't broken. Who can read without colored filters. Who graduated on time and don't work at their dad's garage."
"Sunghoon—"
"I'm scared you'll forget about the small-town kid who fell in love with you over milkshakes and car engines."
You reach across the console, taking his hand. "I could never forget you. You changed my life."
"For now. But in a year? Two years?"
"Forever," you say firmly. "You changed me forever."
He pulls over at your usual spot—the overlook of Indianapolis, the city glittering in the distance. Turns to face you fully. "I love you," he says. "I'm always going to love you. But I also love you too much to make you choose between me and your dreams."
"What does that mean?"
"It means—" He swallows hard. "It means when you leave for Stanford, I'm not going to hold you back. I'm not going to guilt you or make you feel bad for living your life. I want you to experience everything. To be free."
"I don't want to be free. I want to be with you."
"You can't have both. Not really. Not with three thousand miles between us."
Tears are streaming down your face now. "So what, we just break up? Pretend this never happened?"
"No. We love each other for the next five weeks. We make every moment count. And then—" His voice cracks. "And then we let each other go."
"I don't want to let you go."
"I don't want to let you go either. But we have to."
You climb into his lap in the front seat of the Mustang, kissing him desperately, trying to memorize everything—the taste of him, the feel of his hands, the way he holds you like you're precious and breakable and strong all at once. "Five weeks," you whisper against his mouth.
"Five weeks," he agrees. "Let's make them perfect."
He drives. Not back to town—not yet. He takes the back roads out past the quarry, past the field where you used to watch Indianapolis glow, until he finds a stretch of empty road where the stars are visible and the nearest person is miles away. Then he parks. Neither of you speaks for a moment. The Mustang idles and then goes quiet and the May night presses warm against the windows. "Come here," he says softly.
You go. You cross the console and fit yourself against him and he holds you so tight it almost hurts, his face buried in your hair, both of you breathing like you’ve been running. This time it isn’t urgent the way the first time was—that first night at the overlook, the months of held breath finally released. This time it’s slower and sadder and more deliberate, the way you do something when you know you’re doing it for the last time in a long time.
He undresses you like he’s memorizing it. Like he’s filing it away somewhere safe. Every piece of clothing that comes off, his hands follow—mapping your shoulders, your waist, the curve of your spine—and you do the same for him, learning by touch what you already know by heart. His chest, the line of his collarbone, the old scar on his ribs from a car part that slipped when he was sixteen. "I love you," you say, against his shoulder. Not for the first time. But with a weight to it you haven’t used before.
"I love you," he says back, and pulls you closer. He lays you back in the reclined seat and takes his time. His mouth traces down your throat, your collarbone, the curve of your breast—lips finding your nipples, soft at first and then less so, until your fingers are in his hair and you’re arching up toward him. He smiles against your skin and keeps going.
His hand slides down your stomach, fingers stroking through your folds with the ease of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing now, who has paid close attention every time before this. He finds your clit and works it slow and steady until your hips are rocking against his hand and you’re whispering his name at the dark of the car ceiling. "Sunghoon—"
"I know," he says. "I’ve got you. I always have you." He pushes two fingers into your pussy and curls them, thumb still on your clit, and you come apart quietly—the way you do now, the way you’ve learned to, teeth pressed into your lower lip, breathless and shaking and his. He holds you through it, watching your face like he’s trying to memorize that too.
Then he settles between your thighs and presses into you slowly—taking his time even now, or maybe especially now—and you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer and closer until there’s no space between you at all. He moves like the night is long and he intends to use all of it. Deep and unhurried, his cock filling you completely with every thrust, his forehead resting against yours so you’re breathing the same air, his eyes open and on yours the whole time. It’s almost too much—the eye contact, the closeness, the specific weight of knowing what this is. You don’t look away. Neither does he.
He shifts his angle and you gasp and his jaw goes tight and he keeps it there—that exact angle, the head of his cock dragging against the right place every time—until the tension winds up tight and sharp and breaks in a long wave that makes you clutch his shoulders and hold on. He follows you—"I love you," he says, rough and honest and helpless, right at the end—and stays there, arms around you, both of you catching your breath while the Indiana night hums outside.
You stay tangled together for a long time. Long enough that the windows fog. Long enough that somewhere in the dark a car passes on the far road and its headlights sweep briefly across yours and neither of you moves. "Don’t let go yet," you say quietly.
His arms tighten. "Not yet," he says. "Not yet."
—
The last five weeks of senior year pass in a blur of lasts. Last student council meeting. Last AP exam. Last time sitting in your assigned seat in English class. Last ordinary Tuesday at Miller's Diner. You and Sunghoon make a pact: No talking about Stanford. No discussing the future. Just now. Just these five weeks. It's denial and it's beautiful and it's breaking both your hearts.
Prom happens the third weekend of May. You go together—officially, publicly, to hell with anyone who has opinions. Your parents don't speak to you for three days after, but you don't care because you have pictures of you and Sunghoon in formal wear, his arms around your waist, both of you smiling like nothing bad is coming.
Senior Week is a blur of parties and celebrations. The quarry fills up every night with graduates celebrating freedom and dreading change. You race twice more—not officially, just for fun—and win once against Jay (he claims the track was slippery).
Wonyoung throws a party at her house the Saturday before graduation. Her parents are gone for the weekend (conveniently), and half the senior class shows up. "I can't believe this is almost over," she says, slightly drunk on the punch that someone definitely spiked. "We're leaving. All of us. Going to different colleges, different states. Everything's changing."
"Not everything. We'll still be friends."
"Promise?"
"Promise." But even as you say it, you wonder if it's true. If friendships survive distance and change and growing up. If anything survives that.
The Tuesday before graduation, you and Sunghoon are at Miller's Diner for the last time. You both know it without saying it—after graduation, this routine ends. Sally brings your milkshakes without asking. "Last week of school?"
"Last week of everything," Sunghoon says.
She pats his shoulder sympathetically. "You kids going to be okay?"
"We're going to try to be."
When she's gone, you're both quiet. There's no homework to do. No tutoring needed. Sunghoon passed English with a B. He's graduating. Everything you worked for together is complete. "I've been thinking," he says finally. "About us. About what happens after."
"You said no future talk."
"I know. But we need to talk about it. We can't just pretend—"
"I know." You take a shaky breath. "What have you been thinking?"
"That I love you. That I'm always going to love you. But that trying to hold onto something when we're both moving in different directions is just going to hurt more in the end."
The tears are already falling. "So what are you saying?"
"That I think we should make a clean break. After graduation. You go to Stanford, I stay here, and we don't drag it out with phone calls and promises we can't keep."
"I could keep them. I would keep them."
"For how long? A semester? A year? Eventually you'd meet someone there. Someone smart and ambitious who's going places. Someone who fits your future better than a mechanic from Millbrook."
"Don't do that. Don't diminish yourself."
"I'm being realistic. You deserve someone who can give you everything. I can only give you parts and pieces and long-distance phone calls."
You're crying harder now. "You give me everything that matters. You make me happy. Isn't that enough?"
"Not when it means holding you back."
"You're not—"
"I am. Your parents are right about that." He reaches across the table, taking both your hands. "You're meant for amazing things. And I'm so proud to have been part of your journey. But I can't be the thing that keeps you from flying."
"I don't want to fly without you."
"You don't have a choice. We both know this was always temporary. We just pretended it wasn't."
You're sobbing now, and Sally's watching from behind the counter with sad eyes, and Sunghoon's crying too even though he's trying to hide it. "I don't want this to end," you manage.
"Neither do I. But it has to." He stands, pulling you up with him, holding you while you both fall apart. "But we still have four more days. Let's not waste them being sad."
—
Graduation Day arrives. You're wearing your honor cords, valedictorian medal, all the symbols of everything you've achieved. Sunghoon's in his cap and gown next to you in the alphabetical lineup, grinning like a kid because he's actually here, actually graduating. "We did it," he says.
"You did it. This was all you."
"Couldn't have done it without you."
The ceremony is long. Principal Morrison gives a speech about futures and potential. You give your valedictorian speech about change and growth and becoming who you're meant to be. (You wrote it thinking about Sunghoon. Everyone assumes it's about college.) When they call his name—"Park Sunghoon"—the cheering is loud. His dad is in the stands, looking proud and slightly shocked. His sister's jumping up and down. You're clapping so hard your hands hurt.
He walks across the stage, accepts his diploma, and when he looks out at the audience, he finds you. Smiles. Mouths "we did it." You mouth back "you did it."
After the ceremony, there are pictures and celebrations. Your parents are polite to Sunghoon when he appears in family photos, but the frost is still there. His dad shakes your hand, thanks you for helping his son, doesn't quite meet your eyes. "Party at the quarry tonight," Jay announces to everyone. "Everyone's invited. Last blowout before we all scatter." You and Sunghoon exchange glances. Tonight. This is it.
The quarry is packed for graduation night. Someone's brought a whole sound system. The bonfire's huge. There's alcohol and celebration and the particular bittersweet feeling of knowing everything's about to change. You stay close to Sunghoon all night. Dancing when the music's good, sitting on the hood of the Mustang when you need quiet, kissing like you're trying to memorize the taste of him.
Around midnight, he pulls you away from the crowd. "Come with me. I want to show you something." He drives out to the overlook—your spot, where Indianapolis glitters in the distance. Parks the Mustang and leads you to sit on the hood, arms around you, both of you looking at the city. "I'm going to miss this," he says quietly. "Every part of this."
"Me too."
"You changed my life, you know. Before you, I thought I was stupid. Broken. Going nowhere. But you saw something in me that nobody else did. You made me believe I could be more."
"You were always more. I just helped you see it."
"Same thing." He turns you to face him. "I'm going to let you go tomorrow. It's going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. But I need you to know that you're the best thing that ever happened to me. That these eight months were the happiest I've ever been." You're crying again, and he wipes your tears with his thumbs. "I need you to promise me something," he continues. "Promise me you'll go to Stanford and be brilliant. Promise me you'll chase every dream. Promise me you won't look back and regret this. Regret us."
"I could never regret us."
"Promise me anyway."
"I promise." Your voice is shaking. "But only if you promise me something too."
"Anything."
"Promise me you'll be happy. That you won't let anyone make you feel small again. That you'll remember you're brilliant and talented and worthy of everything good."
"I promise." You kiss him one last time at the overlook, the city glittering behind you, and it's desperate and perfect and goodbye.
The next morning, you're packing for Stanford. Your room is full of boxes, your whole life sorted into keep and leave behind. There's a knock on your door. Your mom. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
She sits on your bed, looking at all the boxes. "I've been thinking. About you and that Park boy."
Your stomach drops. "Mom—"
"Let me finish." She takes a breath. "I don't approve. I want to be clear about that. I think he's a distraction. I think he represents everything you're supposed to be moving away from."
"Thanks for the honesty," you say bitterly.
"But." She looks at you, really looks. "I've also watched you this year. You've been happier. More confident. More yourself than I've seen in a long time. And I can't ignore that he's part of that." You don't know what to say. "I'm not saying I approve. I'm not saying I think this will last. But I am saying—" She pauses. "I'm saying I see that he matters to you. And that you matter to him. And that's worth something."
"We broke up," you say quietly. "Yesterday. Decided it was better to end it than try to make long distance work."
Her expression softens into something that might be sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Are you really?"
"I'm sorry you're hurting. Even if I think it's for the best." She leaves, and you sit among your boxes, holding the keychain Sunghoon gave you for Christmas, crying for everything you're losing.
—
You leave for Stanford orientation on June twentieth. Your parents drive you to the airport, help you check your bags, hug you goodbye. "We're proud of you," your dad says. "So proud."
"Make the most of this opportunity," your mom adds. "Don't waste it." You nod, unable to speak around the lump in your throat.
The flight to California is long. You press your forehead against the window and watch Indiana disappear beneath you. Somewhere down there is Millbrook. Miller's Diner. The quarry. A black Mustang and a boy who taught you to fly. You pull out your phone, scrolling to his contact. He hasn't called or texted since graduation night. Clean break, like he said.
Your finger hovers over his name. One call. One message. Just to hear his voice. You don't do it. You're strong enough to keep the promise you made. Instead, you clutch the Mustang keychain and cry quietly into your complimentary ginger ale while the flight attendant pretends not to notice.
Stanford is beautiful. Your dorm is nice. Your roommate is friendly. Orientation is overwhelming and exciting and everything you hoped for. But at night, alone in your new bed in your new life, you dream about engines and milkshakes and a boy who made you brave enough to claim your future. You just wish that future could have included him.
—
FOUR YEARS LATER
Stanford Law School graduation is held outdoors in perfect California sunshine. You're wearing your JD regalia, cum laude honors cord, everything you worked for. Your parents are in the stands, beaming. Your brother flew in from Boston where he's doing his medical residency. Wonyoung's here too—she's at UCLA, came up for the weekend to celebrate.
The ceremony is long. When they finally call your name, the cheering is loud, and you walk across the stage thinking about all the paths that led you here. Four years of undergraduate. Three years of law school. Summers clerking at firms in San Francisco, making connections, building a future. You have a job lined up at a prestigious firm. You have your whole career ahead of you.
You did everything you planned. Everything you were supposed to do. And you're proud. You are. But sometimes, late at night, you still dream about a diner in Indiana and a boy who taught you that plans aren't everything.
You haven't spoken to Sunghoon since the day you left. Kept your promise to make a clean break. Forced yourself not to check his social media (you blocked it all the first week at Stanford because you knew you'd be too tempted).
Wonyoung updates you occasionally. Sunghoon's still in Millbrook, working at his dad's garage. Took it over last year when his dad had a heart attack. Business is good. He's doing well. She never mentions if he's seeing anyone. You never ask.
After graduation, there's a reception. Food, drinks, celebration. You're talking to a professor about your upcoming job when your phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number. Unknown: Congratulations, Dr. soon-to-be lawyer. I always knew you'd do amazing things.
Your heart stops. You know that phrasing. That voice. You step away from the reception, hands shaking as you reply. You: Sunghoon?
Unknown: Yeah. It's me. Sorry for texting out of the blue. I just—I saw Wonyoung's Instagram. You graduating. I wanted to say I'm proud of you.
You: How did you get my number?
Unknown: Wonyoung. Made her promise not to tell you I asked for it. Didn't want to pressure you.
You: It's been four years.
Unknown: I know. Too long. Not long enough. Both.
Your heart is racing. You look around at your graduation party, at your future unfolding exactly as planned, and you make a decision. You: Are you in California?
Unknown: Flew in this morning. I'm actually in Palo Alto. At a coffee shop near campus. I understand if you don't want to see me. I just thought—hoped—maybe you'd want to grab coffee. Catch up.
This is crazy. You have a reception to get back to. People waiting. A whole celebration planned. You: Where?
He sends you an address. It's ten minutes from where you're standing. "I need to go," you tell Wonyoung, grabbing your purse.
"Go where? We're celebrating you—" She sees your expression. "Oh my god. He's here, isn't he?"
"How did you know?"
"Because you only look like that when it's about him." She grins. "Go. I'll cover for you with your parents."
"You knew he was coming?"
"He asked for your number last week. Told me he wanted to congratulate you. I didn't think he'd actually show up." She pushes you toward the exit. "Go. Find out what four years has done to you both."
The coffee shop is small and crowded with students. You spot him immediately, sitting at a corner table, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt that's so different from the leather jacket and ripped jeans you remember but somehow still completely him. He sees you and stands. Older. Broader. Still beautiful. "Hi," he says.
"Hi." For a moment you just stare at each other, and then he's crossing the distance and pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home. "You're here," you say into his shoulder. "You're really here."
"I'm here." He pulls back to look at you. "You look amazing. Different. More—I don't know. More yourself."
"You look good too. Really good."
You sit, and for a minute it's awkward. Four years is a long time. You're not the same people who said goodbye in Indiana. "So," he starts. "Law school. That's huge."
"Thanks. What about you? Wonyoung said you took over the garage?"
"Yeah. Dad's heart couldn't take the long hours anymore. So now it's Park & Son Auto Repair." He smiles, proud. "We're doing well. Expanded last year. Hired three new mechanics."
"That's amazing."
"Not as amazing as law school."
"Different amazing."
The conversation flows easier after that. You tell him about Stanford, about your classes, about the firm job you're starting in San Francisco in August. He tells you about the garage, about his sister (she's at Purdue studying veterinary science), about life in Millbrook (some things change, most things don't). "I've been following you," he admits after an hour. "Not in a creepy way. But Wonyoung posts about you sometimes. I couldn't help checking."
"I blocked your social media that first week at Stanford."
"I know. I noticed."
"I had to. If I didn't, I would have looked every day. Tortured myself with missing you."
"Did you? Miss me?"
You look at him—really look. At the boy who taught you to be brave. Who believed in you before you believed in yourself. Who let you go because he loved you too much to hold you back. "Every single day," you admit. "For four years. Every day."
His expression does something complicated. "Me too."
"Then why didn't you call? Text? Anything?"
"Because I made you a promise. To let you go. To let you have your future without me pulling you back."
"That was a stupid promise."
"Maybe. Or maybe it was what we both needed." He reaches across the table, taking your hand. "You did it. Everything you set out to do. Would you have done that if I'd been calling every week? Visiting every break? Being a constant reminder of Millbrook?"
"I don't know," you admit.
"I do. You needed to be free to become who you were meant to be. And look at you." His smile is soft, proud. "You're brilliant. You're successful. You're everything I knew you would be."
"I'm also alone." The admission hurts. "I dated. Nothing stuck. Nobody was—"
"Was me?"
"Was you."
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "I'm still in Millbrook. Still working at a garage. Still the guy who can barely read without colored overlays."
"I don't care about any of that."
"You should. You're about to start your career in San Francisco. You're going to be surrounded by successful people. People who—"
"Are you seriously still doing this? Four years later, you're still telling me I'm too good for you?"
"I'm being realistic."
"You're being scared." You squeeze his hand. "I'm scared too. I don't know how we'd make this work. San Francisco and Millbrook are three thousand miles apart. But—" You pause, heart racing. "But I've spent four years doing the practical thing. The smart thing. The thing everyone expected. And I've been successful and professional and completely miserable."
"You're not—"
"I am. Because I've been trying to fill a hole that's shaped like you." Tears are streaming down your face now. "I love my career. I love what I do. But I don't love doing it alone. I don't love going home every night to an empty apartment. I don't love dating men who check all the boxes except the one that matters."
"What box is that?"
"Making me happy. Making me feel alive. Making me feel like myself." You're full-on crying now. "You did that. Four years ago, in a town I couldn't wait to leave, you made me happier than I've been before or since."
He's crying too. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't want practical. I want you."
"I'm in Millbrook. You're starting a job in San Francisco."
"Then we'll figure it out. Phone calls. Visits. I'll fly home every few months. You can come to California. We'll make it work."
"That's what we said four years ago."
"No. Four years ago you decided we couldn't make it work. You didn't even give us a chance." You stand, pulling him up with you. "I'm not asking for perfect. I'm not asking for easy. I'm asking for a chance to try."
He studies your face, searching for certainty. Whatever he sees must convince him because suddenly he's kissing you, right there in the coffee shop, and it's desperate and perfect and tastes like four years of missing him. When you break apart, you're both laughing and crying. "I can't believe you flew three thousand miles to see me graduate," you say.
"I've been wanting to for four years. Today I finally worked up the courage."
"I'm glad you did."
"Me too." He kisses you again, softer. "So what now?"
"Now we try. For real this time. No clean breaks. No letting each other go."
"Long distance is hard."
"So? Lots of things are hard. We do them anyway because they matter." You smile, using his words from four years ago. "You matter. We matter."
"I love you," he says. "Never stopped."
"I love you too. Let's not waste any more time pretending we don't."
—
SIX MONTHS LATER
You're back in Millbrook for Christmas break, sitting in Miller's Diner in your old booth. Sally brings milkshakes without asking—chocolate for Sunghoon, strawberry for you. "Some things never change," she says, grinning.
"Best things don't," Sunghoon replies.
The past six months have been hard. San Francisco and Millbrook are three thousand miles apart. Your work hours are brutal. His garage has been expanding and demanding more time. But you've made it work. FaceTime calls every night. Visits once a month (you fly to Indiana or he flies to California, alternating). Texts throughout the day, sharing the small moments. It's not perfect. It's often frustrating. But it's worth it. "I've been thinking," Sunghoon says, playing with your fingers across the table.
"About?"
"About the future. Our future."
Your heart skips. "Okay."
"The garage is doing well. Really well. Well enough that I could hire a manager. Take a step back from the day-to-day."
"What would you do instead?"
"Move to California. Be with you."
You nearly drop your milkshake. "What?"
"I've been talking to some shops in San Francisco. There's actually a demand for mechanics who specialize in classic car restoration. I could start my own business. Build it up." He pauses. "But only if you want that. I don't want to pressure you. I know your career is important. I know you need space and independence and—"
You kiss him to shut him up. "Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, I want you to move to California. Yes, I want to build a life with you. Yes to all of it."
His smile is brilliant. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm done with long distance. I want you there when I come home from work. I want weekends together. I want normal."
"Normal is overrated."
"Normal with you isn't."
He pulls a small box from his jacket pocket, and your breath stops. "I was going to wait until Christmas," he says. "Make it romantic. But I can't wait any longer." He opens the box. Inside is a ring—simple, beautiful, with a tiny diamond that catches the diner's lights.
"Four years ago, I let you go because I thought it was the right thing. Turns out, letting you go was the stupidest thing I ever did." He takes your hand. "I don't want to let you go again. Ever. So—will you marry me? Put up with late-night phone calls about carburetor problems? Let me mess up your very organized closet with my disorganized life? Build a future together that's messy and complicated and completely ours?"
You're crying and laughing and nodding all at once. "Yes. Yes, absolutely yes." He slides the ring onto your finger, and it fits perfectly. Like it was always meant to be there.
Sally's watching from behind the counter, grinning. "About damn time," she calls over.
Sunghoon laughs, pulling you around the table to sit in his lap. "We did it backwards. Fell in love, broke up, spent four years apart, and now we're getting engaged."
"Who says there's a right way to do this?"
"Fair point." He kisses you softly. "I love you. Have since that first day in the library when you called me brilliant."
"I love you too. Have since you looked at me like I could save you."
"You did save me. In every way that matters."
You sit in Miller's Diner, in the booth that's been yours for years, with a ring on your finger and a future stretching out ahead of you. It's not the future you planned when you were eighteen and valedictorian and sure you had everything figured out. It's better.
Because plans are just maps, and the best destinations are the ones you find by taking the scenic route. The ones that surprise you. The ones that feel like coming home.
And Sunghoon—dyslexic, street-racing, brilliant Sunghoon—feels exactly like coming home. "What are you thinking?" he asks, reading your expression like he's always been able to.
"That I'm glad I took the assignment. That day in Principal Morrison's office."
"Best assignment you ever got?"
"Best decision I ever made was showing up to tutor you. Second best was getting in this Mustang with you that first Saturday night."
"Third best?"
"Loving you. Choosing you. Over and over, every single time."
His kiss tastes like chocolate milkshake and promise and forever. "Let's get out of here," he says. "I want to take you to the overlook. Show you how Indianapolis looks on a winter night."
"Haven't we been there a thousand times?"
"Yeah, but never as fiancés." He grins. "Every view's better when you know you're keeping it forever."
You leave Miller's Diner hand in hand, and Sally calls out "Congratulations!" as the door swings shut behind you. The Mustang's parked outside, still beautiful, still loud, still the car he built from nothing with patience and skill and determination. Kind of like what you built together. "Ready?" he asks, opening the passenger door for you.
You slide in, the leather seat familiar and perfect. He climbs in the driver's side, starts the engine, and it roars to life. "Ready," you say. And you are. Ready for California. Ready for the future. Ready for whatever comes next, as long as it's with him.
He pulls out of the parking lot, and the Mustang's taillights disappear into the Indiana night, carrying two people who fell in love over milkshakes and literature and the radical act of seeing each other clearly.
Some stories end with goodbye. This one starts with it—and becomes something better.
you were used to matchmaking, after all you were the reason your sister found her boyfriend but truthfully you didn't think much about love for yourself, not until you found yourself feeling more than you should for the local rich boy.
pairing: roommate!jungwon 𝓍 roommate!femreader word count: 22.2K — one-shot ★⋆ content: fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ eventual smut soulmate au, kinda love at first sight, heavily based on xo kitty (but mature), loverboy!jungwon, matchmaker!reader, you don't have to have watched to read this!. SLOW BURN, a whole lot of yearning, jealousy, denial of feelings, introvert reader, refs to aot, refs to beautiful boy, characters from xo kitty, feat bsf!jake & enhypen!
★ | LISTEN ALONG! | PLAYLIST | LIBRARY
⚠︎ : alcohol, nightmares, cheating? (pls js wait) , toxic themes, at some point during this you're going to dislike jungwon but PLEASE let him land. jw loses his mind slightly.. making out, dry humping, spit play (ish), kinda mean!dom!won, fingering, nipple play, hair pulling, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.
— dreams are a form of communication for soulmates—a door into a life that could be. at the first meeting with their soulmate some become fortunate enough to develop dreams of them, it could be of anything, they could even be a background character, it'd be easy to mistake them for usual dreams but only few get blessed—cursed with these dreams.
being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.
their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.
however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.
this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.
you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.
truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.
you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.
before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.
the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.
thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.
the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.
as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.
[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]
a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.
"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.
jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.
he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.
your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.
with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.
"have we met?".
you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.
he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.
the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.
he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.
he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".
he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.
jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.
you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.
he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.
after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.
"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.
after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.
you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.
you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.
"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.
"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.
"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.
jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.
[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]
you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".
"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.
their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.
the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.
he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.
unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.
after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.
you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.
"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.
"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.
you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.
"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.
you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.
jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.
he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.
you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.
"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.
you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.
you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.
he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.
"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.
you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.
as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.
[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]
you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.
he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.
jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.
he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.
his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.
he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.
he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.
he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.
you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.
you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.
"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.
it's not the same.
"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".
you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.
"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.
"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.
"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.
"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.
after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.
without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.
you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".
"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.
"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.
"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.
he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.
"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".
"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.
"let's go home"
his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.
"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.
"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.
"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.
you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.
your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.
"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.
"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.
jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.
"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".
"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.
"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.
you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.
you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.
however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.
you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.
he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.
you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.
"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.
"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.
his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.
you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.
"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.
"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.
"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.
"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".
"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.
"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.
"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.
"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.
"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.
"aren't all love stories?" he countered.
"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.
you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.
jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.
you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.
your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.
"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.
you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.
jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.
that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.
he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.
you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.
so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.
he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.
"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.
"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.
you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.
"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.
you turned to him "perfect... thank you".
his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.
[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]
he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.
he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.
you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.
his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.
you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.
neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.
"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.
"so do you" he managed back.
he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.
you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.
you remembered the words.
and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.
you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.
you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.
you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.
you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.
without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.
the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.
the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.
you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.
he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?
after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.
"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.
he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"
you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".
"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.
"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.
"good or bad dream?" he asked.
"i don't know yet".
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.
jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.
after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.
jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.
he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.
which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.
it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.
so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.
it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.
the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.
even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.
so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.
that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.
his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.
he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.
he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.
he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.
no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.
so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.
"hey, where are you?"
[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]
you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.
the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.
the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.
you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.
nothing more.
the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.
your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.
after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.
you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.
jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.
he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.
"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.
"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.
you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".
yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.
"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?
you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.
"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.
he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.
"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.
the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.
"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.
you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.
his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.
"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.
"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.
it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.
[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]
now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.
jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.
he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.
for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.
"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.
you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.
with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.
jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.
the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.
"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.
you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.
god he thought he was past this.
friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.
you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.
friends. roommates.
you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.
and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.
jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.
you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.
you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.
"i'm right here".
he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.
"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.
"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.
"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.
without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.
he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.
"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.
"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.
he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".
you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."
surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.
you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.
[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]
"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.
"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.
you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.
jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.
you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.
your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?
you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.
his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.
in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.
your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.
you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.
and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.
neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.
you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.
he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.
you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.
but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.
[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]
your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.
you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.
"y/n, hey wake up"
you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.
jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.
he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.
"bad dream?"
"the worst" you sighed.
you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.
"you're okay" he whispered.
you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.
you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.
you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.
it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.
you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.
"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.
"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.
you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.
you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.
"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.
this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.
you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.
"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.
"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.
"like you've never seen me before"
he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.
"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".
you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.
"save that for your soulmate" you joked.
the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.
you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.
your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.
you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.
you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.
after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.
he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.
instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.
you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.
you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".
"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.
you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.
you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.
a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.
you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.
maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.
half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.
you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.
"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.
"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.
[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]
that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.
you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.
only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.
"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.
"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.
"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.
"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"
you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".
you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.
"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.
and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.
"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.
you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".
you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.
not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.
you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.
you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.
you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.
you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.
by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.
you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.
you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.
"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.
"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.
it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.
you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.
jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.
they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.
finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.
"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.
"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.
"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.
by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.
jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.
jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.
maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.
jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.
you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.
this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.
you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.
but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.
you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.
the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.
there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.
as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.
you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.
he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.
you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.
after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.
you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,
"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.
"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".
he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".
you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.
after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.
you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.
you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.
you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.
you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.
"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.
"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.
"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.
silence. dead ghostly silence.
for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.
[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]
the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.
"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.
"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.
you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.
you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.
you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.
"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.
you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.
"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.
"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.
"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.
you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.
you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.
"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.
you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.
"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.
"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.
throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.
you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.
especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.
you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.
"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.
everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.
the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.
"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.
"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.
"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.
"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.
jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.
"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.
"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.
"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.
[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]
"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.
"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.
"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.
you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.
"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.
"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.
"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.
the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.
"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.
"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.
"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.
"is it?"
you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.
jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.
"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.
he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.
"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".
as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.
"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.
"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.
you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.
"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.
you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.
"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".
"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.
"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.
"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.
it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.
when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.
which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.
you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.
you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.
"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.
"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.
"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.
"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.
"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.
"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.
instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.
"are you not leaving?"
"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.
you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..
"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.
"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.
[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]
he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.
but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.
which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.
"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.
if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.
"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.
"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.
the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.
"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.
he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.
only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.
"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.
"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.
"why can't we be?" he asked.
"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.
"so?" he walked closer to you.
"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.
"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.
"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.
"yes, she does".
"does she know everything?" you emphasized.
any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.
"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.
you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.
"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.
even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.
but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.
"fine, we'll see"
because space is easier when only you're aware of it.
he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.
she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.
"hey can we talk?"
you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"
you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.
"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.
"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.
"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.
"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.
but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.
"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.
"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.
you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.
not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.
sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.
[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]
and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.
you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.
"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.
something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.
yeah.. this was not going to work.
you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.
the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.
you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.
you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.
"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.
"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.
"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.
"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.
"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.
you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.
you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.
his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.
and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.
you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.
you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.
"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.
"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.
"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.
he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.
he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.
"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.
his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.
"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.
you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.
"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.
"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.
he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.
your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.
months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.
he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.
"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.
his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.
"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.
you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.
one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap
"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.
he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.
you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.
his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.
[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]
for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.
you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.
"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.
"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.
"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.
"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.
you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.
you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.
because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.
so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.
"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.
"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.
"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.
you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.
yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.
jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.
neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.
"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.
"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.
"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.
you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.
you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.
you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.
as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.
but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.
you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.
your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.
you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.
[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]
with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.
jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.
for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.
his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.
"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.
"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.
"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.
"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.
you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.
"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.
"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.
"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.
"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.
"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.
"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.
"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".
"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.
he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.
"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.
you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.
"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.
his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.
[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]
"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.
your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.
"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.
"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.
"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.
"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.
"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.
"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.
"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.
as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.
but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.
that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.
once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.
"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.
you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.
one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.
his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.
you found me.
your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.
"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.
you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.
"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.
you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.
"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.
he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.
"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.
he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.
"you found me"
he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.
"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.
you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.
"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.
[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]
after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.
you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.
"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.
he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.
"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.
"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..
"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.
you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".
he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.
"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.
you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.
"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.
"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.
"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.
your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.
"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.
your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.
he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.
his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.
"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.
"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.
"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.
you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.
he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.
he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.
he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.
you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.
"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.
"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.
your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.
you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.
"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"
your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.
"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.
"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.
"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.
"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.
as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.
you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.
you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.
you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.
your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.
as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.
he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.
now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.
what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.
and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.
you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.
his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.
"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.
his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.
"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.
"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.
"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.
"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.
"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.
"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.
"i deserved that.."
.⭑ˎˊ˗
time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.
you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.
your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..
yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.
nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.
he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.
one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.
the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.
you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to get them.
after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.
come to the roof
slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.
"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.
"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.
"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.
"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.
he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.
"how did you-" you gasped.
"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.
"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.
"everything?"
"everything."
had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.
───༉‧₊˚. frat house president!jungwon who never loses
⤷ very self-indulgent headcanons about fratboy!jungwon
✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist
⤷ pairing — jungwon x fem!reader
⤷ word count — 6.9k
⤷ enhypen permanent taglist — open !
⤷ warning/s — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), college au, frat!enhypen, fratboy!jungwon, college!jungwon, college!enhypen, business major!jungwon, rich!jungwon, rich kid!jungwon, popular!jungwon, heir!jungwon, jungwon is very down bad, fashion major!reader, sunoo is a good wingman, sunoo is reader’s cousin, mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, smoking (implied), illegal street racing, physical fights, jealousy/possessiveness, fluff
⤷ a/n — as a heeseung stan, i have very mixed feelings about everything happening right now, but i firmly believe he’ll be back—#hopemaxxing !! anyways hi my loves ! i’m finally back for a bit since university is giving me time to breathe again, so here i am. i’m planning to continue the ‘xo, with you’ series if my schedule allows it, and as always, i hope you enjoy !! 🤍
fratboy!jungwon who only attended decelis university to please his father, who wanted him to do something with his life and be a ‘normal young adult’ for once—unbeknownst to them, jungwon had already been living that life back in high school, just in his own way; the kind where silence in a mansion meant freedom, where long business trips meant no supervision.
fratboy!jungwon who turned their empty home into something loud, alive—throwing parties that stretched until sunrise, music echoing through halls that were never meant to hold that kind of mess, jungwon always somewhere in the middle of it, not drunk, not out of control, just watching—because even then, he liked being the one in control.
fratboy!jungwon who took business management as his major just to inherit the family fortune and to please his older sister, who didn’t want to be the next family head—unlike him, who basked in the idea of it, the power, the name, the way people would look at him differently; he still remembers the way she fixed his collar one morning, sighing softly, “you’re the only one who actually wants this,” and jungwon only smiled, because wanting it meant winning it.
fratboy!jungwon who the moment he stepped foot onto campus, heads turned almost instantly, the low hum of his sports car engine dying down as he parked in a free spot right beside a row of flimsy bikes he had to fight the urge to laugh at, twirling his keys lazily around his fingers before tossing them into the glovebox without a second thought—if it got stolen, he could just buy a new one anyway; the door shut softly, but the attention around him wasn’t, whispers already starting before he even took a step.
fratboy!jungwon who didn’t care for the murmurs around him as he walked through the gates like he owned the place, despite it being welcome week for freshmen—which included him.
his hand tucked into his pocket, phone pressed to his ear as he casually spoke to lee heeseung, or what he liked to call his senior, already in his third year.
“don’t make me wait,” heeseung muttered. earning a quiet laugh from the other end.
and it wasn’t just anyone—it was the same heeseung who taught him the basics of throwing a damn good party behind their parents’ backs, the same heeseung who came from a family just as prominent as his.
fratboy!jungwon who only dressed in designer clothing thanks to his older sister, who refused to let him be seen any other way, her words still lingering in his head—“you are not going to be an embarrassment to me, jungwon, and if you do, at least look half-decent”—so he shows up to classes decked out effortlessly, expensive fabrics sitting on him like second skin, not because he really cared, but because reputation did.
fratboy!jungwon who before even becoming a fratboy had every fraternity fighting to have him in their house, for the sake of keeping up a good image or simply for having yang jungwon under their name—for both his status and his looks; he hears the whispers, the offers, the subtle attempts to impress him, but he never answers right away, just watching, amused, like it was all a game he already knew he’d win.
fratboy!jungwon who only nodded and flashed his signature dimpled smirk as heeseung stood next to him, proudly bragging that he was already part of house dark blood—and as corny as the name sounded, jungwon couldn’t deny it was filled with people like him, rich, connected, and familiar, faces he’d seen long before university, so choosing them wasn’t even a question.
fratboy!jungwon who became the president of the house in the blink of an eye despite being a freshman, all because of a bet that may or may not have involved illegal street racing with the former president—who, in his own stupidity, agreed to it while half out of his mind, laughing like it was a joke, only for jungwon to win within minutes.
fratboy!jungwon who stepped out of his car with a wide smirk, leaning against the hood as cheers erupted around him, the night loud and electric, the former president handing him the house keys in quiet shame while sunghoon and the others rushed toward him with wide grins, calling him insane—but jungwon only tilted his head slightly, like it was expected.
fratboy!jungwon who despite all the attention on him and his frat brothers, his eyes still found you across the street, like everything else blurred out the second you stepped into his line of sight—you, in a body-hugging silky black dress paired with heels that clicked softly against the pavement, your shorter stature only making the look more striking, a black leather jacket thrown over your shoulders.
and for a brief moment, jungwon glanced down at himself—black zip-up pulled halfway down, revealing a tank top underneath, baggy jeans layered with chains—and clicked his tongue under his breath, silently cursing himself, “should’ve dressed better”.
fratboy!jungwon who was pulled back into reality by a rough pat on his back from kim sunoo, one of the sophomores he quickly got along with, the older already grinning as he looked at him, “you did good,” sunoo said, voice light and teasing. “why are you so spaced out?”
jungwon didn’t answer right away but sunoo followed his line of sight anyway—and the moment he saw you, a quiet laugh slipped out of him, shoulders shaking slightly as he nudged jungwon’s side. “didn’t know you were into the soft types.”
that was enough to snap jungwon out of it. his head turned sharply, brows furrowing as he looked at him, “you know her?” he muttered, tone low, almost disbelieving.
sunoo only nodded, smile turning knowing as he replied, “yeah, she’s my cousin—(y/n),” letting your name sit for a second—just to make it worse, before adding, “do you want her number?”
fratboy!jungwon who thanks to his pride and ego only shook his head at the idea of needing anything, letting out a quiet scoff as if the entire situation was almost insulting.
“what?” he muttered, tone laced with effortless arrogance. “don’t you trust me?”
a pause, then a faint tilt of his head as if the answer was obvious.
“you’re literally talking to the new president of house dark blood,” just as jay suddenly appeared beside him, dramatically throwing an arm out as if presenting a show, “looks like we got a new frat president—everyone, yang jungwon!”
and just like that, the crowd erupted, cheers and hollers bouncing off the night air as all eyes snapped back to him, but fratboy!jungwon only smiled—slow, smug, controlled—already used to this kind of attention, his gaze briefly dropping to the can of red bull in jay’s hand before he exhaled quietly through his nose, yeah… first thing he’s doing is limiting the energy drink stock back at the house.
fratboy!jungwon who met your eyes again like it was inevitable, like no matter how loud the world got around him, it always circled back to you—sending a flirty smirk your way that wasn’t subtle in the slightest, watching as you blinked once, then twice, clearly caught off guard, the tips of your ears turning red, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks that only made his smirk widen.
and fratboy!jungwon couldn’t help but tilt his head slightly in curiosity because you didn’t fit here, not at all—you looked like the type who preferred quiet mornings, polished nails, soft conversations, the kind who’d rather sit in the passenger seat and be taken care of than stand in the middle of something as loud and reckless as illegal street racing—and yet here you were, standing under dim lights and roaring engines was enough to confuse him.
fratboy!jungwon who felt that same smirk get wiped off his face almost instantly the moment the former president—the same one he beat just minutes ago—started walking toward you, his jaw tightening as his expression darkened, eyes narrowing just slightly.
and jake—one of the third-years jungwon got along with let out a low whistle beside him, the sound cutting subtly through the noise. he exchanged a knowing look with sunoo before muttering under his breath,
“yikes… there he goes again.”
jungwon’s brows furrowed immediately as he glanced at you.
“what do you mean?
jake only shrugged, nudging sunoo lightly like he was passing the responsibility off. “you wanna take this one or—”
sunoo rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the drama, before looking back at jungwon again.
when he spoke again, his voice dropped—just enough to make it feel more serious. “the president—well, former—likes her.”
a small pause.
“and he’s not really the type to take no for an answer… no matter how many times (y/n) rejects him.”
and something about that didn’t sit right with jungwon at all, his eyes flickering back to you, watching the interaction too closely, jaw set as a quiet, almost dangerous thought settled in his head—because you weren’t just some girl anymore, not when you were sunoo’s cousin, not when luck had already placed you right in front of him—and jungwon, for all his control, had never been the type to let something he wanted slip away.
fratboy!jungwon who made it his mission to bother sunoo the moment every painfully boring frat meeting ended—especially when all they did was talk about something as simple as throwing a party to celebrate him.
so now he’s trailing right behind sunoo in the late afternoon, just outside the house, hands tucked in his pockets as he circles him like he’s got something to say (he does), and sunoo doesn’t even look annoyed, just mildly entertained, like he’s dealing with a kid who wants candy.
except this kid could buy the entire store without blinking.
jungwon walks beside him casually before dropping it out of nowhere, voice low, almost too casual, “so… how’s (y/n)?”
and that alone is enough to make sunoo laugh, shaking his head as they step out into the driveway where his car is parked right next to jungwon’s, glancing at him with a teasing smile, “what happened to ‘hi sunoo’ or ‘good afternoon sunoo’?”
fratboy!jungwon who isn’t exactly known for patience, only shrugging slightly as if that counts as a greeting, “good afternoon, sunoo… so, how’s (y/n)?”
sunoo lets out a quiet hum at that, already slipping into his car. he presses a button, and the roof slowly slides back, letting the late afternoon sunlight pour in.
only then does he glance back at jungwon, clearly amused. “you gonna keep asking questions, or are you gonna get in your car and follow me?”
and honestly, jungwon isn’t that hard to convince, huffing softly under his breath as he turns, slipping into his own car and pulling the door shut in one smooth motion, hand immediately reaching for the glove box before starting the engine, eyes flicking toward sunoo just in time to see him pulling out first and heading toward the main road of campus—and jungwon follows without hesitation.
fratboy!jungwon who isn’t someone easily surprised—but he definitely was the moment he and sunoo pulled up and parked in front of a boutique he immediately deemed too girly, too pink, too… not him.
he steps out of his car with a slight raise of his brow as he glanced at the storefront, recognizing the area easily—lined with designer shops he was familiar with—but this one? yeah, he’s never had a reason to step inside somewhere that looked like it catered to silk dresses and soft ribbons when all he ever needed were tailored pants and new silver chains.
jungwon only looks at sunoo like he’s about to question his life choices, but the older only nudges his head forward, silently telling him to follow.
and jungwon can only mutter a quiet, “oh, for fuck’s sake,” under his breath before pushing the door open, the soft chime of the bell greeting them as they step inside.
fratboy!jungwon who isn’t entirely surprised when his eyes land on you almost immediately—standing near a rack, carefully picking between two dresses hung in front of you, your fingers lightly brushing over the fabric like you were trying to decide which one spoke to you more, another pile of clothes stacked messily beside a chair already overflowing with options—and it’s such a contrast to everything he’s used to that he just… watches for a second.
sunoo doesn’t hesitate though, already striding in with a bright, “(y/n)!” that makes you turn quickly, your expression softening into a small smile the moment you recognize him.
and then shifting into confusion when your gaze flickers to jungwon standing beside him—but before you can even ask, sunoo is already speaking again, clearing his throat,
“i brought jungwon with me, hope you don’t mind—and don’t worry, my sister already knows,”
you offer a small, polite smile in response, and jungwon catches it instantly, something about it making him straighten just slightly. his eyes flicker briefly to a sign nearby that reads ‘kim’s atelier,’ the name settling in his mind before his attention drifts right back to you.
only for sunoo to suddenly mutter something about needing to check on his sister, already backing away toward another part of the boutique, leaving the two of you standing there in a quiet that feels a little too intentional.
fratboy!jungwon who doesn’t hesitate in approaching you, but still keeps a respectable distance, like he knows better than to crowd you too fast, flashing that signature dimpled smile as his hands slip into the pockets of his trousers, sleeves of his black button-up slightly rolled, exposing toned arms that flex subtly with every movement.
he tilts his head, voice light, almost amused, “typical sunoo,”
and the soft giggle that slips past your lips right after is enough to make something in his chest loosen, a quiet relief settling in as you shake your head slightly, “i know… don’t think too much about it, he’s always been weird like that.”
jungwon only hums in agreement, eyes flickering briefly—noticing the way you’re dressed, the soft fabrics, the shorter skirt, the pile of clothes beside you that all follow the same theme—and he takes note of it, stores it somewhere in his head.
fratboy!jungwon who suddenly finds himself silently thanking his older sister for every forced shopping trip she dragged him to. his gaze drops to the dresses in your hands, tilting his head slightly before speaking without hesitation, “either would look good on you.”
his tone carried a kind of confidence that doesn’t sound like a guess, and it shows in the way your cheeks warm almost instantly, but he doesn’t stop there.
he steps just a little closer—still careful—eyes scanning the fabrics as he adds, “the one on the right brings out your eyes… but the other one’s different—the ruffles at the hem make it softer, more delicate… or, at least, that’s what my sister says.”
he finishes with a small shrug, like he’s brushing it off, but the quick look of admiration on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.
and internally, jungwon is thanking every possible god for that one piece of information he bothered to remember. he lets out a quiet breath, slipping back into something smoother, more practiced, as he pulls one hand out of his pocket and offers it to you, “yang jungwon.”
and the moment you place yours in his, softly replying, “kim (y/n),” he doesn’t hesitate—lifting your hand just slightly, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles, slow enough to mean something, just enough to make your breath hitch and your cheeks flush deeper.
and jungwon only chuckles under his breath, still holding your hand—longer than necessary, longer than polite—because it’s soft, because it’s warm, and because he doesn’t see a reason to let go just yet.
fratboy!jungwon who lets you drag him through hallways after class, even if it’s only been a few weeks, even if people are already staring—because there he is, yang jungwon, walking around campus in all black, plain sweater, baggy pants, silver rings catching the light… holding a very obviously pink tote bag covered in bows that sticks out like a sore thumb.
yet he doesn’t complain.
he just adjusts his grip slightly as you hum beside him, glancing at your phone before looking back up with a small frown, “have you eaten lunch yet?”
jungwon only shakes his head, dark bangs falling over his eyes as he answers easily, “no… but i could eat. do you want to?”
before he can even say anything else, you’re already stepping closer, gently nudging him to the side to avoid the crowd before reaching up without hesitation to fix his hair, fingers brushing against his forehead as you smooth the strands down.
for a second, jungwon goes still—not because he’s surprised, but because he can smell your perfume, soft vanilla lingering too close, settling somewhere in his mind as something he needs to remember, something that already feels familiar in a way he can’t explain.
fratboy!jungwon who starts picking you up after every class like it’s become part of his routine, going out of his way to drive toward your building even after long frat meetings, barely sparing a glance at anyone as he mutters quick goodbyes, already halfway out the door.
heeseung just huffs behind him, shaking his head, “he’s down bad that fast?”
jay only laughs, leaning back in his seat, “hey, at least he’s useful—those donation drive ideas? we already have three lined up and the event isn’t even for weeks.”
and jungwon doesn’t even hear them anymore, too busy tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulls up outside your building, eyes scanning the entrance like he’s waiting for something important.
fratboy!jungwon who finds himself willingly subjected to your projects—of course you were a fashion major, and somehow, despite the very real mannequin standing untouched in the corner of your dorm, he ends up being your personal one.
he stands still as you adjust fabrics against him, pinning here and there with careful precision, your fingers brushing his arms, his shoulders, his chest—and jungwon, who usually hates being told what to do, just… lets you.
even humming softly under his breath without realizing it, something he never does, no matter how content he is, but there’s something about you, about the way you focus, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted in concentration, that makes him stay still longer than necessary, enjoying it more than he should.
fratboy!jungwon who leans casually against your door once you’re both done, hands resting loosely on your hips as you fix the tie hanging crooked around his neck, fingers brushing against the fabric, adjusting it with small, precise movements while he watches you from above, amused.
you hum teasingly, “remind me why you’re dressed like a business student again?” even though he’s only in a white button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show his arms, a plain black tie clipped neatly with a small prada pin—and he chuckles under his breath, watching your brows furrow in concentration as you try to fix it properly, finding it a little too amusing how you barely reach his adam’s apple, when you’re not in heels.
tilting his head slightly, he feigns a pout, “baby, i am a business major—you wound me.”
you let out a quiet laugh, pressing your palms lightly against his chest as you smooth the fabric one last time. “all done.”
jungwon just looks at you for a second too long, something soft and obvious in his eyes, a lovesick expression he doesn’t even try to hide as he murmurs, “thank you, baby.”
only for you to hum back casually, “yeah, you’re welcome—now go, you’re gonna be late for your photoshoot,”
fratboy!jungwon who immediately lets that pout return, deeper this time, brows knitting together slightly as he leans closer, “don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already?”
you roll your eyes, slipping away from him to grab his bag and keys from your bed before placing them into his hands. he sighs dramatically, shaking his head, “can’t believe my own girl is kicking me out of her room.”
even though you aren’t his—not yet—but you don’t argue.
you just roll your eyes again before stepping closer, rising onto your toes, hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, quick but enough to leave him completely still for a second.
his breath catches somewhere in his chest as he blinks down at you, caught off guard in a way that almost never happens—until you pull back, smiling like it was nothing, “now go on, that fraternity photoshoot won’t wait, jungwon,”
when he finally turns to leave, he doesn’t even bother wiping off the very obvious pink gloss you left on his cheek, walking out like that on purpose, smugly claiming it as his—and with the way his grin slowly spreads after that—yeah, there’s no way he was saying no to you now.
fratboy!jungwon who finds himself in a situation he never thought he’d be in—grumbling under his breath as he waits outside his older sister’s building, leaning against the side of his car while the engine hums low, the sound filling the silence.
students pass by and sneak glances at him, and despite the rumors about them not getting along—because of their differences, because she’s already a senior about to graduate while he’s just a freshman—he still came.
he watches her approach from a distance, arms crossed as she stops in front of him, raising a brow, “what are you doing here, jungwon?”
for a second, he almost backs out, almost brushes it off like it was nothing—but he sighs instead, muttering something under his breath, only for her to frown, “speak up, i can’t hear you with all that muttering,”
jungwon finally lifts his head, jaw tight, ears and cheeks faintly flushed against his usual composed expression as he blurts out, “how do i ask a girl out?”
it sounds wrong coming from him—yang jungwon, who’s never had to ask for anything twice, who’s never needed help with something like this—and yet here he is, standing in front of the one person he swore he wouldn’t go to.
fratboy!jungwon who can’t help the small smile that slips onto his face when he takes you out to eat somewhere near campus, sitting across from you as you lean forward without hesitation to try the ramen he ordered, only to immediately stick your tongue out, wincing at the burn as your eyes water.
before you can even say anything, he’s already reaching for the nearest cup, sliding it toward you, “careful,” he mutters.
you take it with teary eyes, and for a second, he just watches you—he had to look away for a second, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his composure—because you look cute, and he’s not used to thinking like that, not used to wanting to say it out loud, so he keeps it to himself, settling for a quiet huff instead.
fratboy!jungwon who surprisingly doesn’t mind you dragging him around malls, even if he used to hate long walks and anything remotely tiring that didn’t involve working out, illegal street racing, or picking fights with people he thought were too full of themselves—now he just follows a step behind you without complaint.
fratboy!jungwon who now finds himself sitting patiently on benches or outside fitting rooms, phone in hand as he takes pictures of you spinning around in skimpy skirts and body-hugging dresses, different colors, different styles, capturing every little turn and smile like it’s important, nodding in approval each time like your opinion somehow depends on his, like he’s already decided everything looks good on you anyway.
fratboy!jungwon who never saw the need to spend his money on anything he considered useless—outside of his own parties, frat events, occasional charity drives (not just for image, he tells himself), and new cars—to him, money was a tool. something to maintain status, control, reputation; never something to waste on small, meaningless things—that’s just how he was raised.
fratboy!jungwon who somehow throws that standard out the window when it comes to you. now he’s the one paying for your overly sweet matcha drinks and tiny cakes without a second thought, covering every shopping spree you drag him into, even offering to pay for your nail appointments like it’s nothing—and the moment you show him a pretty pink set with black details, shyly mentioning you wanted to incorporate him into it, something in him just… settles, a quiet satisfaction he doesn’t question, because at this point it’s obvious—yang jungwon isn’t just spending money anymore, he’s investing in you, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.
fratboy!jungwon who finds himself thinking about you in the middle of football games—something that should be impossible given how loud everything gets, how focused he’s supposed to be—but somehow you still slip into his mind, even when he only joined because heeseung and ni-ki dragged him into it, ending up as a winger like it was nothing, sprinting down the field with sharp precision, breath steady, eyes locked in—yet there’s a moment, just before he makes a play, where he mutters under his breath, almost instinctively, “i’ll win this for you.”
even if you aren’t there—busy with your projects or somewhere on campus catching up with sunoo, and it’s ridiculous, really, how much it drives him—but he doesn’t question it.
fratboy!jungwon who is still the same cocky, egotistical yang family heir everyone knows—the same freshman who somehow became the president of house dark blood because of some illegal street racing bet, the same guy who scoffs at the idea of effort when his money already gets him everything, the same one who doesn’t hesitate to throw a punch just to blow off steam—but there’s something slightly different now, something people notice even if they can’t fully place it, because rumors spread fast in decelis.
fratboy!jungwon who has whispers following him in halls about how yang jungwon has a thing now—a fling? a girlfriend? no one really knows, and jungwon doesn’t bother correcting them, because to him, labels don’t matter, not when you’re already his anyways. the way his arm naturally wraps around your waist when you walk together after class, the way he guides you into the frat house without a second thought, ignoring the stares, the whispers, like none of it matters as long as you’re beside him.
fratboy!jungwon who gets into fights on purpose whenever someone looks at you the wrong way, or when someone else stares a second too long, jaw tightening just enough before he moves without thinking, because control has always been his thing—but when it comes to you, it slips just slightly.
he smirks to himself when he feels the jealous stares around him when you’re together, like he knows exactly what he has, and he doesn’t hesitate to get his knuckles bloodied just because someone got a little too comfortable talking to you while he was gone for a minute.
“watch (y/n) for me, yeah?” he mutters to heeseung before lunging forward, thankful—if anything—that he decided to wear plenty of silver rings that day.
heeseung only sighs, shaking his head, though the amused, almost proud grin he exchanges with jake doesn’t go unnoticed, muttering under his breath, “kids these days.”
as fratboy!jungwon walks back like nothing happened, barely even bothered—and what makes him smile more, what really gets to him, is that you don’t look at him any differently, don’t question it, don’t scold him—the first thing you do is reach for his hand, brows soft with concern as you ask, “do you need a band-aid?” and just like that, all the tension in him melts.
fratboy!jungwon who doesn’t even give you the chance to refuse his invitations to their frat parties—the same parties he meticulously plans during meetings with his frat brothers, already thinking three steps ahead—including you, already coordinating your matching outfits in his head as he casually explains it to you like it’s already decided.
“we should go with red and black this time,” he says, voice thoughtful as his fingers lace with yours.
“i got you this wine red lace dress a few days ago, remember?” he trails off slightly, more to himself now than to you—“maybe i could wear a red leather jacket…”
then he glances back at you, eyes soft but expectant, “what do you think, baby?”
you only shake your head, feigning annoyance as you drag him toward his car, “what makes you think i’m even going?” but jungwon’s quick—always quick—gently pulling you back, hands settling around your waist as he leans down just slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.
“because i told sunoo to cancel his plans with you on friday so both of you could come,” pausing just long enough before adding with a quiet scoff, “he’s an annoying little shit anyway, he keeps stealing you from me.”
fratboy!jungwon who always has an arm around you as he leads you through the chaos of his own party, guiding you toward a quieter corner like he’s done this a hundred times before. the frat house already packed inside and out, people crowding near the pool—something jay very clearly warned against unless they wanted to deal with him later, because he refused to call the housekeepers just to clean up someone’s mess.
the flashing strobe lights replace the main ones, casting everything in neon hues that make the whole place feel more like a club than a frat house, music loud enough to shake the walls as you laugh beside him, watching sunoo try—and fail—to snatch his beer bottle back from sunghoon, who only does it to mess with him.
jungwon takes a slow sip of his whiskey before raising his voice over the music, “can you two at least break that outside? i don’t need broken bottles on my damn floor.”
that only earns a wider grin from sunghoon as sunoo curses loudly, already chasing after him, “oh, for fuck’s sake, jungwon!”
jungwon just laughs, looking back down at you with the same amused smile. even with your heels giving you height, he still leans closer when you mutter, “you’re such a menace.”
he doesn’t deny it—just dips down slightly to press a soft kiss to your lips, the faint taste of whiskey lingering—pulling back with a small grin as he murmurs, “you love me for it”
you hadn’t exactly planned on finishing the bottle, but with the looming threat of exams finally behind you and no morning lectures to sober up for, the champagne went down a little too easy. now, you were far gone—hazy, heavy-lidded, and prone to dissolving into giggles at things that weren't even funny.
the sound bubbled past your lips again when fratboy!jungwon backed you against his bedroom door, his mouth crashing onto yours with a desperate kind of hunger.
he didn’t seem to mind the way your gloss smeared across his cheek or the corner of his lips; he was too busy pinning you there, one arm braced firmly against the wood while his other hand wandered dangerously low, bunching the fabric of your dress to pull you flush against him.
away from the muffled bass of the party downstairs, the room felt stiflingly hot. you felt the cool friction of his red leather jacket under your palms as his lips trailed down your jawline, eventually settling against the sensitive skin of your throat.
he was alternating between soft, bruising sucks and sharp nips that made your eyes roll back to the back of your head. your head fell back, fingers clutching the leather of his shoulders for some kind of leverage, and you swallowed back a whine that caught in your chest.
jungwon pulled back just an inch, his breath hot against your skin as he let out a low, rough grunt of disapproval. he tilted his head, eyes dark and focused entirely on you, “don’t quiet down now,” he murmured, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “i wanna hear that pretty voice of yours, baby.”
you didn’t know how it got to this point, but all you could remember were articles of your clothing being thrown haphazardly onto the carpeted floor, your heels somewhere in the dimly lit room. your dress was bunched down at your waist as the soft, expensive sheets of fratboy!jungwon’s bed overtook your senses.
the room felt like it was spinning, the distant thump of bass from the party downstairs vibrating through the walls, but it all faded into nothing compared to the raw, pounding rhythm of jungwon’s hips slamming against yours.
his cock stretched you wide, dragging along every sensitive ridge inside your clenching pussy with each brutal thrust, the wet sounds of skin slapping skin echoing louder than the music. you could feel every inch of him—thick, veined, pulsing with heat—as he buried himself to the hilt, his balls smacking against your ass with a lewd, rhythmic tap that made your toes curl.
“fuck, look at you,” jungwon growled low in his throat, his voice rough and breathless as he pulled back just enough to watch your face contort in ecstasy. his dark eyes locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with lust, sweat dripping from his brow onto your flushed skin.
he shifted his weight, one hand pinning your thigh harder against your chest to keep you folded beneath him, exposing you completely.
the new angle let him grind deeper, his tip nudging that sweet spot inside you that sent sparks exploding behind your eyelids. “taking my cock so well, like you were made for it. those pretty nails scratching me up—yeah, just like that, baby. mark me. show everyone downstairs who owns this pussy now.”
your breath hitched, a desperate whine spilling from your lips as his words sank in, fueling the fire coiling tight in your belly. the pain from your nails raking down his flexed biceps mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, making your walls flutter around him, sucking him in greedier with every plunge.
“j-jungwon… oh god, it's too much,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a sob as tears of pure bliss welled up in your eyes. but even as you said it, your hips bucked up to meet his, chasing the friction, the fullness that had you teetering on the edge.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as it pressed against your heaving breasts, his thumb circling your nipple roughly before pinching it hard enough to make you yelp.
“too much? nah, you can take it. i paid for those nails just so you could dig ‘em into me while i fuck you senseless.” leaning down, he nipped at your earlobe, hot breath fanning over your neck littered with his possessive bites. “tell me how it feels, baby. tell me how my cock’s ruining this tight little pussy.”
the demand sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you, your body arching off the sheets as he snapped his hips forward again, harder, faster, the carpet muffling the creak of the bedframe. “it—ah! it feels so good, won… so deep,” you stammered, your words tumbling out in a rush between moans.
your hands clutched at his shoulders now, nails biting into the muscle there, leaving crescent-shaped indents that made him hiss in approval. the expensive sheets twisted beneath you, damp with sweat, clinging to your skin as the cool air of the room contrasted sharply with the scorching heat where your bodies connected.
jungwon’s pace didn’t let up—if anything, it quickened, his grunts growing more animalistic as he chased his own release, but he was relentless in drawing yours out first. “that’s it, scream for me. let the whole fucking frat hear how i’m splitting you open.”
he captured your mouth again, the kiss messy and devouring, teeth clashing as his tongue mimicked the thrust of his cock. saliva trailed from the corner of your lips when he pulled away, only to spit inside, watching with a smug grin as you swallowed eagerly, your throat working visibly.
“good fucking girl,” he praised, voice dripping with condescension that only made you clench tighter around him. his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit swollen and slick, rubbing firm circles that had your vision blurring.
the dual assault—his cock pounding relentlessly, hitting that spot over and over, and his skilled fingers working you—pushed you closer, the pressure building like a storm about to break. “cum for me, baby. soak my dick. i wanna feel you gush all over me while i breed this pussy.”
you were lost, utterly consumed, your whimpers turning into full-throated cries as the orgasm crashed over you. your walls spasmed wildly around his thrusting cock, milking him as waves of pleasure ripped through you, your body trembling violently beneath his.
“jungwon! fuck, yes—i’m cumming!” the words tore from your throat, raw and desperate, as you scratched fresh lines down his back, the pain spurring him on.
he groaned deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his thrusts grew erratic, hips stuttering. “shit, that’s it… so tight, baby. gonna fill you up—mark you from the inside.”
with a final, powerful thrust, he came, hot spurts of cum flooding your pussy, coating your walls as he rode out his release, grinding deep to push every drop inside. his body shuddered against yours, breaths ragged, but even in the aftershocks, his grip on you didn’t loosen—he held you close, possessive, as if he never planned to let go.
fratboy!jungwon who leans his forehead against yours after tiring you out, breath still uneven but softer now. he presses slow, lingering kisses across your cheeks just to hear those quiet giggles spill out of you. your hands come up to cup his face, thumbs brushing lightly over his skin, but jungwon is quicker.
one of his hands slides over yours, turning it gently so he can press a soft kiss against your palm, holding it there for a second longer than needed while maintaining the softest eye contact he can manage—something uncharacteristically gentle in his gaze.
you smile at him, brushing his hair away from his eyes, and he just melts into it, leaning in again to press a soft peck against your lips, barely there—but it’s followed by a quiet, almost mumbled: “i love you,”
fratboy!jungwon carefully excuses himself afterward, making sure you’re settled properly on his bed first. he pulls the covers over you for a moment before disappearing into the bathroom. when he comes back out, he’s in nothing but his boxers, a few damp towels in hand. he kneels beside you again, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before he starts cleaning you up. his movements are slow, careful.
soft apologies escape under his breath every time you so much as wince. “i’m sorry, baby… just a little more, okay?” his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it, almost worried as he glances up at you, “i didn’t hurt you too much, did i?”
you have to reassure him, soft words, small kisses pressed against his jaw, fingers brushing his hair back as he focuses on taking care of you.
fratboy!jungwon who dresses you just as carefully afterward, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realizes your dress isn’t ruined, no stains, no damage—but the marks he left? yeah, he’s definitely proud of those, the faint smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes linger a little too long on your neck and chest, earning an exasperated eye roll from you as he casually drapes his red leather jacket over your shoulders so it matches your outfit, leaving himself in his black button-down, unbuttoned far too low—but he doesn’t care, not when your lipstick marks are still visible across his skin, something he has absolutely no intention of wiping off, at least not until the party’s over.
fratboy!jungwon who sits with you on his lap by the pool, holding you just enough to keep you comfortable, one hand resting lazily on your thigh while the other grips a bottle of beer, both of you illuminated by the soft glow of pool lights and the fairy lights you practically begged him to put up earlier, the atmosphere calmer out here compared to the chaos inside as you chat with sunoo lounging nearby.
while jungwon half-listens, half-argues with heeseung about something as stupid as ramen preferences, the conversation getting mildly heated until heeseung eventually sighs and excuses himself to grab more drinks from inside—and that’s when jungwon’s attention shifts, eyes flickering toward the open back door across the pool, landing on a face he immediately recognizes.
fratboy!jungwon who smirks—slow, wide, completely egoistic—the moment he sees him. the same guy he beat to become president of the frat. the same guy who lost everything that night because he was too cocky, too careless. and now… the same guy who thinks jungwon ‘stole’ you from him, even if you never once acknowledged him the way he wanted you to.
and the look on his face now? pure, burning anger, eyes dragging over you sitting comfortably on jungwon’s lap, over the jacket around your shoulders, over the lipstick stains spread across jungwon’s chest.
jungwon just drinks it in, unbothered, amused even, taking a slow sip of his beer without breaking eye contact before casually lifting his hand to flip him off—subtle but intentional.
he leans down to press a soft kiss to your head like nothing happened, when you glance up at him, clueless, he only murmurs lowly, “keep talking to sunoo, baby.”
his voice is calm—but his eyes were sharp, victorious—because in the end, it’s always the same with yang jungwon: he gets what he wants, and he never loses.
Seoul’s boxing world is all champagne, flashing cameras, and designer suits — at least on the surface. Beneath it, the Shim empire was built on blood dressed up as luxury: violence, dirty money, underground fights. Men powerful enough to bury bodies and call it business. And you belong to the worst of them. As the daughter of Shim Group’s CEO, you’ve spent your entire life playing the role expected of you — untouchable, elegant, useful. But when YANG JUNGWON , a gifted fighter with bruised knuckles and quiet honesty, crashes into your world from Mapo-gu, and LEE HEESEUNG — heir to your family’s greatest enemy — starts pulling at secrets meant to stay buried, the carefully controlled life you’ve built begins to unravel. All while PARK SUNGHOON , your oldest and most familiar mistake, knows every ugly part of you that nobody else gets to see. The deeper the three of them pull you in, the harder it becomes to separate love from manipulation, loyalty from possession, and truth from performance. And when the truth finally surfaces, someone will bleed for it. Maybe everyone will.
featuring; yangjungwon x leeheeseung x parksunghoon x female!reader
estimated word count!! (Ongoing)
themes! legacy as a prison , performance vs reality , love as consumption , class disparity , power imbalance , manipulation , violence hidden under beauty , the fantasy of escape , moral corruption , loneliness
content warnings for each chapter will be stated before. the following work is a work of fanfiction and does not reflect the personalities, thoughts and actions of the real people. this fanfiction will alternate between five different POVS including; reader, jungwon, heeseung, sunghoon and jake.
The academic excellence pin fastened neatly to your blazer proves that you rank first in the grade. The gold plaques displayed inside the gymnasium prove that you’re the MVP of every sports team you join. Certificates stacked carefully in folders at home prove that you volunteer regularly at the local library, participate in student council activities, attend leadership seminars during school holidays.
You learned pretty early on that being smart was safer. If you did everything right, if your work was always perfect, no one bothered to look any deeper than the surface.
It worked well enough. At least until you started working at Café Maid Latte.
The café feels almost offensively incompatible with the person you spent years constructing at school.
The uniforms are absolutely ridiculous. Pinned up like a doll, your outfit consists of lace-trimmed aprons tied neatly at the waist, little satin ribbons fastened carefully beneath your collarbone, and white cuffs buttoned delicately around your wrists. Your manager insists the curled eyelashes and glossy lips are “part of the experience,” which sounds vaguely threatening every time he says it.
The entire experience has been nothing short of humiliating.
Still, the pay is good.
You’re fixing your lip gloss in the reflection of the glass dessert displays when the bell above the café door chimes. Your eyes perk up automatically, your voice purring like cotton candy melting on the tongue.
“Welcome home, mast—”
The rest dies in your throat.
Because Heeseung has just walked in.
At the mere sight of him, you experience a rush of loathing so pure and visceral it feels akin to wonder. His uniform blazer is completely damp from the rain outside, his dark hair tousled and falling slightly beneath his eyebrows. He pauses near the entrance, gaze moving lazily across the café before landing directly on you.
Heeseung smiles with one side of his mouth, an expression so insincere you would rather he scowl. Heat shoots up in your face. You can sense Heeseung’s quiet glee, his delight at your embarrassment.
Of course, Heeseung would find this amusing.
Everybody knew Heeseung. He was the most well-known guy on campus for more reasons than one. He knows he has the kind of charm that can get him away with almost anything or anyone he wants.
That was precisely the problem.
He’s loud, obnoxious, carelessly arrogant… and undeniably attractive. His ego is enormous — genuinely, impressively unbearable — and somehow nobody else seems to notice. Or worse, they do notice and simply don’t care.
He skips class constantly, usually only appearing on exam days because he claims lectures are “boring” and insists he can learn perfectly fine from reading slides and textbooks alone. Infuriatingly enough, he’s right. All the teachers complain about his attendance while simultaneously handing back his test papers with near-perfect scores circled neatly at the top in red.
Worst of all, Heeseung knows exactly what he’s doing.
You can see it now in the way his gaze drifts slowly over you, soaking you in all your glory.
To the lace-trimmed apron tied around your waist. Then the ridiculous little maid headband pinned carefully to your hair. Then back to your maroon complexion again.
“No,” you immediately say.
He lifts an eyebrow incredulously. “No?”
“You didn’t see anything.”
A quiet laugh escapes from his lips, like he’s trying not to make it obvious how entertained he is. “I’m pretty sure I did.”
Like a walking heart attack in heels, you walk over to him, grabbing his sleeve, and leading him away from the noise of the café to an empty table tucked in the back corner, where it’s quiet and out of sight.
“You need to leave,” you hiss quietly, shoving him into a seat.
He leans back casually, stretching one arm along the back of the chair like he has all the time in the world. “Why?”
“Because this is really humiliating,” you say flatly, glancing over your shoulder instinctively to make sure none of your co-workers has realised your absence.
His smile widens even further. “You think this is humiliating?”
You cross your arms, your sparkly lips forming a pout. “Yes.”
“I think it’s cute.”
Your eye twitches. “Nothing about this is cute.”
“See, that’s where we disagree.”
You blink up at him, lashes thick and fake. The silence between you two stretches for too long, and you become painfully aware of how small this corner is. Of how close he is. Of how he looks too calm.
You narrow your eyes at him. “Stop sitting like that,” you say sharply.
You most definitely had a sweet face but a sharp tongue. Heeseung always knew that. He blinks once. “Like what?”
“Like you belong here.”
A beat passes.
Then his mouth curves slightly upwards. “I do belong here. I’m a customer. And I have to say I won’t be leaving a good review. You haven’t even taken my order yet.”
The absurdity of it almost makes you scoff, but it gets caught somewhere in your throat before it can fully form. Instead, what comes out is much harsher.
“You are a problem,” you correct him immediately.
The words bubble out of your mouth before you can stop them. It’s a tone that has worked on teachers, teammates, club presidents—anyone who gets in the way of the version of you at school. And all this has proven so far is how Heeseung has collapsed your school identity and maid identity into one.
Heeseung remains entirely at ease, as though nothing about this interaction has unsettled him in the slightest. Then, as if deciding not to push further (for now), he finally leans back in his chair again, the tension in the space easing just slightly.
“Then I’ll order,” he says matter-of-factly.
You hesitate for half a second too long before nodding, turning away before he can see anything else slip through your expression. You make it without really thinking, like your hands already know what to do. After months here, it feels like second nature.
The soft sponge cake gets cut into neat layers, and cream is spread in between with a steady hand. Strawberries are washed, sliced thin, and placed carefully on top. A drizzle of thick syrup goes over everything, coating it deliciously. You finish with whipped cream piped in small swirls along the top.
It ends up looking like something too adorable to eat. The dessert sits in front of him, too cute for someone who has been nothing but loud and unbothered since the moment he walked in.
For once, Heeseung doesn’t speak immediately. He just looks at it. And then at you. And looks at it again.
“…For me?” he asks, his voice dropping slightly.
You don’t let yourself hesitate for long. “Yes. Eat it and leave.”
That gets a small laugh out of him. He takes the spoon anyway, digging into the dessert.
“…You made this?” he asks, whip cream staining the corner of his mouth. You fight the urge to reach over and swipe it away with the touch of your thumb.
“It’s a café,” you shrug. “We all make it technically.”
“Mm.”
He finishes more slowly than he needs to, like he’s dragging the moment out without wanting to admit it. When he finally stands up, the chair legs scrape lightly against the floor. He pauses at the counter instead of leaving straight away.
“I’ll come back,” he says simply, like he’s already decided it to be true.
Your brows knit together. “Don’t. Please.”
Your pleading makes him chuckle again. “Too late.”
Then he leaves. The bell above the door chimes softly behind him, the downpour swallowing him up almost immediately.
And you stay there behind the register for a moment longer than you should, staring blankly at the space he just occupied, wondering why it suddenly feels like something got left behind that wasn’t the dessert.
synopsis. heeseung loves omegas, but he doesn’t believe in mates—especially fated ones. that kind of destiny is reserved for people like riki and jay. but then he meets you. and the first thing you ask him to do is scent-mark you: an intimate activity shared only between mates. a spin-off from love me (k)not!
warnings. slightly suggestive, fated mates-coded, power imbalance, unjust system and society, harassment against omegas (not by heeseung), &team cameo but they're assholes here sorry! i love them though dw, mating mark, scent-marking, heeseung is a dominant alpha, and a bigger asshole i fear, reader is a cheerleader, alpha!jay being our target again (sorry), alpha!riki, alpha!sunghoon, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, sunoo is bi, heeseung is also bi, this omegaverse is partly made up by me! but it’s just a tiny portion of it just to keep the plot going, denial, rejection, angst, not beta read we die like injang, please let me know if i missed anything!
word count. 21,280 words
note. please read this before proceeding 🤎 everything here is purely fictional and it has nothing to do with the members as a person outside of this fanfiction 🤎 also idk how cheerleading works so pls bear with me...
In a private booth of a nightclub, a group of long-legged, broad-shouldered alphas huddle around the table, drinks in hands. The air is layered with pheromones and adrenaline, occasionally flashing with neon lights and blurred with thin smoke.
In the middle of the couch, Heeseung sits leisurely, manspreading with ease. On either side of him, Jay and Riki lean back in a similar posture, each of them engaged in the conversation bouncing between the team.
The team has just won a friendly match against their long-sworn rival, a university from the east, after a frustrating streak of loss for two consecutive tournaments. It wasn’t really a landslide win, considering their competitive skills, but a win is a win. A satisfied smirk curls around Heeseung’s bow-shaped lips, his alpha purring with pride.
Friendly or not, the whiskey surely tastes extra sweet tonight.
“Did you see K’s face just now?” Riki pipes up from his left, still buzzing with adrenaline. Being the last man to score and secure the win for them, it’s obviously hard for Riki to contain his enthusiasm. He’s beaming wide. “I did that. I wiped that smirk off his face, gentlemen!”
The rest of the team roars in reply, infected by Riki’s contagious excitement. Heeseung and Jay wear a fond smile on their lips, clearly delighted to see the younger alpha’s happiness. Glasses clink again as they toast to their win, and to their future wins, and to the sexy, beautiful cheerleading omegas that played a part in keeping their spirits up just now—to which Jay grimaces and Riki rolls his eyes at. Heeseung snorts.
He forgets that he’s friends with a prude and a loyal, claimed alpha.
“Speaking of omegas,” Heeseung tilts his head at Riki when the chatters break into small groups of conversations among the team, leaving him to talk to two of his closest friends. “It’s a surprise to see you here, Ki. Like seeing a four-leaf clover.”
Jay joins in, his signature lopsided grin on display. “I half-expected you to run home to your girlfriend. It’s hard to see you hang out with us at the club now, pup.”
Riki crosses his arms with a dramatic huff. His bottom lip juts out in a pout. In this light, when Riki shows this side of him, free from fake nonchalance and his cool persona, Heeseung sees him ten years younger than his actual age. Riki is so cute.
“I fully expected to run home to her too, hyung. But she forced me to come here. Said something like I should celebrate my win with y’all,” Riki sighs, messing with his newly-dyed hair and tipping his head back. “So here I am. Drinking with you idiots when I could’ve cuddled with my sweet, sweet omega at home.”
Jay feigns offence while Heeseung laughs. The both of them know too well of Riki’s devotion to his girlfriend. Maybe it’s the alpha-omega bond, or just the fact that they’ve known each other practically their whole lives, but Riki is never at ease whenever she’s not around.
But tonight, the alpha seems more relaxed than usual. He’s not playing with his fingers or toying with the hem of his shirt like he always did when his girlfriend is absent. Heeseung wonders why the sudden change until he catches a glimpse of something at the back of Riki’s neck.
His brows furrow. His movement falters mid-air.
“Riki? Is that…” Heeseung squints his eyes, trying to see better while the tips of Riki’s ears slowly redden. From his right, Heeseung can hear a soft gasp from Jay.
“Holy shit. Is that your mating mark, Ki?”
It is. It is a mating mark, Heeseung realises, when a purple neon light flashes on Riki’s wounded skin. The alpha is rubbing his neck sheepishly now, heat sweeping across his cheeks. Despite his sudden shy demeanour, Heeseung can smell the pride in his sandalwood scent, and in that moment he finally notices the subtle layer of sweet vanilla—Riki’s girlfriend’s scent—in Riki’s pheromones.
“Yeah,” Riki confirms, still red like a tomato. “I mated with her last night.”
“Wow,” Jay breathes out in amazement, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “About time, man! You’re finally mated!”
Jay’s exclamation attracts attention and soon, the whole group is congratulating Riki on the milestone. The said alpha is red down to his neck now, clearly not expecting the sudden shift of focus on him but still relishing in the pride of having his mating mark, if the musky lilt to his pheromones is anything to go by.
Heeseung remains a quiet observer, watching as Riki pulls down the collar of his shirt to proudly show the mark. Two other alphas join him as they speak fondly of their omegas, relishing in their identical mating mark on their napes. Beside him, Jay listens with an adoring smile. There’s a certain longing in his gaze when he stares at the mated alphas that doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung.
Heeseung averts his eyes away, trying to forget that familiar look on Jay’s face. He almost scoffs at the image.
He knows that look like the back of his hand.
Jay, too, yearns for a mate. Like Riki. Unlike Heeseung.
Mate. It’s the word that is so common in omegaverse but so foreign in Heeseung’s little world.
If Jay is a walking green flag that effortlessly attracts omegas with his gentleman charms, Heeseung is a running red flag that chases after willing omegas. If Jay stays away from wild sex life, Heeseung lives by it. If Jay dates to marry, Heeseung fucks to breathe. He’s everything Jay’s not that Riki was so bewildered when the two first met him.
Don’t get him wrong—he’s not the creepy kind of chaser. Rather, he likes to call himself the sexy one. It’s not hard for him to pull; just a few flirty comments here and a couple of filthy whispers there and the next hour he’ll have an omega to bring home and under him.
He doesn’t know if he’s the only one wired this way, but where territorial instincts stream in his alpha blood, his sexual desires run even harder and faster. It’s like an itch that just won’t get away if he doesn’t scratch at it. He’s an attractive alpha with a high sex drive, he admits it, but is he really wrong to accept any omegas with his long, eager arms?
He thinks not.
Plus, they’re omegas. Heeseung tries not to objectify them, but gosh, the scent wafting from them is always so sweet and inviting. They’re curved softly, meant to hold and love the right, physical way that he’s known how to. He’s a weak man, and an even weaker alpha; Heeseung can’t resist a good fuck between two consenting adults and he always, always consents to being sucked off dry and scratched to bleed.
Fuck, just thinking about it is already making him excited.
Heeseung’s eyes wander, tuning out the conversation about mate as he scans for any attractive omega. It’s starting to bore him—the talk about mate and having a mate and being mated—so he’s entertaining himself with the exposed skin and swaying hips of dancing omegas on the dance floor.
For someone like him that gets off on having sex with omegas and being drunk on their sweet pheromones, mating culture is a big no for him. The idea of being tied to only one omega makes him laugh; it sounds ridiculous to him. He’s an alpha capable of giving and his knot is not limited to only one hole, so why should he settle?
Only hopeless-romantic alphas believe in the belief of fated mates. And unfortunately, two of his friends do. Heeseung mentally rolls his eyes.
He decides that he’s had enough when the mated alphas start talking about having pups; another commitment that makes goosebumps rise in his skin. Wordlessly, he places his shot glass on the table, having sipped only half of it throughout the night.
“Leaving already?” Jay asks, craning his neck when Heeseung stands. The latter only cocks his head to the dance floor with a knowing look. The corner of his mouth curves into a playful smirk when Jay makes a face.
“The usual.”
Jay shakes his head. “Whatever. Just don’t do it raw.”
“I’m always clean and safe, Jongseong.” Heeseung retorts, already taking his leave. “Call me when you’re leaving.”
Whatever Jay replies is muffled by the loud bass and Heeseung couldn’t care less to know what the alpha has said. Probably throwing him insults for using him as his personal chauffeur again. Heeseung only shrugs. Jay’s not his concern tonight. He has a bigger fish, or rather, a pretty wolf, to catch.
His eyes sweep across the space. From where he’s standing, his nose can pick up different scents of alphas and omegas. Even the faint scent of betas are visible, usually amplified by alcohol and adrenaline. He’s still deciding between two male omegas throwing asses back on the dance floor and a group of female omegas giggling at a table not far from him when a spiked scent stabs at his senses.
His nose instantly scrunches, frowning as he tries to detect that smell. An omega in distress. It’s faint, coming from the direction of the exit door, but he can’t see anyone crying or visibly uncomfortable in his line of sight.
Heeseung looks around, momentarily distracted from his initial mission. Nobody seems to notice the scent, however, and Heeseung blames his dominant traits for this. He sometimes forgets that he’s a dominant alpha. Unlike Jay and Riki, his senses are more sensitive and developed, which is a blessing when he’s looking for a hookup and a curse when he’s inside the locker room after a game when the air is drenched in his teammates’ pheromones. Heeseung shudders at the memories. He’s always the first to shower and leave the room because only Riki smells good when sweating.
His thoughts are brought back when the scent intensifies. Heeseung keeps sniffing and blindly follows the trail of wilting daisies and burnt honey, his shoulders braced and jaw tense. He doesn’t know why, but the scent has awakened his senses to a new degree. His alpha is on full alert now.
He passes by dancing bodies and tables to get to the exit door but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. Heeseung looks down.
A soft, seductive voice reaches his ears. “Heeseung-ssi?”
Heeseung blinks at the smiling omega. After a second of stunned silence, he finally recognises the logo on her varsity jacket and the makeup on her face. Realisation dawns upon him.
She’s part of his college’s cheerleader squad.
The omega is running a hand up and down his arm now, arching her back to flaunt the soft swell of her chest. Behind her, her fellow cheerleaders watch closely, hiding eager smiles behind their palms. Heeseung looks down at her hand, gulping despite himself.
“Spare me a few minutes, will you, my precious, capable alpha?”
Her voice is so enticing, dripping with the kind of allure Heeseung’s so much familiar with. There is a strong wave of her sweet scent—bubblegum and cotton candy, Heeseung notes—coming from her in full force. She’s fluttering her lashes now, hoping he’ll get the message.
Heeseung does; oh does he get the message so well. He knows what she’s hinting on and on any other nights he’ll succumb to the temptation without putting any efforts to think, melting into a puddle of juices at the slightest touch of seductive omegas. It’s a no-brainer decision for him, usually, because he’s always ready to fuck and he always brings a pack of condom with him for this sole reason.
But tonight his wolf is restless. And the reason is none other than the bitter scent still clinging to his nose.
Heeseung gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and removes her hand from his arm. The omega frowns, brows almost uniting at the center when the alpha takes a step back.
“Next time, yeah?”
Without waiting for her reply, Heeseung slips away from the crowd, ignoring the sour turn of her pheromones. He can feel their eyes boring into his back, but that’s not his concern now. Following the haunting scent and the sudden flaring instincts to get closer to the owner of it, Heeseung lets his legs bring him closer to the exit door.
Heeseung hates to admit it, but right now, his wolf is thrashing at the bitter scent and his chest feels like caving in. He can feel the itch in his nails; his claws are threatening to sharpen. He frowns.
He’s never reacted this way to any omegas in distress. So why now? Why this particular scent?
When he reaches the door, Heeseung doesn’t waste a second to push it open and steps outside. As he does so, a weight suddenly crashes into his chest, pushing him slightly backwards from the force.
“Oof—”
Heeseung reaches up to steady the figure by the arms. At this sudden proximity, the scent is thicker, the wilting daisies are more prominent it's making his heart constrict. Heeseung lets out a deep exhale and looks down to the person practically in his arms.
A female omega. Clearly in distress, judging by the unshed tears and the tremble in her lips. A familiar varsity jacket drapes across her frame and Heeseung feels his breath stop when he recognises that face.
It’s you. One of the cheerleaders. Heeseung knows many cheerleaders, having been in bed with most of them; but even the most forgetful alpha will remember an omega like you.
A sweet face with a sweeter scent to match, but you are always detached from alphas and their advances. You’re the shy cheerleader his teammates always talk about. The untouchable one. The politely-smile-and-then-reject omega. Heeseung remembers you too well, being one of those rejected alphas himself.
He still remembers how disappointed his wolf was, whining and pouting when a pretty omega he had his eyes on rejected him. But Heeseung is a respectful alpha. He’ll take a no as a no. And you were also so kind when doing so that he moved on from it pretty fast and well.
That was one year ago.
Now you’re crying in his arms, for whatever reasons he doesn’t know and is determined to find out. He can feel your hold on his arms tighten, the spike in your scent when you recognise him, and the hitch in your breath that follows. The bitter scent is definitely coming from you.
“H-Heeseung?” Your voice is so small, like you’re not sure if you can call his name. It’s shaky and breathless. “Please help me.”
Behind you, Heeseung can see three shadows entering the alleyway. Even from the distance, his nose immediately picks up the pheromones of aroused alphas; thick and unpleasant. Your scent lingers amidst the stench, wavering in fear, so heavy he can practically taste it on his tongue. Heeseung instinctively pulls you closer.
“Are they bothering you?”
You nod frantically, the tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. When you speak, your voice is wet from tears and fear.
Nothing can ever prepare Heeseung for the words that are about to leave your mouth.
“P-Please…Please scent me.” You sob, clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt tighter. Heeseung’s breath stutters. “Please, Heeseung.”
Scent-mark. A low rumble sounds from his chest.
You’re asking him to mark you. To…claim you. It’s basically you asking him to bond with you, to shower you with his pheromones and make you smell like him. Smell like you’re his.
This is not what Heeseung’s looking forward to tonight. The fantasy of saving an omega in distress and scent-marking belongs to Jay, an alpha that was even willing to help an omega in heat out of the goodness of his heart. But not Heeseung. That’s never Heeseung. Heeseung doesn’t play the hero; he’s the one stealing the female lead from them.
Scent-marking is way…too intimate to share between two complete strangers with no interaction—that is, if you consider being rejected to having sex together as zero interaction.
Heeseung looks between you and the shadows closing in, then licks his lips. “I can’t,” he tries, and the broken look on your face damn near makes his heart take the same fate. Heeseung schools his expression, forcing himself to push you slightly away from him.
“I—This is not right. You don’t want this.”
He can’t take advantage of you. This is just your scared omega speaking. Outside of this situation, he’s damn sure you’d refuse any kind of bonds with him. Heeseung might be a sex addict, but he’s not an asshole.
But you pull him with you, shaking your head as you keep taking a glance at the approaching alphas. “I do! Please,” you choke, failing to keep your voice steady as you plead at the alpha in front of you. Heeseung forces restraint to his instincts. “Please just scent-mark me, Heeseung. I-I can’t—They will—” You heave a deep breath, your scent taking a sourer lilt at his refusal.
“They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.”
Something sharp stabs at his chest, rendering him speechless and frozen for a moment. Heeseung stares at your trembling figure, at your shrinking body as if to make yourself disappear, and it suddenly hits him how disgusting the whole situation is.
They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.
Alphas only take a no when it comes from another alpha.
Heeseung feels nauseous. His throat closes in and there’s a quiet ringing in his ears. In that heavy, stilled silence, everything is muffled to his senses. Only the echoes of your words ripple in his mind.
Unless it’s another alpha.
It’s a hard pill to swallow; one that Heeseung finds it bitter to believe—because it’s so, so easy to walk away from omegas than force yourself on them. It’s so, so easy to shoot your pride down than dwell on it and go feral over a rejection. It’s so, so easy to respect an omega, even for a fuckboy like him, so why is it hard for other alphas to do so?
And the result of this harsh world, of this fucked up power imbalance is sobbing in his arms, shaking and forcing herself to be okay with an unwanted bond just to save herself. Heeseung’s heart breaks for you, for the fate that follows a beautiful being like you just because of secondary genders and because the world says so.
“Please, I-I don’t—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Heeseung whispers, rubbing a soothing circle on your arms. Your crying subsides a fraction. “I’ll scent you if that makes you feel better. Is that…okay?”
You blink at him tearily, streaks of salty tears tainting your unblemished cheeks. Even with a swollen face, you still look as pretty as he remembers.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nods, taking a hold of your wrist when he senses those alphas getting near. “Or we can just get inside and call the cops on them if you change your mind. You can find—”
“No,” you grip him tighter, your previously-calmed scent spiking again. “Cops are useless. T-They won’t—please, Heeseung. You know how they are.”
You know how unfair the system is.
Heeseung swallows hard before he nods, the burnt honey in your pheromones starting to get really thick and sticky. He rubs the inside of your wrists, slow and deliberate, before bringing the scent gland to his nose. It’s the most appropriate point to scent, less intimate than scenting at your neck, which he guesses the last thing you want from him right now.
The tip of his nose caresses the delicate skin tentatively, testing and tasting before he takes a deep inhale. Immediately, the scent of daisies and honey fill up his senses and Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling. There is a rush of energy bursting through his veins, his senses tingling and his wolf purring at the sweet combination of your pheromones. Heeseung feels his wolf hum, almost singing and sighing, like his muscles are unknotting in a hot spring.
It’s strange. It’s new. But Heeseung pushes the thoughts aside.
He runs his nose over your wrist over and over again, blanketing you in his pheromones and starting to feel you relax in his arms.
The tension in your shoulders visibly disappears as you let yourself melt into Heeseung. You sigh. Heeseung’s pheromones are just like him; warm spice of cinnamon carried by cool air of sea breeze. It symbolises his fierce persona on the court and his calm demeanour when he’s out of his jersey perfectly. You lean into him further, your squirming wolf unknowingly calms down when being washed by his pheromones.
If Heeseung notices the change in your demeanour, he doesn’t say anything about it, shoving the thought to the back of his mind. His singular focus is entirely on your pulse, nosing at your wrist and pumping out his calming pheromones. When he opens his eyes, they mirror the look in yours: dazed and slightly glassy. The air is now loaded with daisies and cinnamon, intertwining with each other in a perfect, balanced mix of scent.
Heeseung tries to ignore the loud pounding of his heart, but it’s all he can hear. He tries to ignore the stars in your eyes, but it’s all he can see. He tries to ignore how perfectly balanced the mix of your scent is with his. His grip on your wrist tightens, breath caught in his throat. His wolf refuses to let you go, wanting to keep you here, tucked safely in his embrace for as long as he can.
And that thought is so foreign and scary. He really hopes that’s just his wolf and not him.
“Hey, little bunny.” A sick, twisted voice interrupts.
Oh, right.
Those fucking, disgusting alphas.
Heeseung is always slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually is. But in that moment, he’s standing so tall, dominating the space around him like the air is making room for him itself.
He instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from the hungry eyes of the approaching alphas. His shoulders are braced like they’re ready for an impact and Heeseung has to force a snarl down his throat when his eyes land on the wolves.
When the shadows step under the light, it takes less than a second for Heeseung to see the jerseys clinging to their bodies before he realises who he’s looking at.
They’re the players from the opposing team that his team just beat tonight.
K, EJ, and Nicholas.
Heeseung grinds his jaw so hard he might pop a vessel.
“If it’s not the mighty Lee Heeseung,” K taunts, wearing a smug smirk like a badge at the sight in front of him. He cocks his head, trying to see you over Heeseung’s shoulders. You cower. “Mind sharing your pretty little cheerleader? She’s exactly my type, shy but slutty.”
Shame spreads across your skin and you screw your eyes shut. Shy and slutty, you bite your lips. You’re nothing but a kinky fantasy for alphas like them.
As if sensing your turmoil, Heeseung stands taller, his eyes narrowing thin.
“Get lost.” Heeseung tries to hold back, but the rage he feels seeps through anyway. “And cover your gland, for fuck’s sake. You stink.”
K’s eyebrows shoot up, his grin turning cheshire. “Come on, man. Are you gatekeeping your cheerleaders?” K tries to take a peek at you, but Heeseung moves and covers you with his whole body. His frown deepens. “You had fucked her already. Don’t be greedy, captain.”
His alpha minions laugh, and Heeseung is now seeing red. Something hot spreads in his chest, burning in his vein like wildfire at the insult. Was it a hit to his ego and his shameless sexual routine? Definitely, but Heeseung never takes it to heart. Rather, it’s the way you gasp and sob into his back, shaken by the disgusting assumption of your dignity and your virginity. The storm of the ocean spikes in the air, taking his pheromones to a dangerous peak, gathering a tide to a new height.
Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever released pheromones this bad. But something about seeing the same pattern of omegas falling victim to empty-headed alphas makes his blood boil.
Behind him, you whimper, your omega reacting to the agitated alpha in front of you. But Heeseung is now relentless. He holds out an arm around your waist, protecting you from their sight in a tight, almost-possessive grip.
“Watch your fucking mouth. Don’t you get it?” Heeseung seethes, pupils thinning as the laughter dies down. “She doesn’t want you. In what fucking language must she say no for your stupid brain to understand? She’s—”
Mine. She’s mine, his wolf howls. My omega.
Heeseung grits his teeth.
No, she’s not. Get a fucking grip, Lee Heeseung. You don’t have a mate.
“...not a toy.”
The sea-salt bite of his pheromones thickens in the alley. K scoffs, stepping forward in offense but is stopped by Nicholas. The latter has his arm shot out against K’s chest, preventing him from approaching the couple.
“No, K,” Nicholas murmurs, nose sniffing at the heavy pheromones in the air. Underneath the eye-watering spice of cinnamon and the raging storm of Heeseung’ sea breeze scent, there is a tangled sweetness of daisies and honey clinging to it. He visibly gulps. “They’re together. And Heeseung…”
Nicholas throws him a side eye, giving him a once-over briefly. He takes in the sharp glare directed his way, the downturned curl of his mouth, the tense shoulders ready to pounce. Nicholas shudders imperceptibly and shakes his head.
“…He’s a dominant alpha.”
His statement, though meant to deescalate the situation, only rages Heeseung on further. The alpha takes a menacing step forward, eyes narrowing thin at the trio. They falter back.
“Get this in your empty brains you freaks,” Heeseung grits, fuming beyond reason. Nicholas swears he sees something red flickering in his irises.
“When someone says no, you back the fuck off. Dominant alpha or not. Omega or not.” He spits out the word, the venom in his voice nearly poisons the air. “Do you fucking get it?”
His raging pheromones are turning physical, pressing on each pair of lungs like lead on a mattress. Nicholas fights the urge to cover his nose and pulls his two friends backwards with him.
“We get it. Sorry, captain.”
“Not me,” Heeseung hisses. A low growl rumbles in warning. “Her.”
Nicholas licks his lips and nods. He bows down quickly, forcing the other alphas to bend despite it hurting his pride. K reluctantly follows, though his eyes return the glare Heeseung gives him in a similar intensity.
“We’re sorry, omega. Shit, I don’t know your name, but—we’re sorry.”
In the next moment, the three alphas are already retreating. Nicholas aggressively whispers something among them while K visibly restrains himself from running back to Heeseung. He clearly doesn’t mind taking up a challenge with the dominant alpha and Heeseung finds himself not minding to dirty his hands too.
A beat of heavy silence falls upon you. You stay rooted in place, pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung is still facing away from you, ragged breathing slowing down. The air of dense pheromones is thinning out, leaving behind trails of spicy cinnamon and soft daisies.
You let out a breath and your knees buckle.
Heeseung is by your side in a flash, the same, now-familiar arms caging you against his tall frame. You put your hands on his chest, trying to steady the wobble in your legs.
“Hey, hey. You’re okay now. They’re gone.”
They really are. You cry. They’re actually gone.
An ugly sob racks through your chest and soon, the wilting daisies are back, staining the air with crumpled petals and sad flowers. Heeseung tightens his hold. He doesn’t like seeing people cry, but his alpha apparently despises it the most when he sees you in this state.
His calming pheromones pour out in waves, hands carding through your hair gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
You’re safe with me.
Your crying slows down. For a few seconds, you let yourself savour the warmth of Heeseung’s embrace. Closer, his pheromones, layered with a faint trail of his body wash, are stronger, filling up the almost-nonexistent space between the two of you. Strangely, the spice and the salt work wonders on calming you down.
Your wolf—previously anxious and distressed—is now quiet.
Heeseung adjusts his hold on you, and in that moment do you only realise in horror how long you’ve been shamelessly hugging him. Like a reflex, you pull away from his embrace, cheeks now flaming red when his shirt is now stained with two big spots of your tears.
“I’m sorry!” Your palms instinctively rub at the stains, as if they can dry out the tears out of the fabric. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
Heeseung looks down, silently watching the small of your palms against his broad chest. There’s a strange flutter that follows, quiet and unfamiliar. He hopes that you can’t feel it through the fabric.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Heeseung murmurs, eyes finding their ways back to your face. Red nose, swollen eyes, blotched cheeks. You really went through it, still sniffling as you still try to fix the stains on his shirt. A small part of him twists uncomfortably.
Heeseung catches your wrists, his thumbs moving almost instinctively against the soft skin.Your breath catches as you lift your gaze to look at him.
“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks, voice soft and gentle. You immediately nod, admittedly feeling better after being bathed in his calming pheromones.
“I’m okay. Just a bit thirsty.”
He searches your face, as if trying to detect any kind of discomfort or distress. But in the end, he ends up staring into your eyes, counting the lashes that guard your beautiful eyes.
It should end there. He really should just escort you back into the safety of your friend group and leave you be. Perhaps, he can go find the previous omega, seduce his way back and bring her home. The normal. The usual.
But something inside stirs in protest to that idea, and so instead he finds himself saying: “Let’s get you something to drink.”
The convenience store is bright under the dark sky, located just two blocks away from the nightclub. It’s already past one in the morning, but to the people of the night, it’s only the beginning of fun. From a distance, the queue line is only getting longer.
Beside you, Heeseung is walking on the edge of the pavement, looking out for cars despite the slow traffic. He’s been quiet since the alleyway, seemingly lost in thought. Occasionally, his hand will brush yours, a quiet graze that sends electricity in your system. You try not to react.
The convenience store is empty, save for a group of partygoers sobering up around the round table outside, leaving only a long bench beside the door empty. You stop when Heeseung does, his hand already tapping on the sensory handle.
“Wait here. I’ll buy you something to drink.”
You nod, obediently sitting down. Heeseung takes one last look at you before he enters the store, the harsh lights greeting his tired eyes. He grabs the coldest mineral water and stops in front of the necessities shelves.
Without thinking, his hand moves like it has a mind of its own, grabbing whatever his eyes land on—a heat pack, chocolate, a pack of wet tissues. It’s only when the cashier scans the items that he pauses, staring at the items with wide eyes.
Since when does he…do this?
“Anything to add, sir?”
Heeseung gulps, looks past the cashier’s head, and lands on the rows of pills behind him.
She cried too much, she might have a headache.
And so, as if on instinct, Heeseung adds paracetamol to his receipt.
Outside, the air is cooler, biting at exposed skin like a bug. Heeseung wordlessly sits beside you, placing the plastic bag on his lap. You curiously peek into the bag.
“That’s a lot. Are you hungry?”
Heeseung pauses, realisation dawns upon him. His instincts flare again. “No. Are you? Do you want ramyeon? Or packed rice? I can—”
“No! It’s fine, Heeseung,” you laugh softly, the sound like a melodious chime of a bell to his ears. “I had dinner.”
Heeseung visibly relaxes and nods. He hands you the bottle first, twisting the cap open before passing it over without a word. He watches you drink, takes the bottle from you, and gives you the heat pack next.
You blink at him. “It’s cold,” Heeseung shrugs, pulling your hand towards him and placing the heat pack on your palm. He closes your fingers over it. “This will warm you up a bit.”
For a second, you just stare at him. The warmth in your hand spreads from your fingers up to your chest, where your heart is thumping wildly at his gentle act.
You bring the heat pack to your neck, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare at him, cheeks blooming red. They put him in a trance, your eyes, as Heeseung finds himself unable to look away. His gaze then drops to your lips when they move, already clinging to every syllable without even knowing it.
“Thank you, Heeseung.”
The flutter comes back, now more frantic and aggressive than before, like a caged bird trying to escape. This time, Heeseung forces himself to look away, the plastic bag wrinkles under his tightening grip.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I mean it, though.” You counter back, gazing at the passing cars as you feel a gust of chilling wind breezing through. You scoot closer to the heat beside you. “It was really scary. Thank you for helping me out.”
There’s a bitter tone, faint and subtle, to your scent, as if you’re recalling the ugly incident that just happened almost half an hour ago. Heeseung clenches his jaw.
Before he can stop it, his pheromones spill out like soft waves, calming and comforting, cocooning you again like a safety blanket. His wolf hums in quiet satisfaction, watching the way your shoulders loosen, the tension melting off you bit by bit.
Heeseung doesn’t know when or how it happened, but there’s no gap between you now. But he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would. Here, you’re so close to him, your shoulder practically glued to his, seeking warmth from his body heat.
It’s a foreign feeling. A comfortable, foreign feeling.
You stay in that position, slowly getting drunk on his pheromones. Your eyes droop, fighting sleep, but the exhaustion from running away from scary alphas has finally caught up to you. Before you know it, your head dips against his shoulder, breath evening out as your fingers lose their grip on the heat pack.
Heeseung swallows. He doesn’t dare move. From the proximity, he can smell your fruity hair wash, blending smoothly with your scent.
It’s so unfair. Every inch of you smells really good, whether it’s your natural scent or the products that you use. It’s like every inch of your skin decides that you only deserve to smell the best, and Heeseung himself can’t help but agree too. It’s so unfair.
Heeseung finds his hands hover awkwardly in the air, hesitating for a second before settling carefully on your head. His fingers thread through your hair, slower this time.
“Don’t feel scared anymore,” he mumbles, gently caressing the dark strands of your hair.
It’s me who should feel scared.
His fingers freeze in your hair.
Scared. He is scared.
This is not him. If Riki or Jay were to walk in to see him in this state, they’d drag him to the nearest police station and demand they find the real Heeseung. The normal Heeseung. The usual Heeseung.
The Heeseung that doesn’t stay, or spend his time watching people breathe in their sleep. The Heeseung who’s out the door before the sheets even cool down. The Heeseung that dislikes small touches like these; like caressing the hair of the girl he just saved, because the only physical touch he brands himself with is sex.
Not this. Not whatever this is.
He wants to move, but his body doesn’t listen—he stays despite himself. His wolf, like it’s found something it’s been looking for all along, settles deeper instead, quiet and satisfied. You nuzzle closer into his body and Heeseung feels his chest tighten.
Something uneasy creeps up his spine.
This should feel suffocating. It should itch under his skin, make him want to pull away, shake you off, leave.
But it doesn’t. It feels easy. Too easy, in fact.
And it scares the shit out of him.
When your senses return to you, the first thing that greets you is someone’s scent.
Warm, spicy cinnamon and calm, salty sea air.
The memory follows not long after; of angry frowns and disgusting smirks that make your skin crawl. Amidst it all, a familiar face flashes in your mind and you feel your heart stutter.
Heeseung.
The pulse in your wrist thuds violently, as if not letting you forget the owner of the pheromones now wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You faintly remember, in your subconscious, being carried to a car and your roommate, Yujin, hugging you in panic. Unconsciously, you pull your blanket closer to your chest.
Did Heeseung send you home? Did he really…scent-mark you to help you?
You bite your lips between your teeth. The clarity is palpable now that the haziness of pheromones and distress are no longer around. There’s no way an alpha—a dominant one, at that—is willing to scent-mark an omega he has no connections to. The implications are more than the action itself. Heeseung surely knows about that, right?
It feels like a dream. It has to be a dream.
What a capable alpha, your wolf preens. Shut up, you hiss.
Then, as if the universe was insistent to prove you wrong, your eyes land on a plastic bag placed neatly on top of your vanity, a damning evidence of last night’s incident.
No way.
Your brain swirls with possibilities and your own made-up theories that it has started to throb faintly. Before you could lose your sanity, thread by unraveling thread, you rush to the bathroom to, hopefully, get rid of his scent, even when your omega begs you not to.
Unfortunately for the human-you, the cinnamon trails after you even post-showers. It clings to your clothes when you change and it doesn’t let you go even as you sit for breakfast prepared by your doting roommate. It’s strange, really. No one’s scent ever clung to you so stubbornly like this, like a chewing gum latching on shoe soles. You always cuddle with Yujin and even her green tea pheromones never stay with you after washing up.
“It’s a bit odd, yes,” Yujin munches through a mouthful of her own signature pancake. “But it’s not totally out-of-this-world. His scent will fade by this evening, I promise.”
You chew painfully slowly, eyes going wide at another possibility. “You don’t think that I conjured some kind of bond with him, right?”
It’s common knowledge that a thin, fragile bond can be easily formed when an alpha and an omega scent each other, mated or not. After all, context and intention are greatly considered, whether it’s meant for familiarity, protection, or possessiveness—each one will determine how long it’ll last.
You pull at the sleeves of your cardigan, a telltale sign of your anxiousness. The same wilting daisies accent of your scent from the night before comes back, signalling your impending distress. Yujin drops her fork and reaches a hand to yours.
“Hey, hey. Calm down for a sec, Y/N.”
“It’s just,” you swallow harshly, your traitorous mind replaying the scene from last night. Your heart thumps at the base of your throat. “I don’t know—fuck. I forced him to do this. And—and despite the circumstances, he still helped me and now…now I think…”
Your eyes turn glassy, reminded of the wolf residing deep inside you.
“I think my omega might like him.”
Yujin is silent for a moment, assessing the right words to say. It’s obvious to everyone on campus of the nature of Lee Heeseung. He’s not exactly the alpha you’d seek for companionship or commitment; he seems to be allergic to those things.
And to get your wolf to like him…well, let’s say that you’re already set for thousand-words of angst and a life of yearning. Yujin isn’t exactly fond of the idea of dishing out what you already knew. You already seem restless enough with your own thoughts.
“Okay. That’s valid.” Yujin starts slowly, treading through every syllable like a mother to her kindergartener son. “He’s super attractive. It’s understandable. But you can, you know—unlike him.”
You perk up at that, though the doubt clouding your face is more prominent now. “How?”
“Find a better alpha,” Yujin shrugs, as if explaining the world’s simplest equation. “For the record, I do think Heeseung’s a good guy, just not in the romantic department. I don’t know why your wolf is picking a fuckboy out of all alphas, but taste is subjective.”
“It’s because he stepped up and protected me!” You deflect and pause, realising how defensive of him you have become. Yujin raises a brow and you sigh, defeated, slumping in your seat.
“Fuck. Now my omega hates you for badmouthing him.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Just kill me.”
Yujin shoots you a small smile, pushing your now-cold plate closer to you. You reluctantly take a bite. “Why not someone else, though? You could ask literally any other alpha, like—” Yujin pauses and it takes her less than a second to pick a name. “Jay. Like Jay. He’s like, the safest option, the greenest flag. But why Heeseung? And don’t tell me it’s because he was the only one there—you could’ve just barged in and found someone else. It’s a freaking nightclub.”
You freeze, unmoving for a slow second. There is, of course, an answer to that. One that you admittedly avoid to admit, because admitting it will admit that there is something underneath that only you know, and you admit that it’s scary to admit that. Fuck this admission! Yujin wouldn’t make fun of you, right?
“I…” You trail off, second-guessing your decision. Should you really tell your roommate? Seeing the eager look on her face, with her sweet, cute dimples showing up, you decide that people with dimples should be banned from this world. Promptly, you’re reminded of your junior—an alpha with Jungwon or something as his name. The both of them possessed dimples that could make any alpha (or omega) drop down to their knees.
Alas, you force yourself to tell the truth.
“I smelled him for afar.” You watch carefully for Yujin’s reaction. “Like, from outside. While I was running from those scary alphas.”
Yujin contemplates. “Did you feel some kind of a pull towards him?”
You don’t even contemplate. “Yes.”
“Holy shit,” Yujin laughs, her grin turning giddy. “This shit is actually real?!”
“What is?!” You frown, not liking being kept in the dark. A playful punch lands on Yujin’s shoulder, who’s now throwing her head back in laughter. Unconsciously, a pout is formed on your lips.
“What is it? Tell me!”
“It’s just, there’s this joke going around,” Yujin hiccups between every inhale, “that an omega will eventually crave for his knot. I can’t believe it’s happening to you!”
The lines in your forehead deepen. You regard your roommate with a look of contempt, thinking of the best spot to hide a body.
“That’s not true. I don’t crave his knot, or whatever it is.” You sigh, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know what? I’m just gonna pretend last night didn’t happen.”
Resigned and defeated, you rise and bring your plate to the sink. Your class doesn’t start until the next three hours, and then the evening is reserved for your new routine practice for the upcoming tournament. The ninety-two unread messages from the group chat are still left unopened; you haven’t had time to review the routine video yet.
You put on your apron and reach for the cabinet. When in distress or deep thoughts, other than nesting in your bedroom, you often opt to stress-bake instead. The scent of baked goods always puts you at ease, and it blends sweetly with your daisies and honey pheromones. Everyone who knows you knows to empty their stomach and be ready for a mass sweet-feeding whenever you’re in your stressed baker mode.
Behind you, Yujin’s laughter dies in her throat. Then, a question that stops you in your tracks comes.
“Hey, you don’t think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates, right?”
Fated mates. The words settle like a heavy blanket, pressing you down with its weight and keeping you warm altogether.
It’s sacred. It’s ancient. It’s something that you never speak of lightly, afraid that a slip of a tongue would taint the purity of such a bond. Against all odds and critiques on the concept of fated mates, you’re part of the minority who believed in it, no matter how foolish or ridiculous it may sound.
You believe in fated mates. You believe in the name written in the stars, in the love that has been shaped and created just to cherish you. You believe in spending the rest of your life looking for a face that your heart would recognise in a heartbeat, feeling that inevitable pull like you’re each other’s missing half.
But after last night, do you think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates?
Heeseung, who’s always made it clear to everyone about his relationship with commitments?
Heeseung, who never shies away when the boys tease him about the girls he sleeps with?
You’re never one to judge someone’s sex life, but you might be a little too concerned about how they view a long-term, committed relationship. Because that’s what you’ve been looking for.
An alpha who’s not afraid to love you loudly. An alpha whose instincts are to love and protect you.
Sometimes, you really envy mated couples. You envy how loyal Riki is of his girlfriend, craving the same kind of devotion to be directed to you. You envy how proud Taesan is to show off his mating mark, like it’s a badge of honour and love that promises forever.
Eventually, your mind drifts to Heeseung. The captain of the basketball team. Someone who deceives people with how approachable he seems, but is actually the most detached.
Heeseung is a perfect and capable alpha. You’ve seen it.
He leads his team with the kind of leadership that becomes a glue, keeping the team together no matter what challenges they’re going through. You know that he’s from the music department, and there are a few songs with his name being credited as the producer, composer, lyricist—you name it. Heeseung is a dominant alpha and uses his authority well, and he knows how to fend for himself.
You admire him, you really do.
But will he devote himself to you? Will he look only for you in a crowd of beautiful omegas, and beautiful omegas who have spent the night with him? Does he share the same sentiment as you when it comes to fated mates?
The churn in your stomach provides an answer clearer than any of your exams had ever done.
You let Yujin’s question fade in the background, letting yourself lose in your element—baking and baking and baking until it feels like you could feed a whole team of athletes. Which is what Yujin has suggested before she leaves for her lab session, after saving a big jar of cookies for herself.
Fated mates.
What a scary thought.
For the first time in his life, Heeseung is actively avoiding omegas.
It’s not any omegas, though. It’s only you. But since it’s you, it’s actually a pretty big deal to him.
Heeseung doesn’t play favourites. He doesn’t believe in fated mates, remember? But last night left a lasting impact in the form of your scent still clinging to him this morning, even after showering. Not to mention how excited his wolf has been when realising that it’s you.
It’s you, for fuck’s sake! The one who rejected him one year ago, and, admittedly, one of the prettiest omegas on campus. You might as well be every alpha’s ideal type. Well, maybe not Riki, that man is proudly claimed and fiercely loyal to his mate. But it’s definitely the case for him and Jay.
Knowing his best friend, Heeseung’s sure you’re just Jay’s type. And his. No. He didn’t say that. He doesn’t have a type, remember?
As if to make it worse, you also have a scent that might just be his favourite one yet. The same scent that is currently invading his senses, dampening other pheromones in the court despite being on opposite ends from you. The same scent that his wolf decides to pick up and single out the moment he steps foot in the campus, recognising you before his eyes can even see you first. The same scent that still lingers in his lungs, mingling with his cinnamon and sea breeze notes like dancing partners.
Yeah, Heeseung is starting to think that he’s slowly going insane.
“Dude, stop staring. You’re scaring them.”
Heeseung blinks, Jay’s voice successfully snapping him out of whatever omega-spell that you have casted on him. Yeap, he nods. It’s definitely that. You’re actually a witch. There’s no other explanation to this other than that.
A blob of freshly-dyed blonde hair pops up beside Jay. “Hyung showed up smelling like daisies and honey and suddenly he’s staring at the cheerleaders like they owe him money.” Riki teases, then grins when he realises something. “Wait, that kinda rhymes—”
“I’m not staring!” Heeseung almost shouts, belatedly realising that he, indeed, has been staring at the group of cheerleaders stretching across the court. Or, to be more precise, he’s been staring at you. He glares at Riki.
“Okay. So why do you smell like one of them then? What’s her name again, Jay hyung?”
Heeseung grumbles. “It’s no one—”
“Y/N.”
“Yes, that one. The shy one.”
Heeseung groans. He kicks Riki’s shins and makes a show of turning his back facing the cheerleaders. But for some reasons he refuses to admit, as if he has eyes on the back of his head, he still can point where you’re standing just from his senses alone.
These stupid, useless alpha senses.
At least Jay takes pity on him. “Your Heeseung hyung saved her from perverts last night. He scented her to calm her down because she was reacting pretty badly.”
Heeseung mentally thanks Jay and continues warming up. He opts to just watch his teammates dribble and stretch just like him. The faint hum of scent neutraliser—a new, advanced one, thanks to that incident with Riki’s girlfriend—rumbles slowly. Somewhere behind him, he can hear you laugh and taste the sweet spike in your scent on his tongue. Heeseung grits his teeth.
What is wrong with his wolf? Please get your tail together.
Riki, on the other hand, is intrigued. “Really? Did it happen after I left? Who were those alphas?”
“Some idiots from that team we beat last night.”
Riki frowns, clearly displeased with the news he just heard. “Well, I’ll keep my eyes on them. How did Heeseung hyung find her?”
Jay shrugs and shoots him a look. Heeseung really hopes he can slap that annoying smirk off his face one day. “Dunno. Ask him. His alpha probably recognised her from miles away.”
Heeseung doesn’t like what that sentence implies. “Shut up. It’s just instinct. Normal alpha-omega reaction.”
“Keep lying to yourself. I can practically see your tail wagging when you smelled your pheromones on her just now.”
“I didn’t—” Heeseung closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down despite the sudden flare of defensiveness exploding in his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s so reactive and not in his usual calm composure, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with you. Jay and Riki snicker.
“The only people that believe in fated mates are you two idiots. Do you know that?”
“Yeah, I know,” Riki snorts and looks at him, amused. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have a fated mate. That shit is rare. It’s like finding my size in Calvin Klein.”
Jay frowns. “I don’t see the correlation.”
“There is. My dick is just too big, hyung. There’s no size for me—”
“I don’t need to know that!” Jay slaps at Riki’s shoulders while the younger alpha only lets out a full-body laugh. “Save that information for your girlfriend, Riki. I didn’t raise you like this.”
“She already knows that.”
“Nishimura Riki!”
Heeseung is back to zoning out, his energy is suddenly drained out of his soul. That’s usually the case when you have to deal with a Nishimura Riki and a Park Jongseong on a daily basis. His mind, choosing to move at the pace of a snail today, is replaying Riki’s words back like a broken loop.
The realisation hits him five seconds late. “Wait. Did you mean that you and your girlfriend are not…fated mates? I thought you were!”
Riki is trapping Jay in a headlock when he answers. “Nope. We only imprinted on each other from early on because we’re childhood friends.”
“So like…what’s the difference?” Heeseung pauses and hesitates for a moment. He glances at you and then thinks, fuck it. If curiosity didn’t kill the cat then it’ll definitely kill him. “Can you smell your girlfriend in a sea of people?”
Riki scrunches his nose, his hands busy play-fighting with Jay. Heeseung ignores them like it’s a daily occurrence to see them act this way. Which is probably not far from the truth. “Not really? If they’re too many people, like right now, with your stench and too many omega scents—it’s difficult to find her.” Jay tackles his side and Riki yelps. “B-But it’s getting better after the mating bite, though—Jay hyung! I just got my tattoo there!”
“So…you can’t like…” Heeseung licks his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He has a feeling that he’s not going to like the answer Riki’s going to give him once he finishes his sentence. Jay is now on the floor while Riki is pulling him by the legs and dragging him around like a used rug.
“You can’t single her out from her scent alone?”
There. He said it. His two idiotic friends will catch on it and grill him for the problem he partially caused. The other part is, no doubt, his wolf’s fault for deciding to like one single scent. You’re not at fault at all. Never. Wait, who said that?
Riki is breathless from the laughter and play-fight, but he still manages to listen and answer, thanks to his alpha senses. If he finds Heeseung’s questions strange, he only shares his suspicion through a knowing look with Jay.
“Sometimes. Like I said, it’s only when the crowd isn’t too big and when she’s in the same room as me.” Riki finally spares Heeseung a glance, tilting his head in a feigned curiosity. “Why are you asking, hyung? Did you smell Y/N from miles away or something?”
How the fuck did that idiot know?
Heeseung looks away from the teasing grin thrown his way. He really doesn’t like this. “No,” he grumbles. “I’m just afraid if I might be Jay’s fated mate because his pheromones are fucking everywhere.”
“Hey! What the fuck did I do to you?!”
Riki bursts out laughing and high-fives Heeseung with a cheeky smile. On the floor, Jay is already huffing and sulking, mumbling something about ‘always catching strays’ and ‘citrusy pheromones aren’t smelly’. Heeseung sighs quietly when the topic takes a turn into a debate about who has the best smelling pheromones, which is an easy win for Riki, if Heeseung’s going to be honest.
Don’t tell Jay though. Heeseung doesn’t want to lose his passenger princess privilege so soon.
Much to his relief, it’s already time for practice. Heeseung tries to ignore the prickle in his neck coming from your direction as you and your fellow cheerleaders leave the gym to go to your own practice room. He fights the urge to look back, to stride forward and ask you to stay—which is insane, by the way, what the fuck is wrong with him?
Before he slips into his captain mode, however, Jay approaches him with a more serious look on his face. “Calm your flat tits, Hee. It’s normal for her scent to linger; you kinda scented her aggressively to protect her last night.”
Heeseung weakly nods. Jay pats his shoulder. “A deep bond can’t be conjured just from scenting alone, unless you’re fated mates.”
This time, Heeseung doesn’t move, his tension visible in the rigid lines of his posture, the frantic movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“Yeah,” he croaks, his pulse louder than his own voice. “Hope not.”
Practice goes on for the next two hours. Heeseung eventually falls into routine, finding himself lost in adrenaline and competitiveness. The thoughts of you cease for a moment, replaced by his quick-thinking strategy and sharp reflexes. He keeps dribbling, scoring, and making passes, not even aware of the ticking clock or when the cheerleader squad comes back in to take a break.
The last whistle finally blows before the players dramatically fall in a heap of sweaty, breathless alphas. The practice was particularly grueling, which made his body ache and his shirt clung to his skin. The coach is on fire today, all because his wife has been giving him a silent treatment. Apparently, he forgot to buy diapers on his way home last night.
Source: Nishimura Nosy.
“I think I might die,” Jay huffs, claiming a bench all to himself. His chest rises and falls in a rapid motion. “But even as a ghost, I bet the coach would still unearth my grave to force me to practice.”
“I’ll be Ghost Number Two.” Heeseung deadpans, lying down on the bench next to Jay. The latter continues to talk about something else, which Heeseung would know and remember if he didn’t get distracted by daisies and honey.
Fuck. You’re in the court again.
The urge to corner you, to grab your wrist and ask if you were okay, crawls under his skin again—restless, unrelenting.
Heeseung isn’t stupid. He knows last night, ugly as it was, doesn’t just fade by morning. His alpha has been clawing at him since then, sharp and impatient, demanding he go to you.
But Heeseung doesn’t move.
For once, he’s a coward.
He shoves it down, buries it deep, treating his own wolf like a disease he refuses to catch.
Heeseung blinks at the ceiling in an active effort to not start looking for you and staring at you like a creep. This time, he wonders quietly why your scent smells stronger than before. Perhaps the adrenaline from your routine. But even so, you don’t only smell strong, but you also smell closer—
“Free cookies!”
Heeseung jolts in surprise and whips his head in the direction of that voice. Or, precisely, your voice. His heart, as if trying to shorten his life span, decides not to take a break from the session just now and continues beating even faster.
There, just a few paces away from him, is you, standing in the middle of the court with one of your cheerleader friends. In her hold, there’s a purple Tupperware, its lid nowhere to be found. You stand slightly behind your friend, shyly looking over her shoulders as she talks to his teammates.
“Oh my God, they brought us cookies?!” Jay is already standing up, stretching lazily like a cat. “C’mon, Hee. It’s free cookies.”
Heeseung’s quick to refuse, despite his wolf begging him to go. “Nah—”
But before he can spit out any excuses, Jay is already dragging him, his weeks spent in the gym working out with Riki are finally paying off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take your portion and give it to me.”
Heeseung groans. He really should start joining their workout session. He can’t be manhandled by his two best friends easily like this.
Distracted, Heeseung fails to register the decreasing distance between you and him. It’s only when your scent spikes sweetly, which hits him in the face like a fucking tidal wave, does he catch your eyes and realises that, fuckfuckfuck she’s here ohmyGod—
“Hi, Jay. Hi, Heeseung.”
Wait hold on, why does his name sound even more beautiful coming from your voice?
He stands like a flag pole beside Jay, actively avoiding your eyes while being fully aware of that pretty pair staring at his face. The floor suddenly looks very interesting, with skid marks from their shoes and some sweat trails. Okay. Ew. That’s gross.
“Hey, pretty ladies.” Jay greets, flashing his attractive smile as he gestures at the container. “Heard there’s free cookies for the taking? Mind if we have some?”
Smooth as ever, Jay doesn’t even realise how easily he has charmed your friend with his simple greeting. Poor omega is already blinking rapidly, almost bouncing on her toes as she practically shoves the Tupperware into Jay’s chest.
“Yes! Yes, of course you can, Jay. There’s only little left! Take them all!”
Your eyes, fixated on Heeseung since he arrived, tries to search his face as you shyly interrupt, whispering into your friend’s ear.
“Offer some to Heeseung too…”
Heeseung doesn’t know whether to curse or thank the Goddess for his advanced dominant-alpha senses, because overhearing those words…it makes his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.
But your friend doesn’t pay you any mind, urging Jay to take the Tupperware from her. Jay, ever the gentleman but still a little shameless shit when it comes to food, takes it from her eager hands. He takes one bite and immediately lights up.
“This is so good! I love that it’s not too sweet.”
Like a mirror reflecting light, you beam widely, returning Jay’s enthusiasm. Heeseung tries to ignore the ugly twist in his chest. “Really? That’s…good to hear.”
“She made these, by the way!” Your friend proudly announces, which makes red blooms across your cheeks, ducking your head down slightly. You’re so shy, so pretty, Heeseung can’t stop staring.
And so good at baking. Such a perfect omega, his wolf continues. Shut the fuck up, Heeseung hisses.
“You’re really good at this, Y/N,” Jay interrupts his internal war, his voice sounding wrong in his ears. “Care to share the recipe?”
Now, is Jay flirting with you? Since when does his voice sound like that?
Heeseung tries to inhale, attempting to calm his fucking irrational wolf down, but all he can smell is the sugary scent of yours, tangling delicately and blending seamlessly with his spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze. Somewhere in his chest, his heartstrings soften, drunk in the perfect mix of your pheromones, a ghost of a mark from last night.
Maybe that’s what possessed him to snatch the Tupperware from Jay.
Heeseung wastes no time and starts munching two cookies at once, ignoring the gasps from you and your friend and the bombastic side-eye from his fellow alpha friend. The flavour of buttery vanilla and sweet chocolate chips melt on his tongue and Heeseung almost purrs at the taste.
Outside, he makes an effort to look calm.
“These are good,” he comments coolly, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a compliment (he’s failing). This time, he dares himself to meet your eyes, and has to force down another purr when he sees the sparkles in your eyes. “Thank you, Y/N.”
There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest when the blush in your cheeks deepen. You quickly look down to the floor, mumbling softly that could’ve been missed had it not been for his senses.
What kind of pull is this? Why is every sense of his attuned to you? Heeseung swears he can smell the subtle spike of your scent, the sound of your heartbeat and your soft breathing. It’s like his whole body has decided that it wants to worship you.
And Heeseung doesn’t worship. Fuck. This is terrifying.
“Thank you, Heeseung…”
There. Your voice again. Heeseung swallows. His grip on the Tupperware tightens. Seeing you under this light, flushed and softly smiling to the ground while sneaking glances at him—it undoes him in ways he never dared imagine.
The question is already at the tip of his tongue without his realisation. ‘Are you okay? Does what happened last night still bother you?’ The urge to comfort and soothe, now growing like a rolling snowball, threatening to spill from his mouth.
And the scary part is: Heeseung isn’t sure if that desire comes from his wolf or himself.
However, he never gets the chance to, because Jay with his perfect, universe-timing is already pulling him backwards. “Thank you for the cookies! We’ll eat them well!”
Heeseung reluctantly nods, the grip he has on the Tupperware turning knuckle-white.
“What the fuck was that?” Jay whisper-yells when they’re out of earshot, walking back to their previous spot. “And those are not only for you. Give them back to me!”
Heeseung dodges his grabby hand. “Why the fuck are you eating more?” He asks, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice.
“Didn’t they give all ten of them to us?”
“You’ve had two.”
“And you’ve had five!”
“I don’t care. These are mine.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
That’s what it takes for Heeseung to freeze in his tracks. Seeing an opening, Jay quickly snatches the Tupperware from his grasp and runs back to his spot on the bench, not forgetting to flip off the burgundy-haired alpha as he does so.
Heeseung is losing his fucking mind.
Sighing, Heeseung closes his eyes, a faint trail of daisies and honey still clinging to his senses. Even across the room, among the murmur of the gossiping cheerleaders, it’s your voice, the only one clear and crisp to his ears.
I’m being ridiculous.
This isn’t me.
Slowly, his human side starts taking over, all flowery images of you vanish within seconds.
Fuck, he curses. He wishes this scent-marking will be gone by tomorrow morning.
Three mornings later, much to his dismay, your scent still clings to him. On the bright side, it has been notably fading, now only the remnants of daisies and honey underneath cinnamon and sea air; like crunched petals along the shoreline, waiting to be washed away.
Against his own judgment, however, his wolf is fucking devastated.
He’s been whining like a kicked puppy ever since he walked to practice this morning and couldn’t smell his scent on you instantly. He still can spot you from two buildings away, which is still strange, but the lack of spice and salt in your scent is what does it. Heeseung has to fight the urge to march towards you and start scenting you.
His wolf has been restless. And, inevitably, it puts Heeseung in a terrible mood, too. He never knew his wolf was that desperate.
Practice ends late that night. With the tournament just around the corner, everyone is being a little shit at managing their emotions and competitiveness on the court—the downside of having an all-alpha team that people rarely talk about.
Heeseung is not excluded from the equation, though. He almost threw the ball to Taesan’s knot and made his omega pups-less and pregnancy-free when he accidentally made a bad pass. The court had smelled like tension and a barely held-together brotherhood when he left before a cheerleader came up to him to flirt and he wasted no time to drag her to an empty classroom.
Now, Heeseung finds himself making out with that omega, tongue licking up into her mouth while she breathlessly moans into his. It’s been five days since his last fuck, and while he usually can go on without sex for weeks (one month was his best record), he’s been at his wit’s end today. Add the confusion and silent wars he’s been having about you into the mix, and Heeseung is nothing more than a stressed body waiting to be relieved.
Weirdly enough, the frustration he hopes to get rid of stays as frustration. The old sparks he usually feels when having this intimate moment with an omega seems to disappear tonight. In the back of his mind, like a looming cloud carrying a storm, is a hazy image of teary eyes and red, trembling lips.
Something stirs uneasily in his chest.
His huge, veiny hands slip under her skirt and find purchase on her cunt, gathering the slick leaking from her arousal. Her scent spikes as she bucks up her hips and, to Heeseung’s own surprise, he recoils from the smell of it and breaks the kiss. The girl doesn’t stop her advances, switching to kiss down his long neck instead.
He subconsciously scrunches up his nose, his finger halting its movement for a second.
“What perfume are you wearing?” He asks, voice hoarse from the makeout session. He tilts his head back, allowing access and finding stimulation, but the usual thrill is a bit dull tonight.
“My pheromones,” she manages between kisses, “you like it?”
It’s quite the opposite, to be honest. Heeseung finds himself hating it. It’s too sweet. Too sharp. It sits wrong in his nose, burns at the back of his throat, like inhaling smoke for the first time. His eyes water.
There’s something wrong. He’s not enjoying this.
And to make things worse and more confusing, his chest hurts. It constricts, like his lungs decide to shrink into a ball of unexplained pain. Heeseung’s breath stutters, almost doubling over. His mind is a frantic buzz of noise, chanting something that he can’t seem to fully register yet.
Not my omega. Not daisies. Not honey.
Heeseung feels something twist in his gut.
The nameless omega—he forgot to ask for her name—doesn’t notice the shift yet, the way Heeseung is already a frozen statue of confusion and frustration in her embrace. She continues, trailing down hot, wet kisses along the prominent line of his collarbone and sucks the tender skin.
“Ow!” Heeseung yelps, instinctively pushing her away. The spot stings like a pulsing heartbeat, void of any pleasure that it usually would give. He staggers backwards once.
The girl frowns, clearly not happy being pushed like that. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”
“I—” Heeseung hisses, his shirt sitting wrong on his skin, her scent smelling wrong in his nose. He shakes his head. “Shit. I’m sorry, I—I have somewhere to be.”
The girl scoffs, disbelieving. “What?! Heeseung, you can’t just—”
But Heeseung can, and he already does. The alpha is out of the room in the next minute, deliberately the calls of his name and the strings of insults that come from behind him. He makes a run for it.
What the fuck did just happen? Heeseung is never one to refuse a good time with omega, but his wolf is quiet tonight. Too quiet, like it’s being silent on purpose in solidarity for something he’s yet to know—or yet to realise.
The hazy image comes back to his mind, slowly becoming sharp and clear. Heeseung thinks his lungs have turned into bricks when he realises that he’s been imagining you. That his head has been loud with the thoughts of you, even when he’s with someone else.
Why? Why is this happening? Why you?
Heeseung makes a turn to where the locker room is, planning to grab his duffel and leave, when he bumps into Riki and Jay, freshly out of the shower.
“Heeseung hyung?” A shirtless Riki calls his name, then raises a brow when he sees his condition. “Was wondering where you were. But those lipstick stains told me enough.”
Heeseung wipes his neck harshly. Wordlessly, he yanks his locker open and checks himself out in a mirror. He turns his face left and right, yanking down his under eyes, then sighs. Riki and Jay exchange looks. The air is slowly thickening with the pheromones of a distressed alpha, coming from none other than Heeseung.
“You good, mate?” Jay decides to ask him. Heeseung doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he’s as good as he wants himself to be. The alpha lets out another sigh and slams the door closed.
“I think something is definitely wrong with me.”
“Is it practice?” Jay softens his voice, already switching on his therapist-friend mode. “Hee, today’s just that day. Everybody was losing their shits, it’s not just you.”
Heeseung leans his back on the locker and tilts his head upwards. “It’s not that. I mean it biologically. Ever since—” Heeseung pauses, suddenly unsure if saying out loud would make things right. But Riki and Jay have already caught onto it.
“Ever since what?”
Heeseung chooses to deflect. “Look, I was trying to make out with this one pretty omega just now. But no matter how much kissing we did, I just couldn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung points to his sweatpants. Riki and Jay curiously follow with their eyes. “She was practically sucking my tongue and I’m not even bricked up, man!”
Riki furrows his eyebrows. “Not even a spark?”
Heeseung shakes his head. “I couldn’t feel anything. At all. Only,” he swallows harshly. “I only felt disgusted. By her.”
Silence hangs in the room at his revelation. Riki’s expression morphs into something akin to genuine surprise, while Jay only stares at him with a gaping mouth before he starts typing on his phone.
“This is dead serious. You can’t have sex without your dick. That's like a banana cake without bananas.”
Heeseung and Riki grimace. “Please don’t ever compare my dick to a banana again.”
“Or a banana cake.” Riki slaps his shoulder. “That’s my favourite, hyung. Don’t be gross.”
Jay waves a dismissive hand, eyes still glued on his phone. “Right, right. Anyway, I texted Sunoo.”
Heeseung’s eyes go wide like saucer plates at the name and groans. “Sunoo?! Jay, you know he’s still mad at me.”
“I know, but he’s the only one who probably knows the answer to this.” Jay smacks his lips when he reads a new text from Sunoo. “He’s staying back for a lab session. Let’s go to the medicine building.”
And that’s how Heeseung finds himself cramped into a tiny booth of a ramyeon stall, located by the road near the faculty of medicine. A pouty Sunoo is sitting across from him, shooting him his foxy side-eyes as he whines at Jay.
“Jay hyung, why did you bring this traitor with you?” Sunoo pulls at the sleeves of Jay’s hoodie, sulking away from Heeseung. It’s only the three of them since Riki had gone home with his girlfriend just now. “I thought the three of us would include you, me, and Riki.”
Jay sighs exasperatedly. “I had to, Sunoo. That traitor is having a critical dick malfunction and he needs your help.”
The waitress arrives with three bowls of steaming ramyeon. Jay and Sunoo pause their not-so-quiet argument and help her place the bowls on their table. She clears her throat awkwardly, and takes a quick glance at Heeseung before leaving. Heeseung groans internally.
Great. Now words about him and his dick problem will spread around the campus.
“Is STD finally catching up with you?”
Heeseung should know that it was never that easy to get Sunoo off his back. That boy is a professional pouty sulk-er, he’ll never let Heeseung go easily. Not after harassing him with his sass, at least. Heeseung holds back a sigh, already resigned and defeated.
With a grim voice, he apologises to the brown-haired alpha. For the fifth time.
“Sunoo, I am so sorry. I know it was my fault, but for the record, I didn’t know you were serious about pretending to be an omega. Why would you even do that, anyway?”
“Because I like the attention!” Sunoo is fast to defend himself, his pout only deepening. “And because alphas will only spoil me if I was their pretty little soft omega—which I am not! And you exposing my secondary gender to that alpha just ruined my chance to be with him. Who would even call their friend, ‘my cutie little fake omega’, anyway?!”
“I was drunk!”
“A drunk traitor is still a traitor!”
Heeseung turns to Jay, sending him signals to help him out. But his best friend deliberately ignores him, too engrossed in his own bowl, pretending to be a wall. Heeseung rolls his eyes and looks back at Sunoo.
It might not be that easy to console the sulky boy, but Heeseung is labelled a sweet talker for a reason.
“You’re already a pretty alpha, Sunoo. Prettier than any omega I know. Anyone would drop everything for you even if they knew you weren’t an omega.”
Like a switch being flipped, the frown on Sunoo’s melts away, replaced by a beam so wide it shows off his perfect teeth.
“Aw, Heeseungie hyung. You’re now forgiven. Now tell me about this dick problem of yours.”
Jay and Heeseung look at each other and relax into their chairs in relief. Heeseung sends him a look of, ‘That was easy,’ to which Jay raises his eyebrow, ‘Why hadn’t you done it sooner?’
Now, with Sunoo not threatening to kill the burgundy-haired alpha anymore, Heeseung can finally enjoy a few bites of his untouched ramyeon. It’s already a bit cold and soggy, but the broth makes up for it. He retells the story to Sunoo between bites, watching the ever expressive boy react to it with various expressions.
“It’s not uncommon, though. But since it’s you, it must have felt very concerning.” Sunoo hums in thought, tapping his full lips with the thinnest tips of his chopsticks. “Well, Heeseungie hyung, did you imprint on any omegas?”
Heeseung hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head, feeling Jay’s eyes on him.
“No.”
“Hm, okay. Even if it’s due to imprints, it has to come from both sides,” Sunoo rubs his chin, now looking every bit a live action of Detective Conan, minus the glasses. “Did you conjure a bond with anyone? Maybe accidentally?”
Heeseung’s lips part. “I…would’ve known, right?”
“Right.” Sunoo nods firmly, then tilts his head. “Did you scent one of your hookups, then?”
“An almost-hookup,” Jay cuts in, clearly enjoying this interrogation. Heeseung shoots him a look. Jay is always out to rat him out and he’s actually so close to disowning him.
He grunts. “Just…someone.”
Sunoo smiles in amusement. “So you did scent someone. Was it someone you like?”
“Define like.”
“Like them enough to want to kiss them. Like them enough to want to fuck them. Like them enough to even want to scent them to begin with.” Sunoo shrugs. “Pick one.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. Does he like you? Wanting to kiss and fuck someone don’t equal to liking them. Because if that was true, then there’s no other explanation to Heeseung ‘liking’ every omega he has fucked other than him having an insanely big heart—which he doesn’t. He liked the sex and their company; that was all there was to it.
Which leaves him option number three.
Heeseung’s never the guy to sit with his feelings—at least not the romantic kind. You’re an unfamiliar territory; something that he deliberately avoids his entire life, simply because he never sees settling down with a mate as a desirable goal or accomplishment. And, perfectly hidden under his fuckboy persona is also a thin layer of fear.
Fear of getting hurt by the thing that’s supposed to be love.
But does he like you?
Maybe he does. He’s always liked the way you laugh; you always cover your mouth with one hand when you do, like your smile is only visible in the privacy of those who really know you. He’s always noticed the way you touch the tip of your nose when people’s eyes are on you. He’s always thought the natural blush that you have when you’re shy is adorable.
In that one single minute, Heeseung realises that he’s been paying attention to you more than he thought he did.
Fuck. He does like you.
But does liking have to lead to being mated?
That responsibility is way taller and heavier than him and Heeseung is beyond freaked out.
“Earth to Heeseungie hyung?”
“Why does it even matter? What does it even have to do with me not getting a boner during a makeout session?” Heeseung demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. Is Sunoo punishing him for being the reason he fumbled that tall, hot alpha two weeks ago? Will Sunoo truly ever forgive him? He already apologised five times!
Sunoo, seeing enough of his hyung’s suffering, finally relents. “Geez, relax. I wasn’t playing with you. I asked because most of the time this happens,” he gestures at Heeseung and his crotch. Heeseung instinctively closes his long legs. “It’s because the wolf has already liked one omega. An omega they recognise as their mate. It’s the only explanation why you felt disgusted just now.”
Mate. That cursed word again. Beside Sunoo, Jay is whistling.
“Sorry. You mean my wolf, my alpha, likes one omega and decides I shouldn’t fuck around anymore?”
Sunoo nods. “Basically, yeah. But it usually isn’t that easy, hyung. A bond has to have been conjured between your wolf and their wolf by any kind of markings.”
“Like?”
“Like biting. Or scenting.”
Scenting. Heeseung didn’t just do scenting with you, he was scent-marking you.
“But that’s impossible,” Jay interrupts, confusion etching onto his handsome features. His leaning forward now, his empty bowl pushed to the center of the table, which reminds Heeseung of his own bowl. The alpha quickly finishes his noodles. “Scenting between unmated alpha and unmated omega will only conjure a temporary, fragile bond. It should’ve been gone by now—the scenting happened five days ago.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I can detect some floral scent in Heeseungie hyung’s pheromones.”
Heeseung almost chokes on his noodles. “You do?”
Sunoo leans forward, squinting his eyes at him like he’s some kind of lab specimen. “Yeah. It’s faint, but it’s there. Sweet. Floral. Clingy.” He tilts his head again. “It’s weird.”
Across from him, Heeseung is frozen. His grip on the chopsticks tightens. He swallows harshly.
Jay leans back, arms crossed. “But if it’s still there after five days—”
“It doesn’t automatically mean fated mates,” Sunoo cuts in quickly, tone sharper this time. He shoots Jay a look before turning back to Heeseung. “Don’t jump to that conclusion. That’s, like, extremely rare. And also very dramatic.”
Heeseung exhales, shoulders dropping just a little.
Right. Dramatic. His alpha begs to differ.
“It could just be a stronger-than-usual temporary bond,” Sunoo continues, more thoughtful now. “Maybe your alpha overdid it when you scented them. Or the omega was in a heightened emotional state, so the bond lasted longer.”
Jay hums, not entirely convinced.
“But the whole not getting turned on thing?” He gestures vaguely. “That still doesn’t explain it fully.”
Sunoo taps his chin again. “Mhm. That part’s interesting.” He levels Heeseung with a curious look. “Who is this girl, anyway? You seem pretty fucked over her.”
Heeseung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you not say it like that? Like I’m some kind of a broken alpha?”
“You kinda are right now,” Sunoo says bluntly.
“Sunoo.”
“I’m serious!” He leans forward again, eyes lighting up. “Your body is rejecting other omegas. That’s not normal for you. Like, at all.”
Heeseung slumps deeper into his seat. As if it’s not already obvious enough, Sunoo just had to spell it out loud.
“I noticed,” he mutters, defeated.
Sunoo softens slightly at that, sighing as he rests his chin on his palm. “Okay. Look. Don’t panic yet.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re literally here because your dick stopped working.”
“…Okay, I’m a little panicked.”
Sunoo waves his chopsticks dismissively. “It’s probably not fated mates. If it were, you’d be way worse right now.”
Heeseung stills. “Worse?”
“Yeah,” Sunoo shrugs. “You’d be obsessing. Unable to stay away. Your senses would go crazy. You’d feel everything they feel, more or less.”
Jay slowly turns to look at Heeseung. Heeseung immediately avoids his gaze. That fucker is always eager to catch his ‘Gotcha!’ moment, it irritates him to the core.
“That doesn’t sound like me,” he says a bit too quickly, the lie tasting acidic on his tongue.
Sunoo mustn't know about the knot of uneasiness in his chest. Sunoo mustn’t know about the face that comes to his mind when he’s kissing someone else. None of his friends must know that he’s obsessing right now, itching to flee and find you in the middle of the night.
“Exactly,” Sunoo nods, unaware of his friend’s turmoil. “So relax. I’ll look into it more, yeah? Might be some weird hormonal response or delayed imprint reaction.”
Heeseung lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, okay.”
“Or you can do a try-and-error,” Sunoo suggests, reaching over to pat Heeseung’s shoulder. “Just do what you always do—try hooking up with different omegas. Maybe the one you made out with tonight was just a bad compatibility for you.”
Heeseung perks up at that. Sunoo and Jay, not noticing the shift in the air, are already moving forward with a different topic, completely oblivious to the newly-lit determination now burning up his body.
Just do what you always do.
Right. Heeseung has a high body count for a reason. He decides, with a final resolution, that he should solve this his own way.
If Heeseung spends every night for the next two weeks trying to bed different omegas, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.
If Heeseung fails each time, unable to enjoy every kiss and friction, Sunoo and Jay don't have to know.
If the pain in his chest worsens every time he leaves the barely-warm beds, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.
If Heeseung avoids looking at you, avoids bumping into you, avoids speaking to you—he hopes you don’t know about it.
A quiet voice from his wolf whispers something that he refuses to acknowledge: He hopes you’ll forgive him for being unfaithful.
You’ve been sick for two weeks.
At first it was subtle, like a faint throb in your heart that makes you stop whatever you’re doing. The first time it happened, you were in the middle of a group discussion for an elective subject.
A quiet alpha, or a wolf hybrid named Sunghoon, to be exact, had noticed the way you winced from the pain. He didn’t say anything, but you guessed he told an omega about what he saw because right before you exited the library, one of the girls had passed you a free menstrual pad.
He thought you were experiencing period cramps. You wished it was just period cramps.
Then, it gradually grew to something worse. A sudden stabbing pain in your chest. A twist in your gut, like you were expecting something bad to happen. Sometimes it was random palpitations, where your heart was skipping huge beats, as if you were about to go down on a roller coaster.
Each time it happened, you only placed your palm over your heart, hoping it’d go away. You never understood why, but those pains only came at night, preventing you from getting any good sleep and rest. And each time you tried to close your eyes, there was only one face flashing behind your eyelids.
Heeseung.
Yujin had dragged you to the clinic, but the doctor came to a conclusion that you were just having pre-heat symptoms—which couldn’t be further from the truth, because you just had your cycle one month ago. You’re not supposed to go on your quarterly-cycle of torture for another two months.
“Oh my Goddess, you’re burning up.” Yujin’s palm is cold against your forehead. Her face is pulled into a tight expression. “Let’s just skip today’s classes, okay? I’ll stay with you.”
You weakly nod, barely registering Yujin’s movement around the room. Your body feels like a furnace, the heat simmering in your veins almost rivaling a volcano’s lava. You discard the blanket to get some sort of relief, only to shiver in the cold when the air touches your skin.
After a few minutes of exiting and entering your room, Yujin finally sits by your bed. She helps you with a glass of water and a dosage of paracetamol, careful to wipe any loose drops like a concerned mother. It doesn’t get better, but at least your throat doesn’t feel like it’s being scrubbed with sandpaper anymore.
“How’re you feeling now?”
“Dying, but a bit less dramatic.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to give Suho from True Beauty a run for his money, would we?”
You chuckle softly, though it sounds more like a seal with a sore throat.
“But seriously, though. It’s been two weeks.” Yujin purses her lips, the worriness still marring her beautiful face. “I’m so worried, Y/N. What’s happening to you?”
You don’t answer right away. “It’s my omega.”
Yujin’s eyebrow jumps. “What about her?”
You also wonder the same thing. Swallowing, you finally let your friend in on the torturous days you have been going through. “One night, after our practice ran quite late two weeks ago, she went a bit hysteric. I couldn’t stop vomiting.” You recalled, eyes distant in memory. “She kept yelling something about a traitor, about rejection. I don’t know, really. But that’s how it started.”
“Two weeks ago, at night, you say?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Yujin is quiet for a few extended minutes, caressing her thumb over your knuckles. The motion puts you at ease, and slowly, you feel the pills begin working their chemicals.
“Did you, perhaps, hear about anything that happened that night?” You shake your head, unsure if your cheerleader squad had mentioned anything. Yujin hums. “Because I think I did.”
“What?”
“So I’m friends with this one omega named Sunoo from my faculty. A pretty boy and a petty gossiper.” Yujin starts, now treading her words slowly as if walking on eggshells. “He knows everyone on this campus. Especially the hot stuff, you know—student body, athletes, cheerleaders.” Yujin eyes you but not unkindly. “He knows you too. Just the basic stuff.”
“Like?”
“Your name, your major, your Instagram account.”
You let out a breath, a bit unsure where this is heading, but listen anyway. “Okay.”
“And because of his impeccable knowledge of gossip, I heard from him about a cheerleader breaking down in the group chat after a certain alpha left her mid-making out, all slicked and horny while he didn’t even pop a borner.”
You hold onto her every word, but for some reason, a dread has settled deep in your bones, like your body is already anticipating some bad news. Your heart, previously beating fast, is now sprinting like it might escape your rib now.
“And that alpha was Heeseung.”
It hits before you can even think.
A sharp, twisting pain lances through your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs like you’ve been struck. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching at nothing.
Your omega whines—hurt, betrayed. And suddenly, you understand why. The cries about betrayal. His face haunts you every night, like a painful reminder of the destiny you're subjected to.
You try to swallow once, then twice, before you find your voice back.
“Heeseung?” You try. His name now tastes bitter on your tongue.
Yujin, ever the empathetic, senses it, and tightens her hold on your hand. “Yeah,” she nods. She lets a moment of quiet pass, fidgeting and swallowing like you. Like the news has more stories that she’s yet to tell; an extended part to a nightmare that’s been keeping you up at night. You brace yourself.
“And two nights ago I saw him at Jake’s frat party with a girl. Doing sexy stuff. The usual.” Yujin can’t look at your face, choosing to stare at your intertwined hands instead. “The frat boys told me that he’s been at it almost every night. For two weeks.”
Is it possible to hurt someone this much in a span of five minutes? Getting shot multiple times would’ve hurt less than this.
There’s a heavy silence, then there’s your small, quiet voice, laced with unfiltered hurt.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“I’m saying, Y/N, that you might be facing bond rejection symptoms right now.” Yujin licks her lips. “I’m saying that you and Heeseung just might be fated mates. That night he scented you? You guys conjured a half-bond. And him fucking around with other omegas like this hurts your wolf because she knows—only this kind of bond can do that.”
Is having a fated mate supposed to hurt like this? Like your chest is caving in, collapsing under the torment of unwanted love. Can you even call it love? Whatever it is that you and Heeseung unknowingly have been sharing—Is it even love?
It’s not. It’s just…fate.
You shake your head. There’s hot pain behind your eyes, a sign of an impending doom. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”
A drop of tears rolls down your face and in the next blink, everything is already blurry. “I—I think I already knew it.” Your voice is wet from despair, the pain almost feels tangible. “He never meets my eyes anymore and—and every time I see him, I feel like I might die.”
A warm pair of arms pulls you close, and instantly the scent of green tea fills up your senses. Your roommate holds you tight, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as you sob into her chest.
Your wolf, the contradict that she is, hopes that it was Heeseung embracing you. Still hoping it was the alpha comforting you, soothing you with his voice and that calming pheromones of his. Still foolishly longing for him despite everything.
You feel pathetic.
Your crying subsides after a while, still curling up against Yujin like a hurt puppy. You’re already losing track of time, if it’s still proper to have breakfast or if it’s already time for lunch. It is Yujin who finally speaks first.
“Do you hate it?”
You let the question linger in the air, turning it over in your thoughts like what you’ve been doing the past hour since you woke up. “I don’t hate the bond. Nor him.”
You pause, gnawing at your lower lip. Then you exhale.
“I just hate that I was never given a chance to do this properly.”
Yujin pulls away and makes you face her. She wipes your tears using her sleeves, murmuring sweet words as you feel your chest slightly loosening at her kind gesture. “You might still have it. Go and talk to him, Y/N. If he’s avoiding you like this, he might’ve felt something too, right?”
“If he’s avoiding me like this, he might just not want anything to do with me.” A humourless chuckle escapes your lips. “And to think that I thought I had a chance.”
“Wait, I never asked you this. Do you like Heeseung? Both of you; your wolf and you.”
You don’t answer right away. The question sits between the two of you, heavy and fragile; like a mark refusing to be looked over.
Do you like Heeseung?
Your wolf stirs immediately. Yes, I like him.
The answer is quick. Certain. Definite.
But you purse your lips, forcing yourself to think harder, deeper. Forcing yourself to think about you, not her. You can only come to one conclusion.
“I don’t know,” you whisper, honest. It sounds weak even to your ears. Beside you, Yujin keeps rubbing small, grounding circles over your hand.
“I already know my omega likes him,” you admit softly. “She decided that the moment he stayed and took care of me that night.”
Oh, how pathetic is it to fall for someone for doing something as mundane as staying and taking care of you?
It’s laughable. But it makes your chest ache even more, like your heart was an empty can and fate was crushing it with its tight grip.
“But me…” you continue, voice quieter now, “I don’t even know him like that.”
You shake your head, frustration flickering through your expression.
“I don’t know what he’s like when he’s not surrounded by people, or when he’s not—” you gesture vaguely, like you can scoop up every rumour tied to his name. “That version of him everyone talks about.”
You stare at your hands. “But I wanted to.”
Yujin follows, voice soft. “Wanted to?”
“I wanted to get to know him,” you continue, voice trembling. “When I first found out how my wolf feels for him, I thought it could be like how I’ve always imagined having a fated mate would be: slowly falling in love with them. With him.”
A wistful smile graces your beautiful features, soft and vulnerable. “I wanted to know which game he remembers the most. I wanted to know if the number on his jersey means anything. Silly things like that. Not this.”
Your hand moves to your chest unconsciously, rubbing the surface softly.
“Not like this. Not when it hurts every time I—” you cut yourself off, breath shaking. “Not when it hurts every time I look at him.”
You still remember, after one grueling routine, when the pain was still kind enough to let you come to practice. The players had just finished their practice too, slicked with sweat and looking exhausted as ever. Among the tired alphas, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s.
You had the instincts to go to him and pass him the cold mineral you’d unknowingly saved for him. But the look in his eyes—it was unreadable. Cold. An abyss that was enough to make you stay rooted in your place.
Then, without even a graze of a smile, he looked away, taking a bottle from Riki’s hand.
It had hurt more than you’d like to admit.
“I think…” you try again, more carefully this time. “If things were different, I would’ve liked him.”
Your throat tightens. This time, you’re reminded of that night before everything turned cruel like this. The warmth of his embrace that lingered. The spice of his scent that clung. The safety of his company that comforted you.
Was any of it real?
“And if things were the same…I think I would've still liked him anyway.”
That’s the truth. A quiet, terrifying truth that settles deep in your chest like an unshakeable ground. The kind of truth that makes even your most grounding friend sit still in your bed.
“And that’s what makes it worse,” you whisper.
Because now it’s not just your omega.
It’s you, too.
The one-week intervarsity basketball tournament has finally begun. Around seven universities have sent their representatives, leading to a flood of humans in different-coloured jerseys wandering around on your campus, its official host.
You’re excused from the whole week’s classes, seeing your cheerleaders and bunches of alphas more than you have ever seen your classmates since the tournament started. It was exciting at first, to participate in such a prestigious tournament that is always the talk of town. But the tight schedules between games is becoming more taxing and demanding.
It doesn’t help that the bond rejection symptoms have only gotten worse, hindering you from giving your best potential at each routine. Which, of course, catches the attention of your captain, and she’s not very amused with it.
“Y/N. If you’re not telling me what is wrong with you, then don’t make me find excuses to put you on the bleachers.” Narin once whispered to you on the third day of the tournament. You merely nodded, trying hard not to scrunch your noise at the sour smell of bubblegum and burnt cotton candy. She eyed you up and down, before she scoffed.
“Don’t get too butt-hurt that Heeseung’s fucking other cheerleaders,” she grunted. You froze. “At least you got your round that night. He fucking rejected me.”
What? The confusion must be clear on your face, because then Narin rolled her eyes, fixing the blue ribbon in her hair before she turned to face you.
“You smelled like him for weeks, Y/N. Don’t think people didn’t know that you two fucked after they won against that eastern university that night.” And then she left, leaving a dumbfounded you in the hallway, standing still like a lifeless statue.
Realisation starts settling in. Did people think you and Heeseung—fuck. You should’ve known.
No wonder many eyes were on you during those days when you still smelled like Heeseung. You thought it was just because Heeseung was one of the most sought after alphas on campus. Not this. Not whatever allegation this is.
Still, the bomb Narin had dropped wasn’t enough to stop yourself from pushing yourself past your limits. You don’t even know what your limits are anymore. They seem to keep expanding with every new pain that blooms in your chest.
You’re still a bit sluggish, but at least Narin is off your back. Whatever bitterness she harbours for you, though not forgotten, is at least tamed on the last day of the tournament.
You knew she wouldn’t understand, but you couldn’t help it if the pain worsens. You wish, for once, that Heeseung would take it slow with the cheerleaders from the opposing teams. Because the pain has become unbearable; cracks turning into holes of emptiness in your heart, faint pulsing turning into straight-up invisible stabbing in your gut. You’re actually surprised that you’re not already bleeding from how real it has felt.
However, deep down, there’s a small, barely-there gratitude for Heeseung for not doing it in front of you. At least you can spare yourself from whatever possible torment this fate has destined for you to face if you had to watch Heeseung fucking another omega in the empty locker room.
But you guess it’s time you finally, actually reach your limit, and your body can’t seem to be more dramatic to choose the last game as its last straw. As Heeseung hoops in the last score for the team, sealing their title as the champion, the audience erupts into the loudest cheer you’ve ever heard. You quickly get to your feet to perform the celebratory routine, but the world is spinning and your head is light when you stand up. You stagger backwards.
“Oh my Goddess, are you alright?” One of your cheerleader friends catches you in her arms, shaking you out of your pained daze.
“I…” you cough, your voice only scratching at your throat. “I just need to. Sit. Yeah. I need to sit down and talk to Heeseung.”
“Heeseung?” The girl, who you finally recognise as Rei, looks over at the center of the court, where almost the whole school is hooting and hollering in joy. “Wait—let me sit you down first. You’re pale as hell, damn.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you’re finally seated. Rei has passed you a bottle of mineral water and fans you with her pink hand-fan. She stays by your side, looking after you as the rest of the world celebrates the first champion of your university team. You’re painfully grateful to her for it.
“Hey. Can I call one of your friends? Or maybe, do you have an alpha I can contact?” Rei starts when you’re not speaking, too focused on not focusing on the pain to remember to talk. “You asked for Heeseung just now. Is he your alpha?”
Is he?
You wish you knew the answer to that too.
Instead, you shake your head. “He’s not my alpha. I just…need to have a few words with him.”
Rei purses her lips, clearly not pleased with your priority at the moment but obliges anyway. “Alright. Let me text my cousin real quick.” She says, already rummaging inside her bag for her phone.
Her statement intrigues you. “Cousin?”
“Nishimura Riki. And he’s not replying. Gimme a sec.” You watch as Rei presses the call button on her phone and puts the device over her ear. You follow her line of sight as she turns to look at the court again. The crowd hasn’t calmed down from the high of the win yet.
“Hello, adopted fuck. I need you to read my text ASAP—Nobody’s stealing your girlfriend, Riki! You can go back to kissing her face after you read my text—Okay, okay! My friend, Y/N, needs to talk to Heeseung. President-level urgent.” Rei pauses, taking a quick look at you before she continues. “Yes. It seems very important. Just get his ass here fast. Yeah—Congrats, by the way. I’m not buying you that Chrome Hearts chain. Bye.”
Rei sighs as she pockets her phone. “Heeseung will be here in five minutes. You good? Do you still need anything? I feel like I should call someone else. You’re friends with Ahn Yujin, aren’t you?” She rambles on. For someone who barely speaks to you, Rei sure is a caring omega.
You give her a small smile.”I’m alright, Rei. I’ll rest after seeing him.”
Rei hums, checking her phone when it vibrates. “Aight, if you say so. I’ll be around here until they move to celebrate at Jake’s frat tonight.” She gathers her stuff and stands up, brushing her pleated skirt with practiced elegance that you know is instilled in every cheerleader’s demeanour.
“You take care of yourself. And I better not see you at the party.”
“Thank you, Rei.” You wave at her and watch as the lines of her frame get smaller, disappearing into the crowd.
Now alone, the weight of reality is finally hitting you square in the chest. You curse, pulling your hair when you realise your stupid, impulsive decision, made in the whim of desperation to get the pain go away.
“This is stupid,” you whisper. Without thinking further, you grab your bag and stand to leave. But before you can flee the scene, a heavy presence with the familiar scent of spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze drifts into your senses.
“Y/N?”
The sound of your name leaving his lips has locked you in place. The haunting familiarity of his voice, one that follows you into your restless sleeps and every waking hour, engulfs you almost like the night he held you in his arms.
Except this time, there’s a piercing pain in your heart that comes with his presence. A dull, throbbing ache that’s been a constant company to you, manifested into the shape of the man that your wolf yearns for.
Lee Heeseung.
“Y/N?” He repeats, but you don’t dare to face him just yet. “Riki said you wanted to, uh, talk to me.”
Licking your dry lips, you turn to Heeseung, and the sight has almost rendered you breathless.
Heeseung’s still wearing his jersey, standing tall to his height like he’s dominating the air around him. His burgundy hair looks softer under the light, some small strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. His shoulders are squared up, still lined with pride and the high from winning the tournament. He looks at you calmly, but the edges of his eyes are somewhat gentler; if the lights weren’t tricking your eyes.
You gulp, already losing the battle before it has even started. Why does he have to look so handsome?
You force yourself to say something. “Yeah. I did. I mean, I do. It’s important. I think.”
Heeseung is patient. If your nervousness is something unusual to him, he doesn’t comment on it. After all, you’re indeed known as a shy girl among the cheerleaders.
“I’m…I’m going straight to the point and be honest with you.” Is this really happening? You’re scared that if you were to speak more, your heart might leap out of your mouth from how hard it is pumping behind your ribs. You hold your bag tighter, trying to ground yourself.
“I’m listening,” he hums.
The words are simple. His voice is calm. Too calm, like he’s unaffected, like he doesn’t have a clue about what you’re about to say. It almost makes you falter.
For a second, you just stare at him. At the same face your mind has been haunted for weeks, at the same eyes you’ve been avoiding because they make everything feel too real.
Except everything is actually real. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.
Your fingers curl tighter around your bag.
“Did you…feel anything?” you ask, voice smaller than you intended. “That night.”
Heeseung’s brows pull together, confused. “What do you mean?”
Your throat burns. Stop. Turn around. Leave.
“When you helped me,” you stubbornly continue, ignoring the self-preservation act your wolf’s pulling. “When you scented me. Did you feel something? Anything?”
There’s a shift in the air. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Heeseung’s shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens a fraction. A flash of something that leaves your heart hopeful crosses his face, but it leaves as soon as it comes.
“I was just helping you,” he finally says, almost too quickly. “You were in a bad state.”
The ache in your chest pulses, turning alive with each passing second.
“I know that,” you nod, almost too fast, the throbbing in your head comes back. The headache is well-guaranteed after this, you’re sure of it. “I know. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I just—I just need to know if you felt it too.”
“Felt what?”
You stare at him. God, he’s really making you say it. Is he truly clueless or is he playing with you? Whatever he is trying to do, he’s succeeding at making you feel smaller and…desperate.
“The pull,” you whisper after a while, “the connection.”
Silent stretches between the two of you. Heeseung returns your gaze, but his black eyes reveal nothing about his thoughts.
You try again. “You felt it too…right?”
There it is. For a fleeting second, you think you see it. That flicker in his eyes. The subtle hesitation. The twitch in his jaw. It almost makes you feel hopeful.
Heeseung exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair.
“Y/N,” he starts slower this time, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “There’s no such thing as that.”
If your heart was made of lead, you’re sure it’d clang to the floor so loud for how fast it drops.
“What?”
“Fated mates. Bond. Whatever you’re thinking.” He shakes his head, like he’s making a show of how ridiculous you sound. “That’s not real.”
The cracks finally shatter, allowing a big, gaping hole filled with utter anguish to take place in where your heart used to reside. Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens.
“But—” you try, voice undeniably trembling now. “Then, what is this?”
Your hand presses weakly against your chest.
“Why does it hurt like this? Why does,” your voice cracks, your omega thrashing wildly inside you, “why does it hurt so much?”
For a split second, panic flashes across his face. There’s a change in his scent. A sharp, biting spice that’s stinging your nose and thick, briny salt that leaves your throat itchy.
Because he knows. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows how he almost went psychosis the moment it happened to him three weeks ago.
But Heeseung’s always been good at leaving—it’s the one thing that’s been keeping his heart in a safe chest without any chances of getting hurt. It’s almost cruel that he never really cares if leaving right after sex would hurt any of the omegas, but he’s never felt bad enough to stop.
And you feel like someone who will make him stay.
So he does what he knows best.
“It’s in your head,” he says, firmer now. “Probably just your heat cycle messing with you. Or stress.”
The moment those words leave his mouth, your chest feels hollow. Your omega, previously hysterical and angry, is now awfully quiet and wounded.
Right. It’s just stress, he said.
You wish it was just stress.
“Oh,” is the only word you can utter. Heeseung nods, as if convincing himself too, and takes a step back.
But for you, it feels too much like a line being drawn.
“Maybe you should get some rest. You look kind of pale,” he suggests, though his voice is slowly getting small the longer he watches the changes in your expression. You’re not looking at him now, just staring at your feet with trembling fists.
The wilting flowers are back in his senses, filling up his nose and beating at his heart like a bat. Heeseung bites his lips, swallowing down the guilt.
“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
The sight of his retreating back…why is it so blurry?
“You are so fucking stupid, Heeseung.”
Heeseung’s always wondered how his best friend’s citrusy pheromones are going to smell like when he’s mad. Because Jay never gets mad at him. His friend has so much patience that every playful banter always stays as just a playful banter.
But tonight, Heeseung finally senses it. Jay smells bitter, like overripe lemon left too long in hot water. There’s a sharp, metallic tang to it too, representing the control that he’s trying so hard to keep in check. In response to the alpha’s irritated scent, Heeseung’s dominant wolf is itching to draw his claws out, sensing it as a threat.
They’re standing at the backyard of the frat house, where the pool is glowing blue and the night sky is blinking stars. It’s quieter here, with less people hanging around. Many guests have preferred to dance inside, still in celebration mode post-winning.
“What the fuck were you thinking, trying to get into someone else’s pants right after her—her confession?” Jay scoffs in disbelief. He has his back facing Heeseung, the tense muscle of his shoulders visible through the outline of his Polo shirt.
Heeseung, on the other hand, looks more disheveled. The collar of his shirt is misplaced, and there are faint lipstick marks staining his neck and the corner of his mouth. Jay had heard from Riki about what happened between Heeseung and you and the alpha was determined to drag Heeseung out of the bedroom, not before muttering a small apology to the omega he was with. It was all shouts and aggressive whispers between the two alphas until Riki managed to shoo them out.
Which brings them to this moment, where Jay is a ticking bomb and Heeseung is trying his best to calm down. Jay didn’t exactly know who she was, just that he’d seen her face among the cheerleaders. While Heeseung, well, he’s too worked up to explain.
“Confession? What made you think—”
“You guys are fated mates, Heeseung. Can’t you fucking see it?” Jay whips his head around. “This pull you’re feeling is because you guys are fated mates. There’s no other explanation to it.”
Heeseung clenches his jaw. “Those things don’t exist, Jongseong. Not to me.”
“Oh, come on. Then explain your sex problem.” Jay hisses, his eyes turning sharper. “You think I don’t know that you still can’t get your dick wet with other omegas?”
The burgundy-haired alpha doesn’t blink. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is when she could’ve died!” Jay snaps, his scent flaring with his nose. Heeseung grits his teeth, feeling challenged.
Then, softer, like vulnerability leaking through his anger, Jay continues: “You could’ve died, Heeseung.”
Heeseung stills. “What?”
Jay lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think so little of this matter, don’t you?” His voice drops, tight and furious. “A half-bond between fated mates when left too long can cause death. And with the speed you’re going with all these nameless omegas, I bet it’ll be her turn to die first.”
Heeseung scoffs, but it’s weaker now. There’s a new fear settling in his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” Jay cuts in sharply. “You’re being stupid. I saw her just now. She’s pale as fuck.”
Heeseung’s quiet for a moment, staring into his friend’s eyes with almost the same amount of resentment. “It has nothing to do with me.”
Like a punishment to his lie, something twists sharply in his chest. But Heeseung is quick to mask his pain under a calm facade, gritting his teeth so hard he might break his jaw. Jay scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Oh, so you’re doing this again.” Jay steps closer, not backing away. “You’re running away again, like the coward that you are. You’ll just run and run, deflect and disappear. Typical Heeseung.”
Jay knows he’ll hit a spot if he says it, but he couldn’t care less. He watches as the expression on Heeseung hardens, giving away the emotions he kept locked in his chest.
“Don’t.”
But Jay doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t.
“You think I don’t see it?” Jay presses, voice rising. “Every time something starts to mean something, you bolt. New omega, new bed, new distraction—anything to avoid actually feeling something real.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what this is!” Jay gestures wildly, frustration spilling over. “You found your mate, and instead of dealing with it, you’re out there fucking anything that moves just to prove you’re still in control.”
Silence slams between them, heavy and ugly. Both alphas are holding back from spiraling, neck straining from self-control and simmering anger.
Heeseung’s laugh this time is cold. “Mate?” he repeats, like the word tastes disgusting. “You really believe in that shit?”
Jay stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face. “I believe in what’s right in front of me.”
“There’s nothing in front of you,” Heeseung shoots back. “She’s just an omega I helped. That’s it.”
“Then why her?” Jay fires immediately. “Why can you find her in a crowd? Why does your scent stick to her for days—for weeks? Why can’t you even touch another omega without looking like you’re about to throw up?”
Heeseung falters, his words failing him as Jay hits him with those facts. His shaky stance doesn’t go unnoticed by the alpha, though. He’s quick to seize the chance.
Jay inhales sharply. “You know I’m right, Heeseung. You and Y/N share a bond.”
“So what?!” Heeseung snaps, frustration finally cracking through. “So what if there’s a bond? You want me to just—what? Drop everything? Play house? Act like I’m suddenly someone I’m not?”
Heeseung meets Jay’s fiery gaze head-on and shoves his friend harshly. “Stay out of it, Jay. I swear to fucking God.”
“And what? Watch you let her die because you couldn’t care less to acknowledge the bond?” Jay lets out a hollow laugh, pushing Heeseung back just as hard. “And then I watch you die?”
“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about this.”
Their scents clash; sharp citrus and aggressive spice filling up the space like a warning siren. It almost turns physical, Riki almost bursts through the door when he sees their chests almost touching. But it is Jay who stops first.
Not because he wants to. But because he’s thinking of you.
“My parents are fated mates, Heeseung.” Jay starts, quieter, his voice losing its harsh edges. “Doesn’t mean you don’t believe in it, it isn’t real to other people.”
Heeseung remains quiet, his chest still moving rapidly.
Jay’s eyes turn glassy. He retreats one more step away from Heeseung. “If you don’t want her, reject the bond properly,” he says, breathing hard. “You’re letting someone know that you don’t want her as your mate. At least have the decency to be kind about it.”
Jay unclenches his fists.
“Don’t drag her through this half-assed bullshit where you keep hurting her just because you can’t make a decision.”
Heeseung freezes. Out of all words being shouted tonight, it is this quiet resignation from Jay that hits his heart the hardest.
Am I being cruel? Heeseung lowers his gaze. Am I a coward?
Heeseung doesn’t wait too long for an answer.
“Stop being a coward, Heeseung. I beg you.”
The words hang between them, like unwanted vines curling around a trunk of a tree. Heeseung’s gaze stays rooted to the ground, trying to find his voice.
But he doesn’t get the chance to.
“...Heeseung?”
Your voice, soft as it is, cuts through the air like a blade. Both alphas turn to where you’re standing by the door. The faint light spilling from the moon only highlights how pale your face is, void of any warmth and colour.
You stand there, one hand gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, your other pressed weakly against your chest. Your eyes, God, your eyes. They’re glassy, unfocused, yet locked onto him like you’ve found something you’ve been searching for your entire life.
Beside him, Heeseung can sense the way Jay’s body tenses the way his does.
“Heeseung…” you call for him again and move to get closer.
But then you flinch. Your entire body recoils, your nose scrunches.
There, lingering around Heeseung like an unwanted mark, is a scent you know too well. Fruity bubblegum and cloying cotton candy; a scent that flashes pink in your head, turning into a female rage that hits too close to home. Your gaze catches the shape of someone’s mouth staining his golden skin, and something inside you breaks.
Narin.
Heeseung smells like Narin.
Your hand instinctively goes to cover your nose, eyes slowly going wide. The room goes silent, holding its breath as Heeseung feels it.
The fleeting second where something inside you shatters.
Heeseung steps forward. “Y/N—”
But you retreat faster, away from him like he’s a disease that could kill you.
“No,” your voice cracks, shaking your head as if trying to physically deny what your body is already registering. “No, no, no…”
Your breath comes out in shallow bursts, your fingers clawing at your shirt.
It hurts. It hurts so bad.
It’s like every system in your body is collapsing, failing to cope with the ultimate rejection that comes in the scent of another woman. Your fist hits your chest, forcing the air to flow in because it suddenly feels almost impossible to breathe.
Heeseung feels it now—really, really feels it. The bond is thrashing, frantic, like it’s holding onto something that’s slipping through its grasp. The pained scent of withering daisies starts filling up the air, suffocating both alphas instantly. Jay shifts uncomfortably, looking back and forth from Heeseung to you in alert.
“Hey, hey—Y/N,” Heeseung tries again, softer this time, reaching out instinctively. “Look at me. Y/N—”
“Don’t!” Your voice spikes, sharp with fear. Heeseung freezes, his throat closing up when he sees something you’re yet to realise.
That’s when you feel it—something warm trickling down your nose. You instinctively wipe it and stare at the red liquid smearing your fingers.
Blood. Then another drop falls on your palm. Before you can react properly, it already spills down your chin, past your fingers, dripping onto the floor, tainting the white tiles like a crime scene.
“Fuck.” Jay curses under his breath, his wolf perking up in alarm.
Beside him, Heeseung is beyond agitated. “Y/N!”
He doesn’t think. Heeseung lunges forward, longing to be close to you at that moment. But you’re already shaking your head rapidly, tears spilling uncontrollably now.
“Stop!” you gasp, pale lips trembling like dying petals. “I can’t do this—I can’t—”
Inside you, your omega is screaming in pain. In betrayal. In self-preservation. Her voice, raw and jagged, torn by pain, echoes in your head.
An instinct, primal and desperate, takes over your being.
Cut it off.
Cut it off before it kills you.
You clutch at your chest, lungs burning up like a wildfire. Tears spill out freely, drenching your face in anguish and agony.
Cut it off!
And finally, you let go.
Across from you, just a few paces away, Heeseung feels it like a force, stopping him in his tracks.
It doesn’t come gradually, or slowly. It rips through his body. A violent, invisible force tearing straight through his chest like something sacred being forcibly severed. His breath is knocked out of him.
“Fuck!” Somewhere behind him, Jay is also spiraling, realising what’s going down.
But Heeseung doesn’t know. He staggers, his knees almost giving up as excruciating pain spreads from the scent gland in his neck down to his chest. Something inside him—something he never fully acknowledges—finally snaps. He almost screams.
A thick veil of tears wells up instantly, blurring his vision faster than he could process it.
“Y/N,” his voice breaks, the cracks showing up like poison in daggers. Across from him, you’re already sobbing.
It’s loud and raw, a wailing that stops even the loud music from inside. Your scent, bitter and beyond distressed, is now flooding the space like a broken dam. Your body folds in on itself as if trying to contain something that’s already shattered beyond repair.
Inside of you, your omega goes silent completely.
And it terrifies him. A lot.
Heeseung clutches his neck, where his scent gland is pulsing violently, throbbing in an indescribable pain that feels like it could kill him. And when his eyes find yours, he realises with dread that the pull is no longer there.
He can’t feel you. His wolf can’t feel your wolf.
The constant, aching thread that’s been tying him to you; it’s gone.
You cut the bond from your side.
The half-bond, already fragile with doubt and cowardice, is hanging by its loose thread. If it was a red string like many people had said, Heeseung’s sure it’d waver pathetically by his finger, trembling like a thread losing its kite.
“What…What did you do?” he whispers, voice hollow and shaky.
Heeseung takes a step forward again, ignoring Jay’s warning voice from behind him. His focus becomes singular on you, not minding the many pairs of eyes watching from the other side of the door.
This time, his step is slower and careful, like approaching something fragile. Something that is already broken.
Someone wounded.
You don’t move toward him. You don’t even spare him a look. You just cry, quietly, as now it feels empty where the bond used to be. You can’t feel him.
You can only feel pain.
“Y/N…”
“...I want to leave.”
You wipe your nose, the blood still fresh and wet. You lean on the door for support, still trying to hold yourself up despite the urge to just collapse. Heeseung has to force restraint on himself, holding himself back from running to you. He searches your face, trying to catch your eyes, terrified beyond reason.
The silence is deafening.
At last, you lift your gaze, misty eyes meeting misty eyes.
“I ended it.” Your voice, used to be soft and warm, is now cold. Heeseung feels his lungs stop functioning.
synopsis : living next door to lee heeseung has always been a nightmare loud, cocky, and impossible to ignore until one reckless night at a party leaves you waking up in his bed and running before it can mean anything you try to forget it ever happened, until two lines change everything, and suddenly the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.
pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader
trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity
word count : 19.6k
warnings : heeseung is a an absolute asshole, accidental pregnancy, alot panic and guilt, abortion / termination discussion, fear of the future, alcohol use, one night stand, dirty talking, cursing, foreplay, dry humping, oral, drunk sex ( consent is present ) , unprotected sex, mild degradation, hair pulling, creampie
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : omggg finallyy juno part one is out, hope you have an absolute amazing time when reading. navi did the proofreading for me ilysmm <3333
The bass from the apartment next door was so loud it made your pencil roll off the desk for the third time tonight thump thump thump. Each beat vibrated through the thin wall like it was personally trying to ruin your life.
You stared at the half finished notes in front of you, frustration bubbling hot in your chest. Midterms were in two weeks. Two weeks and Lee Heeseung, the campus golden boy, basketball captain, and your personal nightmare of a neighbor was throwing another one of his legendary parties like tomorrow didn’t exist.
This was the nth time. The nth damn time since you’d moved in six months ago. With a sharp exhale, you shoved your chair back and stormed out of your apartment, not even bothering to change out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. The hallway reeked of spilled beer and expensive cologne.
You could already hear the chaos before you even reached his door. Laughter, glasses clinking, some girl’s high pitched giggle cutting through the music.
You banged on the door harder than necessary. It took a few seconds before someone inside yelled over the noise, “Yoo Heeseung! Someone’s banging at your front door!”The door finally swung open.
Heeseung stood there in all his infuriating glory tall, broad shouldered, black hair slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His button up was half undone, revealing a silver chain that rested on his collarbones and a glimpse of toned chest. Behind him, the party pulsed with red solo cups, dim lights, and at least half the basketball team.
A pretty girl with long hair and a tight dress was pressed close to his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. He’d clearly been in the middle of charming her into his bed by the end of the night.
The second his dark eyes landed on you, that signature cocky smirk curved his lips.“Hi, miss morals,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, like he’d been waiting for this exact interruption.
You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Can you turn it down? The music is too loud.”
Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. The girl behind him shifted, clearly annoyed at the sudden attention shift, but Heeseung didn’t spare her a glance now.
“Miss morals strikes again,” he laughed, the sound rich and mocking. It sent an unwelcome spark of irritation down your spine. “What’s the problem this time, neighbor? Come to bless us with your righteous presence?”
“I’m serious, Heeseung,” you said, voice sharp as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. “Not everyone has the pleasure of partying all night. Others have to actually study to pass their exams whereas others can just have daddy pay for everything when they fuck up.”The words hung in the air between you.
Heeseung’s smirk faltered instantly. His jaw tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. For a split second, something raw annoyance, maybe even hurt flashed across his face before he quickly shoved it back into that indifferent mask. His eyes darkened, the playful glint gone.
“Whatever,” he muttered, voice suddenly flat and cold. “I’ll lower the volume.”He said, “Thank you,” you replied curtly, refusing to let the small victory show on your face even though your heart was hammering.
Heeseung didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped back and shut the door right in your face with a firm click that echoed down the empty hallway.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door, fists clenched at your sides. The music inside dropped almost immediately, not completely off, but low enough that you could finally breathe. Muffled laughter and voices still filtered through, but at least your walls wouldn’t shake anymore.
“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, turning on your heel and heading back to your apartment.As you closed your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, eyes closed. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? Why did one look from him always manage to crawl under your skin like this?
You shook your head, forcing the thoughts away. Back to studying. Back to pretending Lee Heeseung didn’t exist. But deep down, you already knew tonight’s silence between you two had just gotten a little louder.
You were halfway through rewriting your notes when your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a new message.
yunjin : you know sunghoon righttt? he’s throwing a massive party after midterms and he personally invited me. pleeease come with me?? i don’t wanna go alone 🥺
You stared at the text, already feeling the familiar dread settle in your stomach. Another party of course. You typed back quickly
you : No thanks im good have fun tho
The two dots appeared immediately.
yunjin : babe come onnnn
yunjin : it’s after midterms!! you deserve to relax
yunjin : sunghoon’s parties are actually fun i swear
yunjin : there’ll be good music, free drinks, and i heard the basketball team is coming too 👀
You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near the basketball team especially not after tonight’s lovely encounter with their captain.
you : exactly why I’m not going pass
yunjin : please please please i really like sunghoon and this could be my chance
yunjin : i’ll owe you big time i’ll even help you study for the next round of exams i’ll buy you that expensive matcha you like for a month!!
You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Yunjin was relentless when she wanted something. And honestly she had been there for you through every late night breakdown this semester. Saying no felt a little cruel the pleading texts kept coming
yunjin : i won’t leave your side the whole night ( she is lying )
yunjin : we can leave early if you hate it , pretty please with cherries on top?? 🥺🍒
You sighed deeply, already knowing you were about to lose this battle.
you : fine, ONE HOUR that’s it if it sucks, we’re out.
yunjin : YESSSSS!!! you’re the best i love you so much
yunjin : we can dress up together at my place okay , see you tomorrow <33
You tossed your phone onto the desk and dropped your head into your hands. Great, just what you needed. Another night surrounded by loud music, drunk athletes, and the very real possibility of running into the Lee Heeseung again.
You glanced at the wall that separated your apartment from his. The music was still playing faintly, but at least it was bearable now. Just one party, you could survive one party right?
The next morning, the art history lecture hall was already filling up with the usual mix of sleepy students and last minute crammers when you slipped into your regular seat in the middle row.
The faint scent of fresh coffee and old books lingered in the air. Yunjin dropped dramatically into the chair on your right, her long hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, eyes bright with far too much excitement for a 9 am class.
On your left, Soobin settled in quietly, tall frame folding gracefully into the seat. He placed his neatly organized notebook on the desk and pulled out a perfectly sharpened pencil, offering you a soft, reassuring smile.
Soobin was always like this calm, steady, the kind of friend who showed up without making a fuss. He was the complete opposite of the loud, chaotic energy that seemed to follow Heeseung everywhere.
Yunjin, however, was already completely distracted. She was leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, openly staring toward the front rows where Sunghoon sat chatting with a couple of friends. Her gaze was soft and dreamy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips every time he laughed at something.
You nudged her arm with your elbow, voice low and teasing. “You’re oogling him again it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”Yunjin didn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’m not oogling, im appreciating art,” she whispered back, still not tearing her eyes away. “Look at him he’s literally perfect.”
Soobin let out a quiet chuckle beside you, shaking his head as he flipped open his notebook. “Sure ‘appreciating’ that’s why half your notes from last week were just little hearts around his name.” He teased her, to which she replied,
“Traitor,” Yunjin hissed playfully, finally glancing at both of you as her cheeks flushed pink. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”The light banter continued until Soobin turned to you, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, I heard there was a party at Heeseung’s last night, did you survive the noise?”
You let out a long, dramatic groan and slumped back in your seat, the memory of last night’s confrontation still fresh and irritating. “Barely. That idiot had the music blasting so loud my textbooks were literally vibrating on the desk. I had to march over there in my hoodie and sweatpants like some angry neighbor from a sitcom again.”
Soobin listened attentively, his expression patient and sympathetic. He never interrupted your rants or told you to just ignore it. He just nodded along, dark eyes focused on you, making you feel genuinely heard.
It was one of the many reasons you treasured his friendship he was thoughtful, kind, and never loud or arrogant for the sake of it. The polar opposite of Heeseung.
“And of course he answered the door half dressed with some girl hanging off his arm like a trophy,” you continued, voice dripping with annoyance. “Called me ‘miss morals’ like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
Then when I pointed out that not everyone has a rich daddy to bail them out when they party instead of studying, he got all pissy, sucked in this dramatic breath, and slammed the door right in my face. He’s such an entitled asshole.”
Soobin hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow. “That sounds exhausting, you should’ve texted me you know, i could’ve come over with snacks and we could’ve studied together instead of dealing with his nonsense alone.”
You smiled faintly at the offer, warmth cutting through the irritation. “Next time, maybe at least someone in this building has basic human decency.”
Yunjin finally tore her gaze away from Sunghoon long enough to grin at you. “Heeseung’s just bored and likes getting a rise out of you if you stopped reacting, he’d probably get bored and stop.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to live next door to the human equivalent of a walking migraine.”The professor walked in moments later, cutting off any further complaints.
The next hour passed in a blur of projected slides on Renaissance techniques, quiet note taking, and the occasional whispered comment from Yunjin whenever Sunghoon shifted in his seat.
When class finally ended, the three of you packed up your things and joined the stream of students flowing out into the crowded hallway. The air was filled with chatter about upcoming midterms, weekend plans, and the usual campus gossip.
As you walked side by side, Yunjin suddenly looped her arm through yours, her excitement bubbling over again. “So, about Sunghoon’s party after midterms you’re definitely coming, right? And Soobin you should come too! It’ll be so much more fun with all three of us there.”
Soobin blinked, surprised, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Wait you’re actually going?” He looked at you, genuinely shocked. “I thought you hated parties, especially ones thrown by the popular crowd.”
You shrugged, already regretting your decision a little. “Yunjin begged a lot and guilt tripped me with matcha promises. One hour max, if it sucks, I’m dragging her out.”
Yunjin squealed happily and squeezed your arm. “See? She’s coming! So you have to come too, Soobinn please?”Before Soobin could respond, a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise from behind you.
“Can’t imagine miss morals at a party but I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Your stomach dropped, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against a set of lockers a few feet away, arms crossed over his varsity jacket, that signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. He must have overheard the entire conversation.
His dark eyes locked onto yours with clear amusement, like he lived for these moments of catching you off guard.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Heat crept up your neck partly from annoyance, partly from the embarrassment of him hearing your plans.
Yunjin stifled a laugh beside you while Soobin just shook his head quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth.
Heeseung’s low chuckle followed you as the three of you kept walking, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. God, you really, really hated that guy.Midterms week stretched into a brutal two week marathon, and as an art curator major, you felt every single hour of it in your bones.
Your apartment had become a war zone of curated chaos towering stacks of books on museum exhibition design, printed slides from Art Conservation and Curatorial Practices, mood boards pinned to the wall for your upcoming gallery proposal project, and color coded flashcards scattered across every surface.
Late nights blurred into early mornings as you hunched over your laptop, drafting proposals for hypothetical exhibits while trying to memorize the intricate history of 19th century European collections. Sleep was a distant dream. Caffeine was your only reliable companion.
And then there was Heeseung.
He didn’t blast music or bring girls over every single night that would have been almost predictable. No, he was crueler than that. He chose random days, like he knew exactly how to keep you off balance, turning your already exhausting study schedule into a minefield of unwanted interruptions.
The first time hit on the second night of midterms. You were deep into analyzing a case study on museum ethics when the wall behind your desk started to vibrate faintly. At first it was just low music.
Then came the giggles two distinct female voices, breathy and flirtatious. Heeseung’s deep laugh cut through it all, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies moving against furniture.
“Fuck, Heeseung you’re so good at this,” one of the girls moaned loudly, the words carrying crystal clear through the thin shared wall. The headboard started thumping a slow, steady rhythm against your wall rhythmic, insistent, growing faster.
You could hear the wet slap of skin, her exaggerated gasps turning into full throated cries every time he thrust.You yanked your noise canceling headphones on so hard the band dug into your temples, cranking the volume until classical music drowned most of it out.
But you could still feel it, the steady bang bang bang vibrating through your desk, through your chair, through your skull. Your cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment and pure rage.
'Of course he’s fucking some random girl while I’m trying to memorize the difference between Baroque and Rococo curation techniques.' You thought bitterly, stabbing your highlighter across the page. Must be nice to have zero responsibilities except basketball and dick appointments.
It stopped around 2 a.m., but the damage was done. You only managed three hours of sleep before your 8 a.m. lecture.
The next morning, you were running on pure spite and too much coffee when you caught Heeseung in the hallway just as he was stepping out of his apartment. He looked annoyingly fresh — hair still damp from a shower, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, that perpetual cocky smirk already in place.
You stopped right in front of him, arms crossed tightly. “Keep it down next time,” you said flatly, voice low but sharp. “Some of us are actually trying to pass our midterms instead of auditioning for porn.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aw, miss morals heard everything? Didn’t know you were such a light sleeper.” You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Just tone it down, the headboard banging is ridiculous.”
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending another spike of irritation through you. “Noted.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Though from the sounds of it last night, she seemed to enjoy the banging.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away without another word, his soft laugh following you down the hall.The next disruption came four days later. A random Thursday when you had a massive group project due on modern curatorial strategies.
You’d just settled in with your laptop open to a half finished exhibition proposal when his door slammed open down the hall. One girl this time, but she was even louder.
The moment they got inside, the sounds started again her high pitched whimpers, Heeseung’s low, cocky murmurs “Yeah? You like that? Tell me how much you want it” followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of them going at it on what sounded like his couch first, then migrating to the bed.
The headboard slammed against the wall so hard your framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night rattled. Her moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, each one punctuated by Heeseung’s grunts and the filthy slap of bodies. “Harder fuck, right there, Heeseung don’t stop—”
You ended up studying in your bed instead, laptop balanced on your knees, pillows stacked around you like a fortress. Headphones on full blast. Still, every thrust made the wall tremble.
Every moan crawled under your skin and made focusing on your notes feel impossible. By the time they finally finished (or at least quieted down) around midnight, your eyes were burning and your proposal was only half done.
You hated how your body reacted sometimes not with attraction, but with pure, simmering resentment that made your stomach twist.That same night, after the noises finally stopped, you grabbed your phone in a fit of exhausted anger and texted him.
you : keep the noise down, some people are trying to study for actual grades, not coast on basketball talent and daddy’s money
His reply came faster than you expected. A picture popped up first. A close up selfie of Heeseung lying in bed, shirtless, messy hair, lazy smirk on his face, with the caption
heeseung : sorry, miss morals hard to stay quiet when they scream my name like that
heeseung : next time i’ll try to fuck quieter or maybe you can just join and tell me how to do it right?
You stared at the message, face flaming with a mix of rage and disbelief. You immediately blocked the image from your mind ( and definitely did not linger on the way his abs looked in the dim lighting ) before typing back a single furious reply
you : delete my number, asshole
The worst random night came during the final stretch, just three days before your last exams.
You were pulling an all nighter on your capstone project a full digital mock up of a contemporary art exhibit you’d spent weeks perfecting when the noises started again around 11 p.m. This time it was two girls.
Their laughter spilled into the hallway first, then straight through your wall. Heeseung’s voice was low and teasing, the kind of filthy charm that probably worked on every girl on campus.
Soon the bed was creaking loudly, headboard banging in a frantic rhythm while both girls moaned in tandem one breathy and high, the other deeper and more desperate.
“Heeseung oh god, yes fuck me like that—” mixed with wet, obscene sounds that left zero doubt about exactly what was happening next door. The wall vibrated so intensely your coffee mug slid an inch across the desk.
You sat there in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, staring at your glowing screen, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every moan, every dirty encouragement from Heeseung, every rhythmic thud felt like a personal attack on the one thing you actually cared about your future.
Your grades, your dream of curating real exhibitions someday. While I’m over here trying not to fail out of the only thing I’m good at, you thought, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard, he’s over there living his best life with a rotating cast of girls screaming his name.
You wore the headphones until your ears rang. You even tried white noise apps, earplugs underneath nothing fully blocked it. The sex noises went on for nearly two hours that night, loud and shameless, until they finally quieted around 1:30 a.m.
By the end of the two weeks, you were running on fumes dark circles under your eyes, caffeine shakes in your hands, and a permanent knot of irritation lodged in your chest whenever you passed his door.
The random nights had been spaced out just enough to feel like psychological warfare instead of constant chaos.Heeseung never once toned it down. Never once seemed to care that someone on the other side of the wall was actually trying to build a future that didn’t involve daddy’s money or NBA scouts.
When Friday morning finally arrived and your last exam was over, you dragged yourself back to the apartment building, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The hallway was quiet for once. Heeseung’s door looked innocently closed.
You unlocked your own door, stepped inside, and immediately collapsed face first onto your bed, still in your clothes midterms were done.But the resentment toward the boy next door had only grown sharper and Sunghoon’s party was tonight. You groaned into your pillow one hour in and out. Just don’t kill Heeseung on sight.
You took the quickest shower of your life, and changed into the first comfortable outfit you could find—a simple black crop top that showed just a sliver of your midriff and your favorite pair of dark jeans—comfortable, practical, safe.
You texted Yunjin that you were ready to head over to her place to “get ready together,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of your clothes—big mistake. Yunjin’s apartment was only two blocks away, and the second you stepped inside, she took one look at you and gasped like you had personally offended her.
“No no absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips, eyes scanning you up and down with pure horror. “You cannot go to Sunghoon’s party looking like that.”
You glanced down at yourself, confused. “What’s wrong with this? It’s cute it’s comfortable.”“Cute? Comfortable?” Yunjin repeated, already dragging you toward her bedroom like a woman on a mission.
“Babe, we’re going to a party, not the library. You just survived two weeks of hell tonight you’re supposed to look hot, not like you’re about to give a museum tour.”
Before you could protest, she flung open her closet and started pulling out clothes with frightening speed. She held up a black mini skirt dangerously short, made of soft leather like material and a sheer black button up shirt that was practically see through.
“Try these,” she ordered, shoving the hanger into your hands. You stared at the outfit like it might bite you. “Yunjin, no way, that skirt is barely legal and the shirt is see through i’m not wearing that.”
“Yes way, you are,” she sang, already pushing you toward the bathroom. “You agreed to come to the party that means you’re under my styling jurisdiction for tonight go change now”
You argued the entire time you were changing. “This is ridiculous! im going to freeze, people are going to stare i look like I’m trying way too hard—”
But Yunjin was relentless. The second you stepped out in the mini skirt and sheer shirt ( with a black bralette underneath so you weren’t completely exposed ), she clapped her hands and squealed.
“Oh my god, yes! Look at you!” She spun you around in front of her full length mirror. The skirt hugged your hips and ended high on your thighs, making your legs look longer.
The sheer shirt draped softly over your shoulders, the black bralette visible underneath in a way that was teasing but not outright scandalous. “You look insane like, dangerously hot.”
You tugged at the hem of the skirt, cheeks burning. “I feel naked. Can't I at least wear the jeans over this or something?”“No,” she said firmly, already sitting you down in front of her vanity. “We’re doing makeup now sit still.”
For the next twenty minutes, Yunjin worked her magic. Winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, soft smoky eyes, a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones, and a bold red lip that made your mouth look fuller. She even styled your hair into loose, effortless waves that framed your face perfectly.
When she finally stepped back, she let out a satisfied sigh.“Anyone would worship the ground you walk on looking like this,” she said, grinning proudly. “Trust me tonight, you’re not the stressed out art curator girl who yells at her neighbor. You’re the girl who turns heads even Heeseung won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
You rolled your eyes, but a small flutter of nerves mixed with reluctant confidence settled in your stomach as you looked at your reflection. The outfit was way bolder than anything you’d normally wear, but you had to admit it looked good.
“Fine,” you muttered, smoothing down the skirt one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re leaving early and if Heeseung says one word about ‘miss morals’ in this outfit, I’m pouring a drink on him.”Yunjin laughed and linked her arm with yours. “Deal now let’s go make Sunghoon’s party unforgettable.”
You and Yunjin barely made it out of her apartment before your phone buzzed with a text from Soobin saying he was already waiting downstairs. The three of you had agreed he would drive so none of you had to worry about getting home later.
The elevator ride down felt too short. Your heart was already beating a little faster than usual partly from the unfamiliar outfit, partly from the knowledge that you were actually going to a party after surviving two brutal weeks of midterms.
The black mini skirt kept riding up slightly with every step, and you kept tugging nervously at the hem while Yunjin wouldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked.
When you stepped out of the building into the cool evening air, Soobin’s car was parked right in front, engine idling. He was leaning casually against the driver’s side, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up and saw the two of you approaching, his eyes widened noticeably.
Especially when they landed on you. Soobin froze for a second, his usual calm expression cracking into pure, genuine shock. His gaze traveled slowly from your loose waves and sharp winged eyeliner, down to the sheer black shirt that subtly revealed the black bralette underneath, then to the dangerously short leather like mini skirt that made your legs look endless.
He blinked once, twice, before quickly clearing his throat and straightening up, ears turning a light shade of pink.“Wow” he said, voice a little higher than his normal soft tone. “You both look really nice like, really nice.”
Yunjin grinned triumphantly, looping her arm through yours and squeezing. “See? Told you! Even Soobin is shook, she looks hot, right?”
You felt heat creep up your neck and quickly crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how different you looked from your usual oversized hoodie and jeans self.
“It’s all Yunjin’s doing. She basically held me hostage in her room until I changed. I tried to wear my normal clothes and she acted like I committed a crime.”
Soobin gave a small, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the back door for both of you like the gentleman he was. “No, it really suits you, you look great tonight.” His compliment was sincere and gentle, making the awkwardness feel a little softer. “Ready to go? Sunghoon’s place isn’t too far from here.”
The car ride was filled with easy, light chatter that helped calm your nerves. Yunjin sat in the front passenger seat, already buzzing with excitement about seeing Sunghoon, while you sat in the back, occasionally tugging at your skirt and staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Soobin kept the conversation flowing comfortably, light complaints about how brutal midterms had been, predictions about how wild the party might get, and Yunjin’s endless teasing about how
Sunghoon had “personally invited” her. Every now and then Soobin would glance at you through the rearview mirror, still looking a little flustered whenever your eyes met.
Before you knew it, Soobin was pulling up to a large off campus house that was already pulsing with loud music and flashing colored lights. Cars lined both sides of the street, and groups of people were laughing and chatting on the front lawn, red cups in hand.
The three of you climbed out of the car, and the heavy bass from inside immediately hit you like a wave. The night air smelled like a mix of cheap beer, sweet perfume, and fresh cut grass. Yunjin practically bounced on her heels with excitement as the three of you walked up the pathway toward the front door.
Sunghoon was standing right at the entrance, playing the perfect host in a simple black shirt and jeans. His sharp, handsome features broke into a warm, genuine smile the moment he spotted your group approaching.
“Hey! You guys actually made it,” he greeted cheerfully, voice carrying easily over the noise from inside. His eyes lingered on Yunjin for an extra beat, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yunjin, glad you came and you brought friends, nice.”
He gave Soobin a friendly nod and then turned his attention to you, eyebrows raising slightly in pleasant surprise as he took in your bold outfit. “Hey! you clean up really well. Welcome to the party, hope you guys have fun tonight.”
You managed a small, polite smile, still feeling slightly out of your element. “Thanks for inviting us.”Sunghoon handed each of you a red solo cup filled with something fruity and strong smelling a sweet cocktail that had a sharp kick of alcohol when you took your first cautious sip.
“Drinks are flowing inside help yourselves to whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, beer pong in the living room, and dancing. Pretty much everywhere enjoy!”
Yunjin thanked him brightly, her cheeks already a little flushed with excitement, and steered you and Soobin further into the crowded house. The interior was packed wall to wall with people.
Students were laughing loudly, dancing in the middle of the living room, playing intense games of beer pong, and making out in dimly lit corners. The music was loud but not yet overwhelming, colorful lights flashing across the walls and bodies.
For the first few minutes, the three of you stuck close together, weaving through the crowd while sipping your drinks. Soobin stayed protectively near your side, occasionally leaning down to say something quiet and reassuring whenever he noticed you looking a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.
Then you felt it. That familiar, annoying prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You turned your head slightly, and there he was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He was surrounded by a small group of his closest friends—Beomgyu laughing at something on his phone, Jake with his usual bright smile, and Jay nursing his own drink while scanning the room.
Heeseung looked effortlessly good tonight in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips. His hair was styled in that signature messy but perfect way.
The moment his dark eyes found you across the crowded room, his conversation with the guys stopped mid sentence.
His gaze dragged slowly and shamelessly down your body, taking in the short black mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs, the sheer shirt that teased the black bralette underneath, the way the outfit accentuated your curves before snapping back up to your face.
For once, his usual cocky smirk didn’t appear instantly. Instead, there was a flash of genuine surprise, followed by something darker, more heated, and appreciative.
He pushed off the wall and started walking straight toward your group, completely ignoring whatever Beomgyu was saying behind him.
“Well, well, well,” Heeseung drawled when he was close enough, his voice cutting smoothly through the music. His eyes were still shamelessly roaming over you. “Look who decided to show up. Miss morals in a mini skirt i almost didn’t recognize you damn.”
You felt your stomach twist with that familiar mix of irritation and unwanted warmth. Before you could even open your mouth to snap back, Yunjin jumped in defensively, stepping slightly in front of you with a bright but sharp smile.
“Excuse me, Heeseung? She looks amazing, and she doesn’t need your backhanded compliments,” Yunjin said, tilting her head with fake sweetness.
“Unlike some people who only know how to throw loud parties and bring random girls over during midterms, maybe focus on your own game instead of commenting on her outfit.”
Heeseung chuckled lowly, clearly amused by Yunjin’s quick defense, but his eyes never left you. Jake, Beomgyu, and Jay were now watching the exchange from a few feet away, Beomgyu smirking like he was enjoying the show and Jake looking mildly entertained.
“Relax, Yunjin,” Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m just saying that she cleaned up dangerous tonight, didn’t think our neighbor owned anything shorter than ankle length. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay back me up here. She looks good, right?”
Beomgyu grinned and raised his cup in a lazy toast. “Yeah, she do be looking fire tonight.”Jake nodded with a bright laugh. “For real, new look suits you.”Jay just shook his head with a small smile, staying quiet but clearly entertained.
You rolled your eyes, lifting your red solo cup to your lips to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t start with me tonight, Heeseung i’m only here for one hour, and I’d rather not spend it dealing with your nonsense.”
Heeseung tilted his head, that signature cocky smirk fully back in place now as he took another slow step closer. The way he was looking at you made the noisy room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
“Gonna dance tonight, or are you just here to supervise everyone else’s fun like usual, miss morals?”
You didn’t even give Heeseung the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, you flipped him off with a sharp middle finger, turned on your heel, and grabbed Yunjin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
Yunjin laughed loudly, clearly proud of your reaction, and let you drag her deeper into the crowded house while Heeseung’s low chuckle followed behind you. Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay were already teasing him in the background, but you refused to look back.
For the first half hour, the party actually felt manageable. You stuck close to Yunjin and Soobin, sipping from your red solo cup and people watching from a quieter corner of the living room.
The music was loud, the lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, and the alcohol slowly started to loosen the tight knot of stress that midterms had left in your chest. Then Sunghoon appeared again.
He approached your group with that easy, charming smile, eyes mostly locked on Yunjin. “Hey want to dance?”Yunjin’s face lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. She turned to you quickly, squeezing your hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit, right? I’ll be right back!”
Before you could even answer, she was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor with Sunghoon’s hand on her waist, now it was just you and Soobin.
You tried to keep the conversation light, but the longer you stood there, the more the party energy started to pull at you. The drink in your cup was strong and sweet, and after two weeks of pure academic hell, the idea of letting loose felt dangerously tempting.
“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath. You downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn sliding warmly down your throat. Then you grabbed another cup from a passing tray and started sipping again. Why not? Midterms were over. You deserved this.
Soobin noticed and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t judge. He stayed beside you, chatting quietly, making sure you weren’t completely alone. But after a while, you started feeling guilty. He was sweet, always listening, always there and here he was babysitting you instead of enjoying the party.
“Go talk to your friends,” you told him, giving him a gentle push toward a group of guys waving at him from across the room. “Seriously, Soobin i’ll be fine, i don’t want you wasting your night stuck with me. Go have fun i’ll text you if I need anything.”
He hesitated, looking concerned, but you begged him with your best pleading eyes until he finally nodded. “Okay but stay safe, text me if anything feels off.”
Once Soobin walked away to join his friends, you let yourself drift toward the dance floor. The alcohol was hitting nicely now a warm, fuzzy buzz that made the music feel better and your body lighter.
You moved to the edge of the crowd first, swaying gently, then slowly worked your way deeper into the pulsing bodies.
You didn’t notice him at first. But Heeseung had been watching you the entire time. From the moment Yunjin disappeared with Sunghoon, his eyes had followed you. He watched you down your drinks. He watched you convince Soobin to leave.
And now he watched as you finally stepped fully onto the dance floor, hips moving to the heavy beat, the short black mini skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, the sheer shirt catching the flashing lights.
Heeseung set his cup down and started moving through the crowd toward you, slow and deliberate. When he was close enough, he didn’t just grab you like most guys would. Instead, he leaned in slightly, voice low and surprisingly respectful against the loud music.
“Hey can I dance with you?”
You turned your head, alcohol making you bold. Your eyes met his, and for once, you didn’t immediately snap at him. The buzz in your veins, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t look away…it made something reckless spark inside you.
You nodded “Yeah okay.” Only then did Heeseung step closer. The moment he did, the space between you disappeared. His body pressed lightly against yours at first, hands hovering respectfully before you started moving together.
The music was sensual, slow and heavy, and your bodies naturally fell into rhythm. It didn’t stay innocent for long. Heeseung’s hands gradually grew bolder one sliding to your waist, the other brushing up your side, fingers grazing the sheer fabric of your shirt.
You moved closer, hips rolling against his, the short skirt brushing against his thighs. His touch grew hotter, palms sliding down to grip your hips, then slowly roaming over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him.
The air between you thickened. Your breathing grew heavier. Every brush of his body sent sparks through your skin. Heeseung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low. “fuck, not being able to kiss you right now is actual torture.”
The words hit you like a shot of pure heat. The alcohol, the weeks of built up tension, the way his hands felt all over your body everything crashed together in one reckless moment.
You didn’t think, you just acted. turning your head as you grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed your lips against his.
The kiss was messy, desperate, and instantly wild. Heeseung groaned into your mouth the second your lips met, one hand flying up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightened possessively on your waist, pulling you even harder against him.
You kissed like you were angry at each other—teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and deep, lips moving with raw hunger.
Heeseung kissed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His mouth was demanding, devouring, tilting your head to kiss you deeper. You moaned softly against him, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, which only made him kiss you harder.
The dance floor disappeared around you. The music faded into background noise. There was only the heat of his body, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and the way his hands roamed greedily over your curves sliding up your back under the sheer shirt, gripping your hips, pressing you so close you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.
The makeout was crazy sloppy, passionate, breathless. You bit his lower lip, and he responded with a low growl, sucking on your tongue before kissing you even harder.
Your bodies moved together to the beat, grinding slowly while your mouths stayed locked in a heated battle.
When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting, lips swollen and shiny. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.
“Shit” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”The kiss finally broke, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening under the flashing party lights.
Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown with want, and the way he looked at you sent another rush of heat straight through your body.
You didn’t think. The alcohol, the weeks of hating him, the way his hands had felt all over you everything made you reckless. You leaned in closer, voice low and breathless against his ear. “Wanna go back to your apartment?”
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a dangerous smirk tugging at his swollen lips. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly melted into pure hunger.
“Fuck yes”
He didn’t waste another second. His hand slid down to grab yours firmly, fingers lacing tight as he started pulling you through the crowded dance floor. People moved out of the way as Heeseung cut a path toward the front door, his grip on you possessive and urgent.
You barely had time to register anything else Yunjin and Soobin were somewhere in the house, but right now, none of that mattered.The cool night air hit your flushed skin the moment you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in your veins.
Heeseung’s car was parked a little down the street. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and the second you reached the passenger side, he opened the door for you with surprising speed before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
The moment the doors closed, the tension exploded again. Heeseung started the engine, but you were already growing impatient. The short drive back to your apartment building felt too long. Every red light, every stop sign made the ache between your legs worse.
You kept stealing glances at him his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his shirt was slightly undone from your earlier tugging. At the third red light, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Fuck this,” you muttered.
Before Heeseung could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled his lap in one swift motion. The mini skirt rode up high on your thighs as you settled on top of him, your hands immediately cupping his face as you crashed your lips back onto his.
Heeseung groaned loudly into the kiss, his hands flying to your waist to steady you. The kiss was even wilder than on the dance floor desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth. You rocked your hips against him, grinding down slowly at first, then harder, feeling him harden beneath you through his jeans.
His hands roamed greedily, one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast over the bralette, the other gripping your ass and pulling you tighter against his growing bulge.
“Shit you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your mouth between kisses, voice rough and wrecked.
You moaned softly, grinding down harder, the friction sending sparks through your entire body. The car windows started to fog up as you moved together, lips never leaving each other for long.
Heeseung’s tongue slid against yours, deep and filthy, while his hips bucked up to meet your movements, the steering wheel pressing into your back.
You were completely lost in him hands in his hair, tugging, lips sucking on his bottom lip, hips rolling in desperate circles when the sharp sound of honking suddenly pierced through the haze.
Once, twice, then a chorus of angry car horns blaring behind you reality crashed back in.
You pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen, breathing ragged. The light had turned green, and the cars lined up behind you were laying on their horns, some drivers shouting out their windows.
Heeseung let out a breathless laugh, his hands still gripping your thighs tightly. His eyes were dark, hair messy from your fingers, lips red and kiss bitten.“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna cause an accident if you keep this up.”
You quickly scrambled back into the passenger seat, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal.
Your skirt was hiked up dangerously high, and you tugged it down with shaky hands while Heeseung adjusted himself in his seat, clearly struggling to focus on the road.
He shot you a heated sideways glance, smirk returning as he pressed the gas pedal.“Almost home,” he said, voice low and promising. “Try not to jump me again until we’re inside or don’t. I'm not complaining.”
The rest of the short drive was torturous. The air in the car was thick with tension, both of you stealing glances, the memory of your grinding still fresh and electric.
When Heeseung finally pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment building, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes blazing.
The second you were both out of the car, he grabbed your hand again and practically dragged you toward the entrance, the promise of what was about to happen hanging heavy between you.
The second the door to Heeseung’s apartment slammed shut behind you, all restraint vanished.He had you pinned against the wood before you could even catch your breath, mouth crashing back onto yours in a filthy, open mouthed kiss.
His hands were everywhere one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast roughly, the other gripping your ass and yanking your hips flush against the hard line of his cock already straining in his jeans.
“Been thinking about this since you walked in wearing that tiny fucking skirt,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. “Look at you acting like such a good girl all semester and now you’re begging to get fucked in my bed.”
You didn’t deny it you couldn’t. The alcohol and weeks of pent up hatred had turned into pure, desperate need. You tugged at his shirt buttons, popping a few open in your haste, and Heeseung chuckled darkly before ripping the rest off himself.
The shirt hit the floor. Yours followed a second later, then your bralette, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of his apartment.
Heeseung’s mouth was on your neck instantly, sucking a mark right below your jaw while his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were hard and aching. “So fucking pretty when you’re needy like this,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh?”
You whimpered when he shoved the mini skirt up around your waist and cupped you over your panties. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
“Shit you are dripping already.” He smirked against your throat. “Such a dirty little secret you’ve been hiding, miss morals.”
You didn’t have time to snap back. Heeseung dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, hooked your panties to the side, and buried his face between your thighs without warning. His tongue dragged a long, nasty stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you.
“Oh my god—” Your head thunked back against the door as he licked and sucked like a man starved, two fingers sliding inside you easily because you were so wet.
He curled them perfectly, pumping fast while his tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit. The sounds were obscene wet, sloppy, loud and he didn’t care. He ate you like he wanted to ruin you.
You came hard on his tongue within minutes, thighs shaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you cried out his name. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were trembling and pushing at his head, then he stood up, lips shiny with your arousal, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself.
“Bedroom now,” he ordered.
He didn’t wait for you to walk. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the short hallway while your legs wrapped around his waist.
Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, panties shoved to the side. You could feel his cock pressing against your soaked core with every step.
The second he kicked his bedroom door open, he dropped you onto the bed. You barely had time to bounce before he was stripping the rest of his clothes off. His jeans and boxers hit the floor and his cock sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.
Your mouth watered at the sight. Heeseung climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. “You want this?” he asked, voice dark, one hand stroking his cock slowly as he looked down at you. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. “Fuck me, Heeseung.”That was all it took.
He shoved your legs apart wider, lined himself up, and pushed in with one long, brutal thrust. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “Taking me so well already.”Then he started moving hard fast and filthy.
The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, the same wall that separated your apartments. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Heeseung fucked you like he’d been imagining this exact moment for months.Deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch.
He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.
“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. “Taking every inch like a good little slut, who would’ve thought the girl next door gets this fucking nasty?”
The degradation was light, just enough to make your pussy clench harder around him. You moaned louder, hips trying to meet his thrusts.
Heeseung’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you.
“Come on, baby. Come on my cock again, wanna feel you squeezing me.” You shattered for the second time, back arching, walls fluttering around his thick length as your orgasm crashed through you. Heeseung fucked you through it, hips never slowing, chasing his own release.
“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, voice strained. “Where do you want it?” He asked, “Inside,” you gasped, still riding the high. “Come inside me.”
Heeseung cursed loudly, thrusting a few more brutal times before he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he groaned your name against your neck, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a moment the only sounds were both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.
Heeseung stayed inside you for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, before he finally pulled out slowly. A trickle of his cum leaked out of you onto the sheets, and he watched it with dark, satisfied eyes then collapsed beside you.
Instead of pulling away, Heeseung immediately reached for you. He wrapped one strong arm around your waist and tugged you against his chest, your back flush to his front in a tight, warm hug. His other hand gently pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning your naked bodies in soft warmth.
You were still sticky with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, but the way he held you possessive yet surprisingly gentle made something soft flutter in your chest despite everything.
Heeseung pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.“Stay,” he murmured, voice already thick with sleep as he tightened his arm around you. “Just stay.”
Exhausted, fucked out, and strangely comforted by his warmth, you let your eyes drift shut. His steady heartbeat against your back and the heavy duvet wrapped around you lulled you quickly into sleep, safe in Heeseung’s arms for the night.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. next morning !
The first thing you registered was the pounding in your head. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through unfamiliar curtains making everything feel hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red 4:28 a.m.
Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your temples the unmistakable aftermath of too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep. You shifted slightly under the heavy duvet, and that’s when you felt it.
A warm, solid body pressed against your back. An arm draped heavily over your waist, holding you close skin against skin. The faint scent of cologne, sweat, and something distinctly masculine filled your senses.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Memories from last night crashed over you like ice water.
The party, the red solo cup dancing. Heeseung’s hands all over your body on the dance floor. The reckless invitation. The car ride where you’d climbed into his lap like you had no shame.
The way he’d pinned you against his door, dropped to his knees in the entryway, fucked you hard on his bed until you were crying out his name. The filthy sounds. The way he’d filled you up. The way he’d pulled you against his chest afterward, hugging you tight under the duvet as you both drifted off.
You had fucked Lee Heeseung
You had fucked your loud, cocky, insufferable neighbor the basketball captain you’d spent months complaining about, the one who called you “Miss Morals” like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Mortification burned hot through your entire body. Your stomach twisted violently. What the hell had you been thinking? The alcohol had stripped away every ounce of common sense, and now you were lying naked in his bed, his cum still faintly sticky between your thighs, his arm wrapped around you like you belonged there.
Heeseung was still sound asleep behind you, breathing deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His face was relaxed in sleep no smirk, no cocky grin but you knew the second he woke up, everything would change.
He would never let you live this down. The teasing would be relentless. “Miss morals” would turn into something far worse. He’d smirk every time he saw you in the hallway, make dirty little comments about how loud you’d been, how desperate you’d sounded begging for him.
The walls between your apartments were thin he’d probably bring it up every time you complained about his noise again. Your life next door would become a living hell.You couldn’t stay here.
Panic clawed up your throat. You had to leave before he woke up. Before this became real. Before he opened his eyes and looked at you with that knowing, satisfied smirk.
Carefully, so carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent under his breath. Your heart hammered as you slowly slid out from under the duvet, the cool air hitting your naked skin and raising goosebumps.
You moved like a ghost around his room, gathering your scattered clothes as quietly as possible. Your sheer black shirt, the black bralette, the dangerously short mini skirt, your panties all crumpled on the floor where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment.
You dressed as fast as you could, fingers trembling as you buttoned the sheer shirt and tugged the mini skirt down your thighs. Your hair was a mess, makeup probably smudged, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out.
Barefoot, shoes in hand, you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. You glanced back once at Heeseung still asleep, one arm now stretched across the empty space where you’d been, dark hair messy against the pillow.
A strange, unwelcome pang twisted in your chest, but you shoved it down hard. This never happened.
You slipped out of his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The living room was dark and silent. You navigated through the unfamiliar space, heart racing, until you reached the front door. The lock clicked softly as you turned it.
The hallway was empty and dimly lit when you stepped outside. The cool air felt like freedom. You didn’t even bother putting your shoes on yet you just hurried the few steps to your own apartment door next door, fumbling with your keys until they finally slid into the lock.
The moment you were inside, you locked the door behind you, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.
Your body still ached in the best and worst ways. Thighs sore, a faint bruise forming on your hip from his grip, the ghost of his touch lingering everywhere. You could still feel him inside you, still taste the heat of his mouth.
You buried your face in your hands, mortified beyond words. What had you done?You had slept with the one person you couldn’t stand and now you had to live right next door to him, pretending it never happened.
Because if Heeseung ever found out you’d run away like this, the teasing would only get worse much, much worse. You spent the rest of that early morning in a haze of denial.
Your phone vibrated then again. You reached for it with a heavy sigh, squinting at the bright screen.
yunjin ( 3 new messages )
yunjin : babe where did u go?? one second u were dancing and then u disappeared 😭
yunjin : sunghoon said he saw u leave with someone?? pls tell me ur okay
yunjin : im worried call me when u wake up!!
soobin ( 4 new messages )
soobin : hey, you okay? you left pretty suddenly last night without telling both of us yunjin’s freaking out a bit
soobin : let me know if you got home safe
soobin : if you need anything or want to talk, i’m here no pressure
soobin : hope you’re resting well ❤️
You stared at the messages, throat tightening. The kindness in Soobin’s texts and Yunjin’s worried energy made fresh tears prick at your eyes. They had no idea what you had done. No idea you had spent the night in Heeseung’s bed, letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you like you’d lost all common sense.
You typed back with trembling fingers, keeping it short and vague
you : got home safe, just drank too much and needed to leave early sorry for worrying you guys i’m okay, just tired talk later ❤️
You sent it and immediately turned your phone on silent, burying your face in your hands the memories wouldn’t stop replaying. Heeseung’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. The way he had groaned your name when he came inside you.
How safe and warm his arms had felt when he pulled you under the duvet afterward. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it all away this never happened.
After sliding down your front door and sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours, you finally dragged yourself to the shower.
You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash away every trace of Heeseung his scent, his touch, the sticky evidence of what you’d done between your thighs. The hot water did nothing to erase the soreness or the vivid flashbacks that kept playing on loop in your head.
By the time the sun came up, you had made a decision this never happened. You would bury it so deep that even you would start to believe it. No one needed to know. Not Yunjin, not Soobin, not even yourself on most days.
You would go back to normal go to classes, focus on your art curator projects, complain about the noise next door like always. And most importantly, you would avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. flashback !
Heeseung stepped out of his apartment with a half empty water bottle in hand, planning to grab the last box from his car before the evening practice. The hallway was quiet until it wasn’t.
A girl came rushing around the corner, arms overloaded with a massive cardboard box that completely blocked her line of sight. She collided straight into his chest with a startled gasp.
The box flew out of her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling books, notebooks, and what looked like art supplies everywhere across the hallway carpet. Heeseung instinctively reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward.
She looked up at him, flushed and clearly annoyed, strands of hair falling across her face from the chaotic move. She was pretty, sharp eyes, determined expression the kind of girl who didn’t seem impressed by campus status.
A smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it.“Easy there, neighbor,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “You always run into people like you’re trying to tackle them, or am I just lucky?”
She blinked, then quickly crouched down to gather her scattered belongings, avoiding his gaze.“Sorry,” she muttered, tone tight and clipped. “Didn’t see you.”
Heeseung crouched down as well, picking up a thick book on museum curation that had slid toward his foot. He turned it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.“Art stuff, huh?” he asked casually. “You moving in next door?”
“Yeah just today,” she replied shortly, snatching the book back from him with a little more force than necessary.
He stood up first and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her struggle to reorganize everything into the box. Most girls would have smiled, maybe even recognized him as the basketball captain.
This one? She looked like she already wanted nothing to do with him.“I’m Heeseung,” he said, flashing his most charming grin. “Lee Heeseung, your new neighbor. Need help carrying that? Looks heavy.” He offered,
“I’m good thanks,” she answered without even looking up, standing quickly and slinging the tote over her shoulder.
Heeseung didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity. There was something refreshing about her indifference that it made him want to push a little harder.
“Just so you know,” he added, voice dropping into a teasing tone, “The walls here are pretty thin, try not to be too loud when you’re studying or doing whatever it is, serious art curator girls do at night.”Her eyes finally snapped up to his, narrowing with clear irritation.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said flatly. “And maybe you can try keeping your parties down some people actually have to study to pass their classes.”
Heeseung let out a low, genuine laugh that echoed down the empty hallway. She had bite and he liked that.
“Welcome to the building, miss morals,” he called after her as she turned toward her door, the nickname slipping out naturally. She didn’t respond. She fumbled with her keys, unlocked her apartment, and slipped inside without another word, the door shutting with a firm click.
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, still grinning to himself. The girl next door already hated him, and he hadn’t even thrown his first party yet. This was going to be interesting.
The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Afternoon practice was in full swing, but during a water break, Heeseung leaned against the bleachers, towel draped over his shoulders, a cocky grin already plastered on his face.
Jay tossed him a bottle of water. “You look way too happy for someone who just ran suicides.”Heeseung laughed, taking a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t help it ran into the new neighbor again this morning.”
Beomgyu perked up immediately, spinning the ball on his finger. “The girl next door? The one who already hates your guts?”
“miss morals herself,” Heeseung confirmed, his smirk widening. “I was just leaving for practice when she came out, i told her the walls are thin and she should try not to be too loud at night. You should’ve seen her face, she looked like she wanted to throw her coffee at me.”
Jake, who was stretching nearby, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you’re obsessed! that’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned her.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Heeseung shot back, but his grin betrayed him. “It’s just too easy. She gets so worked up over the smallest things. Last week I had a couple of people over, nothing crazy and she banged on my door at midnight like the apartment was on fire, called me an entitled asshole who only passes because ‘daddy pays for everything.’”
The group burst into laughter. Sunghoon shook his head, amused. “She’s got balls, most girls on campus would be throwing themselves at you the second they find out you’re the captain.”
“Exactly,” Heeseung said, tossing the towel aside. “That’s what makes it fun, she doesn’t give a single fuck who I am. No flirty smiles, no asking for tickets to games, nothing. She just glares at me like I personally ruined her life by existing next door it’s hilarious.”
Beomgyu grinned mischievously. “So what’s your plan? Keep annoying her until she moves out?”
“Nah,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the ball once. “I’m just getting started, next time the music’s on, I might turn it up a little louder to see how long it takes before she comes marching over again. Bet she’ll have that cute little angry face on.”
Jake, who had been quietly listening while stretching his hamstrings, suddenly straightened up with a knowing look.“Don’t you think you’re in love with her or something?” he asked casually, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.
The gym went quiet for half a second before the guys exploded with laughter and teasing whistles. Heeseung nearly choked on his water. “What the fuck, Jake?”
Jake shrugged, completely unfazed. “Think about it, she’s literally the only girl who doesn’t give a shit about you no ego stroking, no chasing after the basketball star. She treats you like any other annoying neighbor and instead of leaving her alone, you keep poking at her like a kid with a new toy. That sounds like a crush to me.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, but his ears turned slightly red. He dribbled the ball harder than necessary, trying to play it cool. “I’m not in love with her, she’s just entertaining. It's fun watching her get all riled up, that’s it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure ‘Entertaining.’ that’s why you bring her up every single practice.”
“Exactly,” Jake added with a grin. “If she suddenly started being nice to you, you’d probably be bored in a week but because she ignores you and calls you out, you can’t stop thinking about her.”
Heeseung pointed the ball at Jake threateningly, though his smirk was fighting to stay hidden. “Keep talking and I’ll make you run extra laps, Sim.”
The team laughed again, but Jake just held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “I’m just saying, man. One day you’re gonna realize you’re not annoying her because it’s funny, you’re doing it because you like the way she fights back.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes and turned away, dribbling the ball toward the court to end the conversation. But as practice resumed and he sank a clean three pointer, Jake’s words lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit.
Maybe there was a tiny bit of truth to it. Or maybe he just really, really enjoyed getting on your nerves.
The laughter from the team slowly died down as practice resumed. Heeseung shook off Jake’s teasing comment, channeling the slight irritation into sharper shots. He sank another clean three pointer, the ball swishing through the net with satisfying precision.
For a few minutes, the court felt like the only place where everything made sense no annoying neighbors, no complicated feelings, just the game. Then the gym doors swung open with a loud bang.
Everyone turned as a tall, sharply dressed man in a tailored coat strode in, his presence immediately sucking the casual energy out of the room. Coach paused mid instruction, nodding respectfully.
Heeseung’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the figure his father. Mr. Lee didn’t smile. He never did when he showed up unannounced like this. His eyes scanned the court with cold calculation, lingering on Heeseung with clear disapproval.
“Take five, boys,” Coach called out, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over, jaw already tight. “Dad what are you doing here?”Mr. Lee stopped a few feet away, arms folded behind his back. His voice was low but carried easily across the quiet gym.
“I came to see if my son is actually putting in the work that’s supposed to get him into the NBA,” he said flatly. “From what I’ve been hearing, it doesn’t look like it.”Heeseung’s friends lingered nearby, pretending to drink water but clearly listening.
“I’ve been at every practice,” Heeseung replied, keeping his tone even. “Coach said my shooting percentage is up this week—”
“Don’t make excuses,” his father cut him off sharply. “Your brother Heedo was never this distracted at your age, he was laser focused top scorer captainfull ride to the best program in the country. And you? You’re out here laughing with your little friends during water breaks, probably thinking about parties and girls instead of the game.”
Heeseung’s grip tightened on the basketball until his knuckles turned white.“I’m not distracted,” he said through gritted teeth. Mr.Lee stepped closer, voice dropping into that familiar, cutting tone that always found its mark.
“You’re good for nothing if you can’t even focus on what matters. All that talent wasted because you’d rather play around and act like some campus king. You think the scouts care about your popularity? they don’t, you will never be enough if you keep this up and you will certainly never be better than your brother.”
The words landed like punches. Heedo — the golden child. The one who had already made it pro overseas. The one their father never stopped comparing him to.Heeseung’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but years of this had taught him it was useless. His father never listened.
Mr. Lee straightened his coat, expression unchanging. “Fix it or don’t bother coming home for the holidays, i didn’t raise a failure.”Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the gym, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Heeseung stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, chest tight with anger and something heavier he refused to name. The team slowly went back to practice, but the energy had shifted. Jake shot him a concerned look, but Heeseung ignored it, dribbling the ball harder than necessary as he moved back onto the court.
Inside, the familiar bitterness churned.His father’s words echoed louder than any cheering crowd ever could. You will never be enough. You will never be better than your brother. Heeseung sank another shot, but this time it didn’t feel satisfying.
All he could think about was how easy it was to annoy the girl next door because at least when she glared at him and called him an entitled asshole, he felt something other than this hollow, crushing weight.
The heavy gym doors swung shut behind Mr. Lee, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. The team tried to resume practice, but the atmosphere had soured.
Heeseung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where his father had been. The familiar sting of those words good for nothing, never enough, never better than your brother settled heavy in his chest like lead.
Jake jogged over, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man don’t let him get to you, your dad’s always been like that you’re killing it out here.”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu added, spinning the ball on his finger. “Ignore him, you’re the one who’s gonna make it to the NBA, not Heedo.” Jay nodded. “Come on, let’s run some more plays we’ll crush the next game.”Heeseung forced a half smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah sure.”
He went through the motions for the rest of practice dribbling, shooting, defending but he was quiet. No cocky jokes no teasing his teammates no loud laughter. Every time someone tried to pull him into conversation or hype him up after a good play, he gave short, one word replies and kept his head down. The usual spark was gone.
Even Coach noticed, shooting him concerned glances but saying nothing.The moment practice officially ended, Heeseung grabbed his bag and left first, ignoring the calls from his friends asking if he wanted to grab food. He needed air. He needed to get away from the echoes of his father’s voice.
He walked aimlessly for a while, the cool evening air doing little to clear his head. Eventually, his feet carried him toward the small café just off campus the one with decent coffee and quiet corners where he sometimes went to think.He pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly, and scanned the room out of habit and then he saw you.
You were sitting alone at a corner table near the window, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and your laptop. Your hair was tied up messily, a pen between your teeth as you frowned at something on the screen. You looked focused serious and annoyingly cute in that concentrated way of yours.
A small, familiar spark ignited in his chest the one that always appeared whenever he spotted you. Before he could think better of it, Heeseung walked straight over and slid into the seat across from you without asking.You looked up, startled at first, then your expression quickly shifted into pure annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharp but low enough not to disturb the other customers. You closed your laptop slightly, glaring at him. “This is my table, go sit somewhere else.”
Heeseung leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, that signature smirk slowly returning despite the heavy weight still sitting in his stomach. Seeing your irritated face felt lighter somehow. Easier than dealing with everything else.
“Relax, miss morals,” he said, voice teasing. “I’m not here to ruin your precious study time. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi to my favorite neighbor.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Favorite? We barely tolerate each other and I’m trying to work unlike some people who can afford to slack off because ‘daddy can pay for everything.’”
The jab should’ve stung more, especially after his father’s visit, but instead it made Heeseung’s smirk widen. There, it was that fire. That complete lack of care for who he was or what people usually said to him. You didn’t tiptoe around him. You didn’t try to impress him. You just called him out.
It felt strangely nice. Not in a romantic way, just refreshing ( liar liar liar he is totally in love with her ) He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ouch straight for the throat today. What are you working on that’s got you so grumpy? Another museum thing? Planning to curate an exhibit called ‘Why Heeseung Should Shut Up’?”
You gave him a flat look, clearly not amused. “It’s for my capstone project and yes, if it helps keep loud neighbors quiet, I might include a whole section on it.”
Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound genuine even if it was quiet. For the first time since his dad had shown up, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. He realized something in that moment. Your company wasn’t bad.
In fact, sitting here watching you get all annoyed and snappy at him felt better than sitting alone with his father’s words ringing in his head. It was simple predictable in the best way. You gave him a reaction real, unfiltered and for a few minutes, it made everything else fade into the background.
He loved annoying you. Not because he wanted to hurt you but because when you pushed back, it reminded him he was still here. Still capable of feeling something other than pressure and disappointment.
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he made no move to leave. “I’ll behave for now but only if you tell me what that exhibit is actually about.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, clearly debating whether to kick him out or just ignore him. Heeseung waited, smirk still in place, secretly hoping you’d keep arguing with him a little longer.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. heeseung’s pov !
Heeseung woke up to a heavy, unfamiliar silence.
His eyes opened slowly, the soft gray morning light filtering through the curtains. His body felt sore in places that reminded him immediately of last night a dull ache in his shoulders, the faint stickiness between the sheets, the faint scent of sex still hanging in the air.
He turned his head to the side the bed was empty. The spot where you had been lying was cold, the pillow slightly dented but untouched now. No clothes scattered on the floor no shoes by the door nothing.
Heeseung sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. The memories came back in quiet, unflinching flashes the party you in that short black skirt.The heated dancing that turned into something reckless.The desperate makeout in his car while horns blared behind you.
How he’d carried you inside, how urgently you both had moved against each other against the door, then on this bed.The way you had moaned his name.The way he had finished inside you.
And how, afterward, he had pulled you close under the duvet, your back against his chest, both of you falling asleep in silence.
Now you were gone. He glanced at the clock. 7:23 a.m. You must have woken up in a panic sometime in the early hours and slipped out while he was still asleep. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone heavy, uncomfortable, and strangely final.
Heeseung let out a long, tired breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. This was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake.
You had always made it clear how much you couldn’t stand him. The constant complaints about his noise, the glares in the hallway, the way you called him entitled behind his back.
Last night had been nothing more than too much alcohol and bad judgment on both sides. You waking up and running away only confirmed it.He didn’t blame you. If anything, he felt a quiet wave of regret wash over him. He should have known better.
He should have stopped things before they went that far. Now things between you two were already tense, this was going to be even more awkward.
Heeseung stood up and walked to the bathroom. While the shower heated up, he looked at himself in the mirror. There were faint scratch marks on his shoulders and a small bruise near his collarbone. Physical proof that last night had really happened.
He stepped under the hot water, letting it run over his face and shoulders. It never happened, he told himself. That was the only way forward.He would forget about it. Pretend the entire night was a blur he couldn’t quite remember.
No teasing no comments in the hallway no bringing it up ever again. You clearly wanted to erase it, and honestly so did he. The last thing he needed right now was more complications in his life especially with someone who lived right next door.
After the shower, he got dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He made coffee in the kitchen, moving on autopilot. The apartment felt too quiet now.
Heeseung leaned against the counter, sipping the bitter drink, and stared at the wall that separated his place from yours.From now on, things would go back to normal. You would keep avoiding him like you always did.
He would keep his music at a reasonable volume when he remembered. And neither of you would ever speak about what happened last night. It was better this way, cleaner and simpler.
He finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and set it in the sink. Last night was a mistake and as far as Heeseung was concerned, it was already forgotten.
For the next two weeks, you turned your life into a carefully orchestrated mission of avoidance while your body slowly started betraying you in ways you couldn’t ignore. The mantra remained the same this never happened.
Every morning began the same way. Your alarm went off at 6:15 a.m., pulling you from restless sleep. The moment you sat up, a familiar wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, not violent, but persistent and queasy, making the room feel slightly off balance.
You’d sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, breathing slowly through your nose, waiting for it to pass. Some mornings it did. Others, you’d rush to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink, nothing coming up except bitter bile and a metallic taste that lingered on your tongue.
Once the worst of it subsided, you’d quickly get ready, choosing simple, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Then came the listening part. You’d press your ear to the front door, heart beating a little too fast, straining to hear any sound from Heeseung’s apartment next door.
If you caught even the faintest click of his lock or the low murmur of his voice on a phone call, you’d wait sometimes ten minutes, sometimes twenty pretending to reorganize your bag or check your notes until the hallway was silent again.
Leaving became a tactical exercise. You slipped out as quietly as possible, taking the side staircase instead of the main hallway whenever you spotted his car in the parking lot. The fatigue hit hardest during these moments.
Your legs felt heavier than usual, and by the time you reached campus, you were already drained, needing to sit down in the library for a few minutes just to catch your breath. Coming home was even more stressful.
You started timing your returns obsessively. If practice usually ended around 6 p.m., you’d stay late at the library or in an empty classroom, working on your capstone exhibition proposal until you were sure Heeseung was either out with friends or already inside. One evening, the dizziness caught you off guard.
You had just turned the corner into your hallway when the world tilted slightly. You had to lean against the wall, breathing shallowly, while a strong wave of nausea made your stomach churn.
The faint scent of someone’s dinner cooking nearby sent you rushing the last few steps to your door. The moment you got inside, you barely made it to the toilet before vomiting actual, forceful vomiting that left you trembling on the cold tile floor.
You told yourself it was stress. The constant hyper vigilance. The lack of proper sleep. The emotional weight of pretending that night had never occurred. But the symptoms kept creeping in, growing harder to dismiss.
Smells became your enemy. The aroma of coffee from the café near campus, which you used to love, now made your stomach revolt. You switched to plain crackers and ginger tea, keeping a secret stash in your bag.
Even the scent of your own shampoo sometimes triggered a gag reflex. Food tasted strange too salty, too sweet, or completely off. You lost interest in meals altogether, surviving on small portions that you could keep down.
The fatigue settled deep in your bones. You’d come home from classes, collapse on the couch, and wake up hours later feeling like you hadn’t rested at all.
Your breasts felt tender and slightly swollen, brushing against your shirt making you wince. Mood swings hit at random. One minute you were focused on your work, the next you felt inexplicably teary or irritable. All of this made the avoidance even more draining.
One Thursday night, your timing failed you had stayed late at the library, hoping Heeseung would already be inside. When you finally dragged your tired body back to the building, the hallway lights felt blindingly bright.
Just as you reached your door, fumbling with your keys, you heard the unmistakable click of his lock opening.Panic surged through you. Your hands shook so badly that the keys nearly dropped. You managed to slip inside just as his door opened, pressing your back against the wood, heart hammering wildly.
You held your breath, listening to his footsteps pass by. The moment they faded, the nausea hit like a wave. You barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, knees weak, tears stinging your eyes from the force of it.
Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your forehead resting on your knees, breathing shakily. This was getting worse.You were exhausted from the constant calculation when to leave, when to return, which route to take, how long to wait in the stairwell. The thin wall between your apartments felt like a constant threat.
You’d hear him moving around sometimes. The low sound of his music ( mercifully quieter these days ), the murmur of his voice when he was on the phone, the occasional laugh. Every sound made your stomach twist with anxiety and unwelcome memories.
You became hyper aware of everything. You avoided cooking anything with strong smells. You did laundry at 2 a.m. when you were sure he was asleep. You even changed the time you took showers, worried the sound of running water might coincide with him coming home.
Yunjin and Soobin noticed the changes. “You’ve been canceling plans a lot,” Yunjin said during one quick lunch. “And you look really tired, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile while fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of her food. “Just stressed about the capstone deadline it’s taking everything out of me.”
Soobin watched you quietly, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Inside your apartment, the symptoms continued to build.
Mornings were brutal. You’d wake up with tender breasts and that persistent queasy feeling. Some days the vomiting was so bad you had to keep a small bucket discreetly by your bed.
The fatigue made it hard to focus during lectures. You'd find yourself zoning out, head heavy, fighting the urge to lay your head on the desk. Yet you refused to connect the dots .It’s just stress, you told yourself repeatedly. The avoidance the guilt the lack of sleep.
You pushed through, continuing your careful dance of avoidance. You timed every exit and entry with military precision. You became an expert at predicting Heeseung’s schedule ( she should become a dispatch employee )
You kept your headphones on to drown out any sound from next door. You buried yourself in your art curator work, sketching exhibition layouts late into the night until your eyes burned.Two full weeks passed in this strange limbo.
You were pale, exhausted, and constantly on edge. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The fatigue made simple tasks feel monumental. And the fear of accidentally seeing Heeseung in the hallway kept you trapped in this self imposed isolation.
Deep down, a small, terrified voice in the back of your mind whispered that something was very wrong. But you silenced it the same way you silenced every memory of that night this never happened.
You would keep avoiding him. You would keep pretending everything was normal.Even as your body screamed louder and louder that nothing was normal anymore.
One ordinary afternoon, everything shifted. You were sitting in the small campus café with Yunjin and Soobin, the three of you squeezed around a corner table. Yunjin was dramatically slumped in her chair, one hand pressed to her lower stomach, complaining loudly.
“Ugh, my period is literally killing me today,” she groaned, stirring her iced latte with a pout. “Cramps are so bad, I can barely sit straight why does it always hit the worst during the worst season? I swear my uterus hates me.”
Soobin chuckled softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers from the convenience store?” You tried to smile and nod along, but the words barely registered.
Her period is killing her…..
The sentence echoed in your head like a siren your own period. You mentally counted the days. It should have come a full week ago. Seven days late. Maybe more.
You had been so caught up in avoiding Heeseung, dealing with the constant nausea, fatigue, and vomiting that you hadn’t even noticed the date slipping by. Your heart started beating faster.
You pulled out your phone under the table and quietly opened your cycle tracking app. The screen glowed with the familiar calendar. A bright red notification stared back at you
period : 7 days late
You stared at the words until they blurred. No no, no, no. You tried to push the thought away immediately. It had to be stress. The irregular sleep, the constant anxiety of avoiding Heeseung, the vomiting all of it could easily throw your cycle off. That was normal right?
But then the symptoms started flashing through your mind like warning lights. The persistent nausea every morning. The vomiting that left you weak on the bathroom floor. The crushing fatigue that made it hard to stay awake in lectures.
The dizziness, sensitivity to smells, tender, swollen breasts. Your stomach dropped, could you be pregnant?
The word felt foreign and terrifying in your head. No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t get pregnant from one night. One reckless, stupid night. People had unprotected sex all the time and nothing happened.
You were on the pill…wait, were you? You had been so stressed with midterms that you couldn’t even remember if you had taken it properly that week. The thought made bile rise in your throat again.
Across the table, Yunjin and Soobin were still talking something about upcoming assignments and a group project. Their voices sounded far away, like you were underwater.You couldn’t focus on a single word they were saying. Your mind was spinning, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it.
Yunjin waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to you! you’ve been spacing out the entire time are you okay?”You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Your mouth felt dry.
“I—yeah, sorry just tired,” you mumbled. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head home early today my head’s killing me.”Soobin frowned, concern clear in his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you back?”“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, already standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’ll text you later promise.”
You left the café before they could protest, walking fast, then almost jogging once you were out of sight. The nausea was back, stronger now, mixing with pure terror. Your hands were shaking as you headed straight for the small convenience store two blocks away.
Inside the store, you felt like every camera was watching you. You moved quickly through the aisles, heart hammering, until you found the family planning section. There were several pregnancy test kits.
You grabbed the most reliable looking one with trembling fingers, not even reading the brand properly. The cashier gave you a neutral look as you paid, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.
Bag clutched tightly to your chest, you practically ran the entire way back to your apartment building. You took the side stairs again, praying Heeseung wasn’t around. The moment you were inside your own apartment, you locked the door twice and leaned against it, breathing hard.
You pulled the kit out of the bag with shaking hands. The box felt heavy dangerous. You read the instructions carefully, twice. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = pregnant simple but terrifying.
You went to the bathroom, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. You followed every step exactly, hands trembling so badly you almost dropped the test. When you were done, you placed the stick on the counter and set a timer on your phone three minutes.
You paced the small bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second felt like an hour. The nausea was back, but this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was pure fear.
What if it was positive?
What if you were actually pregnant with Heeseung’s baby?
The thought made your knees weak. You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold tile floor, staring at the test on the counter like it was a bomb about to go off.The timer was still counting down.
Two minutes left. You hugged your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the small plastic stick that now, held your entire future in two little lines. You were so scared.
The timer on your phone hit zero with a soft chime that felt deafening in the small bathroom. You stayed frozen on the cold tile floor for several long seconds, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the pregnancy test lying face up on the counter like it was a live grenade.
Slowly, you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stepped closer. One line was already dark and clear the control line. The second line was faint at first, but unmistakable. A pale pink line slowly darkening right beside the first one.
two lines = positive
You blinked hard, once, twice, as if the result would magically change if you stared long enough.“No…” you whispered, voice cracking. “No, that can’t be right.”Denial crashed over you like a wave. You snatched the test off the counter and held it closer to the light, turning it at different angles. Maybe it was a faulty test.
Maybe the line was an evaporation line. Maybe you had read the instructions wrong. You grabbed the box again and reread the instructions three more times, your hands trembling so badly the paper shook.
But no matter how many times you checked, the two lines stared back at you, clear and undeniable. It was positive. You were pregnant. The reality slammed into you all at once.
Your knees buckled. You sank back down to the bathroom floor, the test still clutched tightly in your hand. A sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as the full weight of what this meant crashed over you.
You were pregnant with Heeseung’s baby. The boy you couldn’t stand. The neighbor you had spent months avoiding. The one person you had sworn to pretend never touched you.
A broken sound escaped you half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief. Your free hand moved instinctively to your stomach, pressing lightly against the still flat surface. There was a life growing inside you right now. A tiny, real consequence of one reckless, drunken night.
The crying came harder. You curled in on yourself, forehead resting on your knees as sobs wracked your body. All the symptoms you had tried to blame on stress the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the dizziness suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.
You were going to have a baby. And the father was the last person on earth you wanted to be tied to. After several long minutes, the tears slowed, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, staring blankly at the two pink lines.
You made a decision right there on the bathroom floor. You were not telling Heeseung anything, not a single word.He didn’t need to know. He would never know. Telling him would only make everything worse the teasing, the drama, the forced proximity, the endless complications with someone you already couldn’t stand.
You could barely handle living next door to him as it was. Bringing a child into that mess was unthinkable. This was your problem. Your body, your choice. You would handle it quietly. You would get rid of it.The thought made fresh tears sting your eyes, but you forced them back. There was no other option.
You were still in school, chasing your dream of becoming an art curator. Your life was barely stable right now. A baby, especially one with Heeseung as the father would ruin everything.
You stayed on the floor for a long time, clutching the test, letting the weight of the decision settle over you.
Eventually, you stood up on unsteady legs. You wrapped the test in toilet paper and hid it deep in the trash can under some tissues. You washed your face with cold water until the redness in your eyes faded a little.
You looked at your reflection pale, exhausted, terrified and whispered to yourself “This never happened.” You would schedule an. appointment. You would end this quietly.You would move on with your life and never speak of that night again.
But as you turned off the bathroom light and stepped into your silent apartment, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever. You were pregnant. And for the first time since that night, the wall between you and Heeseung felt like it was closing in.
The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone. You weren’t going to tell Heeseung. You were going to end this quietly and move on with your life. The very next morning, you tried to make the appointment.
You sat on your bed with your laptop open, hands shaking as you searched for clinics near campus that offered termination services. Your stomach was already churning with nausea again, but you forced yourself to focus.
You found a few options a women’s health clinic downtown and a Planned Parenthood branch about twenty minutes away. You clicked on the booking page for the first one. The form asked for your name, date of birth, contact number, and reason for visit.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. You couldn’t do it. Every time you tried to type your real information, panic surged through you. What if someone recognized your name? What if the clinic called or sent confirmation texts while you were near Heeseung?
What if the appointment somehow got back to campus gossip? The thought of walking into a clinic alone, explaining your situation to a stranger, and going through with it made your throat close up.
You closed the laptop without saving anything. You told yourself you’d try again tomorrow when you felt calmer. But tomorrow came and went. Then the next day. And the next. Meanwhile, the symptoms grew worse.
The nausea was no longer just morning sickness it hit you at random times throughout the day. The smell of food in the cafeteria made you gag. Even walking past the coffee shop near campus triggered violent waves that left you rushing to the nearest bathroom.
You started carrying saltine crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale everywhere, but they barely helped anymore.
Vomiting became more frequent. One afternoon during a lecture, you had to excuse yourself midway through and barely made it to the restroom before throwing up.
You returned to class pale and sweaty, mumbling something about food poisoning when Yunjin looked at you worriedly.
Fatigue wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You fell asleep in the library twice that week, waking up with your cheek stuck to your notebook. Simple tasks like climbing the stairs to your apartment left you breathless and dizzy.
Your breasts were constantly tender, and your mood swung wildly one moment you were numb, the next you felt like crying over nothing. Yunjin and Soobin started noticing. During lunch on Thursday, Yunjin set her chopsticks down and stared at you.
“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” she said, voice firm but concerned. “You’ve been looking like a ghost for days, you barely eat anything, you keep disappearing to the bathroom, and you look exhausted even when you say you slept are you sick? Is it stress? Talk to us.”
Soobin nodded, his gentle eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been canceling plans and spacing out a lot. If something’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone. We’re here.”You forced a weak smile, pushing your untouched food around your plate. The smell of it was making you nauseous again.
“I’m okay, really,” you lied, voice quieter than usual. “Just… really behind on my capstone. The deadline is stressing me out more than I thought. I’ll be fine once I catch up.”
They didn’t look convinced, but they let it drop for the moment. Still, you could feel their eyes on you for the rest of the meal. Even Heeseung started noticing something was off.
You had managed to avoid direct contact with him for weeks, but it was impossible to hide everything when you lived next door.
One evening, you were coming home later than usual after another failed attempt to book the appointment online. You felt dizzy and nauseous, moving slowly up the hallway with your keys already in hand. As you reached your door, Heeseung’s door opened.
He stepped out, wearing a simple black hoodie, hair slightly messy like he’d just come back from practice. His eyes landed on you immediately.
You froze for half a second, then quickly turned your face away and fumbled with your lock, trying to get inside before he could say anything. But Heeseung didn’t tease you this time.
Instead, he paused in his doorway, brow slightly furrowed as he watched you. You looked pale. Thinner. There were dark circles under your eyes, and the way you moved seemed off fragile.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the usual cocky remark didn’t come.“You good?” he asked quietly, voice lacking its normal edge.
You didn’t answer. You finally got the door open and slipped inside without looking at him, shutting it quickly behind you
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, staring at your closed door with a strange, unsettled feeling in his chest. Something wasn’t right with you. He could see it.But after everything after that night you both had silently agreed to forget he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.
Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing hard. Fresh tears stung your eyes as another wave of nausea hit you. You slid down to the floor, hugging your knees. You still hadn’t been able to book the appointment.
The symptoms were getting worse every day, your friends were worried and now even Heeseung had noticed something was wrong. You pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering to yourself again and again
“This never happened… this never happened…” But the lie was starting to feel impossible to keep. Heeseung had noticed. For the past two weeks, it had become painfully obvious that you were avoiding him like the plague.
At first, he thought it was the usual the cold shoulder after that night you both had silently agreed to forget. But it quickly went beyond that. You timed your movements with military precision.
He would hear your door open and close at odd hours, always when he was either inside or already gone. You took the side stairs. You left earlier than usual in the mornings and came back much later at night.
Even at university, catching a glimpse of you had become nearly impossible. You seemed to disappear into the library or empty classrooms the moment practice ended.It was clear you were doing everything in your power to never cross paths with him.
Heeseung told himself it didn’t bother him. He had decided to forget that night too. No teasing. No bringing it up. Just normal or as normal as things could be when you lived right next door
But something was wrong. You looked terrible lately. He first noticed it in passing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders seemed to slump with exhaustion. Then it got worse you moved slower.
Your face was paler than usual. You barely left your apartment except for classes, and even then you looked like you were running on empty.
One evening, after a long basketball practice, Heeseung was walking back to the apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sun had already set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the path. That’s when he saw you.
You were a few meters ahead, heading toward the entrance. Your steps were unsteady, one hand pressed lightly against the wall for support.
Even from behind, he could tell something was very wrong. Your posture was slumped, your breathing looked shallow, and you looked like you were barely holding yourself upright.
Heeseung’s stomach tightened. He quickened his pace without thinking and caught up to you just as you reached the building door.“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, no trace of his usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?”
You turned your head slightly, eyes glassy and tired. The moment you recognized him, your expression hardened.“I don’t have time for your teasing right now, Heeseung,” you muttered weakly, trying to push past him toward the elevator.
Heeseung felt a flash of annoyance, not because you were dismissing him, but because he was genuinely worried and you clearly didn’t believe it.“I’m not teasing,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
You didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the elevator. Heeseung followed, stepping in right after you. The doors closed, trapping the two of you in the small space. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. He could hear your breathing too fast, too shallow.
When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out first. But the moment your feet hit the hallway, your legs buckled. You swayed dangerously, one hand reaching out blindly for the wall as the world spun around you. Heeseung moved fast.
He dropped his gym bag and caught you before you could hit the floor, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other supporting your back. Your body went limp against him for a few terrifying seconds.
“Shit—” he muttered, heart pounding. “Hey, stay with me.” You were half conscious, mumbling something incoherent about being fine. Heeseung didn’t waste time arguing. He adjusted his grip and lifted you carefully into his arms in bridal style, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Your apartment was right next to his. He fumbled for a moment with your keys ( which had fallen from your hand ) until he managed to unlock the door. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and headed straight for your bedroom.
The room was neat but clearly lived in textbooks stacked on the desk, a half finished sketch on the table, a small trash can near the bed. Heeseung gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your face was pale, forehead slightly damp with sweat.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. You looked so small and fragile like this. Nothing like the fiery girl who used to bang on his door and call him an entitled asshole.
Heeseung grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it on your nightstand. Then he pulled up the chair from your desk and sat down beside the bed, watching you carefully.
Your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your face relaxed as you slipped into a deeper sleep. Heeseung stayed there, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what was going on with you.
He didn’t know why you looked so sick. He didn’t even know if you’d want him here when you woke up. But right now, leaving you alone didn’t feel like an option. So he stayed quietly waiting.
Until your breathing became steady and deep, and he was sure you were fully asleep. Heeseung stayed. He told himself he’d only wait until you fell into a proper sleep, but the longer he sat there watching your pale face and shallow breathing, the harder it became to leave.
You looked exhausted, truly exhausted in a way that went beyond simple tiredness. Dark circles under your eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin lacking its usual color. Something was clearly wrong, and the protective instinct he didn’t know he had kept him rooted to the chair.
After almost an hour, when your breathing had deepened into steady, even inhales, Heeseung stood up quietly. He couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. He moved silently through your apartment, careful not to make noise.
Your kitchen was small and neat, but the fridge was nearly empty a few bottles of water, some crackers, and not much else. Heeseung frowned. No wonder you looked so drained. He opened the cupboards and found rice, a couple of eggs, and some ginger.
Simple gentle on the stomach. He decided to make congee something light that his mom used to make for him when he was sick.
He worked quietly, chopping what little he could find, boiling water, and stirring the pot on low heat. The smell of ginger and warm rice slowly filled the small apartment. He hoped it would help when you woke up. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.
He kept glancing toward the bedroom every few minutes, making sure you were still resting. Almost two hours later, you started stirring.
Heeseung was just turning off the stove when he heard movement from the bedroom. He poured some congee into a bowl, added a bit of water to make it lighter, and was about to bring it to you when
You bolted upright in bed, eyes wide with sudden panic. The smell of the food hit you like a wave. Your face went even paler, hand flying to your mouth as nausea surged violently. Heeseung’s eyes widened. “Hey—”
You didn’t wait. You scrambled off the bed on shaky legs and ran straight to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Heeseung followed right behind you, worry spiking through his chest. He reached the bathroom door just as you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up violently.
“Shit—” He moved quickly, kneeling beside you without hesitation. One hand gently gathered your hair, holding it back from your face. His other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay I’ve got you, just breathe.”
You retched again, body trembling with the force of it. Heeseung stayed right there, murmuring quiet reassurances, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.
When the worst of it seemed to pass, he reached over and flushed the toilet, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dampened it with cool water.“Here,” he said softly, handing you the towel. “Wipe your face.”
You took it with trembling hands, still breathing hard. Heeseung stood up briefly to get a glass of water from the sink and brought it back to you.“Small sips,” he instructed, crouching down again. “Don’t drink too fast.”
While you rinsed your mouth and took careful sips, Heeseung’s eyes wandered around the small bathroom, looking for anything that might help. His gaze landed on the trash can beside the sink. Something white and plastic was poking out from under some tissues.
Curious, he reached down and pulled it out, it was a pregnancy test. Two distinct red lines stared back at him clear, unmistakable, and positive. Heeseung froze.
His brain short circuited for a second. The test felt heavy in his hand as the reality sank in. Positive you were pregnant. He slowly turned his head toward you. You were already looking at him.
Your eyes were wide with pure terror, face drained of all color, lips parted in shock. You looked caught completely and utterly caught like the worst secret in the world had just been ripped open. The glass of water trembled in your hand.
Heeseung’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His gaze flicked between the test in his hand and your terrified expression.
The pieces clicked together horribly fast the avoidance, the exhaustion, the vomiting, the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together for the past two weeks.
This wasn’t just stress this was because of that night because of him. Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice coming out quieter than he expected.
“…Is this yours?” The bathroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. You were still staring at him, tears already gathering in your eyes again, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He only knew that everything had just changed. Heeseung stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test for what felt like an eternity.
The bathroom was deathly quiet except for your shaky breathing. When he finally looked up at you, your face was pale, eyes wide with pure terror, tears already spilling down your cheeks. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.
“…Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low and rough. You didn’t speak at first. Your lips trembled as fresh tears rolled down your face. Then you gave a small, barely noticeable nod.
Heeseung felt something twist sharply in his chest. He looked back down at the test, then at you again. His next question came out quieter, almost hesitant.
“Is the baby mine?” The moment the words left his mouth, your face crumpled completely. You broke into heavy, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as you tried to cover your mouth with one hand.
“I’m sorry…” you choked out between cries. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen, i never meant for any of this, it was just one stupid night and I— I’m planning on getting rid of it. I won’t bother you with any of this, i won’t get in your way. You don’t have to worry about anything, i’ll handle it quietly.”
Heeseung’s expression shifted the instant you said those words. Hurt flashed across his face raw, unguarded hurt. His brows drew together, jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying.
The idea that you were planning to terminate the pregnancy without even telling him felt like a punch to the gut. His hand holding the test lowered slowly to his side. You kept crying, words tumbling out faster now, desperate and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this either, i’ll take care of everything. You can just forget about it…i promise I won’t drag you into anything.”
Heeseung stayed silent for a long moment, staring at you as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking small and devastated.
The hurt in his chest mixed with something heavier confusion, disbelief, and a strange ache he couldn’t quite name. Finally, his voice came out low and strained.
