Synopsis:Β You and Chris chose future over love once, and it cost you everything you didnβt know how to name. Years later, you wonder if the right person ever truly becomes the wrong time. (18k words)
Author's note: This is the final part of Eventually. Hope you enjoy the journey (and the angst as well π«£). Congratulations and thank you for making it this far. β£οΈ
That night, after Chris leaves, the house feels too still.
You stand by the window longer than you should, staring at the empty space where his car had been just minutes ago. The porch light hums softly above you, and for a second you almost expect him to come back, say he forgot something, say he changed his mind. But he doesnβt.
You lock the door, climb the stairs, and slip into your old bedroom. You sit at the edge of your bed and let the quiet settle in.
Chris is here. Of all the places in the world, of all the cities you could have run into each other, he found you hereβat your childhood home, on a random night when you werenβt even supposed to be in town.
You lie back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
He said heβll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. To hangout? Or is it a date?
Your heart does something reckless in your chest. You roll onto your side and bury your face into your pillow, groaning softly at yourself. Youβre not eighteen anymore. You run a company. Youβve handled billion worth of business deals and meetings. And yet one look from him tonight had you stammering like a teenager again.
You replay the moment he said, βItβs really you.β
The way his eyes softened.
The way he looked⦠relieved.
You press your palm over your chest and ask yourself. Is this a good thing?
The last time your lives collided like this, it hurt. It was beautiful and terrifying and full of almosts. You were the one who told him to chase his dream. You were the one who walked away because you thought you were doing the right thing. And years later, youβre still not sure if you were.
You slowly exhale air and close your eyes. Youβve rebuilt yourself carefully since thenβbrick by brick. After the broken engagement. After the canceled wedding. After the whispers. After convincing yourself that maybe love just wasnβt meant for you.
Chris feels like something that could unravel all of that. Or maybe⦠something that could make it make sense.
If this is going to happen again, you donβt want it to be half-hearted. You donβt want it to be fueled by nostalgia or loneliness. You want it to be real. You walk to the mirror, studying yourselfβthe woman youβve become. Stronger. Smarter. Guarded in ways you werenβt back then.
And still⦠when he smiled at you tonight, you felt like the girl who waited on the bleachers with a lunchbox in her lap.
Maybe this isnβt about whether crossing paths again is good or bad. Maybe itβs about whether youβre brave enough now to choose differently.
So you climb into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, staring at the ceiling in the dark. You fall asleep not thinking about what went wrong, but wondering what might finally go right.
-
The car ride settles into something that feels like nostalgia.
Chris drives slow with music plays low in the background, just enough to fill the space between you. The car gliding through the streets you know a little too well. It feels natural in a way that almost startles you, like slipping into a memory you didnβt realize your body still remembered.
And yet, something is different.
Not just that youβre older now. Not just that time has layered itself onto both of you. Somehow, youβre even more nervous than you were at eighteen. Back then, everything felt possible in a reckless, fearless way. Now, every glance, every pause feels weighted.
The car stops at a red light and Chris rests one hand on the center console, turning his head toward you. βHowβs your mom?β
βI guess sheβs doing great,β you answer. βSheβs on a cruise. The one I got her for her birthday.β
He raises his brows, impressed. βWow.β
You shrug. βSheβs probably enjoying the bottomless margaritas as we speak.β
He laughs and then teasingly says, βLook at you! Being a good daughter and all.β
You turn your head his way, narrowing your eyes at him. βIβve always been a good daughter.β
βAlright,β he says, amused. βI stand corrected.β
The light is still red, and now that youβve started talking, it feels easier to keep going. βSoβ¦ why are you here?β
He exhales softly, eyes back on the road. βItβs still my hometown.β
βRight. But youβre notββ You hesitate for a second and end up letting out a dry, humorless laugh. βI mean, are you not coaching right now?β
βMy contract has just ended,β he simply explains. βThey offered to extend it, but Iβve also got another offer. Somewhere else.β
You glance at him. βSo youβreβ¦ taking time off?β
βYeah. Thinking things through.β
You poke fun without thinking. βWow. Didnβt think youβd be a hot commodity.β
He grins, unmistakably pleased. βI am hot.β
Somehow, your cheeks heating at his immediate answer. But you manage to let out a scoff. βOh, please.β
The light turns green. He eases the car forward, smile lingering as he focuses on driving.
You can wait, patiently following the streets he takes to know where heβs taking you. But after a minute, you ask anyway, βSoβ¦ where are we going?β
He keeps his eyes on the road for a few seconds longer than necessary. Then he glances at you, a playful, dimpled grin plastered his face.
βFirst,β he says, βwe need to update our stats.β
A moment later, the car pulls into a bowling alley parking lot. You stare at the glowing sign for a second, then look over at him. βThis is what you meant by updating our stats?β
He grins as he parks. βAbsolutely.β
You snort. βSo you can prove youβre still the same loser who canβt bowl?β
His mouth falls open in exaggerated offense. βExcuse you?β
You unbuckle slowly, unfazed. βHistorically speaking, your average wasβ¦ tragic.β
βI have improved,β he insists, already stepping out of the car. βIβm way better now. Possibly the best.β
You follow him inside, shrugging coyly. βIβll believe it when I see it.β
He shoots you a look over his shoulder, competitive fire lighting his eyes. βYouβre going to regret saying that.β
You smile to yourself because some things really donβt change at all.
-
The game turns competitive almost immediately. You tighten the shoelaces on your bowling shoes before getting up and picking a ball to throw. Honestly, you feel a little nervous because the last time you played bowling was years ago. Youβre not sure if youβre still good but you think you can rely on muscle memory. And luck.
You take the the ball, feeling the weight in your hand as you walk up toward the lane and exhale air to calm yourself. As you figure how hard, how fast you should throw the ball, you feel a presence behind you. Then, a pair of hands on each side of your waist.
βYou aim and throw the ball that way,β Chris says, his warm breath brushing your ears as he speaks.
One hand moves to your elbow as he teaches you how to bowl like youβre new to this. βAnd try to knock down as much pins as you can,β he further explains.
You try not to focus much on the way his body lingering close behind you or the heat of his body slowly seeping into yours. Or the way his thumb lightly rubbing over the skin on your arm. You scoff and surprise him with an elbow to this stomach. Β
βOw!β Chris yelps rather dramatically.
Before he can distract you again, you throw the ball down the lane with practiced ease. You watch as the ball knocks down a few pins. It doesnβt strike, but itβs solid. You turn around and find Chris has his tongue poking his cheek, unimpressed.
βSo youβve been secretly training, huh?β he says as he takes a step back.
You coyly shrug and confidently say, βMaybe Iβve just always been better than you.β
That seems to rile him up in the best way. He scoffs, grabs his ball, and lines up. βWatch and learn.β
The ball veers just slightly off, clipping pins instead of knocking them clean. Not terribleβbut not impressive either.
You raise your hands and feigning tremor. βWow. Iβm shaking.β
βRelax,β he says, waving you off. βIβm warming up.β
Between turns, he gets bold. He leans forward as heβs selecting a ball with more focus than when he throws it. His eyes flicking up to yours as he smirks and says, βMy formβs gotten really good over the years, you know. Endurance, controlββ
You cut in with a snort. βAnd you think that would help?β
His hand stops on a ball. βYeah.β
βHelp you with what?β you ask while daringly staring into his eyes.
Chris smirks. He looks down at the ball he chooses, slowly slipping his fingers into the holes and lifts itβ muscles flexed, veins strained across his arms. βWith my bowling performance, of course,β he says innocently.
You look away, facing the lane to not entertain him further.
He positions himself on the lane, ready to take his turn. But before that, he looks over his shoulder and says, βGet your head out of the gutter.β
You roll your eyes but your cheeks warm anyway.
He throws the ball and it glides straight toward the pins but somehow, by some unexplained phenomenon, the ball turns sideway and into the gutter. When he turns around with his hands on his head, wincing.
You get up from your seat and say his words back to him. βI think youβre the one who should get your head out of the gutter.β
Chris only grins as he watches you take your turn. You step upβonly for him to suddenly hold up a hand. βWait.β
You turn, annoyed. βIf youβre trying to sabotage meββ
He crouches down instead and reaches for your sneaker. Your protest dies as he ties your open shoelace. When he looks up at you, your eyes meet for a brief moment but enough for you to notice the way his expression softens, playful confidence melting into something deeper. Your heart stumbles but you school your face to keep neutral.
βCanβt have you blaming me when you trip,β he says lightly, standing.
You clear your throat and joke, βIβd still strike even when I tripped.β
Chris huffs an offended sigh. βYeah, sure.β
You throw the ball in confidence and to your surprise, you bowl a strike. You donβt even look back, but put on a triumphant smile and lift your arms in victory.
By the final frame, the score is undeniable.
Chris studies the screen, then sighs. βOkay. Fine. I lost.β
βAdmitting defeat? Wow, maturity looks good on you,β you tease with a grin.
He holds back a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. βDinnerβs on me.β
-
The diner feels exactly the same.
Same cracked vinyl booths. Same faint smell of grease and coffee. Same low hum of conversation layered with clinking plates. You slide into the booth across from Chris, and before the food even arrives, youβre already bickering.
βI still think the lane was crooked,β he says, stealing a fry from your plate.
βYou just canβt accept that I beat you fair and square,β you reply, swatting his hand away.
βYou distracted me.β
βYou distracted yourself.β
By the time your burgers arrive, the awkwardness has completely dissolved. Bowling did its jobβit cracked something open, loosened the years between you. You laugh easier now, tease without second-guessing, talk like the silence never stretched as long as it did.
The bell above the diner door jingles and a group of high schoolers pours in, loud and energetic, a few of them wearing the same blue-and-black varsity jackets from your old school. You lean back in your seat with a soft sigh as the memories rush in all at once.
Chris notices it too. Youβre both watching the same thingβthe way they crowd into a booth, talking over each other, laughing like time is endless.
βThings were easier back then,β you murmur.
He nods. βYeah.β
Then he glances at you. βWell, not all things.β
You smirk. βYour math struggles, for one.β
He groans. βThat will never get easier.β
You laugh, the sound light and warm.
Chris looks back at the group, expression thoughtful now. βThey donβt know it yet,β he says quietly, βbut this is probably the best time of their lives.β
You nod, feeling it settles in your chest. Youth. Blissful ignorance. The way everything feels big and small at the same time. Not caring about anything but the present.
There are so many questions hovering on your tongueβabout him, about that night on the boulder, about the years in betweenβbut you swallow them down. At least, not here. Not yet.
Instead, you smile at him over your fries. βWant to take a trip down memory lane?β
His grin spreads slowly, knowing exactly what you mean. βIβd love a trip down memory lane.β
-
Chris keeps one hand on the wheel as he drives while you talk about running into Aaron at the tech expo, about how surreal it felt to see someone from high school in a place so far removed from where you all started. You mention Celiaβs baby shower and meeting more people you know from school, the reminder that some people grow in entirely new directionsβand some stay achingly the same.
He listens quietly, attentive in that way heβs always had. βSo,β he says suddenly, glancing over at you, βwhatβs changed about me?β
You almost laugh. Internally, the answers come too fastβbroader shoulders, stronger build, the way age has settled into him in a way that only made him more attractive. The confidence. The steadiness.
But you donβt say any of that. Not when you know itβs going to make him cocky. Instead, you shrug. βYouβre less annoying.β
βThatβs a lie.β
βYou asked,β you say innocently.
Then you turn the question back on him. βWhat about me?β
He hums, thoughtful, eyes back on the road. For a moment, you think he might dodge it. βI think youβre the same,β he answers.
You stare at him, unimpressed. βThe same, huh?β
He smirks, finally looking your way. βI meanβyouβre still as beautiful.β
You groan, rolling your eyes. But inside, your heart flutters.
He laughs, clearly pleased with himself.
The car slows, then turns into the parking lot of the elementary school. The building looms ahead, quiet and dark, windows reflecting nothing but night. You get out of the car first, the quiet, slightly eerie atmosphere sending a faint shiver down your spine. Youβre still staring at it when you feel hands settle on your shoulders.
Chris drapes his jacket over you carefully, holding it open so you can slip your arms into the sleeves. His hands linger on your shoulders after, then sliding down your arms, smoothing the fabric. Whether itβs practicality or an excuse to touch you, youβre not sure, but you shiver anyway.
βThanks,β you murmur, turning your head slightly.
He smiles, then turns on the flashlight on his phone and leads the way. Together, you move past the playground, through the fence, into the woods behind the school.
-
The night is quiet. The trees whisper softly overhead. Shadows stretch longer, branches creak softly overhead, and the path you once knew by heart now feels uneven beneath your feet. You squint, stepping carefully, trying to remember where the ground dips and where the rocks hide.
Chris glances back at you, amused. βYou know, maybe your eyesightβs getting worse. Old age and all.β
You scowl at him. βIβm not old.β
βUh-huh,β he hums. βYou just sound like it.β
You open your mouth to retort but your foot catches on a rock. You stumble forward, already bracing yourself for the fall, but Chrisβs hand is there instantly, reaching back for you. You donβt hesitate to take his hand, fingers curling around his without thinking.
βCareful,β he murmurs, tightening his hold and guiding you forward now, slowing his pace to match yours.
Youβre following the pull of his hand through the dark, every step made easier by the warmth grounding you. The woods donβt seem so intimidating anymore. The night feels softer, held at bay by the simple fact that heβs here.
The boulder finally comes into view, just as rough, as big and as stubborn as you remember.
You shine the light over its surface and there, carved into the stone, are two sets of initials. Yours. And his. Uneven, shallow in places, worn by time but itβs there. From the day you graduated. From the day everything felt both ending and just beginning.
You step closer, fingertips brushing over the grooves. The rock is cold beneath your touch, but the memory is warm and immediate. You trace the letters slowly, like recalling a moment from the past.
You smile as you let go and walk around to the other side. The city stretches out below you, lights scattered like constellations fallen to earth. Itβs still breathtaking. Still mesmerizing. Still exactly the same in the ways that matter.
You barely have time to take it in before you feel hands grip your waist. βChrisβ!β
You softly gasp as he lifts you off the ground, carries you like itβs nothing, and sets you on top of the boulder. You grab onto his shoulders instinctively, laughing breathlessly as you steady yourself.
He exhales dramatically when he lets go. βYouβre heavier now.β
You fix the hem of your dress. ββ¦Thanks?β
He grins, completely unapologetic, then hops up after you without any trouble at all, settling beside you and dusting his hands together like he didnβt just manhandle you.
You eye his right leg and carefully ask. βIs your knee okay? You made that look way too easy.β
βNah, itβs fine,β he says simply.
You nod, accepting his answer as it is and look ahead, to the view of the city. The quiet feels comfortable as the two of you sit there, feet dangling, city lights glowing below.
After a while, you sigh. βYou were right,β you say softly. βEven after all these years, itβs still beautiful.β
You glance at him and his eyes already on you, smiling. βI know Iβm right,β he says.
You hesitate, then inhale air to finally ask, βWas it hard?β
He looks at you. βWhat?β
βThe injury,β you clarify and hesitate when you continue the sentence. βAnd retiring early.β
He nods once and twice, like heβs forming and calculating words in his head first before speaking. βYeah. At first. Physical therapy sucked. Losing what I thought my future would be sucked more.β
He softly exhales air and then shrugs lightly. βBut I realized I was lucky. I can still walk. I can still use my body. I still get to be on the fieldβeven if itβs not the same way.β
He looks at you and offers a faint smile even though heβs the one whoβs needing the consolation. βIβm glad Iβm still here.β
You canβt imagine yourself in that position, getting forced to give up your dream when youβve barely begun. But you smile anyway because Chris doesnβt give up on himself. Because thatβs who he is. He doesnβt stay broken. He adapts. He finds a way forward.
Then he looks at you and asks gently, βWhat about you?β
You quietly swallow air. βWhat about me?β
βI heard about the broken engagement.β
You always knew youβre fooling yourself when you convince yourself that he wouldnβt know. Everyone knows. Why wouldnβt he?
βI think it wasnβt meant to be,β you say quietly and decide not give too much details about it. βIβmβ¦ way past it now.β
He studies you, seeing the cracks beneath the words. βThat mustβve been hard.β
Your throat tightens. You close your eyes for a second, then nod. βIt was. I trusted him with everything.β
Itβs just something about Chris that makes you vulnerable without you intend to. Your voice wavers as you honestly share, βAt one point, it made me think I donβt deserve love at all.β
His hand comes to the small of your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles. βThatβs not true.β
You shake your head, eyes burning and you feel a lump forming in your throat.
βYou shouldβve come to me,β he says softly.
You lift your head just slightly. Your voice strained as you tell him, βI did. A few times.β
His brows knit together. βYou did?β
βI came to your matches,β you whisper as you look at him. βBut I justβI just couldnβt do it.β
βWhy?β
The lump now feels like a hot coal in your throat. The tears come then, unstoppable. He doesnβt rush you. Just pulls you closer, keeps rubbing your back as you cry.
βBecause I was the one who convinced you to take the offer,β you sob.
It hurts to admit the guilt thatβs been haunting you for years now. βAnd you got injured. You had to retire. Itβs all my fault.β
βNoββ
You cut him off, voice broken and trembling. βI shouldβve trusted you. You knew what you wanted. I shouldβve let you choose.β
Your chest aches as tears keep streaming down your face, hot and full of sadness. βI canβt forgive myself for it.β
You cry harder that your body starts shaking, and he wraps his arms around you tightly, like he canβt stand the distance between you and him anymore.
βHey, itβs not your fault,β he says firmly, over and over.
βYou might had been the one suggested it but I was the one making the decision. I chose it. I lived it. Iβm okay. You didnβt ruin anything.β
When you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes swollen and wet, you whisper, βThatβs why I couldnβt reach out. I just thought that Iβ¦ I didnβt deserve you anymore.β
He smiles softly, heartbreakingly gentle, and wipes your tears away with his knuckles. βWhat makes you think that?β
He gently pushes you away just enough to allow him to look at you and make you look back at him. βIβm the one who doesnβt deserve you. Look at you, youβre brilliant. Youβre smart, youβre successful, youβre doing what youβre passionate about.β
Your heart shakes at his genuine praises and words because you know he meant it. But you shake your head away.
βIβm so afraid of stepping back into your life because Iβm justβ¦ me,β he says as heβs wiping fresh tears rolling down your cheek. βAnd itβs hard no to because the truth isβ¦ I canβt stop loving you.β
He smiles as he cradles the side of your face, eyes locked in a soft gaze with yours as he continues. βSo what Iβve been doing all these times is just waiting.β
You shake your head lightly while swallowing your cries.
βWaiting for you,β he says with warmth and certainty in his eyes. βTo run back to me.β
All these years. He waited. For you.When you thought you caused him this great loss. When you thought thereβs no second chance for you. When you thought that you donβt deserve love at all.
Your heart cracks open all over again as more tears flowing in both happiness and sadness. And everything in between. You clear your throat to set the record straight.
βJust so weβre clear, Iβm not reallyβ¦ running back to you,β you say while laughing weakly through tears.
Chris breaks into a grin and then chuckles. βLetβs not ruin the moment, yeah?β
Then he cups your jaw, his thumb warm against your skin. βAnd just kiss already.β
You laugh in both relief and joy. And you nod. βOkayβ
You donβt know who leans in first. You just know that when your lips meet, everything finally makes senseβthe years, the distance, the longing. It all collapses into this one earned, full, loving kiss. And it feels like coming home.
When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, breaths still uneven. Something inside you feels⦠lighter.
For years, guilt wrapped itself around your ribs, tightening every time you thought of him. It kept you at a distance. Told you to stay away. Convinced you that loving him meant ruining him, that reaching for him meant taking something you didnβt deserve and nowβ¦ itβs gone.
Cracked open, dismantled by his arms around you, by his voice telling you heβs been here all alongβwaiting, steady, choosing you every time even when you werenβt brave enough to choose yourself.
You donβt know what beginning looks like. You only know that this time, youβre not walking away.
This time, youβre ready to start againβwith him.
-
You unlock the door, step inside and before it can even close behind you, you turn, grab Chrisβs hand, and pull him with you.
He laughs softly, surprised but not resisting, letting you drag him through the house and up the stairs, your footsteps hurried, hearts racing. You donβt stop until youβre in your bedroom, donβt bother closing the door.
Then you turn on your feet and meet his eyes. The air shifts almost immediately.
You face each other, standing still now, and your eyes lock in a soft, heated gaze. A smile slowly booms on his face and you feel your chest swell in response. Everything about him feels close. Wanted. Home.
He places his hands on each side of your waist, pulling you in until thereβs no space left between your bodies. One hand lifts, cupping your cheek, thumb tenderly caressing your skin, and you lean into his touch without thinking.
You donβt speak but quietly savoring the way he tenderly holds you, touches you, looks into your eyes like heβd find every answer to life in them. Then his gaze drops to your lips and it only lasts for a second until he canβt help himself anymore to lean in and kisses you.
He kisses you slowly, gently like youβd break if does too hard. But the restraint doesnβt last. The kiss deepens, heat blooming between you as his arms tighten, as the moment finally gives in to everything youβve been holding back.
He guides you backward, step by step, until you laugh breathlessly and stop him, pulling away just enough to catch your breath.
βYou remember the rules,β you murmur with a faint smirk.
He blinks with mouth still parted open, lips wet and red. βRules?β
βNo outside clothes on the bed.β
He grins the second he catches the real meaning of it. βThen Iβll just take them off.β
Chrisβ grin turns wicked as he leans in once more for a rough, open-mouthed kiss like his intention is to steal all of the air out of your lungs.
Without letting go of the kiss, you run your hands down his front. Your movement are frantic and impatient as youβre feeling his body through the layers of fabric. You need more so youβre tugging at the hem of his sweater, breaking the kiss to take it off of him, only to see the white tank heβs wearing underneath. But God, the bulging biceps, the pecs and the way his skin reddening around the neck β have you biting your lips in want. So much want.
Itβs obvious that Chris can see it and senses that you need to see more. He removes his white tank, baring his upper body, muscles in all the right places wrapped in soft, pale skin. In confidence, he takes your hands and puts them on the flat of his stomach.
You donβt move at first until a beat later, you canβt resist but trail the outline of abs with your fingers, feel the ridges, the hardness under your fingertips. You sigh in awe and admiration because you just can't comprehend how beautiful he is, itβs almost godly.
An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close until youβre pressed against his body. He leans in, bringing his mouth close to your ear.
βLet me take your dress off for you,β he whispers, voice low and sultry.
Air caught in your throat but you give him the permission with a slow nod. You keep yourself pressed to him as he reaches for the zipper on the back of your dress. You feel the tug and thenβ the sound of the zipper opening feels so loud against the heavy silence and mounting tension in the room.
Chris hooks his fingers under the fabric and slowly tear the dress off of you, pulling it down to your waist. He lets it fall until itβs pooling around your ankle and when you look up, you find his eyes looking down at you, staring at you with a mix of lust and affection, want and need and everything in between.
He puts both arms around you once more until your bodies pressed tight against each other. He crashes his lips against yours as his hands roaming around your back, one hand tracing down your spine before it goes lower, finding the softness of your ass cheek. He spread his fingers, palm scooping the flesh before gently squeezing on it.
You gasp into the kiss and retaliate by reaching for the waistband of his jeans, working them open without looking, without letting go of the kiss. But you only get as far as opening the fly as he begins to steers you until your back meet the edge of the desk.
Chris slips his hands into your panties, hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down your legs. At the same time, heβs lowering himself until his knees are on the floor. You lift your feet one by one, letting him to finally get rid of it.
Then, you see it. The way his eyes widen and canβt stop staring at whatβs in front of him. You notice him swallows air, Adamβs apple bobbing slowly in his throat at the sight of your bare sex merely inches away from his mouth. He tilts his head, looking you through his lashes, a look that seeks permission from you. You look into his eyes and give him the subtlest of nod in response.
However, Chris doesnβt rush. He begins by leaning in, placing light yet searing kisses that trails up your thighs. A hand gently grabs your leg by the calf and lifts it. Then he holds it there as he places more kisses on your inner. Your breath catches as his mouth inching closer to where you want him the most.
The second his mouth finally makes contact with your arousal β you gasp and grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself. First, his hot tongue slides in between your folds. His lips on your clit next, softly kissing at it. Then, you feel the tip of his tongue circling, pressing on it β making you grip the desk tighter.
He doesnβt hesitate to dive into your wetness, planting his mouth deeper into you and slowly, he raises your leg and puts it over his shoulder, allowing him more space to please you.
You gasp, one hand flies to his hair, feeling the way he opens his mouth wider to take more of you. You feel everything all at once β the slick tongue, the wet mouth, the full lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves.
βChrisββ you shriek, hand tugging at his hair harder as he sucks too hard.
Soon enough, you begin to follow the rhythm, rolling your hips against his mouth to seek more of him on you. Youβre lowly moaning in reaction, feeling so aroused at how good he makes you feel that you start touching yourself. One hand reaches to your back, unclasping your bra until it snaps open.
You recklessly toss the bra aside. You waste not time but cupping your breast in your hand, fingers teasing the hardening nipple that adds to the building pleasure inside you. You glance down β Chris is tirelessly pleasing you with his mouth, eyes closed and mouth humming against your sensitive skin in delight. Your eyes flick lower only to notice that his other hand disappeared into his jeans, moving in up and down motions.
The sight arouses you more, the knot inside you tightens, your body is hot all over. Before you can process everything that is happening at the moment, he decides to surprise you by sucking hard on your clit.
βOh, myβ¦ Chrisβ¦β you moan between your whines and whimpers of pain, of pleasure. You donβt know anymore.
He refuses to let go until your legs are shaking around him, your noises no longer coherent and your essence floods his mouth. When he finally does, you let out a whine from the loss of contact. He quickly compensates by kissing your inner thigh and continues the trail of kisses upward, to your abdomen, to the valley between your breasts and sideway, to take your breast into his mouth. His lips wrapped around your nipple, mouth latches on it for quite a moment before finally let go, leaving it wet his saliva.
Slowly, he rises and back on his feet. His body towering over you now, covering you with his heat. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you until youβre pressed against him, breasts squashed between chest and yet, when he's about to steer you to bed, you stop.
βWait,β you say, still panting.
His hand stays there on the dip of your waist. βWhat is it?β
βI donβt think I packed condoms with me,β you mutter, an eyebrow raised in slight panic.
Chris only grins and tenderly brushes your hair away from your face. βIβve got it,β he says.
He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, taking out a condom tucked in the compartment of his wallet, holding it between his fingers as he shows it to you.
βOnly one?β you ask, eyebrow raised yet again.
He takes a step forward, closing the last few inches between your bodies. βAnd we're going to make good use of it,β he confidently says.
He hastily kisses your open mouth and grins when he pulls away. He takes a step back to remove his jeans, fingers hooked on the waistband as he tugs them down his legs.
You just stand there, slightly leaning against the desk as you watch him revealing himself until itβs just him β bare, solid, real. Heβs got muscles in the right places, abs that looks like itβs sculpted by the finest sculptor, the veins coiled around his arms and legs β all of it wrapped in miles and miles of soft, pale skin. You donβt even try to hide the way your eyes sweep over him in admiration and lust.
But what got you biting your lower lip in want is the thing between his legs, the way itβs erected toward you, inviting you to touch, to feel how stiff it is in your hand.
βLike what you see?β he asks, confidence and amusement entwined in that dimpled grin of his.
βVery,β you shortly answer, not taking your eyes away from his swollen member.
Chris only chuckles and plops onto the edge of the bed, a hand reaches for you. once he gets a hold of your waist, he gently pulls you until youβre standing between his legs. He doesnβt wait to plant his mouth on your abdomen, kissing the skin there.
You giggle when he begins rubbing his nose and lips against your belly. Youβre uselessly trying to stop him by gripping his shoulder. βChris, that tickles. Stop!β you weakly protest, still giggling.
He eventually stops with a chuckle and this time, when he pulls you in, he helps you get onto his lap. Once youβre settled, he wraps his arms around you, drawing you close until your faces are merely inches away. He brushes your hair to the side and holds it there as if he needs to see your whole face without any distraction.
A beat later, his hand moves to your chin. He turns your head to the side and then to the other. When he turns you back to face him, he solemnly hums and then says, βYouβre not that bad.β
You break into laughter and put your arms around his shoulders. You look down at him as you say, βAnd you think youβre that good, huh?β
He tightens his hold and confidently says, βI know Iβm good.β
βBetter put on that condom quick,β you say, eyes briefly glancing down at his hardening cock under you. βCause I need a proof.β
That seems to trigger him as he moves right away, bringing the packet to his mouth to tear the foil. You scoot a little to the back, giving him space to properly roll the rubber down his length. His movement easy, unhurried like heβs done this plenty of times already. And maybe he did.
In that moment, a thought forms in your head, an envy filled thought: You donβt want anyone to feel his lips, his warmth, his body ever again. Except you.
-
Outside, the world stays quiet. Inside, everything finally aligns.
Chris steadily holds you by the waist as he helps you easing yourself down on him. His grip firm, brows knitted in utter focus, eyes centered on the way youβre taking him in little by little.
βOh, so goodβ¦β he breathless says, a vein on his forehead is evident as he concentrates hard.
You grip his shoulders, whimpering as you feel the blunt tip of his cock stretching you, penetrating deeper and deeper into you. You close your eyes like it would help you feel him better and, in a way, it did. He feels good, overwhelmingly so.
He rubs the side of your thigh as he sighs and softly murmurs, βI know you can take more of me, yeah?β
Your brain is too foggy to compute words so you nod instead. And you will take more of him without him needing to ask for it. You want more of him, more of that hot and pulsating hardness inside you.
βYouβre doing so well,β he murmurs, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes.
The second heβs fully buried inside you, you melt into him and heβs more than eager to take you, wrapping you in his solid, warm hold. Just the slightest movement is enough to make you feel his whole size inside you. You feel it as you draw yourself closer to him.
βOh, you feel so perfect,β he whispers as he presses a rough kiss on your neck.
His hand glides to the back of your neck, taking a fistful of your hair and gently tugging at it to tilt your head, making you facing him.
Through your half-lidded eyes, you can see him staring at you in both lust and affection, his other hand frames your face with thumb caressing your heating cheek. Then he rests his forehead against yours.
βYouβre so perfect for me,β he murmurs, breathy and sultry. His lips curl in a faint smile.
Heat curls low in your stomach and at the same time, your heart flutters hearing those words coming out of his beautiful mouth. It feels wrong to not kiss him for that so you do. It feels even better when he returns the kiss just as eagerly.
For a moment, the two of you stay like that. Lips locked in a kiss, arms around each other, skin rubs against skin, bodies connected as one. None of you move yet but the sparks turn brighter and hotter.
When youβre ready, you begin rolling your hips back and forth at first, alternating it with slow, circular motions. You gasp as you feel more of him inside of you, engorging the more you stimulating it.
You lean back just lightly to chase that right angle, just so his tip can nudge the right spot and continue moving in that position. You set a steady rhythm with one hand holding his shoulder for support.
βSo perfect,β Chris murmurs against the skin on your shoulder.
He drags his mouth lower until he finds your soft mounds, tongue darting out to tease your nipple. He doesnβt hesitate to take a mouthful of your flesh in his mouth, sucking hard on it just enough to leave a blooming mark on it.
His hands move to palm both of your breasts, kneading on them before pushing them to the middle. He leans in, sucking both nipples at once with his greedy mouth. At one point, he decides to latch on one breast and sucks on it a little too hard. He ignores your whimper and tugging at it, only letting go as he slowly pulling away.
βChrisββ you breathlessly scold, gripping tightly at his shoulders.
But he only smirks in response. His arms pulling you close until thereβs no an inch of gap left between your bodies. He tilts his head, looking up at you, letting you see the searing desire flickering in his eyes.
You rest your forehead against him as you continue moving, bouncing on his lap, his cock slipping in and out of you in a way that makes you aware the fullness he provides with his size.
βIβm surprised you know how to fuck,β he teases, a crooked grin decorated his face.
βExcuse you?β you say in disbelief.
Chris chuckles at that as he glides his hands lower to the curve of your asscheeks, palming and grabbing at the flesh.
Β βI know how to fuck,β you continue with a sly smile. βIβve read books.β
He scoffs an amused laugh and surprises you by landing slaps on your ass. βDo it right then,β he playfully says.
The slaps sting for a brief moment but somehow it encourages you to keep moving, bouncing on him more. You kiss him as you add speed and intensity to your movements. You know youβre doing it right as he starts groaning into your mouth.
However, itβs you whoβs tethering on the edge first. You stop thinking about what works and just following what your body wants β chasing that heat that makes the knot inside you tighten and tighten until it snaps.
A high-pitched moan escapes your mouth and Chris catches you as you free fall into the depth of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Your head nestled in the crook of his neck as he holds you close and tight. Youβre still catching your breath when you hear him softly smiling into your ear.
βSo perfectβ¦β he murmurs, followed with a press of kiss to your jaw. ββ¦Coming for me like that.β
-
The bed takes you in gently as he lays you down.
Chirs gives you time for you to relish your high and gather your senses, allowing your body to recalibrate from the intensity of what just happened. He hovers above you, burying his mouth in your neck to kiss you there. He lifts his head just enough to look at you, hand tenderly puts away the strands of hair covering your face.
βYouβre so beautiful,β he praises with adoring eyes.
Even with your mind still hazy, your heart flutters anyway. You smile and lift your head to give him a quick kiss on the lips.
He continues to admire you by placing little, searing kisses on you. On the collarbone, your sternum, the soft skin under your breast, your left ribcage, your hip, on the navel, on the patch of hair covering your sensitive bit, on your inner thigh, your knee, the side of your calf, your ankle and finishes it with a longer kiss on the sole of your foot.
You breathe a soft giggle at the feel of his soft, plush lips. Soft, warm and a little ticklish. Yet you feel so admired, worshipped by him. And when he rises on the bed to take a look at you, he looks at you like youβre a wonder of the world. You smile, a smile so wide that your cheeks hurt.
When he positions himself on you, you part your legs for him, eagerly welcoming him. He smiles at that, an appreciative kiss placed on your abdomen. Youβre still quivering, still wet that he has no problem slipping his cock into you again. You gasp as he hums in delight. This time, groan spills out of his mouth as he pushes himself deep into you.
He glances down and groans again at the sight of your entrance stuck tightly around his delicious girth, wetness lathering his hot, stiff length. His hardness enveloped in your warm, velvety walls.
When his eyes meet yours again, theyβre dark and full of want. His hands reaching for yours, slipping his fingers and laces them together, pining them above your head as he settles himself on top of you. He stills for a moment, adjusting himself to the feel of you that overwhelms him.
A moment later, he starts moving. Heβs thrusting into you slowly, steadily. Like adding a little speed would have him losing it right away. His forehead pressed against you, warm breath brushing your lips as he lowly groans in pleasure.
You lift your legs, allowing him more depth and hook them around his hips. You donβt hold back from muttering how you feel to him. How good he feels, how beautiful he is, how this whole thing makes you feel. But they turn incoherent the moment he quickens his thrusting.
Eventually, you move together like you already know howβlike your bodies remember what your minds spent years trying to forget. Thereβs no rush. Just hands finding skin, mouths latched, breaths mingling until itβs hard to tell where one of you ends and the other begins.
Chris groans and grunts, they turn louder as he tirelessly chasing his high. His hold tightens. You hold onto him just as tightly, fingers curling into his back, into his shoulders, needing something to hold on to as he takes you right to the edge again. Itβs passionate but itβs also tender.
At time, he watches you, checks in with you without words, and you realize how deeply you trust him. How easily your body yields because your heart already has. Loving again feels terrifying, standing on the edge of something that once broke you but with him, it doesnβt feel reckless. It feels chosen.
As you move together, chasing for that highs together, itβs like falling in love all over againβslow and fast at once, familiar yet new. Years of longing collapse into this shared heat, this understanding that neither of you is leaving this time.
When you come around him and he follows right after, the world softens around you. You stay wrapped in each other, reveling in this tender moment that is belong only to you and him. Then he kisses you, rough and deep and knowing. And you kiss him back just as passionately. When you pull back, you rest against him, safe and open, knowing with a certainty that steadies you to your core:
Chris would never hurt you and loving him doesnβt feel like a risk.
It feels like coming home.
-
The room is quiet in the way only late nights can be.
Chris lies on his back with one arm wrapped around you, holding you close, your head resting on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear. His other hand drifts idly through the ends of your hair, gentle and grounding. Your eyes fluttering close when he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
He sighs, the sound warm and almost amused. βI canβt believe Iβm back in this room.β
Youβre too comfortable to open your eyes, too snug against him to form words, so you just hum in response.
βYou know this bedroom used to give me PTSD, right?β
That makes you lift your head immediately. You glare at him. βExcuse me?β
He laughs, raising his hands in surrender. βBecause this is where you taught me. Scolded me when I didnβt get it. Smacked me when I got answers wrong.β
βIn my defense, you deserved all of that,β you say firmly with a smirk tugging at your lips.
He clicks his tongue. βNah. You were just violent.β
You donβt think but land a gentle slap on his chest in protest.
He yelps dramatically, clutching the spot like heβs mortally wounded. βSee? Still the same.β
Despite his complaining, he pulls you back in tighter when you settle against him again, like he never intended to let you go. Your leg tangles with his, and thatβs when you feel the faint indentation around his knee, the scars left behind by surgeries and healing.
Your fingers trace it gently. βDoes it hurt?β you ask softly.
He puts his hand over yours. βNot anymore,β he simply answers.
Then he guides your hand upward, bringing it close to his mouth to kiss it before placing it over his heart, holding it there. You feel the steady rhythm beneath your palm and swallow, emotion tightening your throat.
Looking at him like this, you realize the truth with startling clarity. No one has ever come close. No one has ever made you feel this seen, this safe, this certain.
Heβs the one youβve been looking for all along and you donβt know why youβve wasted years on looking whatβs already in front of you.
Slowly, you lift yourself onto one elbow, turning to face him. βYou know, before I came home, I had a fight with my ex,β you quietly share.
He listens as he places a hand on the side of your head, eyes never leaving yours.
βHe was making all these excuses to justify his wrongdoing,β you continue, letting out a humorless laugh. βAnd one of the excuses is because he knows I was never certain of him.β
You shake your head as you recall the moment in your head. βAnd as much as I hate itβ¦ he was right. I wasnβt fully in it.β
Chris reaches up, running his fingers through your hair, keeping it from falling into your face.
βI know that for sure,β you admit softly, βthat my heart was never really his.β
Your gaze, your voice, your heart β they barely waver when you say it. βItβs always been yours.β
His smile is slow, tender, overwhelming in its affection. He leans up and kisses you in a long and lingering kiss, like heβs trying to capture this moment with a kiss. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.
βAnd you know my heart will always be yours too,β he softly mutters with a smile that is just as bright as his eyes.
βAnd I know itβs too late but Iβd like to take that offer,β you say, eyes affectionate and hopeful.
He looks at you, his stare deepens as he frames the side of your face with his hand. His thumb lazily rubbing your cheek. βTo stay close to each other?β
You nod, putting your hand on his and lean into his touch. You close your eyes to savor the warmth, the tenderness in his touch. After a while, you open your eyes and add, βIf youβll still have me.β
His hand moves to your jaw, his thumb now swiping across your lips. βYouβre the only one I want,β he says so certainly like itβs his purpose in life.
Hearing him saying that made the years of wait insignificant. Hearing him saying that assured you that he long this as much as you. The smile that blooms on your face is immediate and warm. Your heart squeezes in the softest way inside your chest.
He smiles as he lifts his head to give you a quick, gentle kiss on the lips. When he pulls away with his lips still lingering inches away from yours, he says it.
βI love you.β
The words hang in the air for what feels like eternity. No, itβs not because you donβt love him back but because youβve been waiting years to hear it again with that voice, that gaze, the intensity of his feelings projected through those three words.
You echo those words back to him, breathless and sure. βI love you.β
This time, you lean in first, kissing him with everything you haveβlove, promise, certainty woven into the press of your lips.
And you know, without doubt, that you wonβt waste this chance again.
-
Morning comes softly.
Youβre in the kitchen, barefoot on cool tiles, scrambling eggs in a pan and trying very hard not to burn them when you hear footsteps upstairs.
A moment later, Chris appears at the bottom of the stairs, tugging a sweater on as he comes down. His hair is a mess of soft curls, eyes still heavy with sleep, face bare and bright. He looksβ¦ beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sneaks up on you when youβre not trying to look and you smile without even realizing it.
He comes up behind you, wraps an arm around your side, and presses a quick kiss to the top of your head. βMorning,β he murmurs, voice low and rough.
βMorning,β you reply, eyes still on the pan.
βNeed help?β
βIβm almost done,β you say and turn off the stove. βBut can you grab the orange juice from the fridge?β
βOn it,β he says immediately.
Soon enough, the two of you are seated at the dining table with plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon between you. You sip your orange juice, watching him eat. His mouth full of food, a hand holding a toast and the other scraping the scrambled egg with a fork, eyes half-lidded like he hasnβt fully woken up yet.
You canβt stop smiling. You have a sip of your coffee and ask, βSo, whatβs the plan for today?β
He swallows his food first before talking. βIβve actually got a meeting about a job offer.β
You nod as you take a bite of your toast. βWhat time will you be done?β
βNot sure,β he says, then he gently places a hand on the small of your back and softly adds, βSorry.β
βItβs okay,β you assure him easily.
He looks at you, reaches out, and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. βIβll call you when Iβm done.β
You nod. βOkay.β
βAnd you? What are you doing today?β He asks. Then, teasingly he adds, βBeside waiting for me.β
You scoff at that and simply say, βI have a company to run.β
He narrows his eyes, mock-offended. βYouβre bragging.β
You shrug coyly and return to your breakfast.
He takes another bite of his toast, then sighs. βNo offense, but I kind of miss your momβs bread.β
βNone taken,β you say as you lean back and sigh. βI miss her bread too.β
βWhen will she come home?β
βNot sure,β you honestly answer. βBut I hope itβs soon.β
The two of you fall quiet after that, just chewing, looking at each other. No rush. No need to fill the space. When your eyes meet again, Chris is the first to smile. He reaches across the table, lifts your chin gently, and kisses you. When he pulls back, his grin is soft and familiar.
In that moment, you canβt believe that heβs here, with you, together. And that your lives will be forever intertwined from this moment on. You smile back at him, heart full.
Today couldnβt have started better.
-
The house quiets after Chris leaves with a kiss and a dimpled grin that you know a little too well.
You curl up on the sofa with your laptop balanced on your lap, just checking emails to stay updated but once the screen lights up, the weight settles back onto your shoulders. Nothing is on fire. Nothing is urgent.
Still, you call Lucy to make sure that the company is still running smoothly. She answers on the second right and launches right away, talking about important things happened in the company.
ββ¦And since Herman has that meeting with Palindrome, he has to cancel attending that Blue Wings conference.β
βOh, no,β you say, feeling bad because you know how much Herman has been anticipating to be a part of that conference. βHerman really wants to go to that.β
βYeah,β Lucy hesitantly says. βBut weβd rescheduled that meeting before so we canβt reschedule it again.β
You nod at that. Rescheduling not only means having no respect for the other company but also messing with the companyβs timeframe. You think of a solution fast.
βWhen is the meeting again?β You ask.
βItβs this Thursday,β Lucy says immediately.
This will be not your first time sacrificing your time and rest for your company. So without further consideration, you tell Lucy, βIβll go. Iβll attend the meeting.β
Lucy exhales softly. βDoes that mean youβre coming back to work sooner?β
βYeah,β you say, even though part of you resists the word. βI canβt let Herman skipped the conference again.β
She doesnβt argue but you hear the clacking sound of her typing onto the keyboard. βAlright. Iβll move things around and let Herman know.β
βMake sure he calls me before he leaves for the conference,β you add.
βSure, will do,β Lucy responds and then, softly she offers, βWant me to arrange your trip back?β
You shake your head even though she canβt see it. βNo, thank you. Iβll handle it myself.β
βOkay,β she says gently. βAndβtake care of yourself.β
βThank you, Lucy,β you reply, sincere. βSee you soon.β
βSee you soon.β
You hang up and close the laptop, letting it rest untouched on your lap. You still want to stay here. In this house. In this quiet. In the ease of mornings that donβt ask anything of you and nights that end with warmth instead of exhaustion. You want more time with Chris, more moments that feel like healing instead of surviving.
However, the truth sits with you just as stubbornly that you canβt keep abandoning your job. Not when people depend on you. Not when the company you built is still something you care deeply about.
You sigh, leaning back against the cushions, torn between two things you love. And for the first time, you realize the hard part isnβt choosing one over the other.
Itβs figuring out how to hold both.
-
Since you donβt have anything to do, nowhere to go. You end up doing chores around the house. You vacuum the living room, made lunch, do the laundry. By afternoon, youβre taking out the laundry out of the dryer. You put them into the basket and carry it upstairs to your room.
Youβre halfway through hanging clothes back into the closet, when you hear a car pulling out front. Β A smile spreads across your face before you can stop it. You cross the room and peek through the window just as he turns off the engine, stepping out of the car.
Chris looks up and catches you watching from your bedroom window. His grin comes instantly, dimple and all, like heβs been waiting for that exact moment.
A second later, your phone rings and you donβt even check whoβs calling.
βHey,β you softly say.
βCome down,β he says without preamble, amusement clear in his voice. βIβm taking you on a date.β
You laugh quietly. βYou donβt even know if Iβm ready.β
βIβll give you five minutes,β he replies easily.
You glance down at yourself, then back at the closet. βTen minutes,β you bargain because you need the extra time to put a little bit of color on your face.
βOkay, Iβll wait,β he says, grin audible even through the phone.
You hang up, heart light, and reach for the dress youβd just hung back up, pulling it off the hanger with a quiet laugh at yourself. Because apparently, you do have somewhere to go.
-
The neon lights reflect faintly on the polished floors as you stand shoulder to shoulder with Chris in front of a long wall of movie posters. He crosses his arms, studying them like itβs some kind of life-altering decision.
You tilt your head at him. βYou know itβs just a movie, right? Not a contract negotiation.β
He hums thoughtfully, squinting at one of the posters. βShh. This determines the emotional tone of our evening.β
You scoff softly but let him pretend heβs deliberating something monumental which reminds you to ask him about something. While heβs βanalyzing,β you nudge him lightly and ask, βSoβ¦ how was the meeting?β
He doesnβt look at you right away, still staring at the posters. βIt went well.β
βThatβs vague.β
Now he glances down at you, one corner of his mouth lifting into an amused half-smirk. βWell, they offered better pay than my previous team. Better facilities too.β
Your eyebrows rise genuinely. βThatβs great.β
βIt is,β he says calmly but then he inhales air and softly sighs. Then he calmly says, βBut I donβt want to rush. Iβm taking my time to decide.β
You nod at that. You donβt push or question him further. You believe that Chris knows what he wants for himself. So you just look at him for a second longer and softly say, βIβm sure youβll make the best decision for yourself.β
His expression shifts into something warm, something appreciative and he pulls you in for a quick kiss on your temple. Then he points at a pastel-colored movie poster with a title βBackward Loveβ.
βLetβs watch that one.β
You immediately wrinkle your nose, not pleased with his choice. βThat?β
He shrugs and coyly explains, βItβs romcom. Perfect for date night.β
You dramatically turn and point at the horror poster beside it with the main character is splattered with blood, eyes wide in terror as a masked killer looming behind her. βI want to watch this one.β
Chris looks at you like youβve just betrayed him. βAre you trying to give me nightmares?β
You shrug him off with an easy smile. βYouβre a big guy now. Iβm sure you can handle it.β
He leans closer, lowering his voice as he says, βI wonβt sleep well tonight if we watch that.β
You step closer too, slipping your arms loosely around his waist, your mouth near his ear and seductively whisper, βI know ways to make you sleep well tonight.β
You add a subtle, flirtatious wink at the end of the sentence and feel the way his body reacts before you even see his face change. He triesβtriesβnot to grin, not to get flustered. But you can see how his ears slowly reddening.
Chris abruptly steps back, putting space between you like youβre dangerous. He doesnβt say anything but walks fast toward the ticket counter.
You gasp in mock offense and hurry after him, sliding your arm around his waist from the side just as he reaches the front.
βTwo tickets for the βBackward Loveβ,β he tells the cashier.
You roll your eyes dramatically, but he just grins, pulling you closer with his arm now around your shoulders. βYouβre no fun,β you mutter.
βIβm trying to survive the night,β he replies under his breath.
Before you can protest again, he steers you toward the snack counter, his hand firm at your waist as he orders right away.
βOne extra-large butter popcorn, two packs of M&Ms and a sparkling cider, please?β
This time, when he looks at you, you give him a smile that tells him heβs the best thing thatβs happening to you.
-
The movie theater is still empty when you enter. But the second youβre both settled on your seats, you and Chris bicker over popcorn, over candy, over who gets the last handful of M&Ms. He steals from your side of the bucket without shame and you retaliate by claiming the armrest as your own. But when the lights finally dim, you lift the armrest between you.
He looks at you, amused. βWow. Bold move.β
You ignore him, slide closer, link your arm through his, and slip your hand into his. His fingers curl around yours immediately, warm and firm and sure. You settle in, heart calm in a way it hasnβt been in years.
When the romance on screen builds, when the characters finally kiss, you donβt drift into what-ifs this time. You donβt imagine. You donβt wonder. You already know.
You turn your head and find him looking at you, like heβs been waiting for this as well. You smile, lean in, and kiss him softly. He kisses you back just as easily, as sweetly.
When he pulls away, he murmurs, βFocus on the movie.β
You chuckle and stay tucked against him, the movie still playing but youβre barely watching it anymore.
Your attention keeps drifting back to him instead. The way his eyes stay fixed on the screen. The way he keeps shoving popcorn into his mouth like heβs competing with himself. The faint furrow in his brow when the plot gets serious. For a second, you canβt believe this man is yours. Without thinking too much about it, you lean in and press a slow, warm kiss to the side of his neck.
He stiffens immediately. βHey,β he whispers, half-scolding, half-amused. βIβm trying to watch.β
You only smile against his skin and when he turns his attention back to the screen, you do it again. This time you make a trail of kisses down his sharp jaw. Then you lean closer, lips brushing near his ear.
βLetβs stop by the pharmacy on the way home.β
That gets his full attention as he turns to you, brows knit with concern. βWhy? Are you sick?β
You smirk, eyes glinting in the dim light, and lean in again. βWe need to buy condoms,β you whisper, followed with a sneaky kiss on the column of his throat.
The way he freezes is almost impressive. He clears his throat, visibly flustered, and tries very hard to pretend it didnβt affect him. In a clearly desperate attempt to regain control, he grabs a handful of popcorn and pops a piece into your mouth.
You scoff a laugh around it, cheeks warm, and settle back against him in triumph. And the movie keeps playing, but your focus stays on him. Only him.
-
The car ride is quiet but charged in that comfortable, buzzing way that makes every little movement feel intentional than it should.
True to his word, Chris pulls into the pharmacy parking lot. The engine clicks off, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Then he unbuckles his seatbelt and looks at you.
βWait here, yeah?β he says.
You nod, eyes staring at him.
βDo you want anything?β he asks.
You shake your head. βIβm good.β
He starts to open the door, then pauses. His gaze lingers on you and you notice the subtle shift in him as he decides to lean in. His plush lips pressed against you for a quick, gentle kiss and as heβs about to pull away, your hand grips the side of his face.
You keep him there as you tilt your head to the side and deepen the kiss. You part your mouth open, just enough to slip your tongue into his mouth, twirling it with his. You can taste a hint of pineapple from the juice he drank earlier. So sweet, so unmistakably him.
When you feel him beginning to crack and kissing you back just as intensely. You move your hand to the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the tendrils of hair there. You keep your mouth open as he takes his turn to taste you, tongue coaxing yours to move together. A moan slipped past your mouth as he gently tugs at your lower lip and you retaliate by playfully biting at him tongue.
By the time you break the kiss, you see Chrisβs lips turn swollen and wet, flushing red like all the blood in his body is gathering there. His eyes find yours and his mouth quirks into a lazy grin.
βDonβt look at me like that,β he murmurs, taking your hand from his shoulder and holds it in his lap.
You let out a low chuckle, feigning innocence. βLike what?β
He exhales, already defeated, then leans in and kisses you, this time for a real quick kiss. When he pulls back, his hand stays on your jaw for a beat longer than necessary, thumb brushing your skin. His eyes hold yours, dark with want and fondness all tangled together. You can practically see him reining himself in.
βIβll be quick,β he says as he straightens, fixing the denim around his crotch. With that, he steps out of the car, and closes the door before he can be tempted again.
You watch him through the windshield as he walks into the pharmacy, moving easily down the aisles, scanning the shelves to find the one heβs looking for. Just watching him existing like this, so close, so realβmakes your heart flutter.
A few minutes later, he comes out of the pharmacy holding something in his hand. He walks across the lot with the kind of confidence that is not arrogant, but with certainty that he knows who he is and how to carry himself. He grins as he gets back into the car, settles into his seat and then promptly rips open the wrapper of a popsicle. He hands it to you.
You awkwardly take it and stare at it, confused. βUhβ¦?β
He smirks as he turns the keys in the ignition. βBecause you need to cool down.β
You break into laughter, shaking your head, and take a small bite of the popsicle.
He starts driving, pulling out of the parking lot with that dimpled grin still firmly in place.
And you sit there, enjoying the sweetness of the popsicle and this moment.
-
The second the lock clicks open, whatever restraint you both had snaps.
Chris doesnβt even give you time to step fully inside before heβs on you. His hands firm at your waist, mouth crashing against yours like heβs been holding back all night. The kiss is hard, deep, rough enough that it steals your breath, and it takes you a second to catch up, to kiss him back just as desperately.
Godβheβs been waiting for this.
You can feel it in the way he presses into you, solid and hot, the way his hands grip like heβs afraid of letting go. He barely breaks the kiss as he steers you inside, toeing the door shut behind you, guiding you toward the living room. You donβt stop until youβre both tumbling onto the sofa.
Heβs over you now, kissing you deeper, harder, all heat and hunger and full of want. Your fingers tangle in his sweater, heart pounding, the world narrowing down to thisβhim, you, breath and warmth and years of longing collapsing into one moment.
You reach under the sweater, feeling the hardness of his abs andβ
βHoney? Is that you?β
Your blood runs cold. Impulsively, you shove Chris hard enough that he stumbles sideways, losing his balance and landing on the floor with a startled grunt. You bolt upright on the sofa, smoothing your clothes in pure panic just as footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs.
Your mom appears. Sheβs here. Home. Very home.
βYes, itβs me. Hi, Mom,β you blurt out, far too fast.
Chris scrambles to his feet, running a hand through his hair, then offers a polite, slightly sheepish smile. βIβm here too. Hi.β
Her face lights up instantly at the sight of her favorite, charming guy. βOh, Chris!β she beams, completely bypassing you as she steps closer. βOh, my goodness. How nice it is to see you!β
You stand there, mortified, heart racing, while she treats him like the long-lost child whoβs finally come home. But thankful that your mom is no longer focused on how she caught you and Chris making out in the living room.
A moment later, you and Chris end up standing side by side, stiff and awkward, like two kids caught doing something they definitely shouldnβt have been doing.
Your mom, meanwhile, is completely unfazed. She chats with Chris like nothing happenedβasking how heβs been, how lifeβs treated him. He asks about her cruise trip, genuinely interested, and she launches into it with a fond smile, talking about the food, the views, how relaxing it wasβ¦ and how she missed her bakery terribly the whole time.
Then she looks at the two of you. She chuckles, shaking her head. βYou two donβt need to look so panicked. Youβre not teenagers anymore,β she says while still lowly chuckling in amusement.
You close your eyes for half a second, mortified but oddly relieved. And despite what she said, you indeed still feel like a teenager in front of her.
βIβm still exhausted from the trip home,β your mom says as she takes the first couple of steps. βIβm going to bed early tonight.β
βYeah, Mom. You must be tired,β you manage to say without stammering.
βYeah, youβd better rest,β Chris adds but it only adds to the awkwardness of this moment.
Your mom smiles as she takes a look at you and Chris again. Her eyes linger on him as she says, βWeβll catch up properly another time, Chris.β
βIβd like that,β he says warmly.
βGoodnight,β your mom says as she begins climbing the stairs.
You both wait until you hear the bedroom door closes upstairs before collapsing onto the sofa with identical sighs. A beat passes in silence and then you both burst out laughing at the exact same time.
You cover your face with your hands. βOh my God. That was so embarrassing.β
Chris groans as he looks at you. βYou shoved me so hard.β
βIβm sorry!β you say, still laughing. βDid it hurt?β
He rubs his knee dramatically. βI think I need to check my injured knee.β
You gently slap his knee. βStop being dramatic.β
βYouβre making it worse,β he complains, grinning.
You scoot closer, cup his jaw gently. βLet me kiss it better, then.β
You capture his full lips in a soft kiss and he immediately pulls you closer, one arm tightening around you. Before you realize it, heβs lifted you effortlessly so youβre sitting on his lap.
You break the kiss, breathless as you remind him. βChrisβmy mom is upstairs.β
He tilts his head, smug. βDidnβt you hear what she says? Weβre not teenagers anymore.β
You cave far too easily as he kisses you again. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, lips locking with his in a deep, heated kiss that slowly coaxing you to melt into him. You eventually let yourself get lost in the safety, in the warmth, in the comfort of his arms.
Chris pulls away with a low, sultry groan but he doesnβt let his mouth rest for a second as he buries his mouth on the low neckline of your dress, right there between your breasts. You feel the sharp inhale of air he takes, humming as he rubs his nose against your softness like he canβt get enough of your scent. He pulls back just enough to place a kiss on each of your breast before making a trail of kisses upward, to your chest and neck, and back on your lips.
When you break the kiss to catch a breath, you look down at him and catch the glints in his eyes under the dim light like he sees you as this ethereal being, like youβre a star that somehow lands on his lap. You gently cup his jaw and fondly smile as you stare into the dark brown of his eyes. God, heβs just so beautiful and yours.
He puts his arms around your waist, tightening them to draw you closer against him. He smiles back at you as he lowly mutters in disbelief, βYouβre so beautiful.β
Your smile grows wider and the smile doesnβt fade as he pulls you in for another kiss. A hand gently holds the back of your head, tilting it the way he pleases just so he can kiss you deeper, harder, the way heβs desired it to be. Until you feel nothing but the endless softness of his lips brushing against yours.
The two of you stay like that, enveloped in heat and affection, in the dim of the living room. Your shared breath and the occasional low sighs that escaped your lips are the only thing filling the silence.
After a moment, you slowly back away and hurriedly place a hand on his chest, ready to stop him if he goes in for another kiss. You use the chance to catch your breath and to talk about something youβve been meaning to share
βChris,β you softly call, brushing his curls out of his forehead. βI need to tell you something.β
He rests his hands on each side of your waist, all attention on you now. βWhat is it?β
βI have to attend this meeting that I canβt reschedule,β you calmly explain. βAnd it meansβ¦ I have to go back to work soon.β
His expression shifts just slightly. A hand moves to the small of your back, fingers splayed on your clothed skin. βWhen do you plan to leave?β
βThis Tuesday.β
He nods, processing, understanding. βOkay.β
You place a hand on his chest, index finger playing with the button on his shirt. βDo you want to come with me?β
Heβs clearly not expecting that but he answers without the slightest of hesitation. βYeah. Iβd love to.β
You smile, relief blooming in your chest. You cradle his face in both hands, pressing your forehead against him and then lean, kissing him with such loving.
He pulls back just enough to smirk and jokingly says. βYou invite me to come so you can brag about your company, mmh?β
You grin as you nod. βThatβs the one and only goal.β
He laughs as he tightens his hold around you again until thereβs no gap left between your bodies and kisses you again.
Honestly, you feel nervous about him getting to see another part of you but at the same time, youβre happy you get to share that part with him. And for the first time, it really feels like youβre moving forward together.
-
Tomorrow feels too soon, but itβs coming anyway. Youβre in your bedroom, suitcase open on the bed, folding clothes with a care you donβt usually give them.
Your mom wanders in quietly and sits at the edge of the bed without asking. She starts helping immediately by folding your clothes neatly, the way she always has.
βSo,β she says lightly, βyouβre leaving just as I get back.β
You chuckle softly. βYeah. Bad timing.β
You feel bad for not having much time to spend with your mom because thatβs one of the reasons you came home in the first place. βIf it wasnβt urgent, I wouldnβt want to go back so soon,β you explain, hoping sheβd understand.
βI know, honey.β She says as she looks up and fondly smiles at you. βAnd itβs okay.β
The room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by the rustle of fabric and the zipper of your suitcase. She hands you another folded shirt, and you tuck it away.
A bit later, she scoots closer to you and carefully begins, βSo, about you and Chrisβ¦β
βMomβ¦β you say, already expecting all kind of questions thatβll follow.
Your mom subtly shrugs and sweetly coaxes you. βI just want to know. Come on. Tell me all about it.β
You huff a laugh and pause, hands stilling for a moment. βWeβreβ¦ just starting so I canβt say much except that weβre trying to make it work. Heβs in between job offers. Iβm tied to the company.β
She intently listens while nodding. She helps you fits the stack of clothes into your suitcase. βThe most important thing is that youβre certain about how you feel,β she says.
βI am,β you shortly answer.
She looks at you, turning a little serious now. βAnd how do you feel?β
The question cracks something open in you. You havenβt had the chance to share what you truly feel about this with anyone or about anything about your love life for that matter. It seems like the right time to just be honest about it and talking to your mother always helps because she knows you the best.
βIβm happy. I really am,β you honestly share with a sincere smile. βIβm happy that Chris and I, we finally found our way back to each other.β
You take a second to organize your thoughts but your heart squeezes before you can even talk it out loud. With a slightly trembling voice, you share. βBut I canβt ignore that my past relationship still haunts me.β
Your eyes sting but you manage to hold yourself back from crying. βChris is the right one for me. I know that. I justββ
Your breath catches. βWhat if Iβm not the right one for him?β
The tears come before you can stop them. You quickly wipe them before they can even fall. βI love him so much but Iβmβ What if Iβ¦ messed it up?β
Your Mom gently pushes the suitcase aside and gets to your side, wrapping her arms around you and holding you while you cry. She gives you time to process your emotions, offering her comfort as she lands soothing rubs on your back.
βYou have nothing to be afraid of, honey,β she says softly. βIβve seen the way he looks at you. Long before you ever realized it yourself.β
You sniffle, listening to her while wiping your tears with the back of your hand.
βHe loves you very, very much,β she assures you as she puts her hand on the back of your head in fondness. βAnd you deserve that love.β
Itβs nice to finally hear it that yeah, you deserve it just as much as he deserves to be loved by you. You wanted this for so long and now you got it. Thereβs no wasting it away. You have to hold on tightly to it.
She brushes your hair back tenderly, eyes full of warmth, like youβre still her little girl who needs reassurance. Then she playfully adds, βAnd if he ever hurts you, Iβll break his other knee.β
You choke out a laugh through your tears. Your body shakes in both laughter and tears now.
She pulls you into another hug and wraps you in that familiar warmth and comfort. βAfter everything youβve been through, you deserve this. You really do,β she assures you once more.
In your momβs embrace, you decide to believe it. and you can almost feel that shift. You feel lighter and steadier, you feel more confident in your choices, in your heart, and in the love youβre finally allowing yourself to keep.
-
When you unlock the door to your apartment and push it open, you step inside like itβs nothing. You open the door wider as he drags along your suitcase in one hand and carrying his duffel bag in the other.
Chris steps in behind youβ¦ and stops. Heβs immediately in awe of the place youβre living in. The floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the living room, the city glowing beneath them. The marble kitchen island gleams under the soft recessed lights. The furniture is minimal yet finely curated, expensive without screaming about it.
You drop your bag on the console table casually. βCome on in,β you softly say.
He takes slow steps, slowly pulling your suitcase behind like heβs afraid that the wheels would scrape the shiny surface of the floor. He stops in the living room and then he lets out a low whistle. βOkay.β
You turn, leaning back against the back of the sofa. βOkay what?β
He gestures vaguely atβ¦ everything. βYou really made it.β
You try not to smile too proudly and take off your jacket. βWhat did you expect?β
βI donβt know,β he says, walking around the living room, looking around like heβs in a showroom. βMaybeβ¦ slightly less intimidating?β
You chuckle, folding your jacket in your arm. βIntimidating?β
He turns to you, grin spreading. βI now officially believe you when you say you run a company.β
βOh, so you didnβt before?β
βI thought you were exaggerating.β He squints at a framed award on the wall. βBut this? This is βCEO who schedules meetings at 7 a.m.β energy.β
You laugh, walking past him toward the kitchen. βIβll take that as a compliment.β
He wanders a little more before putting the suitcase and bag to your bedroom. He returns a moment later, settling his hands on his hips and turning to you. βSoβ¦ are you hungry?β
You hold the glass of water youβve sipped and nod. βYeah.β
βDo you have anything to cook?β he asks as he approaches you.
Not that you donβt have anything to cook which youβre sure you have. Or not. Your hesitation alone makes him suspicious.
He narrows his eyes slightly and heads straight for the fridge. You trail after him, already preparing your defense. He opens it and just stands there.
Thereβs almond milk. Half a bottle of sparkling water. A questionable container of something you ordered three days ago. A jar of pickles. One sad lemon.
He slowly closes the fridge and looks at you. βDo youβ¦ cook at all?β
You give him a small, sheepish smile. βI mostly order.β
He forces a thin smile as he asks again. βDo youβ¦ eat at all?β
βYes,β you answer a little too fast.
He just stares at you and you sigh under the weight of that stare. βWellβ¦ Sometimes I skip a meal or two.β
His jaw tightens in both disbelief and disappointment. βA meal or two?β
βOccasionally,β you mumble.
He rubs his face with one hand, exhaling deeply like heβs re-evaluating your entire lifestyle. βYou run a whole company but donβt have any food in your fridge.β
You quickly turn to the cabinet and swing it open triumphantly. You grab a pack of noodles, holding it with both hands with a proud smile. βI have instant noodles.β
He cranes his neck to see that there are at least six packs of them. He sighs heavier this time but reaches in and grabs two anyway.
βThis is not a balanced diet.β
βItβs classic and comforting,β you defend weakly.
βItβs sodium.β
You pout slightly and mumble, βBut Iβm hungry.β
He shakes his head but thereβs a fondness in it now. βI know. Which is why Iβm saving us from your CEO survival meals.β
He moves around your kitchen like he belongs there, filling a pot with water, turning on the stove.
You lean against the counter, watching him. βLet me help you.β
βYou can help me by sit there and look pretty,β he says, placing a hand on the small of your back to steer you toward the stool across the kitchen island.
Thereβs something gentle in the way he says it. you obey right away and watch him as he cooks something as simple as instant noodles like itβs a five-star meal, adding whatever he can find β an egg from the back of the fridge you forgot existed, some leftover green onions from takeout.
He looks comfortable like heβs already settled into your life without asking for permission and when he hands you a bowl, chopsticks balanced on top, he gives you that little grin.
βWe have to grocery shop properly soon.β
You hold the warm bowl between your hands and smile at him. βIβll put it on my schedule,β you say with a playful smile.
You donβt waste time to hold your chopsticks and when you take the first bite, you close your eyes dramatically. βOh my God.β
Chris looks at you like youβve lost your mind. βItβs just noodles.β
βThese are the best noodles Iβve ever had.β
He snorts as he picks up his chopstick. βI boiled water.β
βYou boiled it exceptionally well.β
βAnd added a seasoning packet.β
βAnd you did it perfectly.β
He shakes his head, amused, but heβs smiling that warm, dimpled smile that makes your chest ache in the best way.
You take another bite, humming in satisfaction, and he doesnβt eat right away. He just watches you. You notice it after a second.
βWhat?β you ask, noodles halfway to your mouth.
βNothing,β he says softly, but his expression says everything.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face before his palm settles gently at the side of your head. Admiring. Loving.
Your movements slow under his gaze. You swallow and smile at him. βWhy are you looking at me like that?β
βBecause,β he says quietly, thumb brushing just slightly against your temple, βyou look happy.β
You hadnβt realized it but you are. Youβre smiling without youβre telling yourself to. It justβ¦ happens.
He finally takes a bite of his own noodles, still smiling faintly. βNext time,β he adds casually, βIβll cook you something better. Proper dinner. With vegetables. Protein. All that adult stuff.β
Next time.
You like the sound of that more than you expect to. Not because of the food. But because it means there will be more nights like this. More of eating together side by side. More teasing. More him standing at your stove like he belongs there. More of him and you.
This moment is already tender but you tilt your head and decide to tease him anyway. βBut all that adult stuff doesnβt sound that appetizing.β
βBut itβll be good for you,β he persists with a gentle smile.
And as you sit there finishing instant noodles in your luxurious apartment with someone you love, you realize something quietly and completely:
This is what feels like making it.
-
Having someone in your bedroom feels⦠strange.
Youβre used to your bedroom being silent, untouched, perfectly arranged. Now Chris is there, pulling back the duvet, fluffing a pillow like heβs done it a hundred times before. But it doesnβt feel intrusive as you thought. It feels natural like heβs always belonged here.
You stand on your side of the bed and point firmly. βThis is my side.β
He pauses mid-pillow adjustment. βNoted.β
βThe right side. Itβs mine. You canβt cross it.β
He sighs dramatically. βTerritorial, huh?β
βVery.β
He walks around to the other side without argument, but before climbing in, he pulls his t-shirt over his head.
And obviously, you stare. The soft lamplight stretches across his shoulders, the defined lines of his back, the subtle flex of muscle as he runs a hand through his hair. He stretches his arms overhead, dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Your eyes trace the outline of his abs and lower to where his pelvic bones formed the V shape that narrows down toβ
You swallow air and then let it out in a scoff. βShow off,β you mutter under your breath.
He definitely heard you and thatβs why heβs smirking. But he asks anyway, βWhat?β
βNothing.β
He slides into bed, settling against the pillows like this is his place too while you turn off the lamp and climb in on your side, pulling the blanket up. For a moment, you both just lie there.
The bed feels different. Fuller. Warmer. Itβs incredible how a single presence can change the entire atmosphere of a room.
You turn your head to the side and find him lying on his back, eyes closed. Even his facial features look just as beautiful in the dark. The side profile, the slope of his nose, the shape of his plush lips, the sharp jaw.
Oh, you just canβt stand being so far from him when heβs lying next to you like this so you scoot closer and closer until youβre pressed against his side, seeking his warmth instinctively.
He lets out a soft protest and groans with eyes closed. βHey. This is my side. You declared borders.β
You murmur against his shoulder, βItβs my apartment, my bed. I can do whatever I want.β
He sighs like heβs exhausted by you, but his arm lifts anyway, opening for you. You slip under it immediately, resting your head on his bicep. He adjusts, pulling you closer until youβre tucked against him properly.
The silence that settles after is comfortable and nice. The kind that doesnβt conjure questions and justβ¦ there.
After a while, he speaks softly into the dark. βThis apartment isβ¦ big. For one person.β
You hum, already feeling sleep tug at you.
A beat passes and then, he quietly asks, βHave you ever felt lonely?β
You donβt hesitate when you answer, βAll the time.β
You feel the way his arm tightens around you at that like it would help him ward away the thought of you being in this big space and feeling lonely. You lift your head slightly so you can see him in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
βBut now, not anymore,β you say, fingers trace lightly over the pale skin on his chest. βBecause youβre here with me.β
A smile slowly blooms on his face, slow and bright. He leans in and kisses you on the lips, a kiss so gentle and lingering that your heart shakes in your chest.
When you settle back against him, he clears his throat lightly. βJust so weβre clear, Iβm not paying the rent.β
You laugh quietly and press your mouth close to his ear. Then, you seductively whisper, βYou can pay the rent another way.β
To tease him further, your hand slips under the duvet, fingers brushing toward the waistband of his sweatpants β but he catches your wrist immediately.
With exaggerated exhaustion, he sighs. βIβm very tired.β
βNo, youβre not.β
βI am.β
He takes your hand and places it flat against his chest instead, holding it there firmly.
βYou must be tired too,β he murmurs.
You nod softly because by some inexplicable reason, you always feel safer when youβre with him. Sleepier. Like your body knows it can finally rest.
He brushes his thumb slowly and tenderly over your cheek. Then he leans down and gives you one more long, lingering kiss.
βGoodnight,β he whispers.
βGoodnight,β you whisper back.
You close your eyes as youβre wrapped in his warmth. Youβre breathing eventually in sync.
And for the first time in a very long time, you fall asleep without heaviness in your chest because you know that when you wake up, it wonβt feel like the start of another battle.
Itβll feel like the beginning of something beautiful.
-
Youβve just wrapped up the important meeting with Palindrome and youβre already halfway down the hallway toward your office, heels clicking a little faster than usual because you have someone waiting for you there. You only nod and wave your hand whenever your employee greets you as you walk past their desks.
The second you push through the door of your office, you find Chris sitting on the sofa, relaxed like he belongs there, but the moment he sees you, heβs on his feet.
βHey,β he says, smiling.
βIβm so sorry,β you blurt out immediately, making your way toward him. βI didnβt mean to make you wait.β
βItβs okay,β he says easily.
You drop your things on the nearest table and then turn around, throwing yourself at him for a hug. You can feel the way your body relaxed even for the briefest moment as you rest your head against his chest and softly exhale.
You slowly pull away and look up, βLucy showed you around, right? How was the tour?β
βShe did a very good job. I think she bragged about you more than the company.β
You crack an amused laugh. βThat sounds like her.β
βYou should give her a raise for that,β he adds, completely serious.
You chuckle again, checking the time on your watch and frowning when you see that you donβt have much time left until the next meeting. βWe donβt have much time, but we could grab an early lunch before my next meetingββ
βActually,β he interrupts gently, βI have to go somewhere.β
Your brows knitted in confusion. βGo? Where?β
βJust a meeting,β he vaguely answers.
βMeeting who?β you ask, trying to sound casual but failed.
βItβs for work. You have nothing to be worried about,β he convinces as he runs his hand through your hair.
You put anyway, wanting to spend the little free time you have with him.
βIβll be back for dinner,β he promises, coaxing you with a quick kiss to the top of your head.
That softens you instantly as you break into a smile. βOkay. Iβll see you later, then.β
βSee you later,β he echoes and then slowly, he takes a step away.
You grab his arm and pout. βYouβre really leaving without kissing me?β
He glances around the office, visibly flustered. βIsβ¦ is that allowed here?β
You lift a brow and coyly shrug. βItβs my company.β
Thatβs all the encouragement he needs. He steps closer, hands settling on your waist, eyes flicking to your lips before meeting yours again. Then he leans in and kisses you. The kiss is slow yet deep. The kind of kiss that loosens every knot in your shoulders, that makes the rest of the day fade into background noise.
When he pulls back just slightly, his mouth brushes your ear. βIf I bent you over that desk and fucked you there,β he murmurs, low and wicked, βIs that allowed too?β
You feel heat rushing straight to your cheeks. You quickly straighten your posture, daringly stare into his eyes, and answer sweetly, βAs long as we put on a good show.β
He smirks, absolutely pleased with himself and kisses you again, quick and devastating. This time, when he pulls away, he actually steps back. βIβll see you later, yeah?β he says.
βLater,β you manage, still smiling like a fool.
He leaves with that dimpled grin still on his face.
The second the door clicks shut, your legs give out. You plop onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.
Lucy appears not a minute later and stops short when she sees your face.
βOh my God,β she squeals like a schoolgirl. βHe is hot. I approve.β
You laugh, breathless, heart full, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt, βI love him. I love him so much.β
Lucy softens instantly as she smiles with you, eyes brimming with joy. βIβve never seen you this happy,β she says.
And itβs true.
Youβve never been happier.
-
Work feels so long when youβre looking forward to come home. Well, to someone to be exact.
Youβre in the middle of assessing some files when your phone rings. The second you see Chrisβs name lights up the screen and your smile comes instantly like your body already knows him before your brain catches up.
βHey,β he says, voice warm.
βHey,β you reply, already smiling wider. βYouβre home already?β
βYes,β he answers. βHow about you?β
βAlmost. Iβm wrapping things up as we speak.β
βThatβs good,β he says with a soft sigh. βBecause I already started preparing dinner.β
You stop moving and lean back on your chair to focus on him. βAlready?β
βYeah,β he says casually, like this isnβt the most domestic, heart-melting sentence youβve heard all day.
Your heart swells, threatening to burst right there in your chest. βCanβt wait to for it.β
βDonβt expect much,β he says with a chuckle.
βNah, Iβll expect much,β you say, cheeks hurt from the non-stop smiling.
βI didnβt say I cook well. Justβ¦ edible.β
You hum skeptically. βIt better be. Cause Iβm starving.β
βIβve got you. Just come home soon, okay?β
βI will,β you promise.
βBe safe.β
βI will,β you repeat softly.
Everything after that is a blurβyou finish signing off emails, grab your coat, shove the rest of your things into your bag. You press a button on your landline phone to summon Lucy and she appears almost instantly.
βDo I have anything else on my schedule?β you ask.
She checks her tablet, scrolling for a bit. βNope. Youβre clear.β
βIβm heading home, then.β
Lucy lowers her tablet and clutches it to her chest. Her face is of disbelief as she says, βI canβt believe youβre leaving work before me.β
You sling your bag over your shoulder and grin. βI have to. My boyfriendβs cooking dinner.β
Her eyes widen in envy but her smile is of joy. βWow. Iβm jealous.β
You nod smugly. βWell, jealousy looks good on you.β
Laughter spills free from Lucyβs heart-shaped lips. βGo. Enjoy the rest of your night.β
βGoodnight, Lucy.β
βGoodnight,β she says, smiling.
And for once, you leave the office early not because youβre running from something, but because youβre heading toward someone.
-
Chris is already there when you come home, setting plates on the dining table, the sleeves of his light blue shirts rolled up to the elbows. The smell of food hits you all at once and your stomach betrays you with a soft grumble.
He looks up when he hears your slow footsteps. βHey, welcome home,β he says, smiling.
You cross the room without thinking, slipping your arms around him. He bends easily into you, one arm around your waist, the other coming up to cradle the back of your head as you kiss him.
βHow was work?β he asks softly when you pull back.
You softly exhale. βIβm just glad itβs over.β
He smiles at that, thumb brushing your hip. βGo put your things away. Wash up. Dinnerβs ready.β
You obey happily and turn toward the bedroom. You hang your coat, set your bag down, wash your hands and when you return, heβs already pouring wine into two glasses, the bottle sitting open between them like a promise of a slow night.
You sit together on the dining table. The food is better than you expected and you tell him so, earning a proud grin. Conversation flows easily. You talk about work, ask about his meeting, about stupid things and small things and memories that resurface naturally, laughter slipping in between bites and sips of wine.
At one point, you pause, looking at him across the table. At the way he leans back in his chair, relaxed. At how at ease you feel, how the tightness youβve carried for years seems to loosen without effort.
Youβve lived in many places. Youβve succeeded, built things, survived heartbreak. But youβve never quite felt like this. Like youβre exactly where youβre meant to be.
In that moment, you learn that home isnβt a placeβitβs a moment, a shared meal, a soft laugh across the table, and the certainty settling in your chest that you donβt want to be anywhere else.
-
After dinner, you stand and reach for the plates to help with the dishes but Chris immediately shakes his head and tells you to sit and enjoy the wine instead. You open your mouth to argue, then decide you like the sound of that far too much.
You retreat to the sofa instead, curling into the corner with your glass while he moves around the kitchen, rinsing plates, stacking them neatly, soft curls falling over his forehead. You watch him shamelessly, refilling his glass when he passes by. When he finally joins you on the sofa, you hand him the wine.
βI could get used to this,β you say with a playful grin.
He chuckles before taking a sip. βGood. Iβll send you my invoice at the end of the month.β
βThat wonβt be a problem,β you say confidently.
He nods, amused. βI figured.β
For a moment, thereβs only the quiet clink of glass against table, the low hum of the house settling around you. Then Chris sets his wine down and turns toward you, his expression still soft, but serious now.
He takes your hand in his and says, βI need to tell you something.β
You follow his lead, placing your own glass aside to give him your full attention. Your heart giving a small, nervous thud. βOkay. What is it?β
He smiles first and takes a moment to either brace himself or arrange the words heβs going to say in his head. Either way, it makes you wait in anticipation.
βI decide to turn down both offers,β he shares with a steady voice. βThe extension from my old teamβ¦ and the new one.β
It comes as a surprise but you donβt interrupt. You just nod, letting him speak, trusting him that heβll explain in his own pace.
βWhen you invited me to come, I reached out to a few teams here,β he continues. βJust to see if thereβs any suitable offers. One of them wanted to meet todayβthatβs where I went earlier.β
βOh?β You manage to say and feel bad for being suspicious earlier.
βYeah,β he nods. βThey offered me the job.β
He pauses, eyes searching yours as he shares, βAnd Iβm going to take it.β
You couldnβt be happier to know heβs getting a job but the businessman in you canβt help but ask, βIs itβ¦ the best offer you could get?β
βNo. The other one was better,β he honestly answers.
Your chest tightens but then he takes your other hand too, holding both of them firmly on his lap.
βBut theyβre willing to provide everything I asked so itβs enough for me,β he says with a reassuring smile. His gaze softening, his hand holds you tighter as he continues, βAnd Iβm choosing it. Because I want to stay close to you. This is what I want.β
Your throat closes in disbelief on what heβs done. Again. How certain he is of this. The trust. The faith.
βChrisβ¦β is all you can manage to say.
He squeezes your hands gently. βIβm not doing this for you. Iβm doing it with you. Iβm doing this for us.β
Tears sting your eyes anyway and this time, you donβt doubt him or his choices. You donβt doubt this. You inhale slowly and nod.
βItβs your decision. And I respect it,β you say, voice steady despite the emotion.
Then you take a breath of your own. βI have something to tell you too.β
He tilts his head. βYeah?β
βI want you to move in with me.β
His eyebrows lift, surprised for only a brief moment. The grin spreads on his beautiful face, slowly, brightly. βThat wonβt be a problem for me.β
You laugh softly, relief and joy tangling together. βGood. Because Iβm choosing this too. Iβm choosing us.β
He brings your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles. βLetβs stay close to each other,β he murmurs.
You nod, smiling through the warmth blooming in your chest. βAnd letβs be happy from now on.β
He agrees with a quiet nod and then he leans in and kisses you, sealing it not like a promise made in fear, but one built on choice, trust, and finally, peace.
The kiss lingers for a long moment as a promise made without words. When you pull back, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling, smiles soft and real. Thereβs no grand declaration, no need to map out the future tonight. Just the steady understanding that whatever comes next, you wonβt face it alone.
For so long, love felt like something you had to earn, chase, or protect at the cost of yourself. With Chris, itβs different. Itβs chosen again and again in small moments and big ones, in dinners cooked at home, in meetings taken and turned down, in hands held without fear of letting go. This isnβt the kind of love that asks you to shrink or sacrifice your dreams. It grows alongside them. It waits. It stays.
Youβve both lived long enough to know that timing can be cruel, that life can pull people apart even when the feelings are real. But youβve also learned that the right person doesnβt disappear just because the road gets hard.
This time, you choose each other not out of longing or regret, but with open eyes and steady hearts. And as you kiss him again, smiling into it, you know this isnβt a happy ending.
Itβs a beginning.
One youβll keep choosing, together.
-
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Synopsis: You don't tolerate immature behavior during an argument
Content: angst, hurt/comfort?, it's not wildly angsty but obvi they are fighting so, swearing (hints the title), Chan and Lee Know being a lil immature and stressed, lmk if I missed anything
A/N: idk why I only wrote for these two (ya know, the ones I already write everything for π€‘), but here it is. May or may not write more for others later, we'll see.
Masterlist
~~~~
Chan:Β
Chan has had a long week at work. Everyday he has arrived early and stayed late, sometimes not even coming home. The few days that he did come home, he locked himself in his studio until well after you had gone to sleep. You hate seeing him like this, but it happens every now and then, especially around comeback season and performance season. Plus, you have been busy this week too, also staying late at work and spending hours doing more work at home. Chan will take short breaks, even if they are only to go to the bathroom. In those breaks, you try to bring him some water or food and an encouraging word or two. He hasnβt been sleeping well, but you have decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. As long as you can get two out of the three essentials, you call that a win.Β
Itβs a quiet Saturday evening and you are finally cooking a real meal for the first time this week. Instant ramen is only good for so long. You managed to finish up the final pieces of your project, giving yourself a free weekend. Chan went into the studio this morning to practice and work on some tracks, not giving himself the weekend off, as per usual. You are standing in the kitchen, humming a random song when you hear the front door open. You peak your head into the entry hallway and see a very tired Chan slipping off his shoes.Β
βWelcome home, love. Iβm finally making dinner if you want some later.β He huffs, not even looking in your direction. You donβt take it personally. Heβs tired and you know that, so you decide to leave him alone for now. You expect him to take a shower after a long day of work, but he immediately shuts himself off in the studioβ¦again. Sometimes you wish he didnβt have a studio at home, but you know that would mean on weeks like this, he would never come home. With a heavy sigh, you focus back in on dinner, hoping he will take a break soon.Β
At this point, itβs been hours since he came home and he hasnβt left the studio once. You already ate dinner and have been lounging around on the couch for a while. Checking the time with a sigh, you decide to check in on him. You try not to bother him when he is working, but you canβt help worrying about him. His lack of sleep combined with no food and very little water is a recipe for disaster. So, you go and knock softly on his studio door, βChannie?β No response. You sigh. He probably has headphones on and canβt hear you, but you speak through the door anyway, βLove, I know you are working, but you should eat some dinner soon. I can bring you a plate if you want.βΒ
You hear some shuffling and then a muffled response. βLater.βΒ
Well, at least he is alive and responsive. Thatβs more than you expected, so you leave him be for now.Β
Come 9pm, Chan still hasnβt emerged. If he wonβt come out, then you will go in. You fix him a plate of food and pour a cup of water before cautiously making your way to his studio. With a soft knock you move to open the door, βChan?β The light from the hallway spills into the dim room. Most of the lights are off, the studio being illuminated by his monitors and a single lamp on his desk. βI brought you some food.β You slowly walk in and it isnβt until you are right next to him that he notices you.Β
He jumps, his headphones falling off his ears. βJeez, Y/N. You scared me.β
βSorry. I tried knocking, but I guess you couldnβt hear me.β You place the food and water on his desk. βI brought you something to eat.β
His eyes flick to the food before immediately locking back onto his screen. βIβm not hungry.βΒ
βChris, itβs 9 oβclock. You need to try and eat something.βΒ
βIβm fine,β His voice tells you that he is absolutely not fine.Β
You sigh, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder, βYou should at least drink some water.βΒ
βI said Iβm fine!β He snaps and shoves your hand away, βWould you just leave me alone?!β
βI was just-β
βWell stop, because itβs annoying and youβre interrupting my work.βΒ
You blink, absolutely shocked at his attitude. βWell excuse me,β You scoff, βI didnβt know my presences was such a bother.βΒ
βWhat? Thatβs not-β
βNo, no. I get it. Your work clearly comes before everything, including your health. Thatβs my fault for trying to be a good person and take care of you.β Your tone is thick with sarcasm as you turn to leave the room.
βStop acting like a child.βΒ
You whip around to look at him, βExcuse me? Iβm acting like a child? Thatβs bullshit and you know it. Iβm sorry that youβre busy and tired but you donβt get to take that shit out on me when all Iβm trying to do is help.β Your voice is calm and steady, βThere are pillows in the hall closet and a blanket in the living room. Since you want to be in here so badly, you can sleep in here too.β With that, you close his door, intentionally not slamming it. You wonβt give him the satisfaction of losing your temper. It isnβt until you are in your room with the door shut and locked that you finally let yourself break. Tears start pouring down your face, a mix of anger and hurt swirling inside you. You decide to take a warm bath, hoping that will help relax you.Β
Meanwhile, Chan sits in his studio staring at the now closed door. You didnβt yell. You didnβt slam the door. You didnβt even take his food or water. He sits in the dark, frozen, as your words play on repeat in his head. As he replays the conversation over and over again, he gets more and more angry with himself. How could he be so stupid? He yelled at you and called you annoying for trying to help him and when you called him out on it, he called you childish. Chan smacks himself in the head, βDammit Chris! What is wrong with you?!β He groans, his head falling into his hands, βGosh, Iβm such an idiot.β Suddenly, his stomach growls as if trying to prove his point. He sighs as his eyes trail up to see the plate of food you left for him. Thatβs when tears start to prick at his eyes, guilt flooding over him. You are so good to him and he just threw it all back in your face. How is he ever going to make this up to you?Β
After a nice long bath, you feel a little more relaxed. You wind down and get ready for bed before curling up under your comforter. As you sit in bed, scrolling through your phone, the bedroom door cracks open and you hear a small voice, βY/N?β Chans voice sounds tiny, almost scared. βCan-can I come in?β Being a wee-bit petty, you give him a taste of his own medicine and donβt respond. He sighs, βI was really terrible to you and Iβm sorry. Everything you said was totally valid. I was acting like a child. I took my stress and exhaustion out on you and thatβs not fair. You were just trying to help me and take care of me and I was a total jerk. Iβm sorry I called you childish. You were not childish. Honestly, you were really mature about it and that was simultaneously really cool and really terrifying.β You stifle a laugh, caught off guard by his honesty. He keeps going as if it wasnβt there. βWork is not more important than you. You arenβt annoying. I love that you want to take care of me. Iβm just not very good at accepting it. Iβve always been the one to take care of others, shutting myself off when things got hard. I never want to feel like a burden so I just hide away in my work. Itβs become such a habit that I donβt know how to stop. I donβt know how to slow down or take a break and I guess I took that out on you. Which was wrong and I shouldnβt have done that. Iβm sorry. I donβt expect you to forgive me, but I promise to do better. Iβll make it up to you just pleaseβ¦donβt give up on meβ¦β His voice cracks, breaking you in half.Β
You immediately sit up, startling him a bit. As he stands in proper lighting, you can see the full toll this week has taken on him. Eye bags hang heavy with exhaustion, his shoulders knotted with tension. His eyes are red rimmed with tears and his whole body is just slightly trembling. You slide out from under the covers and gently approach him. Your hand reaches up to gently cup his cheek and he practically melts into your touch. βOh you poor beautiful idiot.β He lets out a watery laugh at your sincere tone. βHow could I ever give up on someone as wonderful as you?βΒ
That prompts more tears to roll down his cheeks as he manages a soft, broken, βIβm sorry.β
βI know and I forgive you.β You lean in and press soft, slow kiss to his lips. He immediately deepens it as if your kiss is pure oxygen itself. His hands slide around your waist, holding you like something rare and precious because to him you are.Β
He pulls back and whispers against your lips, βI love you so much.βΒ
βI love you too.β You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his hold tightening on you. You hold each other for a moment, soaking in each otherβs warmth. You are the first one to break the silence, βAs much as I love hugging you, Iβm tired.βΒ
Chan laughs, the sound vibrating against your shoulder, βDo I still have to sleep in the studio?βΒ
You lean back, pretending to think about it for a moment, βWell, I was feeling a bit cold earlier. I suppose I can make an exception.βΒ
He flops onto the bed and you let out a small squeak as he pulls you with him, βThen consider me your personal heating blanket.β He wraps you up in his strong hold, snuggling you both under the blanket. You laugh as he nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck. βBetter?βΒ
βMuch,β You sigh, relaxing into his warmth.Β
He places a soft kiss on your head, his voice lower and more sincere, βSeriously, thank you. Youβre too good to me.βΒ
βNo, Iβm just loving you. You just donβt realize it yet.βΒ
He sighs, βI donβt deserve you.βΒ
βMaybe, but you get me anyway, so get used to it.βΒ
βIβll try, I promise.βΒ
βGood, because next time you call me childish, Iβm throwing your laptop out the window.βΒ
He laughs, βYes maβam.β He places one last kiss to the back of your head before you peacefully drift into sleep together.Β
Lee Know:Β
It shouldnβt have been a big deal. All you wanted was for him to stop by the store on the way home. Somehow that ended up in a huge fight.Β
βI needed that supplies for work tomorrow.β You sigh.
βSo get it on your way to work.β Lee Know drops his bag and slips off his shoes, his tone tired and dismissive.Β
βYeah, I guess Iβll have to now.β You didnβt mean for your tone to sound sarcastic, but with the tiredness clinging to both of you, thatβs how it came across.Β
Lee Know huffs, βWhy is it my fault you donβt have what you need for your job?βΒ
βI didnβt say it was your fault.β
βWell youβre sure acting like it. Sorry Iβm exhausted from work and forgot a few things.βΒ
βI know youβre tired. I wasnβt trying to make it your fault. It just means Iβm going to have to get up extra early to stop by the store, thatβs all.βΒ
He rolls his eyes, βOh no, you have to wake up early. Itβs not like I havenβt been staying up late and waking up early every day for a week now. Itβs not like Iβm spending all day in the studio working my ass off. Oh but you have to wake up early, so yeah that is clearly so much worse.βΒ
You scoff, βIt isnβt a competition. I didnβt say you werenβt tired. I didnβt say you werenβt working hard. I know how hard you work. Thatβs why I asked if you could stop by the store. You could have said no and I wouldβve gone out earlier today.β
βNo because then it would have been a whole thing of βwhy canβt you do it? Youβre already outβ.βΒ
βNo it wouldnβt have. Stop putting words in my mouth!β You snap, frustrated with his assumptions.Β
He walks past you with a dismissive wave, βWhatever. Iβm tired.β The door to the bedroom slams shut, leaving you standing in the living room alone. You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh, hating how tense things got. By the time you go to get ready for bed, he is already lying down, facing away from you. Slipping under the covers, you lean over and press a kiss to his shoulder, βIβm sorry.β You have no idea if he is awake or not, but you say it nonetheless before turning and falling asleep yourself.Β
~
The next morning you wake up earlier than normal and Minho is already gone. Checking the time you wince. Itβs 6am. How early did he wake up to be ready and gone already? You shake your head, wishing he didnβt have such a terrible schedule. The boys have a performance coming up and Minho is doing the dance break which means heβs been practicing extra hard recently. He is in the studio early morning to late night. You try not to expect much out of him during times like this. You know he is busy and tired and the last thing you want to do is make it worse. Unfortunately, you are also busy and tired, having a large project at work coming up. Tensions are high for both of you and it accidentally is spilling out on each other.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you carry on with your day, sending a quick text to MinhoΒ
Y/N: Hope you have a better day today <3Β
Minho: *read
You try to text him another time or two βDonβt forget to eat. Hope practice is going well,β but he leaves it all on read. You donβt think much of it. He is busy and the texts donβt exactly call for a response. At some point you want to talk about the fight, try to clear things up, but that would also require seeing him and see him you do not. By the time you go to sleep, he isnβt home. You try to call him, concerned since he has been gone since early morning, but he doesnβt pick up. You send a quick, βGoing to bed. Get home safeβ text before doing just that.Β
You wake up the next morning to noise in the kitchen. Heβs alive at least. Stepping into the kitchen, you see Minho making himself coffee.Β
βGood morning,β Your voice is still groggy.Β
He doesnβt react, but you donβt push. Heβs not talkative when heβs tired. You move around him to also make yourself some breakfast, the silence between you unusually awkward.Β
βCan weββ before you hardly start your sentence, he quickly moves past you and leaves the kitchen. You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open in confusion. You hear the front door shut, indicating he is gone for the day, leaving you no room to talk. βOkay, never mind.β You say to an empty kitchen.Β
It doesnβt take you long to realize he is giving you the silent treatment.Β
Y/N: What time do you think youβll be home?
Minho: *read
Y/N: Can we please talk soon?
Minho: *read
Y/N: You know if youβre just going to ignore my texts, thereβs no point in reading them
Minho: *readΒ
You give up on trying to text him and just wait until he gets home which of course is far too late at night for your liking. Itβs almost midnight when you finally hear the front door open. Minho walks into the living room and for a moment you see the surprise and a hint of concern in his face that you are still awake before it drops back to neutral.Β
βYouβre home late.β You state and of course, he doesnβt answer. He just turns to go to your bedroom. You walk after him, wanting to be delicate, but also not beating around the bush. βCan we please talk for a minute?β His footsteps speed up ever so slightly, trying to beat you to the bathroom. You swear he is such a child sometimes. He speed walks into the master bath, hoping to shut the door before you can get there, but you are faster than he expected. You slam your hand on the bathroom door, keeping it from shutting. βLee Minho, I swear.βΒ
He looks at you, a little shocked, βI need to go to the bathroom.βΒ
βOh now you want to talk to me?βΒ
βNo, I want to use the bathroom.βΒ
βWell you should have thought of that before giving me the silent treatment.β He rolls his eyes and shrugs before trying to walk past you, but you step to block his way. βAbsolutely not.β
He huffs, but still refuses to talk.Β
You cross your arms, blocking him into the bathroom, βNo, I am not doing this with you. The silent treatment? Really? How do you expect to solve anything that way?βΒ
βYou said to stop putting words in your mouth.β He crosses his arms as if he made a good point.Β
βThat doesnβt mean stop talking. Are you incapable of talking without putting words in my mouth?β He doesnβt answer. βGiving me the silent treatment isnβt going to solve anything. Itβs only going to drive a wedge between us. Itβs an immature way to handle conflict and you should know that.β He tries to interject but you cut him off. βNah uh, you donβt get to cut in after ignoring me for two days. Youβre going to sit and listen. Look, Iβm sorry youβre tired and stressed, but you canβt take it out on me and you certainly donβt get to ignore me. Iβm sorry if I was harsh the other day, but you canβt make assumptions about me. I was not trying to blame you. I was not trying to stress you out. I know youβre busy and tired. I wasnβt trying to say that you werenβt or that I was more busy/tired than you. And I wouldnβt have been upset if you had just communicated that you were too tired to go to the store.β He shrinks back, his eyes looking anywhere but you. You soften, taking a step forward and gently take his hands in yours, βYou have to communicate with me, especially when you are tired and busy. Iβm sorry if I let my tiredness out on you. I didnβt mean to, but that doesnβt give you an excuse to take yours out on me.βΒ
He lightly squeezes your hands back, his shoulders slumping as his gaze drops to the ground. βYou didnβt take it out on me.β His voice is small, barely a mumble. βI justβ¦β He trails off. You know he hates being vulnerable, but you give his hand a light squeeze to indicate that you are here and listening. He sighs, βIβm sorry. Youβre right. I shouldnβt have taken it out on you. I was exhausted and frustrated and I threw that all on you and that wasnβt fair. I should have communicated better instead of shutting you out.β A tear involuntarily slips down his cheek.Β
You reach up to gently swipe it away, βI forgive you. Just promise me next time we will try and talk it out.βΒ
He nods, βIβll try.βΒ
βThatβs all I ask.β You pull him into a hug and his arms wrap tightly around you. You feel his shoulders drop, the exhaustion heavy in his body. βWhy donβt we go to bed, yeah? Itβs late.βΒ
He nods, waddling over to the bed with you still in his arms. You giggle as he picks you up and flops on the bed, pulling you straight on top of him. He lets out a deep sigh, finally letting himself breathe for the first time in the past few days. Placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he whispers, βThank you.βΒ
βFor what?β
βFor tolerating my bullshit.βΒ
βI donβt tolerate it,β You smirk.
He huffs a laugh, pulling you closer into his chest, βAnd thatβs why I love you because you call me out and make me a better person.βΒ
You smile, snuggling close to his warmth, βI love you too.βΒ
hihihihihi!! so at gov ball during the ending ment chan said that they were preparing βthis and thatβ and heβs been throwing that out A LOT lately. plus felix definitely said they would be seeing us really soon which threw me for another loop. a lot of subtle spoilers thatβs all π€
synopsis: in the heart of downtown brooklyn stood a gaming cafe that had opened less than 6 months ago. mingi was one of the first employees hired before opening and he loved every bit of it. from being into video games since he was a child, he knew this would be the perfect place for him to work while being enrolled in university. the manager was still looking for more people to work ESPECIALLY on the weekends due to it being their busiest times. that's when stella recommends her best friend y/n for the job. a lover of all things games, tech, and more she was the PERFECT fit for the job.
y/n is an introverted college student who loves what she does. she always worked hard for everything she's had, and picking up this new job was going to help her tremendously. a shy, quiet y/n meeting the handsome, SHY, and closed off mingi on her first day was not what either was expecting but, everyone should be down for a awkward ride....right?
last installment | installment #3 | series masterlist
synopsis: in the heart of downtown brooklyn stood a gaming cafe that had opened less than 6 months ago. mingi was one of the first employees hired before opening and he loved every bit of it. from being into video games since he was a child, he knew this would be the perfect place for him to work while being enrolled in university. the manager was still looking for more people to work ESPECIALLY on the weekends due to it being their busiest times. that's when stella recommends her best friend y/n for the job. a lover of all things games, tech, and more she was the PERFECT fit for the job.
y/n is an introverted college student who loves what she does. she always worked hard for everything she's had, and picking up this new job was going to help her tremendously. a shy, quiet y/n meeting the handsome, SHY, and closed off mingi on her first day was not what either was expecting but, everyone should be down for a awkward ride....right?
last installment | installment #3 | series masterlist
synopsis: in the heart of downtown brooklyn stood a gaming cafe that had opened less than 6 months ago. mingi was one of the first employees hired before opening and he loved every bit of it. from being into video games since he was a child, he knew this would be the perfect place for him to work while being enrolled in university. the manager was still looking for more people to work ESPECIALLY on the weekends due to it being their busiest times. that's when stella recommends her best friend y/n for the job. a lover of all things games, tech, and more she was the PERFECT fit for the job.
y/n is an introverted college student who loves what she does. she always worked hard for everything she's had, and picking up this new job was going to help her tremendously. a shy, quiet y/n meeting the handsome, SHY, and closed off mingi on her first day was not what either was expecting but, everyone should be down for a awkward ride....right?
last installment | installment #2 | series masterlist
a/n: hiiiii!! work has had me all over the place but here's the second installment! not as long but i've been trying to get some written pieces in as well that are coming up so YUH. love y'all!
πππ π ππππππ ππππππ β β presenting a situation as having only two alternatives when, in fact, there are more. β
in the gilded halls of a prestigious frat house, loyalty is a fragile lie and love is nothing more than a risky gamble. what began as a simple bet among brothers has spiraled into a suffocating obsession that threatens to dismantle everything they built.
the false belief that hearts can be won through deception and that brotherhood can survive betrayal. as a single event triggers a chain reaction of manipulation and lust, the men who once called themselves best friends begin to stab each other in the back, proving that once the lie takes root, the truth becomes the most dangerous weapon of all.
ππππ π. ππππππ
word count :: 19,3k
main love interest :: choi san
synopsis :: if thereβs no label, itβs only fair for everyone to take a bite. youβre considered a prize in the predatory world of the frat house. when you show up to their party unannounced, you unknowingly become the center of a high-stakes bet. caught in a dizzying hunt between the charming frats, youβre forced to navigate a maze of lust and deception, all while wondering if the man you actually want will finally claim you before someone else wins the game.
synopsis :: finding yourself standing at a crossroads where the light no longer reaches. the devil offers an apple to his favorite angel, but as you take a bite, you realize the sweetness was only a mask for the rot of a soul-crushing deal. to save the heaven you built, you must now learn to thrive in the shadows casted over your heart.
synopsis :: the lie has become your truth, woven itself into the dream life you wanted. a new shadow now enters the circus to pull the strings of your silent surrender. even as the cage door locks tighter than ever before, a promise arrives to keep you forever in the very paradise you are trying so desperately to stay in.
just came to say the war was won i will be seeing skz in mexico. that was traumatic as hell but IM UP. now to prepare for skz at govball πΆπ½ββοΈ
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
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