summery: you have a fat crush on s.coups but you think that he’s gay for his best friend, jeonghan, and try your best to get rid of your feelings for him, but seungcheol is actually madly in love with you.
warnings: college au, smau, cursing, fluff, angst, smut, suggestiveness at times, weed smoking and dealing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, hurtful actions due to jealousy,
featuring: seventeen, johnny suh (nct127), bang chan (stray kids),
started: March 5th, 2026
status: ongoing
PSA: i do not ship any of the idols together. i just wrote it to make the plot thicken. again, I DO NOT SHIP ANY OF THESE IDOLS TOGETHER (you’ll see). everyone is of age to drink and smoke.
Taglist Available
current taglist: @luperque @emmalabo @seungkwanglazer @storyschanging
profiles:
y/n gang | s.coups gang
Beginning
Chapter: 1- Party Hardy
Chapter: 2- It Stinks in Here🖊️ wc: 2.1k
Chapter: 3- Not so Bad
Chapter: 4- Deep Shit
Chapter: 5- Tension 🖊️ wc: 1.0k
Chapter: 6- Things May Have Happened🖊️wc: 1.8k smut warning
prince!yunho x princess!reader, prince!hongjoong x princess!reader
royal au
genres and warning: established relationship with yunho, strict restrictions regarding pre-marital relationships, slow burnnn, lots of angst and lots of fluff, cheating (kind of? i call it testing the waters (don't do this irl pls)), suggestive, mentions of violence and blood, etc.
word count: 30.8k
synopsis: you did not know that your heart could be split equally in two until you find yourself in a push-and-pull game with prince yunho of utopia-- your best friend, and prince hongjoong of utopia. you risk breaking the sacred tradition that prohibits pre-marital relationships and driving the princes apart who are closer than brothers. could you chose one of them over the other?
a/n: we are so (kinda) back! special thanks to @eightmakesonebraincell and @sungbeam for supporting me all the way through :')) no taglist this time bc the current one was old and had too many accounts to tag, i'll prob release a new one or ditch the idea entirely.
The Kingdom of Wonderland always gets festive towards the end of the year.
The castle gets adorned with colours– in the flowers that line the walls, in the banners that wrap around the towers, and definitely in the ornaments made specifically in the celebration of the New Year’s approaching.
Then there is the food. The chefs and the bakers level up for the holidays. They bring out the most exquisite-looking desserts and spice up the savoury dishes. The aroma of the food seems to linger in the air permanently, providing a sense of warmth and comfort in the otherwise cold weather.
But the real festivity begins when one of the kingdoms in the continent hosts a year-end ball. It is not just a night for dance and games. It is a weeks-long celebration that involves welcoming the neighbours, making connections and sometimes, making matches. It is a time when everyone lets loose a little and takes great joy in the celebrations.
It is your favourite time of the year. This year, it feels special because your kingdom is hosting the year-end ball. As the princess of Wonderland, you are in top shape to welcome the guests.
This year, you did not mind when your attendings dragged you to the adornment chamber and worked on your skin until it was smooth as butter. They took great care of your hair, making it look luscious and healthy. They made you soak in warm water filled with petals that seemed to have flushed your skin permanently. Your cheeks were full of life and you were glowing.
You were ready to welcome Prince Yunho of Eden. Your best friend. Your greatest ally, and… the person you imagined a future with.
The creak of the gates opening and the distinct chimes of the bells reserved for Eden pleased your ears infinitely. You rushed to greet the guests, laughing when your handmaids held you back so they could fuss over your appearance one last time, making sure everything was in shape– your freshly curled hair tucked perfectly in a half bun, your deep purple gown unstained and flowy, your lips and cheeks dyed just right. After earning their approval, they accompanied you to the Great Hall.
Your parents, the King and the Queen, and your younger brother Prince Jeongin were already present. Your mother was a perfectionist and was still commanding the servants from her seat. Your father was currently chuckling at something Jeongin said. Your brother spotted you and muttered something like ‘finally!’ and made his way towards where you stood by the door.
“Excited?”
“Nervous,” you admitted. “I’m just glad the first guests are our friends and not one of those royalties that seem to have something stuck in their–”
“Language,” your younger brother reminded you. That was his way of letting you know that you need not finish the sentence. “Remember to stay proper, like mother always says, and not involve yourself in impropriety– like, mother! I’m only seventeen. I’m currently more invested in perfecting my horse-riding than catching someone’s eye. Odd, I know, from someone my age, but what can I even do if I like someone? Respect your traditions. Do you wonder if the other kingdoms think that we are the ones with something stuck in our–”
“Jeongin!” You laughed. “You’re rambling. Mother is right. We must respect our traditions and make sure we do not engage in improper behaviour– oh, here they come!”
Forget traditions. You were going to greet your best friend with the hug that he deserved. Since it was only your parents and your court in the room, you did not care for any judgement or criticism. As soon as you spotted your tall friend, you clutched the edges of your gown and made your way towards him.
When the prince spotted you, his lips spread in a wide grin and he basically hopped the rest of the way, laughing as he scooped you up. You could hear the laughter of your father and the stern voice of your mother scolding you, but you knew that they would dismiss it just this once. Yunho twirled you once before settling you down, and then he decided to greet you properly with a kiss on your knuckles.
“You look beautiful, Princess,” he said, kissing your hand again before letting it go. “And I missed you, dear friend.”
“I missed you too!” you sighed, scanning him. “You’ve changed.”
Yunho smiled in agreement. Oh, he had changed a great deal. His shoulders were much broader now and he seemed to have grown even taller since you last saw him some five months ago. His hair was also longer– a warm shade of deep brown tucked loosely back, threatening to cover his beautifully carved face.
“Let me greet the rest,” he said, a silent promise to be right back. You watched him hug Jeongin next and ask about his progress with horse-riding, but your attention went to the older prince– Prince Hongjoong.
If Yunho was the sun personified, Hongjoong was the moon. He was shorter, colder but with an incredible personality. Even though he was much more relaxed in his demeanour than the perfectionist that Yunho was, Hongjoong was sharper and had a natural talent for leadership and wit. He was not related to Yunho, but they were closer than brothers.
“Princess,” he greeted with a restrained smirk. “Miss me?”
“Hmm… not really,” you said and when he narrowed your eyes, you grinned. He relaxed instantly, ignoring your outstretched hand and instead kissing you on your temple as a greeting, followed by a forehead flick that had you scowling.
“Do you have to do this?” You complained as you rubbed the pain away. He ignored that, moving towards the end of the hall where your mother and father were seated. Yunho was still deep in discussion with Jeongin so you decided to let them be, following the older prince.
“You’ve grown even more handsome,” your mother complimented. Hongjoong humbly thanked her, asking about her health. He had always been closer to your mother, while Yunho was your father’s favourite. They claimed that they did not have favourites but to you, it was painfully obvious. It was also painfully confusing because naturewise, Yunho and your mother were much more similar, and Hongjoong and your father were.
You looked towards Hongjoong. He had definitely gotten more handsome. His kind of beauty was a deadly one– pulling you in, threatening to never let go. He was all sharp angles, carved with great detail. His hair was a lighter shade of brown than Yunho’s and also longer than it had ever been.
Hongjoong caught you staring and raised a brow. You shook your head and asked him to take a seat. Jeongin went to greet the older prince, apologising for not doing that earlier while Yunho went to greet your parents. Hongjoong only ruffled Jeongin’s hair and soon, they were deep in conversation.
Yunho took a seat towards your left shortly after, excited to hear about what he had missed since the last time that you met. You started to brief him– a little something that you always do with him. At some point, Hongjoong started to listen and comment too, and Jeongin would add little bits of his life.
Then the bells for the Kingdom of Mist rang and you all got up again to welcome Prince Wooyoung, another close friend of yours.
Just like that, the day got busy welcoming guests from all over the continent– princes and princesses that had grown up with you. You saw them all at least once a year, so you were all close to a certain degree. The princes were tightly knit and so were the princesses, though fewer in number as most of them had now been married off and had duties to perform in their new homes.
This year, you only had Princess Sieun of the Kingdom of Hala and Princess Minjeong of Ascella, and the two were fast friends being younger than you. There were the Choi brothers, the princes from The Kingdom of Kiji, and they were close to Wooyoung.
You did not mind. You had Yunho.
You and Yunho had always been attached by the hip. The Kingdoms of Wonderland and Eden were very close. Your father was good friends with Yunho’s father and Hongjoong’s father as well. Oftentimes, you ended up accompanying your father whenever he made trips to the kingdom next to yours.
You and Yunho became friends naturally. He was a great listener and he made you laugh. As children, you played a lot but at some point, you both became aware that you had grown up. Your friendship shifted, monitored by the adults, but you still remained close. After some time, the adult grew tired of monitoring too closely.
It was Yunho. He could win over anyone, and he was the most respectable and responsible person you knew.
“You look like you need a drink,” a voice called. You turned to find Hongjoong with a pair of whiskey glasses in his hands and you gladly took one, almost slumping in relief. “I saw you slowly crawling away from the princesses. Are you feeling left out?”
“Not left out,” you shook your head. “But… They're very different from me. I don’t get along as well as I do with you and Yunho, or Wooyoung, or the princesses that are no longer here.”
Hongjoong nodded in understanding, probably overwhelmed by the crowd too. If there was one department you both had common footing on, it was your social energy– or lack thereof. Or maybe, you both were the normal ones because Yunho hardly ever seemed to run out of energy. He was always the life in the room, surrounded by people. You liked it that way. You did not intend to dim his light.
You had Hongjoong to keep you company in the dark.
Hongjoong has always been a part of your life. Where there was Yunho, there was Hongjoong– sometimes near, sometimes at a distance, but an unwavering presence. He did not try to get between you and Yunho, but his presence was much appreciated by you both so he always kept close. He knew things about you that Yunho did not, just like Yunho knew parts of you that Hongjoong did not.
“You may not be here much longer as well,” Hongjoong reminded you. “Your mother seems to have decided that your time has come.”
“Well…” you took a sip of the whiskey, suddenly conscious of yourself. “I am of age. I intend to settle soon.”
“How lovely,” Hongjoong’s comment didn’t match his tone. “Got eyes on someone?”
You looked at Hongjoong. “Are you pretending that you do not know that Yunho and I are interested in each other?”
“I mean…” Hongjoong shrugged. “You two are awfully uptight about your traditions. To me, you still look like friends.”
“Those traditions are sacred, Joong,” you reminded the prince. “They are meant to preserve sanctity and reverence–”
“Yeah, yeah. No need to quote lines from school,” Hongjoong dismissed. “I’m just saying that maybe you both need to stop tiptoeing around those manmade rules and think for once.”
“What’s it to you?” You scoffed, grabbing a scone from the table and offering one to Hongjoong. He denied. “I’ll take my sweet time. I intend to respect and uphold these traditions. You know that very well.”
Hongjoong shook his head. “You haven’t changed one bit, dear.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smiled, taking a big bite. “That’s delicious.”
While you were busy observing the scone, Hongjoong was fixated on the little crumb near your lips. Almost casually, he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.
“Hongjoong!”
He rolled his eyes. “No one is going to hang me for making sure you don’t make a mess of yourself. Stop making a big deal out of it.”
“Whatever,” you tried to ignore how your heart rate casually went up. “I’m going to find Yunho. Come along– Wooyoung probably needs to eat someone’s ears off. He’s been at it with the Choi brothers. I’ll offer you as his next target before it’s my turn.”
Hongjoong looked appalled at the idea but he followed anyway. That was Wooyoung’s charm– he could talk for hours and you would enjoy it all the same. You, however, intended to find Yunho and free him from the hoards of guests.
The ghost of Hongjoong’s finger still remained on your lips, though. You caught your mother’s eye– had she seen that? Even if she had not, you would probably receive a reminder of what was at stake anyway.
Honour. A woman’s honour, specifically, which was more fragile than a man’s, but almost equally as reverent.
There were many names for the said tradition– never written in the books as the law, but regarded with the same importance. The Doctrine of Chaste Union. The Covenant of Purity. It sounded too complicated, but it was simple enough to understand.
A man and woman must not engage in improper, intimate or dishonourable behaviour. For a man and woman intending to marry, they must still uphold these etiquettes to protect the sanctity of the royal bloodline and dignity of the crown.
It was not just a tradition. The royal bloodline served as role models to its subjects. The people of the kingdom looked up to you, the princess. You were always under observation, and your behaviour and appearance was a reflection of your values and morals. Young girls strived to be like you. You could not let your subjects down. You had to be perfect and show them how to live as a proper woman and as a moral human being in this society.
The same rules applied to the princes. Yunho was perhaps the one doing justice to this tradition. He was a natural– he had the best etiquettes and he had perfected the balance between being friendly and open to being reserved and chaste. He respected the tradition as much as you.
He promised to pursue you the right way when he made his intentions clear at the year-end festivities last year. Since then, it had been a dream. He sends butterflies in your stomach with a mere look, makes your skin tingle with a mere touch and melts your heart with his words alone.
“Yunho!” You whispered when you got close and he lit up at the sight of you. Pardoning himself from the crowd, he squeezed your hand and you led him away from the crowd.
“Tired yet?” You asked.
“Fancy a retreat?”
“You read my mind,” you grinned and you both made way to the abandoned balcony attached to the old music room which was your hideout. Your handmaids were already stationed there, knowing that you liked to spend time there with Yunho. They were wholly aware of how Yunho would never compromise your honour so they let you both be alone on the condition that you keep the door slightly open to avoid a scandal.
Scandals spread like wildfire here. You understood their concerns.
Yunho traced his fingers across the dusty piano, creating music in the process. You fixed the lapels of his navy blue royal uniform.
“Did I ever tell you blue is your colour?”
“You told me white was the last time we met, but okay. I’ll pretend I forgot,” he grinned.
“You look good in everything. It’s unfair,” you pouted. Yunho pinched your cheeks, making you giggle.
“How come you get more adorable every time I see you? That’s unfair.”
“Me? Adorable?” You curled a strand of your hair deviously between your fingers. “Don’t toot my horn, Yunho. I’ll be insufferable.”
Yunho leaned down, suddenly close to your face. “You know I love that side of you.”
You were positive your cheeks flushed. Yunho remained that way, scanning your face while you fixated on the freckles littering his face, illuminated by the moonlight and the candles. Oh, how you wished to trace them and draw constellations. His lips parted slightly, his gaze heavy.
“God, y/n. You’re beautiful.”
“Stop,” your pout deepened and he couldn’t resist to run the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, patting your cheek before straightening. You could tell he wished to do something about the pout but he had immense restraint, though his eyes held such raw yearning that it made you weak.
“We must stay proper,” you teased and he laughed, agreeing. He held your hands and kissed the back of your right hand.
“This much I can do,” he said.
“You can do more…”
Yunho broke into a smile. Giving in, he cupped your face and kissed your forehead– a tender, lingering kiss. Then a kiss on your temple, and a final innocent peck to the corner of your lips. You gasped, looking towards the door but you were unmonitored. “Jeong Yunho!”
“It’s been 5 months since I did that,” his voice was low. “I’m human too, love.”
“I know, but…” you bit your lips. “Step away from me before I compromise your honour.”
Yunho could barely keep from bursting into loud laughter. You joined and he reminded you of the time you made a similar threat. You continued to tease each other while recalling the memories, soft intimate touches passed between you two. A knock on the door alerted you to come out– it had been too long since you had disappeared inside.
You spent the rest of the night conversing with the other guests, but your eyes kept finding Yunho. Yet… you were wholly aware of Hongjoong the whole time as well.
Hongjoong was still a problem, it seemed. One that you could not put a name to, one that you could not ignore. One that occupied your last thoughts before sleep, even though your heart sang out to someone else.
The ball– the main event of the year-end festivities– was to take place two days after the arrival of the guests, allowing them a period of rest. However, for most of the princes and princesses, time was short and they intended to make the most of it.
That meant that you spent basically every waking moment together. From breakfast in the Great Hall, unsupervised by the king and the queen so that you could all let loose a little, to lounging in the studies or music rooms, snacking endlessly while stressing about staying in shape for the dance, to the best part.
The late night chit chats.
“So I told Soojin that she needs to do something about that husband of hers,” Wooyoung announced as a matter-of-factly. “That man is too controlling, and while a wife is supposed to respect her husband, she is still a human first and foremost, and she has needs. The husband needs to respect his wife too.”
“Thank you,” you sighed in agreement, horrified to hear about how your best friend, Princess Soojin of Utopia, was already having trouble in her marriage. You had attended her wedding about 7 months ago. She had been married to a duke’s son in Mist so Wooyoung was well-aware of her relationship status. You were glad that Soojin had someone like Wooyoung at her side, at a time like this. You wished you could be there for her too.
“I warned her that her man is an arse, but she was charmed, and I don’t blame her,” Minjeong said. “That man is known for his talent in wooing ladies. He doesn’t care about the traditions much.”
“Why would Soojin marry someone like him?” Sieun wondered. As the youngest, she probably found the situation ridiculous.
“These relations are usually decided upon by the elders,” Yunho reminded gently. “As a princess, it would have been Soojin’s duty to obey an order from her parents.”
“She could have said no,” Hongjoong commented casually, eyes fixated on the book that he had picked up. He sat in the corner by the fire, slightly away from where the rest of you were crowded at the sofas. “But like Minjeong said, she must have fallen prey to his wooing. If she can bend the traditions, she could have certainly done a little more by saying no.”
“I suppose it’s tough for girls,” San, the elder prince of the Choi brothers, added. “I know how tough it was for our sister when it was her time.”
“I agree,” you said. “If you grow up learning how important it is to respect your customs and traditions, it’s hard to do anything otherwise,” you intentionally stared at Hongjoong. He looked up from his book and matched your stare. “Wonder how you can say these things so easily.”
“It’s because these traditions are not law. They are manmade in the end, made by senile old men,” Jongho concluded and Hongjoong sent him a grateful smile. Even though Jongho was the most reserved person you knew, he was like Hongjoong in the sense that no tradition or law would hold him back from doing what he thought was right. “Some practices should change with time. You’re telling me that us sitting and conversing like this might be considered improper just because the sun has set? What’s the sun got to do with anything?”
“Real men sin in the daylight!” San said loudly and jokingly and Wooyoung clapped, unable to contain his laugh. Soon, the conversation took a humorous turn, almost becoming a finger-pointing session.
One by one, the princes and princesses said their farewell for the night. The ball was tomorrow night and some needed to catch up on sleep while the others still had to worry about matching this year’s theme of masquerade. It must have been around 10 when you were left with Yunho and Hongjoong.
You were discussing your mask designs with Yunho, but you could see from the corner of your eye that Hongjoong had stopped reading and was watching the two of you. Yunho was perhaps unaware of his gaze and he continued to tell you about the last masquerade ball that he attended in some other kingdom. While he recalled his adventures there, you mustered up courage to look at Hongjoong questioningly.
Except he wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. He acted as if you were the one making him uncomfortable, refusing to look away.
“Ah, there you both go again,” Yunho commented, looking between you two. He shook his head in amusement. “What’s wrong this time?”
“He’s staring,” you pointed.
“She’s staring. I didn’t start it.”
“Hongjoong, you were literally looking at me like this–” you mimicked his facial expressions and Yunho curled inwards as he laughed silently. “What was I supposed to do when you looked like I killed your cat?”
“I must have zoned out!” Hongjoong’s voice raised slightly. “So technically, I didn’t start it. You did. You could have waved at me and I would have broken out of my trance and went to my book. Instead, you had to–”
This time, Hongjoong mimicked you and Yunho stifled his laugh only because you looked at him in warning, daring him to make a sound. Yunho pretended to zip his lips, thoroughly enjoying the banter. As usual.
While Hongjoong complained to Yunho about your behaviour, you smiled to yourself as you recalled a memory from a couple of years ago.
“You tend to stare into the distance a lot,” You commented when you found Hongjoong’s eyes fixed at the reflection of the moon in his garden’s pond. “Why do you do that?”
“Sometimes, I find something beautiful. I look at it and get lost thinking about it,” Hongjoong admitted. Yunho, who was sitting nearby, tossed a pebble into the pond, making the moon’s reflection ripple. “See? Still beautiful.”
“You do that to people too, though,” you had noticed. “Sometimes, I catch you staring at me, but you’re not staring– you just zone out.”
“I must find you beautiful then,” Hongjoong thought, and instantly pretended to choke on his words, making Yunho laugh. You folded your arms in horror.
“Kim Hongjoong! That is very rude!”
“I jest, my dear,” Hongjoong grinned. “You are a beautiful little thing, but only when you shut that mouth.”
“Oh,” Yunho gasped scandalously. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“I can’t tell,” you were devastated.
“I’ll let you ponder over it,” Hongjoong said.
“Look at her!” Hongjoong’s loud voice pulled you out of your trance. “Now she’s zoning out, smiling like that. It looks weird!”
“That’s exactly how it felt to me,” you cried out, sinking further down into the sofa.
Did Hongjoong really find you beautiful?
You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought and asked, “What are your plans for the masquerade, Joong?”
“Well…” the elder prince folded his arms. “The usual, I suppose. Stick to the corner and hover like a bat, praying no one notices me.”
“But you’re an incredible dancer– not better than Yunho, of course,” you said and Yunho straightened proudly. “But you have a way with your dances. I just know that the girls would love to have a dance with you. Are you planning to let them down?”
“Of course I am,” Hongjoong looked appalled at the idea. “You know how much I despise it.”
It wasn’t dancing or the girls he despised. It was the watchful eyes of the adults that irked him to death. Slightly wrong hand placement would earn him an earful, so he would rather not dance at all.
“Well, good thing that this ball is a masquerade. I hope your mask does well hiding your identity.”
“Ah… I forgot…” Hongjoong relaxed, his scheming face on. “I suppose I could have a little fun then. I’m going to make sure the elders have enough gossip to last them the entire year.”
“Hongjoong!” This time, Yunho was the one calling his friend out. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
“Stupid? Me?” Hongjoong looked at you deviously. “Never.”
“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” you declared and Yunho agreed. “What do you plan to do, Yunho? Monitor Joong like the elders? Or are you gonna let loose?”
“One of us letting loose is enough,” Yunho sighed. “I’ll do the monitoring.”
“Don’t let it take the fun out of the night, though. I expect to be exhausted to death dancing tomorrow night, and I expect that I will be able to blame you for that.”
“Ah, of course,” Yunho gleamed. “You bet.”
That was a challenge, and Yunho was a man of his word. You knew this was coming, so you had prepared your best heels for the night– black to match the gems on your emerald gown, comfortable enough to give the entire tour of the premises in them.
Your mask covered everything except the area around your lips and your chin. Your lashes peeked through the black net borders of the mask and paired with the earthy tones of your lips, it left a deep impression. You did not want to be recognised tonight. You simply wanted to have fun.
Your guards accompanied you to the ballroom before the guests arrived. You made sure that everything was in place– the tables lining the walls of the ballroom decorated with refreshments and drinks, the musicians at the corner of the room ready, and guards at the entrance to confirm everyone’s identity. Since this was a masquerade, there was a chance of an intruder sneaking in. It wouldn’t be new, for the year-end parties were susceptible to attacks. It was the perfect opportunity to strike multiple birds with one stone.
The guests were starting to arrive, filling the ballroom slowly. They stuck to their partners or if they recognised each other, they formed groups, admiring each other’s outfits for the night. You did not greet anyone just yet– you would surprise them later.
The King and the Queen arrived next, taking their place at the second level of the ballroom so that they could peer down. From their spot, the entire ballroom was in their vision and they could monitor anyone they wanted to. You hoped that instead of watching you, they would simply gossip and have fun. Coming up with an idea, you found the court members and asked them to keep your mother and father entertained. That translated to sending the dukes and marquesses and anyone of importance in their direction. Hopefully they would keep them busy enough for you to disappear out of their sight.
For a second, you paused. Why did you wish to remain unmonitored tonight? All that was happening tonight was dances and good conversation. You would be dancing with Yunho mostly, and he was the most gentlemanly. Even if your mother would be watching you, she wouldn’t find any reason to reprimand you. Yunho wouldn’t let that happen.
Was it just because your mother was too watchful? You knew your limits. She was wholly aware that you respected the sacred tradition very much and you never engaged in improper behaviour. You did not wish to cross any boundaries with Yunho– he was someone who deeply respected this tradition too. He liked you, and he would wait for you. You could do the same.
At that moment, your attention was caught by a man in all-black outfit. Hongjoong. It had to be him. You would recognise that relaxed gait anywhere. Besides, his mask hardly concealed his elfish features.
Hongjoong’s eyes found you in a matter of seconds and he started to walk towards you. You looked behind you and with a startle, you realised that he had recognised you. From so far away.
“Planning to hide for the entirety of the event?” Hongjoong asked, grabbing a cherry from the waiter that zoomed past you.
“Am I very recognisable despite the mask?” You drew it lower on your face.
“Not sure. Tell me who to avoid tonight.”
“Hmm…” you folded your arms and stood next to him, eyes scanning the crowd. “The duke’s niece– the one in orange next to the tall man. She’s aiming to score a prince and while that is not a bad thing, I’m sure you’ll only break her heart before she even gets to try. Then there’s the count’s daughter, next to the piano in that pink dress. Oh, that dress is so pretty… anyways, she is talkative and I know you don’t really like that.”
“You’re the most talkative person I know,” Hongjoong commented.
“Yes, but I’m me. You’ve known me since we were kids, so it doesn’t count. Besides, we’re not pursuing each other romantically, so even if you tell me that I’m talkative, I wouldn’t care.”
“And if Yunho tells you that you talk too much?”
“He would never,” you gasped at his audacity. “Where is he anyway?”
“Stressing about one thing or another, I suppose. I think it was his shoes this time…”
“Isn’t that usually your job? You arrived earlier than usual tonight.”
“Fashionably late only when I’m not hiding behind a mask,” Hongjoong winked. “No one cares tonight.”
“I do,” you said and he looked at you. “I mean… you’re talking too much. You should have taken some more time fixing your hair or whatever keeps you in your room for so long.”
“I’m talking too much?” Hongjoong shook his head. “There comes your prince.”
“Ah, how handsome,” you said dreamily at the sight of your tall prince dressed in all white with accents of gold. “Did you both do black and white on purpose?”
“Purely coincidental.”
“It suits you,” you said and Hongjoong could tell that you meant it. You ran your gaze over him slowly. “The black… it suits you very much, Joong.”
Hongjoong’s mouth suddenly felt dry. He opened his mouth to thank you, but decided against it.
You only smiled, waiting for Yunho to spot you. However, his eyes ran past you and he continued to look around as if waiting for you to spot him. For a second, you found it funny that he missed you until you recalled that Hongjoong had spotted you from even further.
Naturally, you turned to Hongjoong. Unbelievable, you thought, that he had pinned you from so far away while Yunho was still struggling to find you. As if Hongjoong had read your mind, his eyes grew just a little wide.
You looked away, waiting, praying for Yunho to recognise you. It wasn’t until he walked a few steps in your direction that he almost looked past you and did a double-take. Did he recognise you, or did he recognise Hongjoong first? You would not dare to ask.
“Princess!” He sprinted towards you, grinning in apology. “Apologies for my tardiness.”
“Forget that. You were having trouble finding me,” you decided to address the elephant between you and Hongjoong.
“Apologies for that too, I was still in panic mode. I was stopped three times for chit-chat before I made it here, and I thought that you would be mad that I’m late…” Yunho extended his hand and you placed your hand in his, rolling your eyes. He kissed your knuckles softly.
“Apologies accepted.”
Yunho grinned, turning towards Hongjoong. “Looking for a partner tonight?”
“No thanks,” he muttered. “My partner is cherries and whiskey.”
“Come, now,” Yunho said. “At least participate in the main dance.”
“You must, or else mother will be cross,” you pointed at the Queen, finding her already looking at you. She waved at the three of you and the princes bowed in respect. “She’s going to be watching us all night.”
“And I can’t disappoint her,” Hongjoong groaned. “Fine. Just the main dance, and then you both let me hover in a corner. Don’t stop having fun on my account.”
“Deal,” Yunho said. “Now… shall we dance?”
You grinned and took his hand, letting him steer you to the dance floor. The music playing right now was a playful beat, meant to make the participants let loose and do their warm-ups before the highlight.
The highlight was a circular formation dance. Initially, everyone is paired with their partner for the night, but the dance lasts almost half an hour, sometimes more. The duration depends on the number of pairs so that every pairing gets equal time. Each person takes turns switching their partners.
You and Yunho practised for the highlight just like everyone else. The dance seemed to be ingrained into Yunho and it came very naturally to him. He reminded you of how to manage your steps if paired with someone as tall as him, or with someone shorter. A slight difference in your movements could make your dance appear more graceful.
“You look stunning tonight, by the way,” Yunho told you. “The emerald dress…”
“Do you remember?” You asked. He nodded, his eyes glazed with fondness.
It was a memory from the last time you met. You and Yunho sneaked out with just your handmaid and a guard and took to the markets under a disguise. You went to a fabrics shop and tested so many colours that you lost count. However, it was the emerald that had Yunho look like a lovesick puppy.
“It makes me want to confess again,” Yunho referred to that memory. “Remind you that I can’t take my eyes off you, no matter where we are or what we are doing. I adore you, y/n. You’re my best friend and I’m absolutely honoured that you are giving me a chance.”
Similar to the confession he made that time. His words were molten honey and they sent warmth coursing throughout your entire body.
“I could say the same,” you said. “I… I really can’t imagine a life without you, Yunho. Don’t you ever leave me.”
“Never,” he promised, sealing it with a kiss on top of your head. “Even if you decide, for some reason, that you cannot take me as yours… I’ll always be your friend.”
“That won’t happen. Whatever reason would I ever have to reject you? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Thank you,” Yunho sounded genuine. “I wish I could sink to my knees and propose to you right now, but you know why I have to wait. My intentions are sincere, though.”
“Yunho!” You scolded, smacking his chest. “I have only one complaint and it is that you talk as if your words don’t have an effect on me!”
Yunho laughed almost sadistically. He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I do enjoy it when you get riled up.”
“Mother’s watching,” you warned. He grinned in response. “But to address your reasons, I’m aware. Neither you nor Hongjoong can announce an engagement before the matter of the crown is sorted.”
“Our fathers are working it out. It’s not everyday you have a kingdom where two kings have ruled and produced heirs to the throne.”
“And it’s certainly not everyday that they share such deep love and respect for each other that they are willing to give up the crown to the other,” you sighed happily. “People go as far as killing blood, yet here you are.”
“Here we are,” Yunho’s eyes scanned the crowd, finding Hongjoong and sharing a nod. “The elder prince willing to give up the crown to the younger if he proves himself worthy, and the younger prince refusing to take it.”
“Even though he is worthy,” you added. “You’re both equally worthy of the crown. I pray every night that your love for each other never wavers.”
Yunho nodded. He prayed the same.
The music started to change to a deeper, more melodic tune, signalling the young royals and everyone of importance to move and take formation. Yunho led you to your position and you stood by his side, waiting for the rest to join you.
From here, it was easy to spot each other. Wooyoung was dashing in red, paired with the talkative daughter of the count that you had mentioned to Hongjoong earlier. Jongho and Sieun seemed to have picked each other for the dance. Minjeong was paired with the duke’s youngest son. San was with someone you couldn't recognise. You scanned the pairs one by one until you found Hongjoong and almost sighed in relief.
He stood right across you, paired with the duke’s daughter, his hand holding hers. A wave of something hot struck you in the chest, threatening to suffocate you, but before you could deal with it, the music changed and Yunho squeezed your hand. “It’s time.”
You nodded and rested your hand on Yunho’s shoulder, the other clasped in his. His hand rested on your waist, steady and warm. You decided to address your feelings later and simply enjoy the dance.
And how could you not, when Yunho’s eyes dripped with love? He did not need to look around to make sure that he did not bump into anyone else– he was effortless with his moves, his attention solely devoted to you.
Your smile widened and you returned his gaze. From Yunho, you did not shy away. Not when his love was so innocent. Not when it came so naturally.
You continued to twirl in his hold, rotate and dip slightly, a performance worthy of the grandiose in which it was taking place. The masks must make the performance even better to the audience– the push and pull between the pairs, the moves when your faces were so close that they almost touched. The masks added a layer of excitement and curiosity.
And when Yunho drew close, although he was taller, he leaned down. He leaned just a bit so that his lips would brush against your ears, sending shivers down your spine. You giggled and he joined, letting you know that it was intentional.
He was sweet like that, only daring to tease occasionally, but when he did tease, oh, he could be a menace. The next brush of his lips was more than that. It was a kiss. You gasped and Yunho winked. “Act normal, love.”
“What’s got you all playful tonight?” You questioned. “In front of all these eyes!”
“Just a token of my love before I part with you,” Yunho said and before you could respond, he let go of your hand and you got pulled in by your next partner.
“Ah, here you are,” Wooyoung gleamed. “You look pretty tonight.”
“Thank you, I love your outfit!” You said while matching his steps. “Red is a daring choice.”
“And no one but me would take it,” he looked proud. “What do you think about my eyes?”
“Oh!” You laughed when you realised that he was wearing makeup and it was not just a shadow casted on his eyelids. “That is a brave choice and a very sensible one.”
Wooyoung agreed. He continued to tell you about his process regarding his costume and you shared yours. Just like that, you got shifted to the next partner who was a stranger. You exchanged pleasantries and danced silently. San had much to share and you both talked the whole time– gossip, or intel that he had gathered during his recent stay in Mist.
It took another partner before you got sent into Hongjoong’s arms. He moved with a fluidity that you were eager to match and once you both synced, you relaxed.
“Enjoying the night?” He asked.
“Very much,” you admitted. “How about you?”
“It’s not bad,” he admitted. You nodded– that was certainly acknowledgement from him. He twirled you once and smoothly had you in his arms again, making you smile.
“How do you and Yunho both dance so incredibly well?” You asked.
“That’s what happens when you are bored and decide to partner with each other,” Hongjoong said and you held back a laugh. His gaze shifted to your right and you hummed in confusion.
“You’ve got a loose curl,” Hongjoong said. “Mind if I fix that?”
“Can you?” You asked.
You had to pay attention to the dance to make sure you made no mistake, but to Hongjoong, dance was something he could do with his eyes closed. He didn’t answer you. He simply inserted the curl inside one of the pins with deft fingers and then tucked some hair behind your ear.
Then his eyes found yours, and he rested his hand on your shoulder. Slowly, painfully slow so that perhaps, it would go unnoticed, he slid his hand down your bare arm. When his hand found purchase back on the dip of your waist, you could not decide if you wished to complain about the lack of touch on your bare skin or thank him for bringing his hand back to your waist, the absence of which had left your skin feeling hollow despite the lack of touch.
“Comfortable?” Hongjoong asked. You nodded.
His hand slid upwards just a fraction. His thumb caressed the fabric of the dress, sending a hot trail of fire in its wake until it paused dangerously close to the curve of your breast.
“Now?” He asked, voice lower than before.
“I… I’m good,” you assured him.
You were comfortable, yes, but you were not good. Yunho’s hands were big enough to assume the same position and that had sent butterflies in your stomach. However, Hongjoong’s intentional placement set your skin on fire. Whenever you pulled away from each other, his hands would find their place back exactly there, never missing. His gaze was heavy as if he had too much to drink. When he moved closer to assume the intimate dance position, his lips parted and face dipped as if he wanted to capture something between his lips, yet…
Yet he refused to let his lips touch you. Somehow, that vexed you, and then you were wondering again of the reasons behind such feelings.
When he pulled you close, his hand squeezed the skin on your waist. Your breath hitched and his nose brushed with yours in the slightest. Before any of you could make another move or address the ones already made, you were changing partners.
It wasn’t until you were back to Yunho for the final bit that you stopped thinking about the way your heads had tilted to accommodate each other for something more, something dangerous, right before you had to switch partners.
Though Yunho kept you thoroughly entertained throughout the rest of the event, one thing was clear.
There was something between you and Hongjoong. Something electric, dangerous but real.
You could not stay away from each other. You had never been able to. Hongjoong always found you, and you always found him. You could not stop testing boundaries– touching each other casually until it was not very casual, just like he had tonight at the dance. Just like you let him kiss you on the cheek or on your temple whenever he wanted without complaining.
The thing was that what you and Yunho had was just as real, if not more. You were positive that your love for Yunho was a romantic one. You yearned to hold him, touch him without any watchful eyes, and kiss him stupid. You wished to spend the rest of your life in his arms– that is the idea that you fell asleep to every night. Your restraint and his was simply out of respect for each other, but that did not mean that you did not love each other. You loved him.
So then what was it that you felt for Hongjoong? You loved him as a friend, just like you loved the rest of your friends– no, you definitely loved him more than the rest of your friends. However… did your love change shape at some point? When did that happen?
Was it the time he found you crying alone and wiped your tears? Was it because he always found you when Yunho got stolen away so that you were never alone? Was it when he told you that you were beautiful, as if he had every right to use that word for you?
So many memories that you had made with him, yet you were unable to pinpoint a single one that could hint at the beginning of this shift.
Did Hongjoong feel as restless as you, or was this all in your head?
Since the main event of the year-end festivities was over, you were back to prioritising your royal duties before any recreational activities, though you still made time for horse-riding yesterday and archery in the morning. The guests would be here for another two weeks so you supposed you could spare some time later.
For now, you needed to address the security concerns arising because of the trade-conflict between Wonderland and Neverland. There was also the matter of Neverland’s refusal to join this year’s celebrations– was it because they were hosted at Wonderland? Were they trying to make an enemy out of your kingdom?
The trade-conflict has been going on for about 6 months now. Since the only way to reach Neverland was a sea route and the storms had been deadly this season, the sailors from Wonderland were being cautious or refusing to make this journey. The King allowed reprieve but Neverland sent a message, clearly angry about the delay and refusing to understand your reasons.
Not joining this year was a clear message, but they were also refusing to break the trade contract since it was the easiest to get their cotton from Wonderland. For Wonderland, they could make a land route to Kiji to make up for their machinery that they otherwise got from Neverland,, even though it would be of a lower quality, but Neverland seemed to have no other choice.
You wouldn’t be surprised if Neverland took a big, wrong step. This morning, the guards had arrested bandits trying to enter the grounds. The bandits were claiming to be from Neverland. It would only be a matter of time before a more deadly group made an attack.
Was it wise for Wonderland to send the guests back at a time like this? They were safer inside. What if they got compromised during their journey? Wonderland would not be able to recover from such a damage.
However, if someone got attacked inside the castle, that would be equally as worse, if not more. You were getting exhausted but you had to share your input tonight.
A knock sounded and Yunho entered the study, dressed in a casual outfit of black slacks and white shirt. He waved and you straightened, failing to stifle a yawn. You stretched your arms and Yunho laughed, coming behind your chair and massaging your shoulders.
“You’ve been holed up here all afternoon,” Yunho said. “Anything I can help with?”
“Hmmm… security concerns, mainly,” you offered, wondering if it would be wise to share with him. Yunho was one of the best strategists of your time.
“Neverland?” Yunho guessed. You looked up at him but he shrugged. “They didn’t attend. I think it’s obvious why.”
“Take a seat,” you said and he brought his chair near you so that you could show him the map. “We wish to be prepared in case of an attack. Bandits were arrested this morning, claiming to be trade workers from Neverland who were running low on money. We’ve stationed more guards here,” you pointed at the wall nearest to the guest chambers, “and strengthened security near the forest.”
Yunho nodded. “I suppose you could station more guards inside too, near the chambers.”
“It might worry the guests.”
“Better safe than sorry. You can make up an excuse about being careful, but it’s better not to compromise their security.”
“Do you think it’s better if the guests leave?” You relaxed back in your chair and asked. “I’m worried about the guests exiting Wonderland safely, but I’m also worried about an attack inside the grounds. What if they wish to leave but we cannot let them go? The conflict will blow up.”
Yunho folded his arms, thinking for a few moments. “Do you suppose you could arrange more recreational activities? Something to keep the guests engaged until a clear, safe route is arranged for their departure?”
“I reckon we could,” you agreed. “We just have to make sure the guests are not bored, right?”
“Yes,” Yunho said. “In case someone has to leave early, have the royal guards create a distraction. They could pretend to accompany someone of importance while the actual guest leaves casually through a busy route. A busy, slightly unsafe route is better than a safe but empty route.”
“True,” you clapped. “Jeong Yunho. You’re brilliant.”
Yunho’s lips drooped in a shy smile. “Come on. I’m sure you would have come up with it too.”
“Yeah, after another all-nighter,” you laughed. “What are the rest up to?”
“Hongjoong is holed up in his room too. I think he came up with a few designs and he really wanted to note them down,” Yunho said. “The rest are in the garden having tea and playing ball.”
“It’s been a while since I heard of his hobby,” you referred to Hongjoong. “Does he still do that?”
“Not very often, but when he does, it’s great work. He must have been inspired after seeing all the fancy gowns and suits at the ball.”
You nodded. “And you? Missing me?”
“Very much so,” Yunho leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and looking at you lovingly. “I wanted to… talk.”
“Go ahead,” you said, mirroring his position.
“You’re aware that I wish to marry you,” he began and you nodded. “And that I’m only delaying because I cannot bring you into the current political mess at my place. You should not have to deal with it.”
“Yunho,” you placed your hand on his arm. “I can deal with anything as long as I am with you.”
“I wish to make you my wife,” Yunho’s voice was low and sweet, his eyes dripping with love. “But I also want it to be clear if you would be just a princess for the rest of your life or a queen in the future. You deserve to make our choice after factoring that.”
“I do not care if you are a prince, a king or exiled,” you said and Yunho narrowed his eyes, the two of you sharing a laugh. “I only need you by my side. My status doesn’t matter. Being a princess… it’s not all that. Being a queen of a nation… it’s a job that demands the utmost perfection and I’m scared of that title.”
“But you would be so perfect, my love,” Yunho squeezed your hand. “You deserve to be a queen more than anyone else.”
“Thank you,” you meant it. “I don’t mind waiting. My parents are not pressuring me about marriage right now. They know that we wish to be together, and they would also rather wait until the situation is clear, so stop apologising for making me wait. Every moment that I wait makes our time together even more beautiful.”
Yunho smiled warmly at that, kissing your palm and lingering there. “You’re perfect. My family, and Hongjoong’s… we can’t wait to have you with us.”
Your smile must have fallen just a bit, but Yunho was a very sensitive person. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all,” you said but Yunho shook his head.
“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Yunho scanned your face. “I would never judge you.”
“I know,” you assured. “I guess it’s just overwhelming. Hongjoong… has he ever addressed our relationship?”
“Well… he knows that we intend to marry,” Yunho took a deep breath. “We haven’t talked about you like that, though. He knows that I’m waiting for the situation to solve before I officially propose. He adores you, you know.”
“He does?”
“Of course he does,” Yunho said. “I thought it was clear?”
“I mean…” the weight of Yunho’s hand on yours was starting to feel heavy. “We usually just argue about this and that. Unserious arguments.”
“He’s always looking out for you,” Yunho smiled. “I know because I’ve seen him. His eyes always find you. I think he is very fond of you, y/n.”
“That’s… a relief, I suppose,” you laughed nervously. “How’s your mother? Is she okay with us?”
“More than okay,” Yunho grinned. “She’s your biggest fan.”
“That’s lovely,” you grinned and Yunho kissed your hand again, his gaze honey with a hint of darkness that you hadn’t seen before.
“What are you thinking?” You whispered.
“That I can’t wait to make you mine,” Yunho said in a low voice, sparing a glance at the slightly open door. “That I can’t wait to kiss those soft lips of yours.”
“Yunho!”
“Stop pouting,” he warned, “I’m just a man.”
“Well…” you cleared your throat, attempting to pull your hand away but he held on, his eyes stuck on your lips. “Jeong Yunho. Respect your traditions and stop looking at me as if you want to eat me alive.”
Yunho chuckled deeply. “Ah… the things I wish I could do to you. It’s a shame that I have to wait,” he said and got up, cupping your face and kissing your forehead. “Join us for dinner. Don’t skip your meals.”
“I’m too tired to socialise,” you pouted again and Yunho swiped his thumb over your lower lip, raising his brow in a warning. You immediately straightened, but a part of you was tempted to find if he would cross the line.
“Join me and Hongjoong then,” Yunho offered. “We’ll be in our chamber.”
“That… I can do,” you agreed. Yunho nodded, taking one final look at you, almost struggling to part from you but he did eventually, and you were left breathless from his mere gaze, wishing he could have done more.
Damn the traditions, a voice in your head said. You shook those thoughts away.
~
Accompanied by your guard and handmaid, you arrived at the guest chambers, hoping you would not run into anyone else. You really were tired tonight, but you could not reject Yunho’s offer to dine with him.
And Hongjoong. To dine with them both.
You could convince yourself that it was just because you wanted some time alone with your boys– it had been so long since the three of you had spent time together, and time together was always well-spent and memorable. You could convince yourself that it was for old times’ sake, but you could not deny that you wanted to see Hongjoong and really feel him out.
What Yunho had said about Hongjoong stuck with you. He adores you. His eyes always find you. You had not noticed that, no. Perhaps, you had been too busy looking at Yunho all this time to care for someone else.
But he is Hongjoong, your heart sang.
You still do not need to care about anyone else, your head retorted.
The guard knocked on their door and Yunho opened, welcoming you inside. Your handmaid entered with you, acting as your chaperone but she let you be, opting to rest in the study while the three of you dined in private. She would have company there with Yunho and Hongjoong’s maids and they would dine together.
“Let me call Hongjoong– he refuses to come out of his room,” Yunho said apologetically and you shook your head. The table was set so you took a seat, waiting.
It looked like it took some convincing for Hongjoong to finally come out. Your eyes slightly widened at his appearance– buttons of his shirt undone revealing his finely toned chest, hair a mess and sticking in every direction and eyes tired.
“How many meals have you missed?” You asked, filling a plate for him and making sure it was without vegetables– he really wasn’t a fan of them.
“Just… lunch. And breakfast. I did eat an apple, though… I think?”
Yunho looked at you helplessly and you motioned for him to take a seat too. You passed Hongjoong his plate and ordered him to eat. He shot you a glare.
“I’m working on something, and it is imperative that I finish before I lose my thought train,” Hongjoong said, the fork in his hand hovering mid-air. “I don’t have the luxury to dine and chat right now.”
“Then eat and leave,” you simply said. “I won’t disturb you.”
Yunho chuckled at the interaction, realising that you were right– you both really did argue a lot. He served you some more baked potatoes and started coming up with recreational activities for the next week. You left Hongjoong to eat in silence but it was clear that he didn’t mind the company while he ate, even though he wasn’t contributing.
His presence was enough for you both.
Yunho had almost finished his meal when a guard knocked on the door and let him know that the King wished to discuss some matter regarding his father. Yunho looked at you, apologising for leaving when he himself had invited you.
“It’s okay, you should go. I know father has been wanting to talk,” you said. “I’ll finish and leave.”
“Make sure Hongjoong stops playing with his food too, please,” Yunho said and Hongjoong scowled at the younger prince, making him chuckle as he left.
Then it was just the two of you. Unchaperoned. You could feel heat rush to your cheeks but you managed to finish the rest of your meal in silence. Hongjoong was slower, though, deep in thought.
“Hongjoong,” you called softly. “I think you should rest. You look tired.”
“No, I’m fine,” he insisted, speeding up a little. “Just visualising some details so I don’t lose them.”
“Can I ask what you’re working on?”
Hongjoong looked at you. There you were– the same curious little child that used to sneak up on him and watch him draw in silence, sometimes so silent that you would scare him. He smiled.
“Just some gowns,” he said, wondering what to say next. “Playing with colours and fabric.”
“Can I see?”
Could Hongjoong say no when you asked so sweetly? “I suppose you could… but only what I allow you to,” he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare try to get sneaky.”
“Won’t promise,” you grinned. “You know how curious I can get. Come on, since when do you hide your designs from me?”
“I can do whatever I want,” Hongjoong finished his meal. “Gotta teach you that curiosity can kill the cat.”
“But satisfaction brings it back,” you grinned, following him to his room.
“Good lord,” you looked around. There was fabric and pages everywhere, no place to step without crushing something. “Can I at least sort this mess?”
“Do not touch anything,” Hongjoong scolded, almost tripping as he hopped towards the desk. “I know where everything is.”
“But Joong,” you cried out. “If I organise it, it will be easier and less time consuming for you to reach for a fabric or for the stones. You know I’m good at it.”
“I know, but I can manage–”
“Shut up and get to work,” you folded your arms. “I’ll take care of this.”
Hongjoong immediately straightened, internally scared of your raging need for organisation. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good.”
Hongjoong watched you for a bit but eventually decided to resume working on his designs. You were as silent as you could be, occasionally calling to tell him your organisation method and where to reach to grab something. The fabrics were stacked in rows, the pages all spread on his bed and finally, it was time to collect the pearls and beads that were scattered across the room.
When you were done collecting them in little boxes, you set them on his desk. He didn’t look up, currently bent over his diary and drawing something. You perched yourself on his desk, trying to sneak a peek.
When he was done, he relaxed back, almost jumping in his chair when he spotted you. “Goodness. Can’t you make some noise?”
“I was breathing,” you said. “I assumed that would be loud enough for you… hey, that looks like the gown I wore to the ball.”
“It is,” he admitted. “I’m altering it. I thought that a different shade of green would compliment your skin tone more, and if we added some pearls and net details…”
Hongjoong continued to ramble, going about how he also took inspiration from Minjeong’s dress. While he talked, you grabbed his diary and started to go through it.
Sketches upon sketches of the most beautifully designed dresses, often with fabrics and beads glued or sewn into the thick pages for reference. However, the model or the muse seemed to be the same, no matter what. It always featured the same curls that you often wore, or the little scar on your back–
Hongjoong stopped talking. “I told you not to go through it.”
You looked at him. “You still remember this scar?”
Hongjoong remained silent. You were both thinking about the same memory from about two years ago in Eden when you had all gone hunting and you had gotten lost when you couldn’t find your way back to the rest due to heavy rain. Hongjoong had managed to find you, but the storm got worse so you both took refuge inside a cave.
Since it was incredibly cold and you were drenched and shivering, Hongjoong could only offer his arms as a relief. You sat wedged between his legs, embraced by him. He rested his head on top of yours, murmuring about how relieved he was that you were safe. You clung to his arms, both scared and relieved.
Your dress was torn a little at your upper back when a branch got stuck in your clothes. Hongjoong spotted the fresh wound then, the shape of a bow. He asked you about it and through chattering teeth you told him that you must have received this when you fell tumbling down a path a few moments before he found you. You thought you felt Hongjoong’s fingertip trace the wound but you didn’t say anything. You only shut your eyes, waiting for the storm to subside so you could go back.
A part of you had wished that the storm did not subside so soon, so that you could feel his strong arms embrace you for a little longer, so that he could continue to touch your skin with his fingers, so that he would continue to murmur sweet nothings into your ear.
It seemed like he had not forgotten that memory. Whenever he sketched your back in his diary, the scar made a feature too.
“Am I your muse, Kim Hongjoong?” You tilted your head. He looked up at you, the moonlight casting shadows under his cheekbones.
“Maybe you are,” he said almost casually. “Do you mind?”
“I don’t think so…” you admitted, taking a deep breath. “As long as I get to wear one of your designs someday.”
“A wedding dress… can I design your wedding gown, my dear?”
You frowned. While the thought of him designing your wedding dress was extremely enticing, some other thoughts were plaguing your mind. “Do you wish to see me as a bride that badly?”
“I… I wish to see you as a bride, yes,” Hongjoong leaned forward. “I imagine you as a bride, dressed in the softest shade of white that you can get in the highest quality of silk that we have in Eden– one that glimmers under the sun.”
Hongjoong stood up, scanning your body. You suddenly felt exposed but you didn’t move.
“I imagine pearls as your complementary choice of jewellery. The pearls from Neverland– they have this distinct shade of blue to them that would go very well with your undertones. I imagine the pearls to be a part of the dress– here,” he pressed his thumb against your collarbone without hesitation, a designer and not a prince right now. “A neckline that exposes your collarbones and shoulders, since you have a beautiful shoulder cut. The dress would hug your bodice but I suppose we could make the back deeper. Would you mind exposing your scar?”
“I– I don’t know,” you admitted, too distracted by his fingertips against your sternum right now.
“I suppose we could adjust the back depending on that. A dip of your neckline here, and then…” he traced his hands against your thighs. “The fabric would hug your curves beautifully and modestly, just like you prefer. I suppose it could be more flowy towards the knees,” he continued to trace his hand down all the way to your ankles and you gasped when his hands made contact with your bare ankles. “I think a pearl outline to the first layer of the dress would look heavenly. Paired with your pearl jewellery and the pearl-embedded crown of Eden, a net veil with zircons scattered over it…
“Y/n, you would make the most beautiful bride,” Hongjoong finished, breathing and finally realising that he was holding your ankles. With you perched on the desk, he was almost eye-level and you could see his pupils dilate.
“You would design such a beautiful gown for my wedding? I’m not your bride,” you reminded him.
“It would both be the greatest honour,” he whispered, tracing your cheekbone, looking as if he was drugged. “And the cruelest punishment for me.”
“Cruelest punishment?” You echoed. “Do you hate me?”
“Hate?” Hongjoong’s brows furrowed. “Do you think that I could ever hate you?”
“Then what is this, Hongjoong?” You clasped his hand, gulping but letting it remain there so he could cradle your jaw. “What are you doing when you clearly know that I’m basically betrothed to Yunho?”
“You’re right,” Hongjoong sighed, trying to bring himself out of this trance. “I respect Yunho a lot. I would never do something to disappoint him and risk our friendship. I respect you too, y/n. I…” he pulled his hand away from your face but you held on, making sure not to let him go. You wanted him to finish saying whatever he was thinking. “I respect the fact that you both value your traditions but good heavens, dear. If it were up to me, I would…”
“Say it,” you commanded after a few moments of silence. You simply could not take the look in his eyes anymore.
Hongjoong shook his head, attempting to pull his hand but you grabbed his other hand too, pulling him towards you. Closer. So close that you could feel his breath caress your face.
“I’m not so innocent even though I practise restraint, so say whatever you are thinking. Forget about Yunho for a moment.”
Hongjoong’s gaze darkened. “Do you even realise what you’re asking for?”
“Your heart,” you nodded. “I wish to learn what you think about me, however… unfiltered that may be. You… you’re confusing me, occupying my thoughts and my heart and I need to make sense of it before I make a mistake, Joong. I love Yunho, don’t get me wrong, but I… I need to hear what you think of me, or else it will kill me.”
“Y/n,” Hongjoong squeezed your hands. “Go back. You need to leave.”
“No.”
Hongjoong took a deep breath. “If you learn what I would do to you if you were mine, if I… if I speak my mind about what I wish I could do to you right now…” Hongjoong looked away for a moment, collecting the last shreds of his sanity. “They would crucify me, love. So leave. What I think about you does not matter. You are Yunho’s.”
This time, you didn’t fight back when he pulled away from you. He went to the window, staring outside, the muscles in his face taut from tension.
“I’ve spent most of my life with Yunho,” you said, standing up and getting ready to leave. “It was easy to fall in love with him. He’s everything that I have ever wanted, and he has always been there, but Hongjoong… so have you. You have always been present with me and Yunho, watching and waiting, sometimes offering solace while other times, offering silence. If you had asked me to be yours before Yunho did, I would have said yes to you because no matter how much I think, I feel like my heart has always been split into two.”
“What do you mean?” Hongjoong looked at you, distraught.
“Make of that what you will,” you said, tired. “I’m done for the night, and I’m done explaining myself.” You left his room and made your way outside, your handmaid scurrying to accompany you.
Outside Hongjoong’s room hidden in a corner, a tall shadow stood for a few moments before disappearing elsewhere.
If there was one thing that the prince and princesses of your generation enjoyed, it was a good debate. Hence, the idea to have a few sessions where everyone would represent a kingdom that was not theirs was proposed by you. You could all shuffle the kingdoms or choose the one that you would like to represent. Since Neverland was not attending, Hongjoong decided to represent Neverland.
Yunho was representing your kingdom, Wonderland, and you were representing Eden since you were very familiar with the way they ran their kingdom. Wooyoung, San and Sieun switched among themselves. Jongho decided to act as a moderator since he was incredibly skilled at that.
Minjeong was opting to watch instead of participate– she was from a big family and not very involved in running the kingdom. Minjeong was going to score everyone based on how good their argument was and deduct points if someone crossed the line. Lastly, Jeongin was acting as the law– representing the crime courts of the land and navy.
A few days were spent with everyone gathering at the library to study about their assigned kingdoms and catch up with their latest trends directly with the actual nationals of those kingdoms. Jongho would join a group and make sure that the discussion would be unbiased since he was very well-versed with the current political climate.
It was only Hongjoong who had no one to discuss Neverland with. You and Yunho were spending most of the time together, exchanging information and debate points but though Hongjoong claimed to be okay, you knew that he was not aware of the recent trouble between your kingdom and Neverland.
You wondered if this was a good opportunity to let Hongjoong know. If he could raise the points about the trade-conflict in his discussion, you could observe and see if another kingdom was aware of this conflict and pretending otherwise. Perhaps, a kingdom could step up and offer an alliance. You discussed it with Yunho and he thought that it was wise to let Hongjoong know too.
However, he was busy coaching Jeongin tonight. The debates were starting tomorrow and you had no choice but to talk about this matter to Hongjoong directly. How would you face him now after basically confessing to each other that night in his room?
You were treading on such dangerous waters. This situation– the shift in the relationship between you two was so fragile. One wrong move and you could lose your title.
“Can’t you catch up with Hongjoong later tonight?” You begged Yunho one last time. He watched you with mild amusement.
“I told you that he has been going to bed early. I don’t know how long my session with Jeongin will take, but I have to help him out. It’s important for tomorrow,” Yunho patted your cheek. “Go talk to Hongjoong in private. It’ll be okay.”
“But…”
“Is there a reason you’re so queasy about meeting him?” Yunho raised a brow.
“Not really…” you faltered. “I’m just tired, I guess?”
Yunho scanned your eyes. “I’ll let Hongjoong know that you wish to talk to him. I feel like he has been giving you the cold shoulder lately. Did something happen between you two?”
“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Just teased him about his designs. Bet he’s salty about that.”
Yunho chuckled. “He’ll forgive you. He always does. I’ll be right back.”
You remained sitting at the desk in the library, palms growing sweaty with each passing moment while Yunho let Hongjoong know that you needed to discuss something important before tomorrow’s debate. You accidentally met eyes with Hongjoong and looked away in a flash, stifling a groan. How embarrassing.
Yunho came back and let you know that Hongjoong would be spending some time in the abandoned music room tonight. You could join him there.
You intended to. However, you intended to join him unsupervised. You could not risk guards or handmaids monitoring you.
And why not? Were you planning to do something that no one could see?
You were not. You simply wished to talk, however, you wanted to talk without eyes and ears around you. The matter of Neverland was sensitive. But… there was another matter just as sensitive.
Creating a distraction for the guards was easy enough. You asked them to accompany you to the adornment chamber, claiming that you would be spending quite a while there receiving massages and a long bath. However, you had ordered the handmaids there to clear the room earlier, claiming that you wished to bathe in private.
There was a secret passage in that room that connected to a few different rooms but eventually served as safe exits in case of a raid. You used that to access the music room. All you had to do was knock and wait.
Hongjoong opened the door behind the tapestry after a few moments, his sword pointed at you. He instantly relaxed when he realised that you were the intruder and he tossed the sword away. It was clearly not his and he must have searched for a weapon and found the decoratory sword.
“Whyever would you access the music room through this passage, Princess, and not that door over there?” Hongjoong stood with his hands on his hips, unrelenting.
“Privacy reasons,” you shrugged and moved past him.
“Privacy?” Hongjoong echoed, shocked. “Why would you want privacy here? We’re only discussing Neverland, not planning a coup. Besides, what would your mother say about coming here unchaperoned?”
“She is probably in her bed, reading a book and getting ready to sleep,” you twirled around to further tease the very pissed prince. “Relaxing. Maybe you should take a seat and relax too before we talk.”
“Y/n,” Hongjoong warned. “I’ll ask the guard to station himself inside–”
“Joong,” you called softly. “Just… sit. Relax. I know what I risk being here, but I trust you.”
“You trust me when I don’t trust myself around you,” Hongjoong said. You perched yourself on top of the piano, patting the space next to you. He ignored it. You ignored his statement.
“Neverland might attack Wonderland in the coming days,” you began. “I need you to learn about the conflict between us before our debate tomorrow and help me find if another kingdom is making alliances with Neverland to push against us.”
That immediately had Hongjoong’s attention. While you briefed him, he sat on the piano chair, occasionally playing some notes to let the guards know outside that he was still present and breathing. Hongjoong absorbed all information, his eyes narrowing as he schemed.
“I suppose I should poke everyone in the room. Especially those with strong ties to Neverland. They are all our friends, though. If they’re hiding an alliance with Neverland and scheming against Wonderland, it would be quite surprising.”
“Friendships change,” you reminded him. “Do you remember Junho? He was such a good friend until your kingdom had a conflict with theirs, and then he started to act like a solid ten years of friendship means nothing in the face of a petty conflict that can be solved through words.”
Hongjoong agreed. He straightened his legs and stretched his arms. “Friendships… do change. I just don’t like it when it happens. It leaves a bad aftertaste in your mouth even years later.”
You patted the space next to you again. This time, Hongjoong did sit next to you, though maintaining a distance and opting to stare at his boots.
“Our friendship… it has changed, hasn’t it?” You asked. “Does it leave a bad aftertaste too?”
“Not at all,” Hongjoong replied immediately. “It’s just… suffocating.”
Your heart hurt to hear those words. “Is there anything I can offer to make it better?”
“Then can you tell me how to deal with this suffocation?” You asked and Hongjoong looked at you. “Because every time I look at you, I wish to never look away. Every time we touch, I wish we never part. How do I deal with the suffocation of performing restraint?”
“Do you feel the same with Yunho?” Hongjoong asked.
“I do,” you admitted. “A couple of nights ago, he told me that he wanted to kiss me. It took every cell in my body to not make his wish come true, because we promised to respect the traditions.”
Hongjoong was silent for a few moments before he spoke. “You love Yunho and you want to be with him as soon as possible. I’m sorry that our political climate is delaying your wedding, but… what if you’re confused because you cannot be with Yunho right now? What if your feelings for me are just a product of your anger and exhaustion?”
His words struck like a whip at you. Your breath quickened and you clenched your jaw. Hongjoong noticed and he tried to take your hand in his but you pulled away as if his touch had burned you, aware of the hurt flashing in his eyes.
“Don’t you dare tell me how I feel about you, Joong,” you said in a low, warning tone. “When I have spent all my life searching for you in crowded rooms just as you have. When my eyes always find yours, just like yours find mine. Don’t you dare tell me when you do not know how much my heart yearns for you.”
“I… I’m so sorry,” Hongjoong’s voice was wet and he took your hand in both of his, peppering kisses. “I’m sorry to make assumptions, my love, but you have to be clear about what exactly you want. You can’t keep pulling me towards you when you don’t intend to keep me. I get hurt too.”
Your eyes immediately softened. “What are we going to do, Joong?”
“We can’t do this to Yunho. You know that… right?” Hongjoong slid closer, caressing your cheekbone. “As much as I love you, I can’t compromise my relationship with Yunho just because I was a coward who didn’t take my chance. I can’t compromise your honour just because I wish to learn what your lips… what you taste like before you leave me forever.”
Your heart swooped dangerously but you leaned closer, pausing.
This was not why you came here unchaperoned… right?
It didn’t matter. The traditions that you had respected all your life, you were willing to break. The sacred, silent vows to protect your chastity. Your mother’s warning to not engage in improper behaviour, your father’s gentle reminders… all down the drain, just to grant Hongjoong’s innocent wish.
“Are we really doomed?” You whispered. “If I… if I touch you now, are we dooming ourselves?”
“Probably,” Hongjoong breathed, his forehead joining with yours. As soon as the tip of his nose brushed with yours, you became molten in his touch, your mouth parting, waiting for more. Hongjoong parted gently, brows furrowed as if he was in physical pain. The corners of his lips drooped as he observed you.
The desire in your eyes for him… how could he have missed that?
Your hands went to clutch at his shirt near his collar and he groaned internally, unable to resist. He joined your foreheads again, only to plant a sweet kiss near your mouth, one that had you shivering uncontrollably in both anticipation and nervousness. He trailed his lips along your jaw, occasionally stopping to kiss or suck at your skin and your back arched against him, breathing becoming heavier with each passing second.
Hongjoong buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his lips planting a soft kiss on your collarbone too. He remained there for a long, long time, weighing the odds of his decision and gathering strength in his body to finally part from you.
“Hongjoong,” you called when he pulled away. He only shook his head.
“We can’t do this to Yunho,” he reminded you. His words slashed like a knife at your heart. “We owe him that much.”
He was right. Yunho had never questioned your and Hongjoong’s relationship because he trusted you both. You could not betray his trust like this.
Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, Hongjoong was not going to wipe them. He backed away slowly though every step hurt him.
“We are going to pretend that these intimate moments never happened between us,” Hongjoong steeled himself. “It’s best that you forget about me, love. I will continue to be your friend, or if you wish for me to give you space, I will do that, but let’s not betray our closest friend like this.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Tears streamed down your face.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Hongjoong shook his head, assuring you gently. “These feelings will fade. You have a life with Yunho ahead, and my biggest mission in life is to protect Yunho from any threat. I cannot be a threat to him. You understand, don’t you?”
“I do,” you nodded.
“Then go back to your room,” Hongjoong smiled, his own eyes glazed. “Tomorrow, when we meet, we will be just two friends who love to bicker. I will continue to be your shadow.”
“And I will continue to be your secretkeeper,” you completed and he nodded.
“I’m proud of you, my dear,” he smiled again. “I hope you know that.”
With that, he left the room, leaving you alone with the mess of your feelings. You struggled to breathe, wiping your tears away hastily.
You needed to find Yunho.
Oh, you had been the most awful to him, even though he did not know what the two of you had been up to in the shadows. You needed to touch him because he was what was real.
Hongjoong would not be going up to his room. He would probably take to the gardens to get some fresh air. Yunho might be back in his chambers. You decided to go to his chambers, not minding if anyone saw you.
Damned be the traditions. Whoever decided that these manmade traditions were as sacred as the law itself?
The guards let you inside and the servants inside offered to call Yunho, but you asked them to give you some privacy, saying there was an urgent political matter you needed to discuss with him. You would only take a few moments, you assured. Since they trusted you and Yunho, they went back to rest.
You knocked at Yunho’s room and he opened the door, surprised to find you. It looked like he was in the process of changing– the buttons of his shirt were undone and he wasn’t wearing his jacket that he had been earlier.
“Y/n? What are you doing here–”
You entered and shut the door behind you, throwing yourself at him in an embrace. Surprised, he hugged you back, rubbing your back. “Is something the matter?” He asked, worry lacing his tone.
“I…” you breathed, inhaling his scent. He smelled like the ocean and fresh flowers. It was your favourite scent in the world– even better than Hongjoong’s musk and vanilla scent. “Please, let me stay like this for a moment. I need to feel that you are real.”
“I am real, love,” Yunho laughed anxiously, rubbing your back. “Take your time.”
You did. Feeling his heartbeat synchronise with yours was satisfying enough but nowhere near enough after what Hongjoong had done. You needed more.
“Yunho,” you drew back, cradling his face and struggling to look up at the tall prince. “I need you to kiss me.”
“What?”
“I need you to kiss me,” you repeated, gaze stuck on his lips.
“Y/n,” Yunho called gently. “I cannot compromise your honour. We made a promise to respect the traditions, didn’t we?”
“Forget about the traditions for once, forget about stupid manmade concepts of honour and reverence of the throne,” you almost spat. “I need you to kiss me and remind me that you love me–”
“If you say it like this,” Yunho’s brows furrowed. He looked as if he was fighting an internal battle. “I’ll have no choice but to obey, but y/n, my love…” Yunho squeezed your sides. “Are you sure about this?”
“Did I ask for too much?” You sighed, looking for any signs of disappointment in his eyes but finding only curiosity. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I–”
To your surprise, Yunho didn’t let you finish. He leaned in and captured your lips in an experimental kiss, moving his lips along yours.
It was your first kiss. It was his first too. He moved his lips, alternating between soft pecks and deep, open-mouthed kisses. As soon as he got the hang of it, he groaned and picked you up, a surprised sound escaping your mouth. He steered you both to the bed where he sat with you in his lap, one hand resting on the dip of your waist while the other tangled in your hair.
“You need to tell me when to stop,” his eyes were laden with the desire that you had only ever read about in books. “I’m going to kiss you until you stop me. God help me, love, ” he sighed, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. “I can’t stop.”
Almost immediately, you were kissing again, this time deep and passionate. Your heart and your head all belonged to Yunho, your body responding to his touch and moving accordingly. You cupped his face, tangled your fingers through the soft strands of his hair and ran your hands across the smooth panels of his chest, all the while his lips refused to leave yours. He nipped at your lips, teased them with his tongue and explored the cavity of your mouth, swallowing all your moans. When you finally drew back for breath, he seemed to come back to his senses, his eyes widening slightly.
“I…” he began, still refusing to let you go. “We should not have done that, but good heavens.”
You laughed, caressing his face affectionately. “I’m sorry for demanding something so unreasonable.”
“No, I’ve wanted to do this since forever, but… I really thought we were going to wait until marriage,” he stifled a grin.
“I thought so too, but apparently, I’m desperate,” you pouted. “I came begging for a kiss. It should have been the other way round.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Yunho pecked your lips. “As long as we both get what we want.”
You nodded, smoothening his hair away from his face. “I’m still sorry, though. I… I just wanted to– I,”
“You don’t have to explain your reasons,” Yunho held your hands in his. “But we should definitely stop here.”
“I agree,” you said. “But do you think other people sneak in kisses or something more before their weddings too?”
Yunho laughed heartily and your heart warmed. This really was the man that you loved and wished to spend the rest of your life with. “I suppose they do. Should we ask your father?”
“Shut up,” you scowled, pulling away from his lap. You stood on your feet but he didn’t let go of your hands. “A goodnight kiss?”
“Stop testing my limits, Princess,” Yunho warned but pulled you in for one last kiss, forehead joined and noses brushing. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” you confessed. “More than you can imagine.”
Yunho smiled. “How did your meeting with Hongjoong go?”
You did your best to keep your smile from falling. “He understands. He is probably scheming somewhere right now.”
“That’s good,” Yunho watched you. “Don’t let him learn that we broke the tradition. He’ll be insufferable about it.”
“Of course,” you shook your head. “We are the most chaste people in the entire kingdom. Let’s not forget that.”
Yunho smirked darkly, getting up and fixing your hair. You went back to your room, convincing yourself that what had happened with Hongjoong was just your anger and exhaustion, like he had said.
You could definitely try to forget it and move on. For Yunho, you could do that. You owed him that much.
You didn’t think the debates would be so serious until you found Wooyoung, Sieun and Hongjoong in a heated argument, with Jongho snacking on peanuts and letting the chaos unfold before him, and Jeongin over the clouds because everyone was addressing him as ‘Your Honour’.
You folded your arms and scoffed at your little brother. He was gloating. Apparently, being called Your Highness wasn’t enough for him. He liked the other title more.
“Your Honour,” Wooyoung called and Jeongin straightened, his eyes curved in a foxy grin. “The Kingdom of Hala has a known reputation of violating treaties. Year 1941 when the kingdom broke a treaty with Eden over baseless speculations, and year 1962 when the kingdom almost broke the treaty again but then the matter was sorted by amending the treaty. But…”
Wooyoung looked towards Sieun with a smirk growing on his face. As Hala’s princess, Sieun was fuming but also awaiting how Wooyoung would defend his representative kingdom.
“It’s understandable if the neighbouring kingdoms see the Kingdom of Hala as a nation governed by people who cannot keep their word, but in this specific instance of whether Hala has violated international land laws, I confirm that Hala has not. Just because we don’t respect our treaties does not mean we don’t respect international law.”
Sieun settled down in defeat, though she was still slightly confused if her own kingdom had been represented correctly. She lightly shrugged and Wooyoung took it as a sign of approval.
“Very well,” Jeongin cleared his throat. “The Kingdom of Neverland may now argue whether creating alliances when there is a clear sign of conflict between any two kingdoms is disrespecting the international law, especially when some of the war routes fall in the territory of geographical points protected by the international law.”
“Remember,” Jongho reminded everyone, “To stay respectful during the arguments since this is a made-up debate.”
Hongjoong nodded and stood up, meeting eyes with you and Yunho. You both passed subtle nods. The plan was to bait the people present into admitting whether they were aware of the current navy conflict between Neverland and Wonderland.
“I would begin by providing the past instances of similar events where Neverland either decided not to participate in conflicts because of the fear of violating international laws and being held accountable. Years 1864, 1875 and 1925 when Neverland abstained from any such conflicts,” Hongjoong scanned his notes and then looked at Jeongin. “Year 1951 when a conflict with The Kingdom of Hala had us sailing our ships and almost violating the international navy law.”
“I wonder why you weren’t held accountable,” Wooyoung pointed out.
“Maybe because Hala was hell-bent on escalating the war?” Hongjoong answered smoothly. “Neverland had a duty to protect its people. If we just stood by, we would watch Hala violate the international navy law and sail to us with the sole purpose to fight–”
“Hala would never do that!” Sieun stood up, slamming her hands on the desk. “Neverland has been breaking navy laws even in the present time and no one holds them accountable!”
While Jongho rebuked Sieun for breaking character and Minjeong deducted her score, you and Yunho straightened.
“Let’s relax,” Yunho whispered after a moment. “Hongjoong will figure it out. Let’s pretend we don’t know what just happened.”
You nodded. Hongjoong was trying hard to contain his smirk.
“The Kingdom of Hala,” Hongjoong raised his brow at Sieun but then shifted his eyes to Wooyoung who was supposed to answer in Sieun’s stead, “is known for violating treaties, like you said, Wooyoung. What’s to say that it wouldn’t violate the navy law? After all, the navy law is trickier, isn’t it?”
“That’s not the topic of today’s debate,” Wooyoung said before Jongho could.
“Your Honour,” Hongjoong looked at Jeongin. “I would still like further explanation from Hala’s representatives about their baseless accusation of Neverland violating navy laws in the present time, if you would allow.”
Jeongin discussed it with Jongho. You were sure that Jeongin would decide against it– that was a real time conflict and this was supposed to be a recreational activity, not a debate on current events.
That is exactly what Jongho and Jeongin decided. The topic steered back to the original made-up conflict and the tension in the room slowly dissipated. The debate ended on a good note with Yunho emerging as the winner with leading points.
Hongjoong found you both when you were on the way to the hall for refreshments. “I guess the young princess is not as politically unaware as she pretends to be.”
“Right?” Your eyes subconsciously darted towards Sieun. She appeared very relaxed, sitting in a corner with Minjeong and probably discussing the debate. “If she is aware about Neverland and Wonderland’s conflict, she’s doing a damned good job at pretending otherwise.”
“Which makes me wonder if the other kingdoms are aware as well,” Yunho added. “I gauged everyone’s reactions earlier and I’m sure Jongho knows something.”
“What should we do?” You turned towards the princes. “Interrogate Sieun or feel out Jongho?”
“What do you mean interrogate?” Hongjoong let out a short laugh. “You’re gonna tie her up and play prosecution?”
You glared at Hongjoong while Yunho stifled his smile. “I think it’s wiser to ask Jongho. He’s a close friend and if he knows something, he’ll be honest.”
You let out a huff but obeyed. Yunho smiled in response and got you both drinks. When he noticed Jongho hanging out alone in a corner, he said that he would be right back.
Leaving you and Hongjoong alone at your table.
You silently ate your croissant while you watched Yunho. You caught Hongjoong staring moments later.
“Good job today at the debate,” you acknowledged. “You handled it very well.”
“It was nothing,” Hongjoong dismissed. “You did well too. Second place is basically the first when Yunho is the permanent first place.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Yunho really doesn’t know how to lose.”
“He has always been a winner,” Hongjoong said with a deep sigh. Something in his voice told you that his words held a deeper meaning. The ache in your heart told you that you knew exactly what he meant, but you ignored it.
You were just friends now. Nothing more.
Yunho joined you with news that he had fixed a meeting with Jongho to discuss the Neverland conflict with Wonderland, you all cheered silently. When Yunho offered to take you to your room, Hongjoong excused himself smoothly and disappeared from the hall.
Just like he always did. You watched him until he was out of your sight before you said yes to Yunho, catching him looking at you with a strange expression– one that you hadn’t seen in his eyes before. “What?”
“Nothing,” Yunho smiled knowingly. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Of course I am,” you felt your cheeks flush. “What’s there to not feel alright about?”
“Just making sure,” Yunho took your hand and started to walk.
“Is something funny, Yunho?”
“Not at all,” he assured. “Just thinking about last night.”
“Jeong Yunho!” You scolded, looking around you. Of course, there was no one in the empty corridors and no guards nearby. Yunho wasn’t foolish enough to say something suspicious like this in the open.
However, he was a fool in love, and fools in love did things like steal an innocent peck before taking the turn towards your chambers where the security started to tighten. You smacked his chest repeatedly until he couldn’t breathe from laughing so much and warned him not to do that again, even though your own cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.
“Can I come inside?” Yunho asked when you reached the door. “I wanted to discuss a few things about… our lives.”
“Sure,” you welcomed him inside and you took a seat near the fireplace. Your maids sat at the far end of the room, watching but unable to hear your conversation, giving you a certain level of privacy to talk freely.
“I’ve been thinking about our… future,” Yunho looked at you with expectant eyes and you met his gaze when he seated himself across from you. With the fire illuminating one half of his face while casting shadows on the other, he looked every bit the man and the prince that he had become.
Your future husband.
“I have been thinking,” Yunho inhaled deeply. “And… I know that we planned to talk about marriage to your parents on this visit, but I think that we should delay it.”
Your heart sank. “Why? Is everything alright?”
“Of course,” he assured. “I would like to ask for your hand officially after I secure a title as the second prince or the crown prince. That gives us all enough time to… sort out whatever needs sorting.”
“If you’re doing this because you are unsure of whether my parents would approve, Yunho,” you looked at him fondly. “They adore you. They love you and you’re everything they could have ever wished for, for me. They understand your circumstances– I mean, they are aware that we’re interested in each other, but they would accept you no matter your future title.”
“I know, love,” Yunho smiled. “It’s not that.”
Your smile fell. “Are you… sure about us? Do you need time to think about things–”
“Y/n,” Yunho looked like he wanted to hold you but his eyes darted towards the maid. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life but you. You are the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with, and… now that we’re talking about it, I want you to reconsider everything before you agree to my proposal. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Of course I do,” you said without a doubt in your voice or your heart. “Do you think that I played with fire because I wasn’t sure?”
“Not at all,” Yunho confirmed. He was sure that you didn’t ask him to kiss you just to make sure that he really was the one. Your friendship and your love wasn’t that shallow. “Just needed to make sure. If you ever… if there is ever someone else in your life, someone else in your heart… I want you to know that you can still trust me and confide in me.”
“What does that mean?” You straightened, heart pounding right between your ears this time.
“It means,” Yunho said lightheartedly, grinning. “That I’m your best friend first. If there is ever someone else that you would like to marry, I’ll understand. I only wish the best for you and I wouldn’t want you to bind yourself to me out of compulsion.”
“Does that mean that you would not fight for me?” You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms. “Didn’t peg you as the loser sort.”
“Of course I would fight for you,” Yunho shook his head. “But I wouldn’t hurt you, ever. I would rather watch you happy with someone else than unhappy with me.”
“Yunho,” you whispered, fighting back tears. “That’s… very honourable of you to offer, but you are unfortunately still the person that I wish to marry. And… I would like to offer you the same. That’s the least I can do, but don’t expect me to be as understanding as you.”
Yunho nodded and you wished that your eyes conveyed what your heart felt in that moment– that you loved him infinitely, even though you couldn’t say it out loud right now.
The next few days were a breeze.
You found out that Jongho was aware of Wonderland’s conflict with Neverland and was willing to offer help in any way that he could– the Kingdom of Kiji and its two Choi princes would always side with Wonderland. That left preparing strategies for departure of the guests to their homelands and tightening security.
However, you noticed how Sieun appeared distant and disconnected from the rest of your group. You all had been spending a lot of time together playing games, studying, strategising and whatnot. Even Hongjoong was back to normal with his near-constant teasing and jabs that gave Wooyoung a run for his game.
You wondered if you were only noticing Sieun’s unusual behaviour now that she gave herself away during that debate, or if something fishy was going on.
Which was why when you saw her alone in the corridors near the guest chambers, you secretly started to follow her. You hid behind a wall when she stopped and started to converse with an unknown person.
You tried to strain your hearing. If you could get just a whisper of their conversation–
“Love… what do you think you’re doing?”
Your bones nearly jumped out of your skin. You glared at the perpetrator– Hongjoong– and motioned for him to seal his mouth.
Hongjoong was not amused. He found you hiding your figure behind a wall on his way to his room and decided to inspect. Hongjoong pressed your head down to make you tuck your knees further and allow him some space to crane his head over your crouched figure so that he could take a peek himself.
“Sieun… and?” Hongjoong asked in the lightest whisper. “Who is she exchanging the letter with?”
“I don’t know,” you answered. “Does he look familiar?”
“Do you think it’s a romantic scandal or a political one?” Hongjoong asked, not recognising the figure. Maybe one of the prince or princess’ guards?
“Everything feels political to me these days,” you answered, straightening when the two disappeared. “I’m not very interested in Sieun’s romantic escapades.”
“I thought you were a strict person when it came to traditions,” Hongjoong straightened the fabric at the waist of your gown.
“Do you think I would be the kind to turn someone in just because I disagree with their take on ‘manmade’ traditions?” You asked with a scoff, reminding Hongjoong of his own words. Manmade traditions.
“I suppose not,” Hongjoong shrugged, looking you in the eyes. “Considering… everything.”
“I’ll pretend I don’t know what that means,” you muttered. “I’m going to follow Sieun. Shall we split? You go follow the man.”
“It could be dangerous,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Sieun is probably going to her room. Let’s follow the man. I don’t want to leave you behind.”
You agreed– splitting was probably a bad idea, especially if this took a wrong turn. While you both walked a good distance behind the figure, sticking close to the walls, Hongjoong asked what you were doing in this part of the castle. This was near the guest chambers and the library and he had just been in the library taking a nap.
“I was going to see Yunho,” you admitted.
“Unchaperoned?” Hongjoong was almost teasing. “Where are your guards or handmaids?”
“I asked them to stay back.”
“Are they always this obedient? I should speak to your mother about enforcing security measures–”
You grabbed Hongjoong by the arm and pulled him instinctively in a wedge between the walls when the figure turned, probably alarmed by the noise. Hongjoong was tense, eyes wide and figure unmoving.
“We’re dead if we get found out now,” Hongjoong reminded you of every way that this could go wrong– the figure could be someone dangerous. If it was someone you both knew…
You were suddenly very aware of the lack of distance between you two. It was almost as if you were about to hug. You could see the twinkle in his eyes despite the low candle lights casting a shadow over his face. Your hand still gripped his arm out of fear and he held yours out of protection.
You could hear the footsteps getting closer. The wedge was small and Hongjoong almost lost his footing and tripped but you held him steady and allowed him to brace himself against the wall that you rested your back to. You were enveloped in his scent– deep, earthy and manly. It felt like home.
Home. The same jab in your heart at the thought because Yunho’s scent of freshness and ocean felt the same to you.
You could not do this. You could not spend another minute so close to Hongjoong and not lose your entire sense of self and crumble to the ground in ashes–
Hongjoong probably noticed your breathing getting quicker. He tucked your head in his chest and you clutched at his side. He must think that you were doing this out of fear, but fear was the last thing on your mind right now. It was… the lack of it that was making you tremble right now. That despite being moments away from being discovered and possibly held responsible for ‘breaking the traditions and engaging in improper behaviour’, you did not care.
All that mattered was Hongjoong and his fingers tangling in your hair, his protective embrace, his breath caressing your temple, him and only him–
“Hey!” An unfamiliar distant voice sounded. “Report to the station! Time to change shifts!”
The footsteps stopped. The man said something in response and then the footsteps started to fade away until they were no longer, and the only sound around you was the one of two beating hearts.
Hongjoong did not dare move. He did not move a muscle. He didn’t dare breathe in relief. He was slowly realising why you were holding on to him like this.
At some point, your breaths synchronised. Your chests rose and fell in rhythm. It was intimate like nothing else– the feeling of being one. One time, you had hugged Yunho long enough to experience that too. That time, you felt as giddy as a child.
This time… it was different.
It was always different with Hongjoong.
You soaked up every bit of his warmth and then mustered every bit of your courage to let him go. You could not face him now– not after making all those promises about being friends and nothing more, not after he had dismissed your feelings as anger and exhaustion. You let him go and in a flash, you started to walk away.
Except this time, Hongjoong was following.
“Princess,” he called, pain lacing his voice. “Please, look at me–”
“Leave me alone,” you declared, taking a sharp turn to the right to the abandoned part of the castle. You needed to be alone with your thoughts right now, away from all prying eyes.
“Just… wait–” Hongjoong grabbed your hand right when you were about to turn and you let out a shriek, a stinging sensation growing in your arm–
“Oh, saints,” Hongjoong cried out when you finally stopped. He looked at the wall. There was a nail sticking out and him pulling you so rashly resulted in a long gash across your wrist.
You hissed in pain when you drew the fabric of your sleeve away, revealing the damage. It didn’t look deep, but it was still painful and bleeding. Hongjoong drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and started to tie it around your wrist.
With trembling hands.
“I– I’m so sorry,” he whispered, dabbing at your arm with the edge of his sleeve to wipe the blood around your wound. With both shaking hands, he cradled your wrist with worry in his eyes. “Princess… your wrist– this could leave a scar–”
“Hongjoong,” you shook your head. “It’s okay. It will heal. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It is,” he almost looked offended to hear that. “You shouldn’t have so many scars on your body. You are the princess and the future queen–”
“I’m just a human, like you,” you corrected. “We bleed all the same.”
Hongjoong wasn’t having any of it. He was almost shaking. He looked at you and you thought that there were tears in his eyes.
“You always get hurt because of me,” his voice was also trembling now. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Hongjoong,” you sighed, pulling him towards the nearest room. All the rooms in this part of the castle were empty and if you were lucky, unsupervised, at least for a few minutes since the shift change was happening. You scanned the room– it appeared to be a study room with chairs scattered everywhere.
Now that you had better light, Hongjoong finished tying the handkerchief around your wrist properly, his hands shaking awfully.
“When you got that scar on your back… that was my fault too,” Hongjoong admitted in a small voice. “I was the one who challenged you to hunt at new grounds, even though I knew the storm was coming.”
“You were also the one who found me,” you reminded him. “I might have died of the cold otherwise,” you said with a laugh.
“Don’t say that,” Hongjoong’s gaze was fierce but his eyes…
Oh, he looked heartbroken.
“That was not your fault,” you said softly, your hand shaking slightly now, more from the heartache than the pain. Hongjoong inspected your hand closely. “This isn’t either–”
With his still shaking hands, he brought your hand to his lips and started to kiss your fingers one by one, muttering apologies. You could do nothing but watch. He gently seated you on a chair nearby and sank to the ground, kissing your palm and resting his head on your knees.
This was the strongest man you knew, reduced to this. On his knees, apologising for the things he had no control over and kissing your hands as if that could make things better, as if that could patch you right up.
“Joong,” you called, overwhelmed. “Joong, look at me.”
He did and your resolve crumbled. You cupped his face with your free hand and lowered yourself to meet his lips, a sigh of relief escaping the both of you as soon as your lips brushed.
Hongjoong remained unmoving. He let you kiss his lips for a few moments before he almost whimpered and answered with everything in him. He craned his neck up and met your lips and your tongue in a frenzy as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening.
You couldn’t either. This couldn’t be real– the butterflies in your stomach, the heat coursing throughout your body begging you to never let him go. You pulled him up, tired, and spread your legs so he could wedge his left knee between them to balance himself. Now that he was towering over you, you saw the darkness in his eyes before he devoured your lips.
This was nothing like the kiss with Yunho. That had been experimental, restrained yet loving, but this?
This was pure, raw desire. The need to be with one another, the need to be one, to mold yourself with the other. Hongjoong’s hands shifted from your neck to your shoulders, pushing the sleeves away and swiftly unbuttoning the top few buttons so that he could run his hands along the expanse of your collarbones. He explored the cavity of your mouth and you sank lower, giving yourself entirely to him and gasping when his knee made contact with your core.
Hongjoong didn’t stop. He let you catch your breath while he kissed and licked at your skin, pecked along your collarbone and then crouched to inspect the scar on your back that was now visible.
He traced it with his fingertips and you bent slightly to give him a better view. To your surprise, he kissed it tenderly. Before you could respond, he was back and kissing your earlobe, tracing his lips along your jaw and you gladly met his lips again, slow and meaningful, your hands clutching at his collar.
This time when he drew away, he found your eyes wet with tears and his own blurry. Oh, you both had made a big, big mistake. Hongjoong bent down and kissed both your eyelids and tasted your tears on his lips. He wiped your cheeks and looked at you, utterly broken.
“You own my mind and my soul,” Hongjoong confessed, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. “How will I ever recover from this?”
“How will I?” You asked, almost pleading.
“You have Yunho,” he reminded you.
“But…” you cradled his jaw, drinking in his features. “He’s not you. He’s different.”
“He’s meant for you,” Hongjoong gently reminded you. “As you are meant for him.”
“If we’re not meant for each other, then why does it feel like parting from you would kill me?” You asked, tilting your head, your noses brushing. “Don’t you feel the same?”
Your lips brushed. None of you pulled away yet none of you dared to take another step.
“Maybe in another life,” Hongjoong mused with a sad smile. “Maybe in another world, we are together. In this one, I’m just grateful that I got to taste your lips and feel your love, Princess. I cannot be selfish. You’re not mine to keep.”
He drew back with immense struggle and you held his wrist. He didn’t pull away. He helped you stand up and after deliberation, decided to hug you one last time.
“I think we need some distance and some time… away. From each other,” Hongjoong said, his hands tangling in your hair and his body molding into yours.
You knew that his words made sense, but you couldn’t help the sobs that wracked throughout your body. “Hush, now. I…”
His voice trembled and he cleared his throat, drawing away and wiping your tears again. This time, he affectionately kissed your forehead. “Let’s go get your hand treated, love. There are already enough scars on your body.”
“Just the one,” you laughed through tears. “And now a big, big one–”
“I’m sorry–”
“On my heart,” you corrected and he sighed. “How are we going to treat that?”
Hongjoong smiled sadly. He didn’t have an answer. As soon as you were ready to step out, he held your unhurt hand and led you out.
The two of you walked in silence towards the medical wing but on your way, it was Yunho who encountered you, confused for a moment before he spotted your bleeding wrist.
“Good heavens, are you alright?” Yunho asked and inspected your hand. You and Hongjoong shared a look before Hongjoong straightened.
“Caught her sneaking around in dark corridors. Unguarded,” he sent his trademark glare in your direction. You were surprised that he could act right now. You were tired enough to not respond at all. “I was taking her to the medical wing. Can you take over?”
Yunho observed Hongjoong for a moment too long. He didn't miss the wetness in his eyes. Hongjoong was a great actor but some emotions, even he could not hide.
Yunho nodded sombrely and Hongjoong said something about being late for a meeting with Wooyoung. Yunho took your hand and led you silently to the medical wing.
The nurse treated your hand, letting you know that the wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. She gave you a pill for pain after finding you holding back tears and when she went, Yunho smiled and pressed the pout on your lips with his thumb.
“Does it hurt that much?” He asked. “I thought you were a strong girl, Princess.”
“I was,” you cried. “But… it hurts so, so much.”
Yunho brought you in for a hug and let you cry your heart out. You were unable to control the tears and you were too tired to think of an explanation to give to Yunho right now. You simply sobbed until you got tired and shut your eyes.
Yunho caressed your hair and let you be, occupied with his own thoughts.
He was sure now– there was something between you and Hongjoong. He had hardly ever seen Hongjoong with tear-stained eyes, and both occasions had to do something with you. The last time he saw Hongjoong like that was when he found you in the storm after you got lost hunting. At that time, he figured that Hongjoong had been overwhelmed with the idea of something happening to you, which was understandable– Yunho himself had felt the same.
But this time… it was undeniable. He was aware that your tears tonight were not because of the wound on your hand but the one in your heart.
You looked up at Yunho after resting a bit and found him watching you with a faint smile. He asked if you felt better and you thanked him for tolerating the mess that you had become. He only smiled and accompanied you to your chamber, making sure your maids gave you something warm to drink before leaving with an affectionate kiss to your forehead.
You settled down in your bed and played every moment you had spent with Yunho just now. Even after everything with Hongjoong, you still viewed Yunho just the same– your love, a piece of your heart. Your soulmate, you used to call him. You stood by it now too. Your feelings for the young prince had not changed one bit.
But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, kissing Hongjoong only made you more sure that your heart was equally divided for both the princes. Choosing one over the other would break something in you that would never heal. You could not live the rest of your life with Yunho while watching Hongjoong from the sidelines, or spend the rest of your life with Hongjoong after breaking Yunho’s heart. It would be the cruelest punishment to one or the other.
If you could not have them both… you would prefer to have none of them. That would be your punishment for being so selfish and letting your heart yearn for both the sun and the moon when there should only be a place for one.
Hongjoong had decided to leave early for his home, claiming that there were some ‘urgent matters’ that he needed to address.
However, Yunho was aware that there were no such matters. As Hongjoong checked to see if he had all of his belongings, Yunho stood by his door with folded arms, watching.
“Are you really going to give me the silent treatment?” Yunho asked. Hongjoong had been avoiding eye contact since Yunho found him accompanying you to the hospital wing two days ago. “Both of you?”
“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asked, still not looking at the younger prince.
“Our princess is pretending to be too busy with ‘work’,” Yunho scoffed. “Care to share what transpired between the two of you that night?”
Hongjoong finally looked at Yunho. “Nothing happened. She was spying at Sieun and I saved her from what could have been a dangerous incident, and she got hurt in the process.”
“Is that why she cried in my arms the whole night?” Yunho looked hurt now, and it broke Hongjoong’s heart. “Come on. Talk to me, Joong. You know that you are my best friend and I trust you.”
Trust. Hongjoong wanted to laugh. He had played with Yunho’s trust. He had compromised your chastity. How would Yunho react if he learned that Hongjoong had touched you in places that he hadn’t either?
“Thank you for trusting me,” Hongjoong’s voice was thick with tension. “There is no explanation that I can offer you right now. Ask the princess about her emotions– I’m not answerable for what she feels.”
“But you are answerable for your own feelings,” Yunho stressed. “So tell me what you feel about y/n.”
Hongjoong stopped in his tracks. He was glad that his back was facing Yunho right now. Composing himself, he turned around. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
Yunho was smiling knowingly now. “You can pretend that you are not in love with her, but I am no stranger to that look in your eyes when you see her. You, my friend, are bewitched by her. Your eyes… they always search for her. The way you look at her makes me wonder if I love her as much as you do.”
Hongjoong appeared stricken. “That is not true.”
“I would believe you,” Yunho sighed deeply, his expressions turning to stone, “if y/n did not look at you the same way.”
For a few moments, the princes watched each other. For Hongjoong, he was recalling every moment that he had spent with Yunho– never had they disagreed on something. They hardly ever argued and even though they did not always see eye to eye, they wished the best for each other. They loved and respected the other more than their own self.
For Yunho… he was trying to gauge Hongjoong’s reactions. Hongjoong was good at hiding his emotions, but he could not hide his feelings. Yunho was confused about many things, and he thought that he could certainly begin by confirming Hongjoong’s feelings for you.
“She does not look at me like you think she does,” Hongjoong shook his head. “She loves you. She wants to marry you. I’m nothing to her–”
“That’s a lie,” Yunho said calmly. “Just… just tell me what you feel about her, Hongjoong. I need to hear it from your mouth– I promise that it wouldn’t affect my relationship with the princess. I know that she loves me very much and wishes to marry me, but I am not a fool and I also know that she has some feelings for you too. I would never hurt her, so just… tell me. Please.”
“And what good would learning about my feelings do any of us?” Hongjoong scoffed. “Except break your heart and break my resolve?”
Yunho took a deep breath. He took a step towards Hongjoong but the elder prince retracted. Yunho paused, unsure how to convince him.
“If I tell you that I love her… with all of my heart and my soul,” Hongjoong began, voice guarded. “If I tell you that every moment I spend away from her, knowing that she will never be mine, kills me… if I tell you that now that I–”
Yunho urged Hongjoong to carry on. Perhaps, it was the accepting eyes or the fact that Yunho was Yunho, Hongjoong’s other half, that made Hongjoong surrender and give the truth away.
“If I tell you that now that I have had a taste of her lips and her skin… would that be enough for you to give her up?”
Yunho’s eyes flashed for a second. His jaw clenched and unclenched but he quickly guarded himself.
You, the princess, were not an object. You were not Yunho’s, or Hongjoong’s. Yunho had no right to get angry at what you both did when he himself had done the same. He had no right to reprimand Hongjoong, except for the fact that he did it knowing that you and Yunho intended to marry, but… could he blame him?
“I would not give her up,” Yunho announced. “Because if I did, that would mean that I never loved her enough in the first place.”
Hongjoong smiled. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear. You’re a lucky man, Yunho. The princess… she’ll forget about me one day. I will try not to interfere between you two anymore and stay in the background after you get married. The less she sees me, the better it is.”
With that, Hongjoong picked his bag. He stood in front of Yunho and met his eyes, a fallen soldier. “Take care of her, Yunho. And… I’m sorry for my actions. I really am.”
Hongjoong patted Yunho’s arm and was about to leave the room when Yunho finally found the right words.
“So I guess you do not love her enough to fight for her.”
Hongjoong froze in his tracks. He turned, expecting to see Yunho angry but he had a deadly calm look on his face and it irked him very much. “What did you say?”
“That is your philosophy, right?” Yunho challenged. “If you give up, that means that you never loved her enough in the first place. So I take it that you never really loved y/n that much, huh? Did you get inside her head just to mess with her?”
Hongjoong was a raging animal– he dropped his bag and was at Yunho’s throat in a second.
“Do not make light of my feelings,” Hongjoong growled, fisting Yunho’s collar. “I’m giving up out of respect for you, for our bond, because I do not wish to break your heart and take your love away from you.”
“Does that make you a bigger person?” Yunho questioned and Hongjoong let him go, catching his breath.
“What… what exactly do you want to hear, Yunho?” Hongjoong asked, confused. “Are you looking for a fight?”
“I’m looking for a solution,” Yunho cried out, taking a deep breath. “You think I care about manmade traditions of chastity anymore? You think that confessing that you kissed the princess would make us fight? Did you think that you could go home bloody and battered and it would solve everything?”
Yunho sighed deeply, taking a seat and calming himself. Hongjoong waited for him to continue and when he finally looked at him, Hongjoong braced himself.
“For all these talks about us respecting the traditions,” Yunho said with a light laugh. “We broke it too, Joong. We kissed too. You’re not special.”
“Ouch,” Hongjoong retorted, sitting at the edge of the bed near Yunho. “Didn’t peg you as the rebellious type, Yunho.”
“I didn’t either,” Yunho smiled. “Just tell me that you love her as much as I do.”
“I do,” Hongjoong confessed. “Just as much, if not more.”
“Then we can leave the decision to the princess,” Yunho mused.
“She will choose you. She has to,” Hongjoong looked pained. “You’re the future king. I will not snatch that away from her just because of my selfishness.”
“I don’t have to be the future king–”
“You will take no such steps,” this time, Hongjoong took the reins. “I am going back to solve the matter of our hierarchy once and for all. As soon as you earn the title of the Crown Prince, I will send a proposal to y/n’s parents on your behalf. You will get married to her and live happily ever after.”
“Then what about you?” Yunho looked equally as hurt. “You love her. You always have.”
“And I will continue to do so, silently,” Hongjoong confirmed. “But I will not be selfish. That’s not me. As long as you two are happy, that would mean the world to me.”
“But–”
“Stop looking for solutions when they don’t exist,” Hongjoong got up. “You and y/n will get married. That’s final.”
Hongjoong didn’t wait to hear what Yunho had to offer. He left the room, feeling considerably content. Now that he did not have to hide anything from Yunho, he felt as light as a feather. He hadn’t realised how much betraying Yunho and hiding his feelings from him had weighed him down.
But in his carriage, on his way to exit the Kingdom of Wonderland, he kept thinking about what Yunho had said. How Yunho had acted. He had to be imagining things, but why was Yunho not mad at him for what he had done? Why was he still worried about Hongjoong and how he would cope with the heartbreak?
Yunho could have beaten him to a pulp just for touching you. Yunho was far stronger. Hongjoong would have let him– he had no right to fight back. Instead, Yunho was looking for a solution. Did Yunho think that all three of you could have a happily ever after? That was not possible.
Hongjoong decided that he had to move on– for you, and more importantly, for Yunho. He would have you both marry each other– it would genuinely make him the happiest. If you were marrying someone else, he would have fought for you valiantly, but because this was Yunho, he would lay down his arms with a smile, for it didn’t hurt very much to imagine you and him together. It only hurt because he could no longer be with you.
Hongjoong was about to shut his eyes and take a nap when his carriage came to a halt abruptly and he heard the sound of his guards yell and load their guns and unsheathe their swords. His heart sank in his feet but he quickly bent to retract his own gun from under his seat, awaiting his bodyguard’s orders.
“An ambush?” Hongjoong asked in a low voice. “We dispatched a decoy too, didn’t we?”
“There must be someone on the inside who betrayed us,” the guard said. How ironic. “Your Highness, please wait inside while I inspect the matter–”
Except his bodyguard got shot right in the head, the bullet barely escaping Hongjoong. Hongjoong was surprised for a few moments but he quickly gathered himself, saying a silent prayer and straightening his shoulders.
Then he exited the carriage with a deadly look in his eyes.
“If you soldiers value your lives, we will talk and negotiate,” Hongjoong announced. “Otherwise, I cannot promise that we will make it out alive.”
You and Yunho were in the dining hall, chatting after everyone had left, when Jeongin came running, out of breath, with news that Hongjoong’s carriage– not the decoy, but the actual carriage– was found empty and bloodstained, all the soldiers and guards accompanying him dead with more bodies of the enemy found but no signs of the prince.
For a moment, your vision blackened and you couldn’t hear anything. You could tell that someone was calling your name and someone was shaking you and tapping your cheek but you could only think of one thing–
Hongjoong. How he had left– without saying goodbye. How the last things he had said to you were about his love for you and his regret for leaving you.
“I– I’m okay,” you managed after a few moments, Yunho and Jeongin crowding over you with concern in their eyes. You took a few sips of water, reminding yourself that this was not about you and that you had to think.
You took Yunho’s hand and squeezed it, letting him be vulnerable for a few moments too. You looked at Jeongin. “Who else knows?”
“Father and mother, and their advisors,” Jeongin said. “The three of us.”
“Good,” you pursed your lips. “How are we proceeding?”
“A search party is being arranged and sent right away. I think we have to wait and look for a trail– if there is not a body, that means he must be alive and either taken hostage or on the run. Father said that we will wait until we have a lead.”
“Can we trust our soldiers?” You asked out loud. Yunho was probably thinking the same considering how he nodded. “The decoy is safe while the actual carriage was attacked. Someone inside the castle has betrayed us, I… I’m so sorry, Yunho.”
“It’s not your fault,” he insisted. “Can I suggest something?”
“Of course,” you and Jeongin said simultaneously.
“I would like to personally go and search for Hongjoong,” Yunho said and you and Jeongin looked at each other, conflicted. You were both aware that even though it was very dangerous for Yunho to step out, especially from a political point of view, Yunho would not stop on anyone’s orders. “The enemy is probably the rebel groups from Neverland who might use Hongjoong as a means to negotiate. There isn’t anyone else who would do this, right?”
“Not in our knowledge,” Jeongin said and you confirmed. “Anyone that might have ill feelings for your kingdom or Hongjoong personally?”
“Not that I know of,” Yunho thought about it, the tension apparent on his face. “I have a suggestion that we make this public. If this really is Neverland’s doing, the public backlash– especially because the other royals need to go home soon– will pressurise the enemy to reveal themselves. I think this is our best bet right now.”
“And once they learn that most of the kingdoms are siding with yours in search of Hongjoong,” you continued. “If we play this right…”
Yunho nodded. “While I search for Hongjoong, will you look into who the insider could be?”
“Let me come with you. I can fight–”
“Princess,” Yunho said softly, clasping your hands. “No.”
You looked at Yunho helplessly. He did not need to explain himself. His tone was final. He simply was not going to risk your life while searching for Hongjoong.
“I will go in your stead–”
“You’re too young, Jeongin,” Yunho smiled gently at him. “Instead, I have another task for you. I need you to look into the insider with y/n and prepare to confront anyone who dares to become an obstacle. Use your authority as the crown prince if your sister’s message does not get across. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Jeongin nodded, sure.
“And in case… In case things go wrong…”
“Yunho,” you called but he shook his head, taking a moment to brace himself.
“Take care in case things go wrong.”
You were both about to respond but Wooyoung, San and Jongho came rushing inside, looking stricken with worry.
“We just heard,” Wooyoung started, out of breath. “Let us know how we can help.”
~
It was going to do you no good to simply sit and wait to hear back from the princes. Each one of them had split up with their own search teams despite your father warning them about how this could go very, very wrong. Each of them had also sent a letter to their home– that in case they got hurt, it would be their own fault and no one else’s, for they could not leave a friend behind.
You supposed the princes were very tightly knit. Meeting each other annually and living together for weeks, or sometimes even months did that. They were all out there risking their lives for Hongjoong, and you were not going to be idle. You decided to confront Sieun.
“It’s just a crazy coincidence to me,” you said in a deadly calm voice while Sieun sat by the fire in her room, growing paler by each second. “Hongjoong and I witness you exchanging a letter with some stranger after you admit that you know about Neverland’s conflict with us. We follow the stranger and almost get caught. Next thing we know, Hongjoong is on his way home and gets attacked.”
“I– I would never do something like that,” Sieun said weakly. “I respect Prince Hongjoong very much. He’s like a big brother to me, just like you are a big sister to me.”
“That’s why I am here asking you, Sieun,” you pleaded, this time softly. “This doesn’t have to end badly with secrets and lies. I promise that I will keep your privacy and not hurt you in any way. I… I thought it could be a letter between lovers–”
“No, I– the traditions–”
“Just hear me out,” you sat closer to her this time and took her hands. “If I suspected something like that, I would have let it go. It’s not my place to hold you accountable, though as a big sister, I could maybe offer you advice to be careful. But I suspected that this was political, which is why I invaded your privacy and followed that stranger. Hongjoong just happened to be there– he was not involved.. So can you help me? Help us?”
Sieun sniffed and wiped her tears. She thought about it for a few moments and straightened. “How can I do that?”
“You can start by letting me know if that man is involved with Neverland in any way,” you said. “If he is not, our discussion ends right here. I will pretend that we never had this chat.”
Sieun sighed deeply. She was younger than you yet right now, she looked much older– as if she had seen or heard too much. Her eyes appeared sunken and her hair unkempt.
“That man is just one of the guards here,” Sieun finally admitted. “He is friends with a man in the Neverland embassy who sends letters to Neverland on my behalf.”
So Sieun was involved, and there was an insider. This was getting complicated. “Can I ask what business you have with Neverland? If it involves Wonderland or Eden in any way? And… can I ask who the recipient of the letter is?”
“Wonderland and Eden are not involved, but I can see in hindsight now that I may have made some errors and talked too much,” Sieun was fidgeting anxiously now. “The recipient is Prince Jiwoong. We… we grew close during his last visit to my kingdom and we have been exchanging letters since.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” you smiled. “I will keep your secret, but you have to tell me if the prince ever mentions Wonderland or Eden.”
“Not Eden,” Sieun admitted. “He asked about who was attending. You know a few ships do depart to Neverland on regular intervals despite the weather conditions so that is how I get my correspondences to happen quickly. The reason your sailors refuse to take trade material in this weather is because they aren’t as good of sailors as Neverland ones. For the people of Neverland, sailing is a necessity.”
“Right,” you agreed. “And?”
“I thought it was strange, but over the course of our… correspondences, Prince Jiwoong has been asking for updates on Wonderland. I thought he was interested in you first but it became clear that he was fishing for some information. I didn’t give much to him, but I think my error is that not long ago, I told him that Wonderland was concerned about an attack on the guests during their stay here. I’m so sorry, Princess. I did not know that it would turn out to be this bad and dangerous–”
“It’s okay,” you assured, caressing Sieun’s head. “Jiwoong could have guessed that either way. I think he just needed a target, and I’m sure there was not enough time for you or someone else to report to Jiwoong that Hongjoong was the first to leave, and for Jiwoong to arrange this attack. At least not this one– Hongjoong decided to leave only two days ago, so.”
“Does that mean that I’ll be safe?” Sieun asked.
“No,” you shook your head. “You need extra security now. I’m worried Jiwoong or the Neverland soldiers will take it out on you. I’ll make sure you'll be safe, just… try not to correspond right now?”
“I can do that,” Sieun agreed.
“Thank you for trusting me, Sieun,” you smiled affectionately. “It means a lot.”
“I can’t believe Jiwoong would do something like this…” Sieun bit her lips. “Will Hongjoong be okay?”
You looked at the young princess. She was as worried as everyone else, and perhaps the fact that she might have endangered Hongjoong would bother her until Hongjoong came back safely.
If he came back safely.
“Let’s all pray that he is,” you muttered, shaking your head and clenching your fists. “I’m going to make sure that he is. Don’t go out alone anymore, okay? You have to stay safe too.”
Sieun nodded and you left her room, accompanied by your guards to your own room.
Sleep did not come that night. With the princes out, you did not even bother getting into bed. You stayed on the couch, tossing and turning, waiting to hear back.
The first message you received was that they had found a trail of sorts. It appeared like Hongjoong had either gone somewhere or was taken by force– he had left something of his in the entire course of his path. Buttons from his dress, his ring, his jewellery– small, unnoticeable belongings. Yunho had followed it until it came to a stop at a certain location. The princes were going to search in the vicinity of that last spot now.
Either Hongjoong had run out of things to leave behind, or he had been unable to. You prayed that the former was the case.
Later that evening, you finally received a message. Hongjoong was being held hostage by a rebel group that Neverland was claiming to have no knowledge of. However, it was Sieun’s admission that had you thinking differently. Neverland– at least the embassy members here and not the royalty itself, in this case– definitely had everything to do with it.
Your parents were going to play safe because they were not aware. However, you were not going to sit still anymore.
“Princess,” your mother scolded. “It is dangerous for you to step outside. Hongjoong is Yunho’s responsibility now– I am sure that he will take care of it.”
“We are equally as responsible, if not more, mother,” you argued. Your father grunted in agreement or disapproval, you did not know. “I have information that the person who leaked the news of Hongjoong’s departure is a guard right here, in this castle. My source can recognise them. Do you understand the gravity of the situation now?”
“Then we pin it on the guard,” your father said. “If we shift the blame to Neverland, it is going to end badly, dear.”
“But Neverland is at fault, father,” you cried out. “The guard reported to the embassy. The embassy is Neverland’s representative here.”
“Royal involvement,” your father clarified. “There is no direct royal involvement.”
“But there is a political motive,” you reminded him. “Father… we have to threaten Neverland if we wish to get Hongjoong out of this alive. I… I cannot bear the thought of something happening to him. Please.”
Your mother inspected you closely while you fought back tears. By this point, your head hurt and your heart felt numb after aching for so long.
“I thought you liked Yunho,” she commented. “Was I wrong?”
“You were not,” you sighed. “This is not about who I like. This is a life, mother. The prince of Eden. Yunho’s closest friend. My best friend. He… he is my everything, please. Let me save him. Let me perform my duties.”
“If this goes wrong…”
“Then I will take responsibility,” you straightened, meeting eyes with the King. “I promise.”
“Go,” your mother said first, to your surprise. “But don’t do anything stupid, and keep Yunho by your side.”
“Okay, thank you– oh, goodness,” you cried out in relief. “Thank you.”
~
The Neverland embassy was situated not far from the castle, towards the east near the sea. It was an ideal location– close to the port to correspond with the Neverland natives who travelled back and forth regularly, to monitor trade and to conduct business with the royals and politicians of Wonderland.
You had visited here a few times, accompanying your father and your brother for meetings. Never did you think you would march here with soldiers and Yunho by your side, a black flag raised to indicate the severity of the matter.
The embassy members did not seem surprised. The foreign affairs minister of Neverland, Mr. Lee, welcomed you and Yunho with a restrained smile. You thought there was a knowing glint behind his eyes. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one involved– he was notorious for being a manipulative dealer, always extorting something beneficial even from the worst exchanges on the cost of anything but his own compromise or sacrifice.
“Tea?” He offered as he led you inside. You motioned the soldiers to stand by the door and you and Yunho did not take seats. You were to remain standing.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” you started. “Prince Kim Hongjoong of Eden is being held hostage by your embassy members.”
“A bold statement, Your Highness,” Mr. Lee commented. “Careful of your words– you never know when they will be used against you.”
“I have a message for Prince Jiwoong,” you ignored him and continued. This time, he paused while in the middle of pouring himself tea. It was just for a second, but enough for Yunho to notice and look at you in approval. “Tell the prince that if Prince Hongjoong is not returned to us unhurt within three days, there will be consequences.”
“Please, take a seat,” Mr. Lee said politely this time. Yunho urged you to accept his offer and you both sat yourselves across from him.
“You speak of consequences,” Mr. Lee commented.
“Well… The princes from Mist and Kiji are searching for their friend right now. The princess of the Kingdom of Hala is in my custody, safe. We have allies. I’m not sure Neverland has those right now.”
“From my understanding,” Mr. Lee began, “Prince Hongjoong left the castle two days ago, with a decoy. Is it not one of your guards then, that should be held accountable? Why would you assume that Neverland has something to do with it?”
“Come on, Mr. Lee,” Yunho smiled dangerously. “Let’s not pretend that Neverland is not antsy because of the recent trade conflict, and let’s not act like one of the royal guards was not a messenger delivering letters to someone here, who delivered those letters to Prince Jiwoong.”
Mr. Lee clenched his jaw, thinking. “It takes our sailors three days to make a one-way trip to Neverland. That’s too short a time frame that you demand.”
“We know that you have the best sailors,” you smirked. “From your words, if memory serves me right, your sailors can cross the waters in the worst conditions within a day and a half, right?”
By now, Mr. Lee was flushed heavily. He sipped his tea, unable to meet eyes.
“Then I suppose three days sounds about right. I’ll let the time touch the fourth day, if need be, as long as the prince is safe, but I swear that if I see a scratch on him–”
Yunho rested his hand over yours and you shut your mouth, seething. “He better be safe and sound, Mr. Lee. If I was you, I would be running to make sure nobody touches a hair on his body.”
With that, you and Yunho got up and left. You did not relax until you were back at the castle. The others had returned too– there was no point of a search party anymore. All you had to do was wait for Mr. Lee to arrange Hongjoong’s safe return.
You sat in Yunho’s arms, finally in privacy. Your maids and guards all left you alone tonight. They knew you needed each other, and they were not going to interfere.
“I have to do something,” Yunho sighed, caressing your arm. “I can’t just rely on Mr. Lee.”
“You have searched everywhere,” you reminded him. “Get some sleep tonight. You can leave early in the morning– make sure you eat something.”
“I don’t know,” Yunho sighed, tired. “I… do you know why Hongjoong was going back all of a sudden?”
Your heart sank but Yunho continued, his arms embracing you just a fraction tighter. “He was going to solve the matter of our hierarchy. He insisted that he would pass the crown to me. He said… he said that you deserved to be a queen and not just a princess.”
“Why does he think that I care about that?” You sniffed. “I just need you both alive and happy, like you always have been. It doesn’t matter who the king is.”
“That’s what I said, but he wouldn’t take a no for an answer,” Yunho said with a laugh. “He can be stubborn like that. He believes that I will make a great king, but he does not know how incredible of a leader he is. How selfless he is. I was going to pass the crown to him, but he decided to rush and beat me to it.”
“He should take this situation as a sign,” you joked. Yunho chuckled, agreeing.
You drew back, looking at Yunho properly. There were circles under his eyes and a scratch on his neck, perhaps from his search in the forest. You caressed his jaw lightly and moved to kiss his lips slowly, to offer some relief to him. He took it, his grip around you loose and undemanding.
“Hongjoong will return safely,” you assured after parting. “I believe it. You have to as well.”
“I believe it,” Yunho nodded. You smiled and kissed him some more before resting back in his arms.
At some point, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, drained. You were woken up by sharp knocks and your guard came rushing inside.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Prince, Princess,” he bowed. You shook your head, assuring him that he didn’t interrupt anything. “Mr. Lee has sent a message. They are releasing Prince Hongjoong. He asked you both to come to the embassy to retrieve the prince. He’s alive and well, Mr. Lee claims.”
You and Yunho looked at each other in surprise, sighing in relief and hugging each other, shedding tears of happiness. The guard watched you both fondly with a smile before dismissing himself.
“That was quicker than I expected,” Yunho kissed your forehead. “You certainly know how to play the game, Princess. Your threats worked.”
You sighed happily, getting up and reminding him that he should get ready as soon as possible. Within a matter of minutes, you both were on the way to the embassy, bracing yourselves for every possible situation. Things could still go wrong. You would not let your guard down until Hongjoong would return back to the castle.
Mr. Lee welcomed you both sombrely this time– none of his attitude in sight. You both marched inside and as soon as Yunho spotted Hongjoong, he was crushing him in a hug. You kept your emotions in check and stood watching with a mere hint of a smile on your face, your attention focused on Mr. Lee and alert for any suspicious activity from the guards.
“What about the people who attacked the prince?” You inquired.
“On the way to the court,” Mr. Lee assured. “I am sorry for the trouble, Princess. It appears that I should have kept my men in check, but I assure you that the royal family is not involved.”
You stifled a scoff. Like hell they weren’t.
“Ask your prince to clear his schedule and come for a meeting so that we can solve our conflicts once and for all,” you looked at Mr. Lee. “Prince Jiwoong is a friend. If he really is not involved in any of this, I will expect his presence soon.”
“Noted, Your Highness.”
You turned to look at the duo. Yunho was inspecting Hongjoong carefully while Hongjoong assured him that he was fine. He met eyes with you and you passed only a nod.
This was not the place for anything else.
Your way back was silent. Hongjoong rode with Yunho in one carriage, you with your guards in another. As soon as you entered the castle walls, he was bombarded with hugs and kisses and everything in between from the princes and princesses. You smiled at their interaction and excused yourself to report to your parents after which you went to your room.
You excused all your servants and stood by the window with tears in your eyes. Tears of relief, of happiness, everything. Hongjoong was safe.
He was okay. You saved him– you all did.
A knock sounded and you opened the door, surprised to find Yunho there.
“Is everything okay?” You asked. “Is Hongjoong okay? Did he get a medical checkup–”
“He’s fine,” Yunho assured you with a laugh. “I’m here to make sure that you are okay.”
“I… I am,” you said, sniffing. Your nose was still runny from all the crying earlier. Yunho raised a brow.
“Are you going to lie to my face now?”
“No… okay, I may have cried tears of happiness because Hongjoong made it back safely. A girl can cry, right?” You laughed lightly. Yunho wasn’t having any of it, though.
“Then how come you haven’t even said hello to him?”
You pursed your lips guiltily while Yunho folded his arms.
“How long are you going to avoid him?” Yunho asked. “How long are you going to pretend that you don’t love him?”
Someone must have snatched the ground from under your feet because you almost stumbled. “Yunho–”
“I’m not asking for an explanation,” Yunho shook his head. “Just… he’s here. Let him inside, my love. Stop creating walls around yourself– I don’t like you like this.”
Yunho did not wait for an answer. He motioned to who you assumed was Hongjoong. You turned before you could see him because you were sure that your eyes would give you away. Did Yunho know everything?
“I’m going to be in the study,” Yunho said after you heard the door close. “Take your time, and please… for the love of god, stop avoiding each other and stop avoiding your feelings.”
You heard Hongjoong grunt uncomfortably but Yunho left with a wink thrown in your direction. You were thoroughly confused.
“Hongjoong?” You whispered.
“I’m here,” he confirmed, moving closer behind you. “I’m sorry for making you so worried, my dear.”
“Don’t be,” you said, placing your hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. The tears were enough. You stood with your arms folded, unable to face the prince, unable to say anything. You had to get a grip, but it was too much–
Except that when you felt Hongjoong’s arms wrap around your waist, it was suddenly all okay. Your mind cleared and you sighed in relief, letting him embrace you. He rested his cheek against your head, his lips ghosting over your temple.
“I’m still sorry for parting like that,” Hongjoong said, nudging your cheek with the tip of his nose. Your back arched and you shut your eyes, drinking in every moment of this proximity. “It was reckless of me. That could have been our last conversation.”
“Don’t say that,” your voice was laced with pain. “Don’t you ever leave me like that, Joong.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, rocking you both back and forth for a few moments. “Won’t you look at me, love?”
It took immense effort to part. You turned in his embrace to face him and Hongjoong caressed your face lovingly. “You look like you were the hostage,” he teased. “I seem to be in a better condition than you.”
“Shut up,” you muttered. Hongjoong grinned, kissing your forehead affectionately. “Did they… did they hurt you?”
“It was a bloody mess at first,” Hongjoong told you. “But just a couple of bruises. They only meant to strike a deal using me but that clearly didn’t work because the princess decided to play smart.”
You observed Hongjoong closely. He did appear just fine– a bruise peeking on his chest, one on his wrist, probably some more covered by his clothes but he was fine. He was alive, safe, back in your arms.
You belonged here.
“You have no idea how scared I was,” you muttered. Now it was the anger speaking and Hongjoong’s smile fell. Your voice started to grow louder. “Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that, Kim Hongjoong. I swear to god that I will never speak to you if you leave me like this again– I… I could not sleep a wink! The thought of something happening to you– it would have been my fault, did you know that?”
“Princess–”
“Don’t you princess me!” You scolded him. From your peripheral, you could make out the distant figure of Yunho, probably stepping out to see if everything was alright. Hongjoong gripped you tighter while you tried to struggle away.
“You,” you smacked Hongjoong’s chest. “If something happened to you, I would have blamed myself for the rest of my life. Did you have to leave so soon? Was sharing the same space with me that difficult?”
“Of course not,” Hongjoong looked hurt. “I was being selfish.”
“Yes!” You smacked his chest again, hard, the corners of your lips drooping. “You’re a selfish, stupid man, Kim Hongjoong. Going to your kingdom to crown Yunho the king and make me the queen at what cost? At the cost of your life? At the cost of my love? I don’t need that title, Joong. I’m fine being stripped of all luxuries if that means you are alive and happy, did you realise that?”
“My dear–”
“How would I… how would I have lived with myself?” You finally sobbed and Hongjoong held back his own tears. “I gave my heart to you and Yunho, split perfectly in two. How would I have lived with only half of my heart? If you can’t love me back, you should have never made me miserable like this. I feel like a sinner everyday,” you sobbed, Yunho closer now, also overwhelmed by your confession. “I feel like a sinner. I’m undeserving and selfish because I decided that if I can’t have you both, I… I would have none of you. It will kill me.”
You sobbed violently now, tired. There seemed to be no end to this pain, to the steps your heart had taken. Hongjoong looked at Yunho, helpless. Yunho smiled sadly, urging Hongjoong to hold you so he did. He wrapped you in his embrace and sank to the ground, letting you cry your heart out until you passed out in his arms from exhaustion, showered by kisses and pecks from both the princes who had huddled close to you.
“I did not realise how painful this was for her,” Hongjoong spoke in a low volume, caressing your hair. You were sound asleep now– apparently, you had not slept this whole time save for the few hours with Yunho this morning. “I am a foolish man, it seems.”
“Now you see why I search for a solution,” Yunho was warming your hands. He kissed your fingertips softly. “I can’t let her go. I know you can’t either. I know that she will not let either of us go.”
“There is no solution,” Hongjoong looked at Yunho. “You both marry each other, while I watch from the sidelines.”
“But… what if we change that?”
Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “I know that look in your eyes. Scheming.”
“Listen,” Yunho shook his head. “I read probably every book and record in the library, searching for an instance like this. The only recorded ones are of kings with their several mistresses. If there was an instance of a queen or a princess having more than one partner, it is never mentioned.”
“For good reasons,” Hongjoong reminded the younger prince. “The world is cruel enough to women as it is.”
Yunho nodded. “If y/n is willing and if you are… I am open to a relationship like this, Joong.”
“Like what?”
“This,” Yunho motioned between them. The princes’ legs were almost tangled while you nested between them. “I really don’t mind such a relationship since it’s you.”
Hongjoong’s cheeks flushed at the possibility. He watched you and Yunho for a long time– how you held his hands subconsciously even in your sleep.
“This is… surprising, to say the least,” Hongjoong started. “I’ve known you as a relatively reserved person, Yunho. Someone who respected the traditions of chastity and whatnot. Do you understand the implications of your offer? If word gets out, we might be stripped of our titles. All of us.”
“I understand,” Yunho assured. “I think it’s high time we put an end to this stupid tradition. When you become the king, you can do that.”
“I will not become the king–”
“You will,” Yunho shook his head. “Everything aside, there is no better leader for the Kingdom of Eden. It has to be you.”
“They will ask me to marry,” Hongjoong reminded him. “They will ask for offsprings.”
“She can decide who she would like to marry, and if she would ever like to have children,” Yunho kissed your hands again. “But I will let her know that I’m open to this kind of a relationship for the rest of my life. If she accepts… we will work out the technicals later.”
“I don’t know if you’re being gracious or being stupid,” Hongjoong scoffed. “This… this is reckless.”
“Neither,” Yunho almost smirked. “You know I hate to lose.”
Hongjoong raised a brow. “This is not funny.”
Yunho took a deep breath. “I would hate to lose either of you, okay?” He admitted. “I don’t want to part from her. I know she won’t part from me either. If this was anyone else, I would have fought back, but it’s you. I can’t lose you either. I know that if we decide to marry, you will create a wall and I will finally lose when I fail to break it or climb past it. I…”
Yunho took Hongjoong’s hand this time. Hongjoong looked at him in surprise.
“You are my best friend, and I love you dearly,” Yunho confessed. “You are my soulmate. You get me like no one else. You accept me for who I am. I cannot live without you, and I cannot live with the idea of you being so close yet so far away. I will give you anything you ask me to. If you asked me to give y/n up, I would have genuinely considered it. The decision is still hers– if she decides to leave me for you, I will accept it wholly, but if she decides to be with both of us, then there’s nothing better for me. I trust you with my heart and my soul, Joong.”
Hongjoong was overwhelmed. He squeezed Yunho’s hand after a moment, conveying everything that he could not with his eyes. Yunho smiled and shifted so that he was on the floor, his head resting on Hongjoong’s lap with you in his arms between them.
“Isn’t this nice?” Yunho asked. Hongjoong rested his back against the couch, finally chuckling. “We could spend the rest of our lives like this, the three of us. Think about it while I sleep. I haven’t really slept either.”
While Yunho closed his eyes and immediately passed out, Hongjoong watched him for a long time, caressing his hair now. His other half. That is who Yunho was.
Could this be possible? For the three of you to spend the rest of your lives in each other's arms?
At some point, Yunho and Hongjoong left the room. It would have been unwise to stay. However, the two had a talk with you the very next day and Yunho offered you something almost unbelievable.
The two were going to leave soon, with the rest of the guests. Now that Neverland had accepted Wonderland’s demands to put a temporary halt on trade out of pure fear, things had finally calmed down. Hongjoong personally thanked Sieun for helping him out and you could tell that the weight was off her shoulders now. There was a celebration party and for the first time in a while, you had fun without worrying about anyone else.
It was a memory you would remember forever. Hongjoong and Yunho dancing with each other in the most silly manner, Wooyoung and you in a tango laughing your heads off, San and Minjeong making fun of Jongho’s charade while Jeongin and Sieun gave more ideas. Drinks circulated around and music filled everyone’s hearts. The adults let you all be, though you were sure that after tonight, they would be keeping an eye on San and Minjeong. There was certainly something going on there.
The farewell was a happy one. They all left within the same day at different times. You were appreciated for your hospitality and for your courage. You were invited everywhere and you promised everyone that you would definitely visit soon. They had offered their assistance while searching for Hongjoong and you would be forever grateful for that. You decided to personally visit everyone with gifts and thank them over the course of the next few months.
Yunho and Hongjoong gave you 4 months time to think. One of them would become the crown prince within 2 months, though they would not descend the throne until the current King gave away his crown or passed away. None of them were in a rush, but the crown prince had to be decided. They allowed you to choose your partner after that.
Partner. Or partners.
You had a choice to choose them both without judgement.
It was daunting. Yunho and Hongjoong explained to you in depth what it would entail. The discussion took place in a good few sittings so that everyone would be clear of the dynamics if you decided to accept them both.
If Hongjoong was the next king, which he seemed to finally come to terms with– you suspected Yunho had threatened him with something but really, Hongjoong was the one for the role– he would be required to have children, but there were exceptions. Hongjoong could pass the crown to Yunho at any point in his life, or one of Yunho’s children, if any.
Yunho and Hongjoong were both adamant that they would not marry or have more partners in case that you decided to have them both as partners. You argued that they could change their mind but the look in their eyes, the sincerity… it made you think otherwise.
In any case, you would have to marry one of them. If you marry Hongjoong, you would be obligated to have his child. If you married Yunho, you would not be obligated to have children. You told them that you did intend to have a family in future. You did not intend to let the royal bloodline of Eden die like this– this was risking a lot. If the people of Eden saw that there were no heirs anymore, it could get bad.
So you made them promise that in case you were not able to bear children, the unmarried one would get married for the sake of a family. They would look for love, marry and have children. Though they hated the idea of it right now, you told them that if they could accept you with two partners, you could certainly do the same– for the sake of their kingdom. For the sake of a peaceful life.
Now, it was time for you to decide who to marry.
It took a lot of thinking to get to a decision. If you married Hongjoong, Yunho would be left with neither the title nor a wife. That seemed unfair to Yunho, especially after all your promises to marry him. Hongjoong had talked to you in private and urged you to marry Yunho if you really did not care for the title of the queen after all.
So when you made the decision, you sent two letters. One addressed to Yunho, and one addressed to Hongjoong, both containing just two words.
I do.
It was a chaotic start to the big day of Hongjoong’s coronation as the next king of the Kingdom of Eden.
The three of you could hardly get any sleep. Hongjoong’s restlessness was valid but Yunho and you both were perhaps as nervous as him, and heaps more excited. Yunho was extremely happy to see Hongjoong become the king. He insisted that Hongjoong was a natural leader and that he would make a far better ruler than Yunho ever could. Hongjoong insisted otherwise. You agreed with both– the two had full potential to become great kings, but even to you, Hongjoong’s coronation felt very natural.
The three of you spent the night in each other’s arms. Hongjoong shared his worries and anxieties about the future and how the weight of the crown felt heavy already. Yunho promised to share his burden, create a bond like their fathers who had shared the crown as well. You spent hours caressing Hongjoong’s hair to comfort him.
This was becoming a routine– spending the night together, the three of you. After your marriage to Yunho, this was your new home, right between the two of them. Your chamber was designed by Hongjoong to be between his and Yunho’s, with a door in your bedroom opening to your husband’s for convenience.
A door in your study opened to Hongjoong’s study. As his personal advisor, this was also for convenience, though it served another purpose– Hongjoong sharing your bed.
It took you a while to get used to these new dynamics. After spending your whole life believing that being reserved and suppressing your desires was the acceptable way to live, especially as a royal figure, breaking the old tradition was not an easy feat. Simply kissing Yunho and being with Hongjoong had felt like a sin earlier. It took you a while to learn that being with the both of them was okay.
Sure, you had to be careful. For the public, Yunho was your husband and it was going to stay that way. You had no desire to explain yourself to anyone. Yunho and Hongjoong both wanted you. You all wanted each other. That was enough to last you a lifetime.
Anyone who thought that there was something between you and Hongjoong would easily dismiss their thoughts since Yunho was so obviously in love with you. His eyes dripped with unfiltered affection whenever he looked at you, especially now that you were his wife. He was proud of you and flaunted you publicly. And he loved Hongjoong dearly too. The public may have been curious about the relationship between the three of you at first but now, they just believed what you made them see– that the three of you were tightly knit and loved and respected each other.
It was out of that respect and love that Yunho urged Hongjoong to take the crown. Even after your deal of marrying Yunho so that Hongjoong could be the king, Hongjoong was unsure. He insisted that he did not need the crown and that he would spend a happy life as the second prince to Yunho. Yunho, however, was not going to rest until Hongjoong became king. It was possible that he felt obligated to give Hongjoong something– after all, he had taken you as his wife. He would not be selfish and take the crown too.
Hongjoong joked that if he never had children, the crown would be going back to Yunho’s bloodline, but that was a later problem. Right now, Hongjoong needed to become the next king of Eden. His parents wanted to crown him in their lifetime, and Yunho’s parents wished to see a coronation in their lifetime too.
It was no wonder that Yunho and Hongjoong were the way they were– so full of love. Their parents were very close. It was rare to have such a bond when rivalry arose even among siblings. You vowed to yourself that if Hongjoong ever married someone, especially with the intention of having his own children, that you would love and accept them as the princes accepted you despite your unusual desire to have them both.
This was the first step towards crowning Hongjoong. He would become king– was he not a king already, you wondered? His thoughts and words were meticulous, his steps grand and his demeanour composed. He called you ‘my queen’. In your heart, he had always been the king.
You smiled at the thought and then realised that you were zoning out again. Yeosang, Yunho’s Right Hand, waited for a moment before calling your name.
“I think you need to find Prince Hongjoong,” he started, looking around. “He needs to wait in the next room– the event is about to start.”
“He’s probably hiding in one of his spots again,” Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s Right Hand, said with a sigh. “I need to welcome the foreign guests. Do you mind searching for him, Princess? Or should I send one of the guards?”
“No, I’ll go,” you assured him. You and Seonghwa both knew that Hongjoong did not like to be interrupted when he went into ‘hiding’. Sending a guard might spoil his mood, especially when he was so sensitive these days. “I just need to find Mingi, greet the guests that have arrived, make sure the king and the queen are seated, find Yunho’s parents–”
“Relax,” Mingi interrupted with a laugh and you sighed happily.
“That’s one thing off my list.”
“You can greet the guests later– get Hongjoong. And maybe find Yunho too,” Mingi sighed. “What am I the advisor for when he never takes my advice?”
“Never is an overstatement,” you winked at Mingi. “I’ll give him an earful.”
Mingi bowed sarcastically and you took off, gathering the fabric of your burgundy velvet gown in your hands and speed-walking towards his private library. That is probably where Hongjoong would be–
Except the library was empty. The roof, maybe? You thought and sent one of the guards ahead to ask the guards stationed at the roof’s entrance and confirm if the crown prince was there. A no came for an answer and you stood thinking.
These were two of his favourite spots to be alone at. The third was in a corner of the garden but you reckoned that he wouldn’t be there today.
Was he in his room then?
With unsure steps, you walked towards the section of the castle where all three of you had your chambers, next to each other. Hongjoong had contributed to many architectural changes over the course of the years but this one was probably his most thoughtful work. He had corresponded with you a lot to make sure you had everything you needed.
You told him that you simply needed the two of them by your sides, and he made that happen.
You went to your chamber. It was empty save for the guards outside. You decided to access Hongjoong’s chamber through the door that connected your studies, but a shadow in the corner of your eye caught your attention–
Someone was in your room.
You walked with guarded steps this time, relaxing instantly when you saw that it was Hongjoong. He was standing in front of your mirror, fixing his clothes and attempting to straighten his collar but struggling.
“Here,” you called gently, moving to fix it for him. He was caught by surprise but allowed you to smoothen his clothes. You ran your hands over the expanse of his chest when you were done, looking him in the eyes.
“Everyone’s trying to find you,” you said. “Yet you’re here in my room. I looked for you in your usual spots.”
“They didn’t feel comfortable today,” Hongjoong admitted, looking at himself in the mirror again. “This room… it’s warm. It is like a cocoon. I feel like I can hide here and be myself.”
Your heart melted at his words. For your room to feel like his safe space… you sighed happily.
“Are you very nervous?” You asked the obvious and a small smile tugged at his lips. “What’s taking you so long this time? I thought you would steel your nerves and be present beforehand.”
Hongjoong took a deep breath. “I just keep wondering if I’m really fit to be the king. I… I am not like anyone of my predecessors, y/n. I will make changes to the kingdom, its laws and its traditions that my subjects might not like. What if I… what if I let everyone down?”
You cradled Hongjoong’s jaw and kissed his lips gently.
“I am sure of one thing, and that is that you strive to make this kingdom feel like a safe space for all of your subjects,” you said. “That makes you the most empathetic king in history already.”
Hongjoong chuckled. You heard shuffling and soon, Yunho joined the two of you, leaning against the doorframe and watching you both with adoration.
“Tell him that he is going to be a great king,” you urged Yunho.
“He knows it, and that is what scares him,” Yunho commented and Hongjoong gave him a look. You supposed that Yunho got that right. “To achieve great things, you must be prepared for some amount of pushback. Isn’t that what you always said to me?”
Hongjoong nodded. You watched him struggle with his internal conflict for a few moments, his hands in yours clenching and unclenching as he caught his breath.
“I guess I’m just overwhelmed…” Hongjoong admitted, looking between you two. “I’m afraid to disappoint the two of you the most.”
“Oh, Hongjoong,” you sighed, looking helplessly at Yunho. Yunho appeared surprised to hear that too.
“You’ve never disappointed me, Hongjoong. Not even once, you hear me?” Yunho assured, a fire in his eyes. “I don’t like that you think that. You know that I am with you every step of the way. You really aren’t alone in this, Joong.”
“The title is heavy,” you agreed with Hongjoong, “but we are both with you to share the burden. You won’t be alone. You will always, always have us. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”
“Always?” Hongjoong looked at you, the most vulnerable you had seen him.
You nodded. He looked at Yunho and he nodded as well, stepping closer.
Hongjoong sank to one knee in front of you, taking your hands and kissing both of them.
“You will forever be my queen,” Hongjoong reminded you. “Just because I wear the crown does not mean that there will be distance between us.”
“Of course,” your heart fluttered at his words. He looked up at you with a smile and then looked at Yunho.
“And you…” Hongjoong took a deep breath, reaching out for him. Yunho sat down in front of him, now at eye-level. “You will always be my king, Yunho. I may be everyone else’s king but you… you will be mine.”
Yunho was awestruck. He shook his head in disbelief and Hongjoong set his hands on his shoulders firmly. You patted Yunho’s back, letting your hand rest there in comfort.
“It’s that simple, Yunho,” Hongjoong smiled. “I’m grateful to you for a lot of things–”
“Please,” Yunho’s voice was thick with emotions. “You need to stop using such words as grateful.”
“You know that I’ll always be, because the two of you didn’t leave me alone,” Hongjoong confessed and you felt an ache in your heart. You wished to comfort him and tell him that it wasn’t something he needed to be grateful for. You both loved him, it was just that. “I always imagined watching you both from the sidelines. Allow me some time to come to terms with the fact that you both wanted me in your life as much as I wanted you both in mine.”
Yunho nodded. Time… he could give him that, if only it meant that Hongjoong would stop acting like he owed him his life.
“If I was alone and became the next king, it would have crushed me,” Hongjoong admitted. “But now… I can go and walk with my shoulders straight, knowing that you two have my back.”
“That’s enough,” Yunho chuckled uncomfortably, not used to such compliments from Hongjoong even after all this time. “I get it. You love us.”
The three of you laughed and Hongjoong shook his head. “Yeah, I suppose that it sums everything up. I love you both.”
Yunho smiled. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hongjoong’s in a long, meaningful kiss. They joined foreheads and remained like that for a few moments, each of them holding your hands as you settled next to them.
“Are you ready to bear the crown, Hongjoong?” You asked.
Seeing the switch in his eyes when he confirmed that he was ready was one thing, but watching him walk in the coronation hall with his posture straight and head held high was something else entirely. You and Yunho waited for him at the front. The current king, Hongjoong’s father, recited the vows as Hongjoong walked. Once he was at the front, he turned and bowed to everyone.
“Are you ready to bear the crown, Kim Hongjoong?” His father asked.
“I am ready,” Hongjoong responded, voice unwavering.
“Then step up and receive the crown.”
Hongjoong bowed deeply to his father. He stepped on the podium and walked to the two of you. Yunho went first, putting his father’s ring on Hongjoong’s index finger– a family heirloom. You went next, putting on the king’s cloak on his shoulder, Yunho helping with the lapels.
Once you were done, you met his eyes. You shared a nod and he went to the queen next, receiving a motherly kiss before going to his father.
The audience seemed to hold their breath as the king took off his crown and put it on Hongjoong’s head. Unsurprisingly, it fit perfectly.
“Kneel to your subjects, King Kim Hongjoong of the Kingdom of Eden. This is the first and the last time you will ever kneel to your subjects.”
Hongjoong took to the centre and bent down, kneeling on the ground and bowing with his head. Just like that, the coronation was complete. The audience cheered enthusiastically– long live the king.
Hongjoong stood up and found the two of you again, going into the middle and taking your hands and squeezing. You both smiled at him and Hongjoong was finally able to breathe.
Soon, you were joined by the princes and princesses from all over the continent. All of your friends were present– Wooyoung, San and Jongho, Minjeong and Sieun, even Jiwoong from Neverland. Jeongin and your family, as well as the royals that left their kingdoms in pursuit of love. Surrounded by your people, you felt at ease. Hongjoong felt the same, loosening up once the boys started to joke around about him being the first friend to be crowned king.
The night ended on a festive note, but it wasn’t truly complete until the three of you got comfortable in your true home– in each other’s arms.
a/n: there is a deleted smut scene this time but due to lack of space in this post, i couldn't post it and i did not want to split this into two parts. if you want to read it, you'll have to lmk ;) it's ft. both yunho and hongjoong so um best of both worlds ig jkfgdg
epilogue to desire but can be read as a standalone (contains spoilers if you read this first)
genres and warnings: royal au, established relationship, smut (mdni!) threesome, unprotected sex (do nawt), very experimental tbh
word count: 3.4k
a/n: this would have been a part of the fic itself but tumblr has a 1000 block limit which did not allow me to post sooo here it is! it's my first time writing poly smut lmao i hope you enjoy~
No matter how much time passed, you were not sure that you would ever get used to being with two lovers.
It was not that it was too much, no. It was overwhelming in the best way– you were showered with love. You were blessed– were you being rewarded for something good that you had done in your past life? This was a life that you could have only dreamed of.
Yunho and Hongjoong, both in your reach. One to your left, one to your right.
Hongjoong was a genius in designing the new royal chambers of the castle like this. As the future king of Eden, he had the authority to make whatever changes he wished to make, and his first were architectural ones. He designed your chamber with you– a large room with a bed big enough to accommodate all three of them. A large bath with enough space for two. Your own personal study as wife to the second-in-command, Prince Yunho, and the king’s personal advisor.
Yunho’s chamber was to your left, a door in your bedroom opening to his bedroom. It was ideal as husband and wife. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, there was a door in your study that opened to Hongjoong’s study. To anyone who demanded an explanation, they would only get that you and the king conducted meetings there for ‘convenience’ purposes. Hongjoong was always a great actor and he was becoming known for being ‘uninterested’ in you.
No one needed to know that his constant jabs and teasing remarks were his second nature. Nothing had changed for the public– he still got on your nerves, and you still shot daggers from distance. You were sure most were confused about the nature of your relationship with him, but no one would guess.
Not when you and Yunho were so obviously in love, married to each other. Not when Yunho and Hongjoong were as close as they could be.
A few months had passed since your marriage. It took you a while to find a balance in your relationship, and the princes were incredibly helpful and understanding. They demanded almost nothing from you, taking everything at your own pace. You slept with Yunho mostly since he was the more familiar person in your relationship.
It was Hongjoong that made you as excited as a little girl.
It really was a different kind of fire with him. At first, just being with him felt like you were committing a sin– you were married to Yunho, yet you were in Hongjoong’s arms, submitting to him, letting him kiss you in places that he shouldn’t have been allowed to touch you.
Perhaps, it was the forbidden nature of your relationship that made you feel so differently, or just the fact that this was… Hongjoong. You supposed that if you had married him, you would have still shied away from him like this.
The first time you slept with Hongjoong changed your brain chemistry forever. It was Yunho who prepared you that night, urging you to relax, comforting you with kisses and then leaving you alone once a surprised Hongjoong arrived. Yunho was aware that you yearned for Hongjoong, and he made sure that you were ready for him.
You asked Yunho to stay, and shut your mouth immediately. However, Yunho didn’t seem too opposed to that idea.
“Shall I?” He had asked. Hongjoong said that he did not mind as long as you were comfortable. After spending another hour making sure if you were ready, if you really wanted this, Yunho sat at a distance watching you both make love with a fondness and a fire in his eyes that was unreadable.
After that, you slept with Hongjoong without Yunho too, but… something about Yunho’s presence while you made love to Hongjoong was enticing. And a few times Hongjoong walked in on you and Yunho and decided to stay…
You could not get it out of your head.
What did having multiple partners really meant, you wondered? If you had both of them at an arm’s reach… could you not have both of them at the same time?
When you suggested it to Yunho, he looked like he saw it coming. You later suggested it to Hongjoong. He was just a little surprised but he accepted immediately.
Whatever my queen wants.
My queen, he called you, even though you did not marry him. It did not make you greedy for the title, it only made your toes curl in pleasure.
It was just another night. You finished work in your study, tired after dealing with all the foreign advisors during the day. You had already taken a bath and the plan was for you to fall right into your bed and pass out– if one of the princes or both decided to join you, they could sleep with you.
Except that they had other ideas. Somehow, the two came to your room almost at the same time when you had just changed into your nightwear and gotten under your sheets.
“Ah, impeccable timing,” you stifled a yawn. “I was just about to sleep. Grab your pillows, boys, and make yourselves comfortable.”
Yunho grinned and followed almost immediately, snuggling with you. Hongjoong watched with a smile and took his time to find the perfect position, resting his head on his hand with his elbow propped on the pillow. He intended to watch you sleep– he did that a lot.
“--so I told Seonghwa that he needed to be more vocal about his demands. You can’t just let the foreign advisors trample all over you, right? Mingi agreed, thankfully,” you were ranting about your day, suddenly having found the energy when Yunho asked. “And then Yeosang went ahead and joked about something from their past. Can you imagine the chaos?” You laughed lightly, feeling Hongjoong’s lips on the curve of your neck. He had been teasing like that for a while now. “Louder than Wooyoung and Jongho.”
“You love them, don’t you?” Yunho laughed, his eyes following Hongjoong while he kissed and sucked at your shoulder. “You love bossing them around.”
“They love being bossed around. That’s… different…” you trailed, stifling a moan when Hongjoong kissed at the sweet spot on your neck, his hand slipping the strap of your gown to the side. With your back facing him, he was having fun.
“They adore you, that’s true. Mingi finally has his intellectual match– he can’t stop raving about it,” Yunho rubbed your lower lip with the pad of his thumb.
“He is an excellent advisor. I thought he would be mad that he is not the king’s advisor,” you referred to Hongjoong. “But I guess he prefers you more.”
“We’ve been friends since childhood, so naturally, yes,” Yunho agreed, his fingers trailing down to your sternum. “Hongjoong has his match, right? He doesn’t need anyone else. Seonghwa was happy to be the right hand and Yeosang mine.”
“Hmmm…” you weren’t sure if that was a sound of agreement or one of pleasure. Hongjoong was grabbing you at the dip of your waist with one hand while his other hand tangled in your hair, lips latched to your neck. Yunho was starting to fondle your breast through the silk fabric of your nightgown.
You were suddenly very aware of what was going on. The two of them… they were in a daze now, the same look in their eyes whenever they desired you. You curled towards Yunho and he drew closer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.
The moan that left your lips then was probably what did it for them. Almost in synchronisation, Yunho was clutching you closer and making out with you passionately while Hongjoong drew close until your back was flush to his, kissing and nibbling on your neck, with his hands on your breasts wedged between you and Yunho.
“My love,” Yunho pulled apart, almost gasping for air. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Better than okay,” you breathed, pushing the loose strands of his hair away from his face. His hair had grown longer now, tied into a lazy ponytail. You loved this hairstyle on him incredibly. “Please don’t stop– both of you.”
“Whatever my queen demands,” Hongjoong whispered, turning your face to kiss your lips. Yunho smiled and you groaned into Hongjoong’s mouth, heat coursing throughout your body at the fact that the ghost of Yunho’s lips was still on yours when Hongjoong replaced it with his.
Hongjoong trailed his lips down your jaw hungrily, leaving fiery kisses along his path. He was a goner now, a determined fire in his eyes.
“Are you ready to ruin our princess tonight, Yunho?” Hongjoong asked, eyes watching yours intently.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Yunho sounded short of breath. “Do your thing, Hongjoong. Make her cry.”
“Yunho,” you whined, immediately knowing what he was referring to. Hongjoong only smirked, allowing Yunho to take off your nightgown, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties.
They moved quickly– Yunho shifted the upper half of your body in his lap and Hongjoong spread your legs, kissing a path up your thigh to your core. Yunho held your arms in place, reminding you that you could make them stop at any time. All you had to say was the word ‘red’. They were not going to take your pleas to ‘stop’ seriously because you said that all the time.
“I will never get used to this,” Hongjoong swiped two fingers up your panties to check how wet you were. Your thighs trembled and you shook but he gripped them, looking at you dangerously. “Are you ready?”
You nodded slowly.
“That’s my girl,” Hongjoong said, taking your panties off incredibly slowly as if making a show of it. Yunho smirked, kissing your forehead once.
“You’re going to let him eat you like a good girl, aren’t you?” Yunho asked, caressing your face sweetly. You nodded.
“Use your words, princess. Tell me. Are you going to be a good girl?”
Another course of arousal spread in your core at his demanding tone. “Yes sir. I’m going to be a good girl.”
“Perfect,” Yunho looked at Hongjoong. “Go ahead. Get a taste of her.”
Hongjoong smirked. This time, he did not immediately dive in like he always did. He was showing restraint, sliding his fingers up and down around your wetness, playing with your clit lazily and you scoffed.
“What was that?” Hongjoong asked, a warning look in his eyes.
“You’re being… too much,” you sighed.
“That’s not what you need to say right now,” Hongjoong lowered, letting his breath caress your clit and you shivered violently. “Say please and maybe I’ll help you.”
“What is wrong with you–”
“Nuh, uh, Princess,” Yunho warned, his fingers ghosting on your lips. “Don’t make me shut you up.”
Your lips parted at the feeling of his fingers near your mouth. Yunho raised a brow, testing and watching your mouth part, begging for his fingers.
You needed something– anything– inside you, somewhere. It was too much–
“Say it,” Yunho said gently in a whisper.
“Please,” you responded to both of them.
Immediately, Hongjoong had his lips latched to your folds, his tongue gathering your wetness in loud slurps. You almost folded and Yunho held you in place, two his fingers entering your mouth right as Hongjoong inserted one finger inside you. You moaned, sucking at Yunho’s fingers while rocking your hips– or at least, attempting to. You had hardly any control– Hongjoong was determined to not let you move except to clench your thighs around his head while he fingered you and sucked at you, alternating between kisses and licks to your clit.
You could not tell Yunho that you were close, but the two of them knew. You were starting to tremble, tense and jerk. Hongjoong grew more enthusiastic in his movements, his face practically buried in your core with his nose brushing your clit. Yunho swirled his fingers around the cavity of your mouth and all of a sudden, the knot that had been building in your stomach released and you cried out.
Yunho helped you ride your orgasm out while Hongjoong licked you, determined not to let anything go to waste.
When he finally got up, he felt a little dizzy. His mouth was wet with your release and he did not care to wipe it. He caught his breath, his eyes stuck on Yunho.
“Want a taste of her?” He asked.
Yunho scoffed in good humour. “Why not?”
However, he did not expect Hongjoong to crawl right in front of him. Hongjoong waited, his gaze stuck on Yunho’s lips as if asking for permission.
You watched the cogs in Yunho’s brain turn. Then he was clutching at Hongjoong, their lips in a battle and hands tangled in each other’s hair and clothes. You thought that you could come again just at the sight of the two kissing.
This was what had been missing. You sighed in relief, laughing lightly while Yunho kissed Hongjoong with a ferocity that had the older arching back. His fingers worked on Hongjoong’s shirt expertly, taking it off with a practised ease and cradling his face while their tongues battled for dominance. Hongjoong returned the favour, pulling away and gasping but Yunho was challenged and he was not a loser.
He wanted a taste of you, so he was going to get it. He licked at Hongjoong’s lips and let his tongue swirl around to gather your lingering wetness. Finally, when he was done and he could taste nothing but Hongjoong’s own lips, he broke apart, an unreadable look in his eyes.
You observed the two watch each other, still holding close, catching their breaths and making sense of their feelings. You were smiling so widely now that your cheeks were starting to hurt.
“Uh… I’m sorry to interrupt,” you started. “But this was long time coming. Just kiss and make up. Don’t think too much.”
“Princess,” Yunho groaned and started to chuckle, Hongjoong soon joining. All three of you were a laughing mess now.
“No, please, by all means, carry on,” you urged. “I can simply sit back and watch.”
Hongjoong shook his head in amusement and then looked at Yunho. “Are you okay with this?”
“You should have asked this earlier,” Yunho laughed. “But yes. I… I’m okay. More than okay.”
“Good lord,” Hongjoong breathed, tangling his hands in Yunho’s hair. “Come here.”
The two of them shared a sweet kiss and joined their foreheads, processing their emotions. You let them take their time.
“Let’s not leave the princess neglected for too long,” Hongjoong said and Yunho agreed. “I still have plans to ruin her now that we’re doing this together.”
“Together,” Yunho agreed with a smile. You shrugged, awaiting their next move.
Yunho took off his pants, muttering that he was going to go first. “I hope you prepped her right, Joong?”
“Of course I did,” Hongjoong looked at Yunho’s swollen cock. “You might want to do that again, though…”
Yunho smirked. He was definitely the bigger one, though Hongjoong was just as thick, he could see that now that Hongjoong had stripped too.
“You can take it though,” Yunho climbed on top of you, letting the tip of his cock rub against your wet folds. “Can’t you?” He tucked your hair away with his hands and you nodded.
“Good girl.”
He kissed your lips now, slow but demanding, letting you get comfortable under him. Hongjoong sat near you, rubbing slow, soft circles on your stomach. When Yunho started to enter, you felt the sting and you winced slightly but the two were gushing all over you, showering you with kisses and praises. You squeezed Hongjoong’s hand tightly while Yunho bottomed out, groaning.
“God, you’re wonderful, fuck,” Yunho muttered. “So good. So perfect, my dear.”
Tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks. Hongjoong wiped them, leaving kisses in his trail.
“Move, Yunho,” he commanded and Yunho immediately obeyed, thrusting in a slow and steady rhythm. Hongjoong latched to your breasts, not going slow and teasing you immensely, making the pleasure course twofold this time. Your moans and gasps filled the room as Yunho sped up, his thrusts growing sloppy.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” Yunho groaned.
“Already?” Hongjoong teased.
“I’ll see how long you last when you’re inside her,” Yunho retorted. “Fuckkk… let me know when she’s about to come.”
“I… can speak for myself, ahh…” you moaned and Hongjoong grinned. “Harder, Yunho.”
“Hear that?” Hongjoong looked at Yunho. “Do better. I’ll help…”
Yunho only grinned, thrusting harder just like you wanted. With Hongjoong’s fingers rubbing your clit with the right pressure in circles, you came almost violently, Yunho following soon after, your moans becoming one as Yunho collapsed over you, riding out his high.
Hongjoong caressed your head lovingly while Yunho removed himself, toppling to the side.
“You did so well, my queen,” Hongjoong said, moving. “But it’s my turn now–”
“Wait–”
“You know the word to stop me,” Hongjoong took a pillow and positioned it under your hips. Yunho’s cum was about to spill but he decided that he would lubricate his own cock with it before entering. Yunho groaned loudly.
“God, you’re a freak.”
“You look proud,” Hongjoong retorted, folding your legs to your chest and entering you in a swift motion, making you groan and plead loudly, but the pleasure… it overrode everything else.
“Now watch how I fuck her.”
Hongjoong moved in slow, deliberate motions at first, dragging his thrusts and making sure you were comfortable with the stretch in this new position. Once he heard your moans growing louder, he started to thrust harder.
One thing about Hongjoong was that he had immense restraint. He was going to make you come at least twice before giving in.
Yunho certainly helped with that. He cooed praises into your ears and switched between kissing you and teasing you. His fingers travelled along your chest, rubbing and squeezing everywhere. You cried in pleasure, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter until you begged Hongjoong to touch you. Once he had his thumb on your clit, you came almost immediately, almost as hard as with Yunho.
“Joong, love,” you pleaded as he rode your high, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Please, come.”
Hongjoong groaned. The last bit of his restraint vanished when Yunho wrapped his hands around the future king’s neck in a choking manner, playing with his air intake. Hongjoong came with a loud moan, filling you almost impossibly full, feeling the release drip and spill around you both.
He stayed inside for a few moments, pulling Yunho to kiss him, all the while Yunho’s hand remained on his neck. You felt Hongjoong growing hard again and you made him pull out, laughing at the absurdity of this all. Yunho took the matter into his own hands, fisting Hongjoong’s wet cock and thrusting it. Hongjoong did the same, trying to dominate–
“It’s not a battle, you guys, relax, fuck,” you groaned, your fingers going to your clit naturally. “I’m going to come again just watching you boys.”
The two groaned in response, fueled by your admission. Hongjoong came first, spilling all over Yunho’s chest and Yunho followed soon after, pushing Hongjoong on the bed and spilling his cum all over him, clenching his jaw as he moved on top of him.
“Joong,” he breathed, kissing him and pulling at his lower lip. “The things I could do to you.”
Hongjoong groaned, chuckling loudly, burying his face in Yunho’s shoulder. Yunho grinned, pulling the sheets and quickly cleaning himself and Hongjoong before pulling you closer and kissing you, tangling himself between the both of you.
“I love you both,” Yunho admitted, his voice heavy with emotions. “Thank you for not leaving me alone.”
You and Hongjoong shared a look. Yunho never talked about how he had felt when he discovered that you and Hongjoong were also in love. He must have been so afraid of being left alone.
You cradled Yunho’s jaw. “You are the best thing that happened to me, Yunho.”
“To us,” Hongjoong added. “Thank you for making me a part of this. I… I don’t know what I would have done without you both. I love you both dearly, with all my heart.”
“Let’s always stay like this,” you and Hongjoong wrapped Yunho in a hug, tangling your hands with each other. “Together, the three of us. Always a team, no matter what happens, okay?”
“No matter what happens,” Hongjoong repeated.
Yunho felt incredibly full. He tucked you both in his arms and stayed like that for a long time. Then the men got up and cleaned you up, exchanging kisses and confessions while you slept with a smile on your face.
prince!yunho x princess!reader, prince!hongjoong x princess!reader
royal au
genres and warning: established relationship with yunho, strict restrictions regarding pre-marital relationships, slow burnnn, lots of angst and lots of fluff, cheating (kind of? i call it testing the waters (don't do this irl pls)), suggestive, mentions of violence and blood, etc.
word count: 30.8k
synopsis: you did not know that your heart could be split equally in two until you find yourself in a push-and-pull game with prince yunho of utopia-- your best friend, and prince hongjoong of utopia. you risk breaking the sacred tradition that prohibits pre-marital relationships and driving the princes apart who are closer than brothers. could you chose one of them over the other?
a/n: we are so (kinda) back! special thanks to @eightmakesonebraincell and @sungbeam for supporting me all the way through :')) no taglist this time bc the current one was old and had too many accounts to tag, i'll prob release a new one or ditch the idea entirely.
The Kingdom of Wonderland always gets festive towards the end of the year.
The castle gets adorned with colours– in the flowers that line the walls, in the banners that wrap around the towers, and definitely in the ornaments made specifically in the celebration of the New Year’s approaching.
Then there is the food. The chefs and the bakers level up for the holidays. They bring out the most exquisite-looking desserts and spice up the savoury dishes. The aroma of the food seems to linger in the air permanently, providing a sense of warmth and comfort in the otherwise cold weather.
But the real festivity begins when one of the kingdoms in the continent hosts a year-end ball. It is not just a night for dance and games. It is a weeks-long celebration that involves welcoming the neighbours, making connections and sometimes, making matches. It is a time when everyone lets loose a little and takes great joy in the celebrations.
It is your favourite time of the year. This year, it feels special because your kingdom is hosting the year-end ball. As the princess of Wonderland, you are in top shape to welcome the guests.
This year, you did not mind when your attendings dragged you to the adornment chamber and worked on your skin until it was smooth as butter. They took great care of your hair, making it look luscious and healthy. They made you soak in warm water filled with petals that seemed to have flushed your skin permanently. Your cheeks were full of life and you were glowing.
You were ready to welcome Prince Yunho of Eden. Your best friend. Your greatest ally, and… the person you imagined a future with.
The creak of the gates opening and the distinct chimes of the bells reserved for Eden pleased your ears infinitely. You rushed to greet the guests, laughing when your handmaids held you back so they could fuss over your appearance one last time, making sure everything was in shape– your freshly curled hair tucked perfectly in a half bun, your deep purple gown unstained and flowy, your lips and cheeks dyed just right. After earning their approval, they accompanied you to the Great Hall.
Your parents, the King and the Queen, and your younger brother Prince Jeongin were already present. Your mother was a perfectionist and was still commanding the servants from her seat. Your father was currently chuckling at something Jeongin said. Your brother spotted you and muttered something like ‘finally!’ and made his way towards where you stood by the door.
“Excited?”
“Nervous,” you admitted. “I’m just glad the first guests are our friends and not one of those royalties that seem to have something stuck in their–”
“Language,” your younger brother reminded you. That was his way of letting you know that you need not finish the sentence. “Remember to stay proper, like mother always says, and not involve yourself in impropriety– like, mother! I’m only seventeen. I’m currently more invested in perfecting my horse-riding than catching someone’s eye. Odd, I know, from someone my age, but what can I even do if I like someone? Respect your traditions. Do you wonder if the other kingdoms think that we are the ones with something stuck in our–”
“Jeongin!” You laughed. “You’re rambling. Mother is right. We must respect our traditions and make sure we do not engage in improper behaviour– oh, here they come!”
Forget traditions. You were going to greet your best friend with the hug that he deserved. Since it was only your parents and your court in the room, you did not care for any judgement or criticism. As soon as you spotted your tall friend, you clutched the edges of your gown and made your way towards him.
When the prince spotted you, his lips spread in a wide grin and he basically hopped the rest of the way, laughing as he scooped you up. You could hear the laughter of your father and the stern voice of your mother scolding you, but you knew that they would dismiss it just this once. Yunho twirled you once before settling you down, and then he decided to greet you properly with a kiss on your knuckles.
“You look beautiful, Princess,” he said, kissing your hand again before letting it go. “And I missed you, dear friend.”
“I missed you too!” you sighed, scanning him. “You’ve changed.”
Yunho smiled in agreement. Oh, he had changed a great deal. His shoulders were much broader now and he seemed to have grown even taller since you last saw him some five months ago. His hair was also longer– a warm shade of deep brown tucked loosely back, threatening to cover his beautifully carved face.
“Let me greet the rest,” he said, a silent promise to be right back. You watched him hug Jeongin next and ask about his progress with horse-riding, but your attention went to the older prince– Prince Hongjoong.
If Yunho was the sun personified, Hongjoong was the moon. He was shorter, colder but with an incredible personality. Even though he was much more relaxed in his demeanour than the perfectionist that Yunho was, Hongjoong was sharper and had a natural talent for leadership and wit. He was not related to Yunho, but they were closer than brothers.
“Princess,” he greeted with a restrained smirk. “Miss me?”
“Hmm… not really,” you said and when he narrowed your eyes, you grinned. He relaxed instantly, ignoring your outstretched hand and instead kissing you on your temple as a greeting, followed by a forehead flick that had you scowling.
“Do you have to do this?” You complained as you rubbed the pain away. He ignored that, moving towards the end of the hall where your mother and father were seated. Yunho was still deep in discussion with Jeongin so you decided to let them be, following the older prince.
“You’ve grown even more handsome,” your mother complimented. Hongjoong humbly thanked her, asking about her health. He had always been closer to your mother, while Yunho was your father’s favourite. They claimed that they did not have favourites but to you, it was painfully obvious. It was also painfully confusing because naturewise, Yunho and your mother were much more similar, and Hongjoong and your father were.
You looked towards Hongjoong. He had definitely gotten more handsome. His kind of beauty was a deadly one– pulling you in, threatening to never let go. He was all sharp angles, carved with great detail. His hair was a lighter shade of brown than Yunho’s and also longer than it had ever been.
Hongjoong caught you staring and raised a brow. You shook your head and asked him to take a seat. Jeongin went to greet the older prince, apologising for not doing that earlier while Yunho went to greet your parents. Hongjoong only ruffled Jeongin’s hair and soon, they were deep in conversation.
Yunho took a seat towards your left shortly after, excited to hear about what he had missed since the last time that you met. You started to brief him– a little something that you always do with him. At some point, Hongjoong started to listen and comment too, and Jeongin would add little bits of his life.
Then the bells for the Kingdom of Mist rang and you all got up again to welcome Prince Wooyoung, another close friend of yours.
Just like that, the day got busy welcoming guests from all over the continent– princes and princesses that had grown up with you. You saw them all at least once a year, so you were all close to a certain degree. The princes were tightly knit and so were the princesses, though fewer in number as most of them had now been married off and had duties to perform in their new homes.
This year, you only had Princess Sieun of the Kingdom of Hala and Princess Minjeong of Ascella, and the two were fast friends being younger than you. There were the Choi brothers, the princes from The Kingdom of Kiji, and they were close to Wooyoung.
You did not mind. You had Yunho.
You and Yunho had always been attached by the hip. The Kingdoms of Wonderland and Eden were very close. Your father was good friends with Yunho’s father and Hongjoong’s father as well. Oftentimes, you ended up accompanying your father whenever he made trips to the kingdom next to yours.
You and Yunho became friends naturally. He was a great listener and he made you laugh. As children, you played a lot but at some point, you both became aware that you had grown up. Your friendship shifted, monitored by the adults, but you still remained close. After some time, the adult grew tired of monitoring too closely.
It was Yunho. He could win over anyone, and he was the most respectable and responsible person you knew.
“You look like you need a drink,” a voice called. You turned to find Hongjoong with a pair of whiskey glasses in his hands and you gladly took one, almost slumping in relief. “I saw you slowly crawling away from the princesses. Are you feeling left out?”
“Not left out,” you shook your head. “But… They're very different from me. I don’t get along as well as I do with you and Yunho, or Wooyoung, or the princesses that are no longer here.”
Hongjoong nodded in understanding, probably overwhelmed by the crowd too. If there was one department you both had common footing on, it was your social energy– or lack thereof. Or maybe, you both were the normal ones because Yunho hardly ever seemed to run out of energy. He was always the life in the room, surrounded by people. You liked it that way. You did not intend to dim his light.
You had Hongjoong to keep you company in the dark.
Hongjoong has always been a part of your life. Where there was Yunho, there was Hongjoong– sometimes near, sometimes at a distance, but an unwavering presence. He did not try to get between you and Yunho, but his presence was much appreciated by you both so he always kept close. He knew things about you that Yunho did not, just like Yunho knew parts of you that Hongjoong did not.
“You may not be here much longer as well,” Hongjoong reminded you. “Your mother seems to have decided that your time has come.”
“Well…” you took a sip of the whiskey, suddenly conscious of yourself. “I am of age. I intend to settle soon.”
“How lovely,” Hongjoong’s comment didn’t match his tone. “Got eyes on someone?”
You looked at Hongjoong. “Are you pretending that you do not know that Yunho and I are interested in each other?”
“I mean…” Hongjoong shrugged. “You two are awfully uptight about your traditions. To me, you still look like friends.”
“Those traditions are sacred, Joong,” you reminded the prince. “They are meant to preserve sanctity and reverence–”
“Yeah, yeah. No need to quote lines from school,” Hongjoong dismissed. “I’m just saying that maybe you both need to stop tiptoeing around those manmade rules and think for once.”
“What’s it to you?” You scoffed, grabbing a scone from the table and offering one to Hongjoong. He denied. “I’ll take my sweet time. I intend to respect and uphold these traditions. You know that very well.”
Hongjoong shook his head. “You haven’t changed one bit, dear.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smiled, taking a big bite. “That’s delicious.”
While you were busy observing the scone, Hongjoong was fixated on the little crumb near your lips. Almost casually, he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.
“Hongjoong!”
He rolled his eyes. “No one is going to hang me for making sure you don’t make a mess of yourself. Stop making a big deal out of it.”
“Whatever,” you tried to ignore how your heart rate casually went up. “I’m going to find Yunho. Come along– Wooyoung probably needs to eat someone’s ears off. He’s been at it with the Choi brothers. I’ll offer you as his next target before it’s my turn.”
Hongjoong looked appalled at the idea but he followed anyway. That was Wooyoung’s charm– he could talk for hours and you would enjoy it all the same. You, however, intended to find Yunho and free him from the hoards of guests.
The ghost of Hongjoong’s finger still remained on your lips, though. You caught your mother’s eye– had she seen that? Even if she had not, you would probably receive a reminder of what was at stake anyway.
Honour. A woman’s honour, specifically, which was more fragile than a man’s, but almost equally as reverent.
There were many names for the said tradition– never written in the books as the law, but regarded with the same importance. The Doctrine of Chaste Union. The Covenant of Purity. It sounded too complicated, but it was simple enough to understand.
A man and woman must not engage in improper, intimate or dishonourable behaviour. For a man and woman intending to marry, they must still uphold these etiquettes to protect the sanctity of the royal bloodline and dignity of the crown.
It was not just a tradition. The royal bloodline served as role models to its subjects. The people of the kingdom looked up to you, the princess. You were always under observation, and your behaviour and appearance was a reflection of your values and morals. Young girls strived to be like you. You could not let your subjects down. You had to be perfect and show them how to live as a proper woman and as a moral human being in this society.
The same rules applied to the princes. Yunho was perhaps the one doing justice to this tradition. He was a natural– he had the best etiquettes and he had perfected the balance between being friendly and open to being reserved and chaste. He respected the tradition as much as you.
He promised to pursue you the right way when he made his intentions clear at the year-end festivities last year. Since then, it had been a dream. He sends butterflies in your stomach with a mere look, makes your skin tingle with a mere touch and melts your heart with his words alone.
“Yunho!” You whispered when you got close and he lit up at the sight of you. Pardoning himself from the crowd, he squeezed your hand and you led him away from the crowd.
“Tired yet?” You asked.
“Fancy a retreat?”
“You read my mind,” you grinned and you both made way to the abandoned balcony attached to the old music room which was your hideout. Your handmaids were already stationed there, knowing that you liked to spend time there with Yunho. They were wholly aware of how Yunho would never compromise your honour so they let you both be alone on the condition that you keep the door slightly open to avoid a scandal.
Scandals spread like wildfire here. You understood their concerns.
Yunho traced his fingers across the dusty piano, creating music in the process. You fixed the lapels of his navy blue royal uniform.
“Did I ever tell you blue is your colour?”
“You told me white was the last time we met, but okay. I’ll pretend I forgot,” he grinned.
“You look good in everything. It’s unfair,” you pouted. Yunho pinched your cheeks, making you giggle.
“How come you get more adorable every time I see you? That’s unfair.”
“Me? Adorable?” You curled a strand of your hair deviously between your fingers. “Don’t toot my horn, Yunho. I’ll be insufferable.”
Yunho leaned down, suddenly close to your face. “You know I love that side of you.”
You were positive your cheeks flushed. Yunho remained that way, scanning your face while you fixated on the freckles littering his face, illuminated by the moonlight and the candles. Oh, how you wished to trace them and draw constellations. His lips parted slightly, his gaze heavy.
“God, y/n. You’re beautiful.”
“Stop,” your pout deepened and he couldn’t resist to run the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, patting your cheek before straightening. You could tell he wished to do something about the pout but he had immense restraint, though his eyes held such raw yearning that it made you weak.
“We must stay proper,” you teased and he laughed, agreeing. He held your hands and kissed the back of your right hand.
“This much I can do,” he said.
“You can do more…”
Yunho broke into a smile. Giving in, he cupped your face and kissed your forehead– a tender, lingering kiss. Then a kiss on your temple, and a final innocent peck to the corner of your lips. You gasped, looking towards the door but you were unmonitored. “Jeong Yunho!”
“It’s been 5 months since I did that,” his voice was low. “I’m human too, love.”
“I know, but…” you bit your lips. “Step away from me before I compromise your honour.”
Yunho could barely keep from bursting into loud laughter. You joined and he reminded you of the time you made a similar threat. You continued to tease each other while recalling the memories, soft intimate touches passed between you two. A knock on the door alerted you to come out– it had been too long since you had disappeared inside.
You spent the rest of the night conversing with the other guests, but your eyes kept finding Yunho. Yet… you were wholly aware of Hongjoong the whole time as well.
Hongjoong was still a problem, it seemed. One that you could not put a name to, one that you could not ignore. One that occupied your last thoughts before sleep, even though your heart sang out to someone else.
The ball– the main event of the year-end festivities– was to take place two days after the arrival of the guests, allowing them a period of rest. However, for most of the princes and princesses, time was short and they intended to make the most of it.
That meant that you spent basically every waking moment together. From breakfast in the Great Hall, unsupervised by the king and the queen so that you could all let loose a little, to lounging in the studies or music rooms, snacking endlessly while stressing about staying in shape for the dance, to the best part.
The late night chit chats.
“So I told Soojin that she needs to do something about that husband of hers,” Wooyoung announced as a matter-of-factly. “That man is too controlling, and while a wife is supposed to respect her husband, she is still a human first and foremost, and she has needs. The husband needs to respect his wife too.”
“Thank you,” you sighed in agreement, horrified to hear about how your best friend, Princess Soojin of Utopia, was already having trouble in her marriage. You had attended her wedding about 7 months ago. She had been married to a duke’s son in Mist so Wooyoung was well-aware of her relationship status. You were glad that Soojin had someone like Wooyoung at her side, at a time like this. You wished you could be there for her too.
“I warned her that her man is an arse, but she was charmed, and I don’t blame her,” Minjeong said. “That man is known for his talent in wooing ladies. He doesn’t care about the traditions much.”
“Why would Soojin marry someone like him?” Sieun wondered. As the youngest, she probably found the situation ridiculous.
“These relations are usually decided upon by the elders,” Yunho reminded gently. “As a princess, it would have been Soojin’s duty to obey an order from her parents.”
“She could have said no,” Hongjoong commented casually, eyes fixated on the book that he had picked up. He sat in the corner by the fire, slightly away from where the rest of you were crowded at the sofas. “But like Minjeong said, she must have fallen prey to his wooing. If she can bend the traditions, she could have certainly done a little more by saying no.”
“I suppose it’s tough for girls,” San, the elder prince of the Choi brothers, added. “I know how tough it was for our sister when it was her time.”
“I agree,” you said. “If you grow up learning how important it is to respect your customs and traditions, it’s hard to do anything otherwise,” you intentionally stared at Hongjoong. He looked up from his book and matched your stare. “Wonder how you can say these things so easily.”
“It’s because these traditions are not law. They are manmade in the end, made by senile old men,” Jongho concluded and Hongjoong sent him a grateful smile. Even though Jongho was the most reserved person you knew, he was like Hongjoong in the sense that no tradition or law would hold him back from doing what he thought was right. “Some practices should change with time. You’re telling me that us sitting and conversing like this might be considered improper just because the sun has set? What’s the sun got to do with anything?”
“Real men sin in the daylight!” San said loudly and jokingly and Wooyoung clapped, unable to contain his laugh. Soon, the conversation took a humorous turn, almost becoming a finger-pointing session.
One by one, the princes and princesses said their farewell for the night. The ball was tomorrow night and some needed to catch up on sleep while the others still had to worry about matching this year’s theme of masquerade. It must have been around 10 when you were left with Yunho and Hongjoong.
You were discussing your mask designs with Yunho, but you could see from the corner of your eye that Hongjoong had stopped reading and was watching the two of you. Yunho was perhaps unaware of his gaze and he continued to tell you about the last masquerade ball that he attended in some other kingdom. While he recalled his adventures there, you mustered up courage to look at Hongjoong questioningly.
Except he wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. He acted as if you were the one making him uncomfortable, refusing to look away.
“Ah, there you both go again,” Yunho commented, looking between you two. He shook his head in amusement. “What’s wrong this time?”
“He’s staring,” you pointed.
“She’s staring. I didn’t start it.”
“Hongjoong, you were literally looking at me like this–” you mimicked his facial expressions and Yunho curled inwards as he laughed silently. “What was I supposed to do when you looked like I killed your cat?”
“I must have zoned out!” Hongjoong’s voice raised slightly. “So technically, I didn’t start it. You did. You could have waved at me and I would have broken out of my trance and went to my book. Instead, you had to–”
This time, Hongjoong mimicked you and Yunho stifled his laugh only because you looked at him in warning, daring him to make a sound. Yunho pretended to zip his lips, thoroughly enjoying the banter. As usual.
While Hongjoong complained to Yunho about your behaviour, you smiled to yourself as you recalled a memory from a couple of years ago.
“You tend to stare into the distance a lot,” You commented when you found Hongjoong’s eyes fixed at the reflection of the moon in his garden’s pond. “Why do you do that?”
“Sometimes, I find something beautiful. I look at it and get lost thinking about it,” Hongjoong admitted. Yunho, who was sitting nearby, tossed a pebble into the pond, making the moon’s reflection ripple. “See? Still beautiful.”
“You do that to people too, though,” you had noticed. “Sometimes, I catch you staring at me, but you’re not staring– you just zone out.”
“I must find you beautiful then,” Hongjoong thought, and instantly pretended to choke on his words, making Yunho laugh. You folded your arms in horror.
“Kim Hongjoong! That is very rude!”
“I jest, my dear,” Hongjoong grinned. “You are a beautiful little thing, but only when you shut that mouth.”
“Oh,” Yunho gasped scandalously. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“I can’t tell,” you were devastated.
“I’ll let you ponder over it,” Hongjoong said.
“Look at her!” Hongjoong’s loud voice pulled you out of your trance. “Now she’s zoning out, smiling like that. It looks weird!”
“That’s exactly how it felt to me,” you cried out, sinking further down into the sofa.
Did Hongjoong really find you beautiful?
You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought and asked, “What are your plans for the masquerade, Joong?”
“Well…” the elder prince folded his arms. “The usual, I suppose. Stick to the corner and hover like a bat, praying no one notices me.”
“But you’re an incredible dancer– not better than Yunho, of course,” you said and Yunho straightened proudly. “But you have a way with your dances. I just know that the girls would love to have a dance with you. Are you planning to let them down?”
“Of course I am,” Hongjoong looked appalled at the idea. “You know how much I despise it.”
It wasn’t dancing or the girls he despised. It was the watchful eyes of the adults that irked him to death. Slightly wrong hand placement would earn him an earful, so he would rather not dance at all.
“Well, good thing that this ball is a masquerade. I hope your mask does well hiding your identity.”
“Ah… I forgot…” Hongjoong relaxed, his scheming face on. “I suppose I could have a little fun then. I’m going to make sure the elders have enough gossip to last them the entire year.”
“Hongjoong!” This time, Yunho was the one calling his friend out. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
“Stupid? Me?” Hongjoong looked at you deviously. “Never.”
“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” you declared and Yunho agreed. “What do you plan to do, Yunho? Monitor Joong like the elders? Or are you gonna let loose?”
“One of us letting loose is enough,” Yunho sighed. “I’ll do the monitoring.”
“Don’t let it take the fun out of the night, though. I expect to be exhausted to death dancing tomorrow night, and I expect that I will be able to blame you for that.”
“Ah, of course,” Yunho gleamed. “You bet.”
That was a challenge, and Yunho was a man of his word. You knew this was coming, so you had prepared your best heels for the night– black to match the gems on your emerald gown, comfortable enough to give the entire tour of the premises in them.
Your mask covered everything except the area around your lips and your chin. Your lashes peeked through the black net borders of the mask and paired with the earthy tones of your lips, it left a deep impression. You did not want to be recognised tonight. You simply wanted to have fun.
Your guards accompanied you to the ballroom before the guests arrived. You made sure that everything was in place– the tables lining the walls of the ballroom decorated with refreshments and drinks, the musicians at the corner of the room ready, and guards at the entrance to confirm everyone’s identity. Since this was a masquerade, there was a chance of an intruder sneaking in. It wouldn’t be new, for the year-end parties were susceptible to attacks. It was the perfect opportunity to strike multiple birds with one stone.
The guests were starting to arrive, filling the ballroom slowly. They stuck to their partners or if they recognised each other, they formed groups, admiring each other’s outfits for the night. You did not greet anyone just yet– you would surprise them later.
The King and the Queen arrived next, taking their place at the second level of the ballroom so that they could peer down. From their spot, the entire ballroom was in their vision and they could monitor anyone they wanted to. You hoped that instead of watching you, they would simply gossip and have fun. Coming up with an idea, you found the court members and asked them to keep your mother and father entertained. That translated to sending the dukes and marquesses and anyone of importance in their direction. Hopefully they would keep them busy enough for you to disappear out of their sight.
For a second, you paused. Why did you wish to remain unmonitored tonight? All that was happening tonight was dances and good conversation. You would be dancing with Yunho mostly, and he was the most gentlemanly. Even if your mother would be watching you, she wouldn’t find any reason to reprimand you. Yunho wouldn’t let that happen.
Was it just because your mother was too watchful? You knew your limits. She was wholly aware that you respected the sacred tradition very much and you never engaged in improper behaviour. You did not wish to cross any boundaries with Yunho– he was someone who deeply respected this tradition too. He liked you, and he would wait for you. You could do the same.
At that moment, your attention was caught by a man in all-black outfit. Hongjoong. It had to be him. You would recognise that relaxed gait anywhere. Besides, his mask hardly concealed his elfish features.
Hongjoong’s eyes found you in a matter of seconds and he started to walk towards you. You looked behind you and with a startle, you realised that he had recognised you. From so far away.
“Planning to hide for the entirety of the event?” Hongjoong asked, grabbing a cherry from the waiter that zoomed past you.
“Am I very recognisable despite the mask?” You drew it lower on your face.
“Not sure. Tell me who to avoid tonight.”
“Hmm…” you folded your arms and stood next to him, eyes scanning the crowd. “The duke’s niece– the one in orange next to the tall man. She’s aiming to score a prince and while that is not a bad thing, I’m sure you’ll only break her heart before she even gets to try. Then there’s the count’s daughter, next to the piano in that pink dress. Oh, that dress is so pretty… anyways, she is talkative and I know you don’t really like that.”
“You’re the most talkative person I know,” Hongjoong commented.
“Yes, but I’m me. You’ve known me since we were kids, so it doesn’t count. Besides, we’re not pursuing each other romantically, so even if you tell me that I’m talkative, I wouldn’t care.”
“And if Yunho tells you that you talk too much?”
“He would never,” you gasped at his audacity. “Where is he anyway?”
“Stressing about one thing or another, I suppose. I think it was his shoes this time…”
“Isn’t that usually your job? You arrived earlier than usual tonight.”
“Fashionably late only when I’m not hiding behind a mask,” Hongjoong winked. “No one cares tonight.”
“I do,” you said and he looked at you. “I mean… you’re talking too much. You should have taken some more time fixing your hair or whatever keeps you in your room for so long.”
“I’m talking too much?” Hongjoong shook his head. “There comes your prince.”
“Ah, how handsome,” you said dreamily at the sight of your tall prince dressed in all white with accents of gold. “Did you both do black and white on purpose?”
“Purely coincidental.”
“It suits you,” you said and Hongjoong could tell that you meant it. You ran your gaze over him slowly. “The black… it suits you very much, Joong.”
Hongjoong’s mouth suddenly felt dry. He opened his mouth to thank you, but decided against it.
You only smiled, waiting for Yunho to spot you. However, his eyes ran past you and he continued to look around as if waiting for you to spot him. For a second, you found it funny that he missed you until you recalled that Hongjoong had spotted you from even further.
Naturally, you turned to Hongjoong. Unbelievable, you thought, that he had pinned you from so far away while Yunho was still struggling to find you. As if Hongjoong had read your mind, his eyes grew just a little wide.
You looked away, waiting, praying for Yunho to recognise you. It wasn’t until he walked a few steps in your direction that he almost looked past you and did a double-take. Did he recognise you, or did he recognise Hongjoong first? You would not dare to ask.
“Princess!” He sprinted towards you, grinning in apology. “Apologies for my tardiness.”
“Forget that. You were having trouble finding me,” you decided to address the elephant between you and Hongjoong.
“Apologies for that too, I was still in panic mode. I was stopped three times for chit-chat before I made it here, and I thought that you would be mad that I’m late…” Yunho extended his hand and you placed your hand in his, rolling your eyes. He kissed your knuckles softly.
“Apologies accepted.”
Yunho grinned, turning towards Hongjoong. “Looking for a partner tonight?”
“No thanks,” he muttered. “My partner is cherries and whiskey.”
“Come, now,” Yunho said. “At least participate in the main dance.”
“You must, or else mother will be cross,” you pointed at the Queen, finding her already looking at you. She waved at the three of you and the princes bowed in respect. “She’s going to be watching us all night.”
“And I can’t disappoint her,” Hongjoong groaned. “Fine. Just the main dance, and then you both let me hover in a corner. Don’t stop having fun on my account.”
“Deal,” Yunho said. “Now… shall we dance?”
You grinned and took his hand, letting him steer you to the dance floor. The music playing right now was a playful beat, meant to make the participants let loose and do their warm-ups before the highlight.
The highlight was a circular formation dance. Initially, everyone is paired with their partner for the night, but the dance lasts almost half an hour, sometimes more. The duration depends on the number of pairs so that every pairing gets equal time. Each person takes turns switching their partners.
You and Yunho practised for the highlight just like everyone else. The dance seemed to be ingrained into Yunho and it came very naturally to him. He reminded you of how to manage your steps if paired with someone as tall as him, or with someone shorter. A slight difference in your movements could make your dance appear more graceful.
“You look stunning tonight, by the way,” Yunho told you. “The emerald dress…”
“Do you remember?” You asked. He nodded, his eyes glazed with fondness.
It was a memory from the last time you met. You and Yunho sneaked out with just your handmaid and a guard and took to the markets under a disguise. You went to a fabrics shop and tested so many colours that you lost count. However, it was the emerald that had Yunho look like a lovesick puppy.
“It makes me want to confess again,” Yunho referred to that memory. “Remind you that I can’t take my eyes off you, no matter where we are or what we are doing. I adore you, y/n. You’re my best friend and I’m absolutely honoured that you are giving me a chance.”
Similar to the confession he made that time. His words were molten honey and they sent warmth coursing throughout your entire body.
“I could say the same,” you said. “I… I really can’t imagine a life without you, Yunho. Don’t you ever leave me.”
“Never,” he promised, sealing it with a kiss on top of your head. “Even if you decide, for some reason, that you cannot take me as yours… I’ll always be your friend.”
“That won’t happen. Whatever reason would I ever have to reject you? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Thank you,” Yunho sounded genuine. “I wish I could sink to my knees and propose to you right now, but you know why I have to wait. My intentions are sincere, though.”
“Yunho!” You scolded, smacking his chest. “I have only one complaint and it is that you talk as if your words don’t have an effect on me!”
Yunho laughed almost sadistically. He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I do enjoy it when you get riled up.”
“Mother’s watching,” you warned. He grinned in response. “But to address your reasons, I’m aware. Neither you nor Hongjoong can announce an engagement before the matter of the crown is sorted.”
“Our fathers are working it out. It’s not everyday you have a kingdom where two kings have ruled and produced heirs to the throne.”
“And it’s certainly not everyday that they share such deep love and respect for each other that they are willing to give up the crown to the other,” you sighed happily. “People go as far as killing blood, yet here you are.”
“Here we are,” Yunho’s eyes scanned the crowd, finding Hongjoong and sharing a nod. “The elder prince willing to give up the crown to the younger if he proves himself worthy, and the younger prince refusing to take it.”
“Even though he is worthy,” you added. “You’re both equally worthy of the crown. I pray every night that your love for each other never wavers.”
Yunho nodded. He prayed the same.
The music started to change to a deeper, more melodic tune, signalling the young royals and everyone of importance to move and take formation. Yunho led you to your position and you stood by his side, waiting for the rest to join you.
From here, it was easy to spot each other. Wooyoung was dashing in red, paired with the talkative daughter of the count that you had mentioned to Hongjoong earlier. Jongho and Sieun seemed to have picked each other for the dance. Minjeong was paired with the duke’s youngest son. San was with someone you couldn't recognise. You scanned the pairs one by one until you found Hongjoong and almost sighed in relief.
He stood right across you, paired with the duke’s daughter, his hand holding hers. A wave of something hot struck you in the chest, threatening to suffocate you, but before you could deal with it, the music changed and Yunho squeezed your hand. “It’s time.”
You nodded and rested your hand on Yunho’s shoulder, the other clasped in his. His hand rested on your waist, steady and warm. You decided to address your feelings later and simply enjoy the dance.
And how could you not, when Yunho’s eyes dripped with love? He did not need to look around to make sure that he did not bump into anyone else– he was effortless with his moves, his attention solely devoted to you.
Your smile widened and you returned his gaze. From Yunho, you did not shy away. Not when his love was so innocent. Not when it came so naturally.
You continued to twirl in his hold, rotate and dip slightly, a performance worthy of the grandiose in which it was taking place. The masks must make the performance even better to the audience– the push and pull between the pairs, the moves when your faces were so close that they almost touched. The masks added a layer of excitement and curiosity.
And when Yunho drew close, although he was taller, he leaned down. He leaned just a bit so that his lips would brush against your ears, sending shivers down your spine. You giggled and he joined, letting you know that it was intentional.
He was sweet like that, only daring to tease occasionally, but when he did tease, oh, he could be a menace. The next brush of his lips was more than that. It was a kiss. You gasped and Yunho winked. “Act normal, love.”
“What’s got you all playful tonight?” You questioned. “In front of all these eyes!”
“Just a token of my love before I part with you,” Yunho said and before you could respond, he let go of your hand and you got pulled in by your next partner.
“Ah, here you are,” Wooyoung gleamed. “You look pretty tonight.”
“Thank you, I love your outfit!” You said while matching his steps. “Red is a daring choice.”
“And no one but me would take it,” he looked proud. “What do you think about my eyes?”
“Oh!” You laughed when you realised that he was wearing makeup and it was not just a shadow casted on his eyelids. “That is a brave choice and a very sensible one.”
Wooyoung agreed. He continued to tell you about his process regarding his costume and you shared yours. Just like that, you got shifted to the next partner who was a stranger. You exchanged pleasantries and danced silently. San had much to share and you both talked the whole time– gossip, or intel that he had gathered during his recent stay in Mist.
It took another partner before you got sent into Hongjoong’s arms. He moved with a fluidity that you were eager to match and once you both synced, you relaxed.
“Enjoying the night?” He asked.
“Very much,” you admitted. “How about you?”
“It’s not bad,” he admitted. You nodded– that was certainly acknowledgement from him. He twirled you once and smoothly had you in his arms again, making you smile.
“How do you and Yunho both dance so incredibly well?” You asked.
“That’s what happens when you are bored and decide to partner with each other,” Hongjoong said and you held back a laugh. His gaze shifted to your right and you hummed in confusion.
“You’ve got a loose curl,” Hongjoong said. “Mind if I fix that?”
“Can you?” You asked.
You had to pay attention to the dance to make sure you made no mistake, but to Hongjoong, dance was something he could do with his eyes closed. He didn’t answer you. He simply inserted the curl inside one of the pins with deft fingers and then tucked some hair behind your ear.
Then his eyes found yours, and he rested his hand on your shoulder. Slowly, painfully slow so that perhaps, it would go unnoticed, he slid his hand down your bare arm. When his hand found purchase back on the dip of your waist, you could not decide if you wished to complain about the lack of touch on your bare skin or thank him for bringing his hand back to your waist, the absence of which had left your skin feeling hollow despite the lack of touch.
“Comfortable?” Hongjoong asked. You nodded.
His hand slid upwards just a fraction. His thumb caressed the fabric of the dress, sending a hot trail of fire in its wake until it paused dangerously close to the curve of your breast.
“Now?” He asked, voice lower than before.
“I… I’m good,” you assured him.
You were comfortable, yes, but you were not good. Yunho’s hands were big enough to assume the same position and that had sent butterflies in your stomach. However, Hongjoong’s intentional placement set your skin on fire. Whenever you pulled away from each other, his hands would find their place back exactly there, never missing. His gaze was heavy as if he had too much to drink. When he moved closer to assume the intimate dance position, his lips parted and face dipped as if he wanted to capture something between his lips, yet…
Yet he refused to let his lips touch you. Somehow, that vexed you, and then you were wondering again of the reasons behind such feelings.
When he pulled you close, his hand squeezed the skin on your waist. Your breath hitched and his nose brushed with yours in the slightest. Before any of you could make another move or address the ones already made, you were changing partners.
It wasn’t until you were back to Yunho for the final bit that you stopped thinking about the way your heads had tilted to accommodate each other for something more, something dangerous, right before you had to switch partners.
Though Yunho kept you thoroughly entertained throughout the rest of the event, one thing was clear.
There was something between you and Hongjoong. Something electric, dangerous but real.
You could not stay away from each other. You had never been able to. Hongjoong always found you, and you always found him. You could not stop testing boundaries– touching each other casually until it was not very casual, just like he had tonight at the dance. Just like you let him kiss you on the cheek or on your temple whenever he wanted without complaining.
The thing was that what you and Yunho had was just as real, if not more. You were positive that your love for Yunho was a romantic one. You yearned to hold him, touch him without any watchful eyes, and kiss him stupid. You wished to spend the rest of your life in his arms– that is the idea that you fell asleep to every night. Your restraint and his was simply out of respect for each other, but that did not mean that you did not love each other. You loved him.
So then what was it that you felt for Hongjoong? You loved him as a friend, just like you loved the rest of your friends– no, you definitely loved him more than the rest of your friends. However… did your love change shape at some point? When did that happen?
Was it the time he found you crying alone and wiped your tears? Was it because he always found you when Yunho got stolen away so that you were never alone? Was it when he told you that you were beautiful, as if he had every right to use that word for you?
So many memories that you had made with him, yet you were unable to pinpoint a single one that could hint at the beginning of this shift.
Did Hongjoong feel as restless as you, or was this all in your head?
Since the main event of the year-end festivities was over, you were back to prioritising your royal duties before any recreational activities, though you still made time for horse-riding yesterday and archery in the morning. The guests would be here for another two weeks so you supposed you could spare some time later.
For now, you needed to address the security concerns arising because of the trade-conflict between Wonderland and Neverland. There was also the matter of Neverland’s refusal to join this year’s celebrations– was it because they were hosted at Wonderland? Were they trying to make an enemy out of your kingdom?
The trade-conflict has been going on for about 6 months now. Since the only way to reach Neverland was a sea route and the storms had been deadly this season, the sailors from Wonderland were being cautious or refusing to make this journey. The King allowed reprieve but Neverland sent a message, clearly angry about the delay and refusing to understand your reasons.
Not joining this year was a clear message, but they were also refusing to break the trade contract since it was the easiest to get their cotton from Wonderland. For Wonderland, they could make a land route to Kiji to make up for their machinery that they otherwise got from Neverland,, even though it would be of a lower quality, but Neverland seemed to have no other choice.
You wouldn’t be surprised if Neverland took a big, wrong step. This morning, the guards had arrested bandits trying to enter the grounds. The bandits were claiming to be from Neverland. It would only be a matter of time before a more deadly group made an attack.
Was it wise for Wonderland to send the guests back at a time like this? They were safer inside. What if they got compromised during their journey? Wonderland would not be able to recover from such a damage.
However, if someone got attacked inside the castle, that would be equally as worse, if not more. You were getting exhausted but you had to share your input tonight.
A knock sounded and Yunho entered the study, dressed in a casual outfit of black slacks and white shirt. He waved and you straightened, failing to stifle a yawn. You stretched your arms and Yunho laughed, coming behind your chair and massaging your shoulders.
“You’ve been holed up here all afternoon,” Yunho said. “Anything I can help with?”
“Hmmm… security concerns, mainly,” you offered, wondering if it would be wise to share with him. Yunho was one of the best strategists of your time.
“Neverland?” Yunho guessed. You looked up at him but he shrugged. “They didn’t attend. I think it’s obvious why.”
“Take a seat,” you said and he brought his chair near you so that you could show him the map. “We wish to be prepared in case of an attack. Bandits were arrested this morning, claiming to be trade workers from Neverland who were running low on money. We’ve stationed more guards here,” you pointed at the wall nearest to the guest chambers, “and strengthened security near the forest.”
Yunho nodded. “I suppose you could station more guards inside too, near the chambers.”
“It might worry the guests.”
“Better safe than sorry. You can make up an excuse about being careful, but it’s better not to compromise their security.”
“Do you think it’s better if the guests leave?” You relaxed back in your chair and asked. “I’m worried about the guests exiting Wonderland safely, but I’m also worried about an attack inside the grounds. What if they wish to leave but we cannot let them go? The conflict will blow up.”
Yunho folded his arms, thinking for a few moments. “Do you suppose you could arrange more recreational activities? Something to keep the guests engaged until a clear, safe route is arranged for their departure?”
“I reckon we could,” you agreed. “We just have to make sure the guests are not bored, right?”
“Yes,” Yunho said. “In case someone has to leave early, have the royal guards create a distraction. They could pretend to accompany someone of importance while the actual guest leaves casually through a busy route. A busy, slightly unsafe route is better than a safe but empty route.”
“True,” you clapped. “Jeong Yunho. You’re brilliant.”
Yunho’s lips drooped in a shy smile. “Come on. I’m sure you would have come up with it too.”
“Yeah, after another all-nighter,” you laughed. “What are the rest up to?”
“Hongjoong is holed up in his room too. I think he came up with a few designs and he really wanted to note them down,” Yunho said. “The rest are in the garden having tea and playing ball.”
“It’s been a while since I heard of his hobby,” you referred to Hongjoong. “Does he still do that?”
“Not very often, but when he does, it’s great work. He must have been inspired after seeing all the fancy gowns and suits at the ball.”
You nodded. “And you? Missing me?”
“Very much so,” Yunho leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and looking at you lovingly. “I wanted to… talk.”
“Go ahead,” you said, mirroring his position.
“You’re aware that I wish to marry you,” he began and you nodded. “And that I’m only delaying because I cannot bring you into the current political mess at my place. You should not have to deal with it.”
“Yunho,” you placed your hand on his arm. “I can deal with anything as long as I am with you.”
“I wish to make you my wife,” Yunho’s voice was low and sweet, his eyes dripping with love. “But I also want it to be clear if you would be just a princess for the rest of your life or a queen in the future. You deserve to make our choice after factoring that.”
“I do not care if you are a prince, a king or exiled,” you said and Yunho narrowed his eyes, the two of you sharing a laugh. “I only need you by my side. My status doesn’t matter. Being a princess… it’s not all that. Being a queen of a nation… it’s a job that demands the utmost perfection and I’m scared of that title.”
“But you would be so perfect, my love,” Yunho squeezed your hand. “You deserve to be a queen more than anyone else.”
“Thank you,” you meant it. “I don’t mind waiting. My parents are not pressuring me about marriage right now. They know that we wish to be together, and they would also rather wait until the situation is clear, so stop apologising for making me wait. Every moment that I wait makes our time together even more beautiful.”
Yunho smiled warmly at that, kissing your palm and lingering there. “You’re perfect. My family, and Hongjoong’s… we can’t wait to have you with us.”
Your smile must have fallen just a bit, but Yunho was a very sensitive person. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all,” you said but Yunho shook his head.
“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Yunho scanned your face. “I would never judge you.”
“I know,” you assured. “I guess it’s just overwhelming. Hongjoong… has he ever addressed our relationship?”
“Well… he knows that we intend to marry,” Yunho took a deep breath. “We haven’t talked about you like that, though. He knows that I’m waiting for the situation to solve before I officially propose. He adores you, you know.”
“He does?”
“Of course he does,” Yunho said. “I thought it was clear?”
“I mean…” the weight of Yunho’s hand on yours was starting to feel heavy. “We usually just argue about this and that. Unserious arguments.”
“He’s always looking out for you,” Yunho smiled. “I know because I’ve seen him. His eyes always find you. I think he is very fond of you, y/n.”
“That’s… a relief, I suppose,” you laughed nervously. “How’s your mother? Is she okay with us?”
“More than okay,” Yunho grinned. “She’s your biggest fan.”
“That’s lovely,” you grinned and Yunho kissed your hand again, his gaze honey with a hint of darkness that you hadn’t seen before.
“What are you thinking?” You whispered.
“That I can’t wait to make you mine,” Yunho said in a low voice, sparing a glance at the slightly open door. “That I can’t wait to kiss those soft lips of yours.”
“Yunho!”
“Stop pouting,” he warned, “I’m just a man.”
“Well…” you cleared your throat, attempting to pull your hand away but he held on, his eyes stuck on your lips. “Jeong Yunho. Respect your traditions and stop looking at me as if you want to eat me alive.”
Yunho chuckled deeply. “Ah… the things I wish I could do to you. It’s a shame that I have to wait,” he said and got up, cupping your face and kissing your forehead. “Join us for dinner. Don’t skip your meals.”
“I’m too tired to socialise,” you pouted again and Yunho swiped his thumb over your lower lip, raising his brow in a warning. You immediately straightened, but a part of you was tempted to find if he would cross the line.
“Join me and Hongjoong then,” Yunho offered. “We’ll be in our chamber.”
“That… I can do,” you agreed. Yunho nodded, taking one final look at you, almost struggling to part from you but he did eventually, and you were left breathless from his mere gaze, wishing he could have done more.
Damn the traditions, a voice in your head said. You shook those thoughts away.
~
Accompanied by your guard and handmaid, you arrived at the guest chambers, hoping you would not run into anyone else. You really were tired tonight, but you could not reject Yunho’s offer to dine with him.
And Hongjoong. To dine with them both.
You could convince yourself that it was just because you wanted some time alone with your boys– it had been so long since the three of you had spent time together, and time together was always well-spent and memorable. You could convince yourself that it was for old times’ sake, but you could not deny that you wanted to see Hongjoong and really feel him out.
What Yunho had said about Hongjoong stuck with you. He adores you. His eyes always find you. You had not noticed that, no. Perhaps, you had been too busy looking at Yunho all this time to care for someone else.
But he is Hongjoong, your heart sang.
You still do not need to care about anyone else, your head retorted.
The guard knocked on their door and Yunho opened, welcoming you inside. Your handmaid entered with you, acting as your chaperone but she let you be, opting to rest in the study while the three of you dined in private. She would have company there with Yunho and Hongjoong’s maids and they would dine together.
“Let me call Hongjoong– he refuses to come out of his room,” Yunho said apologetically and you shook your head. The table was set so you took a seat, waiting.
It looked like it took some convincing for Hongjoong to finally come out. Your eyes slightly widened at his appearance– buttons of his shirt undone revealing his finely toned chest, hair a mess and sticking in every direction and eyes tired.
“How many meals have you missed?” You asked, filling a plate for him and making sure it was without vegetables– he really wasn’t a fan of them.
“Just… lunch. And breakfast. I did eat an apple, though… I think?”
Yunho looked at you helplessly and you motioned for him to take a seat too. You passed Hongjoong his plate and ordered him to eat. He shot you a glare.
“I’m working on something, and it is imperative that I finish before I lose my thought train,” Hongjoong said, the fork in his hand hovering mid-air. “I don’t have the luxury to dine and chat right now.”
“Then eat and leave,” you simply said. “I won’t disturb you.”
Yunho chuckled at the interaction, realising that you were right– you both really did argue a lot. He served you some more baked potatoes and started coming up with recreational activities for the next week. You left Hongjoong to eat in silence but it was clear that he didn’t mind the company while he ate, even though he wasn’t contributing.
His presence was enough for you both.
Yunho had almost finished his meal when a guard knocked on the door and let him know that the King wished to discuss some matter regarding his father. Yunho looked at you, apologising for leaving when he himself had invited you.
“It’s okay, you should go. I know father has been wanting to talk,” you said. “I’ll finish and leave.”
“Make sure Hongjoong stops playing with his food too, please,” Yunho said and Hongjoong scowled at the younger prince, making him chuckle as he left.
Then it was just the two of you. Unchaperoned. You could feel heat rush to your cheeks but you managed to finish the rest of your meal in silence. Hongjoong was slower, though, deep in thought.
“Hongjoong,” you called softly. “I think you should rest. You look tired.”
“No, I’m fine,” he insisted, speeding up a little. “Just visualising some details so I don’t lose them.”
“Can I ask what you’re working on?”
Hongjoong looked at you. There you were– the same curious little child that used to sneak up on him and watch him draw in silence, sometimes so silent that you would scare him. He smiled.
“Just some gowns,” he said, wondering what to say next. “Playing with colours and fabric.”
“Can I see?”
Could Hongjoong say no when you asked so sweetly? “I suppose you could… but only what I allow you to,” he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare try to get sneaky.”
“Won’t promise,” you grinned. “You know how curious I can get. Come on, since when do you hide your designs from me?”
“I can do whatever I want,” Hongjoong finished his meal. “Gotta teach you that curiosity can kill the cat.”
“But satisfaction brings it back,” you grinned, following him to his room.
“Good lord,” you looked around. There was fabric and pages everywhere, no place to step without crushing something. “Can I at least sort this mess?”
“Do not touch anything,” Hongjoong scolded, almost tripping as he hopped towards the desk. “I know where everything is.”
“But Joong,” you cried out. “If I organise it, it will be easier and less time consuming for you to reach for a fabric or for the stones. You know I’m good at it.”
“I know, but I can manage–”
“Shut up and get to work,” you folded your arms. “I’ll take care of this.”
Hongjoong immediately straightened, internally scared of your raging need for organisation. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good.”
Hongjoong watched you for a bit but eventually decided to resume working on his designs. You were as silent as you could be, occasionally calling to tell him your organisation method and where to reach to grab something. The fabrics were stacked in rows, the pages all spread on his bed and finally, it was time to collect the pearls and beads that were scattered across the room.
When you were done collecting them in little boxes, you set them on his desk. He didn’t look up, currently bent over his diary and drawing something. You perched yourself on his desk, trying to sneak a peek.
When he was done, he relaxed back, almost jumping in his chair when he spotted you. “Goodness. Can’t you make some noise?”
“I was breathing,” you said. “I assumed that would be loud enough for you… hey, that looks like the gown I wore to the ball.”
“It is,” he admitted. “I’m altering it. I thought that a different shade of green would compliment your skin tone more, and if we added some pearls and net details…”
Hongjoong continued to ramble, going about how he also took inspiration from Minjeong’s dress. While he talked, you grabbed his diary and started to go through it.
Sketches upon sketches of the most beautifully designed dresses, often with fabrics and beads glued or sewn into the thick pages for reference. However, the model or the muse seemed to be the same, no matter what. It always featured the same curls that you often wore, or the little scar on your back–
Hongjoong stopped talking. “I told you not to go through it.”
You looked at him. “You still remember this scar?”
Hongjoong remained silent. You were both thinking about the same memory from about two years ago in Eden when you had all gone hunting and you had gotten lost when you couldn’t find your way back to the rest due to heavy rain. Hongjoong had managed to find you, but the storm got worse so you both took refuge inside a cave.
Since it was incredibly cold and you were drenched and shivering, Hongjoong could only offer his arms as a relief. You sat wedged between his legs, embraced by him. He rested his head on top of yours, murmuring about how relieved he was that you were safe. You clung to his arms, both scared and relieved.
Your dress was torn a little at your upper back when a branch got stuck in your clothes. Hongjoong spotted the fresh wound then, the shape of a bow. He asked you about it and through chattering teeth you told him that you must have received this when you fell tumbling down a path a few moments before he found you. You thought you felt Hongjoong’s fingertip trace the wound but you didn’t say anything. You only shut your eyes, waiting for the storm to subside so you could go back.
A part of you had wished that the storm did not subside so soon, so that you could feel his strong arms embrace you for a little longer, so that he could continue to touch your skin with his fingers, so that he would continue to murmur sweet nothings into your ear.
It seemed like he had not forgotten that memory. Whenever he sketched your back in his diary, the scar made a feature too.
“Am I your muse, Kim Hongjoong?” You tilted your head. He looked up at you, the moonlight casting shadows under his cheekbones.
“Maybe you are,” he said almost casually. “Do you mind?”
“I don’t think so…” you admitted, taking a deep breath. “As long as I get to wear one of your designs someday.”
“A wedding dress… can I design your wedding gown, my dear?”
You frowned. While the thought of him designing your wedding dress was extremely enticing, some other thoughts were plaguing your mind. “Do you wish to see me as a bride that badly?”
“I… I wish to see you as a bride, yes,” Hongjoong leaned forward. “I imagine you as a bride, dressed in the softest shade of white that you can get in the highest quality of silk that we have in Eden– one that glimmers under the sun.”
Hongjoong stood up, scanning your body. You suddenly felt exposed but you didn’t move.
“I imagine pearls as your complementary choice of jewellery. The pearls from Neverland– they have this distinct shade of blue to them that would go very well with your undertones. I imagine the pearls to be a part of the dress– here,” he pressed his thumb against your collarbone without hesitation, a designer and not a prince right now. “A neckline that exposes your collarbones and shoulders, since you have a beautiful shoulder cut. The dress would hug your bodice but I suppose we could make the back deeper. Would you mind exposing your scar?”
“I– I don’t know,” you admitted, too distracted by his fingertips against your sternum right now.
“I suppose we could adjust the back depending on that. A dip of your neckline here, and then…” he traced his hands against your thighs. “The fabric would hug your curves beautifully and modestly, just like you prefer. I suppose it could be more flowy towards the knees,” he continued to trace his hand down all the way to your ankles and you gasped when his hands made contact with your bare ankles. “I think a pearl outline to the first layer of the dress would look heavenly. Paired with your pearl jewellery and the pearl-embedded crown of Eden, a net veil with zircons scattered over it…
“Y/n, you would make the most beautiful bride,” Hongjoong finished, breathing and finally realising that he was holding your ankles. With you perched on the desk, he was almost eye-level and you could see his pupils dilate.
“You would design such a beautiful gown for my wedding? I’m not your bride,” you reminded him.
“It would both be the greatest honour,” he whispered, tracing your cheekbone, looking as if he was drugged. “And the cruelest punishment for me.”
“Cruelest punishment?” You echoed. “Do you hate me?”
“Hate?” Hongjoong’s brows furrowed. “Do you think that I could ever hate you?”
“Then what is this, Hongjoong?” You clasped his hand, gulping but letting it remain there so he could cradle your jaw. “What are you doing when you clearly know that I’m basically betrothed to Yunho?”
“You’re right,” Hongjoong sighed, trying to bring himself out of this trance. “I respect Yunho a lot. I would never do something to disappoint him and risk our friendship. I respect you too, y/n. I…” he pulled his hand away from your face but you held on, making sure not to let him go. You wanted him to finish saying whatever he was thinking. “I respect the fact that you both value your traditions but good heavens, dear. If it were up to me, I would…”
“Say it,” you commanded after a few moments of silence. You simply could not take the look in his eyes anymore.
Hongjoong shook his head, attempting to pull his hand but you grabbed his other hand too, pulling him towards you. Closer. So close that you could feel his breath caress your face.
“I’m not so innocent even though I practise restraint, so say whatever you are thinking. Forget about Yunho for a moment.”
Hongjoong’s gaze darkened. “Do you even realise what you’re asking for?”
“Your heart,” you nodded. “I wish to learn what you think about me, however… unfiltered that may be. You… you’re confusing me, occupying my thoughts and my heart and I need to make sense of it before I make a mistake, Joong. I love Yunho, don’t get me wrong, but I… I need to hear what you think of me, or else it will kill me.”
“Y/n,” Hongjoong squeezed your hands. “Go back. You need to leave.”
“No.”
Hongjoong took a deep breath. “If you learn what I would do to you if you were mine, if I… if I speak my mind about what I wish I could do to you right now…” Hongjoong looked away for a moment, collecting the last shreds of his sanity. “They would crucify me, love. So leave. What I think about you does not matter. You are Yunho’s.”
This time, you didn’t fight back when he pulled away from you. He went to the window, staring outside, the muscles in his face taut from tension.
“I’ve spent most of my life with Yunho,” you said, standing up and getting ready to leave. “It was easy to fall in love with him. He’s everything that I have ever wanted, and he has always been there, but Hongjoong… so have you. You have always been present with me and Yunho, watching and waiting, sometimes offering solace while other times, offering silence. If you had asked me to be yours before Yunho did, I would have said yes to you because no matter how much I think, I feel like my heart has always been split into two.”
“What do you mean?” Hongjoong looked at you, distraught.
“Make of that what you will,” you said, tired. “I’m done for the night, and I’m done explaining myself.” You left his room and made your way outside, your handmaid scurrying to accompany you.
Outside Hongjoong’s room hidden in a corner, a tall shadow stood for a few moments before disappearing elsewhere.
If there was one thing that the prince and princesses of your generation enjoyed, it was a good debate. Hence, the idea to have a few sessions where everyone would represent a kingdom that was not theirs was proposed by you. You could all shuffle the kingdoms or choose the one that you would like to represent. Since Neverland was not attending, Hongjoong decided to represent Neverland.
Yunho was representing your kingdom, Wonderland, and you were representing Eden since you were very familiar with the way they ran their kingdom. Wooyoung, San and Sieun switched among themselves. Jongho decided to act as a moderator since he was incredibly skilled at that.
Minjeong was opting to watch instead of participate– she was from a big family and not very involved in running the kingdom. Minjeong was going to score everyone based on how good their argument was and deduct points if someone crossed the line. Lastly, Jeongin was acting as the law– representing the crime courts of the land and navy.
A few days were spent with everyone gathering at the library to study about their assigned kingdoms and catch up with their latest trends directly with the actual nationals of those kingdoms. Jongho would join a group and make sure that the discussion would be unbiased since he was very well-versed with the current political climate.
It was only Hongjoong who had no one to discuss Neverland with. You and Yunho were spending most of the time together, exchanging information and debate points but though Hongjoong claimed to be okay, you knew that he was not aware of the recent trouble between your kingdom and Neverland.
You wondered if this was a good opportunity to let Hongjoong know. If he could raise the points about the trade-conflict in his discussion, you could observe and see if another kingdom was aware of this conflict and pretending otherwise. Perhaps, a kingdom could step up and offer an alliance. You discussed it with Yunho and he thought that it was wise to let Hongjoong know too.
However, he was busy coaching Jeongin tonight. The debates were starting tomorrow and you had no choice but to talk about this matter to Hongjoong directly. How would you face him now after basically confessing to each other that night in his room?
You were treading on such dangerous waters. This situation– the shift in the relationship between you two was so fragile. One wrong move and you could lose your title.
“Can’t you catch up with Hongjoong later tonight?” You begged Yunho one last time. He watched you with mild amusement.
“I told you that he has been going to bed early. I don’t know how long my session with Jeongin will take, but I have to help him out. It’s important for tomorrow,” Yunho patted your cheek. “Go talk to Hongjoong in private. It’ll be okay.”
“But…”
“Is there a reason you’re so queasy about meeting him?” Yunho raised a brow.
“Not really…” you faltered. “I’m just tired, I guess?”
Yunho scanned your eyes. “I’ll let Hongjoong know that you wish to talk to him. I feel like he has been giving you the cold shoulder lately. Did something happen between you two?”
“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Just teased him about his designs. Bet he’s salty about that.”
Yunho chuckled. “He’ll forgive you. He always does. I’ll be right back.”
You remained sitting at the desk in the library, palms growing sweaty with each passing moment while Yunho let Hongjoong know that you needed to discuss something important before tomorrow’s debate. You accidentally met eyes with Hongjoong and looked away in a flash, stifling a groan. How embarrassing.
Yunho came back and let you know that Hongjoong would be spending some time in the abandoned music room tonight. You could join him there.
You intended to. However, you intended to join him unsupervised. You could not risk guards or handmaids monitoring you.
And why not? Were you planning to do something that no one could see?
You were not. You simply wished to talk, however, you wanted to talk without eyes and ears around you. The matter of Neverland was sensitive. But… there was another matter just as sensitive.
Creating a distraction for the guards was easy enough. You asked them to accompany you to the adornment chamber, claiming that you would be spending quite a while there receiving massages and a long bath. However, you had ordered the handmaids there to clear the room earlier, claiming that you wished to bathe in private.
There was a secret passage in that room that connected to a few different rooms but eventually served as safe exits in case of a raid. You used that to access the music room. All you had to do was knock and wait.
Hongjoong opened the door behind the tapestry after a few moments, his sword pointed at you. He instantly relaxed when he realised that you were the intruder and he tossed the sword away. It was clearly not his and he must have searched for a weapon and found the decoratory sword.
“Whyever would you access the music room through this passage, Princess, and not that door over there?” Hongjoong stood with his hands on his hips, unrelenting.
“Privacy reasons,” you shrugged and moved past him.
“Privacy?” Hongjoong echoed, shocked. “Why would you want privacy here? We’re only discussing Neverland, not planning a coup. Besides, what would your mother say about coming here unchaperoned?”
“She is probably in her bed, reading a book and getting ready to sleep,” you twirled around to further tease the very pissed prince. “Relaxing. Maybe you should take a seat and relax too before we talk.”
“Y/n,” Hongjoong warned. “I’ll ask the guard to station himself inside–”
“Joong,” you called softly. “Just… sit. Relax. I know what I risk being here, but I trust you.”
“You trust me when I don’t trust myself around you,” Hongjoong said. You perched yourself on top of the piano, patting the space next to you. He ignored it. You ignored his statement.
“Neverland might attack Wonderland in the coming days,” you began. “I need you to learn about the conflict between us before our debate tomorrow and help me find if another kingdom is making alliances with Neverland to push against us.”
That immediately had Hongjoong’s attention. While you briefed him, he sat on the piano chair, occasionally playing some notes to let the guards know outside that he was still present and breathing. Hongjoong absorbed all information, his eyes narrowing as he schemed.
“I suppose I should poke everyone in the room. Especially those with strong ties to Neverland. They are all our friends, though. If they’re hiding an alliance with Neverland and scheming against Wonderland, it would be quite surprising.”
“Friendships change,” you reminded him. “Do you remember Junho? He was such a good friend until your kingdom had a conflict with theirs, and then he started to act like a solid ten years of friendship means nothing in the face of a petty conflict that can be solved through words.”
Hongjoong agreed. He straightened his legs and stretched his arms. “Friendships… do change. I just don’t like it when it happens. It leaves a bad aftertaste in your mouth even years later.”
You patted the space next to you again. This time, Hongjoong did sit next to you, though maintaining a distance and opting to stare at his boots.
“Our friendship… it has changed, hasn’t it?” You asked. “Does it leave a bad aftertaste too?”
“Not at all,” Hongjoong replied immediately. “It’s just… suffocating.”
Your heart hurt to hear those words. “Is there anything I can offer to make it better?”
“Then can you tell me how to deal with this suffocation?” You asked and Hongjoong looked at you. “Because every time I look at you, I wish to never look away. Every time we touch, I wish we never part. How do I deal with the suffocation of performing restraint?”
“Do you feel the same with Yunho?” Hongjoong asked.
“I do,” you admitted. “A couple of nights ago, he told me that he wanted to kiss me. It took every cell in my body to not make his wish come true, because we promised to respect the traditions.”
Hongjoong was silent for a few moments before he spoke. “You love Yunho and you want to be with him as soon as possible. I’m sorry that our political climate is delaying your wedding, but… what if you’re confused because you cannot be with Yunho right now? What if your feelings for me are just a product of your anger and exhaustion?”
His words struck like a whip at you. Your breath quickened and you clenched your jaw. Hongjoong noticed and he tried to take your hand in his but you pulled away as if his touch had burned you, aware of the hurt flashing in his eyes.
“Don’t you dare tell me how I feel about you, Joong,” you said in a low, warning tone. “When I have spent all my life searching for you in crowded rooms just as you have. When my eyes always find yours, just like yours find mine. Don’t you dare tell me when you do not know how much my heart yearns for you.”
“I… I’m so sorry,” Hongjoong’s voice was wet and he took your hand in both of his, peppering kisses. “I’m sorry to make assumptions, my love, but you have to be clear about what exactly you want. You can’t keep pulling me towards you when you don’t intend to keep me. I get hurt too.”
Your eyes immediately softened. “What are we going to do, Joong?”
“We can’t do this to Yunho. You know that… right?” Hongjoong slid closer, caressing your cheekbone. “As much as I love you, I can’t compromise my relationship with Yunho just because I was a coward who didn’t take my chance. I can’t compromise your honour just because I wish to learn what your lips… what you taste like before you leave me forever.”
Your heart swooped dangerously but you leaned closer, pausing.
This was not why you came here unchaperoned… right?
It didn’t matter. The traditions that you had respected all your life, you were willing to break. The sacred, silent vows to protect your chastity. Your mother’s warning to not engage in improper behaviour, your father’s gentle reminders… all down the drain, just to grant Hongjoong’s innocent wish.
“Are we really doomed?” You whispered. “If I… if I touch you now, are we dooming ourselves?”
“Probably,” Hongjoong breathed, his forehead joining with yours. As soon as the tip of his nose brushed with yours, you became molten in his touch, your mouth parting, waiting for more. Hongjoong parted gently, brows furrowed as if he was in physical pain. The corners of his lips drooped as he observed you.
The desire in your eyes for him… how could he have missed that?
Your hands went to clutch at his shirt near his collar and he groaned internally, unable to resist. He joined your foreheads again, only to plant a sweet kiss near your mouth, one that had you shivering uncontrollably in both anticipation and nervousness. He trailed his lips along your jaw, occasionally stopping to kiss or suck at your skin and your back arched against him, breathing becoming heavier with each passing second.
Hongjoong buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his lips planting a soft kiss on your collarbone too. He remained there for a long, long time, weighing the odds of his decision and gathering strength in his body to finally part from you.
“Hongjoong,” you called when he pulled away. He only shook his head.
“We can’t do this to Yunho,” he reminded you. His words slashed like a knife at your heart. “We owe him that much.”
He was right. Yunho had never questioned your and Hongjoong’s relationship because he trusted you both. You could not betray his trust like this.
Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, Hongjoong was not going to wipe them. He backed away slowly though every step hurt him.
“We are going to pretend that these intimate moments never happened between us,” Hongjoong steeled himself. “It’s best that you forget about me, love. I will continue to be your friend, or if you wish for me to give you space, I will do that, but let’s not betray our closest friend like this.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Tears streamed down your face.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Hongjoong shook his head, assuring you gently. “These feelings will fade. You have a life with Yunho ahead, and my biggest mission in life is to protect Yunho from any threat. I cannot be a threat to him. You understand, don’t you?”
“I do,” you nodded.
“Then go back to your room,” Hongjoong smiled, his own eyes glazed. “Tomorrow, when we meet, we will be just two friends who love to bicker. I will continue to be your shadow.”
“And I will continue to be your secretkeeper,” you completed and he nodded.
“I’m proud of you, my dear,” he smiled again. “I hope you know that.”
With that, he left the room, leaving you alone with the mess of your feelings. You struggled to breathe, wiping your tears away hastily.
You needed to find Yunho.
Oh, you had been the most awful to him, even though he did not know what the two of you had been up to in the shadows. You needed to touch him because he was what was real.
Hongjoong would not be going up to his room. He would probably take to the gardens to get some fresh air. Yunho might be back in his chambers. You decided to go to his chambers, not minding if anyone saw you.
Damned be the traditions. Whoever decided that these manmade traditions were as sacred as the law itself?
The guards let you inside and the servants inside offered to call Yunho, but you asked them to give you some privacy, saying there was an urgent political matter you needed to discuss with him. You would only take a few moments, you assured. Since they trusted you and Yunho, they went back to rest.
You knocked at Yunho’s room and he opened the door, surprised to find you. It looked like he was in the process of changing– the buttons of his shirt were undone and he wasn’t wearing his jacket that he had been earlier.
“Y/n? What are you doing here–”
You entered and shut the door behind you, throwing yourself at him in an embrace. Surprised, he hugged you back, rubbing your back. “Is something the matter?” He asked, worry lacing his tone.
“I…” you breathed, inhaling his scent. He smelled like the ocean and fresh flowers. It was your favourite scent in the world– even better than Hongjoong’s musk and vanilla scent. “Please, let me stay like this for a moment. I need to feel that you are real.”
“I am real, love,” Yunho laughed anxiously, rubbing your back. “Take your time.”
You did. Feeling his heartbeat synchronise with yours was satisfying enough but nowhere near enough after what Hongjoong had done. You needed more.
“Yunho,” you drew back, cradling his face and struggling to look up at the tall prince. “I need you to kiss me.”
“What?”
“I need you to kiss me,” you repeated, gaze stuck on his lips.
“Y/n,” Yunho called gently. “I cannot compromise your honour. We made a promise to respect the traditions, didn’t we?”
“Forget about the traditions for once, forget about stupid manmade concepts of honour and reverence of the throne,” you almost spat. “I need you to kiss me and remind me that you love me–”
“If you say it like this,” Yunho’s brows furrowed. He looked as if he was fighting an internal battle. “I’ll have no choice but to obey, but y/n, my love…” Yunho squeezed your sides. “Are you sure about this?”
“Did I ask for too much?” You sighed, looking for any signs of disappointment in his eyes but finding only curiosity. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I–”
To your surprise, Yunho didn’t let you finish. He leaned in and captured your lips in an experimental kiss, moving his lips along yours.
It was your first kiss. It was his first too. He moved his lips, alternating between soft pecks and deep, open-mouthed kisses. As soon as he got the hang of it, he groaned and picked you up, a surprised sound escaping your mouth. He steered you both to the bed where he sat with you in his lap, one hand resting on the dip of your waist while the other tangled in your hair.
“You need to tell me when to stop,” his eyes were laden with the desire that you had only ever read about in books. “I’m going to kiss you until you stop me. God help me, love, ” he sighed, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. “I can’t stop.”
Almost immediately, you were kissing again, this time deep and passionate. Your heart and your head all belonged to Yunho, your body responding to his touch and moving accordingly. You cupped his face, tangled your fingers through the soft strands of his hair and ran your hands across the smooth panels of his chest, all the while his lips refused to leave yours. He nipped at your lips, teased them with his tongue and explored the cavity of your mouth, swallowing all your moans. When you finally drew back for breath, he seemed to come back to his senses, his eyes widening slightly.
“I…” he began, still refusing to let you go. “We should not have done that, but good heavens.”
You laughed, caressing his face affectionately. “I’m sorry for demanding something so unreasonable.”
“No, I’ve wanted to do this since forever, but… I really thought we were going to wait until marriage,” he stifled a grin.
“I thought so too, but apparently, I’m desperate,” you pouted. “I came begging for a kiss. It should have been the other way round.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Yunho pecked your lips. “As long as we both get what we want.”
You nodded, smoothening his hair away from his face. “I’m still sorry, though. I… I just wanted to– I,”
“You don’t have to explain your reasons,” Yunho held your hands in his. “But we should definitely stop here.”
“I agree,” you said. “But do you think other people sneak in kisses or something more before their weddings too?”
Yunho laughed heartily and your heart warmed. This really was the man that you loved and wished to spend the rest of your life with. “I suppose they do. Should we ask your father?”
“Shut up,” you scowled, pulling away from his lap. You stood on your feet but he didn’t let go of your hands. “A goodnight kiss?”
“Stop testing my limits, Princess,” Yunho warned but pulled you in for one last kiss, forehead joined and noses brushing. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” you confessed. “More than you can imagine.”
Yunho smiled. “How did your meeting with Hongjoong go?”
You did your best to keep your smile from falling. “He understands. He is probably scheming somewhere right now.”
“That’s good,” Yunho watched you. “Don’t let him learn that we broke the tradition. He’ll be insufferable about it.”
“Of course,” you shook your head. “We are the most chaste people in the entire kingdom. Let’s not forget that.”
Yunho smirked darkly, getting up and fixing your hair. You went back to your room, convincing yourself that what had happened with Hongjoong was just your anger and exhaustion, like he had said.
You could definitely try to forget it and move on. For Yunho, you could do that. You owed him that much.
You didn’t think the debates would be so serious until you found Wooyoung, Sieun and Hongjoong in a heated argument, with Jongho snacking on peanuts and letting the chaos unfold before him, and Jeongin over the clouds because everyone was addressing him as ‘Your Honour’.
You folded your arms and scoffed at your little brother. He was gloating. Apparently, being called Your Highness wasn’t enough for him. He liked the other title more.
“Your Honour,” Wooyoung called and Jeongin straightened, his eyes curved in a foxy grin. “The Kingdom of Hala has a known reputation of violating treaties. Year 1941 when the kingdom broke a treaty with Eden over baseless speculations, and year 1962 when the kingdom almost broke the treaty again but then the matter was sorted by amending the treaty. But…”
Wooyoung looked towards Sieun with a smirk growing on his face. As Hala’s princess, Sieun was fuming but also awaiting how Wooyoung would defend his representative kingdom.
“It’s understandable if the neighbouring kingdoms see the Kingdom of Hala as a nation governed by people who cannot keep their word, but in this specific instance of whether Hala has violated international land laws, I confirm that Hala has not. Just because we don’t respect our treaties does not mean we don’t respect international law.”
Sieun settled down in defeat, though she was still slightly confused if her own kingdom had been represented correctly. She lightly shrugged and Wooyoung took it as a sign of approval.
“Very well,” Jeongin cleared his throat. “The Kingdom of Neverland may now argue whether creating alliances when there is a clear sign of conflict between any two kingdoms is disrespecting the international law, especially when some of the war routes fall in the territory of geographical points protected by the international law.”
“Remember,” Jongho reminded everyone, “To stay respectful during the arguments since this is a made-up debate.”
Hongjoong nodded and stood up, meeting eyes with you and Yunho. You both passed subtle nods. The plan was to bait the people present into admitting whether they were aware of the current navy conflict between Neverland and Wonderland.
“I would begin by providing the past instances of similar events where Neverland either decided not to participate in conflicts because of the fear of violating international laws and being held accountable. Years 1864, 1875 and 1925 when Neverland abstained from any such conflicts,” Hongjoong scanned his notes and then looked at Jeongin. “Year 1951 when a conflict with The Kingdom of Hala had us sailing our ships and almost violating the international navy law.”
“I wonder why you weren’t held accountable,” Wooyoung pointed out.
“Maybe because Hala was hell-bent on escalating the war?” Hongjoong answered smoothly. “Neverland had a duty to protect its people. If we just stood by, we would watch Hala violate the international navy law and sail to us with the sole purpose to fight–”
“Hala would never do that!” Sieun stood up, slamming her hands on the desk. “Neverland has been breaking navy laws even in the present time and no one holds them accountable!”
While Jongho rebuked Sieun for breaking character and Minjeong deducted her score, you and Yunho straightened.
“Let’s relax,” Yunho whispered after a moment. “Hongjoong will figure it out. Let’s pretend we don’t know what just happened.”
You nodded. Hongjoong was trying hard to contain his smirk.
“The Kingdom of Hala,” Hongjoong raised his brow at Sieun but then shifted his eyes to Wooyoung who was supposed to answer in Sieun’s stead, “is known for violating treaties, like you said, Wooyoung. What’s to say that it wouldn’t violate the navy law? After all, the navy law is trickier, isn’t it?”
“That’s not the topic of today’s debate,” Wooyoung said before Jongho could.
“Your Honour,” Hongjoong looked at Jeongin. “I would still like further explanation from Hala’s representatives about their baseless accusation of Neverland violating navy laws in the present time, if you would allow.”
Jeongin discussed it with Jongho. You were sure that Jeongin would decide against it– that was a real time conflict and this was supposed to be a recreational activity, not a debate on current events.
That is exactly what Jongho and Jeongin decided. The topic steered back to the original made-up conflict and the tension in the room slowly dissipated. The debate ended on a good note with Yunho emerging as the winner with leading points.
Hongjoong found you both when you were on the way to the hall for refreshments. “I guess the young princess is not as politically unaware as she pretends to be.”
“Right?” Your eyes subconsciously darted towards Sieun. She appeared very relaxed, sitting in a corner with Minjeong and probably discussing the debate. “If she is aware about Neverland and Wonderland’s conflict, she’s doing a damned good job at pretending otherwise.”
“Which makes me wonder if the other kingdoms are aware as well,” Yunho added. “I gauged everyone’s reactions earlier and I’m sure Jongho knows something.”
“What should we do?” You turned towards the princes. “Interrogate Sieun or feel out Jongho?”
“What do you mean interrogate?” Hongjoong let out a short laugh. “You’re gonna tie her up and play prosecution?”
You glared at Hongjoong while Yunho stifled his smile. “I think it’s wiser to ask Jongho. He’s a close friend and if he knows something, he’ll be honest.”
You let out a huff but obeyed. Yunho smiled in response and got you both drinks. When he noticed Jongho hanging out alone in a corner, he said that he would be right back.
Leaving you and Hongjoong alone at your table.
You silently ate your croissant while you watched Yunho. You caught Hongjoong staring moments later.
“Good job today at the debate,” you acknowledged. “You handled it very well.”
“It was nothing,” Hongjoong dismissed. “You did well too. Second place is basically the first when Yunho is the permanent first place.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Yunho really doesn’t know how to lose.”
“He has always been a winner,” Hongjoong said with a deep sigh. Something in his voice told you that his words held a deeper meaning. The ache in your heart told you that you knew exactly what he meant, but you ignored it.
You were just friends now. Nothing more.
Yunho joined you with news that he had fixed a meeting with Jongho to discuss the Neverland conflict with Wonderland, you all cheered silently. When Yunho offered to take you to your room, Hongjoong excused himself smoothly and disappeared from the hall.
Just like he always did. You watched him until he was out of your sight before you said yes to Yunho, catching him looking at you with a strange expression– one that you hadn’t seen in his eyes before. “What?”
“Nothing,” Yunho smiled knowingly. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Of course I am,” you felt your cheeks flush. “What’s there to not feel alright about?”
“Just making sure,” Yunho took your hand and started to walk.
“Is something funny, Yunho?”
“Not at all,” he assured. “Just thinking about last night.”
“Jeong Yunho!” You scolded, looking around you. Of course, there was no one in the empty corridors and no guards nearby. Yunho wasn’t foolish enough to say something suspicious like this in the open.
However, he was a fool in love, and fools in love did things like steal an innocent peck before taking the turn towards your chambers where the security started to tighten. You smacked his chest repeatedly until he couldn’t breathe from laughing so much and warned him not to do that again, even though your own cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.
“Can I come inside?” Yunho asked when you reached the door. “I wanted to discuss a few things about… our lives.”
“Sure,” you welcomed him inside and you took a seat near the fireplace. Your maids sat at the far end of the room, watching but unable to hear your conversation, giving you a certain level of privacy to talk freely.
“I’ve been thinking about our… future,” Yunho looked at you with expectant eyes and you met his gaze when he seated himself across from you. With the fire illuminating one half of his face while casting shadows on the other, he looked every bit the man and the prince that he had become.
Your future husband.
“I have been thinking,” Yunho inhaled deeply. “And… I know that we planned to talk about marriage to your parents on this visit, but I think that we should delay it.”
Your heart sank. “Why? Is everything alright?”
“Of course,” he assured. “I would like to ask for your hand officially after I secure a title as the second prince or the crown prince. That gives us all enough time to… sort out whatever needs sorting.”
“If you’re doing this because you are unsure of whether my parents would approve, Yunho,” you looked at him fondly. “They adore you. They love you and you’re everything they could have ever wished for, for me. They understand your circumstances– I mean, they are aware that we’re interested in each other, but they would accept you no matter your future title.”
“I know, love,” Yunho smiled. “It’s not that.”
Your smile fell. “Are you… sure about us? Do you need time to think about things–”
“Y/n,” Yunho looked like he wanted to hold you but his eyes darted towards the maid. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life but you. You are the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with, and… now that we’re talking about it, I want you to reconsider everything before you agree to my proposal. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Of course I do,” you said without a doubt in your voice or your heart. “Do you think that I played with fire because I wasn’t sure?”
“Not at all,” Yunho confirmed. He was sure that you didn’t ask him to kiss you just to make sure that he really was the one. Your friendship and your love wasn’t that shallow. “Just needed to make sure. If you ever… if there is ever someone else in your life, someone else in your heart… I want you to know that you can still trust me and confide in me.”
“What does that mean?” You straightened, heart pounding right between your ears this time.
“It means,” Yunho said lightheartedly, grinning. “That I’m your best friend first. If there is ever someone else that you would like to marry, I’ll understand. I only wish the best for you and I wouldn’t want you to bind yourself to me out of compulsion.”
“Does that mean that you would not fight for me?” You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms. “Didn’t peg you as the loser sort.”
“Of course I would fight for you,” Yunho shook his head. “But I wouldn’t hurt you, ever. I would rather watch you happy with someone else than unhappy with me.”
“Yunho,” you whispered, fighting back tears. “That’s… very honourable of you to offer, but you are unfortunately still the person that I wish to marry. And… I would like to offer you the same. That’s the least I can do, but don’t expect me to be as understanding as you.”
Yunho nodded and you wished that your eyes conveyed what your heart felt in that moment– that you loved him infinitely, even though you couldn’t say it out loud right now.
The next few days were a breeze.
You found out that Jongho was aware of Wonderland’s conflict with Neverland and was willing to offer help in any way that he could– the Kingdom of Kiji and its two Choi princes would always side with Wonderland. That left preparing strategies for departure of the guests to their homelands and tightening security.
However, you noticed how Sieun appeared distant and disconnected from the rest of your group. You all had been spending a lot of time together playing games, studying, strategising and whatnot. Even Hongjoong was back to normal with his near-constant teasing and jabs that gave Wooyoung a run for his game.
You wondered if you were only noticing Sieun’s unusual behaviour now that she gave herself away during that debate, or if something fishy was going on.
Which was why when you saw her alone in the corridors near the guest chambers, you secretly started to follow her. You hid behind a wall when she stopped and started to converse with an unknown person.
You tried to strain your hearing. If you could get just a whisper of their conversation–
“Love… what do you think you’re doing?”
Your bones nearly jumped out of your skin. You glared at the perpetrator– Hongjoong– and motioned for him to seal his mouth.
Hongjoong was not amused. He found you hiding your figure behind a wall on his way to his room and decided to inspect. Hongjoong pressed your head down to make you tuck your knees further and allow him some space to crane his head over your crouched figure so that he could take a peek himself.
“Sieun… and?” Hongjoong asked in the lightest whisper. “Who is she exchanging the letter with?”
“I don’t know,” you answered. “Does he look familiar?”
“Do you think it’s a romantic scandal or a political one?” Hongjoong asked, not recognising the figure. Maybe one of the prince or princess’ guards?
“Everything feels political to me these days,” you answered, straightening when the two disappeared. “I’m not very interested in Sieun’s romantic escapades.”
“I thought you were a strict person when it came to traditions,” Hongjoong straightened the fabric at the waist of your gown.
“Do you think I would be the kind to turn someone in just because I disagree with their take on ‘manmade’ traditions?” You asked with a scoff, reminding Hongjoong of his own words. Manmade traditions.
“I suppose not,” Hongjoong shrugged, looking you in the eyes. “Considering… everything.”
“I’ll pretend I don’t know what that means,” you muttered. “I’m going to follow Sieun. Shall we split? You go follow the man.”
“It could be dangerous,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Sieun is probably going to her room. Let’s follow the man. I don’t want to leave you behind.”
You agreed– splitting was probably a bad idea, especially if this took a wrong turn. While you both walked a good distance behind the figure, sticking close to the walls, Hongjoong asked what you were doing in this part of the castle. This was near the guest chambers and the library and he had just been in the library taking a nap.
“I was going to see Yunho,” you admitted.
“Unchaperoned?” Hongjoong was almost teasing. “Where are your guards or handmaids?”
“I asked them to stay back.”
“Are they always this obedient? I should speak to your mother about enforcing security measures–”
You grabbed Hongjoong by the arm and pulled him instinctively in a wedge between the walls when the figure turned, probably alarmed by the noise. Hongjoong was tense, eyes wide and figure unmoving.
“We’re dead if we get found out now,” Hongjoong reminded you of every way that this could go wrong– the figure could be someone dangerous. If it was someone you both knew…
You were suddenly very aware of the lack of distance between you two. It was almost as if you were about to hug. You could see the twinkle in his eyes despite the low candle lights casting a shadow over his face. Your hand still gripped his arm out of fear and he held yours out of protection.
You could hear the footsteps getting closer. The wedge was small and Hongjoong almost lost his footing and tripped but you held him steady and allowed him to brace himself against the wall that you rested your back to. You were enveloped in his scent– deep, earthy and manly. It felt like home.
Home. The same jab in your heart at the thought because Yunho’s scent of freshness and ocean felt the same to you.
You could not do this. You could not spend another minute so close to Hongjoong and not lose your entire sense of self and crumble to the ground in ashes–
Hongjoong probably noticed your breathing getting quicker. He tucked your head in his chest and you clutched at his side. He must think that you were doing this out of fear, but fear was the last thing on your mind right now. It was… the lack of it that was making you tremble right now. That despite being moments away from being discovered and possibly held responsible for ‘breaking the traditions and engaging in improper behaviour’, you did not care.
All that mattered was Hongjoong and his fingers tangling in your hair, his protective embrace, his breath caressing your temple, him and only him–
“Hey!” An unfamiliar distant voice sounded. “Report to the station! Time to change shifts!”
The footsteps stopped. The man said something in response and then the footsteps started to fade away until they were no longer, and the only sound around you was the one of two beating hearts.
Hongjoong did not dare move. He did not move a muscle. He didn’t dare breathe in relief. He was slowly realising why you were holding on to him like this.
At some point, your breaths synchronised. Your chests rose and fell in rhythm. It was intimate like nothing else– the feeling of being one. One time, you had hugged Yunho long enough to experience that too. That time, you felt as giddy as a child.
This time… it was different.
It was always different with Hongjoong.
You soaked up every bit of his warmth and then mustered every bit of your courage to let him go. You could not face him now– not after making all those promises about being friends and nothing more, not after he had dismissed your feelings as anger and exhaustion. You let him go and in a flash, you started to walk away.
Except this time, Hongjoong was following.
“Princess,” he called, pain lacing his voice. “Please, look at me–”
“Leave me alone,” you declared, taking a sharp turn to the right to the abandoned part of the castle. You needed to be alone with your thoughts right now, away from all prying eyes.
“Just… wait–” Hongjoong grabbed your hand right when you were about to turn and you let out a shriek, a stinging sensation growing in your arm–
“Oh, saints,” Hongjoong cried out when you finally stopped. He looked at the wall. There was a nail sticking out and him pulling you so rashly resulted in a long gash across your wrist.
You hissed in pain when you drew the fabric of your sleeve away, revealing the damage. It didn’t look deep, but it was still painful and bleeding. Hongjoong drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and started to tie it around your wrist.
With trembling hands.
“I– I’m so sorry,” he whispered, dabbing at your arm with the edge of his sleeve to wipe the blood around your wound. With both shaking hands, he cradled your wrist with worry in his eyes. “Princess… your wrist– this could leave a scar–”
“Hongjoong,” you shook your head. “It’s okay. It will heal. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It is,” he almost looked offended to hear that. “You shouldn’t have so many scars on your body. You are the princess and the future queen–”
“I’m just a human, like you,” you corrected. “We bleed all the same.”
Hongjoong wasn’t having any of it. He was almost shaking. He looked at you and you thought that there were tears in his eyes.
“You always get hurt because of me,” his voice was also trembling now. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Hongjoong,” you sighed, pulling him towards the nearest room. All the rooms in this part of the castle were empty and if you were lucky, unsupervised, at least for a few minutes since the shift change was happening. You scanned the room– it appeared to be a study room with chairs scattered everywhere.
Now that you had better light, Hongjoong finished tying the handkerchief around your wrist properly, his hands shaking awfully.
“When you got that scar on your back… that was my fault too,” Hongjoong admitted in a small voice. “I was the one who challenged you to hunt at new grounds, even though I knew the storm was coming.”
“You were also the one who found me,” you reminded him. “I might have died of the cold otherwise,” you said with a laugh.
“Don’t say that,” Hongjoong’s gaze was fierce but his eyes…
Oh, he looked heartbroken.
“That was not your fault,” you said softly, your hand shaking slightly now, more from the heartache than the pain. Hongjoong inspected your hand closely. “This isn’t either–”
With his still shaking hands, he brought your hand to his lips and started to kiss your fingers one by one, muttering apologies. You could do nothing but watch. He gently seated you on a chair nearby and sank to the ground, kissing your palm and resting his head on your knees.
This was the strongest man you knew, reduced to this. On his knees, apologising for the things he had no control over and kissing your hands as if that could make things better, as if that could patch you right up.
“Joong,” you called, overwhelmed. “Joong, look at me.”
He did and your resolve crumbled. You cupped his face with your free hand and lowered yourself to meet his lips, a sigh of relief escaping the both of you as soon as your lips brushed.
Hongjoong remained unmoving. He let you kiss his lips for a few moments before he almost whimpered and answered with everything in him. He craned his neck up and met your lips and your tongue in a frenzy as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening.
You couldn’t either. This couldn’t be real– the butterflies in your stomach, the heat coursing throughout your body begging you to never let him go. You pulled him up, tired, and spread your legs so he could wedge his left knee between them to balance himself. Now that he was towering over you, you saw the darkness in his eyes before he devoured your lips.
This was nothing like the kiss with Yunho. That had been experimental, restrained yet loving, but this?
This was pure, raw desire. The need to be with one another, the need to be one, to mold yourself with the other. Hongjoong’s hands shifted from your neck to your shoulders, pushing the sleeves away and swiftly unbuttoning the top few buttons so that he could run his hands along the expanse of your collarbones. He explored the cavity of your mouth and you sank lower, giving yourself entirely to him and gasping when his knee made contact with your core.
Hongjoong didn’t stop. He let you catch your breath while he kissed and licked at your skin, pecked along your collarbone and then crouched to inspect the scar on your back that was now visible.
He traced it with his fingertips and you bent slightly to give him a better view. To your surprise, he kissed it tenderly. Before you could respond, he was back and kissing your earlobe, tracing his lips along your jaw and you gladly met his lips again, slow and meaningful, your hands clutching at his collar.
This time when he drew away, he found your eyes wet with tears and his own blurry. Oh, you both had made a big, big mistake. Hongjoong bent down and kissed both your eyelids and tasted your tears on his lips. He wiped your cheeks and looked at you, utterly broken.
“You own my mind and my soul,” Hongjoong confessed, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. “How will I ever recover from this?”
“How will I?” You asked, almost pleading.
“You have Yunho,” he reminded you.
“But…” you cradled his jaw, drinking in his features. “He’s not you. He’s different.”
“He’s meant for you,” Hongjoong gently reminded you. “As you are meant for him.”
“If we’re not meant for each other, then why does it feel like parting from you would kill me?” You asked, tilting your head, your noses brushing. “Don’t you feel the same?”
Your lips brushed. None of you pulled away yet none of you dared to take another step.
“Maybe in another life,” Hongjoong mused with a sad smile. “Maybe in another world, we are together. In this one, I’m just grateful that I got to taste your lips and feel your love, Princess. I cannot be selfish. You’re not mine to keep.”
He drew back with immense struggle and you held his wrist. He didn’t pull away. He helped you stand up and after deliberation, decided to hug you one last time.
“I think we need some distance and some time… away. From each other,” Hongjoong said, his hands tangling in your hair and his body molding into yours.
You knew that his words made sense, but you couldn’t help the sobs that wracked throughout your body. “Hush, now. I…”
His voice trembled and he cleared his throat, drawing away and wiping your tears again. This time, he affectionately kissed your forehead. “Let’s go get your hand treated, love. There are already enough scars on your body.”
“Just the one,” you laughed through tears. “And now a big, big one–”
“I’m sorry–”
“On my heart,” you corrected and he sighed. “How are we going to treat that?”
Hongjoong smiled sadly. He didn’t have an answer. As soon as you were ready to step out, he held your unhurt hand and led you out.
The two of you walked in silence towards the medical wing but on your way, it was Yunho who encountered you, confused for a moment before he spotted your bleeding wrist.
“Good heavens, are you alright?” Yunho asked and inspected your hand. You and Hongjoong shared a look before Hongjoong straightened.
“Caught her sneaking around in dark corridors. Unguarded,” he sent his trademark glare in your direction. You were surprised that he could act right now. You were tired enough to not respond at all. “I was taking her to the medical wing. Can you take over?”
Yunho observed Hongjoong for a moment too long. He didn't miss the wetness in his eyes. Hongjoong was a great actor but some emotions, even he could not hide.
Yunho nodded sombrely and Hongjoong said something about being late for a meeting with Wooyoung. Yunho took your hand and led you silently to the medical wing.
The nurse treated your hand, letting you know that the wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. She gave you a pill for pain after finding you holding back tears and when she went, Yunho smiled and pressed the pout on your lips with his thumb.
“Does it hurt that much?” He asked. “I thought you were a strong girl, Princess.”
“I was,” you cried. “But… it hurts so, so much.”
Yunho brought you in for a hug and let you cry your heart out. You were unable to control the tears and you were too tired to think of an explanation to give to Yunho right now. You simply sobbed until you got tired and shut your eyes.
Yunho caressed your hair and let you be, occupied with his own thoughts.
He was sure now– there was something between you and Hongjoong. He had hardly ever seen Hongjoong with tear-stained eyes, and both occasions had to do something with you. The last time he saw Hongjoong like that was when he found you in the storm after you got lost hunting. At that time, he figured that Hongjoong had been overwhelmed with the idea of something happening to you, which was understandable– Yunho himself had felt the same.
But this time… it was undeniable. He was aware that your tears tonight were not because of the wound on your hand but the one in your heart.
You looked up at Yunho after resting a bit and found him watching you with a faint smile. He asked if you felt better and you thanked him for tolerating the mess that you had become. He only smiled and accompanied you to your chamber, making sure your maids gave you something warm to drink before leaving with an affectionate kiss to your forehead.
You settled down in your bed and played every moment you had spent with Yunho just now. Even after everything with Hongjoong, you still viewed Yunho just the same– your love, a piece of your heart. Your soulmate, you used to call him. You stood by it now too. Your feelings for the young prince had not changed one bit.
But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, kissing Hongjoong only made you more sure that your heart was equally divided for both the princes. Choosing one over the other would break something in you that would never heal. You could not live the rest of your life with Yunho while watching Hongjoong from the sidelines, or spend the rest of your life with Hongjoong after breaking Yunho’s heart. It would be the cruelest punishment to one or the other.
If you could not have them both… you would prefer to have none of them. That would be your punishment for being so selfish and letting your heart yearn for both the sun and the moon when there should only be a place for one.
Hongjoong had decided to leave early for his home, claiming that there were some ‘urgent matters’ that he needed to address.
However, Yunho was aware that there were no such matters. As Hongjoong checked to see if he had all of his belongings, Yunho stood by his door with folded arms, watching.
“Are you really going to give me the silent treatment?” Yunho asked. Hongjoong had been avoiding eye contact since Yunho found him accompanying you to the hospital wing two days ago. “Both of you?”
“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asked, still not looking at the younger prince.
“Our princess is pretending to be too busy with ‘work’,” Yunho scoffed. “Care to share what transpired between the two of you that night?”
Hongjoong finally looked at Yunho. “Nothing happened. She was spying at Sieun and I saved her from what could have been a dangerous incident, and she got hurt in the process.”
“Is that why she cried in my arms the whole night?” Yunho looked hurt now, and it broke Hongjoong’s heart. “Come on. Talk to me, Joong. You know that you are my best friend and I trust you.”
Trust. Hongjoong wanted to laugh. He had played with Yunho’s trust. He had compromised your chastity. How would Yunho react if he learned that Hongjoong had touched you in places that he hadn’t either?
“Thank you for trusting me,” Hongjoong’s voice was thick with tension. “There is no explanation that I can offer you right now. Ask the princess about her emotions– I’m not answerable for what she feels.”
“But you are answerable for your own feelings,” Yunho stressed. “So tell me what you feel about y/n.”
Hongjoong stopped in his tracks. He was glad that his back was facing Yunho right now. Composing himself, he turned around. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
Yunho was smiling knowingly now. “You can pretend that you are not in love with her, but I am no stranger to that look in your eyes when you see her. You, my friend, are bewitched by her. Your eyes… they always search for her. The way you look at her makes me wonder if I love her as much as you do.”
Hongjoong appeared stricken. “That is not true.”
“I would believe you,” Yunho sighed deeply, his expressions turning to stone, “if y/n did not look at you the same way.”
For a few moments, the princes watched each other. For Hongjoong, he was recalling every moment that he had spent with Yunho– never had they disagreed on something. They hardly ever argued and even though they did not always see eye to eye, they wished the best for each other. They loved and respected the other more than their own self.
For Yunho… he was trying to gauge Hongjoong’s reactions. Hongjoong was good at hiding his emotions, but he could not hide his feelings. Yunho was confused about many things, and he thought that he could certainly begin by confirming Hongjoong’s feelings for you.
“She does not look at me like you think she does,” Hongjoong shook his head. “She loves you. She wants to marry you. I’m nothing to her–”
“That’s a lie,” Yunho said calmly. “Just… just tell me what you feel about her, Hongjoong. I need to hear it from your mouth– I promise that it wouldn’t affect my relationship with the princess. I know that she loves me very much and wishes to marry me, but I am not a fool and I also know that she has some feelings for you too. I would never hurt her, so just… tell me. Please.”
“And what good would learning about my feelings do any of us?” Hongjoong scoffed. “Except break your heart and break my resolve?”
Yunho took a deep breath. He took a step towards Hongjoong but the elder prince retracted. Yunho paused, unsure how to convince him.
“If I tell you that I love her… with all of my heart and my soul,” Hongjoong began, voice guarded. “If I tell you that every moment I spend away from her, knowing that she will never be mine, kills me… if I tell you that now that I–”
Yunho urged Hongjoong to carry on. Perhaps, it was the accepting eyes or the fact that Yunho was Yunho, Hongjoong’s other half, that made Hongjoong surrender and give the truth away.
“If I tell you that now that I have had a taste of her lips and her skin… would that be enough for you to give her up?”
Yunho’s eyes flashed for a second. His jaw clenched and unclenched but he quickly guarded himself.
You, the princess, were not an object. You were not Yunho’s, or Hongjoong’s. Yunho had no right to get angry at what you both did when he himself had done the same. He had no right to reprimand Hongjoong, except for the fact that he did it knowing that you and Yunho intended to marry, but… could he blame him?
“I would not give her up,” Yunho announced. “Because if I did, that would mean that I never loved her enough in the first place.”
Hongjoong smiled. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear. You’re a lucky man, Yunho. The princess… she’ll forget about me one day. I will try not to interfere between you two anymore and stay in the background after you get married. The less she sees me, the better it is.”
With that, Hongjoong picked his bag. He stood in front of Yunho and met his eyes, a fallen soldier. “Take care of her, Yunho. And… I’m sorry for my actions. I really am.”
Hongjoong patted Yunho’s arm and was about to leave the room when Yunho finally found the right words.
“So I guess you do not love her enough to fight for her.”
Hongjoong froze in his tracks. He turned, expecting to see Yunho angry but he had a deadly calm look on his face and it irked him very much. “What did you say?”
“That is your philosophy, right?” Yunho challenged. “If you give up, that means that you never loved her enough in the first place. So I take it that you never really loved y/n that much, huh? Did you get inside her head just to mess with her?”
Hongjoong was a raging animal– he dropped his bag and was at Yunho’s throat in a second.
“Do not make light of my feelings,” Hongjoong growled, fisting Yunho’s collar. “I’m giving up out of respect for you, for our bond, because I do not wish to break your heart and take your love away from you.”
“Does that make you a bigger person?” Yunho questioned and Hongjoong let him go, catching his breath.
“What… what exactly do you want to hear, Yunho?” Hongjoong asked, confused. “Are you looking for a fight?”
“I’m looking for a solution,” Yunho cried out, taking a deep breath. “You think I care about manmade traditions of chastity anymore? You think that confessing that you kissed the princess would make us fight? Did you think that you could go home bloody and battered and it would solve everything?”
Yunho sighed deeply, taking a seat and calming himself. Hongjoong waited for him to continue and when he finally looked at him, Hongjoong braced himself.
“For all these talks about us respecting the traditions,” Yunho said with a light laugh. “We broke it too, Joong. We kissed too. You’re not special.”
“Ouch,” Hongjoong retorted, sitting at the edge of the bed near Yunho. “Didn’t peg you as the rebellious type, Yunho.”
“I didn’t either,” Yunho smiled. “Just tell me that you love her as much as I do.”
“I do,” Hongjoong confessed. “Just as much, if not more.”
“Then we can leave the decision to the princess,” Yunho mused.
“She will choose you. She has to,” Hongjoong looked pained. “You’re the future king. I will not snatch that away from her just because of my selfishness.”
“I don’t have to be the future king–”
“You will take no such steps,” this time, Hongjoong took the reins. “I am going back to solve the matter of our hierarchy once and for all. As soon as you earn the title of the Crown Prince, I will send a proposal to y/n’s parents on your behalf. You will get married to her and live happily ever after.”
“Then what about you?” Yunho looked equally as hurt. “You love her. You always have.”
“And I will continue to do so, silently,” Hongjoong confirmed. “But I will not be selfish. That’s not me. As long as you two are happy, that would mean the world to me.”
“But–”
“Stop looking for solutions when they don’t exist,” Hongjoong got up. “You and y/n will get married. That’s final.”
Hongjoong didn’t wait to hear what Yunho had to offer. He left the room, feeling considerably content. Now that he did not have to hide anything from Yunho, he felt as light as a feather. He hadn’t realised how much betraying Yunho and hiding his feelings from him had weighed him down.
But in his carriage, on his way to exit the Kingdom of Wonderland, he kept thinking about what Yunho had said. How Yunho had acted. He had to be imagining things, but why was Yunho not mad at him for what he had done? Why was he still worried about Hongjoong and how he would cope with the heartbreak?
Yunho could have beaten him to a pulp just for touching you. Yunho was far stronger. Hongjoong would have let him– he had no right to fight back. Instead, Yunho was looking for a solution. Did Yunho think that all three of you could have a happily ever after? That was not possible.
Hongjoong decided that he had to move on– for you, and more importantly, for Yunho. He would have you both marry each other– it would genuinely make him the happiest. If you were marrying someone else, he would have fought for you valiantly, but because this was Yunho, he would lay down his arms with a smile, for it didn’t hurt very much to imagine you and him together. It only hurt because he could no longer be with you.
Hongjoong was about to shut his eyes and take a nap when his carriage came to a halt abruptly and he heard the sound of his guards yell and load their guns and unsheathe their swords. His heart sank in his feet but he quickly bent to retract his own gun from under his seat, awaiting his bodyguard’s orders.
“An ambush?” Hongjoong asked in a low voice. “We dispatched a decoy too, didn’t we?”
“There must be someone on the inside who betrayed us,” the guard said. How ironic. “Your Highness, please wait inside while I inspect the matter–”
Except his bodyguard got shot right in the head, the bullet barely escaping Hongjoong. Hongjoong was surprised for a few moments but he quickly gathered himself, saying a silent prayer and straightening his shoulders.
Then he exited the carriage with a deadly look in his eyes.
“If you soldiers value your lives, we will talk and negotiate,” Hongjoong announced. “Otherwise, I cannot promise that we will make it out alive.”
You and Yunho were in the dining hall, chatting after everyone had left, when Jeongin came running, out of breath, with news that Hongjoong’s carriage– not the decoy, but the actual carriage– was found empty and bloodstained, all the soldiers and guards accompanying him dead with more bodies of the enemy found but no signs of the prince.
For a moment, your vision blackened and you couldn’t hear anything. You could tell that someone was calling your name and someone was shaking you and tapping your cheek but you could only think of one thing–
Hongjoong. How he had left– without saying goodbye. How the last things he had said to you were about his love for you and his regret for leaving you.
“I– I’m okay,” you managed after a few moments, Yunho and Jeongin crowding over you with concern in their eyes. You took a few sips of water, reminding yourself that this was not about you and that you had to think.
You took Yunho’s hand and squeezed it, letting him be vulnerable for a few moments too. You looked at Jeongin. “Who else knows?”
“Father and mother, and their advisors,” Jeongin said. “The three of us.”
“Good,” you pursed your lips. “How are we proceeding?”
“A search party is being arranged and sent right away. I think we have to wait and look for a trail– if there is not a body, that means he must be alive and either taken hostage or on the run. Father said that we will wait until we have a lead.”
“Can we trust our soldiers?” You asked out loud. Yunho was probably thinking the same considering how he nodded. “The decoy is safe while the actual carriage was attacked. Someone inside the castle has betrayed us, I… I’m so sorry, Yunho.”
“It’s not your fault,” he insisted. “Can I suggest something?”
“Of course,” you and Jeongin said simultaneously.
“I would like to personally go and search for Hongjoong,” Yunho said and you and Jeongin looked at each other, conflicted. You were both aware that even though it was very dangerous for Yunho to step out, especially from a political point of view, Yunho would not stop on anyone’s orders. “The enemy is probably the rebel groups from Neverland who might use Hongjoong as a means to negotiate. There isn’t anyone else who would do this, right?”
“Not in our knowledge,” Jeongin said and you confirmed. “Anyone that might have ill feelings for your kingdom or Hongjoong personally?”
“Not that I know of,” Yunho thought about it, the tension apparent on his face. “I have a suggestion that we make this public. If this really is Neverland’s doing, the public backlash– especially because the other royals need to go home soon– will pressurise the enemy to reveal themselves. I think this is our best bet right now.”
“And once they learn that most of the kingdoms are siding with yours in search of Hongjoong,” you continued. “If we play this right…”
Yunho nodded. “While I search for Hongjoong, will you look into who the insider could be?”
“Let me come with you. I can fight–”
“Princess,” Yunho said softly, clasping your hands. “No.”
You looked at Yunho helplessly. He did not need to explain himself. His tone was final. He simply was not going to risk your life while searching for Hongjoong.
“I will go in your stead–”
“You’re too young, Jeongin,” Yunho smiled gently at him. “Instead, I have another task for you. I need you to look into the insider with y/n and prepare to confront anyone who dares to become an obstacle. Use your authority as the crown prince if your sister’s message does not get across. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Jeongin nodded, sure.
“And in case… In case things go wrong…”
“Yunho,” you called but he shook his head, taking a moment to brace himself.
“Take care in case things go wrong.”
You were both about to respond but Wooyoung, San and Jongho came rushing inside, looking stricken with worry.
“We just heard,” Wooyoung started, out of breath. “Let us know how we can help.”
~
It was going to do you no good to simply sit and wait to hear back from the princes. Each one of them had split up with their own search teams despite your father warning them about how this could go very, very wrong. Each of them had also sent a letter to their home– that in case they got hurt, it would be their own fault and no one else’s, for they could not leave a friend behind.
You supposed the princes were very tightly knit. Meeting each other annually and living together for weeks, or sometimes even months did that. They were all out there risking their lives for Hongjoong, and you were not going to be idle. You decided to confront Sieun.
“It’s just a crazy coincidence to me,” you said in a deadly calm voice while Sieun sat by the fire in her room, growing paler by each second. “Hongjoong and I witness you exchanging a letter with some stranger after you admit that you know about Neverland’s conflict with us. We follow the stranger and almost get caught. Next thing we know, Hongjoong is on his way home and gets attacked.”
“I– I would never do something like that,” Sieun said weakly. “I respect Prince Hongjoong very much. He’s like a big brother to me, just like you are a big sister to me.”
“That’s why I am here asking you, Sieun,” you pleaded, this time softly. “This doesn’t have to end badly with secrets and lies. I promise that I will keep your privacy and not hurt you in any way. I… I thought it could be a letter between lovers–”
“No, I– the traditions–”
“Just hear me out,” you sat closer to her this time and took her hands. “If I suspected something like that, I would have let it go. It’s not my place to hold you accountable, though as a big sister, I could maybe offer you advice to be careful. But I suspected that this was political, which is why I invaded your privacy and followed that stranger. Hongjoong just happened to be there– he was not involved.. So can you help me? Help us?”
Sieun sniffed and wiped her tears. She thought about it for a few moments and straightened. “How can I do that?”
“You can start by letting me know if that man is involved with Neverland in any way,” you said. “If he is not, our discussion ends right here. I will pretend that we never had this chat.”
Sieun sighed deeply. She was younger than you yet right now, she looked much older– as if she had seen or heard too much. Her eyes appeared sunken and her hair unkempt.
“That man is just one of the guards here,” Sieun finally admitted. “He is friends with a man in the Neverland embassy who sends letters to Neverland on my behalf.”
So Sieun was involved, and there was an insider. This was getting complicated. “Can I ask what business you have with Neverland? If it involves Wonderland or Eden in any way? And… can I ask who the recipient of the letter is?”
“Wonderland and Eden are not involved, but I can see in hindsight now that I may have made some errors and talked too much,” Sieun was fidgeting anxiously now. “The recipient is Prince Jiwoong. We… we grew close during his last visit to my kingdom and we have been exchanging letters since.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” you smiled. “I will keep your secret, but you have to tell me if the prince ever mentions Wonderland or Eden.”
“Not Eden,” Sieun admitted. “He asked about who was attending. You know a few ships do depart to Neverland on regular intervals despite the weather conditions so that is how I get my correspondences to happen quickly. The reason your sailors refuse to take trade material in this weather is because they aren’t as good of sailors as Neverland ones. For the people of Neverland, sailing is a necessity.”
“Right,” you agreed. “And?”
“I thought it was strange, but over the course of our… correspondences, Prince Jiwoong has been asking for updates on Wonderland. I thought he was interested in you first but it became clear that he was fishing for some information. I didn’t give much to him, but I think my error is that not long ago, I told him that Wonderland was concerned about an attack on the guests during their stay here. I’m so sorry, Princess. I did not know that it would turn out to be this bad and dangerous–”
“It’s okay,” you assured, caressing Sieun’s head. “Jiwoong could have guessed that either way. I think he just needed a target, and I’m sure there was not enough time for you or someone else to report to Jiwoong that Hongjoong was the first to leave, and for Jiwoong to arrange this attack. At least not this one– Hongjoong decided to leave only two days ago, so.”
“Does that mean that I’ll be safe?” Sieun asked.
“No,” you shook your head. “You need extra security now. I’m worried Jiwoong or the Neverland soldiers will take it out on you. I’ll make sure you'll be safe, just… try not to correspond right now?”
“I can do that,” Sieun agreed.
“Thank you for trusting me, Sieun,” you smiled affectionately. “It means a lot.”
“I can’t believe Jiwoong would do something like this…” Sieun bit her lips. “Will Hongjoong be okay?”
You looked at the young princess. She was as worried as everyone else, and perhaps the fact that she might have endangered Hongjoong would bother her until Hongjoong came back safely.
If he came back safely.
“Let’s all pray that he is,” you muttered, shaking your head and clenching your fists. “I’m going to make sure that he is. Don’t go out alone anymore, okay? You have to stay safe too.”
Sieun nodded and you left her room, accompanied by your guards to your own room.
Sleep did not come that night. With the princes out, you did not even bother getting into bed. You stayed on the couch, tossing and turning, waiting to hear back.
The first message you received was that they had found a trail of sorts. It appeared like Hongjoong had either gone somewhere or was taken by force– he had left something of his in the entire course of his path. Buttons from his dress, his ring, his jewellery– small, unnoticeable belongings. Yunho had followed it until it came to a stop at a certain location. The princes were going to search in the vicinity of that last spot now.
Either Hongjoong had run out of things to leave behind, or he had been unable to. You prayed that the former was the case.
Later that evening, you finally received a message. Hongjoong was being held hostage by a rebel group that Neverland was claiming to have no knowledge of. However, it was Sieun’s admission that had you thinking differently. Neverland– at least the embassy members here and not the royalty itself, in this case– definitely had everything to do with it.
Your parents were going to play safe because they were not aware. However, you were not going to sit still anymore.
“Princess,” your mother scolded. “It is dangerous for you to step outside. Hongjoong is Yunho’s responsibility now– I am sure that he will take care of it.”
“We are equally as responsible, if not more, mother,” you argued. Your father grunted in agreement or disapproval, you did not know. “I have information that the person who leaked the news of Hongjoong’s departure is a guard right here, in this castle. My source can recognise them. Do you understand the gravity of the situation now?”
“Then we pin it on the guard,” your father said. “If we shift the blame to Neverland, it is going to end badly, dear.”
“But Neverland is at fault, father,” you cried out. “The guard reported to the embassy. The embassy is Neverland’s representative here.”
“Royal involvement,” your father clarified. “There is no direct royal involvement.”
“But there is a political motive,” you reminded him. “Father… we have to threaten Neverland if we wish to get Hongjoong out of this alive. I… I cannot bear the thought of something happening to him. Please.”
Your mother inspected you closely while you fought back tears. By this point, your head hurt and your heart felt numb after aching for so long.
“I thought you liked Yunho,” she commented. “Was I wrong?”
“You were not,” you sighed. “This is not about who I like. This is a life, mother. The prince of Eden. Yunho’s closest friend. My best friend. He… he is my everything, please. Let me save him. Let me perform my duties.”
“If this goes wrong…”
“Then I will take responsibility,” you straightened, meeting eyes with the King. “I promise.”
“Go,” your mother said first, to your surprise. “But don’t do anything stupid, and keep Yunho by your side.”
“Okay, thank you– oh, goodness,” you cried out in relief. “Thank you.”
~
The Neverland embassy was situated not far from the castle, towards the east near the sea. It was an ideal location– close to the port to correspond with the Neverland natives who travelled back and forth regularly, to monitor trade and to conduct business with the royals and politicians of Wonderland.
You had visited here a few times, accompanying your father and your brother for meetings. Never did you think you would march here with soldiers and Yunho by your side, a black flag raised to indicate the severity of the matter.
The embassy members did not seem surprised. The foreign affairs minister of Neverland, Mr. Lee, welcomed you and Yunho with a restrained smile. You thought there was a knowing glint behind his eyes. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one involved– he was notorious for being a manipulative dealer, always extorting something beneficial even from the worst exchanges on the cost of anything but his own compromise or sacrifice.
“Tea?” He offered as he led you inside. You motioned the soldiers to stand by the door and you and Yunho did not take seats. You were to remain standing.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” you started. “Prince Kim Hongjoong of Eden is being held hostage by your embassy members.”
“A bold statement, Your Highness,” Mr. Lee commented. “Careful of your words– you never know when they will be used against you.”
“I have a message for Prince Jiwoong,” you ignored him and continued. This time, he paused while in the middle of pouring himself tea. It was just for a second, but enough for Yunho to notice and look at you in approval. “Tell the prince that if Prince Hongjoong is not returned to us unhurt within three days, there will be consequences.”
“Please, take a seat,” Mr. Lee said politely this time. Yunho urged you to accept his offer and you both sat yourselves across from him.
“You speak of consequences,” Mr. Lee commented.
“Well… The princes from Mist and Kiji are searching for their friend right now. The princess of the Kingdom of Hala is in my custody, safe. We have allies. I’m not sure Neverland has those right now.”
“From my understanding,” Mr. Lee began, “Prince Hongjoong left the castle two days ago, with a decoy. Is it not one of your guards then, that should be held accountable? Why would you assume that Neverland has something to do with it?”
“Come on, Mr. Lee,” Yunho smiled dangerously. “Let’s not pretend that Neverland is not antsy because of the recent trade conflict, and let’s not act like one of the royal guards was not a messenger delivering letters to someone here, who delivered those letters to Prince Jiwoong.”
Mr. Lee clenched his jaw, thinking. “It takes our sailors three days to make a one-way trip to Neverland. That’s too short a time frame that you demand.”
“We know that you have the best sailors,” you smirked. “From your words, if memory serves me right, your sailors can cross the waters in the worst conditions within a day and a half, right?”
By now, Mr. Lee was flushed heavily. He sipped his tea, unable to meet eyes.
“Then I suppose three days sounds about right. I’ll let the time touch the fourth day, if need be, as long as the prince is safe, but I swear that if I see a scratch on him–”
Yunho rested his hand over yours and you shut your mouth, seething. “He better be safe and sound, Mr. Lee. If I was you, I would be running to make sure nobody touches a hair on his body.”
With that, you and Yunho got up and left. You did not relax until you were back at the castle. The others had returned too– there was no point of a search party anymore. All you had to do was wait for Mr. Lee to arrange Hongjoong’s safe return.
You sat in Yunho’s arms, finally in privacy. Your maids and guards all left you alone tonight. They knew you needed each other, and they were not going to interfere.
“I have to do something,” Yunho sighed, caressing your arm. “I can’t just rely on Mr. Lee.”
“You have searched everywhere,” you reminded him. “Get some sleep tonight. You can leave early in the morning– make sure you eat something.”
“I don’t know,” Yunho sighed, tired. “I… do you know why Hongjoong was going back all of a sudden?”
Your heart sank but Yunho continued, his arms embracing you just a fraction tighter. “He was going to solve the matter of our hierarchy. He insisted that he would pass the crown to me. He said… he said that you deserved to be a queen and not just a princess.”
“Why does he think that I care about that?” You sniffed. “I just need you both alive and happy, like you always have been. It doesn’t matter who the king is.”
“That’s what I said, but he wouldn’t take a no for an answer,” Yunho said with a laugh. “He can be stubborn like that. He believes that I will make a great king, but he does not know how incredible of a leader he is. How selfless he is. I was going to pass the crown to him, but he decided to rush and beat me to it.”
“He should take this situation as a sign,” you joked. Yunho chuckled, agreeing.
You drew back, looking at Yunho properly. There were circles under his eyes and a scratch on his neck, perhaps from his search in the forest. You caressed his jaw lightly and moved to kiss his lips slowly, to offer some relief to him. He took it, his grip around you loose and undemanding.
“Hongjoong will return safely,” you assured after parting. “I believe it. You have to as well.”
“I believe it,” Yunho nodded. You smiled and kissed him some more before resting back in his arms.
At some point, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, drained. You were woken up by sharp knocks and your guard came rushing inside.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Prince, Princess,” he bowed. You shook your head, assuring him that he didn’t interrupt anything. “Mr. Lee has sent a message. They are releasing Prince Hongjoong. He asked you both to come to the embassy to retrieve the prince. He’s alive and well, Mr. Lee claims.”
You and Yunho looked at each other in surprise, sighing in relief and hugging each other, shedding tears of happiness. The guard watched you both fondly with a smile before dismissing himself.
“That was quicker than I expected,” Yunho kissed your forehead. “You certainly know how to play the game, Princess. Your threats worked.”
You sighed happily, getting up and reminding him that he should get ready as soon as possible. Within a matter of minutes, you both were on the way to the embassy, bracing yourselves for every possible situation. Things could still go wrong. You would not let your guard down until Hongjoong would return back to the castle.
Mr. Lee welcomed you both sombrely this time– none of his attitude in sight. You both marched inside and as soon as Yunho spotted Hongjoong, he was crushing him in a hug. You kept your emotions in check and stood watching with a mere hint of a smile on your face, your attention focused on Mr. Lee and alert for any suspicious activity from the guards.
“What about the people who attacked the prince?” You inquired.
“On the way to the court,” Mr. Lee assured. “I am sorry for the trouble, Princess. It appears that I should have kept my men in check, but I assure you that the royal family is not involved.”
You stifled a scoff. Like hell they weren’t.
“Ask your prince to clear his schedule and come for a meeting so that we can solve our conflicts once and for all,” you looked at Mr. Lee. “Prince Jiwoong is a friend. If he really is not involved in any of this, I will expect his presence soon.”
“Noted, Your Highness.”
You turned to look at the duo. Yunho was inspecting Hongjoong carefully while Hongjoong assured him that he was fine. He met eyes with you and you passed only a nod.
This was not the place for anything else.
Your way back was silent. Hongjoong rode with Yunho in one carriage, you with your guards in another. As soon as you entered the castle walls, he was bombarded with hugs and kisses and everything in between from the princes and princesses. You smiled at their interaction and excused yourself to report to your parents after which you went to your room.
You excused all your servants and stood by the window with tears in your eyes. Tears of relief, of happiness, everything. Hongjoong was safe.
He was okay. You saved him– you all did.
A knock sounded and you opened the door, surprised to find Yunho there.
“Is everything okay?” You asked. “Is Hongjoong okay? Did he get a medical checkup–”
“He’s fine,” Yunho assured you with a laugh. “I’m here to make sure that you are okay.”
“I… I am,” you said, sniffing. Your nose was still runny from all the crying earlier. Yunho raised a brow.
“Are you going to lie to my face now?”
“No… okay, I may have cried tears of happiness because Hongjoong made it back safely. A girl can cry, right?” You laughed lightly. Yunho wasn’t having any of it, though.
“Then how come you haven’t even said hello to him?”
You pursed your lips guiltily while Yunho folded his arms.
“How long are you going to avoid him?” Yunho asked. “How long are you going to pretend that you don’t love him?”
Someone must have snatched the ground from under your feet because you almost stumbled. “Yunho–”
“I’m not asking for an explanation,” Yunho shook his head. “Just… he’s here. Let him inside, my love. Stop creating walls around yourself– I don’t like you like this.”
Yunho did not wait for an answer. He motioned to who you assumed was Hongjoong. You turned before you could see him because you were sure that your eyes would give you away. Did Yunho know everything?
“I’m going to be in the study,” Yunho said after you heard the door close. “Take your time, and please… for the love of god, stop avoiding each other and stop avoiding your feelings.”
You heard Hongjoong grunt uncomfortably but Yunho left with a wink thrown in your direction. You were thoroughly confused.
“Hongjoong?” You whispered.
“I’m here,” he confirmed, moving closer behind you. “I’m sorry for making you so worried, my dear.”
“Don’t be,” you said, placing your hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. The tears were enough. You stood with your arms folded, unable to face the prince, unable to say anything. You had to get a grip, but it was too much–
Except that when you felt Hongjoong’s arms wrap around your waist, it was suddenly all okay. Your mind cleared and you sighed in relief, letting him embrace you. He rested his cheek against your head, his lips ghosting over your temple.
“I’m still sorry for parting like that,” Hongjoong said, nudging your cheek with the tip of his nose. Your back arched and you shut your eyes, drinking in every moment of this proximity. “It was reckless of me. That could have been our last conversation.”
“Don’t say that,” your voice was laced with pain. “Don’t you ever leave me like that, Joong.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, rocking you both back and forth for a few moments. “Won’t you look at me, love?”
It took immense effort to part. You turned in his embrace to face him and Hongjoong caressed your face lovingly. “You look like you were the hostage,” he teased. “I seem to be in a better condition than you.”
“Shut up,” you muttered. Hongjoong grinned, kissing your forehead affectionately. “Did they… did they hurt you?”
“It was a bloody mess at first,” Hongjoong told you. “But just a couple of bruises. They only meant to strike a deal using me but that clearly didn’t work because the princess decided to play smart.”
You observed Hongjoong closely. He did appear just fine– a bruise peeking on his chest, one on his wrist, probably some more covered by his clothes but he was fine. He was alive, safe, back in your arms.
You belonged here.
“You have no idea how scared I was,” you muttered. Now it was the anger speaking and Hongjoong’s smile fell. Your voice started to grow louder. “Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that, Kim Hongjoong. I swear to god that I will never speak to you if you leave me like this again– I… I could not sleep a wink! The thought of something happening to you– it would have been my fault, did you know that?”
“Princess–”
“Don’t you princess me!” You scolded him. From your peripheral, you could make out the distant figure of Yunho, probably stepping out to see if everything was alright. Hongjoong gripped you tighter while you tried to struggle away.
“You,” you smacked Hongjoong’s chest. “If something happened to you, I would have blamed myself for the rest of my life. Did you have to leave so soon? Was sharing the same space with me that difficult?”
“Of course not,” Hongjoong looked hurt. “I was being selfish.”
“Yes!” You smacked his chest again, hard, the corners of your lips drooping. “You’re a selfish, stupid man, Kim Hongjoong. Going to your kingdom to crown Yunho the king and make me the queen at what cost? At the cost of your life? At the cost of my love? I don’t need that title, Joong. I’m fine being stripped of all luxuries if that means you are alive and happy, did you realise that?”
“My dear–”
“How would I… how would I have lived with myself?” You finally sobbed and Hongjoong held back his own tears. “I gave my heart to you and Yunho, split perfectly in two. How would I have lived with only half of my heart? If you can’t love me back, you should have never made me miserable like this. I feel like a sinner everyday,” you sobbed, Yunho closer now, also overwhelmed by your confession. “I feel like a sinner. I’m undeserving and selfish because I decided that if I can’t have you both, I… I would have none of you. It will kill me.”
You sobbed violently now, tired. There seemed to be no end to this pain, to the steps your heart had taken. Hongjoong looked at Yunho, helpless. Yunho smiled sadly, urging Hongjoong to hold you so he did. He wrapped you in his embrace and sank to the ground, letting you cry your heart out until you passed out in his arms from exhaustion, showered by kisses and pecks from both the princes who had huddled close to you.
“I did not realise how painful this was for her,” Hongjoong spoke in a low volume, caressing your hair. You were sound asleep now– apparently, you had not slept this whole time save for the few hours with Yunho this morning. “I am a foolish man, it seems.”
“Now you see why I search for a solution,” Yunho was warming your hands. He kissed your fingertips softly. “I can’t let her go. I know you can’t either. I know that she will not let either of us go.”
“There is no solution,” Hongjoong looked at Yunho. “You both marry each other, while I watch from the sidelines.”
“But… what if we change that?”
Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “I know that look in your eyes. Scheming.”
“Listen,” Yunho shook his head. “I read probably every book and record in the library, searching for an instance like this. The only recorded ones are of kings with their several mistresses. If there was an instance of a queen or a princess having more than one partner, it is never mentioned.”
“For good reasons,” Hongjoong reminded the younger prince. “The world is cruel enough to women as it is.”
Yunho nodded. “If y/n is willing and if you are… I am open to a relationship like this, Joong.”
“Like what?”
“This,” Yunho motioned between them. The princes’ legs were almost tangled while you nested between them. “I really don’t mind such a relationship since it’s you.”
Hongjoong’s cheeks flushed at the possibility. He watched you and Yunho for a long time– how you held his hands subconsciously even in your sleep.
“This is… surprising, to say the least,” Hongjoong started. “I’ve known you as a relatively reserved person, Yunho. Someone who respected the traditions of chastity and whatnot. Do you understand the implications of your offer? If word gets out, we might be stripped of our titles. All of us.”
“I understand,” Yunho assured. “I think it’s high time we put an end to this stupid tradition. When you become the king, you can do that.”
“I will not become the king–”
“You will,” Yunho shook his head. “Everything aside, there is no better leader for the Kingdom of Eden. It has to be you.”
“They will ask me to marry,” Hongjoong reminded him. “They will ask for offsprings.”
“She can decide who she would like to marry, and if she would ever like to have children,” Yunho kissed your hands again. “But I will let her know that I’m open to this kind of a relationship for the rest of my life. If she accepts… we will work out the technicals later.”
“I don’t know if you’re being gracious or being stupid,” Hongjoong scoffed. “This… this is reckless.”
“Neither,” Yunho almost smirked. “You know I hate to lose.”
Hongjoong raised a brow. “This is not funny.”
Yunho took a deep breath. “I would hate to lose either of you, okay?” He admitted. “I don’t want to part from her. I know she won’t part from me either. If this was anyone else, I would have fought back, but it’s you. I can’t lose you either. I know that if we decide to marry, you will create a wall and I will finally lose when I fail to break it or climb past it. I…”
Yunho took Hongjoong’s hand this time. Hongjoong looked at him in surprise.
“You are my best friend, and I love you dearly,” Yunho confessed. “You are my soulmate. You get me like no one else. You accept me for who I am. I cannot live without you, and I cannot live with the idea of you being so close yet so far away. I will give you anything you ask me to. If you asked me to give y/n up, I would have genuinely considered it. The decision is still hers– if she decides to leave me for you, I will accept it wholly, but if she decides to be with both of us, then there’s nothing better for me. I trust you with my heart and my soul, Joong.”
Hongjoong was overwhelmed. He squeezed Yunho’s hand after a moment, conveying everything that he could not with his eyes. Yunho smiled and shifted so that he was on the floor, his head resting on Hongjoong’s lap with you in his arms between them.
“Isn’t this nice?” Yunho asked. Hongjoong rested his back against the couch, finally chuckling. “We could spend the rest of our lives like this, the three of us. Think about it while I sleep. I haven’t really slept either.”
While Yunho closed his eyes and immediately passed out, Hongjoong watched him for a long time, caressing his hair now. His other half. That is who Yunho was.
Could this be possible? For the three of you to spend the rest of your lives in each other's arms?
At some point, Yunho and Hongjoong left the room. It would have been unwise to stay. However, the two had a talk with you the very next day and Yunho offered you something almost unbelievable.
The two were going to leave soon, with the rest of the guests. Now that Neverland had accepted Wonderland’s demands to put a temporary halt on trade out of pure fear, things had finally calmed down. Hongjoong personally thanked Sieun for helping him out and you could tell that the weight was off her shoulders now. There was a celebration party and for the first time in a while, you had fun without worrying about anyone else.
It was a memory you would remember forever. Hongjoong and Yunho dancing with each other in the most silly manner, Wooyoung and you in a tango laughing your heads off, San and Minjeong making fun of Jongho’s charade while Jeongin and Sieun gave more ideas. Drinks circulated around and music filled everyone’s hearts. The adults let you all be, though you were sure that after tonight, they would be keeping an eye on San and Minjeong. There was certainly something going on there.
The farewell was a happy one. They all left within the same day at different times. You were appreciated for your hospitality and for your courage. You were invited everywhere and you promised everyone that you would definitely visit soon. They had offered their assistance while searching for Hongjoong and you would be forever grateful for that. You decided to personally visit everyone with gifts and thank them over the course of the next few months.
Yunho and Hongjoong gave you 4 months time to think. One of them would become the crown prince within 2 months, though they would not descend the throne until the current King gave away his crown or passed away. None of them were in a rush, but the crown prince had to be decided. They allowed you to choose your partner after that.
Partner. Or partners.
You had a choice to choose them both without judgement.
It was daunting. Yunho and Hongjoong explained to you in depth what it would entail. The discussion took place in a good few sittings so that everyone would be clear of the dynamics if you decided to accept them both.
If Hongjoong was the next king, which he seemed to finally come to terms with– you suspected Yunho had threatened him with something but really, Hongjoong was the one for the role– he would be required to have children, but there were exceptions. Hongjoong could pass the crown to Yunho at any point in his life, or one of Yunho’s children, if any.
Yunho and Hongjoong were both adamant that they would not marry or have more partners in case that you decided to have them both as partners. You argued that they could change their mind but the look in their eyes, the sincerity… it made you think otherwise.
In any case, you would have to marry one of them. If you marry Hongjoong, you would be obligated to have his child. If you married Yunho, you would not be obligated to have children. You told them that you did intend to have a family in future. You did not intend to let the royal bloodline of Eden die like this– this was risking a lot. If the people of Eden saw that there were no heirs anymore, it could get bad.
So you made them promise that in case you were not able to bear children, the unmarried one would get married for the sake of a family. They would look for love, marry and have children. Though they hated the idea of it right now, you told them that if they could accept you with two partners, you could certainly do the same– for the sake of their kingdom. For the sake of a peaceful life.
Now, it was time for you to decide who to marry.
It took a lot of thinking to get to a decision. If you married Hongjoong, Yunho would be left with neither the title nor a wife. That seemed unfair to Yunho, especially after all your promises to marry him. Hongjoong had talked to you in private and urged you to marry Yunho if you really did not care for the title of the queen after all.
So when you made the decision, you sent two letters. One addressed to Yunho, and one addressed to Hongjoong, both containing just two words.
I do.
It was a chaotic start to the big day of Hongjoong’s coronation as the next king of the Kingdom of Eden.
The three of you could hardly get any sleep. Hongjoong’s restlessness was valid but Yunho and you both were perhaps as nervous as him, and heaps more excited. Yunho was extremely happy to see Hongjoong become the king. He insisted that Hongjoong was a natural leader and that he would make a far better ruler than Yunho ever could. Hongjoong insisted otherwise. You agreed with both– the two had full potential to become great kings, but even to you, Hongjoong’s coronation felt very natural.
The three of you spent the night in each other’s arms. Hongjoong shared his worries and anxieties about the future and how the weight of the crown felt heavy already. Yunho promised to share his burden, create a bond like their fathers who had shared the crown as well. You spent hours caressing Hongjoong’s hair to comfort him.
This was becoming a routine– spending the night together, the three of you. After your marriage to Yunho, this was your new home, right between the two of them. Your chamber was designed by Hongjoong to be between his and Yunho’s, with a door in your bedroom opening to your husband’s for convenience.
A door in your study opened to Hongjoong’s study. As his personal advisor, this was also for convenience, though it served another purpose– Hongjoong sharing your bed.
It took you a while to get used to these new dynamics. After spending your whole life believing that being reserved and suppressing your desires was the acceptable way to live, especially as a royal figure, breaking the old tradition was not an easy feat. Simply kissing Yunho and being with Hongjoong had felt like a sin earlier. It took you a while to learn that being with the both of them was okay.
Sure, you had to be careful. For the public, Yunho was your husband and it was going to stay that way. You had no desire to explain yourself to anyone. Yunho and Hongjoong both wanted you. You all wanted each other. That was enough to last you a lifetime.
Anyone who thought that there was something between you and Hongjoong would easily dismiss their thoughts since Yunho was so obviously in love with you. His eyes dripped with unfiltered affection whenever he looked at you, especially now that you were his wife. He was proud of you and flaunted you publicly. And he loved Hongjoong dearly too. The public may have been curious about the relationship between the three of you at first but now, they just believed what you made them see– that the three of you were tightly knit and loved and respected each other.
It was out of that respect and love that Yunho urged Hongjoong to take the crown. Even after your deal of marrying Yunho so that Hongjoong could be the king, Hongjoong was unsure. He insisted that he did not need the crown and that he would spend a happy life as the second prince to Yunho. Yunho, however, was not going to rest until Hongjoong became king. It was possible that he felt obligated to give Hongjoong something– after all, he had taken you as his wife. He would not be selfish and take the crown too.
Hongjoong joked that if he never had children, the crown would be going back to Yunho’s bloodline, but that was a later problem. Right now, Hongjoong needed to become the next king of Eden. His parents wanted to crown him in their lifetime, and Yunho’s parents wished to see a coronation in their lifetime too.
It was no wonder that Yunho and Hongjoong were the way they were– so full of love. Their parents were very close. It was rare to have such a bond when rivalry arose even among siblings. You vowed to yourself that if Hongjoong ever married someone, especially with the intention of having his own children, that you would love and accept them as the princes accepted you despite your unusual desire to have them both.
This was the first step towards crowning Hongjoong. He would become king– was he not a king already, you wondered? His thoughts and words were meticulous, his steps grand and his demeanour composed. He called you ‘my queen’. In your heart, he had always been the king.
You smiled at the thought and then realised that you were zoning out again. Yeosang, Yunho’s Right Hand, waited for a moment before calling your name.
“I think you need to find Prince Hongjoong,” he started, looking around. “He needs to wait in the next room– the event is about to start.”
“He’s probably hiding in one of his spots again,” Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s Right Hand, said with a sigh. “I need to welcome the foreign guests. Do you mind searching for him, Princess? Or should I send one of the guards?”
“No, I’ll go,” you assured him. You and Seonghwa both knew that Hongjoong did not like to be interrupted when he went into ‘hiding’. Sending a guard might spoil his mood, especially when he was so sensitive these days. “I just need to find Mingi, greet the guests that have arrived, make sure the king and the queen are seated, find Yunho’s parents–”
“Relax,” Mingi interrupted with a laugh and you sighed happily.
“That’s one thing off my list.”
“You can greet the guests later– get Hongjoong. And maybe find Yunho too,” Mingi sighed. “What am I the advisor for when he never takes my advice?”
“Never is an overstatement,” you winked at Mingi. “I’ll give him an earful.”
Mingi bowed sarcastically and you took off, gathering the fabric of your burgundy velvet gown in your hands and speed-walking towards his private library. That is probably where Hongjoong would be–
Except the library was empty. The roof, maybe? You thought and sent one of the guards ahead to ask the guards stationed at the roof’s entrance and confirm if the crown prince was there. A no came for an answer and you stood thinking.
These were two of his favourite spots to be alone at. The third was in a corner of the garden but you reckoned that he wouldn’t be there today.
Was he in his room then?
With unsure steps, you walked towards the section of the castle where all three of you had your chambers, next to each other. Hongjoong had contributed to many architectural changes over the course of the years but this one was probably his most thoughtful work. He had corresponded with you a lot to make sure you had everything you needed.
You told him that you simply needed the two of them by your sides, and he made that happen.
You went to your chamber. It was empty save for the guards outside. You decided to access Hongjoong’s chamber through the door that connected your studies, but a shadow in the corner of your eye caught your attention–
Someone was in your room.
You walked with guarded steps this time, relaxing instantly when you saw that it was Hongjoong. He was standing in front of your mirror, fixing his clothes and attempting to straighten his collar but struggling.
“Here,” you called gently, moving to fix it for him. He was caught by surprise but allowed you to smoothen his clothes. You ran your hands over the expanse of his chest when you were done, looking him in the eyes.
“Everyone’s trying to find you,” you said. “Yet you’re here in my room. I looked for you in your usual spots.”
“They didn’t feel comfortable today,” Hongjoong admitted, looking at himself in the mirror again. “This room… it’s warm. It is like a cocoon. I feel like I can hide here and be myself.”
Your heart melted at his words. For your room to feel like his safe space… you sighed happily.
“Are you very nervous?” You asked the obvious and a small smile tugged at his lips. “What’s taking you so long this time? I thought you would steel your nerves and be present beforehand.”
Hongjoong took a deep breath. “I just keep wondering if I’m really fit to be the king. I… I am not like anyone of my predecessors, y/n. I will make changes to the kingdom, its laws and its traditions that my subjects might not like. What if I… what if I let everyone down?”
You cradled Hongjoong’s jaw and kissed his lips gently.
“I am sure of one thing, and that is that you strive to make this kingdom feel like a safe space for all of your subjects,” you said. “That makes you the most empathetic king in history already.”
Hongjoong chuckled. You heard shuffling and soon, Yunho joined the two of you, leaning against the doorframe and watching you both with adoration.
“Tell him that he is going to be a great king,” you urged Yunho.
“He knows it, and that is what scares him,” Yunho commented and Hongjoong gave him a look. You supposed that Yunho got that right. “To achieve great things, you must be prepared for some amount of pushback. Isn’t that what you always said to me?”
Hongjoong nodded. You watched him struggle with his internal conflict for a few moments, his hands in yours clenching and unclenching as he caught his breath.
“I guess I’m just overwhelmed…” Hongjoong admitted, looking between you two. “I’m afraid to disappoint the two of you the most.”
“Oh, Hongjoong,” you sighed, looking helplessly at Yunho. Yunho appeared surprised to hear that too.
“You’ve never disappointed me, Hongjoong. Not even once, you hear me?” Yunho assured, a fire in his eyes. “I don’t like that you think that. You know that I am with you every step of the way. You really aren’t alone in this, Joong.”
“The title is heavy,” you agreed with Hongjoong, “but we are both with you to share the burden. You won’t be alone. You will always, always have us. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”
“Always?” Hongjoong looked at you, the most vulnerable you had seen him.
You nodded. He looked at Yunho and he nodded as well, stepping closer.
Hongjoong sank to one knee in front of you, taking your hands and kissing both of them.
“You will forever be my queen,” Hongjoong reminded you. “Just because I wear the crown does not mean that there will be distance between us.”
“Of course,” your heart fluttered at his words. He looked up at you with a smile and then looked at Yunho.
“And you…” Hongjoong took a deep breath, reaching out for him. Yunho sat down in front of him, now at eye-level. “You will always be my king, Yunho. I may be everyone else’s king but you… you will be mine.”
Yunho was awestruck. He shook his head in disbelief and Hongjoong set his hands on his shoulders firmly. You patted Yunho’s back, letting your hand rest there in comfort.
“It’s that simple, Yunho,” Hongjoong smiled. “I’m grateful to you for a lot of things–”
“Please,” Yunho’s voice was thick with emotions. “You need to stop using such words as grateful.”
“You know that I’ll always be, because the two of you didn’t leave me alone,” Hongjoong confessed and you felt an ache in your heart. You wished to comfort him and tell him that it wasn’t something he needed to be grateful for. You both loved him, it was just that. “I always imagined watching you both from the sidelines. Allow me some time to come to terms with the fact that you both wanted me in your life as much as I wanted you both in mine.”
Yunho nodded. Time… he could give him that, if only it meant that Hongjoong would stop acting like he owed him his life.
“If I was alone and became the next king, it would have crushed me,” Hongjoong admitted. “But now… I can go and walk with my shoulders straight, knowing that you two have my back.”
“That’s enough,” Yunho chuckled uncomfortably, not used to such compliments from Hongjoong even after all this time. “I get it. You love us.”
The three of you laughed and Hongjoong shook his head. “Yeah, I suppose that it sums everything up. I love you both.”
Yunho smiled. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hongjoong’s in a long, meaningful kiss. They joined foreheads and remained like that for a few moments, each of them holding your hands as you settled next to them.
“Are you ready to bear the crown, Hongjoong?” You asked.
Seeing the switch in his eyes when he confirmed that he was ready was one thing, but watching him walk in the coronation hall with his posture straight and head held high was something else entirely. You and Yunho waited for him at the front. The current king, Hongjoong’s father, recited the vows as Hongjoong walked. Once he was at the front, he turned and bowed to everyone.
“Are you ready to bear the crown, Kim Hongjoong?” His father asked.
“I am ready,” Hongjoong responded, voice unwavering.
“Then step up and receive the crown.”
Hongjoong bowed deeply to his father. He stepped on the podium and walked to the two of you. Yunho went first, putting his father’s ring on Hongjoong’s index finger– a family heirloom. You went next, putting on the king’s cloak on his shoulder, Yunho helping with the lapels.
Once you were done, you met his eyes. You shared a nod and he went to the queen next, receiving a motherly kiss before going to his father.
The audience seemed to hold their breath as the king took off his crown and put it on Hongjoong’s head. Unsurprisingly, it fit perfectly.
“Kneel to your subjects, King Kim Hongjoong of the Kingdom of Eden. This is the first and the last time you will ever kneel to your subjects.”
Hongjoong took to the centre and bent down, kneeling on the ground and bowing with his head. Just like that, the coronation was complete. The audience cheered enthusiastically– long live the king.
Hongjoong stood up and found the two of you again, going into the middle and taking your hands and squeezing. You both smiled at him and Hongjoong was finally able to breathe.
Soon, you were joined by the princes and princesses from all over the continent. All of your friends were present– Wooyoung, San and Jongho, Minjeong and Sieun, even Jiwoong from Neverland. Jeongin and your family, as well as the royals that left their kingdoms in pursuit of love. Surrounded by your people, you felt at ease. Hongjoong felt the same, loosening up once the boys started to joke around about him being the first friend to be crowned king.
The night ended on a festive note, but it wasn’t truly complete until the three of you got comfortable in your true home– in each other’s arms.
a/n: there is a deleted smut scene this time but due to lack of space in this post, i couldn't post it and i did not want to split this into two parts. if you want to read it, you'll have to lmk ;) it's ft. both yunho and hongjoong so um best of both worlds ig jkfgdg
summary: when you let a younger man flirt with you at your close friends’ wedding, seungcheol refuses to let it go.
word count: 8.3k
tags: established relationship, jealousy, flirting, hard dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, dirty talk, humiliation (it's not severe but that's subjective), masturbation, spanking, blindfolding, restraints, sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, safeword/safeword usage (close enough, so including), light angst, unprotected sex, comfort, subspace, lots of aftercare and endearments, it's wild but not too extreme?, definitely ends well, cameo by keeho from P1H lol
*just to be clear, this is an established relationship between consenting adults who know each other well*
read on AO3: say sorry (#2 in the say it right series)
SYNOPSIS. Choi Seungcheol has always been about structure, authority, and control, loyal to his duty in a city where criminal situations become a matter of life or death. On the other hand, you’re reckless𑁋seemingly guided more by your instinct and heart than the rules you’re meant to follow. But as duty forces you both together, Seungcheol finds the protocol he’s bound to stand by begin to bend.
PAIRING. sergeant/tactical officer!choi seungcheol x rookie officer!fem!reader (ft. officer!lee jihoon but he's mentioned as a plot device, mention of detective!wonwoo)
GENRE. coworkers/ideological enemies to lovers, angst, smut (minors dni 🔞), fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, action, police au
WARNINGS. unrealistic portrayal of a police department, guns, violence, blood, injuries (both cheol & reader get hurt at some point), cursing, scars, crimes being committed (robbery, arson, attempted murder, domestic abuse, car chase, illegal narcotics), suicide-by-cop situation, instances of police brutality, workplace toxicity & misogyny, reader taking shit from NO ONE, basically reader vs the system, discussions of trauma, alcohol consumption, kissing, cheol having dirty thoughts, smut warnings in part two
WORD COUNT. 17.3k (for part one); 37k
notes: AHHH its finally out!!! kinda scared for this one ngl... but i had so much fun writing it !!!! police officer!cheol.... you've been on my mind for like 2 years and i finally had the guts to write u. could've made this a thirsty cop romance but unfortunately i love trauma and angst sorry guys 😭 thank u to @slytherinshua for reading this over 4 me and screaming at me + @etherealyoungk as always for listening to me yap yap yap and feeding my delusions. i plan for part two to be released next week! the taglist is still open for this fic so lmk if you want to be tagged for the second part. please don't forget to reblog as i'd love to know ur thoughts <3
part one | part two
“Protocol is established as a means to keep you alive. If you aren’t loyal to how we work, then congratulations, you’ve just killed yourself.”
Those are the first words that come out of Sergeant Choi Seungcheol’s mouth in the early days of your job as a police officer.
No, it wasn’t directed specifically towards you. Not exactly.
He’d announced it to a room full of rookies just like you. You remembered the room being too small to fit every single one of you inside. You also remembered the immediate, collective breath of silence when Seungcheol had walked in. It was enough to even make that one cocky rookie in the back to stop chewing his gum. Even though the meeting was meant to be part of some welcome briefing to the field, it felt more like a warning instead.
Choi Seungcheol was the kind of officer you write about in training manuals. The literal textbook definition of tactical perfection. He isn’t just one of the most respected officers in the precinct, but also one of the most feared. You’ve heard all of the rumours before you even got your official badge in the force: that he’s never once missed a shot with his gun, that he’s stopped a three-story hostage situation in less than ten minutes, that he became the youngest officer in the city to get promoted to Sergeant. You’ve heard about it all.
During your shadowing, you watched behind the one-way glass as he interrogated suspects with nothing but a calm face and a sharp tongue. You watched how he won’t even flinch when criminals would lash out at him with drunken rage and elusive words. You’ve seen rookies assigned under him dash away with their tail between their legs because even arguing back with him is something no one even dares to try.
Everyone says he’s never let anyone close to him. Others never ask about his personal life because he runs his schedule on a constant lockdown and he isn’t seeing anyone because he’s practically married to his job. But you know that even steel can bend under the right amount of heat.
He’s respected, sure. Admired, even. But liked? That’s an entirely different story.
You consider yourself at the opposite end of that spectrum.
Sometimes, you let your heart get in the way. There have been a few instances where your superiors would criticise how you chose negotiation instead of drawing your firearm as intended. Because you’ve always trusted your gut more than anything, even if that means putting your life on the line to save another.
You’ve been told it’s a flaw in this world𑁋that you care too and feel too much, that your gut instinct makes you reckless. And to someone like Sergeant Choi Seungcheol who seems to view the world in black and white, that kind of impulsiveness is a threat.
You remind yourself that you’re lucky you haven’t been assigned to work under him… yet.
Your first real conversation with him happens at the training centre. Three months later.
Today is shooting drills. A standard protocol that officers have to complete every quarter. You find yourself in the farthest lane, a G19 clutched in your hand, the grip warm against your palm. The sharp sounds of other officers firing their guns is muffled through your headset. The training centre reeks of the smell of gunpowder and lead. You’ve already emptied two full magazines and the time to rotate is nearly over.
So you roll your shoulders, take in a deep breath, and prepare your stance.
Exhaling slowly, you raise the gun at the target, and fire.
The recoil from the gun snaps back into your wrist, making your stance wobble slightly. But as you narrow your gaze down at the target ahead, you spot that the bullet hit just a pinch left off the centre mass. Not a full miss, but it still doesn’t feel enough for you.
Lowering the gun for a moment, you glance at the other lanes. Some officers are more seasoned than you, others closer to your beginner field. A few officers are chatting amongst each other in the corner while others are reloading in silence.
Yet at the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar, looming presence stepping between each booth.
You observe Sergeant Choi Seungcheol as he moves silently with his hands behind his back, quietly observing some officers like a shadow. He isn’t barking out orders or making a show of authority, but every single person in the room straightens up whenever he nears. You watch his lips move as he pauses to talk, probably offering critiques with a few nods here and there. A few instances he even leans in to correct someone’s tense stance, before moving on to the next person.
Flitting your eyes back to your own target, you raise the gun once again, and fire. It hits slightly more centre, but not entirely. A grimace forms at your lips. You fire again, again, and again, yet every single one seems to miss the point by just barely millimetres.
As you reload the gun and lock the magazine in place with a snap, a voice makes you pause.
“Your grip has too much wrist in it.”
The words don’t fully register at first, especially when the shadow behind you steps even closer. Close enough for the temperature in the room to increase and for your pulse to flutter in your throat. Close enough you’re able to feel it more instead of hear it.
You turn your head just enough to see him. He wears his uniform like armour, as if it’s part of his skin. His shoulders are squared, one of his hands resting by his duty belt, and the nameplate at his chest gleams under the harsh lighting of the training facility. Your eyes lock for a split second, and it’s intense enough that you straighten your spine instinctively.
There’s no softness in his expression, yet no harshness as well𑁋just that same cold detachment he always wears. But it still feels as if you’re being pinned to the wall with nothing but a simple glance. His presence alone seems to demand precision, like it dares you to screw up just so he can see how you recover.
Seungcheol’s eyes flicker downward to your stance.
“Try again,” he instructs sternly.
You offer a steady nod. “Yes, sir.”
However, when you bring the gun back up and zero in on the paper target ahead, your body is tense for entirely different reasons and the gun feels heavier than usual. Nonetheless, you suppress the thoughts aside, readjust your stance, plant your feet to the floor, and attempt to pretend that the room is empty with only you and the target.
And Seungcheol, apparently.
You fire.
Just ahead, the bullet tears through the paper, hitting the centre mass, but still just the tiniest bit off. A casual person may think it’s a perfect shot, but it’s clear that Seungcheol doesn’t have the eyes like any ordinary human. And judging by the subtle shift in his posture, he doesn’t look pleased at all. He takes in everything𑁋your breathing, your stance, your barely concealed frustration.
Then he steps closer to you. You feel the warmth from him radiate onto your back.
“May I?”
The way his voice drops sends goosebumps crawling underneath your uniform and up your neck. You can’t tell if it’s from nerves or something else.
When you glance back up at him, it hits you just how damn close he is.
You swallow the lump in your throat. “Go ahead, sir.”
Seungcheol leans in even further, his chest momentarily brushing against your back. He reaches out to your shoulder, before slowly𑁋torturously𑁋dragging his fingers from your tricep to your forearm, skimming at the edges of your sleeve to guide in your elbow gently.
“Relax,” he murmurs quietly, and you swear his voice hits you like a whisper right next to your ear. “I’ll always ask before I touch you, yeah?”
The words land softly around you. His tone isn’t authoritative𑁋not entirely, at least𑁋but it carries that same precision of boundary he uses with everyone else.
For a few moments, Seungcheol doesn’t move, his hand lingering for perhaps a second longer than intended at your elbow, his fingertips softly grazing against your skin there. You hear his breath even out at your nape, before he starts adjusting your arm with the smallest hint of movement. By degrees, not inches.
“Your grip is good, but your wrist is taking in all the recoil,” he tells you, coaxing your muscles to loosen with a small tap at your forearm. “In this line of work, tension is your enemy. Don’t fight the shock𑁋absorb it instead. You can’t let the weapon have control over you.”
The palm of his other hand then lands gently on your lower back, his warmth seeping through the crevices of your uniform. Your posture stiffens from the pressure as his fingers press into the space between your shoulder blades. It’s not inappropriate or invasive, yet there’s a strange kind of intimacy in the way he aligns your body under his expectations, as if he’s done it a hundred times already.
“Your spine is stiff as a statue,” Seungcheol remarks, a sliver of amusement behind his words. “Loosen your upper body a bit.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but fail anyway. He notices. “Kind of hard to do it with a Sergeant glued to my six.”
“Then pretend I’m not here.”
“Easier said than done,” You retort back without thinking. “You march around the place like a ticking grenade.”
He huffs a breath at that. Not fully a laugh, but just barely crossing into that territory. A chuckle, maybe. Or a scoff, most likely. You think this is the first time you’ve ever heard that kind of sound leave his mouth.
Seungcheol leans in again, this time letting his palm drag from your lower back and down to the curve of your hip. His touch is as light as a feather, barely there at your waistband, pressing just enough to tilt your stance enough so that your weight is distributed to both sides of your body equally.
“Don’t lean too forward,” he instructs smoothly. “You can’t let yourself anticipate the shot. When you do, you’ll lock up, which throws off your aim in the field.”
You allow yourself to yield under his touch, starting to feel everything coming into balance now.
“Now breathe in, and let everything get quiet,” Seungcheol says.
You do as he says, and suddenly everything feels more sharper and clearer around you. Your breathing settles and your heartbeat begins to slow. Behind you, Seungcheol does the same, as if he’s manifesting the grip of the gun through your hand.
“Good. That’s it.” The simple praise heightens your encouragement, his voice low as if only you are meant to hear it. Seungcheol steps away from you now, but the heat of him still lingers around you. “Finally, squeeze the trigger, and fire.”
When the gun shoots, you immediately feel the difference.
The recoil snaps back into your wrist once again, but you’re stable enough so that your body moves with the shot instead of resisting and messing up your stance. And when you gaze ahead at the target, the bullet cuts through the middle. Dead centre mass.
A hum of approval from Seungcheol behind buzzes through your ears.
“Again.”
You fire. It hits the centre again.
“One more time.”
You squeeze the trigger and shoot one last time. The paper target jolts from the force, and you blink at the perfect hole you formed through the torso. Lowering the gun, you turn your head to look at him, already seeing him standing with his hands clasped behind him and his dark eyes shifting from the torn target and back to your face.
“Better,” Seungcheol says simply.
And damn, it’s only a singular word, yet it feels like an entire sentence from him.
You tilt your head slightly at him, your breathing regulating. “Just better?”
Seungcheol lifts a thick brow. “Do you want a gold star?”
“That was a lot of instruction for just one word of feedback, Sergeant.”
“Would you rather I say nothing at all?”
You shake your head while unloading the empty magazine and placing the gun at the ledge for the next officer in rotation to use. Seungcheol is still watching you closely, his gaze following your movements. Not in a judgmental manner, but moreso… curious.
“Coming from you, sir,” You begin coyly with a shrug. “A little more praise wouldn’t hurt.”
That’s what seems to get him𑁋almost gets him. You catch the way his jaw ticks and how the corners of his lips twitch up like he’s trying to hold back a smile of his own. You don’t exactly mean to tease, but for some reason the thought of pushing his buttons just a little sends a thrill of amusement underneath your skin that you don’t entirely hate.
“Mouthy little thing,” Seungcheol grumbles under his breath, his own head shaking like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation right now. Or if he can’t decide whether you’re fearless or stupid.
You both don’t realise how long you’ve been holding eye contact until the last officer in your rotation fires their last bullet and unloads the gun. You step aside for the next officer to take your place, slipping your headphones off your ears and letting it rest around your shoulders. Seungcheol clears his throat right beside you.
“You’re dismissed,” he says finally. “Good work, officer.”
Before you can respond, Seungcheol is already walking away from you. Even after whatever the hell you both just shared, he still moves like a man with control woven into every cell in his body.
Still, you managed to get another two words of praise out of him, and that in itself feels more than just a victory.
It’s 0700 by the time the new evaluations and assignments come out. It’s a monthly process where the superiors of the department evaluate the rookie officers under a certain set of criteria: performance metrics, communication skills, competency, and final notes typed out at the very end that could very well signal your impending doom or whether you’ve achieved a step closer to not being at the bottom of the food chain anymore. Assignments determine what unit you’ll be in, and most importantly𑁋for rookies𑁋which senior officer you’ll be partnered up with for the next quarter.
There’s a thick stack of papers sitting in the department inbox, which is already swarmed by other rookies colliding into each other while trying to find their names. You stay closer to the back, waiting until the crowd has mostly cleared out, before rummaging through the letters and finding your name. When you retrieve it, you saunter past all the groans of disappointment from the rest of your cohort and into the more quiet bubble of the locker room.
Your fingers hesitate for a second on the sealed envelope, unsure of why you’re suddenly feeling nervous. You’ve already suffered enough being partnered with a few incompetent senior officers who wouldn’t even remotely glance at you unless they were screaming orders or blamed you for being too emotional and your supposedly poor communication skills.
You realise that whatever your next assignment is could indeed change the trajectory of your career in a snap.
Peeling the flap open, you reach into the envelope and pull out the tri-folded paper, and let your eyes scan over the basic details at the very top. Like your name, your rank, and the name of the senior officer you were assigned with last quarter ordered to evaluate you𑁋who you personally dislike since he made you feel more like his personal maid than a police officer. A man with over ten years of experience who made you fetch his lunch almost every shift claiming that it helped you “learn how to serve the unit”. You figured his evaluation would be shallow at best; condescending and passive aggressive at worst.
You snort through your nose at the words. It wasn’t bad𑁋you expected your evaluation to appear like this. Officer Jiho pretty much never liked when you had your own mind.
You lower your gaze down to the final notes at the bottom of the paper.
Final Notes: Borders on impulsiveness when working on the field. Though technically proficient, Officer L/N has a tendency to go “off-script” at times when dealing with emotionally charged scenarios which undermines operational coherence. Has been issued a few warnings regarding failure to adhere to protocol.
Then your eyes lower upon the final line of the evaluation.
Hereby recommending reassignment with Sergeant Choi Seungcheol to help reinforce standard procedure and develop more disciplined judgment, effective immediately.
You blink down at the paper. Once. Twice. Three times, as if his name will disappear from the page and you’re just hallucinating from your lack of caffeine this morning.
You got partnered up with Seungcheol? Out of all senior officers in the precinct, you got paired up with the man who is quite literally impossible to please and would break you over the slightest hint of error. God forbid, you know you don’t want to know what his bad side looks like.
But somewhere deep inside you, you always knew this would be a possibility, right? Hell, maybe a part of you had been bracing it ever since he stood so close to you at the shooting range a month ago and left behind a trail of heat that never truly faded. Ever since he complimented you and his edge softened for just a miniscule moment.
Tightening your grip on the paper, you stand up and march out of the locker room. And immediately, you’re greeted with a plethora of whispers from other officers all wondering who Seungcheol’s next target is.
“Doesn’t Sergeant Choi practically eat rookies for breakfast?”
“They’ll be lucky if they even last a week.”
“Is it the one Officer Jiho wrote up because she told him to fuck off in the debrief room?”
You scurry past all of them and down the hallway with your head down low, the whispers crawling over your skin like static. You clutch the folded envelope tighter towards your chest as your thoughts continue to spiral, nails creasing into the paper enough to potentially rip through it if you tried.
You don’t stop moving until you round the corner and then𑁋thud.
You find yourself colliding into something𑁋or rather, someone𑁋solid, tall, and broad that you might as well have run into a concrete wall. A hard chest knocks against your shoulder and your balance tips almost completely. You jolt back from the impact, barely managing to steady yourself before a strong hand reaches out and catches you by the elbow.
“Watch it,” comes a gruff voice.
Your head lifts back up, and time suddenly stops.
Because of fucking course it’s him. Sergeant Choi Seungcheol in his stone-like glory. He isn’t wearing his full uniform, only a black fitted tee that shows off his arms and a pair of black tactical cargo pants slung low on his hips. His neck glistens faintly with some sweat and strands of his dark hair are slightly damp like he’d just come out of a recent workout.
He’s never looked more intimidating.
Or attractive.
You try not to stare.
“You alright?” Seungcheol asks, voice low and posture like steel, his fingers still clutched around your arm.
You nod quickly, shaking yourself out of his grasp and smoothing down your uniform. “Yes. Apologies, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol’s eyes scan over your face with that familiar, unreadable expression before flitting down to the way you’re clutching your evaluation letter as if it’s about to fly out of your hands. “You’ve read it already?”
Your fingers twitch around the paper. “Just did.”
“Any objections?”
“Over half of the precinct is wondering which insubordinate rookie got thrown into the lion’s den,” You say, offering a wry, sardonic smile. “Do you think I have any objections?”
There it is again𑁋that rare twitch of his lips. Not quite a smile, but a flickering moment where the mask slips a little more.
Seungcheol gives a casual shrug. “I wouldn’t have requested you if I thought you did.”
You freeze at that, staring back up at him with widened eyes. He requested you? No part of this makes any sort of sense in your brain. If anything, being assigned to Seungcheol is basically like a punishment, or a disciplinary sentence disguised as an opportunity. You’re supposed to survive him, not be chosen by him.
“You… requested me?” You ask him.
Seungcheol doesn’t respond right away, acting as if he didn’t put the entire weight of the world on your shoulders with just a singular sentence. You’re still peering up at him like you’re trying to search his face, trying to decipher through the unnerving stillness that makes people around him want to shrink into the ground. But you don’t let yourself shrink in front of him.
“Yes,” he replies simply, like he knew this would catch you off-guard. “So don’t make me regret my decision, rookie.”
“But I𑁋”
The conversation ends there. Because as you’re about to speak, he’s already brushing past you down the hallway, his shoulder briefly knocking against yours as he disappears around the corner.
Being in the same cruiser as Seungcheol is quite… daunting, to put it simply.
You climbed into the cruiser knowing what you were probably going to expect this entire day to go: the usual indifference and silence so thick it’s almost suffocating to be sitting in the passenger seat right next to him. But at the same time, there isn’t any animosity or awkwardness being with him𑁋well, maybe a little awkwardness.
From the outside, this probably looks like any other patrol shift. Two officers assigned as partners for the next three months, or until he decides to kick you out. Though on the inside, it feels as if you’re sitting inside a pressure cooker that has a chance of bursting with every red light that you stop at.
Seungcheol isn’t a talker. You’ve known that fact since the very beginning, especially when you approached him this morning with a simple Good morning, Sergeant and the only thing you got in return was a nod of acknowledgment and a tap of the ignition. All of it just makes you wonder if there’s more to him than just this surface-level silence. It’s in your nature, really.
Because who is he when he’s out of uniform? Is he secretly part machine? What would his laugh sound like? Hell, does he even laugh?
The first half of your shift with Seungcheol passes with near-total silence, with the only sounds coming from the hum of the cruiser driving down the street and the occasional bite of the radio. You find yourself gazing out the window and towards the greyness of the city. You observe the streets, monitor the traffic, double-check your radio… along with stealing a few glances towards him when he’s not looking. There’s something about him that just draws you in like a magnet.
You take in the profile of his face where the morning sunlight angles through the cruiser window just right, seemingly making his hardened edge appear more softer. You catch sight of a faint scar beneath his brow, another one in the crease of his upper lip that’s barely visible unless you’re sitting this close to him. You notice his habit of tapping his thumb on the steering wheel𑁋three beats, stop, three beats, stop.
You think of all the stories he must have after all this time in the force.
“You’re staring.”
You stiffen from his words, guilt warming up your cheeks as you immediately redirect your gaze ahead. “Sorry.”
Even when you’re not looking at him, you still feel the way his eyes glance back at you too.
As the cruiser approaches an upcoming red light, Seungcheol loosens his grip on the steering wheel a little, clearing his throat beside you.
“I’ve read your file,” he says flatly.
You perk up from that. “Yeah? Found any juicy blackmail?”
There’s a long pause that follows, which makes you think he won’t answer. But as the cruiser comes to a stop, Seungcheol allows his posture to relax for just a moment.
“You were at the top of your class at the academy,” he responds evenly. “Second highest percentile in firearms, defensive tactics, but graduated with as many demerits as the human hand.”
“Don’t count the last one,” You add in with a bitter bite. “Got written up because I talked back to my supervisor who cat-called me in the middle of a training simulation. And guess what? No one believed me.” Frustration courses through you as you sink your back more into the seat, crossing your arms together. “Should’ve kicked him in the balls when I had the damn chance.”
A lingering silence soon follows after your sudden outburst of honesty. For some reason, you find yourself bracing for a lecture𑁋perhaps a pointed reminder that you should have kept your mouth shut if you wanted to succeed in this field. You’ve heard it all before. From your supervisors back in the police academy. From senior officers like Officer Jiho who barely put in effort in reading your reports. It’s nothing new.
When you turn to peek at Seungcheol, there’s something about his expression that you haven’t seen before.
“You still remember the supervisor’s name?” he asks after a few beats.
You blink up at him, surprised. “Yeah, why?”
Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away. The light ahead turns green, and he eases the cruiser forward smoothly which only gives you more than enough time to wonder what he’s contemplating about.
“Tell me about the incident last month at 20th and Mujin.”
You feel like you know where this is going, your stomach twisting in anticipation. “The gas station robbery?”
He nods once, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead.
“A kid got caught up in it, reeled in by his brother and his friends,” You explain. “Thirteen-years old, first-time offender, scared shitless and crying for his mom. One of the officers roughed him up pretty bad while he tried to flee, so I intervened.”
Beside you, Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel shifts subtly. You know he’s listening.
“I told him I’d handle the kid,” You continue explaining the story. “As you already know, it didn’t end well. Got scolded that I should’ve become a social worker if I wanted to babysit. They told me the streets don’t give a shit about age𑁋that it was the kid’s decision to go criminal, and because of that, he gets the same treatment as the others. And I paid the price with a two-day suspension because I didn’t abide by the chain of command.”
You hear your voice hardening after each word that spills out of your mouth. There’s so much more you want to say𑁋God, so much𑁋but you already know what happens when you say too much.
“You acted emotionally during an active situation in front of your superior,” Seungcheol says finally. “You disobeyed a direct instruction without informing your lead and made a judgment call that wasn’t yours to make.”
Your lips tighten into a thin line from that, irritation bleeding into your voice. “So, you𑁋you would rather I stand around and watch an officer put his knee to a child’s back and manhandle him in front of me? Like the kid was holding a fucking bomb instead of wallet?”
“You don’t know what that kid could have done,” he argues back calmly. “Emotions cloud judgment. They always have and always will. And when you lose control, you put everyone on scene at risk.”
“And apparently having basic human decency gets me booted.”
“That’s not what I’m arguing.”
You huff out a snarky breath. “Sounds like it is, Sergeant.”
“You think I haven’t been in your position before, rookie?” Seungcheol reprimands roughly, his voice growing heavy like his mind is physically recoiling a certain memory he hasn’t spoken of in a while, or at all. “Because I have. Many times.”
The world pauses at that for a mere second, before the chatter of the radio interrupts the tension. It’s just a simple status update which Seungcheol answers casually as if you didn’t just witness this vulnerable side of him for the first time, even if it was only for a moment or two.
You curl your hand into a fist at your thigh, finding your thoughts lingering in the space between his words. You turn your head slowly to look back up at him. He doesn’t look back.
“Is that why… you’re like this now?” You question slowly, carefully. It comes out softer than you expect. And for a second, you think you may have pushed a bit too far.
Seungcheol exhales slowly, keeping his gaze forward. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Cold, numb, distant, the whole… intimidating, nonchalant energy you have going on.”
His eyes finally flick back to you. “You think I’m numb?”
Your heart stutters at the way he asks. It doesn’t come out offended or defensive, but quiet in a way that seems like no one else has really asked him this before. Like he’s genuinely curious about how you look at him through your eyes.
“Well, I mean…” You begin carefully, giving a small shrug. “You don’t exactly wear your heart on your sleeve, Sergeant.”
“I wear a badge. That’s enough,” he says promptly. “I’ve already told you𑁋emotions get in the way. It’s the truth. It’s protocol.”
“That’s your truth.”
“And my truth is what has kept me in this job for so long.”
You rest your elbow on the window, a small, bitter, humourless smile tugging at your lips. “Then you’re going to regret assigning me to you, Sergeant.”
“If I regretted it, you would’ve been kicked out of this squad by now.”
You don’t respond to that, only facing away from him completely to stare out of the passenger’s side window with your jaw tight.
Because Seungcheol is all about precision and emotions overriding susceptibility to error; you’re all about gut over grid, and heart over head. This dissonance should basically make you both incompatible… right?
“10-4, we got eyes on the suspect,” Seungcheol speaks affirmatively into the radio, voice calm and sharp like a blade. “Male, mid-thirties, has a knife and lighter in his hand and is covered in gasoline. Displaying highly erratic behaviour which suggests he’s definitely under the influence of something. Threatening arson. Have EMS and fire on standby.”
Two weeks after your first shift together, you and Seungcheol responded to a domestic dispute call, where a neighbour had reported screaming and crashing from an apartment on the second floor. By the time you both arrive, the man in question is pacing around barefoot on the grass, a kitchen knife at his side, and a lighter he keeps flickering on and off, all while hollering about his wife locking him out of the apartment with his child and threats about burning down the entire place. His hair and clothes are dripping with gasoline, a trail of it leading right up to the building, and the smell is intense enough for you to have your nose crinkling.
His gait is unsteady and his pupils are blown wide and red𑁋meth, most likely, or maybe even some type of psychosis episode included. Something enough that has his knife glinting under the moonlight with weak swings to the air and enough to make his words slur and crack with every yell. Either way, he’s twitchy and dangerous, clearly a danger not only to others, but himself as well. And your stomach coils with the thought that he only has to make one wrong move before that lighter sets himself and the building off.
“Come out, you fuckin’ bitch!” the man bellows out groggily through the cool evening air. “Taking my fuckin’ child𑁋I’ll kill you! I swear to God, I’ll burn this place down!”
You stick to Seungcheol’s side as the two of you progress a few steps forward toward the man.
“Stay at my six,” Seungcheol orders you sternly, placing himself in the space between you and the man a few feet ahead, his hand reaching out naturally𑁋protectively𑁋by your side to steady you. “Don’t move unless I say.”
You feel your heart kicking inside your chest as you reposition yourself behind him, fingers brushing over the latch of your gun in your holster. You keep your eyes locked on the jittery and unstable man, still shouting incoherently up at an apartment window, the knife trembling in his hand with each staggered step he takes closer towards the building.
“Sir, I need you to drop the knife and lighter!” Seungcheol commands, his voice booming with authority as he raises his firearm. “Put them down right now!”
Yet the man doesn’t comply. Instead, he only laughs. It’s an ugly, wet, mocking sound that has your lips pressing together in an impatient, thin line. The man doesn’t listen, keeping his back towards you and Seungcheol as he continues to fry out his lungs with threats that echo into the air. The radio notifies you that backup is only a few minutes out𑁋a few minutes too long knowing the entire complex can turn into a raging ball of fire in less than five seconds.
“Come out here!” the man screams, the flick of flame bursting to life in spurts as he waves it through the air. “Come out here before I kill all of you!”
As Seungcheol continues to shout up commands to the man, your gaze flicks up to the window above. The curtains are sealed shut, but for only a moment, you catch a glimpse of a child’s face behind it. A girl, probably around three or four, peering down at presumably her father with wide, unblinking eyes before disappearing again.
The smell of the gasoline burns in the back of your throat.
“Sergeant…”
“I know, I see her too,” Seungcheol responds tightly. “Just hold.”
But you can’t hold, especially not when every nerve in your body is firing up with instinct and fear. Fear for the little girl, the innocent people in the building, and for even the man. Protocol would tell you to go by the manual: wait for backup, de-escalate from a safe distance, let the superior officer make the call, and to never ever close in on an armed and volatile suspect under the influence.
Protocol doesn’t account for emotion𑁋it never does, very much a fact according to other officers and Seungcheol. It doesn’t factor the dreaded feeling of fear.
You’ve seen what fire can do. And you’ve also seen what inaction can do.
So when you hear that click of the lighter again, you do what your heart tells you before your mind can𑁋you move.
“Officer L/N!”
You emerge from behind Seungcheol and sprint past him, adrenaline striking down your body like a bolt of lightning. The world narrows to only the harrowing sight of the man in front of you, and you close the distance between you and him in a blur. He doesn’t even see you coming.
The suspect turns the moment you collide into him. The lighter flies out of his hand and skids right out of reach. Your shoulder knocks harshly into his ribs, causing you both to crash down into the damp, gasoline-soaked grass, but he kicks and thrashes and fights back hard as you try to pin his arms down, trying to suppress the way he’s reaching back for his knife with a crazed, drug-fueled strength.
And just as the man grips back onto the knife, Seungcheol spawns beside you.
One moment you’re pinning the man onto the ground, and the next, Seungcheol yanks the man away from you by the torn collar of his shirt and body slams him with a force that makes your bones rattle. But the man continues to resist, and he aimlessly swings the knife through the air once more, and it slices through Seungcheol’s sleeve and grazes his arm, blood oozing through the cut.
“Drop it!” Seungcheol seethes, pinning the man’s hand wielding the knife with his boot while hurriedly grabbing his cuffs. “Don’t you fucking move.”
The click of the cuffs securing makes your heart stutter, and you scramble from the ground to help Seungcheol with picking the man up. The suspect groans from your combined strength, still trying to jerk his body away, but you see the fight draining out of his body as the reality of the arrest settles all over him.
“10-15, suspect is under custody,” Seungcheol mumbles into the radio, then he turns toward you. “You okay?”
You offer him a faint nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Responding units arrive exactly two minutes later. Your eyes flick back up to the apartment window for a second, and this time, you see the same girl and a woman right next to her, cradling the little one in her arms as they watch the suspect being taken into custody. You feel your heart begin to calm, the adrenaline dimming away, and you can’t help the tiny lift to the corners of your lips before a brooding presence brushes right past you.
“Sergeant,” You call out to him urgently. “You’re hurt𑁋you need to sit down.”
Seungcheol shoots a dismissive look at the wound on his arm. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding𑁋”
“And you didn’t listen to me,” he deadpans. “What the hell was that?”
You blink. “I𑁋”
“You ran after an armed suspect. You disobeyed a direct order,” he says again, louder this time, even as his voice cracks. “You think that’s what I want, rookie? To 10-7 another officer because they couldn’t wait for five goddamn seconds?”
You freeze at that. And when you look at him𑁋as in, finally look at him𑁋you swear you feel it swirling you like ghosts, memories, and the past. You see a man who has been carrying the weight of trauma and past lives on his shoulders. A man who has been trying so hard to detach himself from emotion that he’s nearly forgotten how to feel it. A man whose colour has been drained yet still manages to will himself to uphold justice every single day.
And you𑁋being the reckless, impulsive mess among other names you’re called𑁋are chipping away at the walls he’s built faster than he seems to realise.
“Seungcheol…” The name leaves you like a breath, but he catches it immediately, hitting hard enough to make his heart drop.
The air between you thickens with tension, troubled only by the distant sounds of radio chatter from other units and firefighters rushing around to secure the area. Your eyes flicker from his face and down to his arm. You let your shoulders drop.
“Yell at me all you want,” You tell him calmly, letting your fingers brush softly over his elbow. “But I’m patching you up.”
Seungcheol doesn’t seem to protest back. Instead, he allows you to lead him to the back of the ambulance before you press down on his shoulders to force him to sit on the step. You fish for some antiseptic wipes and bandages from the trauma kit nearby before returning back to his side.
He doesn’t flinch when you lift up his sleeve to dab the antiseptic on his bicep. Yet as you’re locked in on cleaning up his wound, his own eyes are locked on you. He takes in your features𑁋how you bite your bottom lip with focus, the worry in your eyes as you clean the cut with precision, the way your lashes flutter with every blink. His breathing falters when your fingertips accidentally graze upon his bare skin.
“Does it hurt?” You ask softly.
“No.”
You snort. “Liar.”
His mouth faintly twitches up at that.
“You’re not going to apologise, are you?”
You look back up at him. “For what? Patching you up?”
“For breaking protocol.”
Your fingers freeze over the plaster.
“No,” You answer confidently. “I’m not.”
A low hum tumbles out of his chest, a sound somewhere between irritation and a little like… admiration. It comes out reluctantly. “Of course you’re not.”
You wrap the plaster around his arm securely and tape it up, smoothing down any ridges gently. When you pull away with a sigh, Seungcheol is still looking at you, causing you to force your eyes away and clear your throat soundly, hoping it’d be enough to cover up the way your cheeks warm.
In due time, you’re both back inside the cruiser. It’s silent on the way back to the station, but it’s a bit different this time𑁋still cold, but lesser so than it was from your first handful of shifts together𑁋because it’s not exactly peace, nor unease. Your first shifts found you both still continuously clashing with each other that sitting in the squad with him made it effectively hard to handle. You’re genuinely surprised he hasn’t reassigned you yet, whether by choice or force.
Seungcheol climbs out of the cruiser and shuts the door behind him. By the time he’s out, you’re already waiting for him by the door.
“Still planning to write me up today, Sergeant?” You question him teasingly.
He approaches you slowly, your words surrounding him because that is what he’s supposed to do. As your superior officer, you disobeyed him, compromised a scene, tackled an unarmed suspect to the ground blindly. On paper, it should be an easy write-up. Another review for your badge to add onto your reckless history.
But to him, nothing about this has been easy.
“You saved lives tonight yet nearly killed your own,” he acknowledges simply. “So it depends. Are you going to listen next time?”
“Not likely.” A playful grin crosses your face as you give him a quick nudge with your shoulder. “Goodnight, Sergeant.”
Before he can respond, you’re already turning your back to him and heading inside the station, leaving Seungcheol to only himself. He stares at the space you left behind.
Then, he quietly exhales the breath he’s been holding in and steps inside.
A piece of tomato from your sandwich slips onto the napkin sprawled across your lap with a splat. The afternoon breeze slips through the cracks of the cruiser’s windows and makes strands of your hair fly. The squad is parked on a random block that has an elementary school across the street in clear view. You find yourself in the passenger seat, eating a sad excuse for a sandwich you bought from a deli around the corner from the station. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now.
Right next to you, Seungcheol is drinking a cup of coffee, which looks more like bitter tar than it is freshly hot and brewed. You offered him half of your sandwich earlier, but he waved you off. He rarely eats on duty, you’ve noticed.
His sleeves are rolled up too, with a fresh pink scar poking out from underneath from the domestic dispute case a while back. You still feel really guilty about it, sometimes even wondering if you should have done things differently that night𑁋if you should have waited longer instead of rushing in with your chest full of adrenaline and emotion. If you did, he wouldn’t have that scar in the first place. You wonder if it stings with as much pain as the memory gives.
“Does this ever get old to you?” The question leaves you before you could even register it.
Seungcheol doesn’t look at you when you ask, his eyes instead focused on the kids running around in the playground across the street. His fingers tap rhythmically against his cup.
“Not really,” he replies vaguely with a shrug.
You nod, trailing your eyes to the children as well, watching them play while being blissfully unaware of the monsters in the world. When you glance back at him, he’s still watching them with that familiar press of neutrality to his lips. But you can tell he’s thinking about something.
You take a bite out of your disappointing sandwich. “Do you have any?”
“Any what?”
“Kids.”
His mouth parts, before shutting closed again, and the taps of his fingers falters. “Where is this coming from, rookie?”
You let out a soft, awkward laugh, hoping to downplay the question. “Sorry. Just… trying to make lunch conversation, you know?”
Seungcheol’s gaze dances between the kids in the playground and the brooding coffee cup in his hands.
“No,” he responds softly. “I don’t have any.”
You sit up in your seat at that, amusement teasing at your eyebrows. “None? No double life with a secret wife and kids or secret situationship you’re suffering over?”
You catch his mouth lifting up slightly from your words, but he swiftly covers it up with bringing his cup of coffee up to his lips to swallow whatever ghost of a smile was threatening to break free. Another little victory that you make note of to yourself.
“Nothing at all.” Seungcheol clarifies, pauses, before adding in more quietly, “You?”
You feign a gasp. “Oh, you’re asking me now.”
“You circled around it first.”
You chew thoughtfully through another bite of your sandwich before a faint smirk crosses over your face.
“Hmm, I could tell you,” You drawl with a playful tilt to your head. “But I think I like making you wonder.”
Seungcheol shoots you a side-eye from over the rim of the cup. “That so?”
You deliberately say nothing more, only leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed together. You can tell he’s waiting for you to elaborate, but you simply redirect your attention out through the window.
“You’re really not going to answer?” he asks.
“Nope. I’m letting you wonder.”
Seungcheol scoffs at that, shaking his head to himself. “Pain in my ass.”
The grin to your face draws even further from that. There’s no malice to his words at all; if anything, there’s an edge of reluctant amusement to it. You really are truly not like anyone else he’s partnered up with. A living, walking contradiction to everything he’s spent years perfecting. And damn it all, he hates the kind of trouble you bring𑁋but in some weird, twisted way, he can’t get himself to rid of it.
Just as the silence begins to settle once again, the radio buzzes with static.
“All units in the area, a 10-80 has been initiated. Male suspect is driving a stolen black Chevy heading eastbound on Hanbyeol. Any units, please respond.”
Seungcheol swiftly wedges his half-empty cup of bitter coffee into the holder and opens the MDT sitting in between the two of you. You wrap up the remains of your sandwich and buckle in your seatbelt.
“10-4, copy,” he responds into the radio with immediate clarity. “Unit 17 here responding, heading en route. Hand primary over. Advise on current traffic conditions?”
“Traffic is moderate. Suspect speed is 70, unknown if armed or not. Has an additional female passenger, unclear association. License plate reads…”
The cruiser roars to life when Seungcheol steps on the accelerator, the sirens blaring down the block as he pulls into the street. Red and blue lights flash over the windows of shops and restaurants, startling civilian cars and pedestrians out of the way. You feel your stomach lift and drop all at once as you force your gaze ahead.
The tires screech against the pavement as Seungcheol takes a sudden sharp right turn. In the rearview mirror, you catch sight of a few other squad cars joining the pursuit behind you, sirens screaming down the street. You grasp the handle above while Seungcheol easily weaves through incoming traffic, barely missing cars that swerve out of the way at the last cutthroat second. He’s back in his element now𑁋this is what he does best. His grip is hardened to iron on the steering wheel all while he and dispatch are relaying information back and forth to each other.
Narrowing your eyes, you spot the car in question barrelling past a red light, the front bumper making brief contact with another car who slams on their brakes.
“There!” You exclaim and reach out for your radio to announce, “Suspect just cut through the red light at Gaon intersection. Made contact with a Honda Civic. Still heading eastbound.”
“Copy that,” the comms crackles through the radio. “Maintaining pursuit. Confirm possible PIT when applicable?”
Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. “Negative on PIT for now. Traffic and speeds are too high.”
You glance at him from the side. There’s a subtle tension in his posture, a wariness curling at the edge of his scarily calm demeanour. You can almost see his mind running through every possible outcome, every split-second decision that could end in potential disaster if there’s even one singular miscalculation from him, you, and the other officers involved in the pursuit.
Suddenly, the Chevy swerves onto the southbound onramp heading onto the highway, causing Seungcheol to curse under his breath and for you to nearly hit your head against the window from the manoeuvre, despite being locked tight with the seatbelt.
“Update, rookie,” he instructs without keeping his eyes off the road.
You nod firmly. “Suspect is merging onto the Hanbyeol highway. Speed rapidly increasing to 85. Traffic is still moderate.”
The suspect cuts across three lanes erratically and clips the passenger side mirror of another car, sending bits of debris and sparks to fly down the highway. The front bumper is hanging on by a thread from the amount of force and speed the car is going. Seungcheol stays one line aside in the hopes of boxing the Chevy, with other units accelerating in from behind.
Inside the suspect’s car, you spot obscure signs of frantic movement from the female passenger: arms swinging, inaudible screaming, like she’s trying to fight back. It’s causing the vehicle to swerve left and right aggressively, and you feel your stomach lurch.
“This is Unit 17, the passenger is showing signs of resistance inside the car,” You speak into the radio. “Possible attempt of vehicular kidnapping.”
There’s a short, grim moment of silence through the radio from your words.
“10-4, copy that. Confirming to all units that tactical intervention is advised with a possible hostage situation.”
Seungcheol lets out an exhale, like he hasn’t taken a breath in the past five minutes. “Good eyes, officer.”
You blink up at him unexpectedly, your heart warming for a passing moment. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
The cruiser continues hurtling down the highway. The engine groans beneath your feet, wind slashing violently against the windows, and every second that continues to tick by feels like an inevitable disaster waiting to happen. You keep a tight grip on the centre console as Seungcheol switches lanes again to smoothly position the squad right behind the suspect𑁋a living blueprint of every tactical pursuit ever written.
Just then, the Chevy weaves again, hurtling itself to the right before jerking back to the left, narrowly missing another car. A horn blares in warning.
And in the blink of an eye, the Chevy suddenly veers abruptly left. Very abruptly.
You watch with a helpless lump in your throat as the suspect tries to overcorrect the car, yet the tires screech with frustration. The car parades across the highway and crashes straight into the concrete barrier, the front end crumpling like a piece of paper. It goes through a few violent spins before coming to a smoking halt across the shoulder, its nose facing incoming traffic.
“Son of a𑁋” Seungcheol hisses in frustration, slamming his foot harshly on the brake. “Call it in. Now.”
You frantically press on the radio. “10-50, suspect vehicle in a collision. Southbound highway. Requesting EMS and fire right away.”
Seungcheol is out of the car before you could even process it. Your own boots hit the asphalt before as you stumble out of the car, grabbing your gun from your holster and taking cover on the opposite end of the front hood where Seungcheol is. Behind you, other units park from a safe distance in order to form a loose perimeter around the area. Doors fling open, guns are drawn, and it takes a moment for you to realise that this entire situation isn’t just a figment of your imagination.
Smoke rises from the car and curls into the air like ribbons, and the windshield is spiderwebbed with cracked glass. The passenger’s side doesn’t open𑁋the woman is still inside𑁋but through the window you’re able to spot some movement to indicate that she’s still alive. But the suspect’s door creaks open. A man stumbles out of the car seconds later, his face contorted with blood and pain, and his left arm looks like it got dislocated from the impact of the crash. However, in his right hand, he’s wielding a gun of his own.
“Gun!” someone yells from behind𑁋not you or Seungcheol, but one of the other arriving officers. It triggers an immediate chain reaction among the other squads.
You raise your weapon instantly, breath catching and heart pounding as the man takes a shaky step forward closer to the barricade of officers and squad cars. The suspect’s gun isn’t pointed at anyone yet, but it’s clearly in his hand. You spot his finger twitching along the trigger, his eyes completely glazed over like glass, blood pouring from his nose, and he’s breathing hard as if he had just walked through an entire forest of fire.
“Driver, drop the weapon!” Seungcheol bellows loudly, voice cutting through the air like a clap of thunder. “Put your hands up where I can see them!”
But the man doesn’t move. Doesn’t comply. And through your eyes, there’s already a sign of defeat raging over his features. There’s no calculation or escape plan𑁋only gazing over at you, Seungcheol, and all the other officers with their guns raised toward him like he’s silently begging for someone to shoot.
“Sergeant,” You anxiously breathe out shakily to Seungcheol. “He wants us to shoot him.”
Seungcheol pauses to process what you just said, then takes a visible, sharp inhale. You wait for him to bark something at you𑁋to probably tell you to stay back and let him and the tactical team call the shots. But he doesn’t.
Instead, his jaw tics like his own mind is fighting him, and flicks his eyes toward you. Not to reprimand, or restrain, but… to trust.
“Go on,” he orders with hesitation. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
A surprised warmth of relief washes over you. You glance back at the other officers behind, then to Seungcheol, before standing up from behind the cover of the cruiser and taking a few, careful steps towards the suspect. The second you lower your gun and put it back into your holster, you overhear the radio immediately explode with chatter.
“Who the hell is that?”
“An officer from Unit 17 is approaching the suspect without tactical cover.”
“Unauthorized𑁋repeat, unauthorized.”
“Stand down!” Seungcheol’s voice cuts in sharply. “All units, hold your fire.”
There’s some muttered protests trying to break through the static, yet Seungcheol holds his and your ground.
You pause just a few metres away from the suspect. “Sir?”
No response, but there’s a faint flicker in there somewhere when he lifts his head to you from your voice.
“Sir?” You repeat more steadily this time. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
A wet grunt of pain escapes the man’s bloody lips. You can see how much he’s trembling, barely being able to contain himself upright. The gun is still in his hand, not raised, his fingers wrapped loosely on the trigger.
“Just kill me,” the man urges, voice hoarse like the words have been cutting against his throat. “Please.”
“No,” You tell him reassuringly. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Do it!” the man snaps back harsher, his voice breaking even more. “You… You all did it before! To my friend! Gunned him down like a dog! Because you all always fucking shoot!”
“And I’m here to tell you I’m not like them,” You say, showing off your unarmed hands. “I’m just here to help you. You can walk away from this. I know you can.”
The words blare louder than any siren could. And for a split moment, you feel the weight of all the guns pointing from behind you.
The man huffs out a broken laugh. “What’s the point if I’m dead anyway?”
His hand tightens a little more around the gun, making every other officer behind to stiffen. But you continue to hold your ground. Right now, in front of almost the entire police department, you are choosing heart over protocol𑁋and Seungcheol gave you permission to do so.
“You’re not dead,” You assure calmly. “You’re still here, standing and breathing. That might not mean something to you, but it does me.”
Another flicker in his eyes.
“Don’t,” the man warns. “Don’t act like you care.”
“I do care.”
“No, you’re a cop. You’ll say anything.”
“Then shoot me.”
The words come out of you before you can stop it, even enough to surprise yourself. The suspect’s eyes widen from it too, like he’s trying to decipher past your facade. The thing is, there is no facade you’re putting up. You’re not here to punish, to correct, or pride yourself with delusions because of the badge at your chest. No, you’re here to empathise with someone who is just as human as you.
“I know that you’re feeling lost,” You continue. “And that you think you don’t have anything left, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to live.”
The man’s face falters again.
“And for your friend, I may not know his name. But I know that he mattered, and that he wouldn’t want your story to end like this.”
His eyes drop to the gun in his shaky hands, then instantly, tears begin to well up and run down his face. The gun dips lower𑁋just an inch, then lower, his knuckles no longer pale with strain.
“I… I never meant for this to happen,” he mutters, lips trembling with every word that leaves him. “Fuck, I-I’m so sorry…”
You step closer, cautiously outstretching your hand toward him. “I know, I believe you. But you’re not alone in this, alright? I can help you if you just put down the gun.”
His shoulders droop down low as if something inside of him has finally cracked. For a heartbeat, you feel the world around you hold its breath while you’re holding one of your own. A very painful one.
Then you see it: a moment where it could go right. The suspect dances his fingers dangerously close to the trigger, like he’s physically trying to hold himself back from doing what he thought to be the inevitable. God, he’s shaking so hard you think he might drop and collapse.
But then suddenly, a shot rings out.
Not from you. Or the suspect. But from somewhere behind.
The thunderous clap of the bullet splits the world in half.
“Shots fired! Shots fired!”
“The suspect is down!”
“Cuff him! Cuff him!”
In front of you, the suspect’s body jerks violently, the gun dropping from his grasp just before he’s able to fully surrender it. Crimson blooms through his shoulder, his knees buckling as he tumbles onto the asphalt below, a ragged gasp leaving his mouth.
You could only freeze up. You can’t move.
“No,” You croak out weakly. “No, no, no𑁋”
You barely hear the scream that escapes out of you before a group of officers and EMS brush past you to restrain the man deeper into the ground, even though he’s already bleeding out and the gun is laying an entire arm’s length away. People from EMS scramble to get the woman out of the car.
He was surrendering. He was letting go.
A strong hand lands at your arm, and you find yourself being dragged away from the scene. The grip isn’t rough in the slightest, but firm, yet you still attempt to twist your way out. Your eyes remain locked on the suspect on the ground, seeing the way his fingers are twitching against the pavement. With every passing second, heat courses through you𑁋both anger and grief.
But especially anger.
“Let go of me!” You yell out, trying to squirm away. “Let fucking go𑁋”
“Stand down.”
The voice that fills your ears is deep and commanding. In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol is right in front of you. One of his hands is pinning yours against his chest while the other is holding onto your shoulder. Your back meets the cruiser behind, and his face awfully closer to yours than it’s ever been.
His brows are pushed together, and his eyes𑁋Jesus Christ, his eyes𑁋are blazing with fury.
“Look at me, Y/N,” Seungcheol orders, pressing himself closer to you to the point you’re able to feel his rapid heart rate on your hand that’s on his chest. “Breathe. You need to breathe for me.”
Y/N.
You try to. You really try to. But your throat only tightens even more. Because that man was right there, and now he’s bleeding out since someone decided to pull a trigger they had no right to fire. Because someone saw a threat instead of a person𑁋saw a gun in a man’s hand and declared that was enough. And still, Seungcheol stays with you, shielding you away.
“Sergeant,” You whisper out softly. “I… I almost had it. I saw him putting the gun down. He was crying𑁋”
“I know,” he grits out. “I know.”
His dark eyes roam over your tear-stained face, lingering for a moment too long. You run a hand over your face to swipe away more of the incoming tears threatening to spill out.
However, the moment is interrupted with another voice snapping out, “What the hell kind of stunt was that?”
It belongs to a man named Lieutenant Hwang, who is storming toward you with his vest half unbuckled and a rifle slung around his shoulder. You don’t know much about him, only that he’s another hard-liner like Seungcheol. His sharp gaze cuts to you, a finger jabbed towards you.
“You walked straight into an active scene with no cover,” Hwang snarls directly at you. “This isn’t fucking child’s play, rookie.”
You feel your blood boil at that.
“Child’s play?” You remark angrily, separating yourself from Seungcheol. “What you should consider child’s play is standing around and watching someone about to take their own life when we had the only chance to prevent it.”
Hwang blinks, almost like he’s taken aback for a second, before he shakes his head like he’s in disbelief you’re talking back. There’s a tense moment of silence, thick enough for other surrounding officers to zip their mouths and turn their heads toward the confrontation. You hear the whispers circling around you like phantoms.
“You have zero command for negotiations. Hell, you’re barely at tactical entry level.” The scowl on his face only deepens. “Don’t talk back to me like you know better than protocol. You compromised an entire scene and turned it into a goddamn therapy session.”
“Because I saw a man who needed help. He was armed, yes, but he wasn’t threatening,” You fire back. “And everyone else here saw nothing but a man with a gun and decided that was the end of the story.”
Hwang huffs out a breath. “This department doesn’t run on feelings. Emotions cloud judgment in this job.”
You seethe even hotter at that. Beside you, Seungcheol remains silent. His jaw is tight, yet he lets you speak.
“I𑁋you want to talk about judgment?” You fire back, gesturing your hands wildly back to the scene. “Judgment is knowing when to pull the trigger and when not to. So clearly, someone else here failed that test.”
Your voice wavers from rage, from the sheer ridiculousness that you’re being ridiculed for trying to handle a situation that half of the department had no guts to try. Hwang’s cold eyes narrow down at you, his fists clenching at his side as if he’s about to take this further. But before he can, a voice cuts in.
“Enough.”
All eyes land back on Seungcheol. He positions himself between you and Hwang.
“I told the team to hold their fire,” he admits at last. “And I was the one who gave her clearance.”
Hwang scoffs bitterly, crossing his arms together. “Are you fucking me with me right now, Sergeant? Allowing your own rookie to lead this shitshow? We could’ve been scraping up her remains off this highway.”
“And she showed more damn courage dealing with a suicide-by-cop situation than half this field has in the last five years,” Seungcheol responds firmly. “So if you have a problem with her, take it up with me.”
Your heart seizes at that. You’ve never heard him speak like this. Not in the past shifts you’ve worked together in. Not in any of the stories passed around the precinct about Sergeant Choi Seungcheol: the man who never lets personal feelings interfere with procedure and protocol. And God, you can’t get yourself to tear your eyes away from him.
Because this isn’t protocol talking.
It’s him.
An incredulous look washes over Hwang’s face.
“Jesus𑁋this is why they say you’ve gone soft recently,” the man mumbles to himself, before adding in, “And guess what, Sergeant? That softness is why you lost your last fucking partner.”
The words land harder than a punch to the gut. You see it in Seungcheol’s stare𑁋that tiny flicker. A purposeful crack to his rift where memories flash through him in an instant.
Seungcheol steps forward. “Watch your mouth.”
Hwang raises a brow. “You’re really going to start a pissing match over some girl𑁋”
“I said watch your goddamn mouth, Hwang,” Seungcheol repeats again, not hesitating to grab the superior officer by his collar and shove him back a step. “Keep talking shit and you and I are going to have a real problem.”
The air between the two men thickens even more.
“You forgot who the fuck you’re speaking to?” Hwang growls back, shoving Seungcheol off of him. “This conversation isn’t over. For both of you.”
With a glare thrown over his shoulder, Lieutenant Hwang marches away from you and Seungcheol. Other officers remain stunned at the scene, before Seungcheol sends them all a look that has them scurrying away, leaving the two of you alone.
Seungcheol rakes a hand through his hair and forces a breath out. When he finally turns back to you, you see how his expression shifts𑁋from rage, to grief, to something a little more… vulnerable. The residual anger starts to dim when he meets your widened eyes.
He doesn’t say anything at first. You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you with a short shake of his head, telling you not here, not in front of the others.
“Come with me,” he says tightly.
And you follow him without question.
Seungcheol’s office is quiet. Unnervingly so.
You’ve been in here a couple of times before, mainly to drop reports on his desk or for him to give you feedback on your shared shifts which was often kept blunt and short, yet never unkind. The door shuts with a gentle click, and you find yourself standing awkwardly in the middle of the office as if you’re unsure if you even belong here anymore.
You watch as Seungcheol plants both hands on the edge of his desk, his head bowed like he’s trying to catch his own breath for the first time in the past hour. The muscles on his back tense from stress beneath the stretch of his shirt.
You let your mouth fall open to speak. “Sergeant𑁋”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off quickly. “Just… not yet.”
Your fingers twitch uselessly at your sides, still restless from grief and residual adrenaline. There’s about a million things trying to crawl its way up your throat, but Seungcheol’s words hang heavier than the air itself. Not yet.
However, you silently cross over that threshold instead, stepping towards him and closing the empty space in between you both. He isn’t looking at you, but your eyes trail from the back of his head and down to how his bulletproof vest seems to be suffocating him.
You lift your hands, caressing your fingertips at the buckles on his back.
“I’m going to take this off you,” You tell him quietly. “Okay?”
He doesn’t give you a verbal answer. But he doesn’t stop you, either.
You take it as permission.
Sliding your fingers towards the strap of his vest, you begin to peel it open, the sound of the Velcro tearing bouncing off the walls of his office. Slowly but surely, you undo each buckle of tension away from him, easing the vest off his shoulders and onto a nearby chair. He still doesn’t look at you when you finish, yet you see the barest hints of his body relaxing as if you’ve just taken the entire day off of him.
You hover quietly behind him, close enough you feel the heat radiating off him. His jaw clenches, then unclenches; his grip on the desk tightening, then loosening. You swallow down the lump in your throat.
“Seungcheol,” You utter out his name, soft enough to not startle, loud enough to reach.
When his name leaves your mouth, that’s when you see the noticeable drop in his shoulders. And this𑁋God, this𑁋is a Seungcheol you’ve never seen before: a man stripped of his armour, lips tied together pensively. You have the urge to reach out, but you keep your feet planted on the floor.
“What happened?” You ask him softly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just…”
He takes in a deep breath, still refusing to meet your eyes.
“I had a partner three years ago,” Seungcheol begins slowly. “He was my Sergeant at the time.”
You hear his voice beginning to break with every word.
“He was, um… the light of the precinct, believe it or not.” A humourless laugh leaves him. “But he was good. God, he was good. I’d get excited to be in the same squad as him because he always had these shitty doughnuts with him.”
Even though you’re still staring at his back, you sense the faint hint of a smile at his face from the memory. It makes your heart warm up a little more too𑁋until you hear the way his breath stutters, as if that warmth pains him.
“He wasn’t naive, you know. He knew how ugly this job can be, but he taught me a lot,” Seungcheol continues, his knuckles turning white on the desk. “He was the kind of cop that would stop a kid on the sidewalk just to tie their shoes. Had a wife and son as well.”
There’s a pause before you ask, “How old?”
“Four,” Seungcheol answers mutedly.
You step closer to him, placing a flat palm to his back. It’s a simple touch with barely any pressure at all, but Seungcheol reacts as if you’ve drilled a hole through him and touched a nerve. His shoulders tense, then painfully loosen, because comfort has never been safe in his world.
“We were short-staffed one night, so me and him took patrol,” Seungcheol says. “While we were out, he told me about how he was going to take his son to the aquarium for the weekend. At the time, I’d never get tired of his stories. He always had lots to tell.”
Another lift at his lips from that, but it dies right away.
“Then we… we got this call,” he continues. “Domestic. Crazy armed motherfucker threatening this woman he was hooking up with. The caller was a neighbour and reported gunshots and screaming from the female. But when we got there, we didn’t hear any screaming…”
There’s a small sniffle that leaves him. You still don’t say anything and let him continue as he spills out a story that he’s kept buried inside of him this entire time.
“He tried to hold me back, but I argued with him𑁋saying that if we just stood around and waited for backup, that blood’s gonna be on our hands instead, that there was still time to save her.” His breath shudders. “So he took my word and ran into the house before me. I was two seconds late running in. Two fucking seconds. When we got inside, the victim was already dead, and the suspect was hiding.”
A pause. Then another. And another.
“I watched him die for a person we couldn’t save,” he points out. “We weren’t wrong for going in. We were wrong for thinking we could control what would happen on the other side of that door. And… it was because of me. I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.”
At long last, a suppressed breath leaves him𑁋one that seems to emerge out from a cavern far deeper than his own lungs.
“I gave out his eulogy,” Seungcheol finalises. “His wife still sends Christmas cards to the precinct. I don’t open them.”
You say nothing for a moment, only letting your hand slowly drift down to his side. His shoulders rise and fall once, then twice.
“I’m sorry,” You whisper, even though that doesn’t feel right to say, your hand pressing a little more firmer into his side to the point you feel his warmth seep its way into your fingers.
Seungcheol shakes his head, a bitter, self-loathing gruff escaping him. “He’d hate what I’ve become.”
“I don’t think he would.”
“You didn’t know him, rookie.”
“But I know you, Sergeant.”
That’s what finally coaxes him to usher his body around finally, and you feel like you’re staring at a side of him that you’re not allowed to see as you release your hand away from him. The edges of his eyes are red; he’s looking at you as if he’s unsure what to say, like whatever words that should come to him are teasing him right at the tip of his tongue.
“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he murmurs out. “I shouldn’t have trusted you. I shouldn’t have…”
The guilt in his voice feels like a stab to the heart.
“I shouldn’t have broken protocol.”
“But you did,” You reaffirm. “Because at that moment, you trusted me.”
Seungcheol’s stare flickers at that, dropping briefly to your mouth, your hands, and back to your eyes, before it hardens back like he’s trying to force some restraint. You catch it anyway. You always do.
He can’t deny it𑁋he did trust you.
You take another step towards him, close enough that the tip of your combat boots kisses his own. The room feels like it’s closing in from all sides. Somewhere in the precinct, a door slams and a phone rings, but right now, it’s just the two of you.
“Don’t,” he warns quietly, but it isn’t the same don’t as before.
You blink up at him. “Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that,” he says, exhaling through his nose. “Like you’re not scared of me.”
The words make your heart ache so sharply it almost makes you angry.
“I’m more scared of what this place turns people into,” You admit softly.
Seungcheol’s hands flex at his sides. “Do you know what they teach us here? They teach you to see everything as a threat, because threats are simple and easier to end.” Regret oozes thickly from his voice. “They teach you that threats deserve force, that hesitation kills, and that empathy is a liability. They teach you to see nothing but black and white, because being in that grey area gets you killed.”
His eyes stay locked on yours like he’s daring you to flinch, but you don’t. Of course you don’t.
“And eventually, you… you stop seeing people as people, and instead you start seeing these silhouettes,” he continues slowly. “Because they’ve drilled so much shit in your head that you start seeing guns instead of hands.”
You cross your arms together. “And what did you see when you looked at me?”
Seungcheol’s eyes drop for a half a second to the ground, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head. His expression cracks at that.
“Don’t make me choose between you and this job, rookie,” he whispers begrudgingly, dodging the question.
He says it as if it’s already too late. Like the decision has been made already. Or maybe you’re overthinking it.
“But you already did choose, didn’t you?” You counter back harshly. “Don’t stand there and pretend that it didn’t mean anything. You told me to go, and so now, what𑁋you’re ashamed?”
Seungcheol doesn’t answer that, of course. You don’t expect him to, but the thick, unraveling silence that fills the entire room is enough for one. And the weight of literally everything from today𑁋the lunch you both shared, the chase, the damn gunshot and the man’s body hitting the asphalt𑁋is beginning to take its mental and physical toll on you within a few short minutes of standing in this suffocating office.
“No,” he finally says. “You’re twisting this.”
“What am I twisting? That you trusted me? That for one goddamn second, you let yourself believe there was another way? That you let yourself feel something for once?”
He wipes a frustrated hand over his face. “This isn’t about belief, rookie. It’s about reality.”
“You think I don’t know the risks?” You snap, jabbing a finger at him. “We both know what we saw: a man who just needed someone to see him for one minute𑁋”
“And he still ended up shot,” Seungcheol cuts back in like a blade. “So tell me where the fuck your instincts got us.”
His words hit you like a slap to the face. You can tell he regrets the way it left his mouth. However, you huff out a weak, breathy chuckle, lips pursing into a thin line as you step away from him.
“One day, your little ‘protocol’ is going to hollow you out,” You tell him sharply. “And when that day comes𑁋and maybe it already has, like right now𑁋don’t you dare act surprised.”
When you take a few more steps away from him, Seungcheol is already etching his feet forward as well𑁋maybe to catch you or apologise, he doesn’t know. He barely even registers the movement himself.
As your eyes catch the doorknob to his office, you turn back to him.
“They can suspend me, reassign me, I don’t care,” You say with a tone of finality. “But I won’t apologise for seeing him.”
A pause.
“And I won’t apologise for seeing you, either.” You twist the doorknob and open the door, but not before saying, “because I care about you.”
You’re gone before Seungcheol can say anything more, leaving nothing but his thoughts in complete disarray.
There’s one side of him forged by years of muscle memory: where hands don’t shake when a gun is drawn, eyes that scan a scene in mere seconds, what cadence to use to state orders, and hesitation means being another name written on a memorial plaque in the back of the precinct. That Seungcheol doesn’t bend because it’s kept him alive this entire time.
But today, another side of him came out. A side that let you go forward, that trusted you to talk instead of shoot, that believed in you more than everything he’s been taught. A side of him that stood in front of Lieutenant Hwang because he couldn’t bear to listen to anyone trying to diminish your efforts. This terrifying, fragile clarity came from you𑁋the first person who ever made him question if this armour he wears is really strength or just a cage.
A side that wanted to call after you and say that he did choose, and that he would probably do it again.
Your voice still rings in his ears long after you’ve walked away.
Because I care about you.
Goddamn it. He cares about you too, and that scares the shit out of him.
You did, in fact, get suspended. Seventy-two hours ago, to be exact.
The disciplinary hearing went as well as it could be. You figured you’d rather endure through two hours of bullshit being shoved down your throat and accept the consequences than even try to argue back. So the price you got was your badge revoked indefinitely and a temporary leave for only the universe knows how long. And just like any good cliche, you find yourself at a bar that you don’t remember the name of right now, tucked in the farthest chair with your third𑁋or maybe fourth, you’ve stopped counting𑁋drink of some cheap whiskey you accepted without care.
The place isn’t even that nice, to be honest. The lights are so dim that it makes you feel sleepy, the air reeks of cigarette smoke, the jukebox has been repeating the same song unknowingly, and the only other three customers besides you have been drunkenly playing competitive pool like they have all the time in the world. It’s the perfect place to disappear in because no one knows your face and could give two shits that you’ve been practically put on officer probation.
The condensation of the glass drips onto your fingertips. Your hair is down and you’re dressed in your civilian clothes. No bulletproof vest, no duty belt𑁋just you, your thoughts, and a glass in your hands that has all the power to tip you over the edge. The past few hours have bled so much into each other that really nothing makes sense in your mind at all.
The last sip of your drink burns down your throat. The bartender doesn’t even ask if you want another and refills the glass right away. You must not be the only cop he’s seen drift through here.
As the men at the pool table bid their tipsy goodbyes for the night, you finally expect the complete peace and quiet you’ve hoped for before you leave. But the sounds of heavy footsteps getting louder by the second echoes painfully through your head, and you flick your eyes around to see none other than a familiar, brooding presence that doesn’t disappear when you blink.
Seungcheol.
He looks like he doesn’t belong in a place like this. A complete stranger in the wrong world. Just like you, he’s wearing normal clothes for once𑁋black jeans and a charcoal compression shirt that tugs a little too tightly on his biceps. He steps inside the bar with the kind of posture that doesn’t just walk into places, but sizes them up. Carries authority with him everywhere he goes.
His eyes scan the room and spot you instantly. Your stomach lurches.
God, he’s so fucking attractive, which is a complete horrible thing to think about with the kind of week you had and the amount of alcohol in your system. And because you look like hell right now. Or maybe your brain is just seeking for something uncomplicated to focus on right now.
You immediately look away with warm cheeks, chugging down the thought about how you were mentally cataloging how attractive your superior officer is in the middle of a shitty bar. But a few moments later, you feel him stop at the seat right next to you, looming with an unreadable expression on his face.
You let out a chuckle. “Oh, goody. It’s my favourite buzzkill.”
Seungcheol doesn’t rise to the bait, and instead just slides into the stool right next to you. His eyes flicker towards the glass in front of you before settling on your features again.
“Rookie.”
“Sergeant.”
It feels improper to address him that way at this moment. Right now, there’s no ranks or uniforms, and especially no asshole men in police uniforms to nag you about your emotional insubordination.
Your fingers caress the rim of your glass. “Did you miss me that much already?”
Seungcheol gives you a long, pointed look. “How much have you had to drink?”
A noncommittal hum leaves you, before you bring up your hand and gesture vaguely through the air. He watches you hold up two fingers, then three, then four, as if the number can’t catch up from how much fog is clouding your head.
“If I tell you, are you gonna write me up for drinking on duty?” You tease, tilting your head to the side. “Oh, shit𑁋I’m not on duty. Right.”
He sighs through his nose, resting his forearm against the edge of the bar. “That’s not funny.”
“No?” You prod a bit further. “‘Cause right now, I’m a woman at the bar… with a very attractive man right next to me. And I gotta say, you clean up quite well.”
Seungcheol’s jaw ticks. He runs a hand over his face like he’s trying to erase whatever thoughts you planted in his head. “You’re drunk.”
“And you’re hot.” You give a small shrug, taking in another sip. “Guess we’re both fucked then.”
Seungcheol doesn’t respond to that. He shoots an eye at the bartender, tapping a few times on the surface of the bar. In a matter of seconds, two glasses of iced water lands in between you both, and he nudges one in your direction.
You choose to ignore it, for now at least.
“Be honest with me, did you hate me at first?” You ask him, spinning the stool so you could face him, your knee brushing over him.
“No,” Seungcheol answers quietly. “I didn’t hate you.”
You scoff in disbelief at that. “Not even a little?”
“I hate that you get under my skin all the damn time.”
“Wow.” A befuddled grin spreads across your face. “I’ll consider myself flattered, then.”
That earns you a particular look from him. No, it isn’t one of annoyance, but almost… fond. Cautiously fond, perhaps𑁋as if he can’t believe he’s putting up with you right now. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit how much he’s used to being around you at this point.
The grin to your face still doesn’t fade; if anything, it deepens, tilts a little, and takes on the kind of curve that would’ve probably earned you an eye-roll at the precinct. The glass of whiskey is clutched between your palms like you know you’re playing a game that you’ll win regardless, and Seungcheol can’t help himself to just… watch you.
You, with your certain gravity that pulls him closer without mercy. You, with that same stubborn spark you’ve held all on your own while everyone else was trying to douse your flames away. Maybe a little disheveled at this second, but still as fierce as you’ve always had, and it terrifies him how badly he wants to burn with you. You’re the only thing that’s ever made him question his rules.
That shouldn’t affect him the way it does, because now his imagination is going haywire.
“You’re staring, Sergeant.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts. “What’re you thinking about right now?”
Seungcheol leans back slightly, because now that you’ve said that, he’s imagining nothing but kissing that smart yet troubled mouth of yours shut without fear of consequence. He imagines if you’d gasp or sigh into him when it happens, or if you’d push him back just to challenge things even further.
His eyes trail down to your lips, and all he can think about is how good they would look wrapped around something else.
Jesus Christ. He’s not even drunk, but it almost feels like he is. Because he really, really shouldn’t be thinking this, especially not when you’re inebriated and pissed off at the department and the world. Yet here you are, still shamelessly flirting with him and𑁋
“I’m thinking,” Seungcheol begins, shifting slightly in his seat. “that you talk too much.”
You blink slowly at that, heat dragging across your skin. “But you like that about me, don’t you?”
He swears again under his breath, taking a sip of his untouched water just to feel something else. Because he wonders how loud you would be𑁋and if you’d let go completely in his arms, rake your nails down his shoulders and back, if you’d beg for more after letting him write poems between your legs, and how beautiful you’d look like as he ruins you and puts you back together all at once.
He wants nothing more than to know how soft you’d become underneath all that fire.
“If I kissed you right now,” You drawl, body wobbling noticeably as you lean more towards him. “Would you stop me?”
Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek.
“You’re drunk,” he reminds flatly. “I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”
An exaggerated pout eases its way across your face. “But you didn’t say no.”
From that, Seungcheol covers up the faint smirk crawling across his lips behind the glass of water before setting it down with a clink. He watches you down the rest of your whiskey in one go, your throat bobbing from the burn. It still strengthens the fire that you have within you, and Seungcheol feels all of it pulse beneath his skin that almost dares him to just admit everything.
You slam the glass down with just a bit too much force on the bar before you scramble for your wallet inside your bag. However, before you could open your wallet, a large, calloused hand covers over yours.
“I’ve got it,” Seungcheol says firmly.
You blink up at him puzzledly. “What?”
“I said I’ve got it.”
You try to protest, but he’s already pulling out his own wallet from his back pocket, sliding a couple of crisp bills across the top bar. The bartender sends him a knowing look, before grabbing the money without asking any further questions.
You hop off the stool and nearly stumble on your own feet𑁋not drunk enough to fall, but just the amount of tipsy that has your limbs feeling like jelly after sitting on a bar stool for past how many hours. Seungcheol’s arm is around you instinctively, his hand at your elbow to help steady you. Memories of that day back at the training centre flashes through your eyes.
“Careful,” he whispers, voice brushing against your ear.
You shoot a glare at him dazedly. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are,” Seungcheol gruffs, releasing his grip from you but keeping his hand close to your lower back as you walk away from him.
You find yourself leading Seungcheol out of the bar. The cool, sobering night air caresses delicately over your warm face. The streets are quiet at this hour, besides the occasional roar of a car passing by. You walk side by side without speaking for a minute, your clumsy steps far from unison from his steady ones. It should be awkward, but somehow, it isn’t. And it’s hard for your mind to register the idea that right now, you’re not entirely alone. Seungcheol is right next to you.
You don’t walk far before his voice breaks through the silence.
“Where’s your car?” he asks.
“Didn’t drive,” You murmur in response. “Didn’t trust myself to.”
A slow exhale leaves him from that, and it sounds a little like a sigh, or even a curse under his breath. Then you hear the jingling of a pair of keys.
“I’ll take you home,” Seungcheol says simply.
You slow your pace at that, quirking up a brow. “Is that really necessary, Sergeant?”
“I’m not your Sergeant right now,” he replies lowly. “Come on.”
He walks you to his car𑁋of course he didn’t park far, because he always thinks ten steps ahead𑁋and opens the passenger door for you wordlessly. You hesitate briefly, before your body obeys with your mind struggling to catch up, sliding into the passenger seat. The leather is cool against your skin, and the car smells with a mixture of woody cologne and… well, him.
There’s an extra cord dangling by your feet, and a small case of wintergreen mints tucked inside the inner console. When you hear the driver’s side door shut, it hits you all at once that you’re inside Seungcheol’s space. It’s entirely different than being in the same cruiser as him, because there’s no radio cracking every five seconds, no partition in the back𑁋just you, him, and a full night of quiet ahead.
As Seungcheol quietly pulls out of the parking lot, you find your head leaning against the cold glass of the passenger window, eyes gazing past closed storefronts and restaurants. Then with your mind deciding it wants to screw with you, you naturally look back at Seungcheol too.
He keeps a tight grip on the steering wheel, his large arms tense beneath the compression shirt he’s wearing. You see the veins running down the backs of his hands, with his fingertips doing his usual habit of taps𑁋three beats, stop, three beats, stop. His eyes are lasered ahead, thick brows drawn together into an unreadable line of concentration. You can tell his thoughts are somewhere else.
“You think too loud, you know that?” You chime in suddenly.
His lips twitch, almost a smile that he doesn’t let fully form.
“I could say the same about you,” he responds.
A small, humourless chuckle slips out of you. “Are we going to talk about it or… pretend what’s happening is normal?”
There’s a brief pause.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a normal night together,” Seungcheol mutters in response.
Damn, he’s not wrong at all. You both have never really met a version of each other outside the chaos of what your jobs bring, outside of dispatch screaming in your ears and lives held together by seconds. Until now, it seems.
But you consider this version of him more dangerous than anything else. Because without the armour, or protocol to hide behind, you’re able to see him more clearly. And God forbid your thoughts𑁋sober or not𑁋he makes it hard for you to not want him even more when he’s like this.
Do you both clash together on shift? Yes, basically all the time. Do you go against protocol, or more specifically, his protocol? On a regular basis. Do you piss him off? It’s a daily habit, at this point. Do you make him feel something he’s spent years trying to bury?
Apparently so.
Yet despite how infuriating, reckless, insubordinate, emotional you are, and the bruises you leave on each other’s egos, he’s still here after everything. He’s driving you home. Still choosing you, in some small, quiet way. Still glancing over every now and then to make sure you haven’t passed out. Still syncing his breathing with yours like it’s second nature now.
And maybe that’s the problem. That even after everything, you still want him. You still look at him and think that you would break protocol again.
When Seungcheol pulls up to your apartment building, he puts the car in park and kills the engine, yet neither of you bother to move.
You drift your eyes to him. “Is this the part where you make sure I get into my place safely?”
A flicker of a smile appears at his lips before he’s stepping out of the car and heading over to your side, opening the door for you. He doesn’t say anything but extends a hand toward you. The night air chases away more of your whiskey haze as you sluggishly climb out of the car with his help, the warmth of his palm seeping through your skin. He lets go once you find your footing on the pavement.
Seungcheol trails a respectable distance behind while you lead him in the direction of your apartment. The elevator ride up to your floor is quiet, your eyes switching between the glowing floor number above your head and to the man who has willingly become your shadow for the night.
When your floor arrives and you silently lead him towards your door, it takes you three tries for your brain to remember which key was able to insert into your door. The echo of it unlocking reverberates through the desolate hallway of your apartment, but you don’t push it open right away.
Instead, you warily pivot around on your heel to face Seungcheol.
You should thank him. For the ride. For keeping you company. For staying, even if he had every opportunity to walk away. But the words stall into a lump in your throat.
He’s standing slightly slouched in front of you as if he’s trying to shrink himself smaller in your space. But it doesn’t do much𑁋he fills every space with his presence regardless. The singular light above your heads highlights the odd softness to his features now, with eyes that won’t stop darting between your face and the door that can make or break whatever this is.
However, you find yourself asking with quiet hope, “You think the precinct will take me back?”
Seungcheol’s eyes meet yours, his brows pinching together with the aching tenderness.
“I don’t know,” he admits quietly.
It’s painfully honest. He doesn’t offer any false comfort, no automatic reassurance to make you feel better. It’s merely the raw truth, delivered in that soft voice of his that’s way different than the one he uses to command entire scenes.
“Well.” You shrug meekly, glancing at the floor. “Doesn’t feel like I deserve it anyway.”
Seungcheol narrows his gaze at you. “That’s not true.”
“It feels like it is.”
“It’s not,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you as if to prove that point. “Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t deserve your badge, because I won’t…” He pauses, lips hardening up. “I won’t let you do to yourself what I did to me.”
You blink at the firmness of his tone, and find yourself instinctively treading your feet back to him, tilting your head up slightly to meet his eyes with your half-lidded ones. A dense pause creeps into the air that surrounds you both and burns your skin, the hallway seemingly shrinking ten times in size. Your mouth parts to say something, but nothing comes out. You remember what he told you about his former partner back in his office𑁋about the guilt that gripped him like a noose, shaped him into a shaken warrior, and carved protocol into his bones.
Almost timidly, you reach up to place a hand on his chest, immersing your warmth to the rapid pace that his heart is running. The harsh exhale he lets out caresses over your face, merely a singular breath separating the two of you at this point.
“I’m not the mistake that you think you are,” You whisper to him, and you feel the way his entire body goes rigid at your words.
Before he can deflect back, you grab him by the collar of his shirt to crash his lips onto yours. It’s not clean, nor slow, and definitely not something either of you planned for fully, despite your drunken intentions on him before at the bar. Because the second your mouth touched his, every ounce of restraint he’s withheld just crumbles into a pile of ashes.
Seungcheol kisses you back like you’re the only goddamn thing keeping him from drowning. One of his hands meets your waist to press you closer to him, while the other cups the side of your jaw. He swallows down the gasp that leaves you when he tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss. You taste like leftover whiskey, like recklessness, like something he’s not allowed to crave, but gives in anyway.
In a blur of a moment, your back hits the wall beside your door with a thud, and his body chases after yours instinctively.
“Rookie,” he breathes out roughly for a moment to catch some air, before kissing you again more fiercely this time. “Fuck.”
His body molds into yours perfectly, like a wall of pure muscle and heat. Your fingers coil desperately onto the fabric of his shirt to tug him back down when he threatens to pull away for another breath. His hand tightens at your side in response, as if he’s really, really trying to steady himself before he does something fucking reckless.
Your bottom lip is tenderly grazed upon by his teeth, your knees trembling from the contact and pulse stuttering underneath his hand. When you both finally pull away at the same time, his forehead drops to press against yours. For a few moments, the two of you listen to each other’s breathing.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” Seungcheol murmurs darkly, his hand shaking against your side. “Getting under my skin, pushing every damn button𑁋fuck, I shouldn’t be here.”
“But you are here,” You mutter back, gripping onto his shirt even tighter. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
Seungcheol pulls his face away to search over yours, gazing over your kiss-bitten lips, flushed cheeks, and glassy eyes. You can’t tell if he’s trying to look for some sort of an escape route or confirmation. But all that’s written on your features is the truth. Truth and desperation that’s been so close to pushing him off the edge several times.
He darts his focus down to your lips, to your hand still clutching loosely at his shirt, then back up. “You make it impossible not to.”
The two of you linger in this position under the hallway light for a few moments, your breaths unsteady yet still in sync after the intense kiss you just shared. Then you feel the heat begin to slowly dissolve away, watching as Seungcheol reluctantly drops his hands away from your waist before taking a step backwards.
“I should go,” Seungcheol says, slipping his hand off your jaw. “You’ve had a shit week. Got suspended. You’re not okay. And I need to𑁋fuck, I need to think.”
You hardly register the absence of his touch until he’s fully stepped back away from you. The heat of him still surrounds you like a ghost embracing over your skin. His eyes are on the floor now, or maybe at your shoes. Anywhere to avoid looking directly at you.
“So was…” You gulp down the lump in your throat, a sting developing behind your eyelids. “Was this a mistake? This is it?”
His head lifts up sharply. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Then say them,” You demand firmly. “Because it sure sounds like it is.”
Seungcheol’s jaw noticeably tightens. His mouth parts as if to say something, but nothing comes out. And the damn silence is what finally breaks you. You literally stare up at him, waiting for something, anything. An answer, a word, hell even a damn breath of fucking air𑁋but all you get is nothing. It’s funny how so little can mean so much.
A bitter laugh escapes you. “Right. Good talk.”
You’re already reaching behind to twist open the doorknob to your apartment, but not before shooting a frustrated glare over your shoulder to him.
“Forget it,” You hiss in frustration. “Wouldn’t want to break your protocol twice in one night, Sergeant.”
You don’t even give him the chance to speak; instead, you step inside your apartment and slam the door behind you. You’re too pissed to even care about whether you broke a hinge or shook the entire floor below you. All at once, you feel the culmination of everything𑁋the suspension, officers hiding behind half-assed excuses and their own cowardice, and the kiss that still burns your lips.
You throw your keys on the table and sink into the cushions of your couch, pulling your knees up to your chest.
“I would’ve gone to hell for you,” You mutter to no one. “Fucking coward.”
summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.
in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.
notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')
It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.
Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.
None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.
"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"
At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.
"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"
Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.
"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."
"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."
You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.
It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.
There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"
"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.
URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.
"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.
As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.
Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.
I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.
It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.
"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.
Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.
"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."
How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.
"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."
You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.
Looking forward to talking with the two of you.
Wait—two?
Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.
CC: Choi Seungcheol.
"Choi Seungcheol?!"
Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.
Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.
"I—he," you stammer.
Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.
"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."
You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.
"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."
Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.
"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"
You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.
"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."
Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.
The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.
It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.
"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."
The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.
Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.
Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.
"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.
You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)
For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."
You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.
He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.
"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."
At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.
"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."
He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.
"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."
That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.
Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.
"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."
"They don't have a kids menu, you know."
"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"
You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.
"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"
You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.
Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.
"You know what?"
His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.
"What?"
"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."
The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.
"I'd rather starve."
"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."
you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.
He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.
Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.
The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.
He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
"You'll never guess what I have."
"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.
Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."
"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"
"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"
"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"
"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."
He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.
"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."
"And a seat at Momofuku."
"And that."
You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.
There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.
"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."
"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.
"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."
You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.
And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.
You hide behind your computer screen.
"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"
"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."
You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.
It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.
Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.
"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.
Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.
But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).
No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.
You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.
Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?
The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.
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Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.
It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.
Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.
And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.
The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).
Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.
Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."
Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.
"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.
Hook, line, and sinker.
The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.
The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.
This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.
Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.
You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.
In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.
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Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.
You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.
That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.
This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.
You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.
That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.
"Seungcheol?"
He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.
"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."
Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.
"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."
"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.
"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."
"Who said I was pretending?"
No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.
Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)
"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."
"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."
"I never said that."
You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.
The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.
"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."
Touché, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?
"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.
"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."
"What do you think we're doing right now?"
"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.
"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.
"No, you do not get to make this about me."
Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.
How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.
"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"
"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.
"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."
Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.
"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."
"I'm no quitter."
Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.
Definitely not that one.
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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."
"Why, so you can steal my job?"
"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."
You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.
You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.
"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.
"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"
You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.
"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."
In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.
"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."
He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.
"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."
He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.
"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."
"So you're admitting this is a date?"
"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."
"Well, pity looks good on you."
And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.
"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."
"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."
Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.
"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."
"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."
Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.
You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.
"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."
You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).
You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.
You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.
"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."
It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.
"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.
"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"
"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"
You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.
"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"
If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.
"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."
"Running away?"
"Bored," you lie.
He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.
"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.
"Unfortunate."
"How do you think I feel?"
The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.
It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.
"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."
"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."
Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.
"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"
You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.
"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."
And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.
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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."
It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.
The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.
"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."
"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."
"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."
"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"
"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."
Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.
"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.
You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.
"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.
"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"
"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."
"Field trip?"
Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.
"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."
Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.
"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"
"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."
Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.
You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.
"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."
Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.
"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."
"N-not both ways?" you croak.
"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."
"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."
"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."
Whatever.
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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.
Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.
A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.
Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.
You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.
For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.
"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.
"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.
Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.
"But, thank you."
"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."
The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.
"I'm retracting my thank you."
"I'm devastated. Really."
You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.
It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.
"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"
The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.
"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."
"Yeah, but why?"
Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.
"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."
Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.
"Come on, he can't like her that much."
"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."
"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."
"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."
You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.
"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."
Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.
"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."
"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.
"Who hurt you?"
"No one did. I'm just being honest."
You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.
"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."
"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.
You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.
But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.
Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.
"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."
"I wouldn't say nothing."
He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.
Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.
Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.
"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"
You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.
Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.
These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.
"You in a rush?"
"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."
"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."
That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little.
That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.
"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.
"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."
You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.
Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.
"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"
Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.
It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.
You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.
"Stop that."
"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"
A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.
"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."
"Is it working?"
You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.
"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."
"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."
There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.
He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.
However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.
"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"
This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.
For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.
Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.
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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.
"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."
Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.
"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.
"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.
"At least I'm not a slave to my career."
"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.
"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"
"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.
"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"
"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."
You almost choke on a blueberry.
"Absolutely not."
You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.
The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.
"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"
And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.
You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.
Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.
Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.
You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.
You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).
Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.
"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.
"I'm running out of options."
"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"
You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).
Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.
"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."
Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.
You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.
The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.
The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.
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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.
Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.
That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.
You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.
He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.
"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"
"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.
"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.
"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"
Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."
"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."
"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."
"Lucky you."
The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.
Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.
You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.
The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).
It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.
Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.
He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.
"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."
"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.
Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.
It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.
"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."
You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.
"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.
A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.
The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.
You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.
You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.
You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.
Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.
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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.
It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.
The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.
In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.
So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.
All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.
Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.
The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.
The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.
Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.
Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.
"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.
You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.
You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.
She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.
Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.
The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.
To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.
One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.
You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.
No, you're definitely going to cry.
Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.
You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.
"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"
You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.
"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."
You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.
But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.
Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.
Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.
You count the seconds till he walks away.
One. Two. Three.
Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.
"Hey, you ok?"
Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.
And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.
You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.
"Whoa," he breathes.
Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.
"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.
You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.
Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.
Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.
You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.
Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.
"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."
You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.
The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.
"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.
"Yeah, I-I think so."
You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.
Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.
All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.
Just him, and you decide you like this version best.
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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.
There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.
A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.
Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.
Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.
You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.
And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.
You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).
And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)
Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.
8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.
Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.
You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.
You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.
But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.
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"Here. Drink."
You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.
But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.
Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.
"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.
"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."
"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.
Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.
You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.
"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."
"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."
Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.
"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."
"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."
Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.
"Thanks…?"
"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."
"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"
"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."
"You're literally the definition of easy."
"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."
"This is not a date. Dream on."
"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."
"It wasn't."
"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"
"Chicago."
"Same difference."
Your conversation continues as such.
Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?
You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.
You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.
You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)
After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.
It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.
It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.
First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.
It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.
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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.
He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.
"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.
"Hi."
The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.
And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.
The elevator dings.
Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.
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You have three reasons to get drunk.
1. It's Friday.
2. You finished your article.
3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.
(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)
After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.
You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.
So you get drunk.
Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.
"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"
"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.
"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"
"You got that right."
Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.
"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.
"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"
"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.
"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.
The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?
Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.
"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."
"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."
"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."
"Yours or mine?"
"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.
You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.
How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!
You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.
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It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.
You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.
"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."
"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."
Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.
"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.
"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."
It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.
"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."
"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"
"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"
He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.
"Just dates. Nothing serious."
You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.
"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."
You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.
"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."
"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."
"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."
"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.
Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.
The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.
You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.
You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.
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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.
You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.
"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.
"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."
"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.
"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."
"Or if they're trying to poison you."
"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.
"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."
You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.
"Holy shit. You live like this?"
"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"
"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.
At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.
You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.
"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.
You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.
"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."
"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."
Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."
you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.
There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.
It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.
"What, too many dates to cover?"
He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."
Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.
"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."
"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."
His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.
You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.
"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."
The table stops rocking.
"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.
Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."
"You asked."
"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."
After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.
"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"
"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."
There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."
"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"
There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.
"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."
"Wh—"
he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.
"Get. Out."
It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.
"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."
it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.
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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.
If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.
That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.
Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.
You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.
Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.
You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.
He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.
It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.
You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.
The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.
You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?
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Monday feels tilted.
There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.
You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.
"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.
He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.
You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.
"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.
Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.
Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.
All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.
You wonder what you'll be:
10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.
It's Not You, It's Them!
Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!
At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.
The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.
(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)
You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.
(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)
There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.
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Ask Samuel!
It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.
You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.
That's the only way he's beating you.
(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).
One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.
"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.
"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.
"Congrats."
"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.
"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."
For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.
"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."
"No need."
"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"
"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."
"What?!"
There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.
"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."
The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.
"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.
All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.
Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.
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To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.
When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.
You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.
You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.
And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.
He gave up.
None of this should matter to you.
You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.
It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.
His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.
"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."
That does the trick.
"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.
"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"
"What does it matter to you? You got the position."
"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."
Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.
Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.
"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."
The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.
"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."
Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.
"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."
"H-how?"
"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."
There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.
"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.
"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."
You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.
"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.
"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."
"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."
"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."
Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.
"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."
Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.
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"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"
Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.
"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."
You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.
He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."
Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.
You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.
After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.
But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.
He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)
Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.
"Afternoon, boss."
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.
He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.
"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.
"Friendly reminder we're at work."
"Everyone's at lunch, genius."
He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.
"You are the worst."
"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."
"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."
"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."
There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.
If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.
You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).
★ PAIRING: BadBoy!S.coups x RichQueenka! reader, Princess Complex!reader featuring:Joshua
☆ WORD COUNT: 18k
★ GENRE(S): smut, fake dating, Hate to love, slow burn
☆ SUMMARY: When your boyfriend Joshua breaks up with you and gets with your sworn rival, you are determined to get him back. You seek help from the known bad boy on campus who's not too fond of you. Can the campus outcast help you win your Mr.Right back?
★ ☆ WARNINGS: panic attack mention,smut/unprotected sex, y/n is a bitch, swearing, sexual acts, super brief mentions of drugs, poor description of a game of golf.
☆★ NOTES: DONT LIKE DONT READ. wrap it before you tap it. Leave nice comments please or else <3
Spending a Saturday night waiting for a text from a man was not one of your top priorities. It was a Saturday evening, and instead of being out with your girls, you're lazing around your dorm, waiting for a text from Joshua. This was your fifth fight all week, and all of this arguing was definitely not good for your pores. You were laying in bed, fluffy designer slippers kicking in the air. You scrolled aimlessly on Instagram, liking and comment on a few posts.
Normally Joshua would have taken you out over the weekend, but now that your schedule was clear, you figured you might as well take this to try and do some networking. Your father would always scold your social skills in formal settings; he said you were too “wild” and needed to “tone down the partying for the sake of the business's image.” Your figured you might as well take the opportunity to prove him wrong.
As the daughter of Carat Co., a diamond manufacturing company, it was in your best interest to keep a pristine image. The media was always attacking your family. Bringing a good image to your father’s company would benefit everyone.
Normally you and Joshua would go to the mall over the weekend, and he would let you max out his cards by buying designer bags and shoes. Instead of him spoiling you rotten, you are back to ignoring each other again after another petty argument.
You couldn't really blame him; you knew you could be a handful, and with his father giving him more control over the company, Joshua was more sensitive to your attitude. Joshua was the grandson of a CEO and his grandfather was hellbent on him undoubtedly inheriting the company. You tried hard, you swore you did, to be on your best behavior. You knew how stressed he was and your princess complex wasn't making it any better.
Normally your little quips didn't bother him; he was used to your bossy behavior, but earlier that week he had enough. He was late to pick you up from brunch with your mother, and when you called him a lousy driver, he blew up on you. Unbeknownst to you, he had just come from a failed business proposal. His grandfather was extra hard on him so he was already feeling down. In the moment, you did feel a sliver of guilt for not noticing his sour mood. You were so used to the ups and downs in your relationship with Joshua you expected him to call or text you back by now with an apology.
He was usually the one to apologize first, even if you were in the wrong. (Which was never.) In your eyes you were perfect and when he didn't come crawling back to you, that knocked you off your high horse. For as long as you could remember, you had always gotten what you wanted. Joshua was one of those things. He was your white knight, and you were not done playing princess.
As you're scrolling, you pass a post by Seo-Jun, the daughter of one of your father’s business rivals. Seo-jun has been your rival since grade school. She joined all the same teams you were in during middle school, participated in all the same extracurricular classes you took in high school, and applied to the same university as you. Seo-jun was like a bad cold you just couldn't get rid of.
Seo-jun was obsessed with proving she was better than you. Your father had outperformed hers in terms of annual business revenue once; apparently, that's all she needed to make it her goal to take everything away from you. If there was anyone more entitled than you, it was her. She wanted everything you had and made sure to get it—everything except for Joshua.
You both had a crush on him in high school; granted, Seo-jun had a crush on him first. You really only started liking him to piss her off. You both fought to get his attention, but somehow he ultimately chose you.
In the present, you can't help but quirk a brow at your screen and let out an incredulous laugh. You almost scroll past it, but when you zoom in, you're certain. It's a post of Seo-jun and Joshua in a golf cart parked in the lush grass of your favorite country club. The caption was full of heart emojis.
Was this bitch soft-launching your boyfriend?
That asshole knows how much you hate her! He was definitely doing this to get a rise out of you. You scoff and angrily type out a comment under the post. You hesitate, but ultimately erase it. You throw your phone in frustration. There was no way you were letting them know they got under your skin. You stare at your ceiling, deep in thought.
You had to think of a way to get back at him! Screw that; you needed to find a way to get back with him. Not only would it piss off Seo-jun, but being with Joshua was just too beneficial. He was basically your little lapdog. If you told him to jump, he would ask how high. Too bad he grew a backbone; you roll your eyes. And Seo-jun! She's probably over the moon. Joshua was the last thing she could take from you, and she finally got it. You would die before you let her win.
If he wanted to play that game, you would just plug in a controller. You knew you had to make him jealous, but you honestly didn't know who you could use for the task. You didn't have many close guy friends; men gave you a headache. The few you did have were also close with Joshua and definitely wouldn't be up for the challenge. The other option was choosing a guy your father had been trying to set you up with for ages. He said it would be good publicity, but you knew getting mixed up with someone like that was trouble. It was too risky and could damage your father's business relations, so that was out of the question.
Maybe you could just pay one of the less fortunate students on campus to play your new boyfriend. You chuckle at the thought. Yea right, you were desperate, but not THAT desperate. You don't think any of them would even be up to the task, given that whenever you saw the scholarship kids walking the hallways on campus, you made a point to stare in disgust.
You went to a prestigious university that normally only the wealthiest families could afford, but a few years ago, they started a scholarship fund to let in underprivileged students. You figure they should be lucky to even breathe in the same air that you bless when you spray your high-end perfume.
There was only one out of the unlucky bunch of outcasts that you had ever even held a conversation with, if you can even call it that.
Choi Seungcheol was a mystery to some but a nuisance to you. He was never in class, caused trouble everywhere he went, and always started arguments with the snobby, well-off students. Well, maybe they picked on him first, but regardless, he should know his place. There was even a rumor that he sold drugs behind one of the old lecture buildings. Even with all the rumors surrounding him,. He was still able to maintain his scholarship. You deduced he must either have a brain in there somewhere or is bullying some poor kid into finishing his class work.
You tried to steer clear of him, but somehow you ended up being one of his targets. You were one of the wealthy students he would throw jabs at, resulting in many arguments. He was the most insufferable man you had ever met. One afternoon, as you were walking to class, you saw him coming your way. You would have gladly taken a detour, but if you were late to class, your father would kill you. Time is money. You roll your eyes as you pass him, and he scoffs in return.
“You can roll your pretty eyes as much as you want sweetheart; you’ll never find a brain up there,” he chides, making you stop in your tracks and turn to face him. The audacity of this man!
“Animals speak? Science sure has come far.” You bite back.
“Yeah, real mature,” he said, clicking his tongue.
“You started it, you mutt.” You continue walking, throwing the insult over your shoulder. You were so over this exchange,
“Takes a bitch to know a dog, huh?” He spits at your retreating back. You whip back around at the insult. You stumble over your words in shock. No one would get away with talking to you like that.
“I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you! You're no good, and when I tell my father about this, you’ll be sorry!”
“Oh? Big girl can't handle her own problems. Gotta have Daddy take care of them for you?” he smirks. You were beyond flustered as you stormed off. That's how a lot of your encounters would go, with him somehow leaving you at a loss for words.
You curse yourself; there was no way in hell he would accept your offer, and even if he miraculously did, he was definitely going to make your life a living hell. You weren't even sure where to find him, and there was no way you were going to go around campus asking for him.
In the present, you sigh. It is going to be hard to track him down now that you are willingly looking for him. You were just about to give up on the whole revenge plan once you realized how much work it would be, but then a ding from your phone caught your attention. You look at your screen, and it shows one new message from your friend Lia. She sent you a new post from Joshua's page.
"Girl, you gotta see this,” her text reads. In the picture, Seo-jun was now sitting in Joshua's lap as they locked lips.
WAS YOUR BOYFRIEND HARD-LAUNCHING THIS BITCH?
You audibly gasp. And here you were about to be the bigger person. If they go low, you go to hell, and who other than Satan himself to help you with your scheme? Somehow, he always seems to appear when you least expect him. Who knew the day would come when you were hoping to hear his crude remarks? If you had to turn the campus upside down looking for Seungcheol, you would. If you had to get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness, you would probably bend your knees a little bit, clasp your hands together, and say please, maybe once? That was all he would get out of you, but you had high hopes that he would play along. You knew he would love to have some type of power over you; knowing your fate was in his hands was enough to please him.
“I'll see you on Monday,” you plot.
It's Monday morning, and you're already off to a terrible start. You have scoured high and low looking for Seungcheol in between your classes, but he was nowhere to be seen. You hoped he didn't skip class and stay home. You're almost tempted to ask around, but decide against it. Asking questions would raise too many red flags, and Seungcheol was not well-liked on campus; you doubted anyone knew where he was.
You trudge into your biochemistry class dejected, so tired that you collapse onto your seat. You lay your head down on your desk and close your eyes to rest. After a few moments, your professor finally shows up. You should probably pay attention as he explains today's lab, but you're still too tired to even bother. Luckily for you, you sat at the back of the class.
You don't think he would notice if you took a quick nap and got comfortable. You are almost completely under when you hear the professor scoff. You think he's about to reprimand you, but what he says instead has you sitting up straight just the same.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Choi; I thought I'd only have the joy of seeing you during testing.”
"Sorry sir, I was feeling a little under the weather,” he yawns unabashedly, like he just woke up from the best nap of his life.
"Well, it's nice to have you sitting in on a lab for once; these are also a huge percentage of your grade.” Your teacher nags.
You almost don't believe it—that bastard was in your biochemistry class the whole time? Your professor, who doesn't look impressed at all by Seungcheol’s story, tells him to quickly find a seat. Seungcheol begins to walk towards the back of the room. He locks eyes with you as he approaches the empty desk next to you; at least that's where you thought he was going.
“Get up; this is where I always sit.” He instructs
You blink twice at his impudence. You have sat here every day…all year. You have to bite your tongue; if you want his help, you have to be nice. You fight the scowl from your face.
“Of course.” You get up reluctantly and move one desk over.
He gives you a weird look. The you that he knew would have put up more of a fight and called him out on his bluff. He's convinced you've been a victim of body snatching, and the person in front of him was an imposter. He sits cautiously, eyeing you up and down.
You expect him to at least take notes given the fact that he's missed months worth of class, but you should have known better. Instead, he just sits there, lying back in his seat, arms crossed over his broad chest, as he inspects you. He partially sat here to rile you up. He wasn't interested in what your professor had to say; he would do the lab after hours. As much as the professor nags at him, he will allow the makeup. Seungcheol just liked the eerie quiet of an empty building; he worked better. It was seldom that he came to class; he did his own independent studies and just showed up on exam days to ace them and keep his grade afloat.
The desks were closely packed together,which is another reason why you sat in the back away from others. You liked your space. Seungcheol, who was manspreading so much that his knee was against yours, seemed to enjoy your space as well.
You're tempted to knock his knee away in disgust, but you remember again that you actually need him, so you keep yourself in check. You don't realize your glaring eyes have started to wander from his invading knee to his face. You rake his body over and can't help but stop at his thighs. They were so thick, you wondered if he had to jump to put jeans on. Your eyes continue up until they reach his smug face. He waits for you to blow up at him, but you just blankly study his features; you never noticed how handsome he was. His obnoxious comments were really taking away from the view; he should learn to talk less and smile more.
He's more than a little disappointed that you didn't respond to his knee nudging yours; you were no fun.
“What's wrong? Why is Miss Princess being so quiet today? I didn't know you could be so docile.” He jokes, and he wonders what's gotten into you.
“Wait for me after class. We need to talk.” You demand.
“That's not how you ask for favors, pretty girl.” He shakes his head. “You were being so good to me earlier; what happened?”
You sigh as you think to yourself. You hadn’t even gotten yourself involved with this man yet, and he's already working your patience. He's already making you regret this. You pinch yourself and breathe in deeply. You can tell Seungcheol enjoys watching your internal struggle. It's not like it's the first time you’ve ever had to be polite; you could do this! The only thing that could account for your peculiar behavior today was whatever you needed from him, so he is figured it must be pretty important.
“Puh-” You stutter
“almost there, you got it!” Seungcheol says
“Puhleeee” You stammer again. This time, he says nothing as he waits patiently, gesturing for you to continue.
“puh-lease,” you let out a staccato beat, finding it easier to say if you split up the syllables.
You pat yourself on the back. That was enough strenuous activity for today. You look up at Seungcheol, meeting his gaze. He looks satisfied enough but you're unable to tell if your hard work has paid off.
“Ok, let's talk after class,” He says nonchalantly as he turns back to face the professor. He's given up on bugging you, so he pretends to at least pay attention during the lecture.
Class is over, and you pack your things slowly, waiting for everyone to clear out. You can't risk anyone overhearing you, or else it would be over before it even started. Once the classroom is empty and you're sure you're alone with Seungcheol, you look over to see him looking bored, pushing his pencil back and forward on his desk as he waits for you to speak.
“We need to go somewhere more private.” You say.
Seungcheol rolls his eyes at that. “You're losing me love; I don't have all day. No one’s even here.” He gestures to the empty room
“Then give me your number,” you continue. “If you're busy now, just text me when you're free! I promise it won't be a waste of time.” You don't want to go into too much detail; you're too paranoid that someone was curious to see why you were hanging back after class with a scholarship kid. Maybe someone was listening outside; you don't know, but you refuse to take a chance. You reach out your hand, gesturing for him to hand over his phone.
He unlocks it, handing it back to you, and you quickly send yourself a message. Satisfied with your handiwork, you grab your things, wave goodbye, and leave. Watching your retreating back as the click of your heels sounded throughout his ears, all Seungcheol could think about was how peculiar you could be at times and just what it was that he had agreed to.
It wasn't until later that night that he texted you, letting you know he was finally free. You send him the address to a restaurant he didn’t recognize and instruct him to be there in the next hour. The restaurant you picked was completely off campus; you wanted to make sure it was a place that presented zero chance of you running into anyone you knew.
When you arrive at the slightly run-down mom-and-pop shop, you find Seungcheol already sitting in a booth. You approach and notice he’s ordered a shake and fry. He's too busy munching on his food and scrolling on his phone to acknowledge you.
Even if he wasn't preoccupied, you doubt he’d be able to recognize you by the way you're dressed. You're dressed in a cheap party city wig that was haphazardly slapped on your head. You wore a trench coat that definitely stood out in the warm weather of spring and thick-rimmed sunglasses. You look ridiculous, but it had to be done. If you wore any of your regular clothes, someone would definitely recognize you; you had a very distinctive style. All your clothes were custom-made and tailored to you. You sit down in the booth in front of him, clearing your throat and drawing his attention. A look of confusion crosses his face.
“It’s me.” You pull the shades down just slightly to give him a good look at you.
“I know…” he deadpans.
“I didn’t want anyone to notice me,” you explain, snatching the wig from your head in embarrassment.
“It's almost 80 degrees outside; you look stupid.” He can't help but laugh as the initial shock wears off.
“You think I don't know that!” You reach for a fry and snatch the shake out of his hand, helping yourself. Your mood changes in an instant upon tasting the flavor. "Omg, I love chocolate shakes.” You sip happily on your new drink.
Seungcheol sighs heavily but lets you have it without a fight. “What did you need to talk about?” he reaches for a few fries and dips them in your shake before eating them.
“I need you to ask me out,” you state plainly, taking a long sip of the shake, hoping the chill can stop the heat of embarrassment from crawling up your neck. You hated this feeling; you were never anxious. What really made you nervous, though, was Seungcheol's laid-back demeanor.
“And why would I agree to do that beautiful?” he smirks, observing you nervously chew on your straw.
You rolled your eyes at the compliment; you knew he was being patronizing. He was trying to get you worked up, and it was working. Suddenly, the fire that he was used to was roaring behind your eyes again.
“Because you are a selfless person who helps people in need,” you say with a condescending smile.
“You? Needy? When have you ever needed anything from anyone, let alone me?” he asks.
“We just have to pretend for a few months. I just want to make Shua jealous so he comes back to me.” You cut to the chase.
“Oh? Lapdog ran away from home?” He redirects
“Jus’ means a new position has opened up,” you shrug
"You once told me that breathing the same air as me was a biohazard because I was poor." he furrowed his brows in disbelief.
“And in debt.” You correct.
“Shitty scholarships,” he shrugs factually.
“And if I can cover what they can't?”
Now you seem to have his attention. He wishes you would have said that from the beginning; it would have saved time. You knew he wouldn't do this out of the kindness of his heart.
“How much are we talking?” He licks his lips.
You were already ahead of him. You pull out a folder from your trench coat and slide it to the other side of the table. The action reminded me of the old noir movies your dad used to watch. Seungcheol can only narrow his eyes at your antics. This couldn't get any more cliche.
Seungcheol takes the folder and skims the contents. His eyes grew in size, betraying the poker face he wore. He knew you desperately needed his help, but he didn't think you were this desperate. You must really, really love Joshua, he thinks.
“I know I'm asking for a lot so I'm not afraid to compensate.'' You continue to explain. “If more is needed, don't be afraid to speak up.”
He skims over the details and reads the agreement. After the contract was up, he would receive a lump sum amount for his time, and on top of that, every time you needed him for an official public appearance, he would receive additional payment. He continues to read and sees that physical contact is also in the contract. You would also pay for each kiss, and anytime he had to hold your hand. Seems excessive, but there are no arguments on his side. At one point, you go over a set of rules. Seungcheol had already skimmed over them but listened anyway. The rules were as follows:
No unnecessary kissing or touching
No unnecessary hangouts/meetups
No pursuing other people romantically while the contract is active
The contract expiration may be subject to change in the event that Joshua Breaks up with Seo-jun sooner
“I want to add a rule,” he adds confidently.
“no,” you scowl.
“Then I'm out,” he says nonchalantly.
“Ugh! Fine.” You throw him your pen. He takes it happily and begins to make changes to the page. He hands the pen and paper back to you and you review his notes. You give him a look before rolling your eyes. You were ready for this whole exchange to be over so you accepted the added rules with no further pushback. The rules now read the following:
No unnecessary kissing or touching
No unnecessary hangouts/meetups
No pursuing other people romantically while the contract is active
The contract expiration may be subject to change in the event that Joshua Breaks up with Seo-jun sooner
No swearing at Seungcheol or else punishment will be received
No name-calling Seungcheol or else punishment will be received
“Sign the bottom dumbass,” you smile.
“Did you even read it?” He groans
“We haven't signed anything yet so I still have free reign to call you whatever I want.” You quip as you poke your tongue out at him.
“Just give me the damn pen,” He huffs.
The next couple of days were spent easing into the fake relationship, trying to be as natural as possible. You couldn't just show up to class the next day as a couple, not when everyone knew your history together. They had all bore witness to your many scuffles. You needed to make sure you were seen having more friendly encounters, so that meant no more insulting words as you passed each other in the halls. You were going to have to start staging interactions. You made a point to wave at each other and eat together in places that everyone could see. People couldn't help but gossip and started to speculate if you guys were dating. When you guys were spotted walking to class together holding hands, people could not believe their eyes. It wasn't until the rumors reached their peak that you bothered to confirm them. You uploaded a new post to Instagram. It was a simple picture of Seungcheol and you at a local cafe. You decide to confirm the rumors with a simple heart emoji in the caption; there is no need to say more.
Hows that for a hard launch, Joshua?
You almost had everyone fooled. Your friends are the only ones who don't believe the rumors. They knew you hated Seungcheol, and they were constantly trying to get the truth out of you. To them, this was completely out of character, and you knew you had to come up with something to get them off your back. Eventually, you told them that your dad had cut your allowance short and you wanted to rebel and piss him off. They reluctantly bought your story; it didn't bother them very much; they were used to you dropping things once you were bored with them.
Now that your fake relationship has taken off, the real game could finally begin.
It's the week after establishing your relationship in the public eye, and you invite Seungcheol over to your apartment. You want to brief him on the next thing you have in mind. You get a text from him letting you know he's in your driveway. You have to jog across your dorm to get to the door in a timely manner. The dorm you're staying in doesn't hold a candle to your family's home, but it's big enough to be a hassle to have to cross.
You open your door and greet the man waiting. He was dressed very comfortably; he had told you earlier that he would come after mixed martial arts practice. You're a good host, so you show him around before leading him to your office and sitting him in a swivel chair.
“Ok! Tomorrow is Monday. This means Joshua will be going to Spade Oaks; this is the perfect opportunity to make him jealous.” You begin drawing stick figures on the whiteboard that spans the back wall.
“What’s spade oak?” Seungcheol yawns. He looks tired; practice must have taken a lot out of him. His hair was ruffled, no doubt from the sparring that took place earlier in the day. You almost wanted to grab a comb and fix it for him, but you had more pressing matters to attend to.
“It's the country club I'm a member of. I only got the stupid thing because Shua likes golf,” you shrug offhandedly, drawing more details on your figures
“That sucks.” Seungcheol remarks.
“I know, I prefer tennis,” you shrug
“I meant the drawings,” he says, stifling a laugh.
“Just pay attention!” you huff. “This is important business," you said, setting the marker down with a clack.
He takes a deep breath to ward off anymore laughter. "OK, OK, continue.”
“Tomorrow I'm going to Spade Oaks to show off my new boyfriend, and hopefully we can catch Shua in a friendly game of golf.” You finish.
“Lucky for you, I actually played a little golf in high school.”
“Really!”
"Mini golf," he says, laughing at his own dad joke.
You throw your dry-erase marker at him in reply to his stupid pun. You almost swear at him but hold your tongue. Seungcheol stares at you expectantly with a raised brow, challenging you to break his rule. He was more than disappointed when you didn't take the bait. You let out a sigh and collected yourself before returning to the whiteboard and using the extra marker that was attached to draw a new figure into the scene.
“If Shua really is there, Seo-jun is likely to have tagged along. She would never pass up a chance to try and one-up me.” You turn back to Seungcheol
“Got it, golf. This was great, but you really could have just texted me this.” Seungcheol gets up and stretches.
His shirt rises slightly during the process, allowing you to catch a brief glimpse of his happy trail before it returns to its proper position. You are even more annoyed by his ability to look good in sweatpants. That was enough for today; he was clearly over it, and so were you. You usher him to the door, but before pushing him out, you give him a stern warning.
“If you screw up tomorrow, you're not getting paid!” And just before he can complain, you slam the door in his face.
Seungcheol meets you first thing in the morning. When you arrive at Spade Oaks, you look him over one more time, making sure his appearance is perfect. He's dressed lightly for the warm weather. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a black polo shirt that almost looks a size too small as it constricts against his arms and chest. His ass is definitely fatter than yours in those slacks, and it's making you mad. Get a grip. You shake the thoughts from your mind and loop your arm around him as you walk.
“Are you ready to have fun today, babe?” You ask jokingly, making obnoxious kissy faces at him. Seungcheol smiles bitterly in return.
He grits his teeth and puts on a false smile to match yours, "Of course, sunshine."
You guys compliment each other so well
You show him around the grounds. Your little tour not only introduces him to some of your acquaintances but also serves as a good way to look for Joshua without being too obvious. After another impromptu introduction, you finally spot the man you were looking for alone on the outside deck. A crooked smile makes its way onto your face as you casually lead Seungcheol outside.
“Oh, Joshua? What are you doing here!?” Of course he would be here; you two used to frequent this place all the time. You were together so often that the staff looked Seungcheol up and down like he grew another head before they realized he wasn't Joshua.
“Oh, I'm just here with Seo-jun. We're about to head down to the golf course.” Joshua was a bit taken aback at your sudden appearance, especially with a new man in tow, but he couldn't help but smile in triumph when he saw your nose scrunch up at the mention of Seo-jun. “Who's your friend?”
Before you can introduce him, Seungcheol extends his arm for a handshake.
“Im Seungcheol, I assume you're the ex?”
Joshua lets out an incredulous huff at the statement. “Yeah, that ex,” he states bitterly, shaking Seungcheol's hand in a tight handshake.
You're sure he's making reference to how long he and you have been together. He's the ex of 4 years who she tells you not to worry about.
This was clearly working, and you could jump for joy, but your joy was short-lived because you happened to catch a glimpse of the Incarnate Devil out of the corner of your eye. Seo-jun emerges from the restroom and immediately rushes over to Joshua when she realizes it is you he is been speaking with.
“I'm so sorry to keep you waiting sweetie,” she pouts, then places a quick kiss on his cheek.
She turns you like an afterthought. She looks you up and down. "Hello y/n, long time no see. We should really catch up, yeah?” She doesn’t ask; she simply pulls you off the deck and inside the bathroom.
Once you're far away from any prying ears, she lets you have it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” She smiles despite her harsh words.
“I'm here to play golf.” You smirk nonchalantly as you walk up to the mirror in the bathroom, fixing your hair.
"Oh please, you hate golf.” She stands beside you with a huff, touching up her makeup.
“Guess things change, unlike you. Still chasing after my shadow?” You ask, making eye contact with her through the mirror.
“I know why you're here. Stay away from him,” a calm washes over her features in seriousness.
“He's all yours; don't worry.” You raise your hands in defeat. “If we're done here, I've got a game to start.” You say this as you turn to the door.
“How about you and your new little boy toy play us in a quick game of Two-Man Best Ball?” Seo-jun successfully stops you in your tracks.
“You're on.” You smirk.
You and Seo-jun walk back to the deck, and she fills Joshua in on the game you agreed to play.
“You don't even like golf.” He states.
“I guess I just like playing it with Seungcheol,” you shrug. You can see his eyebrows furrow in betrayal; you never played golf with him.
Seungcheol takes your hand in his and kisses the top of your head. “I like playing with you too baby.”
Out on the course, Seungcheol plays a lot better than you expect. You can tell it's his competitive attitude that drives him, rather than the prospect of trying to impress you. The score is a lot closer than you would like, but you take what you can get. You had no interest in golf, but you at least knew the basics, so you were grateful you could at least keep up.
Joshua's turn is next, and he swings his club, putting the golf ball off into the air. Even though he doesn't score well on this swing, Seo-jun makes sure to encourage him just as much. You would not let her out-girlfriend you, so whenever Seungcheol scored well, you would give him a kiss on the cheek with some words of encouragement.
You were starting to have fun. You had almost forgotten that the reason you were doing this was to make Joshua jealous. Words of affirmation were slowly becoming genuine, and you even found yourself anticipating the short kisses you shared. It was the last thirty minutes of the game, and you weren't even looking back to see Joshua's reactions anymore. You found that you could only focus on the way Seugcheol would either hug you or kiss you on the top of your head, following with a “that's my girl” whenever you would score well on a hole. You had to snap yourself out of it. Every time you guys had some form of skinship, he would be getting paid.
Of course he's being extra affectionate. It's his job, dummy. You chide yourself in thought.
You are the last player to swing, and it is neck and neck at the final hole. If you scored well, it would put you ahead of Joshua and Seo-jun. It wouldn't be by much, but it was still a win. Joshua wasn't as good as you expected if a bunch of newbies were keeping up with him. You steel your nerves and make your final swing. It was a beautiful swing that ended the game in your favor. You immediately drop your club and run into Seungcheol's arms to celebrate. It seems he has the same idea because his arms are already open and waiting for you. He picks you up effortlessly and spins you around in a tight embrace. When your feet touch the ground again, Seungcheol kisses you without a second thought. He pulls away just as quickly, and you're left dazed. Seo-jun's annoying voice brings you back down to earth.
“Winning isn't everything guys,” she grumbles.
You roll your eyes then you finally remember Joshua. The look on his face made everything worth it. On the outside, he was calm, but you knew him too well for that to be true. He's upset. The tight smile and deathly grip on the golf club were dead giveaways. Now the real question was if he's upset about losing or if he's jealous. After a moment of debate, you decide that you don't care about the reason. As long as you were able to get under his skin, you consider that a win.
“Good game,” he grits reluctantly. “Let's go, Seo-jun,” he states as he packs up his equipment.
Seo-jun, ever the follower, runs after his retreating back, “coming sweetie!”
Seungcheol already had your things packed up as Seojun and Joshua pulled off in their golf cart. As soon as they are out of earshot, you turn to him.
“So I guess you're good for something,” you say.
“Don't start princess; we were having a good day,” he exhales exasperatedly.
He was right; today had been fun, but that was the problem. You were not supposed to have fun with Seungcheol, You were not supposed to like his touch as much as you did and you sure as hell were not supposed to crave his kisses. The one you were supposed to want was Joshua but right now all you could think of was Seungcheol. You had to put a comfortable distance between you two again so you did what you did best and threw a wet blanket on all the fun you had.
“I was only pretending to have fun! How could I have fun when Seo-jun is all over Joshua? In case you forgot, he's supposed to be mine, not hers.” You grit out, suddenly finding it a bit hard to find your words. The hurt that flashes in Seungcheol's eyes almost makes you regret opening your mouth. It's not like this was new; you say stuff like this all the time but for some reason, after a day of joy and laughter, the cold reminder that this was all just temporary was not welcome.
“Whatever.” He throws the equipment in the back of the golf cart, not wanting to argue anymore. “Get in.”
You followed his lead and got in the cart. The ride back was a silent one.
After that day, Seungcheol’s attitude towards you completely changed. There was no more playful banter or flirty pet names; it was straight business. When you were in public, he played his part and immediately pulled away when the coast was clear. When you had paid him the sum that you owed him, not even a thank you was muttered; he just took the funds and went on about his day. This shouldn't bother you, but it does. You shouldn't care about his feelings, but you do. It's not like what you said was wrong! Why are you being treated like such a bad guy when all of this was a lie? Still, for whatever reason, you find yourself trying to be in his good graces again.
You're slightly late to your biochemistry class. Since you started dating, you have made sure that Seungcheol and you walk into class together. Appearances were everything. Today, though, you told him you would be running late. You come into class with two frappuccinos instead of the usual one. You sat on his desk, forcing his attention up from his phone and onto you.
“Is this your way of saying sorry?” He relents but accepts the gift.
“Don't get ahead of yourself; they just gave me an extra one,” you state matter-of-factly.
You were apologizing. You would never come right out and say it but you did feel bad. There's no better way to fix problems than to throw money at it. You would rather do that than talk about the cause of your little outburst on the golf course. Seuncheol doesn't expect much else out of you, and truthfully, he's surprised he even got this much. He had already decided to let it go; he just wanted to see how much you would grovel first.
Answer: Not a lot
And just like that, he's walking you to your next class like nothing happened. He mentions offhandedly a judo match he has later that day; he even invites you to watch him spar.
“And why would I want to watch two sweaty men throw each other around?” you inquire.
“Because you're my girlfriend, and you're supposed to support me.” He extends his arms, handing you the books he's been carrying for you, marking your arrival at your next class. You take them without a word and kiss him on the cheek for show.
“Of course, how could I forget.” you smile sarcastically.
“I'll send you the address later.” He swats your backside as you walk into class. You turn to face him, but he just sends you a shit-eating grin. You figure it was his form of payback. You try your best to hide the small smile that breaks across your face.
He said he would text you but he ends up calling after you finish all your classes. You thought it would be a quick exchange of information but you end up staying on the phone with him all the way until you get home. It was the longest you had ever spoken to each other without throwing around insults. He tells you about how he trained in taekwondo for 7 years and that he recently picked up judo. Today's match would be judo; it would be his first one upon picking up the sport. As he tells you more about himself, you find that you enjoy listening to him speak. When the conversation switches gears and it's your turn to talk, you don't say much. You're not one to open up easily; what could he possibly want to know? You're rich; that's all that matters.
You have to end the call to shower and get ready for the match. After you shower, you get ready to put on your favorite designer skirt, pairing it with a frilly crop top. You don't forget to accessorize with a rose gold Cartier bracelet and matching necklace. You throw on your Celine Ave shoulder bag and grab your shades. You top it all off with your favorite pair of Louboutin heels.
Earlier over the phone, Seungcheol told you to dress casually because he knew you would stick out like a sore thumb otherwise. You hate being casual; casual was boring, and casual didn't get your attention. For all you knew, this was casual; it was just designer casual.
It takes you about 20 minutes to get to his martial arts gym and when you step out of your pink Porsche 718 boxster, all eyes are on you. You pull your shades down over your eyes and smile at the attention. You walk inside and Seuncheol is already waiting in the lobby for you with a disapproving look on his face.
“What's the matter, babe?” you smile
“You're causing a scene,” He groans
“Sorry, should I have driven the Pink Audi instead?” you shrug and grab his hand. “Lead the way,” you urge.
Seungcheol scoffs in amusement but follows your order. You hear a few whoops and hollers as he takes you to a matted sparring room, but one glare from Seungcheol shuts it all down. When you enter the room, his opponent is already warming up. As soon as you step from behind Seungcheol, his opponent coos upon seeing you.
“It's a shame you brought your girlfriend; now she's going to have to watch you lose.” He teases playfully
“We’ll see," he replies coolly. He turns to you and grabs your face, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Maybe all the gawking really did bother him.
“For good luck,” he whispers and releases you.
Your face begins to heat, and you're afraid he could feel the heat seep into his palms, which still cradled your face. You nod dumbly before finding your seat. It's not long after Seungcheol finishes stretching that the match begins. It's exactly as you had expected—two sweaty men throwing each other around on a dirty mat—but you couldn't keep your eyes off of Seungcheol. You surprised yourself at how loudly you could cheer.
The way he forces his opponent into submission and pins them to the mat made butterflies erupt in your stomach; you kind of wanted him to throw you around next. The way he uses his strong thighs to lock onto his opponent to ensure they don't move and the way his chest heaves at the extraneous task makes your mind wander to unholy places. You are so far gone that you can’t even remember how the game ended. You assume Seungcheol won with the way he helped his opponent to his feet. They make small friendly banter as you watch from the sidelines. Once he's done, he approaches you with the widest grin you've ever seen. You have grown accustomed to his scowl; you didn't even know his face could do that. His face lights up when he smiles. Under his tough exterior, a soft light shone. You wanted to see this side of him more.
“I just need to help clean up, and we can leave, ok?” He's dripping in sweat, still trying to catch his breath.
You smile and congratulate him. He looks like he wants to hug you but decides against it. He knows you’d throw a fit if he got any sweat on your designer. He gives you one last smile before heading back to the changing room.
When he comes back, he starts straightening up. You're sitting on a bench watching him put up the mats and clean the area. You enjoy the silence that settles, and you enjoy just being in his presence. Once he’s done, he comes over and sits down next to you.
“I’m proud of you princess; you didn't complain at all today,” he teases. “Who knew you could be well behaved?”
You were just as surprised; today taught you a lot about yourself. First and foremost, you would kill to be manhandled by Seungcheol. Second, you learn you definitely have a thing for his thighs. Lastly, you learn that praise makes your stomach twist in all the right ways.
“You smell; go shower. I'm tired and ready to go,” you utter, never finding it easy to agree with him.
“Why don't you join me princess? Give you a reward for being good.” His voice drops to a whisper. “What are you thinking about, huh? Want me to throw you over my shoulder and take you with me? Ask nicely, and I might be gentle.”
Your breathing picks up, and you want to disagree, but you can't find your words. All you can do is stumble over a response.
“wha-I don't,” you stutter
“Just kidding, doll.” He teases with a smirk. Then he leaves for the showers and you're left trying to figure out what just happened.
An emergency meeting is called later that week. You decide to meet at Seungcheol’s place; he lived closer to campus, and you were too impatient to wait until you got home to go over the details. You make your way up the stairs of his apartment, him not too far behind, as you ramble about how important it is to pay attention. You both make it to his apartment, and he unlocks the door, trying his best to tune you out. He enters first, and before you can even step through the door, a white fluff ball bounds to the door. You immediately step back outside.
“What is…that?” You don't even attempt to hide your disdain.
“I told you I had a dog,” he shrugs, picking up the dog and cooing at her affectionately.
Now that you think about it, he did mention a dog. “Oooh, Koda?” you try.
“Kumma,” he glares. “She's my little princess; isn't that right baby?” he coos even more affectionately.
Being jealous of a dog was not something you wanted to admit. You already don't like dogs but you especially don't like this one.
“Cute, but I don't want her getting her dirty paws on my Louis Vuitton,” you snide.
Seungcheol rolls his eyes and he walks further into the house with Kkuma in his arms before disappearing around a corner. A few minutes later, he returns empty-handed.
“I put her up, now come in; your letting the air out.”
Once inside, you scan the house and you take your shoes off by the door. “At Least it's clean,” you say
Seungcheol stayed in a small apartment on the second floor. Granted, little furniture occupied the space, but even so, it was roomy. You wouldn't give it too much credit, though; it was still far smaller than the space in your home closet. Seungcheol can feel your judgment.
“I'm never inviting you over again,” he says with a shake of his head
“I didn't even say anything!”
You both sit down in his living room and get comfortable. He leans back against the couch and waits for you to begin your rambling.
"Tomorrow, my father is hosting a rooftop dinner to celebrate the expansion of the company.” You start off, “Shua's father and my father are business partners, so that means Shua is bound to be there.”
He doesn't know why, but hearing you call Joshua by that nickname upsets him. You only ever call him by his name. But when it came to Joshua, it was still Shua this, Shua that. He wanted to Shua’t himself in the head.
"Ok, so you want me to attend this dinner party with you, is that right?” Seungcheol recaps.
“Precisely,” you smile and pat his head.
You tell him he's probably going to have to meet your parents. Honestly, you were more nervous about that than anything else. It really shouldn't matter to you because you guys would be breaking up by the end of the year anyway, but you still want him to leave a good impression on them for some reason. You coach him on all your parents favorite things to help him if he ever finds himself stuck in conversation with them.
“Any questions?” You finish up.
“What do you have against dogs?”
“Important questions”
“This is important.”
“important to me.” You correct
“I guess not,” He sulks.
You sigh and give in, “they’re loud and obnoxious.” You deadpan.
“Just like you?" Seungcheol smirks
“Do you want to get paid or not?” You roll your eyes at his comment.
“How about instead of paying me this time, you grant me one wish?” he says
“Fine, do what you want; just remember tomorrow to come dressed in your best and be on time.” You can already guess what his wish may be as you get up from the couch and collect your things.
You arrive at the party early to help your mother set up. You spent the whole time trying to win Seungcheol some brownie points with your mom. You rambled on about how sweet and charming you found him. Your mom would adore anyone you brought home, but you still felt the need to sell it. Shockingly, it wasn't hard to talk about his good qualities; you didn't find yourself lying like you thought you would have to. Soon enough, you knew your mom was won over before he even got there. Now it was time to worry about your father.
Your father was already upset that your relationship with Joshua ended on a bad note. He was working on closing a deal with Joshua’s father, and the breakup made closing negotiations a hassle. Your father had adored Joshua, so you knew Seungcheol would come in with 10 negative points already in your father’s book.
You're almost finished setting up when guests start to arrive. The party was about an hour in when Joshua and his father showed up. You were starting to get antsy with no sign of Seungcheol. You tried to keep your temper in check, but you told him to be on time! He wasn't picking up his phone either. You didn’t have time to worry about him; you had to jump from circle to circle, making sure everything was in order. Even though your parents were the ones hosting the party, they left you in charge of greeting guests. You're making your rounds and you run into Joshua and his father.
“Oh! Mr. Hong, such a pleasure to have you!” You put on your best hostess voice.
“So nice to see you again, Y/N. I'm finding everything just fine,” Mr.Hong responded. Joshua's father loved you as much as your father loved Joshua. They were both devastated when you two broke up.
"Shua, don't be rude; say hello.” He nudges his son. Joshua gives his best smile and greets you, “I'll leave you two to catch up, ok?” Mr. Hong says he is making his leave. He was probably hoping you two would use this moment to rekindle.
“Where's your boyfriend?”
“He's late,” you say worriedly. At first, you were upset but now as more time has passed, that feeling has shifted to worry. You wonder if he was okay.
“What about you? You came here alone?” You change the subject to keep the thoughts away.
“Seo-juns in Paris for fashion week”
“I hope she's having fun.” Joshua knows you don't mean it.
This was the first time you and Joshua had been alone since the breakup. You think he looks handsome in his suit with perfectly styled hair. “Hey, can we talk?” He looks at you seriously.
“About?”
"Us,” he says, hopefully.
This was the moment you were waiting for. The moment he comes crawling back. You wait patiently for him to continue. You are on the edge of your seat, but before he can speak, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a firm chest.
“I'm sorry I was late love.” A voice says and places a kiss on your neck. You can't see it, but from Joshua's face, you can tell Seungcheol is staring him down. “I was picking something up for you.”
You turn around in his arms and smile, “its ok, I was just catching up with Shua.”
There it was—that stupid nickname again. He doesn't even properly greet Joshua as he pulls you away. You're not sure if you're relieved or upset that he pulled you away from the moment. Part of you wanted to go back and hear what Joshua had to say. The other part was afraid of the outcome. If he wanted to make up and get back together, would you? Could you just "break up" with Seungcheol on the spot, never seeing him again, and returning to cold stares as you pass each other in the halls? But that's how this was supposed to end anyway. It's not like you had feelings for Seungcheol.
Right?
It isnt until after he pulls you away that you take him in. He wore a sharp royal blue suit and carried a bouquet of daisies. He looked unbelievably good. You took the flowers without a thought and gave a faraway smile.
Seuncheol wonders what you were thinking about—was it something Joshua said? Where are you upset that he was late? He knew you were planning to kill him later, and that your smile was just for show.
“What were you two talking about?” he inquires.
“It was nothing; we weren't even talking for long.” You explain.
“Why do you call him that?”
“What?”
“Shua. you always call him Shua.”
You shrug “It's just a nickname; what's the problem?”
"Well, how are we supposed to be fooling anyone when you're calling each other cute little pet names like you're still together?”
"Fine, cheol, don't throw a fit.” You wrap your hands around his neck and kiss his nose. “Who would have guessed you're the jealous type?”
You wanted to at least try to pretend to be a little angry at him, but it seems like all your frustrations wash away when you're in his arms.
“Don't call him Shua anymore.” He sulks.
“Yes sir,” you joke.
He looks down at you for a couple more seconds and smiles. He is about to lean in for a kiss when your mother comes over and coos.
“So this is Mr.Choi? I’ve heard so much about you! How are you?” Your mother greets you two.
You break away from each other so Seungcheol can greet your mother properly.
“He brought me flowers, mom. Aren’t they beautiful?” You brag.
Your mother takes the bouquet and gasps once she notices the flowers that sprinkle throughout it. “Oh my! This is great news! Let me get your father!” Your mother scuttles off, leaving you a bit confused; They were just flowers?
“I think she likes you,” You smile
“One down, one to go,” He jokes
“Yeah, about that~'' You chuckle nervously. Not only was he already negative 10 points with your dad but his tardiness didn't really help his case.
“I'm almost certain he wont like you,” you half-joke. If Seungcheol is discouraged, he sure doesn't show it.
“That's ok; i'm used to disapproving parents,” He shrugs
You had almost forgotten that he was an outcast on campus. You suddenly feel bad for all the times you picked at him and made him feel lesser. Sure, he had a reputation on campus for being a bad boy, but the worst thing you had ever seen him do was j-walk. He could be a bit of an asshole at times, but he was likable once you got to know him. You hate that you have been one of the many people to judge him.
After a few moments, your mother is dragging your father over, speaking enthusiastically about something. Whatever it was had your father frowning deeply. This didn't look good.
“Mr. Choi, was it?” Your father extends an arm for a handshake.
Seungcheol puts on his most charming smile and gives your father a nice, firm handshake.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he says, returning the greeting
“You're a few hours late, son,” your father quips. Your father wears a smile, but you know it's just for show. "And I hear your bringing us some shocking news as well?”
Seungcheol falters. "I'm sorry for my tardiness, sir. I make no excuses," he responds.
Your father appraises him for a second longer before letting out a breath “While I do think it is irresponsible for you to get my daughter pregnant, I hope you are planning to marry her; a child out of wedlock would not look good for the company.”
You choke on air, and you swear your eyes almost burst from their sockets. You snap your head to look at Seungcheol, and he wore a similar expression as you.
“Excuse me, sir?” he sputters out.
“My wife says you bring daisies? I don't know much about flowers, but she says they can symbolize childbirth. Was she mistaken?” Your father tests.
“Im sure thats true sir, but I think theres a misunderstanding. We are not expecting a baby,” he laughs
Your father's shoulders relax, and he laughs the nerves away. Your mother sends an apologetic smile your way and rubs your fathers back to soothe him. You were sure he would have had a heart attack if you really were pregnant.
“Im so sorry, dear! I must have misunderstood.” She says.
Your father finally smiles and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for joining us today; we really appreciate it.” He says
Your father turns to you and gives you a hug. “His tardiness does not impress me, but he's not the worst.” He says this to you, pulling away from the hug. He bids himself farewell as he goes to chat with some colleagues.
You turn to Seungcheol. “Why daisies?”
“The shopkeeper told me they meant new beginnings and love and some other bullshit. I didn't know they could mean childbirth!” Seungcheol explains in disbelief.
"Well luckily, my dad didn't kill you; I think that means he likes you?”
“Thank God,” he sighs.
Following the minor hiccup, the rest of the night went smoothly. Seungcheol is like a natural; he's able to follow along and make small talk with a few of your father's work colleagues, even managing to get a chuckle out of a few.
You enjoy the rest of the night socializing by Seungcheol’s side and having a few drinks. You had seen Joshua storm off earlier; you could only assume your plan was working, but you couldn't find it in you to care. It was starting to get late, and you're ready to go. Seungcheol offers to drive you home since you had come with your parents. You quickly find your parents and bid them farewell, and you two leave the party together. Mission Success!
“Even though you were late and almost gave my father a heart attack, you did pretty well. I guess I’ll keep my promise. Whatever you want, it's yours.” you say.
"Good, because I want you to promise to go to the dog park with me. I want you to get along with Kkuma.” He smiles wickedly at you.
You instantly regret giving him that wish coupon.
Was this outing breaking one of your rules? Possibly, but it was essential that your closet stay in season. It was time to buy the latest fashion collections, and you would die if you had to carry all of your bags.
Cue seungcheol.
At first, he protested, but after waiving around a little money, he folded. You had honestly expected him to complain a lot more, but this was your third store you had gone to, and he hadn't complained yet. He was a lot more vocal about your outfit choices than you thought he would be. He told you what he thought would look nice on you. No matter how many bags you handed him, he took them without a word.
“You’re being nice today,” you say in passing.
“You look cute when your in your element,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
You dont know why you do it but the next store you lead him to is a lingerie shop.
Maybe it was his good behavior or his comment earlier, but you think he deserves a treat. When you look back at him over your shoulder, you can see the tips of his ears burning red, even though he tries his hardest not to show it on his face.
“Its fine if I try something here, right?”
“Pick up whatever you want, love.”
The pet name has your heart doing cartwheels.
This was going to be fun.
Now normally, you would never try on a set in store, but you planned to buy whatever you brought into your fitting room. You have Seungcheol drop the bags off at the front so he can trail behind you comfortably.
“Why dont you pick out something for me to wear”
“What, so you can wear it for Shua?” he says, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Joshuas’ not the one standing in a lingerie shop with me.” You challenge, "Are you scared?”
He was standing toe to toe with you now, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes. “You gonna let me see it?”
“That and more if you impress me,” you say, giving him a sly smile.
That gets him moving and his eyes scan the store, You think hes going to pick out the slutties thing he could find but after walking around the shop for 10 minutes looking at all types of sets, you realize he was looking with careful consideration
Finally, he hands you a lacey pink corset with thin bows on the shoulder that also laced up the middle. It was part of the set, the other part being a pink garter belt attached to matching lacey pink panties. It was very pretty and delicate, while still being sexy. You nod your head in appreciation. You could work with this. You take the fabric from him and you walk towards the changing room. You stop and look over your shoulder.
“You coming or not?”
“You cant be serious,” he says. You could tell a part of him still wasn’t taking your invitation seriously and that you were just messing with him.
“Dont tell me you all bark”
"Actually, its the opposite,” he says, sending you a smile “im afraid i might bite”
This was soooo breaking a rule.
You know you were the one who boldly suggested it, but you still make Seungcheol stand in the farthest corner of the dressing room, turned away from you. You make him pinky promise to keep his eyes closed until you tell him to open them.
You change silently and appraise yourself in the mirror. The set hugged your body in all the right places. The color complemented you so well that you praised Seungcheol for his taste in your head. You turn towards his back, and after a few seconds of debating, you tell him its ok to look.
When he turns around and opens his eyes, he immediately drinks in your figure. You suddenly became shy under his gaze. You could feel your heart pick up, and you almost stumbled over your words when you asked, “h-how do I look?”
“Can I take a closer look?” Before you can answer, he has his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and looking at you from up close. His eyes slowly trail down your front before he spins you around in his hold to have you face the mirror. He's looking at you, and your looking at him through the mirror. Through the mirror, you can see his eyes admiring how your ass looks wrapped in the pink lace. He has a tight grip on your hips, and the way he bites his lip makes you clench your thighs. Suddenly, he's pulling you back, flush against his chest. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and you almost gasp. His eyes were hooded and shadowed in lust. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and wraps his arms around you, laying one palm flat against your abdomen while the other rubs your side affectionately.
“You look good enough to eat,” he says while holding your eye contact in the mirror.
He noses at your neck, inhaling your sent “you gonna let me show you I can bite?” he chuckles from behind you before nipping at your ear.
You try to come up with a response but all you can do is trip over your words
“Whos all talk now?” He says light-heartedly.
“The contract” is all you can manage
“Right. Your right,” he pulls away from you with his hands raised at his sides "I don' want to break our contract,” he says sarcastically before turning around again and facing the wall.
You hurry, get changed back into your normal clothes. You pay at the front and collect the bags you dropped off earlier. The ride back to your house was silent but only because the air was so thick with sexual tension that you thought if you opened your mouth, you would choke on it.
You won't see him again until the next weekend. He decided to use his wish coupon to bring you to the dog park. He doesn't mention your last meeting, and your grateful because you're in a living nightmare. There are all sorts of dogs running around, spit-covered tennis balls flying through the air, and loud, annoying barking sounded throughout the park. It would be an understatement to say that you were not thrilled to be here. Seungcheol, on the other hand, looks like he could stay out here all day. You can just imagine his imaginary tail wagging. He takes Kkuma out of her kennel and leashes her to bring her to the park. He then hands you a few toys to carry.
“You're really making me do this, huh?”
“Stop being like that; it’ll be fun,” he says, leading you into the main area of the park and unleashing Kkuma. She seems to be well trained and doesn't run far.
Seungcheol takes one of the toys from you and plays with Kkuma. He's playing a game of tug of war with Kkkuma and lets her win. He seems to be having so much fun with Kkuma you almost think he's forgotten about you. He takes a break to give her water.
"Alright, now it's your turn.”
“I'm not in the right attire for this,” you try to make up an excuse. Your over-the-top outfit drew attention the moment you stepped into the park. Someone was probably wondering why you would wear something so expensive to a dog park.
“That's your fault,” he shrugs. Seungcheol had warned you the moment he saw you step out of the house. Maybe it was time to start listening and stop being so hardheaded.
You cautiously approach Kkuma with the rope, and you crouch down to offer it to her. She stares at you before hesitantly going for the toy. You play a short game of tug of war, letting her win almost immediately.
“Ok done! We played; can we leave now?” you conclude.
“You promised!” Seungcheol frowns in disappointment.
You sigh; you're already here; you might as well try. You reach out to pet Kkuma, and she rolls over cutely. You coo at her and rub her tummy. OK, maybe she was precious. You hold up a ball. It's like she's frozen as her eyes lock on the ball. She springs onto her paws and wags her tail. You throw the ball, and she chases it, bringing it back. You do this a few more times before trying out the other toys.
You're having so much fun that you forget that your wearing heels, and when you go to playfully chase after Kkuma, you lose your balance. You’re able to right yourself before falling and let out a sound of relief. You step forward, but something slick causes your foot to slide forward slightly. You lift your foot to discover that you’ve stepped in dog poop.
“Just wonderful,” you say to Kkuma with a tight smile. Seungcheol is watching from afar. You have to squint to see him, but you're sure he's laughing at you.
“Your daddy is an asshole, you know that?”
Kkuma barks at you in retaliation.
“What do you know?” you argue back. Sticking your tongue out at her childishly.
You hobble back to Seungcheol and plop down on the bench next to him.
"Is this what you wanted? I got dog shit on my Choos." You pretend to be a little annoyed; you were only joking.
“Here” He pulls a few wet wipes from an attachment on Kkuma’s leash. He pulls your legs over his lap and wipes the poop from your shoes. “Are you ready to go?” Seungcheol can guess you're probably reaching your limit for outside activity for the day.
You would have been out here for at least an hour and a half, and while it was nice to see Kkuma having fun, you were already sweating more than you would like. As you head out, you offer to play with Kkuma for a while longer indoors.
Once you arrive at his house, Seungcheol lets you have fun. You're sitting on the floor and although Kkuma jumps all over you, you don't seem to mind. This was definitely not something you would have allowed a few days ago so Seungcheol is proud of your progress.
“Should I buy her a bow? Won't that be cute?” You mention.
Seungcheol finds it cute that you're already ready to spoil her. “I think she's spoiled enough,” he argues.
"Well, I'm her mommy and she can have whatever she wants.” You say defiantly.
“I thought you didn't like dogs, “ He teases.
You ignore him and continue playing until you tire yourself out. You are just lying on his floor, too exhausted to straighten out your rumpled clothes, but he thinks you are the most beautiful in this moment. When you're relaxed without a care in the world, those are the moments he can peek through the gaps in your defenses.
“It's getting late; I should head home,” You declare, giving Kkuma a few more pets before finally standing.
“You could stay the night,” Seungcheol Proposes.
This was a bad idea. Staying by Seungcheol's side for longer than necessary would only make your confusion about your feelings toward him worse. You're ready to decline but one look at his puppy eyes and you couldn't find it in yourself to say no. You agree to stay the night and he gives you some of his clothes to wear guiding you to the shower. When you close the door behind you, let out a sigh. This was going to be a long night.
You shower and put on the borrowed clothes. You glance in the mirror and, although it's not what you usually wear, you love it nonetheless. You loved how the too-big clothes draped over your frame; you never wanted to give them back. You tell him to freshen up as you leave the restroom. He gets in the shower after you and tells you to grab something to eat before you lay down. It was late, so you grabbed something quick and headed straight toward the bedroom. It wasn't hard to find, given how small the apartment was. You make your way into his room and crawl under his blankets. It was like having your own little haven; you felt safe and secure. His bed was wonderfully warm and smelled just like him; you never wanted to leave. However, something in the back of your mind kept reminding you that you were breaking one of your most important rules.
Rule #2: No unnecessary hangouts/meetups
Well, this was necessary, you argue. It was far too late for Cheol to drive you home. What if he fell asleep behind the wheel on the way back? You reason. Yup, you were doing this for his safety! How selfless of you to worry about his well-being! You pat yourself on the back.
“What are you doing in my room?” A topless Seungcheol inquires.
“Getting ready for bed? Why are you naked?” You try not to notice how he dries his still-wet skin.
“It's my house.”
"Well, then you should be well acquainted with your couch.” You raise an eyebrow, not making a move to unwrap yourself from the blankets.
“The couch was for you.” He says.
You? Sleep on a couch? Never in your life.
“You meant for me to sleep on the couch?” You laugh incredulously, and here you were worried about his hypothetical safety.
Seungcheol doesn't respond, just going to settle in behind you on the bed, pulling the blankets from you, leaving you cold, and wrapping himself in them. He had really bad insomnia already; he could not deal with sleeping on the couch.
“I can't sleep on the couch; I need proper beauty sleep; if I knew you were gonna make me sleep out there, I would have gone home,” you whine.
He lifts up the blankets and reaches to wrap an arm around your waist. He pulls you into his chest and wraps you both in the blanket. “Then sleep here,” he says, closing his eyes and getting comfortable.
Your heart will not stop pounding out of your chest. Your head spins from the close proximity and his heady scent. You try to help your case by turning away from him, but his arms remain wrapped around you, causing him to spoon you. You can breathe a little easier, so you scoot closer to him. You must have scooted too far back because his hand suddenly grabs your waist, halting your movements.
"Stop moving," he says breathlessly.
You can only manage a sheepish "sorry." He relaxes his grip on you and settles in.
Your mind wanders, and you can't help but notice that all of the dirty things you have ever thought about him come to the forefront. You recall what just happened: how he only needed one arm to stop your squirming, how he gripped your hip and pinned it in place. You wonder if he would pin you in other positions as well. You think back to the time of the sparring match and the way he threw his opponent to the ground. You wanted him to manhandle you and treat you like nothing. Seungcheol brought out your darkest desires.
It was later in the night, and your racing thoughts were keeping you awake. You never thought you would do what you're about to do, but you couldn't hold back. You take a small peek over your shoulder to look at Seungcheol. He was sound asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A trembling hand slips down the front of your shorts. You try to be as subtle as possible as you circle your clit through the fabric of the boxers Cheol gave you to wear. You push your face further into your pillow to try to muffle your noises. When you inhale, you can only smell Seungcheol’s cologne, and you almost moan.
You slip your hand into your underwear, collecting your juices and using them to coat your fingers. You quickly ease a finger in and thrust shallowly. You wanted to get this over with quickly, but you would need more. You slip in another finger. This time, you use deep thrusts to work yourself up. You shyly grind your hips into your palm, stimulating your clit, biting your lips at the pleasure. You move carefully. You roll onto your back, and use your other hand to pinch your nipples. At this point, you didn't care how obvious you were; you just wanted to come. You hoped against hope that Seungcheol was a deep sleeper.
You have to bite back moans as you picture your hands as his. You add a third finger, and you almost whine; it was barely enough. You knew his fingers would stretch you farther than this. You craved his rough touch. After a few more messy thrusts, you cum with a shudder. You have worn yourself out; you wait a breath to make sure you’re off the hook before you carefully remove your hand from your shorts. That's when a hand grabs your wrist. Turning your head, you see Seungcheol staring back at you.
“You dirty fucking slut,” he rasps, sleep still coating his voice.
As you open your mouth to defend yourself, he licks the tips of your drenched fingers, causing you to gasp. The argument dies in your throat as he looks up at you, moaning at the taste.
“What do you think you were doing, huh?” Your hips automatically roll into his touch as he reaches over and shoves his hand down your shorts.
You cry out, your face burning with shame, "I’m sorry."
“No you’re not; you're practically dripping all over my fucking fingers, baby. Don't lie to me.” Your juices make a soft, wet sound as he plays with your folds teasingly.
"Tell me what you were thinking about," he orders, circling your clit.
Your first orgasm has left you sensitive, so you try to squirm away. He sits up more and uses his other hand to pin your hips to the mattress.
"Uh uh, baby, you're not going anywhere," he says, slipping his middle finger into your heat and thrusting experimentally. “Your so fucking wet. Such a dirty little pussy.” His ring finger joining in next, fucking you harder.
When the sensation gets too much, you can’t help but squirm and moan. With a cry, you grind up into his touch as you grab hold of his wrist to keep it there. You can feel your thighs shaking
"Cheol, please I can’t take it,” you cry.
"Yeah, you can princess; be my good girl," He kisses you to muffle your sounds. His walls were thin, and he didn't need any noise complaints from the neighbors.
Your moan gives him the chance to put his tongue in your mouth. Your entire body begins to tremble, and just before you let go, Seungcheol pulls away completely. Your eyes well up with tears as you look at him.
You cry, "Please, Cheol, please, I need you so badly." Tears stream down your cheeks.
He kisses your tears away and gives you a gentle kiss. “You ready to be my good girl?”
"Yes, I'll be whatever you want me to be." You weep.
He pulls your legs apart and wedges himself between them. "Then tell me what you were thinking about."
He circles your clit teasingly, coaxing you to answer him. When you attempt to move your hips to feel more of his touch, he uses his own hips to pin yours down. The thought of how he would feel inside of you makes you groan. You can feel his length straining through his sweatpants. He felt so thick and heavy that you could cry.
“I'm waiting princess.” He kisses your neck slowly.
Breathing deeply, you tell him how much you want him to talk down to you and toss you around. You wanted him to break you and use you. You did not want him to think of you as a porcelain doll; you wanted to be his personal fuck toy.
He smiles wickedly at you. "Has my princess been corrupted? Am I a bad influence?"
You shake your head. “No, I’ve always been like this.” you admit.
“Is that so? Don't worry, I’ll give you what you need." He licks his lips before returning his fingers to your heat.
He pulls your shirt over your chest, leaving love bites all over it. You can hardly breathe; he was giving you too much and not enough at the same time. You can feel your high approaching rapidly. He pulls away from your chest and places a hand on your neck, not quite choking you but rather testing the waters. You nod at him, pleading with him to choke you. Seungcheol applies just a little more pressure and you moan. He's fucking you so fast that a loud, squelching sound echoes throughout the room. If you were in your right mind, you would be embarrassed. You try to warn him of your impending orgasm, but your voice gets stuck in your throat as you cum all over his fingers. He lets you ride out your high for a little while longer before gently pulling out. Your eyelids become heavy but a light slap against your cheek brings you back.
"Wake up baby were not done," he warns.
You could barely keep your eyes open; all you could make out was his messy hair as he positioned his head between your legs. You whined in protest; you were too sensitive for oral. He slaps a hand against your thigh, and you bite your lip in a silent cry. When he licks over your clit you break.
Your back is arcing off the bed, and your thighs are squeezing together. He uses his strength to pin your thighs down as he eats you out. There's nothing stopping your loud moans now. Tears flow freely down your face as shock waves pass through your body. You're a babbling mess.
"You ok, baby? You want to take a break?" He asks, his face covered in your slick. His eyes are hazy with lust, and your gut tightens at the sight.
"I need you inside, right now," you say.
"Are you sure, baby? I don't want to break you?" He asks
Suddenly, your energy returns at the comment. You want him to break you. He has already broken you. You push his head away from your core and tug him up to meet your lips. He's kissing you until your last breath before you pull away.
"Should I ask Shua?"
That nickname would be the death of you, but it did the trick. Soon enough, he was manhandling you onto your side. He threw your leg over his shoulder (pretzel position) and teased himself at your entrance.
"Say his name again while I'm fucking you, and I'll send you back covered in bruises." He says it with a harsh slap to your thigh. He was gripping on so tight that you were sure he would keep his promise.
You were sure that the sight awaiting you in the morning would have you wet all over again. You loved the way love brusies looked against your skin. It was a reminder to you that you were not the perfect princess you made yourself out to be. There was something darker lurking underneath.
He pushes inside, and despite his efforts to stretch you out, it still stung. You reveled in the feeling; you loved the way his girth split you open. This angle had you drooling. He was able to hit deep as his hips rocked into yours. You could not keep up; the position had you effectively pinned to the mattress. All you could do was take.
He kisses the knee thats over his shoulder before gripping your thigh tight. He shoves it against your chest before slowing his thurst down to a more sensual drag.
"Look at me. Let me see those eyes," he moans.
He's moving you around like a rag doll again. He has you completely on your back now, switching to missionary to be closer. He leans down and kisses you again. You don't think you could ever get tired of his lips. They were so plump and soft that you couldn't help but bite at them a bit. You could feel your release twitching in your gut, and the power of it scared you. You try to warn Seuangcheol, but he will not let you pull away from his lips for more than a second. You were certain he was completely pussy drunk at this point because he was mumbling nonsense against your lips.
"Feel so good"
"You can take it.”
"You're so wet"
"Good girl"
Those were just some of the ones you could make out. A harsh tremor runs down your spine, and you cum violently. You're pushing him out as you squirt all over his abdomen. You can barely come down, but Seunhcheol recognizes you're at your limit, so he strokes himself as he finishes all over you. Both of you are gasping for breath by the time you're done. This time, sleep hits you like a brick.
When you wake up, you almost think everything was a dream, until you look down and notice you’re still dressed in his clothes. These clothes were different, though and so were the sheets. He must have cleaned you up from the mess you made last night. Your face heats up at the thought of what happened. You carefully look to your side but find that the bed is empty. You breathe a sigh of relief. This was not good—not good at all.
Rule #1: No unnecessary kissing or touching
You had now broken two of the contract's most important rules! Do you regret it? No, but still! You had to find a way out; you could not confront him right now.
As you scope the room for something more appropriate to wear, you find he has laid your clothes out on the nightstand next to the bed. You dress quietly and sneak down the hallway. You peek around the corner and see the front door—your ticket to freedom. The only problem was that the door was just past Seungcheol's kitchen, where he was making breakfast. You can't help but feel bad when you notice him making two plates. He was trying to make sure you ate, and you were plotting your escape. You just needed some time to gather your thoughts; you would face him later. Before you can make a break for it, Kkuma notices you and barks, alerting Cheol, and his voice calls out to you.
"Have a seat princess; you can leave after breakfast," he says without turning to face you.
You curse the dog under your breath and head for the kitchen. “Good morning, Cheol.”
He gives you a plate of eggs and toast in return for your greeting. “Don't make it weird; we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” he says before sitting down and eating his food.
You take a seat in front of him and eat silently. As you try to think of something to say to ease the tension, he speaks again before you can get a word out. “Let's just forget about last night, ok?” he says. "When we're done, I'll take you home.” You just swallow your food and nod; you can't lift your head to look him in the eyes.
It's been five days since the incident with Cheol. You ended up telling him some bullshit excuse as to why you were acting strange. You lied and said you were just missing Joshua's touch and that you apologized for using him to get off. Even you didn't believe the excuse, but he said it was fine, and you have not spoken since.
Why can't you just be honest with him? You had not given Joshua a second thought since the family dinner, so to hell with him. While you can’t pretend to have never loved him, you were aware that your feelings had changed a long time ago. You knew deep down that you wanted Seungcheol, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it.
The "what ifs" frightened you. What if you screwed it up, like you did with Joshua, and drove him away? You knew you were difficult to deal with at times, but what happens when he just can't take it anymore? You were afraid of losing him, but you knew that if you did nothing, you would lose him regardless. You couldn't bear to think about it any longer, desperate to escape the thoughts that had flooded your mind.
You text your friends and ask if they have any plans for the night, and they let you know about a party they are going to later. This was exactly what you needed—a night out with friends to remind you of who you were. Hopefully, you will realize that choosing Joshua is the right decision. That was the way things were; you had to maintain the status quo. You let them know you were on your way.
You meet up with your friends and get completely shitfaced. You had come to this party expecting to forget about him, but all you could think about was Seungcheol and his stupid, cute dog. You could not live without him, and if this party taught you anything, it’s that you would never be able to move on from him.
A few hours passed, and you were starting to feel extremely overstimulated. The music was too loud, the flashing lights were too bright, and the random bodies pressed against you from all sides were not helping. You tried not to freak out. You just need to leave and find somewhere quiet. You are going to be okay. You quickly push through the crowd and rush up the stairs. You had no idea whose house this was, so finding the bathroom was difficult. In a state of urgancy, you simply open the first door you come across. This was not the bathroom, and the couple who occupied the room were not pleased. You close the door and feel your breathing quicken. You need to be alone right now. You try another door and find a different bedroom. You curse your state of inebriation. If you weren’t so drunk, you would probably be able to navigate the house a little better. You open the door next to it and finally find the bathroom. By the time you cross the threshold and lock the door behind you, you have had a total breakdown.
So much was happening, both physically and mentally. Your physical senses were still reeling, and your mind could not find a single coherent thought to focus on other than Seungcheol. You crawl into the tub, and the cool surface soothes you a little. Feeling lost and unsure of what to do, you take out your phone and dial the first number you find. Maybe someone else could make sense of your thoughts if you couldn't. When a voice responds, you dump everything on them.
"Why do I feel this way?" It really hurts." You slur and can hear the voice on the other line worrying, but you can’t make out what they are saying.
“I hate him so much. I should be with Joshua, but he had to go and ruin everything! It wasn't supposed to be like this, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about him. I think I love him, but no matter how I feel, he will never love me back." You ramble.
The voice speaks again, but you can only make out the word "who."
“That dumb Cheol! He's so stupid! I hate him. Why did he have to go and make me fall in love." Your voice cracks, and you start crying.
Your makeup was undoubtedly ruined by this point. You no longer hear the voice on the other end of the line. You check your phone and see that they have hung up on you. When you realize you are alone, you cry more.
You must have cried so hard that you fell asleep because you kept slipping in and out of consciousness. When you wake up, someone pulls you out of the bathtub and carries you in their arms. You fall asleep against their chest. A car jolts you back to consciousness, and as you drive away from the party, you discover that you are strapped in the passenger seat of a familiar car. The alcohol in your system is still too strong, and you are asleep again. When you wake up again, warm, gentle hands sweep the makeup from your face and tuck you into a warm, cozy bed.
You didn't open your eyes to see who the hands belonged to; all you knew was that you felt safe in their presence. You drift off to sleep again with a smile on your face
You groan in agony as you awaken to the sun shining on your face. You bury your head under your pillow to get some more much-needed rest. You try to drift off again, but you realize something is wrong. These sheets felt familiar, but not in the sense that they belonged to you. You sit up in bed, taking in your surroundings. You were in Sungcheol's bed! Although you were still wearing your party dress, your makeup had been taken off and your hair had been taken out of its tight ponytail. You do not see Seungcheol anywhere, so you get out of bed to find him. If anyone could explain how you ended up here, it would be him.
As you enter his kitchen, you are confronted with a familiar scene: Seungcheol is cooking breakfast with his back to you, his broad shoulders flexed as he beat the eggs. You clear your throat and he turns towards you.
"You’re not gonna run away from me this time, are you?" He jokes, but there is a hint of sadness in his eyes.
"What happened last night?" You ask before taking a seat at the table. Still too exhausted to think clearly, you yawn and rest your head against the table.
"You were so messed up when you called me last night; you refused to answer any of my questions. I had no idea where you were or who you were with, so I called some of your friends, and they told me where I could find you," he explains as he continues to cook breakfast.
Your face immediately warms up as memories from last night flood back. You pray that you didn't really confess to him and that you were simply remembering incorrectly.
"Do you remember what you said on the phone?" He hesitates to ask as he plates your food.
There is no point in trying to hide it; you might as well rip the bandage off.
"I remember what I said—or at least some of it," you admit nervously. "If you are asking if I remember telling you that I love you, then yes," you respond. You don't think your ego could take it if he rejected you.
He sets a plate in front of you and leans down to kiss your forehead.
"I’m proud of you for not running away this time," he jokes affectionately.
“Did you know this whole time?”
“No,but I knew you needed time to sort something out.”
“Do you love me?” you Say hesitantly
“thought i made that obvious when i ate you out?”
The eggs you have been pushing around your plate suddenly catch your attention as your face instantly becomes heated.
“Dont get shy on me now princess. You didn't get the message? Do i need to show you again?”
"Oh, i think i got it,” you sqeak
"No, come here baby, let me show you how much I love you,” he teases.
"Let us eat first, then I am all yours," you promise. You knew the food would have gone cold by the time he was finished with you. You did not want his hard work to be in vain.
Later, Seungcheol has you pinned to the bed. After your breakfast conversation, you could not keep your hands to yourself. As you two became entangled in the sheets, you were stripped down to your bare skin.
You had been craving his touch without even realizing it. He had big, rough hands, and you loved how they felt on your skin. Seungcheol appears to be taking his time with you, kissing every inch of your body and leaving no part of you unseen. He trailed kisses from your collarbone all the way to your ankle. Despite being rough around the edges, he could be surprisingly gentle. You enjoy how he treats you like a goddess, so you just relax and accept everything he has to offer.
At last, he moves back up your body and gives you a passionate kiss. As soon as he pulls away, he cannot resist admiring your face. He studies your features and plants a kiss, first on your eyelids, then on your nose, and lastly on your lips. He seals his lips with yours in a quick kiss before he pulls away and spreads your legs to plant kisses where you most need them. You were practically ashamed of the mess he would discover. You had been dripping all over his sheets while he worshipped your body.
“so dirty, I really need to teach you not to make such a mess,” he teases. “Dont worry, I'll Always be here to clean it up.”
The way he sloppily eats at you has your back in a permanent arc. your legs shake at the harsh slurps and the deep thrusts of his tongue into your pussy. You despised how easily he could rile you up and have you wrapped around his finger. It was supposed to be the other way around.
No matter how hard you tried to will your hips to stay down, you couldn't help but grind against his face. Seungcheol was not helping your case either, as he drew you closer, wrapping his arms around your legs and laying his warm palms against your stomach. He massages the skin there before moving his hands up and groping your boobs.
All the sensations were becoming to much, and you knew you could finish on his tongue alone. You grab his hands and intertwine your fingers as you brace yourself. Your climax hits you like a wave, and you try not to drown as you hold on tight. Your legs shake pathetically around his head as he places a few more kisses on your clit before pulling off. He gives you a few moments to catch your breath as he places wandering kisses against your hot skin. Once your breathing returns to normal, he lines up at your entrance, waiting and silently asking for permission with his eyes.
You nod hastily because, if he wasn’t seven inches inside of you, you would bite his head off in the next five seconds. He slips inside, grinning at your impatience. You make an effort to keep up with his thrusts, despite the fact that you are already sensitive after your first orgasm. He presses his hips into yours repeatedly while nestling deeply in the bend of your neck. He was breathing heavily in your neck, and you could hear him straining to keep his moans at bay.
The way your wet pussy claps against his abdomen and smears all of your juices on his skin is really messy. Your skin makes a wet applause as his hips chase yours.
Gripping the powerful muscles of his back, you were unable to keep your hands still. His thrusts picked up speed, and you could sense he was getting close to the climax as you held on tightly. He moans as he finishes inside. His sounds were heavenly, and you cum again at the sensation of being filled with his cum.
You are definitely going to pass out. His arms comfortably encircle you as you feel him draw your body up against his side. You fall asleep, and when you close your eyes, you know you will wake up right where you need to be.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Honestly, this was a fic idea that I have had for awhile. This has been sitting in my drafts for at least a year. I really wanted to trash it, but I stomped on business and finished. Hopefully you enjoyed it, because I'm not really feeling this one. I really didn't feel like writing a full scene for this, but I didn't want to leave you hanging, so excuse it if its rushed.
Pairing: university student!Jaehyun x kindergarten teacher!reader
Genre: fake engagement au, neighbors au, age gap, hate to love, drama, romance, smut
Word Count: 26k
Warnings: reader is five years older than Jaehyun; Jaehyun doesn't treat women very nicely in the beginning; there is a lot of scheming going on; some characters have a questionable moral compass (cheating, blackmailing, lying, traditional family arrangements); there is an explicit rated scene (handjob, mc gets hand over mouth) and two suggestive ones, all of which you can skip if you want
Summary: You hate your neighbor in room 803 to the core, because his raunchy and very vocal bed activities always keep you up at night. There is no scenario in which you can ever imagine tolerating a lousy brute like him—until you get entangled in a web of lies and your neighbor comes into picture to play along. Your raunchy, lousy neighbor, who, to your surprise, fits the role of your fake fiancé very well. Almost too well.
A/N: Hi! So this is the result of ring window shopping and the Unconditional MV. I drew inspiration for the opening scene from my very own fic "Sinned" that I've first published on Aff. Leave feedback if you want <3 Happy reading! (D-482 until Jaehyun returns)
Finding a suitable apartment in the downtown of a very busy metropolis was a challenge.
There were many things to consider during apartment hunting: the location, the price, the layout, the facilities, and also the distance to the next station depending on your commute. Nobody wanted to live in a rundown one bedroom on the 10th floor with no elevator and paper thin walls for which you still paid a fortune.
You were very lucky to have none of that.
Your apartment consisted of two rooms in a new building and was located on the 8th floor. It had three elevators, a concierge service, and even a small convenience store connected to the lobby. It cost more than a third of your salary, but with all the benefits, it was worth it. You couldn’t have thanked your co-worker enough to have passed it on to you when she had moved away, so that you could finally live closer to your workplace.
You loved your new apartment.
But you hated your neighbors.
A neighbor on the 9th floor liked to play the drums for at least two hours a day and usually chose to do that when you had already returned home from work. A neighbor on the 7th floor liked to discuss things very heatedly with his girlfriend right by the window. Three rooms away from you on the 8th floor, there was a dog barking constantly, and somewhere else in the building, a tenant invited guests over to throw a party almost every Saturday night.
But your next-door-neighbor living in room 803 was the worst.
“Yes, right there! Oh my… yes, yes yes!”
It was 1am on a Sunday night and you were supposed to get up in five hours, not having found even a single minute of sleep until now since the noises had been going on for an hour already at this point.
“Oh… Jaehyun! Ahhh! Oooooh!”
You pressed your pillow against your face and muffled your agonized scream in it. Almost every night, it was the same. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, and you were able to count yourself lucky if he paused these sessions for two or three days in a row. But then they came back even stronger. And tonight was such a night.
“Yes, oh god… oh my god! Ahhh, Jaehyun!”
You clenched your fist, raised your arm and hammered against the wall.
But instead of slowing down, stopping or even reacting to you, you now heard his bed pound against the wall that separated your rooms, accompanied by the woman’s constant screaming.
“Shut up, it’s in the middle of the night!” you yelled.
“Get lost, we’re done already!” he yelled back.
Following his words, you then noticed the silence that had suddenly filled your room, finally allowing you to welcome your well-deserved sleep as tomorrow, another long workday awaited you. But your neighbor, of course, didn’t understand as he would start all over again tomorrow night.
He was a university student in his senior year, his naturally dark hair constantly messy and bleached blond to the brink of extinction, always dressed in joggers and hoodies, and apparently enjoying life to the fullest.
He was your neighbor Jeong Jaehyun, living in room 803 and your personal enemy since day one.
____
After having tried to conceal the dark circles under your eyes with heavy makeup the next morning, you were late again as you let the entry door fall closed behind you and hurried along the hallway with your heels audibly clacking over the floor. You called for the elevator by pressing the button and waited nervously, praying in silence that you would still catch the next subway.
From behind you, you heard another door getting opened and pivoting around, you spotted a woman stepping out of apartment 803. Or better say, she was thrown out as she only stood in the corridor in her underwear, another two pieces of clothing falling to her feet that had come shooting from the opened entry door.
“I don’t even get breakfast?” she sulked as she picked up her clothes from the floor.
“I told you not to rummage through my home.”
Jaehyun emerged by the door now, his blond hair sticking out to all sides as he seemingly tried to block her away back in. He was wearing a bathrobe and was clearly still tired too. Even though you wanted to, it was so hard for you to look away as you were curious about what was going on.
“You’re an asshole!” the woman ranted while gathering her clothes. “I was only looking for a toothbrush!”
“You can look in your own home.” Jaehyun then dropped something else next to her on the floor while she was still crouching down. “Don’t forget your purse.”
You thought you were fast in turning away from the scene without anyone noticing, but he was faster in catching your curious eyes before you were facing them with your back. You drew in a breath and hoped he wouldn’t call you out on that, but Jaehyun wasn’t that kind of person.
“Hey, Miss Neighbor!” he yelled. “Next time, instead of complaining… how about joining?”
Bringing your bag closer to your body, you suppressed your embarrassment and looked back again to threaten, “Next time, I won’t be yelling only, but come over with my baseball bat!”
You hated the grin he then threw at you. “So you’re into that kind of stuff, huh? Come over and we’ll see about that.”
Luckily, one of the elevators reached your floor at exactly that moment and you were quick enough to get in before Jaehyun’s one night stand could make it to the door at the same time.
The entire commute to the kindergarten, you thought about nothing else than your lack of sleep and how to finally put an end to this entire nonsense. At this point, it was ridiculous. You had been enduring that kind of shenanigans for one month already, and you were slowly getting fed up. No, actually, you had reached your wit’s end already. In the beginning, it had been all good and quiet, and from one day to another, it had suddenly started.
You didn’t know who had hurt him so much that he needed to compensate for his pain in this manner, but you’d rather he wouldn’t drag you into it. It only forced you to interact with him when you wanted to be left alone altogether to focus on your career.
“What is it?” your class’ homeroom teacher asked you as you entered the common room that morning. “You look so tired again.”
“Ah, it’s just that I can’t seem to sleep well lately,” you tried to budge as you placed your bag on the desk. “A weird planet constellation or something.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. What were you supposed to say anyway? That your neighbor smashed different girls so loudly every night, it kept you up for hours? People would only laugh at you.
“Try lavender tea,” she recommended to you. “This always helps me.”
“I will. Thank you.”
On your way to your respectant classroom, you were greeted by the children who had just been dropped off and getting ready to start the day.
Teaching children had always been your dream, and being an assistant teacher at a reputable private kindergarten came with few advantages in comparison to public ones, a higher salary was one of them. The hardest part was not the amount of work or the long working hours, but the strict and high-demanding parents whose individual expectations you always had to meet.
But looking into these brightly smiling faces greeting you each morning, it was all worth it.
“There is something I need to tell you,” the homeroom teacher then announced when you reached the door of your respective classroom.
“Yes? What is it?”
She kneaded her fingers in reluctance, her bag clipped between her upper arm and body. “I’m going to transfer to another school.”
“Where would you go?” you asked, perplexed. “This is Shi-A kindergarten. There are no other more prestigious kindergartens in the entire district or even country if I dare say so. Except… It’s not a kindergarten.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’m going to transfer to Shi-A elementary school. A teacher will quit by the next semester and they offered the position to me.”
You grabbed her hands, excitement written all over your face. “This is such great news! I’m so happy for you!”
“Hold on, the greatest part is yet to come.” She was five years your senior, but you saw her more like a sister than your supervisor. “I recommended you to the school board as the new homeroom teacher. The principal has agreed already, we’re currently preparing your recommendation letters.”
You were too stunned to ask more than, “Me?”
She nodded and squeezed your hands back in encouragement. “There is no one better here for this position other than you. You’re compassionate, you’re helpful and intelligent. The kids love you and rely on you. You’re finished being an assistant only, I can tell. And the principal as well.”
“Me, as a homeroom teacher?” It sounded like a faraway dream.
“Miss!” A girl from your class, Soah, tugged on your coattail. She was holding something out to you. A yellow flower. “This is for you! I just plucked it, it was the prettiest on the playground!”
You took the flower into your hand and thanked her.
“Like I said,” the homeroom teacher commented with a wink as you entered the classroom, “there is no one better for this position other than you.”
____
“Ahhh, yes!! Jaehyun, Jaehyun!”
BAM BAM BAM
“I swear to god, Jeong Jaehyun, it’s 2am now, I will come for you!”
You jumped out of your bed, only dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a simple t-shirt, not bothering about throwing your bathrobe on or slipping into a pair of shoes at this point. You would only go to Jaehyun’s door and ring the bell to interrupt whatever they were doing right now.
“If I’m not getting any sleep, you’re not getting nutted either!”
Tomorrow, you had a very important meeting with the school board members and wanted to be well rested. So at least, for tonight only, you had hoped to get a few more hours of sleep. You had studied possible questions and answers for days by now and were not only tired, but also mentally exhausted.
But, of course, a reckless university student like Jaehyun wouldn’t understand.
When you reached your entrance door, just about to exit your apartment, you halted mid-motion, interrupted by a sound you had never heard before in this apartment building.
The fire alarm.
You were petrified at first, unsure how to react in such a situation as your mind wasn’t able to grasp the entire meaning yet. As it slowly sank down on you that it most likely meant danger as the alarm hadn’t subsided by now, you reacted very fast by finally opening the door and looking to your left and right.
At first, nothing happened, and you questioned whether your neighbors would react according to emergency plans. But then, one door after another opened on your floor and out stormed the tenants, passing by you and running down the stairs like their lives depended on it.
“Damn it!” you cursed and left your apartment the next moment as well, thinking about all your electronics and important papers that were still inside.
But in kindergarten, you also regularly taught the children how to behave during a fire alarm, and the first and most important thing was to drop everything and get the hell out of the building. So when you were about to run down the stairs, you remembered that there was one person who hadn’t come out of their apartment yet.
“Hey!” you hammered against Jaehyun’s door after you had returned. “Hey! It’s a fire alarm! Can’t you hear?!”
Your own voice didn’t drown out the signal tone, but you tried nonetheless - to no avail. Jaehyun and whoever was with him wouldn’t come out.
“Miss, what are you still doing here?” The middle-aged man whose dog was always barking on your floor approached you with his pet. “We need to leave! Who knows where the fire has spread already!”
“But Jae-”
But the man just grabbed you by your hand and dragged you along the corridor, his strength too overpowering for you to resist. Even with your head turned and your eyes fixated on Jaehyun’s door, you couldn’t spot him coming out.
Inwardly, you just prayed that he perhaps had reacted fast and left already, but as all the residents slowly gathered in the front yard one by one, you couldn’t recognize Jaehyun among the people storming out of the lobby.
You didn’t know why you cared about that brute, just enough to look out for him.
Perhaps, your job as a teacher had made you sensitive to your surroundings and responsible for the people around you regardless of age and behaviour. You wanted everyone around you to be safe and sound, and that didn’t apply to children only.
“Where are you?” you muttered more to yourself as you got on your bare tiptoes and looked over the crowd as the last people were leaving the building, still no sign of Jaehyun.
“Looking for someone?”
“Oh my-!” you called out and stumbled backwards against the person that had just addressed you.
When you turned around, Jaehyun was standing in front of you, fully dressed in checkered pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt, his blond hair reflecting the light from the street lamp. So he had really made it out without you noticing, even after getting dressed. God knew how this had been even possible.
“Mrs. Choi,” you dodged the topic quickly. “I haven’t seen her yet.”
Jaehyun pointed at someone only two meters away from you, an elderly lady from the same floor. “There she is.”
“Ah, I see. Thank god.”
You buried your hands deep into the pockets of your pajama pants and stepped from one foot on another to warm them up a bit. You indeed had left your slippers behind in a hurry and had only noticed when it was already too late, so your toes were now cold and your soles dirty.
“Here.” Jaehyun slid out of his slippers and then stood next to you with naked feet. “Take them.”
“I don’t need them.”
“Look, your toes are slowly turning blue, and even if it’s still warm during the day, at night it’s already chilly since we almost have October already. So take them.”
You crossed your arms to warm yourself up a little more and, with much hesitation though, slid your feet into Jaehyun’s slippers. They were way too big and didn’t protect your feet from the cool breeze, but at least you didn’t need to stand on the cold and dirty asphalt anymore.
“Thank you,” you said.
Jaehyun raised his head up to the building complex. “It doesn’t seem like there is a huge fire anywhere, otherwise there would be fumes coming out of an apartment already.”
Red and blue light caught your both’s attention that was coming from the firetruck currently pulling up into the lane. Different firefighters got ready and stormed into the building in full attire, but Jaehyun was right. You couldn’t detect a fire either.
“Maybe it was only a small one and they managed to put it out already. Or someone was illegally smoking inside the apartment and the detector still picked up the fumes.”
“Whoever that was, they robbed me of a night’s fun.”
You rolled your eyes. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate? If they hadn’t done that, then I would have come for you myself, because I have an important interview tomorrow. But unfortunately, this situation is worse. God knows when we can return to our homes.”
“What interview? Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“For my promotion, it’s in the headquarters. I want to be a homeroom teacher, and in my kindergarten, there is no such thing as weekends.”
“Sounds annoying,” Jaehyun commented.
You flashed your eyes at him. “Of course, for someone who sleeps until midday and whose only aim it is to smash different women every night, this sounds annoying. But I’m a full grown adult with a real job, and if only you knew about how hard it is, you wouldn’t be so reckless with your noises at two in the morning!”
For the break of a second, you had hoped that you could possibly hold a normal conversation with Jaehyun. That he wasn’t that much of a prick, that you could explain yourself and he would understand your standpoint. But he was nothing other than your expected player, and you had had enough of them during your own time in university.
You then fled to the very front of the crowd right by the lobby without Jaehyun following you, and luckily, not much later, the firefighters declared the building safe. The alarm had been set off on the fourth floor by the partying tenant and his guests who had indeed ignored the rules and smoked inside.
You hurried inside along with the other residents, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to linger around long enough until you weighed yourself in safety from Jaehyun’s presence.
You only returned much later to your apartment than all the others and were back in bed by 4am without having to face your next-door-neighbor again. Too late to get enough sleep still after all.
_____
“We are very pleased with your answers so far, miss.”
“Thank you so much, sir.”
You bowed in your seat, all the weight from the past days getting lifted off your shoulders. Despite the night before being a total chaos and you running on three hours of sleep only, you had made it on time to the interview and had even been able to revise everything during your commute.
Screw Jaehyun, you were great on your own.
“But there is one thing we’re concerned about,” the director said.
As you looked up, you perceived how nervously he was fidgeting in his seat as were the other board members, throwing some meaningful glances at each other. You knew it had been too easy until now. A woman in her late twenties who had only been teaching for three years overall, becoming a homeroom teacher at this prestigious kindergarten that quickly? There was always a catch.
“We’re concerned the students’ parents might not be content with our choice if we decide to put you in that position.”
“What could they be discontent about?” you asked as the director showed reluctance to continue. “I have my degrees, the experience, as well as the homeroom teacher’s and the kindergarten principal’s recommendation letters. With all respect, I am very qualified for this position, sir.”
“We are not concerned about your qualifications, miss.” He paused. “But about your living circumstances.”
You raised a brow. “My… living circumstances?”
“You’re a young woman living alone, who’s also unmarried,” a board member then raised his voice to take the pressure off the director. For sure, they had talked about this in private before. This felt like an ambush. “This is not something that is likely to be accepted among the childrens’ parents as they put great value in traditional family arrangements. As you know, it’s one of the pillars our schools are based on: tradition.”
You scoffed inwardly, but remained expressionless on the outside. Luckily, you knew how to deal with ambushes. You had so much to say about what they viewed as traditional family arrangements, but you loved it here and didn’t want to lose the job on the spot, so you kept your lips sealed and responded as politely as possible,
“I don’t know why my living arrangements would be any parents’ concern. If I can afford a nice apartment close to the kindergarten where I spend many hours preparing everything for their children to receive the absolute best education, shouldn’t that speak for my living arrangement? I also put great value on tradition. Just because I’m not married yet, doesn’t mean I never want to or won’t get married one day. Everyone has their own timeline and this should not block my career.”
“We’re aware about that, miss. But as you might also know, the parents have a fundamental right of co-determination in our schools.”
“Because since it’s a private institution, they finance everything,” you wanted to interrupt, but kept that sentence to yourself only. Instead, you said, “I dedicate all my time and passion to cater to their children. I am one of the firsts to enter and leave the kindergarten, even working more from home. I volunteer to teach on the weekends and during semester breaks. Does this not count more than the fact that I’m an unmarried woman who’s living alone?”
You were pushing boundaries by demanding an answer, you knew that, but it was nothing very reputable board members couldn’t rationally reply to. The fact that they didn’t, only proved that you were right and they were mere cowards under the invisible whiplash of wealthy parents. Without them and their money, their schools’ reputation wouldn’t be where it was now.
“We can’t change the parents’ opinions, miss,” the director eventually spoke up, retreating into a defending mode and putting the blame entirely on the parents instead of standing up for you, an assistant he had approved of hiring two years ago. Again, such cowards. “We will forward your documents and records to them, but that means a background check as well. And, if I may be frank, I can tell that you’re going to get ruled out solely for that reason.”
“Then change it,” you interrupted him. “Change my status to engaged. This is what they want, right?”
“Miss… we cannot counterfeit your documents.”
“They won’t be counterfeited, because it’s true,” you said with a confident voice. “I wanted to keep my private life private, at least until I get officially married. But I have no choice now to announce it before I actually wanted to. Yes, I am engaged and we’re going to get married soon.”
All the board members seemed to be taken aback by your sudden confessions. Perhaps, their reaction was genuine. Perhaps, they also knew you were lying. But what proof would they have to actually ascribe this lie to you? They threw meaningful gazes at each other again, unsure of what to make of this change in the situation.
“Very well, miss.” The director eventually spoke up and nodded. “I will mention this in your documents and you can hand in a copy of your marriage certificate later when the papers are through.”
“But is this enough time, sir? It has to be decided within two months, the principal told me. I don’t know whether it will be enough time since the engagement is still new and we haven’t set a fixed date yet.”
“That’s true. If you want to convince the parents of your skills and background, I would recommend you to organize the school festival together with them. Volunteer for an activity in which your fiancé can participate as well and show them what a great couple you are. When they’re convinced, the paperwork will only be formalities.”
You swore you saw one corner of his lip tug up, either in malicious glee or in pure relief. Did he know?
“I understand, sir.” You bowed deeply. “Thank you very much.”
“And one last thing… You can start wearing your engagement ring from now if you don’t want to make a huge announcement. It’s more convincing.”
Oh, he knew. But he couldn’t care less as long as you didn’t get him in hot waters.
You nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.”
On your way home, you stopped by a jeweler and picked out a nice, but cheap ring, a replica of your own dream ring, just beautiful and sparkly enough to get this lie through.
____
You had dedicated your entire life to this kindergarten, not only neglecting your family along the way, but also your friends.
In fact you hadn’t talked or even answered your friends in months. You didn’t know what they were up to nowadays except for what they were giving away through status updates in your texting app. You scrolled through your contacts in the messenger, but sighed whenever one of the rare male names popped up. Some of them were married already, two had children.
They had all been your friends in university, but you hadn’t talked to any of them in an embarrassingly long time, so there was no one you could ask. How awkward must that be for someone to suddenly get a message about going along with a fake engagement from an old classmate they hadn’t seen in years?
“I’m so screwed!” you groaned and stretched out in your bed, throwing your phone aside. “Oh god, why!”
Perhaps, it was time to look for a new job, even though you loved the children and Shi-A kindergarten was the best reference for your CV. There was no coming back from all your lies anyway. Until now, you couldn’t quite grasp what had brought you to tell them what they wanted to hear. You should have just accepted their answer and moved on. Why did you have to be so impulsive at times, needing to get what you wanted right away?
People did separate before their wedding, that was possible, so there was a way out after all. You could stay an assistant teacher for several more years, there was nothing wrong with it. But the shame and pity you would need to deal with afterwards…
The next moment, you sat up, your train of thoughts getting interrupted by the door bell, and the person behind the entrance was someone you hadn’t expected that day as he had never come over before.
“My shoes.”
“Huh?”
“My shoes.” A barefooted, messy blond-haired Jaehyun pointed at the shoe rack behind you. “You still have them.”
“Ah, right.” You quickly grabbed them and dropped the pair in front of his naked feet. “Here.”
But Jaehyun didn’t slip in right away. Instead, he questioned, “How did it go?”
You tilted your head in confusion. “Did what go?”
“The interview.”
You growled and your tongue loosened over the newly awakened stress, “Apparently, they don’t want a young, unmarried woman, who’s also living alone, teaching their children, so it did not go very well. It went all downhill when I said that I was going to get married soon to save my promotion. They invited my fake fiancé to the kindergarten to help out at the festival so that the parents get a chance to bond with him.”
“So you’re getting married?” He sounded as perplexed as the board members. Why was it such a big deal to imagine you getting married anyway?
“No! I’m not! That’s the catch. Now I have to get a fake fiancé from somewhere.”
“Hm. So you lied.”
“A bit.”
“Hm. Doesn’t sound like a bit of lying in my book.”
“I know, okay? Thanks for pointing it out.”
You didn’t know why you had told him all that. Perhaps, among the path you had chosen for yourself, you had lost all your friends and now had no one you could talk to whenever you faced a problem. He was just there, at the right moment.
“Really sucks for you.” Jaehyun shrugged and slipped into his shoes. He then turned around and disappeared back into his apartment.
You could have also talked to a wall.
____
“You never told me that you were engaged! And what an amazing ring with such a big diamond!” Your homeroom teacher jumped up and down in excitement as you two made your way to the entrance gate in the late evening at the same time as club activities ended. “I didn't even know you had a boyfriend! All this time you were keeping it a secret!”
“It has spread quite fast, hasn’t it?” you laughed out shyly.
“Totally! Is he going to help out during the school festival? My theater class still needs volunteers and your fiancé can join as well.”
“Sure,” you lied. “I can’t promise anything for him though, because he’s so busy, but he’ll try.”
“Has he ever been here though?” she asked. “Have we ever seen him?”
“No, he hasn’t.”
She pursed her lips. “Then who’s that?”
“Who’s what?”
She stopped in her tracks and pointed at the entrance gate. “The dark haired man standing there who clearly doesn’t look like he’s here to pick up a child since he’s only staring at you.”
Shifting your head, you spotted your neighbor standing right by the gate. You had barely recognized him, because the light blond hair was gone and now dyed dark. No way! What was he doing here? And how was he looking?
“It’s him, isn’t it? Hello!”
“Hey!” You grabbed her arm and pulled it down. “It’s just… he’s an introvert. Wait here, please.”
With hurried steps, you approached Jaehyun who didn’t break eye contact along the way. Surprisingly, he was dressed business casual today, in a pair of slacks and a button up. In combination with his new hair color and the strands neatly combed aside, he looked… decently handsome. It was not like he hadn’t been attractive before, that was a thought you had always tried to push away. But now it was like a fact you couldn’t run away from any longer.
You wondered whether there was a reason. Maybe, he had a date set for later. Good for him to take the women finally out and not always straight to home. Good for him to have finally found a woman who didn’t put up with his former appearance.
“What are you doing here?” you asked him without a greeting. “This is my workplace, you can’t just appear out of nowhere!” Your gaze scanned the environment and you could tell that you two had already caught a few parents’ attention, so your expression softened. “What is it?”
“I locked myself out of my apartment,” he explained. “I kind of typed the code wrong into the system and cannot get inside anymore. So I need to open the door from the inside.”
“And how is that exactly my problem?”
“I need to crawl out of your window to get into my apartment since I’ve left it open anyway.”
You frowned. “Are you nuts? Just go to the lobby and let them call the landlord!”
“There was no one there.”
“There is always someone there!”
He heaved up his shoulders. “Maybe an emergency.”
“Then use your phone!”
“I left it in my room.”
“And that’s why you came all the way here instead of asking another neighbor?”
“I thought since I’m locked out anyway, I can just come here instead of waiting. I knew where the kindergarten was located because of an envelope that had once found its way into my mailbox by accident. And I didn’t know whether you’d return directly after finishing classes or whether you’d have a date with your imaginary fiancé.” He suppressed a chuckle. “Or other imaginary friends.”
“You find that funny, right?” you chided. “But this is the job of my life. This is my life.”
“Alright.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “Can we just go home then?”
“Yeah, let me just…”
“Excuse me, you’re her fiancé, right?” Your homeroom teacher had suddenly popped up next to you, apparently too excited to be kept waiting around. “I’m sorry to butt in, but I’m so happy to finally meet you, because none of us have known about you until today! She’s so secretive!”
Perhaps, because there was absolutely nothing you could tell about your boring life. And even if, Jaehyun surely was not included! You wanted to clear up this misunderstanding when suddenly, you realized that this was your only chance to go with your lie.
He was a man.
And he was here.
You had no other option.
There would not be another chance this easy.
You should thank the heavens that today was the day he had decided to leave his bleached hair and joggers at home.
“That’s true!” you then declared and linked arms with Jaehyun. “He came here today to pick me up since I’ve already come forward with the truth. I’m sorry that I haven’t introduced you sooner. This is Jeong Jaehyun.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jeong!”
You pinched his arm and felt how he sucked in a rush of air. Given he knew the context, he understood. You only prayed to the heavens again that he would just go with it. The logistics of this all, you would figure out only later.
“Nice to meet you too! I’ve already heard so much about you,” Jaehyun greeted back politely.
You didn’t believe your ears. Even if you had hoped so, you hadn’t actually thought that he would play your imaginary fiancé so well from the spot.
“I already suggested that you volunteer in my theater group for the school festival, but she said you’re always so busy. Nonetheless, I still hope for you to step by every now and then, or at least come by on the day of the festival itself. That would be awesome as many of the teachers’ families and the childrens’ families are also visiting. It’s a chance to get to know each other.”
Jaehyun smiled broadly. “Of course I will help out as well, that’s a given. I’ll make time, no worries.”
“Such a polite and kind man!” Your homeroom teacher beamed at you. “Where have you been hiding him all this time?”
That was a question you were asking yourself now as well.
____
“Nice furniture,” Jaehyun commented when you walked into your apartment. “But a bit too tacky for my taste.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my interior. I still don’t know why you just didn’t refer to the lobbyist who’s already back by now.”
“Calling the landlord and setting a new code is just too much hassle and takes up too much time. This way, it’s quicker.”
You opened the window in your bedroom and dragged Jaehyun across the carpet by his arm. “Then, get out.”
“When should I be ready?” he asked instead and turned to you.
“Be ready for what?” You blinked in puzzlement.
“The theater activity.”
“There is no way I’m going to let you join me in school!” you quickly defied him. “You’re… loud, rude and reckless! Only this one time was enough, there were enough witnesses to prove your existence.”
Jaehyun cleared his throat. “In your teacher’s words, I’m a very polite and kind man.”
“Only to authorities, apparently.”
“I can be very nice!”
“But not to me.”
“You’ve never given me a reason to be nice to you.”
You halted. “And the women you throw out every morning? You’re not nice to them either.”
“That’s a whole other story. I only throw out the rude ones, sometimes they get breakfast.”
You snorted when he grinned. “What’s differentiating me from them?”
“They’re an obligation. You’re a choice.”
“So you’ve chosen to be mean to me?”
“No.” Jaehyun climbed on the window sill. “I’ve chosen to act according to what you’re giving me. Have you ever been nice to me at all? All you’ve ever done was hammering against my wall and ignoring me whenever our paths cross. That’s not very nice. Today, I’ve chosen to do something nice for you. Can I expect the same from you? I’m not quite sure.”
And off he went, out of the window, leaving you behind with much food for thought over what had happened since you had moved in. With slow steps, you returned to your living room, taking a seat on the couch. You stared into nothingness, pondering over Jaehyun’s words thoroughly.
What did you know about him, actually? Not very much, if anything at all. Where you had spoken to your other neighbors almost in an instant upon moving in, you had never given Jaehyun a chance to properly introduce himself. You had quickly written him off as a player who you didn’t want to get involved with. What could you have in common anyway since he was so much younger?
But as a preschool teacher, you knew how dangerous it was to hold such prejudices towards people you didn’t know. This wasn’t your philosophy.
So two hours later, you stood in front of Jaehyun’s door. It was past 9pm already, but you had to do the deeds today, otherwise you were afraid that all courage would leave your body by the end of the day.
“What is it?!” Jaehyun barked, then stopped. “Oh, it’s you.”
You held out the plate in front of him, still not having gotten used to the dark hair. “Here.”
He raised his brows, looking at a simple chocolate cake. “What’s this?”
“A peace offer.”
You didn’t dare to look him in the face, but his hand finally moved and clasped around the plate, touching yours in the process. With a slight smile on his face that you encountered when you lifted your head, Jaehyun took the cake.
“Peace offer accepted. So, when’s the start?”
You inhaled deeply. “Wednesday.”
“I’ll be there.”
“But why?” you still wanted to know. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I think there might be something you can give me in return.”
Of course, there was always a catch. “And what would that be?”
Jaehyun made a meaningful pause. “Tutoring lessons.”
You nearly laughed out loud. “I teach kindergarteners, not university students. I mean, yes I studied with the focus on elementary school, but higher education is not my forte.”
“Isn’t it the same? Teaching people, who don’t know stuff, stuff they must know?”
“I don’t even know your major, your courses! How am I supposed to help you?”
“I’ll send you my sheets beforehand and you can teach me to understand the essence of them.”
You stood there, totally flabbergasted as you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the situation yet. “And that’s all that you want?”
He nodded. “That’s all.”
“It’s not on par with what you offer to me.”
He shrugged. “For me, it is.”
You didn’t know why, but you quite didn’t believe him fully. Either he bore some ulterior motives or he was so bad in university that he was on the brink of failing his classes anyway. In regard to his lifestyle, you could very well imagine the latter. Why not hire a professional tutor then? What was the point of all this?
“Fine,” you then gave in. “When do we start?”
“Tomorrow right away. I’ll send you the stuff.”
You walked out of the door, but not before shifting around to him one last time. “Your new hair color… I like it. It suits you. Though I was used to always seeing your hair first before your face.”
“I still have to get used to it as well.”
“Why did you dye it?”
“I thought it was time for a change.” Suddenly, his gaze fell on your finger. “That’s the ring I have supposedly given you? I should know about it.”
“Princess cut, two carats. Or so it seems.” You held out your hand and looked at the piece of jewelry. “Actually, it’s my dream ring, but it’s not real, just a cheap replica. I hope nobody will notice though as they surely wear diamonds much bigger than that.”
“Women… such an enigma. I never understood why they pay so much attention to an expensive engagement ring anyway. Triple the amount of the man’s salary it should be, no?”
“First, that kind of scale is already dated. Second, I share your opinion. But…” You were about to say something very private, but you felt safe enough to do it at that moment, “I haven't grown up being able to afford nice things myself let alone getting these kinds of things gifted. So the thought of me being so important to someone to invest in valuable jewelry for me means very much.”
“I see.”
He nodded acknowledgement and let you leave.
____
According to his papers, Jaehyun was studying business management.
You didn’t know much about the subject, but the papers were quite clear with what they wanted their students to grasp, and as it was indeed your job to teach even preschoolers exactly how to study the material, you didn’t see a reason as to why it would be different with your grown up neighbor.
Of course, upon entering his apartment for the first time, you had also scanned the entire space that was exactly like yours in the layout, only mirrored. Against your expectations, he was furnished and equipped quite comfortably and modernly, not too spartanic as you had expected from a young man his age. The door to his bedroom was closed though. Too bad, you were curious about that one the most.
“That’s quite a delicious cake!” Jaehyun praised as he sat down next to you at the table, the plate with the slice in front of him. “You’re a good baker, I have to admit.”
“Having to participate in many kindergarten events, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.”
“Say.” Jaehyun put his fork back on the plate and leaned in to you. “Why do you love this job so much? Aren’t you annoyed by the children? The parents? The other teachers? Having people around you all day long?”
You flipped through his papers, marking the passages you deemed worth memorizing. “Of course it gets stressful and annoying when, for example, children won’t listen, when you can’t meet the parents expectations or when the teachers put so much pressure on you. But…” A smile spread across your face that Jaehyun still encountered even though you had kept your head low. “... the reward, when they all succeed in the end, is all worth it.”
“Hm.” He kept staring at you, and his unwavering gaze made you flush a little. “Sounds legit for someone like you who loves her job so much, she’s willing to put up with a fake engagement.”
“I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am now,” you explained to him with a calm voice. “I don’t want to throw everything away because I’m an unmarried woman.”
“What’s so bad about being an unmarried woman?”
You hadn’t expected such a question. “Nothing, honestly. It just doesn’t meet their norm.”
“And when it’s all done… What will you tell them? That your fiancé left you at the altar? That you broke off your engagement?”
“By then, if you play along, I will have the job already. And yes, then I will then tell them exactly that. That we’ve broken up.”
“I see.” Jaehyun leaned back, giving you room to breathe again. “Well, if you think so.”
“Can we start with your studies now?” you asked. “We’re not only here for you to question me.”
“Of course.” Jaehyun took the fork in his hand again and broke a piece off the cake that he then led to his mouth. “Go on, what should I know?”
In the two hours you were teaching your neighbor, you came to the conclusion that there was no difference between being his teacher or one to your kindergarteners. Even though Jaehyun was a university student, you could maintain your teaching methods despite having a different subject at the base.
“I’m done!” Jaehyun raised his arms and stretched himself. “Finally!”
You closed the books and jumped out of your seat. “It’s almost 11pm already! I need to go, catching up on some sleep.”
“Ah yeah, my visitor will also be here soon, so you better hurry.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you please stay a bit calmer tonight for me to sleep in peace?”
He winked jokingly. “As I said, you can always join. But today, I will, as a thank you for your tutoring lesson.”
He didn’t keep his promise.
____
“Miss, how do I look?” A little boy from the parallel group appeared next to you, dressed as an apple tree. His expression radiated insecurity, but you remembered very well how pumped he had been about finally landing a role in the play. “The others are all laughing at me.”
You crouched down and took the boy’s tiny hands into yours. It was Wednesday, so this was another evening dedicated to the preparations for the festival. His costume consisted of brown pants and a green shirt. He also wore a headgear that framed his face from which apples made of polystyrene were hanging.
“You look amazing! Don’t listen to others. Your role is very much important. And you know why the apple tree is so important in the play?” He shook his head and you squeezed his tiny fingers in encouragement. “Because you’re the only apple tree. Without you, we wouldn’t even be able to perform. So regardless of what the others say, remember that you’re one of a kind, that you’re unique and very important. Okay?”
Now, a bright smile spread across his face. “Okay!”
You arose from your crouching position and turned around to let your eyes scan the hall. Then, you spotted your neighbor for whom you had waited already. And he was not alone.
With fast steps, you descended from the stage and nervously approached Jaehyun who was currently having a seemingly nice chat with a parent. And not any parent as a matter of fact. In front of him stood Shi-A schools’ main investor, and you hadn’t prepared him for that kind of situation!
You had aged Jaehyun up to one year your senior and had also come up with a background story both of you agreed on was believable enough. Of course Jaehyun couldn’t be a student in front of these successful parents who were all directors, doctors and builders. You had first suggested for him to be a lawyer, but, in his words, Jaehyun didn’t want to be “such a stuck up suit-wearer”.
“Ah, miss, there you are!” Mr. Nam, Soah’s father and the owner of several bank branches across the country, welcomed you as you joined their chat and came to a halt next to Jaehyun. “I’m so disappointed that I haven’t gotten to meet your fiancé much sooner! Such a charming and smart man!”
You looked at Jaehyun who had dressed up in suit trousers and a white button up again, his hair neatly slicked back with only one strand falling into his face. His entire presence radiated a successful businessman, inferior to no one. You were quite impressed, he looked very much believable. And insanely handsome.
“Mr. Nam, it’s so good to see you! Yes, my fiancé is usually really busy, so I’m glad he was able to make time today to help out with the preparations for the festival,” you explained.
“Of course.” Mr. Nam nodded. “I was only able to come today, because I canceled a meeting to see my precious Soah. I know what it’s like to run a business and having to miss important school events, so I talked about that with your fiancé. I didn’t know he was a COO!”
You tried to hide your surprise and forced a smile. Jaehyun had chosen to be involved in running a business according to his major, the age old enough to be COO, but not CEO yet. You just hoped he knew what he was talking about with the professionals, being so close to graduation.
“You know, honey,” Jaehyun addressed you, and it made your skin crawl how he used this pet name for lovers, “Mr. Nam invited us to his getaway in the countryside in two weeks.”
The middle-aged man nodded. “Mr. Jeong and I have instantly bonded over our occupations and our weekend getaway will help him form connections. Several friends of mine as well as parents of this school and other business partners will be present too. Your fiancé is still fairly young and new to the business as a COO, but I’m always pleased to show the next generation their way. It will be a great chance for you both.”
You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Two years of working at this school and no parent had ever invited you anywhere. But it had taken Jaehyun literally five minutes only to get invited on a weekend getaway with the main investor!
This was such a big chance for you to strengthen the bond with the most influential parents and investors, and show them that you were indeed capable of doing this job right - with and certainly without a man.
“Of course we will join, Mr. Nam!” You bowed to him. “We’re very grateful to have received this invitation.”
Mr. Nam went on with his duty of helping his daughter and Jaehyun followed you to the stage.
“You know that it’s not going to be easy during that weekend, right?”
“Yes, but I need this weekend. If they see that I fit in, they will acknowledge me as a capable teacher, even without a marriage certificate. This will be the best opportunity to win their favor and then play the broken hearted teacher who they will all sympathize with after my breakup. Only Mr. and Mrs. Nam’s approval is enough, and every other parent will do as they say, that’s how powerful they are.”
“And what does being a capable teacher have anything to do with you being married or not?” he genuinely wanted to know. “You said there was nothing wrong with you being an unmarried woman living alone.”
You stopped in your tracks and smiled crookedly. “Apparently, they pay much attention to tradition, I told you already. And an unmarried woman living alone does not live up to their expectations since they’re very conservative. But I’m sure I can prove to them-”
“This is bullshit and you know it,” Jaehyun interrupted you dryly. “If I were a parent, I would favor an unmarried woman, who is a great person herself, to teach my children rather than someone trapped in a loveless marriage, who passes on her misery to her students.”
“You’re not wrong, but what can I do? It is how it is.” You shrugged. “Are you saying you’re not with me in this now?”
“Of course I still am if you also still want it. But as I said, it’s not going to be easy.”
“Why? It’s going smooth now as well.”
Jaehyun cleared his throat. “Well… we truly have to act like a couple, you know, since it’s a private setting. With all the pet names, skinship and stuff, honey.”
Again, you cringed. “Shut up, Jaehyun, it’s not that deep.”
He laughed. “If you say so…”
You two approached the stage, stepped on the platform and immediately had a group of boys run towards you.
“Mister, you’re so tall,” one of them said to Jaehyun. “Can you help us hang these lights up please?”
“Of course!” Jaehyun agreed with genuine joy. “Where do you need them?”
“Over there, please!”
He rolled his white sleeves up his elbows in preparation. With much caution, Jaehyun took the string of lights they had been holding out to him into his own hands and attached them shortly over his head to the background of the stage.
“You wanna do this yourselves?” he then asked the boys as they came over to him with another chain of colorful lights.
“But we’re too short!”
“Not anymore now!” Jaehyun got on his knees and lifted one of the boys up in the air. “You’re tall enough now?”
The boy giggled and pumped his fist. “A bit higher, mister, please!”
“Alright!”
Jaehyun laughed along with them and stretched out his arms until the boy could reach the marked spots in the background. The child was effortlessly able to attach the lights onto where they belonged before Jaehyun set him back on the floor.
“Thank you, mister!”
You watched the scene with a smile, unknowingly. The fact that Jaehyun was this good with children had been a secret to you too, until now.
Perhaps, he wasn’t always your prick of a neighbor and there was much more to him than his nocturnal activities. Somehow, this piqued your interest and you wanted to get to know more about him in all sincerity.
____
“So, you got the gist of it, right?”
Jaehyun nodded. “Enough for me to not flunk the exam this time again.”
“Alright.” You snapped the book shut and stretched yourself. “I’ll get going now then.”
“Are you hungry?” Jaehyun asked instead when you made a move to raise from the chair. “It’s past 9 already and I’m hella hungry.”
“Well… I haven’t eaten anything since lunch and just wanted to go to the convenience store to grab a quick bite.”
“I’ll prepare dinner.”
It was a subtle invitation, and although he didn’t speak it out, he wanted you to stay for a reason you didn’t quite understand yet. Reluctant at first, you wiggled in your seat, unsure of what to do. But Jaehyun didn’t leave you much room for decision as he already opened the refrigerator and took out a sealed pack of chicken.
“Should I help you?” you asked and jumped up, eager to put this awkwardness behind you.
“Yeah, you can cut the vegetables. They’re in the fridge, I just put them in there just in case, so they’re not frozen yet.”
“Okay.”
When you opened the fridge, you spotted the cake you had given to him, only halfway eaten and frozen. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, and surely not openly, but it kind of hurt you. Yet, you couldn’t bite down a snarky remark.
“You could have just told me the truth instead of lying… that it doesn’t taste good.”
Jaehyun looked up from the chicken he was currently washing, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Your disappointment broke through your facade eventually. “The cake. It’s still there.”
With careful deliberation, Jaehyun put the meat on a cutting board and took out a knife. “Because I don’t want to share it.”
“What?”
“I can’t eat too much sugar at once. So one, at the most two, slices of cake a day does suffice. I used to grind my teeth in my sleep, so they’re very sensitive now and hurt when I eat too many sweets at once.”
“Oh, it’s like that.” You paused. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of this problem…” Again, it dawned on you that you knew absolutely nothing about Jaehyun. If you had known he wasn’t able to eat an entire cake within a few days, then you would have brought something else. “But you’ve had enough visitors over the past couple of days to share it with them, you don’t have to trudge through eating it to the last bites, you know.”
“But I want to!” he then defended himself and turned around to you. “I want to eat it all by myself, I don’t want to share it with anyone else what you’ve made only for me.”
This was not a joke, nor a mocking comment. He meant it in all honesty. You just had no idea why.
“Okay.” You closed the door to the fridge with the vegetables in your hand now. “I’ll help you cut the ingredients. But we should probably hurry before your visitor comes, right?”
You didn’t want to sound mean by mentioning this topic, but the syllables fell from your lips much sharper than you had intended. It was none of your business anyway, but as you took the leek into your hands, you realized that you couldn’t help but to be curious about his lifestyle.
He shrugged. “It’s still a few hours, we’ll be fine.”
“But every night a different woman? Why don’t you get a girlfriend? Don’t misunderstand me, I just genuinely want to know.”
Jaehyun didn’t even bother thinking about coming up with a morally right answer. “I did have a girlfriend.”
“And?”
“It sucked.”
“Then you just didn’t have the right girlfriend for you.”
“We were together for three years,” he clarified and proceeded to cut the chicken while you did the same with the leek.
“Did she cheat on you?”
“No. She stole all my money, lied about it and disappeared from my life from one day to another.”
“Holy-” You swallowed the rest of the sentence, your cutting hand now pausing too.
“My parents weren’t very fond of her from the beginning and told me to cut ties with her as she wasn’t the ideal daughter-in-law for them anyway. But I was a rebel and wanted to date whoever I wanted just because I could. She only used me as a money machine, and everyone knew - except for me as I was in denial. The me back then was so blind and so in love. I did everything for her, and in the end, I was left alone, robbed of my money and unfavored by my parents.”
You didn’t know what to say as you hadn’t expected such an honest conversation with him. The tough and cool Jaehyun had been through some miserable phases indeed, and you somehow regretted not having asked about it much earlier.
“Jaehy-”
“It’s okay.” He brushed it off and put the sliced chicken in the pan. “Not all women are bad, I just need to pick better. Next time, I need to be a hundred percent sure she’ll be my future wife.”
“It’s odd hearing these words from a university student.”
“Why?”
“Nowadays, from my own dating experience, I can say that marriage or children are not one of the top priorities for many people wanting to enter a relationship anymore. They struggle a lot with these nowadays for so many reasons, most of which are valid, like money and economics. So I’m positively surprised to hear you’re not one of them and actually want to marry out of love.”
“Do you want to marry one day?”
This question took you aback. “Yes, for the same reason as you, actually.”
“Mhhmm. And do you believe there is someone out there for you?”
“Yes, I honestly believe it. When there is you and me already, here in this very room, then there are also more people with the same mindset out there in the world. I’m sure, there are many women who have so much genuine love to give to a man like you, even when you’re still so young.”
“A man like me?” You now made eye contact. “What do you mean a man like me?”
You averted your eyes again as you started to list while finishing cutting the leek, “You’re caring, because when we were standing outside on the night of the fire alarm, you noticed that my feet were freezing. You gave me your shoes to wear even when that meant you needed to freeze yourself. And I was so mean to you that night. You’re helpful, because you come to every single festival preparation date and support everyone wherever they need a helping hand, kids and adults equally. And not a single complaint comes out of your mouth. You’re intelligent, because even if you need my help to understand a subject, you’re quick to solve every answer in your very own way. On top of that, you volunteered to play the part of my fake financé. And to this day, I still don’t know why.”
Jaehyun was about to turn on the stove, but then stalled, looking at you partially confused, partially what you somewhat interpreted as… touched? His features then softened and he was moved by your words, you clearly saw it in his eyes.
“Look at you, Miss Neighbor. Not knowing what you’re blabbering again.”
You cracked a smile and put the leek in the pan with the chicken. “It’s just the truth.”
“I help you out, because you’re a good person who is being treated unfairly. Is that so hard to believe?”
After how you had acted in his presence before all this? It was very hard to believe.
“So you think it’s better if I stay in my old position and choose the conventional, non-scheming way?”
“I’ve seen you around the children. I think you’re too good of a teacher to waste your potential on insufferable parents who are too stuck up to question their own values.”
After this short time only, he had seen through this all, and was holding such a high opinion of you?
As you continued preparing dinner right here in room 803, of which you had never imagined setting a foot in, you came to the truthful realization that your neighbor was not resentful towards your behavior from the beginning anymore.
Then, you started to forgive yourself as well.
This dinner had been an invitation to do exactly that, and you were grateful for it.
____
“My, my… hello, miss!”
You turned around and encountered Mrs. Nam, Soah’s mother, approaching in your direction. Another Wednesday meant another preparation and practice evening for the kindergarten festival that was set to take place this weekend.
“Hello, Mrs. Nam.” You bowed deeply. “What brings you here?”
“I heard my husband talk about your fiancé so fondly last time, I wanted to meet him personally since you’re going to accompany us to the getaway next weekend, right?”
“Yes, we feel so honored. What a pleasure!”
A lie. You hated this woman to the core. She didn’t care much about Soah, but more about her reputation and appearance. Yet, she was the main investor’s wife and thus one of the people you had to convince of your capability to be her daughter’s homeroom teacher.
“I'm going to introduce myself,” she declared and strutted away.
Jaehyun was currently sitting in a circle with several kids, helping them prepare their costumes with a glue gun. The kids were talking excitedly to him, interacting with him and laughing along with him. The scene warmed your heart and you smiled the longer you observed them. Jaehyun was so popular and got along so well with them.
“Miss!” Little Soah stood in front of you. “Look what Mr. Jeong made for me!” She raised her arms and presented a golden crown to you, adorned with pink plastic jewels. “He helped me glue the jewels on. Now I’m a true princess, right?”
You smiled and patted her back. “Yes, you truly are! Here, let me help you put it on.” You got on your knees and settled the crown on her head. “All good now.”
“Miss, when you’ve married Mr. Jeong, are you Mrs. Jeong then? Should we then address you as such?”
“I guess so,” you laughed.
You weren’t worried about the rest, because you were going to break this fake engagement off anyway. But somehow, her question had caused a lump to build in your throat that you weren’t able to swallow down.
“Then I’m happy,” Soah beamed through her missing front teeth, “because I like him very much!”
With jumpy steps, she hopped away in her crown as your own expression fell. That was something you hadn’t thought about before. The fact that the kids could get attached to Jaehyun. Or the other way around. Eventually, you would need to break their world apart and rob them of a person they had gotten emotionally attached to. But that was life, wasn’t it?
“Everything alright?” You got stunned as Jaehyun suddenly appeared next to you. “You’ve been standing like this, totally motionless, for a solid minute.”
You nodded. “Have you talked to Soah’s mother?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “A very annoying woman.”
“Right?!” you whispered to him with a giggle, relieved he shared your opinion.
“And she totally has the hots for me,” Jaehyun mentioned almost nonchalantly as he made his way to the stage.
“Wha-” You quickly fell into his step. “What are you saying?!”
“That she wants to rip off my clothes and take me right here and now. That she wants me to bend her over one of these small tables and make her scream in pleasure. That she-”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” you stopped him and feigned choking noises. “She favors you. It’s nothing surprising, honestly. She apparently has a weak spot for younger men and even teachers here. It’s an open secret she stays married to Mr. Nam for the sake of their business, and it’s also an open secret that some men here, teachers and parents equally, have fallen for her charms already.”
Jaehyun grinned. “Charms… Exactly.”
At the same moment, you lifted your finger. “Don’t you dare! I swear, Jaehyun, you’re involved here to help me with my promotion, not cause havoc. Stay as far away from my childrens’ parents as possible!”
Jaehyun stopped in his tracks, lifting his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I get it. Don’t worry! She’s annoying and not my type either way.”
“Because she’s much older than you, hm?”
Somehow, this assumption put you at ease, but not fully. Because, in the end, you were five years older than Jaehyun as well. You weren’t quite able to wrap your head around the reason as to why this even bothered you in the first place.
“No,” he denied. “I don’t mind age. Neither do I mind education or status, despite my parents saying so. I embrace smartness, wittiness and the gift to enrich my life.”
“And the girls you bring home are none of that?” It was supposed to be a tease, but your curiosity for an answer dominated the entire question.
He laughed, scarcely and briefly. “Hell, no!”
“I see.” This was a response you could live with very well, along with the statement that he didn’t mind an age gap.
“But this Mrs. Nam…” Jaehyun lowered his voice. “She’s neither of those qualities that I’m looking for. She’s only a shell with no personality who’s been living in her husband’s shadow and seeks quick affairs for validation.”
You were quite flabbergasted, because his judgment seemed totally on point. “Well, you nailed it.”
He smiled smugly. “You said I’m smart after all.”
You playfully slapped his arm. “This again?”
“Nevertheless,” Jaehyun continued, “you’re all that, Miss Neighbor.”
You frowned. “All what?”
“Smart. Witty. And an enrichment to my life.”
With these words, he jumped on the stage where the children already came running towards him.
And you were left behind with hot ears and a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
____
As you had expected, the school festival turned out to be a success, and with as many parents attending as possible, you had been able to introduce Jaehyun as your fiancé to everyone who was interested in finding out who that young man was, supporting and playing with their children.
It had warmed your heart, seeing how they all got along so well with Jaehyun that, the further the day had progressed, the warmth had turned into a stingy ache. The sheer fear that probably, you would never find someone like him again to replace the hole that he would most certainly leave when you had to call this entire thing off.
After all, this was only a pretense.
Wasn’t it?
____
The weekend after the festival, you drove all the way out to the countryside to spend two days in the Nam family’s second residence. Jaehyun had apparently rented a car and he was a naturally good driver, you had to admit.
The family’s holiday home consisted of three big houses in different sizes that were all connected to each other and formed a huge residence, surrounded by many acres of nature. There was a tennis court, a pool, a festive terrace, and even a few horses grazing in the fields. The residence overall looked both spectacular and intimidating to you, who had never set foot into such a habitation ever before.
“This is your room,” the housekeeper announced to you and Jaehyun when she opened the door.
You swallowed, hard. This was a fact that had totally passed by you. The room where you were supposed to spend the night only had one bed. No couch, no canopy, nothing else to lie down on except for this one bed.
“Thank you very much,” Jaehyun said gratefully, not having lost a single ounce of his composure in comparison to you who was still too stunned to speak.
He led you into the room and closed the door behind him, dropping your two bags on the floor. It was a nice room that, apart from the queen size bed, had a balcony and huge windows where the sunlight was able to stream in.
“You brought your tennis clothes, right?” Jaehyun asked, and at that moment, you were quite relieved he hadn’t encountered your sleeping arrangement problems yet or chose to purposefully ignore it. Either of it was fine for you as for now, there was another hurdle to master before this day would end: lunch, followed by tennis with the Nams, and then dinner.
“Yes, I just haven’t expected that you would be able to play.”
He snickered. “Oh, you would be surprised about many of my skills.”
“Ew, if this means what I think it means, stop it!”
“Come on, did you always have this huge stick up your-”
You lifted one finger to silent him. “Don’t say it out loud!”
“Fine,” Jaehyun gave in and shrugged. “But try loosening up every now and then, even when you’re in teacher mode. I tell you, life is much more fun like that.”
You decided to ignore him and circled the bed that was somehow ironically the center of the entire room. You then seated yourself on one side of the bed where you dumped your bag on your lap and started unpacking.
“I’m sleeping on this side and you on the other. You're gonna stay as far away from me as possible and we’ll build a wall of pillows. If I catch you breaking through the barrier at any point during the night, I’ll kick you.”
“I promise, I won’t touch you.” And then, he added sneakily, “Unless you say so, of course.”
Luckily, he couldn’t see your face as you arose and put your clothes in the closet.
Your cheeks were so heated.
____
Lunch went by fast with you not having to interact with the Nams much as you had eaten at another table. But you were able to connect with a few other parents whose favor you had won very easily - mostly thanks to Jaehyun who was perfect in his role and did most of the chit chat himself. You didn’t complain, it played all too well into your cards as smalltalk wasn’t your strongest character trait anyway.
Jaehyun nailed the late-twenties COO scheme like he was living it in reality. It was insane how well he knew about almost everyone’s work environment as though he had indeed already graduated years ago and could keep up with the other guests in regards to business talk. He seemed well-educated, eloquent and charming. He was perfect in his role.
"We’re doing well, but I feel like we could improve our international growth a bit,” one man on your table, also the parent of a child enrolled in your kindergarten, pointed out. “The European market is proving to be a bit more complex than anticipated."
"I hear you,” Jaehyun acknowledged. “Expanding into Europe can definitely be tricky. It’s a diverse market with varying regulatory environments, consumer preferences, and competitive landscapes.”
“What’s been your experience so far in terms of the challenges?” the man asked back. “Have you already tested the waters?”
You inhaled sharply. How was Jaehyun supposed to answer that?
“Yes, we did,” he replied almost nonchalantly though and sipped at his water glass. “Is it more about local market adaptation, or are there specific operational or regulatory hurdles that are slowing things down for you? Personally, I can tell-”
It was unbelievable. But you were not complaining and just let him do his job while you shifted your attention to the women at the table. One of them was the business man’s wife who had just asked about the European market, and thus a parent of the child attending your kindergarten as well.
“I heard that you were very popular among the children, miss,” she told you with a smile that didn’t seem quite sincere.
Perhaps you were just paranoid, but you believed that by now, working among mischievous children for years already, you were able to tell the difference. With another two women turning their attention towards you, you felt like you had been thrown right into a shark tank, and your lifeline in the form of your fake fiancé was in no sight but caught up with the European business market.
“I heard so too, miss,” one of the other women chimed in. “Tell us, what makes you so different from other teachers? One would guess you aren’t strict enough.”
There it was, the flash of guile that nearly simultaneously was visible in all the women’s eyes for not even the blink of a second, yet it hadn’t passed by you. You weren’t determined to let these hyenas eat you up alive, you had worked too hard to come this far just to let mean girls make you give up.
“I believe I strike the perfect balance between kindness and strictness,” you explained with a calm voice, but under the table, you were nervously kneading your sweaty fingers. “Every child knows they can always come to me, be it for struggles concerning their school experience or personal ones.”
Instantly, the eyebrows of the student’s mother raised up. “Personal struggles?” she nearly squealed, but the loudness luckily got drowned out by the heated business talk of the men at the same table.
“Does this mean you’re asking them about personal things?” the second woman pressed the topic.
Now, you furrowed yourself. What were they on? “What I mean by it is that if my students ever encounter problems of any kind that they cannot share with anyone else at that moment, my door is always open for them, and they know it.”
“For me,” the third woman intercepted, “it sounds like you’re more of a friend than a teacher.”
“Respectfully, that’s not what I said, and I apologize if I delivered the message wrongly. But-”
“Oh.” They looked at each other meaningfully and let you become quiet before the first woman picked up the conversation again. “Are you saying we are too uneducated to get the gist of your sentences?”
You were completely flabbergasted. You had already gotten to know many parents, but always in a safe environment and in the presence of other teachers where they had never acted like this in any scenario possible. Was this how the parents treated the teachers in private? Was this the environment the children grew up in and you would need to deal with on a daily basis when you got the promotion?
While you were still in your thoughts and preparing a reply in your head that didn’t consist of any curse word, you suddenly felt a warm hand wrapping around yours under the table and giving you an encouraging squeeze.
“What my fiancée wants to say,” Jaehyun interrupted confidently, but politely, “is that with the educational environment given nowadays, teachers are trained to be strict and rule with an iron fist. They are pressured to push their students towards the top regardless of their feelings and needs. Thus, the children feel pressured themselves and rarely have no authority person they can turn to.” You halted your breath, and the women apparently did as well as they looked at Jaehyun with shock over his provoking words. He was harshly criticizing the entire education system for which, to a huge part, the parents were responsible for as well. “Under these circumstances, they really appreciate a teacher like my fiancée, who does not only make sure that every child reaches its full potential at this young age, but she also gives them the feeling that not all teachers only care for their success, but also for their personal wellbeing. And if this is not a trait that more teachers need to have nowadays, then I don’t know what is. I think your children are very lucky to have a teacher with a strong message like my fiancée.”
The entire table had quiet down at this point to listen to Jaehyun’s words who still had not let go of your hand. He was right, to a hundred percent, but speaking these words out among these people was like an invitation to get you fired on the spot.
“I agree with Mr. Jeong,” a female voice behind you then said, and as you shifted around, you spotted Mr. and Mrs. Nam standing right behind you. “His fiancée teaches my daughter Soah and not only does she get the best grades, but she’s also very happy with her teacher. I think we need more teachers like her.”
This was a support you had never expected of ever receiving. From them? And then, the men at your table, followed by the women, agreed with the Nams vocally. Was it really that easy, would they go with everything this married couple wanted just to stay in this circle? It was an interesting observation.
But then, your gaze fell upon Mrs. Nam who stared at Jaehyun, and then everything fell into place.
Well, if it helped with your promotion, then you would let her look at him as long as she wanted.
As long as he only looked at you and held only your hand, just like now.
____
“Ouch.”
“I thought you were able to play tennis?” Jaehyun asked as he carried you up the stairs in a piggy-back. “I didn't expect you to trip and fall all within the first fifteen minutes.”
Even though you weren’t able to see his expression, you felt that he had to clearly suppress a laugh right now. “Be quiet, I don’t want to hear anything about it.”
“Ah, did someone maybe sugarcoat their skills a bit too much? To your luck, the Nams were just as shocked and cared more about your wellbeing than your lack of skills, so all’s good. I believe they found it rather endearing.”
You grumbled and lowered your head, resting it on his shoulder. Jaehyun had regularly only worn loungewear, so you had never quite made out the shape of his body. Or you had never been particularly interested in it. But now that you were being carried on his back, you couldn’t help but feel his strong muscles tense beneath your body, lifting you like you weighed nothing for him.
It was true. You had only taken three tennis lessons and had then dropped it for the lack of time and motivation. But since this had been not too long ago, you had thought the experience would suffice. You had been so, so wrong though. Mr. and Mrs. Nam were immaculate and Jaehyun didn’t fall short on them.
Was there something he did not master?
“Who are you even?” you asked Jaehyun when you were finally through your room’s door. He placed you on the bed where he inspected the wounds on both your knees. “Honestly, Jaehyun. It’s like you’re not only blending in, you’re really… living this role.”
Jaehyun approached the door to leave again and get a first aid kit, but not without pivoting back to you one more time and saying with a meaningful and nearly reproachful tone, “You still haven’t cared enough to get to know me on a deeper level, right? All you wanted to know so far was about women, not me as a person. You’d wonder how easy it is to find information about my family online if only you know enough.”
And with that, he left you alone in your room with not only scraped and bleeding knees, but a heart that slowly started hurting nearly just as much.
It was true. You had been too busy with preparations for the upcoming events, pulling through your scheme and working towards a potential promotion, that you had not once put a single thought into Jaehyun as a person. You had wondered at times, but had never really made the effort.
Wasn’t that what he had preached about you earlier? That you were so open-minded, the children could always come to you? So why did you lack this skill when it came down to your personal life? That was probably also very much the reason you barely had friends left anymore. Too selfish, too focused on your career and only using people for the sake of your own benefit. Like Jaehyun.
But you didn’t want to continue with this behaviour anymore and eventually become like the parents here, so bigoted, condemning and toxic. You couldn’t let that happen to yourself.
So you did what Jaehyun had wanted you to do all this time: You just looked up his name online.
… And stared at him with your mouth agape when he returned to the room with the first aid kit.
He stood by the door, unsure how to proceed. “So, you know.”
You threw your phone on the bed and folded your arms across your chest. “Why did you never tell me?”
“Well, did you ever ask?” His gaze was sharp, but he didn’t seem reproachful anymore as he had most likely caught on the deep regret reflected in your eyes. “All you ever did was assume based on what you’ve seen or heard in some cases. Assuming I was some lazy student with nothing in my mind except for women. There were enough hints given by me for you to look through this facade. But you never cared in the first place.”
That was true, but it was also part of your job. Children were more likely to never tell you what was going on in their lives, so you had to be really attentive as a teacher. Most of the time, you were right about their current feelings, especially the struggles, despite them not talking about it.
This skill apparently didn’t apply to adults as you had gotten proven wrong several times today already. Adults were way smarter in hiding who they truly were, only revealing what they wanted others to see. Jaehyun was the perfect example.
“I’m sorry.” Your head dropped and you only heard how Jaehyun shifted in his position, followed by his footsteps approaching you.
He then knelt in front of you and opened the first aid kit as he started talking, “The corporation is my parents’ business, I have nothing to do with it and don’t want anything to do with it.”
“All this time, I thought it was just a company that you’ve made up yourself when you talked to the businessmen during lunch.”
“Of course my position was made up, and it won’t take them too long to find out that a certain Mr. Jeong, who coincidentally holds the same last name as its CEO, is indeed not a COO, but an entirely different man.” He took out some disinfectant that he then sprayed on your hurt knees. You inhaled sharply and under much pain, but were determined not to make a sound. “I’ve grown up in this business environment, so naturally I’m very conversational in this matter if you had wondered about that. I just know a lot of business chit chat to make them keep talking, nothing that needs too much deep dive into a topic. I also took tennis classes when I was younger and the car we came here with? That’s also mine.”
You gulped. You had not even asked about the car at all. All that you had been doing was assuming and assuming and assuming. You had pegged him as a lousy student from the very beginning, and not once had it crossed your mind to ask him about anything.
All you ever had to do was ask, and he would have replied in all honesty - just like now.
“You said you wanted nothing to do with your parents’ business,” you repeated his words when he gently patted your knees with a clean cloth. “Why?”
“Currently, I’m still under my parents’ guard and sadly also financially bound to them. I didn’t have another choice after what happened with my ex, even though I really despise my current situation. I was lucky enough that they didn’t cut off my financial support altogether, otherwise I couldn’t study at all. But at least I can live alone and thus can taste a bit of freedom and independence. They expect me to join their business after my graduation, even though I refused so many times already.”
“What do you want to do then?” You were genuinely curious now. “If not joining their business?”
“Start my own business.” He then pulled out a long string of band aid and cut respective pieces from it, two in the sizes of your injuries. “I was able to enroll in this top university with a promise to my parents that I will join them after my graduation. Hell will break loose when I come forward with the truth though, but I will pay it all back to them. That is why I’m now saving up as much money as possible to be independent after my studies. There are so many varieties of fields business management is useful for.”
Gently, Jaehyun put a bandaid on your injury, one on each side. His touch was so tender, almost feathery-light, and you shuddered comfortably. “What kind of business do you have in mind?”
Jaehyun shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I will eventually find out. After my graduation, I want to travel around first and go to Europe, see a little bit of the world. And then it will all fall into place, I’m positive about that. If anything, I don’t want to be dependent on my parents anymore and follow in their footsteps. I want to be my own person, I need to be.”
“The bleached hair… the women… when you only hung around in joggers… Was that some kind of rebellion?” A glimpse into a life he had never been fully able to live out under his parents’ guard. A bit of fun.
“Let’s say I got raised very strictly by my parents, just like the children in your kindergarten, so I can very much relate.” That was why he could grasp exactly how the parents and children felt. He had grown up in this exact environment. It all made sense now. “My mother nearly fell off the chair when she saw that I’ve bleached my hair and wanted to send me to a hairdresser right away. My father stopped bothering me about joining business meetings. It worked all to my favor. It’s not that I’m not grateful that they still help me out, they just haven’t learned to respect my own wishes. Maybe one day, when I’m successful too, they’ll eventually understand.”
“So, why did you agree on doing this with me then?” you wanted to know when Jaehyun put the utensils back in the kit. “Just to practice your skills for the future? For the connection? Because I don’t believe you need that much tutoring after hearing all this. Or was it solely for fun?”
“Perhaps,” he interrupted hesitantly, “I just wanted to help my Miss Neighbor when she needed someone without asking for anything in return, because nobody ever helped me. Is that too far off when I need to answer this question again? Does it not fit your narrative?”
Nobody ever helped him? Ouch.
So people could really be selfless. People like Jaehyun.
Even though you were older, you were still able to learn so much from him.
“You don’t fit my narrative at all,” you reluctantly confessed. “But I am willing to change it.”
He lifted his head to face you and smiled in agreement. “There you go, all good now.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you too.”
“So, Europe,” you picked up the topic again, swung your legs onto the bed and leaned back into the pillows. “Which countries excite you the most?”
That afternoon, you learned that Jaehyun had never been outside of the country, which really shocked you considering how wealthy his family was. But you also learned that, as the only son of successful business people, there had never been more to his world than his parents’ own little world. They had offered to send him abroad to study, but he had declined as he had never been on his own and got cold feet. Something he deeply regretted now.
You realized that Jaehyun had been living under the pressure and expectations of his strict parents all along and was only now slowly discovering the world. The fact that he fully went out in university, additionally with another woman by his side almost every night, was a response to his upbringing. You had studied this in your major.
It was the mere acts of a boy who had only discovered freedom, as he should.
“Living on my own was already a huge step towards independence. I can’t wait to see more of the world,” he elaborated, sitting on your bedside now. “Have you already been somewhere out of the country?”
“Japan and Vietnam, yes,” you replied and yawned. “But that was a long time ago, even before I studied.”
“You’ve never been to Europe either?” You shook your head. “Then you should consider coming with me.”
“I’ll probably be a teacher soon, Jaehyun. Even now, I hardly get any time off, so sadly, I won’t be able to do that. But it’s nice to dream about it. Maybe in the future it will be possible.”
“Hm.” He arose from the mattress and suggested, “You seem tired, how about you take a short nap until dinner? I’ll wake you up then.”
“Oh, that would be nice.” You yawned again. “But what are you going to do until then?”
“Making sure you'll get that job you really want.”
He was fascinating you more and more with each bypassing day.
____
During dinner, you were seated at the Nams’ table, exactly at the opposite of the married couple. You didn’t miss the fact that Mrs. Nam seemed to be in really high spirits, and she and her husband had asked about your wellbeing more than once.
“Tell us, Mr. Jeong, how did you meet your fiancée?” Mr. Nam eventually wanted to know from Jaehyun.
You had prepared yourselves for this, you had made up an entire story about your first meeting with all the details someone could be curious about, and the rest you would just improvise. Jaehyun was supposed to say that you had met in university since you had both aged him up to fit the storyline.
“We first met when she moved into the apartment next to mine.”
Thank god you were already done with the main course, because you were sure you would have choked on your grilled beef they had served earlier.
“It was early in the morning, just a few days after she moved in. She was in a rush and I had just come back from an all nighter at the library. It was exam time and I suppose she was also in a hurry because of these circumstances.”
At least Jaehyun stayed true to the fake story by making you both university students. But what was he up to, why didn’t he follow your plan in all details?
You desperately tried to lock eyes with him to give him some kind of signal to stop this, but he ignored you on purpose and just smiled at the guests while telling the story. Though he reached his hand out to your lap, searched for your fingers and embraced them as though in reassurance. Reassurance about what when he was not acting according to the plan at all?
“I was in the lobby, about to get on the elevator when the doors opened and a young woman stormed out of it. She had her bag in one hand, books and her jacket in the other, as well as a cup of coffee balancing on her fingers. She unsuccessfully tried to close the lid with the hand that was holding her bag.”
Wait…
This was not a made up story. You vaguely remembered being in such a situation shortly after you had moved in. Instead of running late to university, you were running late to work, because you had calculated the commute time wrongly from this part of the city, even though it was closer to the kindergarten. You had successfully wiped this memory out of your mind, for the reason of…
“She was so caught up with her stuff that she didn’t see me and just stormed out of the elevator as soon as the door opened,” Jaehyun continued and earned a few giggles from the listeners. “She bumped right into me and the next moment, I had her coffee all over my shirt.”
… for this exact reason. It was too embarrassing to be kept as a memory. And the guy from that fateful having turned out to be Jaehyun himself was the cherry on top. Why had he never said a word about this incident?
Your embarrassment visibly showed on your cheeks as their color changed, gaining you a few amiable gazes from the guests.
“She barely looked up as she apologized and tried to drop all her things to clean up the mess.”
“But I didn’t,” you remembered, speaking out loudly, “because you said I should hurry up and go to wherever I needed to go right now, and then cleaned everything up yourself.”
“Exactly,” Jaehyun laughed and a few joined. “You apologized three times and ran out, and I cleaned up the mess with the help of the lobbyist. I knew someone in such a haste had to be somewhere important early in the morning, and I didn’t want to be a hindrance to that, even though I didn’t know you yet.”
A few women at the table let out an “awww”, Mrs. Nam being one of them.
Now, Jaehyun turned to you and met your confused face with a confident expression of his own. “I had barely looked up,” you added, “because I was too embarrassed, so I couldn’t remember your face. I was just hoping that I would never meet that person again, whoever it might have been.”
Jaehyun addressed the guests and declared, “Fate was not on her side when it turned out to be her next-door-neighbor. Luckily for her, I never mentioned it.”
Laughers from all sides now and you had a hard time keeping your mouth closed that was constantly on the verge of falling agape at this story. You had had no idea.
“Why not?” you then pressed the topic, your role threatening to crumble as you quickly filled in, “I think everyone here is curious as to why you have never told me until we got together.”
“Because I knew how hard working and busy you always were.” You returned to looking at each other, now unsure whether he spoke through his role or spoke as Jaehyun himself. “And I didn’t want to teeter your attention and let our first meeting get overshadowed by an embarrassing moment for you that might bear negative echoes. From that day on though, I was determined to win you over another way and kept this story a secret for later on. I just haven’t expected how difficult that would be.”
“A real gentleman,” a woman commented and she gently nudged her husband in the side.
“For two months, I was trying so many things to get her attention. But it turned out to be rather challenging, because this woman wouldn’t look at me even once if it was not for pouring coffee all over me.” Jaehyun covered his face with the back of his hand as if shyness threatened to break through. “I held the door open for her, waited for her in the lobby, took the same elevator or coincidentally ran into her in the convenience store. All to no avail. She didn’t spare me a single glance again. Not even when my attempts went more…” He paused and withdrew his hand, letting a serious expression full of regret flash by his face before it returned to his gleeful mien, “... vocal. I think at some point, she even started resenting me. But for me, it was enough. She finally recognized me.”
You didn’t know what to feel. It was a totally new story for you, and you were so sure he had just come up with it. But on the other hand, the entire storytelling sounded too real, too full of details and emotions to have just been made up on the spot.
And the way he looked at you while telling all that... It was a story for the public, but the way he delivered it, the way he still held your hand under the table, indicated that he was telling it to you, and only you. The entire table, even the room, didn’t exist anymore, only you two.
Your fingers started to tremble.
“So, how did you eventually win her over?” Mrs. Nam asked curiously and Jaehyun’s gaze swiftly shifted to hers before returning to you.
“I found out she needed help with a small favor, so I offered it to her. As to not make it so obvious and awkward for her again, I feigned to not be as good at studying as I actually am and needed to get tutored by her. Otherwise she would have never accepted my help without giving anything in return, or the feeling of it. And the rest is history.”
The crowd was partially in awe and partially shocked at this bold move. You belonged to the latter. Was this still part of your scheme? Then why was he telling the story so close to the truth?
“Mr. Jeong saw what he wanted and went for it,” Mr. Nam concluded. “That’s a true businessman here.”
“How did you react?” Mrs. Nam then wanted to know from you. “Finding out he schemed his way into your heart?”
It was supposed to be a funny remark, but you were not amused by it one bit. Yet, you brought yourself to crack a smile that was far too crooked to be genuine and shook off Jaehyun’s hand from yours.
Luckily, no one noticed.
Except for Jaehyun himself.
“I was totally shocked,” you answered Mrs. Nam. “But it turns out his scheming abilities have become really beneficial for him as he’s always geeting what he wants, am I right?”
Everyone at the table failed to notice your disappointed tone and made the connection to Jaehyun’s business skills as they all started talking again, first complimenting his traits, then falling back into a talk about what to invest in next.
Dessert arrived the next moment, but as you looked at the Panna Cotta in front of you, you didn’t crave for it one bit anymore. In fact, you felt sick to your stomach, and Jaehyun, whose hand now was placed on your thigh in a comforting gesture to make amends, was the cause of all this.
“Excuse me,” you quietly apologized, but nobody noticed you arising from your seat and then disappearing into the hallway.
Jaehyun followed you instantly.
____
“I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Shut up, Jaehyun, I don’t want to hear a single word anymore!”
He was right at the other side of the door, waiting patiently while you were sitting at the other side in your room, grabbing your head in despair and trying to string together the words that had just come out of his mouth.
“But it’s true,” he said with a softer voice now. “What more can I say for you to believe me?”
“All these women…” It just didn’t make sense in your head. “You wanted me and still were with all these women.”
“I was only with them, because I couldn’t be with you. Sometimes, I’m just… a little boy still. What else was there for me to do when the woman I love wouldn’t even look at me? I’d rather had her look at me with disgust than not looking at me at all.”
A long pause followed.
“Yes, you’re just a little boy, Jaehyun. You’d rather trick me than tell me the truth straight up.”
“What would you have said if I had one day just appeared at your doorstep and asked you out? Me, a student, five years your junior, who cannot even compare to the men you meet every day at your job? Sometimes, I regretted wanting to go a different path than what my parents mapped out for me just so that I could keep up with them. But I thought, if you finally got to know the real me, all my other qualities, you would eventually see that I am indeed a match to them. A match for you.”
“But that is no valid reason to lie to me! First the tutoring lessons that you clearly didn’t need just to spend time with me, then…” You gasped. “Had you also lied about getting locked out on that day you appeared at the kindergarten?”
The day he had suddenly exchanged his casual clothes for decent ones and had dyed his hair back to dark. That had not been a fateful coincidence. The fact that he had come to your kindergarten on that exact day dressed like that, it had all been carefully planned.
“I knew you probably thought I wouldn’t be the right candidate for that role with my appearance back then, so I wanted to prove to you that I, indeed, was the best choice with my background, and adapted according to the circumstances. I genuinely wanted to help you, even if not for selfless purposes only. I wanted you to want me too.”
“You tricked me, you manipulated me, and you schemed all your way into my heart.”
You heard him shuffle through the door, probably as perplexed as you were as you repeated your last words in your head. Oh no. You were grateful that he let it pass by him though.
“I’m deeply sorry. I am just a boy who didn’t know how to handle his feelings and who was used to getting whatever he wanted. I think I still have a long way to go to grow up.”
You pulled your knees close to your chest and hugged your arms around your legs. “Why today? Why did you choose today to reveal everything? In front of all these people? Was it one of your schemes too?”
“Not once did I have in mind that I wanted to hurt you. I came out with my feelings today, because they were genuine, and your reaction would be genuine too. And it worked, everyone out there believed it. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Yes, this was everything that you had wanted. But why was it hurting so much then? Not only because Jaehyun had gone through all these lengths to make your dream come true, but also because you had wasted this much time together. So, so much time.
“So what if I disposed of you right after this?” Your voice sounded icier than it was supposed to, and he noticed it. “Would you have told everyone the truth out of spite?”
“After all, is that what you still think of me?” His pain was almost palpable and you regretted your question right away. Perhaps, because you wanted him to answer differently, but he replied just like you had secretly wanted him to, “If I had helped you make your dream come true, and you had still chosen them over me, then yes, I would have been very hurt. But I would have been happy for you, too. Isn’t that what love is about?”
This was probably the most mature thing he had said to you today. “And if I had chosen you?”
“After tonight, I believe that if it comes down to me and them, you would pick them.”
Was that what he was thinking of you now? Your heart ached when you asked, “Why do you think that?”
“I saw what you’re dealing with, what you try to achieve. You are too much of a hard worker to throw this all away for a normal student with no real plans, no perspective. Someone who can offer you nothing but a promise that he will work hard to help you achieve everything you want.”
A student with no perspective. Was that how Jaehyun saw himself?
Yes, he had grown up in a business environment and surrounded by wealth, but he was an enrichment to your life without all that too, in ways your workplace and the people in it had never been. Yes, you loved your job and your students, they were the center of your world, and you were working so very hard for achievement after achievement.
So hard that it had totally passed by you that you yourself had been the center of the world for someone, and it was actually nice to finally have a person look at you when you had only been overlooked by exactly these people before, who you were trying so hard to impress. And what for?
Jaehyun might only offer promises, but he always made sure to live up to them. Wasn’t this worth so much more?
“I’ll go downstairs again,” he then announced quietly when you didn’t say something in an uncomfortable long time. “If you don’t feel like coming, you can stay here and I’ll find an excuse, don’t worry about that.”
Your front teeth sank into your bottom lip. Jaehyun had been right. Perhaps, you would have called him an idiot for having asked you out the very first day you met.
“Idiot!” you called out to him now for a whole other reason as you opened the door and dashed after him.
With much surprise twinkling in his eyes, you now stood in front of him and crossed your arms.
“What?”
“You’re an idiot,” you repeated. “If you believe that after everything, when it comes down between you and them, I’d pick them, then you’re an idiot. Because I’d pick you.”
Jaehyun didn’t have much time to process what you had just said as you slung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you.
The moment you kissed Jaehyun for the very first time you realized that all of this might not have entirely been a scheme at all, from both of your sides.
He kissed you back with much passion and fierceness, and you felt that exactly these feelings had been lingering inside of you as well.
You just weren’t sure for how long already. In the end, it didn’t really matter.
____
“Here?” you asked Jaehyun with widened eyes when you fell back on the bed.
He crawled on top of you. “Do you think I’ll wait any longer for this?”
“But everyone is still downstairs, finishing dinner.”
“Good,” he whispered and kissed your neck. “Then no one will hear us.”
You chuckled when his playful pecks turned into sensual kisses and he eventually started sucking on the sensitive skin. Goose bumps spread all over your upper body, and you couldn’t remember when you had last been with a man while Jaehyun… You balked.
Immediately, he heaved up his head, looking at you with a surprised expression. He stroked your temple. “What’s wrong?”
You didn’t want to admit it. The fact that you felt intimidated by his experience despite you being older. That you felt inferior to all the women he’d ever let in his bed that were far prettier than you. Or so you thought.
But Jaehyun didn’t share your opinion when you hesitantly tried to explain your worries to him.
“You don’t have to worry about any noise coming from my apartment anymore. Because you’re the only one who’s gonna lie in my bed from now on. Okay?”
“Okay.” You giggled when he kissed your cheek. “I really like that.”
Jaehyun sat back up on his knees while suggesting you to keep laying still. He reached out his hands and unbuttoned your blouse. You helped him take off the piece of clothing by winding your body to the side for better access. He then brought his head down to the beginning of your breast and placed a light kiss on a spot that made you shudder.
With both his pointer fingers, he then searched for the straps of your bra and pulled them aside. You wiggled your arms out of the tightness it had provided, having Jaehyun drag the underwear down enough only for your breasts to lay bare. You turned your gaze to the ceiling and hoped he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks as you weren’t quite sure what to do or how to behave anymore.
But Jaehyun, on the contrary, knew exactly what he was doing and how to behave. He put your nipple between his lips and started sucking on it, supporting his body with one hand. A pleasurable feeling streamed through your body whenever he wetted the mound and had his teeth gently tug on it.
With his free hand, he massaged your other breast that had still remained untouched, and the blissful feeling of being pleasured on both sides suddenly started coiling between your legs where you already felt Jaehyun growing hard in between.
“You like that?” He was suddenly up by your ear again, muttering, “By the sounds you make, I take it as a yes.”
You had made sounds? You hadn’t been aware of that, but Jaehyun seemed to enjoy it very much, judging the way he beamed at you.
He helped you up to a seated position so that you were able to take off your bra entirely before he let you fall back onto the mattress. Jaehyun had his own shirt unbuttoned and on the floor the next moment, and you swallowed a gasp at how well built he actually was. Prominent muscles showed off abs and his arms were unexpectedly muscular. You stared at him in awe, somehow desiring to have his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.
“Like what you see?” He flashed a grin.
Jaehyun was on his knees now, fiddling with his belt that he intended to open, but you couldn’t wait that long to finally touch him. So you arose from your position and grabbed him by his belt yourself. With one swift motion, you had him freed from this barrier, but didn’t withdraw your hands right away. Instead, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants yourself.
Jaehyun stayed patiently silent during your actions, his hand entangled in the hair at the back of your head. When you were about to drag down his pants, a huge bulge was already foreshadowing what you would find underneath. Yet, you still let out a gasp when you slid down his boxers and his cock sprang free in front of you.
You lifted your hands, but then halted. “May I…?”
You didn’t know if asking was even necessary, but given that it was your first time with him, you wanted to be sure that he really wanted his intimate favors to be returned.
“You may do whatever you want with it,” Jaehyun growled in anticipation of what was about to come.
You cupped his entire length with one hand and watched in amusement how his head rolled back in satisfaction. His chest irregularly lifted with each breath when you started moving your hand up and down.
You cracked a smile, speeding up your motions that then elicited moans out of Jaehyun that he eventually successfully suppressed through gritted teeth. People were still dining downstairs, but you also didn’t want to risk being overheard. With your thumb, you slid over the tip of his dick that was already wet and sticky from his precum.
You looked up to Jaehyun who turned his gaze down to you, probably wondering why you had suddenly stopped. But then he found you looking at him with much lust, bringing your thumb to your mouth from where you then licked up all his precum.
It was one of the hottest things Jaehyun had ever seen, and he immediately brought your faces together to kiss you passionately and fiercely.
Not much later, you were laying on your back again, entirely naked this time, and Jaehyun was settled between your legs, his elbows braced against the mattress on either side of your head. He nudged you to open your thighs, and you were more than willing to finally welcome him.
Jaehyun did everything in his might to reassure you as you distorted your face at the sharp pain shooting through your lower abdomen upon him entering you with his tip. It had been a long time, so your body was not adjusted to this kind of stretching anymore, and it let you feel it.
Jaehyun moved very slowly though, with pauses in between, until he was fully sheathed inside of you. And eventually, when he stilled to let you adapt, pain turned into the long awaited pleasure. Suddenly, him filling you out so fully was not an inconvenience anymore, but something inside you screamed for him to go deeper than that so that you would feel more of him.
Your fingers interlaced in the back of Jaehyun’s neck and his lips came down to kiss you over and over again. He wanted to be assured that you were really okay with him continuing before he ultimately started stroking.
It still stung when he withdrew himself. But after only two thrusts, you felt nothing anymore except for the ungraspable desire for him to push inside you again. And again. And again. Whenever he pulled out, you couldn’t bear to have him in this position for too long, because you wanted him to hit the spot he had just found. And again. And again.
“Shhhh-” Jaehyun halted and laughed quietly before kissing you. “You want everyone to hear you now?”
“Oh!” You brought your hands in front of your mouth to suffocate the moans that you apparently had let out unconsciously. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t ever be sorry. You can moan if you don’t mind them.”
But you shook your head. “I don't want them to hear, but I just can’t help it.”
Jaehyun nodded in understanding and started thrusting into you again. And again, you let out a moan despite your efforts to keep your lips sealed. You slid your arms under his and hugged his back. Simultaneously, you brought your legs up and hooked them behind him. The bed shook under you, but luckily it was not making much noise.
Gently, you bit into Jaehyun’s shoulder to muffle your sounds, and as he didn’t react to it with a wince of pain, you got assured that it was okay for him. On the contrary, he got even braver now. Where he had seemingly been holding himself back this entire time, he was now grabbing the headboard and used it as a support to speed up his stroking game.
He slammed into you over and over, and you were holding onto him like a lifeline now with your head buried in his chest. Your thighs tensed around his hips as you felt the pleasure that had accompanied you all throughout the act coiling up to a destructive ball between your legs. It tugged on every fiber of your body, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on it, otherwise, you thought, it would tear you apart.
“Oh, Jaehyun,” you breathed, your nails digging deep into his skin on the back. “I-”
You let out a long breath, very well aware of the fact that when the feeling finally came crashing down on you, you would be in no position to hold in the noises that would pass your lips.
You then were petrified, eyes widening in shock when you suddenly overheard steps and noises in the hallway. People had finished dinner and were now returning to their rooms, it seemed. There was no way you could now end this with noises!
Jaehyun was very well aware of your surroundings too though, but was not determined to let anyone disrupt what he had been dreaming to do to you for months already. He nodded in silence and pressed you back down on the mattress. With his palm flat, he then covered your mouth, but made sure your nostrils were still free for you to breathe properly. You looked at him with glistening eyes, your arms now loose around his neck.
“Scream,” he summoned. “Scream all you want. I’ll make sure nobody will hear you.”
And you did.
You screamed your heart out into his hand when you came undone beneath him, fingers scratching over his shoulders and toes curled up as your entire body convulsed. And he drowned every single sound so that nobody could hear you except for him only.
When Jaehyun let go of you with a sneaky grin, your mouth was dry and your vision blurry, but you could still watch his sweaty chest arise above you when he prepared himself for his own heights. Deep toned moans entered your ears and you smiled softly as you let him cum all inside you with a few more thrusts that eventually slowed down.
Jaehyun fell limply next to you, but, with his remaining strength, he still managed to pull you up to his chest so that you could find a comfortable spot there. It was already dark outside and you heard one door close after another, indicating that people were now ending the day.
“So, you still want to sleep with a wall of pillows between us?” Jaehyun teased and played with a strand of your hair.
You laughed when you remembered how you had initially been so worried about the one bed setup.
Now, it was very conventional.
____
You only remembered falling asleep and dreaming soundly in Jaehyun’s arms after two more rounds of muffled screams and shaking orgasms.
When you woke up much later, still in the middle of the night though, those arms that had held you warm were no longer wrapped around you, and your bed was missing his body.
Your first thought was that Jaehyun had fled and your heart jumped to your throat. That he had realized he didn’t want you after all and just dropped you like that. That you were, in fact, unlovable.
You slowly started to calm down again though when you saw his bag still laying where he had placed it and part of his clothes that he had worn the evening before still neatly folded on the chair in front of the dressing table.
“Jaehyun?” you asked carefully when you got out of the bed and threw on your pajama pants and a t-shirt.
You approached the bathroom, but no light was coming from inside, indicating that no one was in there after all, and when you eventually opened the door, you found out that you had been correct.
Where could he have disappeared to? It was so odd.
You slid into your slippers with the intention of leaving the room as quietly as possible. You knew you could have also waited for Jaehyun to return, but something inside you wouldn’t be able to casually get back to sleep without an anxious feeling, so you needed to get rid of it in an instant and find him.
You didn’t need to look for long though. The moment you opened the door, he was already standing right in front of you, not less surprised by your sudden appearance as vice versa.
“Where have you been?” you whispered when he closed the door behind him after stepping into the room.
With a swift motion, he held a bottle of water in front of you. “I was thirsty, so I went to get something to drink from the kitchen.”
“Oh…” You had been so anxious for nothing.
“What?” he grinned when he went over to the table and placed the bottle on it. “You thought I sneaked out in the middle of the night?”
You shrugged and seated yourself on the bedside with a long sigh while Jaehyun opened the water bottle and drank from it. “When I woke up after my nap this afternoon, you weren’t here either. I know you went to the talk with the Nams, but…”
Jaehyun placed the bottle down again and closed the lid. “Were you afraid I had suddenly left? Or worse… that I was with another woman?”
“Well…” You averted your gaze by turning your head to the side. “You’ve been with many women after all. And I’ve always heard everything.”
Jaehyun didn’t respond until he stood in front of you and had your face cupped with his hands. “What if I tell you that throughout this childish act, there has always been just one woman I wanted to be with, and now that I have her, I don’t need anyone else anymore?”
You lowered your gaze and smiled reluctantly. Despite the darkness, you saw the entire truth flicker in his eyes and believed every word that he said. Why shouldn’t you after all? He had done all this just for you.
“I believe you.”
“Very well.” He kissed you and crawled back into the bed to where you followed him. “So, what should we do when we return home tomorrow?”
You first got on your knees and fluffed up your pillow. “What do you mean?”
Jaehyun grabbed you by your arm and pulled you towards him. The next moment, you laid with your stomach flat on top of him and he brushed through your hair, gently kissing your parting. “I don’t mean we have to get married by the time of your promotion. Yet.” You blushed, but luckily he couldn’t see. “But if you start going out with me, I’d be just as happy, Miss Neighbor.”
You braced your arms against the mattress and lifted your upper body up so that you could wind yourself and face him. “If you think I would ever give up that spot next to you on the bed now, then you’re so wrong.”
“I like the way you think.”
A deep kiss followed, only interrupted by your muffled whimpers when he pulled down your pants and nudged hard between your legs again.
____
You had parted with the hosts on magnificent terms with Mr. Nam exclusively promising you that he would vote for you to get the job. As of this weekend, you, with the help of your fake fiancé turned real boyfriend, had proven to be the best candidate for the soon to be open position, and if anyone still thought otherwise, Mr. Nam would convince them himself.
Mrs. Nam had only silently nodded, seeming displeased over something, but you didn’t bother too much about her mood swings since you had never liked her anyway. If you had her husband’s word, then nothing else mattered anymore.
You had one week left to prepare yourself for the meeting with the board, but since everything seemed to be home and dry, you could relax most days and spent every night at your neighbor’s over there in room 803.
“Scream,” Jaehyun had said the first time you went next door, sitting naked on top of him with your hips locked on his. He had let his hands roam over your cheeks and squeezed tightly into the flesh. “You can scream as loud as you want here. Don’t care about the neighbors.”
And, as a matter of fact, the screams that came out of room 803 from that night on, only belonged to you.
____
“I’m very sorry to deliver this message to you, miss,” the director said, “but we cannot offer you the position at our kindergarten in this city.”
In front of you, you visibly saw your whole world shatter.
What had gone wrong? Had you not spoken to the Nams just last weekend, who had promised you that you had secured the position already and the rest were only formalities? What had happened in the past days that must have apparently changed their minds completely?
“I’m sorry, I think I might have misunderstood,” you apologized, “I assumed the parents who are also part of the investor group, for example Mr. and Mrs. Nam, also have a say in this. Do they not?”
You had already been welcomed with a dreadful feeling when you had opened the door and only found the director sitting in the room. None of the others had been present unlike the last time. Still, you had hoped that you were wrong.
“Oh, they do, miss. Actually, every parent has approved of you.”
“Then, what changed your mind?” You had a really hard time keeping your voice at a respectful level. You had done everything they had expected of you. Save from… “Is it because I’m still not married? They all know I’m engaged and they know my fiancé. I can always hand in a copy of the certificate later, but we do not have a date yet.”
“Miss…” The director lifted up his hand, smiling this time. “I said we cannot offer you the position at our kindergarten in this city. I repeat the last words: in this city.”
Your brows drew together in skepsis. “So that means…” You didn’t want to speak out loud what you were thinking as you didn’t know yet whether these were better or worse news.
“Congratulations!” The director arose from his chair, rounded the table and approached you. “We offer you the position of an elementary school teacher in one of our Shi-A schools in Busan!”
“In… Busan?”
It was odd how the city’s name was the first word that resonated in your head. Not “elementary school teacher” which even meant a significant upgrade from your current position. But the city’s name. A city on the other side of the country where you would need to move to if you accepted this position. Which meant in retrospect that you had to move out of your current apartment, away from…
“Miss?” The director looked at you curiously. “Are you not pleased about this?”
“I am!” you corrected yourself. “I am truly happy over the fact that you offer me an even higher position now.”
“Fantastic! We are aware that you will have to move then, but don’t worry about the logistics, we will provide for all expenses you need. You can start with the new semester, so there is plenty of time. Isn’t it fortunate?”
He wasn’t aware of the fact that this, indeed, was really unfortunate for you.
____
Not long after you had gotten the work contract to read through and sign until the week after that, you were standing outside of the director’s room, petrified to the core. Too many thoughts were flying into your head that you struggled with to organize.
This was your dream. This was your dream coming true, yet…
“Not happy about your new position after all?”
In front of you stood Mrs. Nam, arms folded across her chest, standing high on her heels. Her lips were curled up to a smile that was all too wicked and did not resemble the persona she had shown to you the majority of the past weekend.
You were at a loss for words as you couldn’t define her expression, but she was happy enough to help you out when she explained, “In the beginning, I fancied your fiancé very much. I thought he wouldn’t say no to a bit of fun with me. Nobody ever had. Until then. Or should I better say… fake fiancé?” Your mouth fell agape, but you were quick to close it with a hard swallow. “Yes, my chin also dropped when I overheard your little conversation after dinner.”
“Let me ex-”
But she only lifted her hand to gesture to you to stop speaking. Her nostrils flared, anger clearly mirrored in her eyes. “After our tennis match, before I found out the truth between you two, I met with him and suggested that he would come to me during nighttime. I had so much fun watching you being all giddy during dinner, knowing that once you’d be asleep, he’d slip into my bed.”
You needed a moment to process everything she had said. When you had been asleep, Jaehyun had met with Mrs. Nam who had then offered him a place in her bed? You were furious. A married woman making advances on a taken man… you had heard about her reputation among the childrens’ mothers, but never had you thought that one day, you would become her victim too.
But more so… Another thought suddenly cut off the air in your lungs. “Jaehyun has not declined?”
Her eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t declined.” Your heart dropped. “When we met during the night, I didn’t mention what I found out. I didn’t care if it meant I could see him more often. But he had recorded the entire conversation and then dared to blackmail me. That bastard had followed his own plan all along. He told me that if you wouldn’t get this position without him needing to share my bed, then he’d play it to my husband, to the entire board and the school if necessary. I told him that if he did that, I would tell everyone you weren’t even together. Unfortunately for me, unlike him, I didn’t have any proof.”
Suddenly, you felt like you could breathe again. Jaehyun hadn’t declined her invitation, because he had his own scheme mapped out and wanted to help you all along.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” you asked sharply. “Luring taken men into your bed as a married woman?”
She raised one brow in questioning. “As far as I know, he hasn’t been taken at that time, am I right?” Unfortunately, she was, but you kept quiet. “The men I’ve been with have never once been happy in their marriage or have drifted apart from their partner already. At best, they already had affairs going on. The only mistake I made this time was choosing someone who I thought was a naive kid. My fault.”
“Is that why you’re sending me away? To get revenge on him for doing what was right and not betraying me?”
Mrs. Nam slowly moved her head from one side to the other. “I’m not sending you away, otherwise my husband would start questioning. I’m giving you a choice. Either stay here in your old position or move to chase after a more glorious future. After all, that’s what you want, right? The lengths you’re going through to get what you want? What’s making you so different from me, then?”
She had thrown the truth over you like a bucket of ice cold water. You had lied your way into the promotion and dragged Jaehyun along with you in the process. Were you really different from them? It was written all over your face, apparently.
“Exactly.” Mrs. Nam grinned. “You remind me of me when I was younger. I also wanted power and wealth, and eventually got trapped in a loveless marriage. I’m not heartless, miss. After all, it only takes me a few phone calls to ruin your fake fiancé and everyone related to him. His little audio has nothing on my power.”
“Then why?” The contract was rattling in your shaking hands. “Why give me a choice in the first place and not fire me on the spot?”
“My daughter adores you very much, she talks about you every day.” A flash of regret passed over her face, but before you could catch the entire meaning of it, it had already vanished. Perhaps, she cared more about her daughter than she had let seen past, but failed to show it. “Back in the days, I made the wrong decision on what to choose. Perhaps, I hope, you’re going to make the right one.” She turned on her heels and lifted up her hand as though she wanted to bid farewell to you. “I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”
The contract was still shaking in your hand long after she had left.
____
When you walked into Jaehyun’s apartment later that day, your face was still like stone, the contract also still in your hands.
On your entire way back home, you had read through each paragraph over and over again. It sounded too good to be true. Nearly the double amount of salary, more days off during vacation and your own assistant teacher. You were offered to teach the first two years of elementary school and if necessary, they would even provide housing for the first three months.
This was everything you’d ever worked hard for and dreamt of.
“I got offered the position of an elementary school teacher from next semester on,” you declared nearly absent-mindedly as you sank down on the couch and handed him over the contract.
“Congratulations!” Jaehyun wore a solemn expression on his face when he flopped down on the cushion next to you. “You want to celebrate?”
His happiness pulled you out of your thoughts and you faced him with an agonized expression. “There is nothing to celebrate about this, Jaehyun! The position is in Busan! That’s on the other side of the country!”
“Okay calm down…” When you made attempts to arise, he touched your upper arm and indicated to you to stay seated. “I know where Busan is. That’s no problem. I’ll just go with you, because I’ll finish university in two months anyway. And after that…”
You cracked a pained smile. “After that you want to go to Europe.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to go to Europe. I can go with you and find a job there.”
“And not living your dream? What you have worked so hard towards after you helped me achieve everything that I wanted? You want to drop that?”
He looked at you like you had just uttered the most ridiculous question someone could ask. “You’re more important to me than that dream.”
“Was that what you also thought when you blackmailed Mrs. Nam?”
Jaehyun drew in a sharp breath. “So you know.”
“You lied to me again!” you yelled. “When will you ever stop lying to me about serious stuff, Jaehyun?”
“I was about to tell you as soon as I knew about the offer, when your position was secured! I saw the chance and I took it! What did she tell you?”
You told him about your encounter with the parent and had arisen from your seated position by the time you finished, walking around the living room in nervous circles now.
“She didn’t just suggest it,” Jaehyun opposed. “She told me, for you to get this position, I’d need to sleep with her, otherwise she would tell her husband what a bad teacher you are. And I was absolutely not going to do it, so I thought if she dared to blackmail me, I could do the same and pretend to be interested just to let it all blow into her face. What would you have done if you knew? There was absolutely nothing you could have done! I turned the situation to your advantage!”
“She could have come forward with the entire truth! She could have gotten me fired and your true identity revealed!” You came to a halt in front of him on the couch and he took your hand into his, trying to calm you down. “Do you know what that could have meant? If you had informed me, we could have tried to figure it out together!”
“And then for you to resent them and quit what you were working so hard for? I was not about to risk that! I was only acting in your best interest.”
You wiggled your hands out of his and shifted around, away from him. “You put both of our futures at risk by doing that, Jaehyun! What if exactly the opposite had happened? What then? Would you have taken responsibility for it?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time and you braced your hands against the table, losing a long breath.
“I just… I just wanted to help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help! I never had! Look at what happened!”
You were just so, so frustrated. You had only gotten this offer, because Jaehyun had interfered. You had only been invited to the getaway weekend, because Jaehyun had interfered. You had only fallen into the parents’ favors, because Jaehyun had interfered.
Had you achieved all this without him as well? Something inside you was assured that you wouldn’t have.
And you resented him for that.
“In the end, you’ve ruined everything I’ve planned and worked so hard for! Had you not come into the picture at all, then I would have gained their favors myself! After I’ve gotten the offer, I would have announced my separation and everything would have been fine!”
Suddenly, Jaehyun was behind you, turning you around by your shoulders. “You know that’s not true,” he said calmly. “I know how these people are, and you now know too. It wouldn’t have worked.”
Yes, you knew. That was why your resentment was so strong. Everything you had ‘achieved’ was ‘achieved’ through a man, with the help of a man. Even the board had only consisted of men, and in the end, Mr. Nam had given you his permission after having bonded with Jaehyun, not yourself.
This was not entirely your own achievement. Everything you had worked so hard for, was in vain in the end, because Jaehyun had only needed to do a bit of small talk, play with his charms, and they were butter in his hands.
Yet, it still hadn’t all worked out in your favor.
“I also have the option to stay, but only in my old position.”
“As I said,” Jaehyun interrupted you with a gentle voice, “I’ll go wherever you go.”
But you weren’t sure whether you wanted this.
You moved past him and grabbed your purse from the couch. “I need time to think.”
When you walked out of Jaehyun’s apartment, you found two neighbors in the hallway, talking to each other.
One of them was Mrs. Choi and the other person was the neighbor with the dog. They were trying hard to pretend that they hadn’t eavesdropped all the yelling coming out of room 803 earlier as opposed to the usual noise, and greeted you, but you just ignored them.
That night, you didn’t return to Jaehyun’s room.
____
When you had first voiced the desire to become a teacher, your priority was to support and foster children who really needed special attention. Those who got overlooked in school, who suffered from the intense pressure and who possessed talents that weren’t recognized.
You had landed the assistant teacher position in that prestigious private kindergarten, because you had been sent there from your former teacher’s program when the previous one needed to be admitted to the hospital due to severe burnout. She had never returned and you were able to stay as it was in the middle of the semester. It had been sheer luck.
As an assistant teacher, you were only doing that: assisting. None of the things that had driven you to study this major could have come to use yet, and you were tired. You wanted to become a real teacher, because you thought you could finally get the wheels rolling this way.
Jaehyun saw it in your eyes the moment you opened the door. “You’re going to Busan.”
You bit into your lower lip, nodding almost noticeably. “I’ll go to Busan.”
“Without me.” He smiled in defeat.
“Yes.”
“Is it so hard for you?” he asked. “To just let people you love into your life?”
“It’s not that I go because I don’t love you.”
He had you in his arms and inside his apartment before the first tear fell. “I know. I love you too.”
You squeezed your eyes shut as tears dropped onto his shirt and lifted your arms, holding meekly onto the fabric. “You’re just so young and you’re going to finish your studies soon. You shouldn’t go with me.”
Quietly, he whispered into your hair, “I know.”
If Jaehyun went with you, he would give up his dream of finally breaking free from his parents and seeing the world. You were not going to rob him of that. If you didn’t go, you would need to give up your own dream, and he wouldn’t want that either.
Perhaps, it was because you were older and more experienced than Jaehyun, but you had felt from the beginning that whatever you had started was going to find an end soon anyway. There was just no future for two people who were at such different stages in their life.
Sometimes in life, there were no winners in love.
You snuggled up to him more and sobbed, “I’m really grateful for what you have done for me. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to come so far.”
In the end, you had come to your senses. You were not going to throw his selfless acts away and accepted the gift he had been willing to give to you without anything in return. Just because he selflessly loved you. As simple as that. You were willing to pass this message on to everyone who needed it.
At his age, perhaps it was really this simple to love so fiercely and unconditionally. Later in life though, he would realize that it would take much, much more.
“Nonsense.” Jaehyun chuckled lightly. “You can achieve anything you want, you know that. You were just in the wrong environment. You can still-”
You shook your head and withdrew yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t change anything. You helped me achieve my goal and I’m not going to stand in the way of yours. You never dreamed of staying here after your graduation. If you do, even with all the love you hold for me now, you’re going to resent me one day, and I don’t want to take credit for that. Perhaps you don’t understand now, but you will in the future. You have to go.”
Mrs. Nam was wrong. You didn’t choose wealth and power over love. There was a third option. You chose your dream. And Jaehyun should do that too.
“When I’ve finished my travels and started with my business, can I come find you again?”
He wanted a sliver of hope, a silver lining. If it put him at ease, you would give him that, even if the chance was so less, you wouldn’t even dare to dream about it in secrecy.
“I’ll wait for you.”
With the kind of lifestyle Jaehyun had been living before you, you were sure that he would forget about this sliver of hope all too soon.
When he met girls in other countries, he would forget about his neighbor in room 804 at his former apartment complex who had always been so mean to him. Soon, you would only be a blurry picture in a string of memories, joining the ranks of his many, many lovers.
He would not suffer too long, if at all.
He would be fine, knowing that in the end, you still had picked them over him, just like he had initially predicted.
When Jaehyun kissed you goodbye, you were quite sure that this was the last time you would ever see him again despite living next door, which made getting over this breakup even more painful.
Back in your own room, you took off your fake engagement ring and put it into the far corner of a cramped drawer.
Whenever you went to bed the following days, you hoped that noises would start coming out of room 803 again.
You were scared that without the noises, he would hear you cry yourself to sleep every night until you nearly passed out from exhaustion and only woke up with a swollen face the next morning over the pain of your heart breaking apart.
But no noise could be heard ever again coming out of room 803.
And it broke you even more, knowing he was suffering as much as you.
____
Two months later, in late December, Jaehyun moved out.
You came home to movers carrying box after box out of his apartment. You had lingered a bit longer at your front door, heart pounding at your throat, just to get a glimpse of Jaehyun for one last time. But he had not been present that day. When you left your apartment a few hours later to grab dinner from the convenience store, his room was entirely empty.
According to the semester plan, he must have finished his last exams by now, so he was unofficially done with his bachelor studies. You doubted he would come back for a ceremony in February, so he was free to do whatever he wanted now. Perhaps, he was sitting on a plane to Italy or France at this very moment.
A few days later, an elderly woman moved into room 803.
And life went on.
____
One year later
“Teacher, what are you going to do during vacation?” one of your students, a four-year-old-boy, asked.
It was the day before winter break, but working for a public kindergarten meant you would at least get a week to yourself during New Year in January apart from desk warming the remaining break. A week in two months of winter break and thanks to public holidays only, but it was better than nothing at all.
“Perhaps,” you answered while putting one hand crafted paper star after another that the children had made for christmas on the classroom’s windows, “I’ll take a little trip.”
“To where?” another girl, one year older, chimed in. “I’m going to Busan to visit my grandmother!”
“I’m going to Busan too!” the boy then announced. “Teacher, have you ever been to Busan?”
You shook your head, reaching for another star he held out to you. “I’ve never come to visit there. Can you recommend it?”
“Yes!” Both children yelled excitedly.
“Then I’ll ask you where I should visit when I go there!”
They nodded in acknowledgement and returned back to their work which was crafting more stars so that the entire windows would be covered in them by the end of the day.
Twice a week, the kindergarteners were divided into different groups which either focused on art or music. The main subjects taught were reading, writing and maths. Apart from that, the children had enough free time to enjoy being real children, which they spent playing together, being outside and getting taught other necessary educational topics like brushing teeth and healthy nutrition in a playful way.
In comparison to Shi-A private kindergarten, where the teachers had paid homage to the parents with impressive courses including Chinese and English, topped with real diplomas and graduation ceremonies as well as teachers who had to work all throughout each break, this public school was where you felt you belonged.
This was where you finally felt you could actually support the children like you had always wanted, in an environment safer for them and their teachers.
And that was the very reason why you had never signed the contract for Shi-A elementary school in Busan in the first place.
In fact, you had never planned on doing so. How else would you have convinced Jaehyun to leave after everything? Just because you couldn’t live your dream didn’t mean he shouldn’t either.
You had never picked other people over him, you had always picked him.
Before you had gone to him to break up, you had thought about the upcoming decision for very long. You had loved those children, but eventually, they would move on and forget you. While you would have been stuck in a slave contract in a worse environment than before with parents from hell. All the money and other benefits could have never made up for the mental suffering.
It had always been your dream to work for a reputable private school, but one day, you had remembered the little girl inside of you who had not wanted reputation and recognition and was only there to help children.
So you had quit altogether.
And then you had eventually landed a job as a teacher at this public kindergarten where the salary was much lower and the commute took over an hour one way, but the work conditions were much better and the teachers and children just as lovely. The parents were not less strict, but tolerable and nobody tried to sabotage anyone.
Yet nowadays, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was still not everything to your life as a teacher. This could not be it, there had to be more you could move in this entire system. You just couldn’t point a finger as to what it could be as this was everything you had ever dreamed of having.
“What are you going to do during our time off?” you asked your assistant teacher.
“I’m going to meet my boyfriend’s family for the very first time, they’ve invited me to spend New Years with them,” she giggled shyly. “I’m so excited. And you?”
You smiled, happy for everyone who had plans except for you.
“Perhaps, I’m going on a little trip to Busan. I’ve never been there before.”
____
It was already late when you arrived at home, and as always during winter, it was dark outside now as well.
While you typed in the door code combination, you wondered which convenience store food you would get for dinner today as again, you were too exhausted to cook something yourself. A small vacation would surely help you relax and start into the new semester more fresh. Yes, you should definitely go to Busan.
You halted though when you opened your front door. Had you accidentally left the lights on?
You hurried through the narrow hall, at one point wondering if you had been robbed during your absence when a voice spoke up before you even reached the living room,
“I still remember your passcode from the day I climbed through your window.”
Jaehyun arose from your couch and your breath caught.
He was still as handsome as the last time you had seen each other over a year ago. Nicely dressed, hair still dark and neatly combed aside. He looked healthy and happy, and it made you happy too to see him like this.
At one point, you had dropped your bag on the floor while you could do nothing else but stare at him and stare, wondering if this was a dream. One of too many from the past year, of which you had never hoped could ever come true.
“What… are you doing here?” You didn’t know what else to say, you had so many questions.
“I’m living here now.” With a grin, he pointed at a suitcase in the corner of the living room. “Temporarily.”
“Well…” You cleared your throat and feigned braveness. “As far as I remember, your room is the one next to mine, room 803.”
“Yeah, but sadly that one is already occupied by a very nice, elderly lady who was quickly able to assure me that you were still living here.”
Before you could think twice, you had already closed the distance between you two, and he held you tightly in his arms, quietly, for a very long time.
“You liar,” Jaehyun eventually said, with no trace of reproach in his tone though, pressing you even closer to his chest. “You big, fat liar. When I called Shi-A elementary school in Busan. They told me they never heard of you, and when I called your former kindergarten, they said you quit a year ago.”
“I’ll take credit for being a liar this time as opposed to you.” You smiled through your tears when Jaehyun gently pushed you away from him and cupped your face. “I didn’t want you to stay here with me. I didn’t want you to give up on your dream just because I did.”
“Say no more. I understand." His expression was so gentle, his face free of any worry and doubt. “I was a regular student with no real perspective and just one dream. You just told me to do what a good teacher would have told all their students. This time, all the trickery rightfully belonged to you, but I would be really happy if we stop that now.”
You nodded, your tears salty against your lips, but Jaehyun kissed them all away from your cheeks. “I’m so glad you came back,” you sobbed.
“I told you I would.”
It had never been only a sliver a hope for him. It had always been a promise.
“But what if I wouldn’t have been here anymore?”
“Then I would have come to Busan or to wherever in the world to get you.”
You blinked through your blurry vision. “To get me where?”
One corner of Jaehyun’s lips tilted up when he let go of you. “Eventually, my parents came to their senses and didn’t abandon me like they always threatened. The longer I traveled and the more people I met, the more I realized that with my background and roots, I am able to achieve something, to change something, and far faster than anyone else. I am so privileged and took it for granted when I can twist it to an advantage instead of being a selfish brat. When I have the possibility and opportunity, I don’t want to throw it away. So halfway through my trip, I was just building connections for my future. I will join my parents’ business after all, but not to work for them, but for myself. I will build my own sister company.”
“Jaehyun, that’s amazing!” you congratulated him. “I’m happy you figured out your future path! I can assure you, you’re going to do such a great job.”
Sometimes, it just took someone a few months off to figure out where they belonged, what they wanted. If he had followed you, he might or might have not come to the same conclusion. You couldn’t figure out an answer. But what mattered was that he had one after all.
“So all throughout your Europe trip, it was not only drinking and girls?” you teased.
“Please.” He waved aside. “Everyone was annoyed by the fact that I kept talking about one woman only who I would return to eventually.”
You blushed. “Still, you told me you came to take me. To where, tell me?”
Jaehyun’s expression turned stern, but hopeful. “To the UK. That’s where I want to build my company, kind of like an overseas branch. I still can’t offer you much, but in a few years, I promise you, when my business is flourishing and we live in a nice townhouse in the center of London with a small garden and a dog and children, you won’t regret it. But…” He halted as though a sudden thought had crossed his mind. “But if you have already found someone who can offer just as much now or even better, then I understand if you decline.”
“How many?” you asked while losing a breath you had been holding in.
“What?”
“How many children?”
Perhaps, that was it, what you were missing. Perhaps, you weren’t supposed to work in this environment for the entirety of your life. Perhaps, just like Jaehyun, you were destined for so much more, for another path, and that path was perhaps not etched into the grounds of this country.
How were you supposed to find out if you didn’t try just like he had?
“T-two,” Jaehyun responded, unsure whether it was the right answer.
He could have said one or ten for all you cared. “Sounds good. I should then tell my fiancé our engagement is called off, because he wants three.”
“...what?”
You shook your head and laughed. “There is no fiancé, neither real or fake. There… hasn’t been anyone since you.”
“Good. It’s good to see you so happy and carefree finally.” Jaehyun approached you and put his hands on your waist, drawing you close to him. “And I’m relieved there is no other man. Because when I’m going to propose to you, it’s going to be for real this time.”
A smile radiating pure bliss left your lips when you got on your toes and finally kissed him.
You were blissfully unaware of the fact that Jaehyun had already picked out the ring before he had left the country, one identical to your fake one, just made of platinum and adorned with a real diamond. Princess cut, two carats. Just like you had dreamed of.
He had carried it with him whenever he went, like a lucky charm.
The ring was a reminder to him that there was always a reason to come back.
Because his future wife was waiting for him, and she deserved everything she had ever dreamed of.
brat tamer! cheol who doesn’t put up with your bullshit, but also has a soft spot for you and sometimes let’s things slide.
brat tamer! cheol who is definitely into spanking and will not stop until your ass is bright red and might make you count each one out loud.
brat tamer! cheol who depending on his mood might either make you call him daddy or sir.
brat tamer! cheol who enjoys humiliating you because he believes it’s an effective way to put you in your place.
brat tamer! cheol who is not above putting you in place in public or in front of his friends either.
brat tamer! cheol who’s into pussy slapping if he’s feeling particularly mean (might make you cum this way ngl.)
brat tamer! cheol who will fuck into your mouth rough and fast. isn’t satisfied unless there are tears running down your face and you’re gagging around his cock. he just might pinch your nose closed too.
brat tamer! cheol who will either have you face down, ass up or in a full nelson while fucking you.
brat tamer! cheol who will have you suck on his fingers to shut you up.
brat tamer! cheol who would tie you up with pretty ribbons and enjoys your whines and protests when you realize you can’t touch him. also will blindfold you !!
brat tamer! cheol who denies your orgasm multiples times and sometimes won’t let you cum at all just to teach you a lesson.
brat tamer! cheol who would make sure you know your safe word before initiating anything because he intends on being MEAN.
brat tamer! cheol who will make sure that by the time he’s done your mascara will be running, mind will be blank, and the only thing you would be able to think about is his cock.
brat tamer! cheol who is so mean he’ll have you on your knees crying about how you’ll be such a good girl for him. will 100% laugh in your face cause why couldn’t you just be good for him before ????
brat tamer! cheol who will make fun of you when you can’t form a proper word or thought because he’s turned you into such a babbling mess on his cock.
brat tamer! cheol who will make you beg for his forgiveness, even on your knees if that’s what it takes.
brat tamer! cheol who will use you to get off and then leave you high and dry cause “bad girls don’t deserve to cum.”
brat tamer! cheol who will fuck you so rough and hard that the bed almost breaks.
brat tamer! cheol who despite being mean :( will baby you and treat you like a princess after everything, but only if you promise to be good from now on.
Genre: Arranged marriage, slight enemies to lovers, fluff
Word count: 22.4k
Warnings: forced marriage, emotional abuse, stalking, jealousy, implied violence, insecurity, yeosang is THE husband, we all want him
AN: Ok so happy belated birthday to my boy yeosang. The most prettiest, angelic mf I've ever seen. Like how can a man be so pretty and handsome at the same damn time. Also this was kinda like a prompt but I can't for the love of god find the comment. But you know who you are, thank you
Masterlist
“I’m not doing it.”
The words left your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and fast, cutting across the heavy air in the room like a blade. The study smelled like old leather and wood polish, the same way it always did when your father called you in for his lectures. But this wasn’t a lecture. This was something else. He sat behind that heavy desk, wearing the same expression he always wore when he made decisions for other people’s lives— calm, practiced, untouchable.
“This isn’t a request,” he answered, barely sparing you a glance. “It’s a responsibility.”
You could’ve laughed. Honestly, you almost did. Responsibility. That word sounded hilarious coming out of his mouth. What did he know about responsibility? The only thing he was responsible for was dragging this family name around town like it was some royal crest, acting like being respected by neighbors counted for anything real in the world.
“You don’t get to sell me off like I’m a—”
“Enough.”
Just that one word. Quiet. Heavy. And somehow louder than your shouting could ever be. Your mother was standing near the window, arms folded like she was cold even though the room was warm. She didn’t speak. She never did, not in front of him. Just stood there looking outside, twisting her rings like she could disappear into the carpet if she tried hard enough. You hated that you weren’t even surprised.
“This marriage will benefit this family,” your father continued, smoothing his sleeves like this was some business meeting. “We’ve built this name for generations. And you will protect it.”
You clenched your fists tighter, nails biting into your palms. “Your reputation doesn’t mean anything outside this stupid town.”
It slipped before you could stop it, but you didn’t regret it. You meant it. All these formal dinners, these family events, these endless talks about legacy— all of it felt empty. Like a dying empire pretending it was still a kingdom.
“This family has survived longer than you’ve been alive,” your father shot back, finally meeting your gaze with steel in his eyes. “And you’ll do your part to make sure it stays that way.”
You could feel the walls closing in. You could feel your freedom shrinking, curling in on itself, suffocating before you could even scream.
“Kang Yeosang.”
The name hit you like a slap. Sharp. Direct. Cold. You knew that name. Everyone did. Not because he was some loud, reckless criminal—no, worse than that. He was dangerous in a way that didn’t make noise. Dangerous in the way silent oceans are. You don’t notice how deep they are until you’re already halfway sunk.
“Why him?” you asked, throat dry.
Your father barely blinked. “Because his family’s name will keep ours alive.”
Alive. Like this was survival. Like marrying you off to someone you didn’t even know was a favor. Like it was a gift. You hated how calm he was about it. You hated how your mother still hadn’t said a single word. You hated how small you felt in that moment, standing in a house you used to believe was home.
“I’m not going to his house,” you muttered finally, stubbornness flaring even when your heart was hammering in your chest. “You can make me marry him, but I’m not moving in with some— some stranger.”
For a second, you thought maybe—just maybe—that would get a reaction. That something in him would soften, crack, break.
It didn’t.
Instead, he stood. Calm. Slow. Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with careful precision, like he was bored of the conversation already. “You will,” he said softly. “You’ll go to his house, you’ll be his wife, and you’ll do what’s expected of you.” “And if I don’t?” you pushed, lifting your chin like you weren’t breaking inside.
His gaze sharpened just enough for the threat underneath to show, sharp and cold as glass. “Then I’ll handle it my way.”
You knew what his way meant. Not blood. Not mafia violence. But ruin. Reputation torn apart. Family turned against you. Friends pushed away. He knew how to break you the polite way, the respectable way. Quiet destruction in the form of shame.
You swallowed thick, hot air that didn’t want to go down.
“I hate you,” you breathed.
But your father was already walking away, steps quiet against the polished floor.
“I can live with that.”
Your throat burned with all the things you wanted to scream, but only one thing came out. “What about my studies?”
It sounded small. Weak. But it was the only lifeline you could grab onto in that moment. Something that was yours. The one thing you had left that wasn’t part of their family dinners, or reputation games, or polite handshakes pretending to be alliances.
University was supposed to be your escape. Not glamorous. Not perfect. But it was freedom in its own, small way—early mornings, long commutes, paper deadlines, friends who didn’t care about who your father was.
Your father barely reacted.
“You can continue after the wedding,” he answered flatly, as if you were asking if you could have dessert after dinner.
You stared at him. “After?”
“Yes. You’ll still attend.”
But you knew what that meant. You knew the weight behind those words. After the wedding. After moving into a stranger’s house. After taking his last name. After your life wasn’t yours anymore. Technically, sure—you could go back. Physically, you could sit in the same classrooms, scribble in the same notebooks. But it wouldn’t be the same. Not with whispers curling behind your back. Not with people watching you like you were an exhibit. “That’s her—the girl who married into them.”
It would hang on you like invisible chains. Dragging behind you everywhere you went.
And worst of all—you wouldn’t be able to come home. Not really. Not to this family. Not to your old life. You’d have a new last name, a new house, a new set of rules written by someone else’s hand.
The walls of the study felt like they were closing in.
“I don’t want this,” you said, quieter this time. No yelling. Just raw honesty, like a last ditch effort to claw your way out. “This isn’t my life.”
Your father looked at you the same way he looked at accounts on paper. Math. Numbers. Problems to solve, not feelings to fix.
“It is now.”
Simple. Unforgiving. Final.
You could almost feel the weight of your choices shrinking down to nothing. Every dream you used to picture folded neatly into a little box, pushed aside for family names and legacy dinners with strangers in pressed suits. Your stomach twisted. Hot. Cold. Rage and panic mixing together until you couldn’t tell which was worse.
You wanted to shout, wanted to break something, wanted to drag this perfect little empire down brick by brick just to prove you could—but you stood there frozen, fists clenched, staring at a man who would never, ever see you as anything but his tool first.
Come to the house.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Yeosang sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “Alright. Be there in twenty.”
It wasn’t unusual—getting called over like this. His father didn’t waste words, didn’t waste visits. If he was calling, it meant something needed handling.
By the time he got to the mansion, the gates were already open like they always were when they expected him. The house was quiet, the same way expensive places are—grand, but not loud about it. Just old money tastefully sitting in every piece of polished wood.
His father was already in the study when Yeosang stepped inside, standing by the window, one hand in his pocket like it was muscle memory by now. Glass of whiskey in the other. Of course.
“You’re early,” his father said without turning around.
“You said now.”
His father finally looked over, gave him that familiar once-over like he was assessing a report. “Fair enough.”
There was a beat of silence. Not tense. Just quiet.
Then—
“There’s going to be a wedding.”
Yeosang blinked once. “Yours?”
His father gave him a flat look, one eyebrow raising the way it always did when Yeosang was being difficult on purpose. “Yours.”
Yeosang huffed a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, stepping further into the room. “That supposed to be funny?”
His father didn’t smile. “I’m serious.”
Yeosang stood still for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Is that what you dragged me here for? Could’ve sent a text.”
“This isn’t a text conversation.”
“You’d be surprised what can be said over text these days.”
That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of his father’s mouth. Approval, maybe. Maybe not. Hard to tell with him.
“It’s arranged,” his father said, cutting through Yeosang’s deflection cleanly. “Her family’s name still matters in this town. Not rich, not influential in our way, but solid. Traditional. The kind of people who care about reputation more than their own comfort.”
Yeosang tilted his head slightly. “So… charity work?”
“Strategy,” his father corrected smoothly. “They need stability. We don’t need much from them, but it keeps everything clean.”
“Clean,” Yeosang repeated under his breath. He crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “And I’m guessing I don’t get a vote?”
“You get an understanding. That’s enough.”
Yeosang didn’t argue. Not because he agreed, but because he knew there was no point. This was how it worked. Give and take. Favors. Names. Quiet deals behind closed doors.
He exhaled through his nose. “Who is she?”
“Y/L/N’s daughter.”
Yeosang’s brow ticked. “Didn’t know they had one.”
“Not surprising. They keep her out of sight. Books, classes, family dinners. But they need her to secure their name before it fades.”
Yeosang thought about that for a second. Reputation marriages were common enough. Boring, mostly. People shaking hands over other people’s futures like it was stock trading.
“You’ve met her?” he asked.
“Briefly. Enough to know she’s going to fight it.”
“Great.”
His father glanced at him then, sharp. “Not your job to like it. Just your job to make it work.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Yeosang muttered, rolling his jaw. “I’m just saying… if she’s gonna be difficult, it’s gonna be annoying.”
His father’s gaze didn’t soften, but there was a certain understanding there. “You’ll handle it.”
Yeosang let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, pushing off the doorframe. “Guess I will.”
As he turned to leave, his father added quietly, “This isn’t punishment.”
“I know.”
And he did. This was just how things worked. Fair or not—his life wasn’t completely his own anymore. Yeosang sat behind the wheel, thumb tapping against the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway. Headlights cutting clean lines through the dark street, smooth turns, muscle memory driving him home while his mind drifted elsewhere.
Marriage. Arranged.
He scoffed quietly to himself, shaking his head once. What was he supposed to do with someone else’s family name attached to his life?
Some sheltered daughter of a traditional family, probably the kind who spent too much money on handbags and complained when the AC wasn’t cold enough. He could already hear the whining. Could already see the way she’d expect to live in his place, treat it like a hotel, float through his routine like an expensive perfume he didn’t ask to wear.
No, that wasn’t happening.
Maybe he’d buy her an apartment somewhere else. Nothing fancy, but decent enough. They could do the whole photo ops thing, wear the rings, play nice for the public, then go back to separate lives. Paper marriage. Clean. Or worse—she could be one of those girls who latched on for money. Gold digger. Probably already imagining his credit cards with her initials on the back.
He pressed his tongue to his cheek in irritation. God, he hated gold diggers.
Maybe she’d show up to the first meeting with some designer bag acting shy, but batting lashes like she knew exactly how to play the game. All wide eyes and fake humility. Great. Just what he needed—another headache in heels.
And the name—YN.
It felt familiar. Couldn’t place it, but the reputation was old enough to echo through town. Traditional. Reputed. The type of family that prided themselves on manners but ate each other alive behind closed doors.
The kind that smiled with their teeth.
He drummed his fingers once more, sharp taps on the leather, jaw set.
Alright.
If he was going to be stuck with this arrangement, he might as well know what he was dealing with. And he wasn’t about to walk into it blind. He had resources. Skills. Connections that didn’t come from LinkedIn profiles or polite family dinners. If they thought he was going to just sit back and play along without checking her first, they clearly didn’t know him well enough.
Fine. If she was going to be part of his life, even on paper, he’d find out exactly who she was—before she even stepped in the same room as him.
He flicked his blinker, turning toward his penthouse, already thinking about who to call first.
Let’s see what Miss YN was hiding.
By the time Yeosang finished, he knew more about her than her own family probably did.
University—small, local, nothing flashy. Biology major. Not exactly the typical rich family trophy daughter. No branded handbags, no influencer lifestyle. Her socials were barely active. Private, even. Most of her posts were old, nothing more than the occasional picture of a sunset or food she cooked. No thirst traps. No fake aesthetic feeds.
She liked drawing. Had an old art account that hadn’t been touched in months—messy sketches of flowers and animals, all pencil or black ink. Crochet too. Random photos of half-finished scarves stuffed in a drawer. Cooking—simple recipes, home stuff, not the kind of thing you post to show off, just to remember.
Her friends? A few from university. Small group chats. Normal conversations. Mostly about classes, complaining about assignments, nothing interesting. No clubbing pictures. No vacation shots with secret boyfriends tagged under fake accounts.
The further he dug, the more it annoyed him—not because he found anything bad, but because he didn’t. No scandals, no secret plans to social climb, no hidden motives that screamed gold digger or spoiled brat.
She was just… boring.
Boring in the way people are when they’re not trying to be noticed. And for some reason, that irritated him more than if she had been a problem.
Yeosang leaned back in his chair, tossing his phone on the table. Elbow propped on the armrest, hand running through his hair, frustration curling at the edges of his jaw.
Great. Now he was stuck marrying some quiet, awkward, crochet-making biology nerd who probably spent more time reading textbooks than thinking about designer clothes. Not exactly the chaos he was expecting.
But that was fine.
Boring or not, it didn’t change the situation. Didn’t change the fact that she probably didn’t want this marriage any more than he did. Didn’t change the fact that, like it or not, she was about to become his problem.
The small cafe tucked between two old bookstores smelled like cinnamon and burnt espresso, the kind of place you’d miss unless you were looking for it. Y/N liked it that way—quiet, steady, familiar. No loud music, no influencers with tripods. Just people who liked good coffee and minding their own business.
She stepped up to the counter, eyes scanning the pastries before glancing at the girl behind the register. “I love your hair,” she said softly, a small smile pulling at her lips. “That color looks really good on you.” The girl blinked, caught off guard, then smiled wide. “Oh! Thank you—I just dyed it last week.”
Y/N nodded, pleased. Compliments were easy. They made people softer. And the girl was pretty, her pastel blue curls tucked behind her ear like she wasn’t sure yet if she liked them. Little things like that made the world feel less sharp.
She ordered her coffee, tucked herself into the corner seat like she always did, pulling her notebook out of her bag. Pages filled with messy diagrams, doodles in the margins, recipes scrawled sideways between molecular structures.
What she didn’t notice—what no one noticed—was the man sitting at the table near the window, fingers idly circling the rim of his untouched cup, black baseball cap low over his brow.
Yeosang watched all of it with that same steady, unreadable expression he always wore when he was thinking too much. He wasn’t even sure why he was there. Habit, maybe. Curiosity. Boredom. The fact that the more he found out about her, the more it didn’t add up with what he expected. Normal girls didn’t compliment strangers just because. Normal girls—especially daughters of families clawing for reputation—were supposed to be fake polite. Smile, nod, move on. But she meant it. He could tell. You didn’t fake that kind of tone.
He watched the way she curled into herself, scribbling in that notebook like the rest of the world didn’t exist, lips pressed into a soft frown of concentration.
Just a quiet girl who looked like she was holding herself together with coffee and stubbornness.
Yeosang leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee, jaw ticking once. This was going to be annoying in a completely different way. Y/N didn’t notice him when she left.
He watched her go, watched the way she shrugged her bag higher onto her shoulder, thumb absentmindedly rubbing at a little ink stain on her wrist from writing earlier. She moved like someone used to being unnoticed, like she liked it that way. The door chimed behind her, soft and forgettable.
Yeosang waited a beat, then stood, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he stepped out onto the street. He wasn’t planning to follow her. Not really. That wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t the lurking type. But something about the whole thing felt unfinished—like he’d walked into a movie halfway through and now he needed to know how it ended, even if it was boring. Especially because it was boring.
She turned down one of the smaller streets, familiar paths clearly mapped in her head. She didn’t hesitate. Not once. Like she’d walked this way so many times her feet didn’t need permission anymore.
Normal. Predictable….Except for the part where, in a few weeks, her life wouldn’t be.
That was the thing gnawing at the edge of his mind. She didn’t know yet. Not fully. Probably knew about the arrangement, sure, but she didn’t know what marrying into his family meant. What marrying him meant. She looked like she still had hope things would be fine. Like she still thought she could negotiate her way out of it if she used the right tone with her father.
Cute.
He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t the type to tear down someone just because he could. But he wasn’t about to let someone walk into his life acting like it was optional.
This marriage was happening. She was going to be his. And the sooner she realized that, the easier it was going to be for both of them.
Yeosang sighed, pulling his cap lower as he turned the opposite direction, heading back toward his car. No point in being seen. Not yet. He’d play it properly, like he always did—let the introductions happen the way their fathers arranged, act like this was his first time seeing her. Civil. Normal.
For now, she could keep her quiet cafes and notebooks full of diagrams.
Soon enough, she’d be sitting across from him at a dinner table pretending she wasn’t thinking about escape routes.
And when that time came—
He’d enjoy watching the fight leave her eyes when she realized there weren’t any.
The dining room was too polished. Everything in it felt like it belonged in a magazine—heavy chairs, polished forks, crystal glasses that didn’t belong to people who used them often. It smelled faintly like expensive old wood and control.
Y/N sat straight, shoulders set, jaw locked like she’d been preparing for this her entire life. Polite daughter. Obedient. Chin slightly tilted up—not too much to look rude, just enough to show she wasn’t going to shatter on command.
Across the table, Yeosang sat with his elbow resting lazily on the armrest, fingers tapping slow against the tablecloth. His gaze was on her, not in the obvious way, not wide-eyed or curious—more like someone reading a file they already memorized but going over it again for fun.
“So,” his father started, formal tone sharp around the edges, “this is long overdue.”
Her father chuckled lightly, already halfway sunk into the leather chair like this was a golf meeting. “We’ve been meaning to sit down properly.”
Yeosang barely blinked. “Mm.”
Y/N didn’t look at him at first. Her eyes were trained on her plate, expression soft but unreadable, like she’d pulled politeness over herself like armor. When she finally did glance at him, it wasn’t shy—it was calculated. Brave. Probably spent the last week practicing it in the mirror.
Didn’t matter.
He knew everything already. Biology major. Draws on the side. Probably keeps her yarn stuffed in a drawer somewhere in that tiny bedroom of hers. Ordinary, and for some reason, that irritated him more than anything else could have.
Their parents carried the conversation like businessmen. Deals, family names, subtle remarks about strengthening ties. It wasn’t a dinner—it was a contract, disguised in roast chicken and overpriced wine.
Yeosang’s eyes didn’t leave her.
Y/N shifted her grip on the napkin under the table, folding it tighter in her palm. Eyes stayed low—not on purpose, not because she was scared—but because eye contact always felt like permission for people to ask more questions. And she wasn’t in the mood to explain herself to anyone at that table.
Yeosang sat across from her, speaking with her father like he wasn’t being sized up for marriage. Confident. Comfortable in a room full of expectations. His voice was steady, like someone used to being listened to, used to having the final word in a conversation. The kind of steady that didn’t need raising.
His father said something about ties between families. Her father hummed in agreement. Someone poured more wine. The edge of Yeosang’s gaze cut toward her briefly. He didn’t stare. Just checked. Like someone glancing at a watch to see how much longer they had to stay.
“So,” his voice finally reached her side of the table, low, smooth, without decoration, “biology.”
Her fork hovered, not quite raised, not quite lowered. “Yeah.”
He waited. No explanation followed. No polite rambling about how she got into it, what she wanted to do with it, how hard it was balancing studies with life. Just that quiet confirmation, like she wasn’t going to give him more than that unless dragged.
Something about that pulled a faint curve to the corner of his mouth—not a smile, not even close, just interest. Her fingers folded the napkin tighter.
“You gonna finish that?” he asked, eyes flicking to the untouched half of roasted potatoes on her plate.
Finally, her eyes met his. Not soft, not flirty—flat. Careful. “Do you want it?”
He shrugged once. “Didn’t think you were shy about eating.” “I’m not.”
He raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. “Good.”
Silence again, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just two people used to not needing to fill it. Her father started speaking about how she could continue studying after marriage, casual, like saying we’ll paint the guest room next week. She didn’t bother correcting him, though the heaviness in her chest said she wanted to. No way it would actually work that easily.
She didn’t say anything else for the rest of the meal. Yeosang didn’t, either.
He just watched her, like a lion watching something small—not because he wanted to pounce, but because he was curious if it was going to run. Neither of them moved first.
Yeosang watched the way her fingers kept folding the napkin tighter and tighter, like if she could just make it small enough, she could disappear into it. But her expression didn’t match the tension in her hands. She didn’t look flustered. Didn’t look desperate. Just… controlled. Like someone who’d been living with locked doors their whole life and knew better than to jiggle the handle too loud. Interesting.
“Do you usually not talk,” he murmured, cutting into the silence, “or is that just for me?”
The faintest breath of humor pulled at her nose before she could stop it. “Depends.”
“On?”
She let her gaze flick up—not to his eyes, just above them. “Whether or not the person across from me deserves it.” His tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and for a second, he almost laughed. Almost. This wasn’t what he expected. Spoiled daughters didn’t sit at tables folding napkins into perfect squares like they were holding knives in their laps.
And she didn’t look at him properly, not even once. Not because she was scared. Because she didn’t care. But she would.
Not in the way girls cared about him normally. Not wide-eyed or hopeful. No, she was going to care when she realized exactly how much of her life was about to be decided for her whether she folded napkins or full pages of essays. And the funny thing was—he didn’t want to break her. He just wanted to watch how long she could hold that line before she blinked first.
After the dinner dragged itself to its dull, polished conclusion, with the adults shaking hands over dessert like they’d just signed a treaty, Yeosang leaned back in his chair, elbow resting against the polished wood, fingertips brushing his jaw like he was thinking something over. And maybe he was. But the look in his eyes said this was calculated.
“So,” he said casually, but with the kind of weight that immediately drew the attention of both families, “how about next Thursday?”
The words dropped into the space between them with a deliberate softness, like a stone hitting still water. No one moved. His father raised a brow slightly, clearly pleased with the display of initiative. Her father smiled, the kind of smile fathers wear when they think their daughter’s life is finally falling in line. And Y/N—Y/N kept her fingers on the edge of her plate, eyes flickering up to Yeosang, finally, properly, but only for a second.
“Thursday?” she echoed, like she needed to make sure she heard him right, even though she absolutely had.
He nodded once, slow, composed. “Next week. You’ll be free, won’t you?”
It wasn’t a question. Not really. Not with the way every eye at that table turned toward her, expectant, waiting for her to be agreeable. Marriage was already settled like property; a casual dinner date wasn’t going to shake the foundation of that, but somehow, this felt worse.
Her jaw tensed before she could stop it, irritation curling hot under her ribs—not because she didn’t expect him to test her, but because he chose Thursday. Her only weekday off. Her only breathing space. Her only time where nobody expected her to be anything, say anything, do anything. She studied late on Thursdays, sometimes sat in the library doing nothing but scribbling messy notes on scrap paper that didn’t mean anything, just because she could. And now he was looking at her like he knew that. Like he’d planned that.
“I suppose,” she muttered, voice clipped, polite, lined with quiet annoyance that no one but him seemed sharp enough to hear. “Since you’ve already picked the day for me.”
Their fathers chuckled, pleased at the display of future marital bliss like they were in on some great joke. His father gave him that approving glance—the good, take responsibility look that was passed between powerful men in rooms like this. But Yeosang wasn’t watching anyone else. Just her. Measuring. Testing. Curious how far she could fold before snapping.
“You’ll like it,” he said simply. No tease. No apology. No smile.
She didn’t respond. Just folded the napkin in her lap one more time before setting it neatly on the table like she was handling something fragile. She didn’t look at him again, not because she was shy, but because she knew better. If she did, it’d feel like she was giving him something.
And right now, she wasn’t in the mood to give him anything. But she was curious now. Why Thursday?
Yeosang saw everything. He wasn’t sitting there with that calm posture and steady gaze for show—he was trained for this, raised on discipline sharper than any blade, molded under the expectation that one day he would carry the weight of something much heavier than family name. He was observant. Always. And while everyone at that table was busy patting each other’s backs over the success of an arranged marriage neither party asked for, Yeosang was watching her like a map he was learning by memory.
It was the way she folded the napkin—not once, not twice, but over and over. Each time, pressing it smaller, sharper, tucking corners like she wanted it neat but not too neat, controlled but never pristine. People who folded things that many times weren’t trying to fidget—they were trying to manage something they couldn’t put words to. He’d seen it in tense meetings, watched rival leaders smooth the edges of cufflinks or touch their watches repeatedly when they were hiding nerves or holding in words they couldn’t say aloud.
And she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
But that wasn’t the only thing. He caught the tiny shifts in her posture whenever her parents leaned too close, a subtle lean away—not disrespectful, not obvious, just barely enough to create distance like muscle memory. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t recoil. She managed it. As if that small separation was the only thing keeping her breathing steadily through this whole suffocating display of family pride.
Then there was her food. The careful way she pushed it around her plate, not because she was picky or entitled, but because eating under watchful eyes wasn’t the same as eating alone. Separating textures, shapes, colors, almost like categorizing parts of herself she wasn’t ready to share yet. It wasn’t disinterest—it was control. She was being studied, so she gave them nothing. Not even in the way she chewed.
Most people didn’t notice these things. Hell, most people didn’t even know they did them. But Yeosang saw it all like someone reading subtitles under a movie no one else could hear. And with every fold of that napkin, with every subtle lean of her shoulder, with every glance that never quite met anyone else’s fully, he knew one thing for certain—
She was no ordinary girl.
No spoiled daughter. No meek little thing waiting for a husband to save her from some sheltered life. There was something under that careful silence, something sharp, something waiting. Not the loud kind of defiance—but the quiet kind that made revolutions possible if left alone too long.
Yeosang didn’t know what that thing was yet. But he wanted to. Not to break her. Not to tame her. Not even to get under her skin. He just wanted to see what would happen if someone finally pressed back. And he was more than prepared to be that someone.
But he was no saint, either. Sure, Yeosang was observant. Sure, he was sharp, disciplined, raised on a steady diet of politics, violence, and strategy—but he was also his father’s son. And that bloodline came with one very particular curse: the chronic, unrelenting need to poke at things just to see what sound they made when they cracked. It wasn’t malicious. It wasn’t even personal. It was just in his bones.
And she—sitting there with her neat napkin folding and careful glances and that stubborn refusal to give him anything—was basically gift-wrapped for that exact kind of cruelty.
Admit it. He was intrigued by her, sure. But more than that, there was an itch under his skin when he looked at her, this annoying, bratty curiosity that made him want to press buttons just to see what she’d do. Not because he wanted to humiliate her. Not because he wanted to watch her fall apart. No, it was because she didn’t flinch. And that was interesting. Different. Everyone flinched eventually—but she just… adjusted.
And she looked cute annoyed.
Not the whiny, spoiled kind of cute. Not the bratty, helpless kind. The kind of cute that made him want to lean closer, just to see if her voice would crack the same way her napkin did under her fingers.
He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t even be here, technically, wasting brainpower on reading into a girl he was being forced to marry by family names he didn’t even particularly respect. But here he was, running mental diagnostics on someone’s napkin folding like it was part of a case file, and liking it more than he should.
And if he was going to be dragged into this circus of arranged happiness, he might as well have fun while he was at it.
Testing her? It wasn’t just strategy anymore. It was entertainment. Annoying her? That was just hereditary.
She really didn’t want to go.
Like—borderline, jump-off-the-balcony level of not wanting to go. Not because she thought it would fix anything, not because she was dramatic, but because the sheer dread of giving up the one day that belonged to her made her stomach twist. It was Thursday. Thursday was hers. Her one breath in a week full of held ones. Her one clean, unclaimed square of time where no one asked her to smile, or marry, or fold herself into something palatable.
But she didn’t jump, because that wasn’t how good girls act.
Her mother’s voice echoed in the bathroom as she brushed mascara through her lashes. ‘Be agreeable, Y/N. Don’t embarrass us. You’re not going to be one of those girls with tantrums and police reports. You’re better than that.’
Better. Whatever that meant.
So she got dressed. Pulled on clothes that said I didn’t try but I still look good because if she was going to be dragged into this, she was going to do it on her terms. She tied her shoes like she was tightening a tether around her own ankles. Did her makeup—not too much, not too little, just enough to look alive, to hide the exhaustion that simmered under polite nods and family dinners.
And when she finally looked at herself in the mirror, it wasn’t vanity staring back. It was survival. Thursday. Her Thursday. And now she was about to spend it across from him.
That annoying Yeosang with his sharp eyes and careful words, with his I’m watching you energy and the quiet smugness that didn’t need smiles or stupid flirting to make itself known. She could already hear his voice in her head, perfectly even, perfectly annoying.
And yet—she still tied her hair the way she liked it. Still put on her favorite necklace. Not for him. For herself. Because if she was going to war, she might as well wear armor.
She went down the stairs like muscle memory, footsteps light but steady, not really registering anything around her. Her parents said something—maybe a wish, maybe a warning, maybe one of those sugary “be good” reminders her mother loved so much. But it was all white noise, just the hum of life happening in the background of a mind that was already somewhere else entirely.
She didn’t ignore them on purpose. She was just zoned out. The kind of zoned out where you don’t even realize your keys are already in your hand, or that you locked the door behind you without thinking about it. Automatic. Like when you’re walking to class with music on and suddenly you’re already at the building, but you don’t remember crossing the street.
She didn’t remember leaving the front door. Didn’t remember if she’d even said goodbye, or if her mom had tried to fix the fold of her sleeve one last time like she always did. And she definitely didn’t see him until she stepped out onto the pavement and felt him.
There’s a specific kind of awareness that happens when someone’s eyes are already on you before you’ve noticed them. Like a silent tap on the shoulder. She glanced up—
—and there he was.
Leaning back comfortably in the driver’s seat of a sleek black car, windows down just enough to catch the breeze, one hand draped over the steering wheel like he had all the time in the world. Rap music playing in the background, not quiet but not obnoxiously loud. And that expression—not quite a smile, definitely not a grin, just that irritating curve of satisfaction people wore when they’d predicted something exactly right. Smug wasn’t even the word for it. It was too clean. Too Yeosang. Of course he was already here.
Of course he was watching her like he knew she wouldn’t have noticed him until now. She blinked once, slow, lips pressed in a thin line, and then kept walking. Didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t offer a greeting, just moved like she was late for something even though she wasn’t.
He leaned slightly forward as she approached, tapping his fingers once against the steering wheel, eyes glinting with that silent, irritating amusement.
You walked towards the car, your steps slower than usual, annoyance bubbling up at the sight of him sitting there, looking far too comfortable. You crossed your arms and leaned slightly against the door, giving him a flat look.
“I wasn’t aware you were picking me up,” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral. It came out a little sharper than intended, but you couldn't help it. This whole thing felt off, like you were being dragged into a game that you hadn’t agreed to play.
Yeosang just looked at you with that annoying, cocky expression, the one that always made your blood boil, and shrugged a shoulder. "Well, you should've been. It’s not like you had many options."
You felt a flicker of irritation, but it quickly settled into a calm mask. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. Moving towards the backdoor, you reached for the handle, ready to slide in and get this over with.
Before you could even touch it, the car locked with a loud click.
You froze.
What the hell?
You looked up at him, surprised. He just sat there, still with that casual air, his eyes gleaming as if he was waiting for a reaction.
“Excuse me?” you said, narrowing your eyes.
Without missing a beat, he simply pointed to the passenger seat with an almost lazy gesture. "Sit there."
You blinked at him. You were about to say something—probably something rude—but you stopped yourself. There was no way you were going to let him mess with you like this. Still, you didn’t argue. You didn't have the energy to fight him over something so trivial. The car door opened with a quick swipe, and you slid in, your gaze still sharp but subdued.
Yeosang didn’t speak again as you buckled your seatbelt, his attention shifting to the road as he put the car in drive. The silence between you felt heavy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to break it. It was better this way. Better not to engage, better to keep things surface-level.
The ride was awkward. Well, for you, at least. Yeosang didn’t seem to feel it. His posture was relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gear, like he was driving down to the beach with friends and not chauffeuring his future wife to some forced date neither of you wanted.
But you sat there, arms crossed, eyes out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek. And then it hit you. Wait. Is that Kendrick Lamar’s Reincarnated playing?
You blinked, eyes flickering toward the dashboard like you could confirm it with just a glance at the stereo. The beat was unmistakable, that heavy bass, sharp snare, and those layered vocals riding smooth over the instrumental. Of all the people to be playing Kendrick Lamar at full volume—it had to be him.
The irritation in your chest shifted slightly, replaced by something… warmer. Familiar. For a second—just a second—you forgot you were on your way to spend your Thursday afternoon with the most annoying man alive. You knew this song. Knew it.
Mentally, you started mouthing the lyrics in your head, matching every bar, every breath, every sharp flip of cadence like muscle memory. Word to word. Clean. Like second skin. It wasn’t loud in your expression, but your mind was in full concert mode, rapping like you’d been waiting for this exact song to save you from the awkwardness.
And for the first time since you sat in that car, you didn’t feel bored.
Without even realizing it, your fingers had started tapping against your thigh, following the beat with this natural kind of ease that only happens when something feels right. The awkwardness melted just slightly—not completely, but enough that you didn’t feel like throwing yourself out of the moving car anymore.
But then—
The song ended, and before you could even mourn the silence—another Kendrick song started playing. Different album. Same vibe. Same unmistakable energy. You frowned slightly, eyes flicking to the stereo now like it had betrayed you. Two Kendrick songs in a row? Coincidence?
You sat there for a second, staring ahead, lips pressing into a thin line as your brain worked overtime. Sure, it could’ve been a coincidence. Everyone liked Kendrick, right? But this felt… deliberate. Like someone had put it on a playlist. Was he doing it on purpose? Is he a fan too?
You glanced at him, cautious, like you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of catching you interested—but curiosity was starting to override irritation. He was just driving like usual, one hand lazily adjusting the volume like it was background noise to him. But something about how casual he looked felt rehearsed.
It didn’t sit right with you. Could’ve been random. Could’ve been a setup. Or… could’ve been both. But either way, you weren’t about to ask first. Nope. Not happening.
You just leaned back against the seat, eyes steady out the window, tapping your fingers again, this time not just because of the beat—but because you were thinking.
Yeosang was way too pleased with himself.
Not that he showed it outwardly—no smug grin, no teasing comments just yet—but inside? Yeah. He was damn near proud. Everything was going exactly how he wanted. Calculated. Controlled. Planned with the kind of precision that came from years of watching, learning, and frankly—being too damn good at reading people.
He knew everything he needed to know about you. Hell—he probably knew more about you than you did. He knew Thursday was your free day. Knew how you carved it out for yourself like it was holy ground. That’s exactly why he chose today to drag you out. Not because he wanted to ruin it. No—because it would be the one thing you couldn’t say no to. You’d either have to cancel your only peace of the week or face him—and he knew you’d pick facing him. Pride. Predictable.
He knew you didn’t like going out—not with family, not with friends, barely even by yourself. So, he came to you. Made it easy. Familiar car. Private. No excuses to back out last minute because “I didn’t feel like taking a cab” or “the bus was crowded”. Nah. He had you cornered, comfortably.
And the music? That wasn’t a coincidence, either. He’d seen the playlist. Hell, he’d memorized the damn playlist. Kendrick Lamar was your favorite in the rap genre, and it just so happened Kendrick was on his heavy rotation too, so it didn’t even feel forced. Just enough familiarity to make you settle in, just enough to make your fingers tap without realizing, to get you thinking maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
He didn’t need to ask you what you liked. He knew what you liked. Yeosang’s father didn’t raise fools—and Yeosang wasn’t about to start disappointing now.
He kept his eyes on the road, face clean of expression, like he didn’t know exactly what you were thinking. Like he hadn’t already played this scene out in his head a dozen times. You were stubborn, yeah—but he was patient. And precise.
He didn’t want to break you. Nah. That was boring. He wanted to watch. Watch how long you could act like you didn’t care. Watch how long you could pretend you weren’t curious. Watch how long it took before you realized—you weren’t the only one with sharp edges.
And yeah, he liked rap too. Lucky you.
The car rolled to a smooth stop, the hum of the engine cutting off and leaving behind the faint echo of Kendrick’s verse lingering in your head. You looked around, blinking slowly. Parking lot.
What kind of parking lot? You didn’t know. Big building, a few cars around, that slightly industrial vibe, but nothing familiar. You didn’t go out enough to tell which part of town this was, and frankly—you didn’t care. You just wanted to get this over with.
With a sigh, you reached for your seatbelt, pressing the button to unclip it…Nothing.
You pressed it again, harder this time, like maybe the extra force would convince it to listen to you. Nothing moved. “Oh, come on—” you muttered under your breath, tugging at the strap now with growing frustration. Typical. Typical. Of course this was happening. On today of all days. And the last thing you wanted to do—the very last—was ask him for help. But pride had limits, and you’d already used up most of yours agreeing to this disaster of a “date.”
You glanced at him reluctantly. “It’s stuck.”
He didn’t even pretend to be surprised. Didn’t flinch, didn’t chuckle—just leaned slightly toward you, unbothered, one hand moving with irritating ease to the buckle. The button clicked effortlessly under his fingers like it had just been waiting for him to do it.
“See?” he murmured, voice low, that smug little undertone threading beneath it. “I knew you’d need me eventually.”
Your jaw clenched, and you shot him a look that could’ve killed a weaker man on the spot. “It was broken.”
“Of course it was,” he replied, tone dripping with mock sympathy, before pushing his door open and stepping out like nothing just happened.
You sat there for a second, heat prickling at the back of your neck, wishing the ground would swallow you whole—but no such luck.
Fine. Whatever. You pushed your door open too, standing straight, brushing down your clothes like you hadn’t just been humiliated by a seatbelt. You wouldn’t let him have the last word. Not yet. Not ever.
You followed him, not knowing where you were going, but very aware of two things:
1. This was going to be a long day.
2. You hated how nice his stupid cologne smelled when he walked ahead of you.
But you had no intention of making this easy for him.
So, as soon as you both started walking, you slowed your pace—not obviously, not dramatically—just… enough. Enough to make it mildly irritating. Enough to make him notice. You weren’t even really doing it on purpose; he was just tall, and apparently, tall people had no concept of walking like normal humans. His strides were three of yours combined, and you refused—refused—to jog after him like some lost puppy.
If he wanted to drag you around, he was going to work for it. But the irritating thing? He didn’t say a word. Didn’t huff, didn’t throw a glance over his shoulder, didn’t tell you to hurry up like you half expected. He just walked, silent, hands in his pockets like this was the most casual thing in the world.
Until suddenly, about ten steps ahead, he stopped. Just stood there.
You narrowed your eyes, fully prepared for some passive-aggressive remark or maybe a sarcastic clap. You were ready for it. Bring it on. But instead—he just turned around and… held out his hand. You stared at it like it was something you didn’t understand.
The hell was that supposed to mean?
Your eyes flicked up to his face, searching for the usual sharp comment or hidden smirk—but nothing. He just stood there, hand out, expression unreadable but steady. “Grab on,” he said, like it was obvious. You blinked, caught between being offended and… genuinely confused. “What?”
“You’re slow,” he said simply, like he was pointing out the weather. “So grab on.”
You stared at his hand, then back at his face. “I’m not slow. You’re just fast.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said under his breath. “Now grab on before I make you.”
You didn’t move for a second. Pride screamed no, but practicality… well, it was tired of jogging every five steps to keep up. And something about the way he said it—firm, low, steady—not mocking, not playful, just… expecting—it made that prickling nervousness crawl up your spine again. You hated that tone.
But your hand moved anyway, slipping into his, your fingers curling awkwardly, like you didn’t know what to do with yourself. His grip was steady, firm—but not crushing. Not controlling. Just… leading.
Without another word, he started walking again, pulling you gently but efficiently alongside him, adjusting his pace—not entirely slowing down, but enough that you didn’t have to scramble. You hated how… easy it felt. Hated it more that your hand stayed there.
The deeper you both walked, the clearer it got—it wasn’t just some random building or a casual cafe. It was a restaurant. A fancy one.
Not just white tablecloth fancy, but crystal glasses, piano music playing softly in the background, waiters dressed better than your uncles at weddings kind of fancy. And honestly? It was too much.
Your dad never took you to places like this. Never. Said restaurants were a scam, said home food was better, cheaper, cleaner—but you knew better. You’d seen the unpaid bills, the receipts stuffed into drawers, the phone calls with that low, desperate tone he didn’t think you could hear. Gambling debt didn’t leave room for filet mignon or imported wine. You’d spent your life quietly excusing it, brushing it off, pretending you didn’t want this kind of thing anyway.
But standing here now, in this giant pristine place with soft golden lighting and tables spaced way too far apart, you felt like an imposter. Like you were wearing someone else’s shoes in a room you didn’t belong in. It was overwhelming. Too bright. Too clean. Too silent. Everyone here looked like they belonged. And you—you didn’t even know which fork to use first.
You hadn’t realized it at first, but your body did. Instinctively, without even thinking, you found yourself scooting closer to him. Not dramatically—not enough to look weird—but just enough that the space between you narrowed. Like proximity alone could make you smaller, safer, less obvious. The worst part?
It felt natural.
You hated that. Hated that the man you were mentally arguing with for the past hour was now also the one person here who felt vaguely familiar.
Yeosang noticed, of course he did. The tension of your shoulder brushing barely against his arm, the shift of your body tilting slightly toward his—he clocked it instantly. But he didn’t comment. Didn’t give you that teasing remark you were bracing for. Instead, his fingers adjusted slightly around yours, like he was anchoring you there. Silent. Steady. Just a solid presence beside all the marble floors and velvet chairs.
He didn’t say a word. But you felt it anyway. ‘I got you.’
Some guy—manager, waiter, whatever—showed up then, all polite smiles and expensive cologne, greeting Yeosang like they were long-lost friends or something. Said something about the table being ready, offered some words you didn’t really catch because your brain was too busy buzzing with nerves.
You weren’t listening. Didn’t want to. Everything felt too sharp around the edges. Before you could even process it properly, Yeosang had your hand again, guiding you forward with that same casual grip, not giving you the chance to hesitate. It wasn’t forceful, just… confident. Like he already knew you’d follow.
And you did.
He led you through rows of softly murmuring people until you reached a table—not entirely private, but tucked into a little alcove, partly hidden by frosted glass panels and low plants. Enough separation that you didn’t feel like fish in a tank, but not so hidden that it felt awkward. It was nice. Comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected.
Yeosang didn’t miss a beat. He stepped around you and—of course—pulled out the chair. You hesitated for half a second, eyes flickering up at him. No teasing expression. No sharp remark waiting. Just a simple gesture, like this was routine.
You sat down, the chair gliding smoothly beneath you, and he pushed it in with practiced ease. For a brief second, you hated how nice that felt. Not because of him. But because no one had done that before. Not dates, not family, not anyone.
You adjusted your sleeves awkwardly, trying not to fidget, while he walked around and took his own seat, leaning back with that effortless comfort like this was his living room and not a restaurant with menus you probably couldn’t even afford to read.
He picked up the menu with one hand, flipping through it casually like this wasn’t his first time here—which, judging by how the staff greeted him, you were sure it wasn’t. His eyes scanned the pages, sharp and focused, while the other hand rested lazily on the edge of the table. After a moment, he looked up, right at you. “What do you want?”
It shouldn’t have been a complicated question. Normal people would just… answer. Say pasta, steak, whatever. But for some reason, your throat tightened. It wasn’t nerves—not exactly. Just… indecision.
All your life, someone had chosen for you. Your mom, mostly. Always ordering for you at restaurants—never asking, just assuming. Always brushing off your opinions as “It’s not good for you,” or “You won’t like it.” Somewhere along the line, you stopped bothering to decide. It felt easier that way.
So you did the only thing that felt natural, default almost. “Whatever you’re having.” Yeosang paused.
His jaw ticked slightly, almost like he was holding back a sigh—but not in frustration. More like… patience. “That’s not how this works,” he said, voice lower, steady, like someone reasoning with a kid who was trying to eat candy for breakfast. “You don’t just copy.”
You shrugged, defensive, staring at the polished wood of the table. “I don’t know what’s good.”
“It’s not that deep,” he finished for you, lips twitching slightly—but not in mockery, just amusement. “It’s just food. Pick what you want.”
The thing was… no one had ever given you choices like that. Not explained them patiently. Not acted like your opinion actually mattered, even in something as small as dinner. It made your chest feel weirdly tight. Like you wanted to be mad, but couldn’t quite find the reason.
Yeosang didn’t press further. Just leaned back again, waving over the waiter with a lazy flick of his fingers, like this was the most normal thing in the world. But you sat there with the menu still open in your hands, staring at it…
That’s when it hit you—the slow, creeping embarrassment settling in the pit of your stomach.
You didn’t know how to read menus.
Not like literally not knowing how to read, but… you didn’t know how to understand them. Fancy restaurant menus weren’t in normal language—they were in that rich people language. Words like confit, beurre blanc, something-something reduction—you didn’t even know if you were ordering food or furniture. The more you stared at it, the worse it got. Everything blurred together until it just looked like noise on paper.
Your hand twitched slightly on the edge of the menu, the corners of it curling under your fingertips. You didn’t even know how to begin. Finally, you gave up. Quietly. Awkwardly. You placed the menu down and looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time all evening. Gone was the irritation, the stubborn defiance. Instead, it was something softer. Not defeated, but pleading.
“Can you just… choose?” you asked, voice low, almost hoping he wouldn’t make a scene about it.
For a second, he just stared at you. No teasing, no smug smile—just studying you. Calculating. Then, instead of making a big deal about it, he nodded once, sharp, like this was all perfectly normal. “Alright,” he murmured. “But you’re still gonna have choices.”
And then, like it was muscle memory, he listed things off. Simple. No complicated words, no long-winded chef specials.
“Do you want red sauce or white?”
“Chicken or beef?”
“Want dessert or not?”
Just basic questions, no extra fluff. Like someone breaking down rocket science to math tables. By the time he was done, it actually sounded like a meal, not a puzzle.
And without realizing it, you’d started folding the cloth napkin again. Neatly. Sharply. Fold, unfold, fold, unfold. It was muscle memory at this point—your fingers always needed something to do. Something to control, even when nothing else made sense.
Somewhere along the way, he’d passed you his napkin too. You didn’t even notice it. Just that at some point, your hands had another one to work with. Your mind didn’t register it; your body just accepted it, thankful for the extra fabric to keep you grounded.
It was quiet. Subtle. No words, no glances, no gestures. And while you kept folding and unfolding that napkin like your life depended on it, he just sat there across from you, arms resting lazily on the table, ordering both your meals in that steady voice like this wasn’t even a thing.
He didn’t act like he was helping. And you didn’t notice you were being helped.
While you were busy poking at the carefully cut chicken on your plate—eating but not really tasting—Yeosang sat across from you, trying not to lose his mind.
Cuteness aggression. That was the only way to describe it. Like he wanted to bite something or hit the table—not out of anger, but because you were just too much.
It wasn’t just the way you’d quietly surrendered, letting him order for you like it was nothing. It wasn’t just the way your fingers kept working that napkin like you didn’t even know you were doing it. It was the whole picture—the you of it all. Sitting there, looking like the softest thing in the sharpest world.
And that cardigan you were wearing? Please. He could tell by the stitching it was handmade. Probably by you. The unevenness of the cuffs, the slightly imperfect patterns—no brand could fake that kind of charm. You didn’t even know how much that cardigan was giving you away, how much of you was stitched into every row.
It made something in his chest tighten, like he wanted to tuck you somewhere safe. His pocket. A drawer. Somewhere you couldn’t get overwhelmed by menus and loud places and useless fathers.
But he still played it cool, leaning back a little, eyes glinting as he ran his thumb along the edge of his fork like he wasn’t thinking borderline insane things about a girl he just met. He glanced at the cardigan, then back at you, voice dropping casual but knowing.
“You make that?”
You blinked, pausing mid-bite. “What?”
“That cardigan,” he said, tone light, like they were talking about the weather. “You made it?”
You hesitated. Not because you were embarrassed—more because no one really noticed that kind of thing. Definitely not guys like him. But… you nodded. “Yeah.”
A lazy grin, sharp but not mocking, pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Figured. Looks like you.”
That sentence alone made your stomach flip in ways you didn’t have the energy to process. You didn’t even know what that meant. Looked like you? Quiet? Crocheted? Awkwardly stitched together? You didn’t ask. You just looked back down at your plate, busying yourself with another bite, folding that second napkin again like it was holding the fabric of your nerves together.
Meanwhile, Yeosang sat there, feeling way too satisfied with himself. You were dangerously cute. And he was dangerously aware of it.
He dropped you off, making sure you got to your front door before pulling away. You didn’t say much—a quiet “thanks,” barely audible—but you didn’t run away either. Progress.
But by the time he pulled into his father’s estate, parked the car, and stepped into the over-polished marble entrance, he was losing it. Hand over his mouth. Jaw tight. Muscles flexing like he was holding in a scream or something equally embarrassing. What the hell was that?
That wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be annoying. Spoiled. Bratty. Some daddy’s princess with acrylic nails and too much perfume. You were supposed to be the type he could dump in a nice apartment and visit once a month with gifts so you’d stay quiet about the whole arrangement.
But you weren’t. You were a mess. An organized, pretty, cardigan-wearing mess.
And worse, you didn’t even know you were cute. You weren’t even trying. You just sat there in that chair at that fancy-ass restaurant, folding napkins like they were some secret escape plan, wearing that handmade sweater like it wasn’t making him feel like an insane person.
And now? Forget that whole buying-another-place plan. That idea was dead the moment he saw how small you looked sitting across from him. No way. You were staying where he could see you. Reach you. Annoy you on purpose if he felt like it. Which he did.
He stood in the foyer of his father’s mansion, hand dragging down his face, pacing a little in his boots.
God. He felt like squealing. Like actually kicking something, or punching the air, or rolling on the expensive carpet like a twelve-year-old with a crush.
“This is insane,” he muttered to himself, like saying it out loud would make it make sense. It didn’t.
You were in his head. Neatly folded like that stupid napkin you kept twisting around your fingers. And for the first time in a long time, Kang Yeosang didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, scream, or marry you right now.
The moment Yeosang stepped further into the house, hand dragging down his face, muttering like a lunatic, he heard it—the unmistakable voice of his old man echoing from the sitting room. “Why the hell do you look like a teenage girl who just got her first crush?”
Yeosang didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even stop pacing. Just waved his hand dismissively, as if to say don’t start. His father stood there in his usual crisp shirt, whiskey glass in hand like always, giving him that unimpressed look fathers reserve for sons who don’t follow in their exact footsteps.
“I’m serious,” his father huffed, stepping forward. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you here anyway? Thought you liked hiding in that overpriced shoebox you call an apartment.”
Yeosang finally dropped his hand from his face, side-eyeing him, unimpressed. “Renovation,” he grumbled. “It’s getting fixed up. You want me to sleep on the street?” His father scoffed, taking a sip of his drink, shaking his head. “You could’ve stayed at one of the hotels we own.”
“Right. And let everyone think I’m homeless now. Good look for a mafia heir.” The older man narrowed his eyes, recognizing that tone. That annoying tone Yeosang always used when he was about to get smart-mouthed. “So why are you pacing around here like some lovesick idiot?”
Yeosang clicked his tongue, glaring at the floor like it personally offended him. “It’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You’re the one that set me up with her.”
His father’s brow lifted. “Did she bite?”
“She didn’t even blink.”
That made his father laugh. Really laugh. Like belly laugh, hand pressed to his chest, deep and loud in that expensive, echoey house.
“God,” Yeosang muttered under his breath. “You’re actually enjoying this.”
“Of course I am,” his father smirked. “Finally met someone who doesn’t fall apart under your pretty-boy nonsense. Good. You needed that.”
Yeosang rolled his jaw, annoyed beyond belief, but honestly? His dad wasn’t wrong. His father waved his glass toward him. “What’s the problem, then? I thought you were going to dump her in a penthouse and get on with life.”
“Yeah, that plan’s dead.”
“Why?”
Yeosang just stood there, defeated. “She’s too—”
“What? Petty? Weird? Mean?”
“…Soft.”
His father blinked, confused. “Soft?”
Yeosang didn’t elaborate. Didn’t have to. Soft in a way that made him want to ruin someone’s life if they made you cry. Soft in a way that made him want to drag you closer by the wrist when you got overwhelmed. Soft in a way that pissed him off because he liked it too much. His father just shook his head, amused, like he knew exactly what kind of hell Yeosang was walking into. “Good luck with that, Romeo.”
“Shut up.”
You did not expect this. A casual text? Fine. Him calling you just to “check in”? Annoying, but tolerable. Even him dragging you out on those stupid dates now and then—you could live with that. But this? Showing up to your university?
What the actual hell was wrong with him?
It wasn’t even subtle. Of course it wasn’t subtle. Not with that stupid black car of his parked right at the entrance, shining like a beacon of unwanted attention. Not with him leaning against the door like he was shooting a damn commercial, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses pushed into his hair, looking like every other man’s nightmare and every other woman’s distraction.
And people noticed. Oh, they noticed. Girls whispering, eyes widening, phones coming out to take sneaky pictures. A group of guys near the library basically breaking their necks trying to get a better look. And you?
You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. He had the audacity to wave at you. Like this was normal. Like this wasn’t blowing up the very careful life of low attention, quiet exits, don’t talk to me I’m just here to graduate you had built for yourself.
You speed-walked. Not even pretending anymore. Walked up to him so fast it looked like you were about to commit a crime. “What the hell are you doing?” you hissed under your breath, shoving at his shoulder, eyes darting around like you were being followed by paparazzi.
“Picking you up,” he said, casual as you liked, like this wasn’t the most embarrassing moment of your life unfolding in real time.
“Get in the car,” you snapped. “Now.”
And, the bastard, he laughed. Laughed like this was a game.
Still, he obeyed, sliding into the driver’s seat like he was doing you a favor. You yanked the passenger door open, practically diving inside, head ducked like you were avoiding a sniper.
The moment the door shut you rounded on him. “Are you insane?”
“I missed you,” he said, like that explained anything.
“You could’ve— texted me or something! I don’t need the whole uni thinking I’m with someone rich”
“You are with someone rich,” he corrected, one hand casually gripping the wheel, the other resting over the gear like this was a Sunday drive.
The car came to a stop in front of this sleek-looking storefront, all black glass and warm lighting, like one of those places you only see rich people walk into on TV shows. And because your life apparently wasn’t embarrassing enough, Yeosang parked like he owned the building.
You looked at the place, then at him. “What is this?”
“Jewelry,” he answered flatly, already stepping out of the car. Jewelry. Jewelry. As if that explained anything.
Before you could argue or even think, he came around, opened your door, and like a villain from a drama, dragged you inside by the wrist—not harsh, but determined. The cold from the street clung to your clothes, your boots crunching against the salted sidewalk, but the moment you stepped inside—it was warm. Not just warm, but that kind of luxury warm, where the air smells faintly of expensive perfume and everything feels soft, even though nothing should be.
And you? You immediately felt your whole body loosen, just a little. It wasn’t even intentional. The cold had been biting, sharp against your ears and the tip of your nose, and this? This was dangerous. Comforting. You could rot here, honestly. Just melt into one of the velvet chairs and stop existing.
Yeosang noticed.
Of course he noticed. He didn’t miss anything about you. The way your shoulders relaxed. The way you almost—almost—let your head drop forward like you could fall asleep standing there.
He wanted to bite you. No, seriously. Bite. His jaw clenched just thinking about it. You looked too cute. With your knitted cardigan, snow-dusted boots, fidgety fingers already tugging at the sleeves. It was criminal. Illegal. Someone should lock you up for being this dangerous in public.
But he was strong. Barely. Barely holding himself back from grabbing you by the face and just—squishing. Maybe even kissing that stupid annoyed expression off of you. Would’ve been worth it. You were too busy shaking the snow from your sleeves to notice him battling for his sanity two feet away.
An employee walked over, all smiles and professional greetings, asking what you both needed today. You blinked at her like a deer caught in headlights.
Yeosang spoke first. “Rings.”
You snapped your head to him. “What?”
“For the engagement,” he said calmly, like duh, obviously. Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “You dragged me here for that? You could’ve warned me—”
“And ruin the surprise of watching you panic in real-time? No thanks.” You glared daggers into his skull, wishing you could teleport out of your own skin. “You’re evil.”
“Mm,” he hummed, eyes lazily drifting over the display cases. “Yours?”
You blinked. “What?”
“Ring size.”
“I—I don’t know!”
His lips quirked—not a smirk, you banned those, but just that annoying, knowing twitch that told you he was enjoying this too much. “Figures. Guess we’ll find out together.” You honestly might combust right there on the jewelry shop floor.
Yeosang walked toward the counter with the same energy as someone about to close a business deal. Calm. Focused. Casual power.
You stayed frozen for a beat, still stunned at the whole situation, until your feet moved on their own. Before you realized it, you were right beside him, eyes locking onto the display.
And that’s when it hit you. The rings. They were gorgeous. Not just shiny-for-the-sake-of-shiny—but delicate, beautiful. Rings with elegant stones, simple but detailed bands, not the overdone flashy stuff but the kind that made you think: if I wore that, maybe I wouldn’t feel so small.
You leaned in without realizing, gaze scanning over each one like a kid at a candy store—but also a little sad. You never let yourself want things like that. What was the point? Your parents could never buy you things like this. You grew up being handed the practical, the necessary. Wanting was a waste of time.
But Yeosang saw it. All of it.
The way your fingers twitched at your sides like you wanted to reach out but didn’t. The slight glassiness in your stare—not tears, but that lost look people got when they wanted something badly but were too used to swallowing it down.
To him? Your eyes were sparkling. Bright, full of that light people only showed when they forgot to hide. He couldn’t stop looking at you. The whole room could’ve caught fire, and he wouldn’t have noticed.
He leaned closer, voice lower. “See something you like?”
You snapped out of it, blinking up at him like you’d just been caught stealing. “I—I was just looking,” you muttered, instantly defensive, shoving your hands into the sleeves of your cardigan. “Didn’t say I wanted anything.”
But Yeosang wasn’t even listening to the words coming out of your mouth. He was too busy cataloguing everything you didn’t say. The spark. The hesitation. The soft way your lip pressed against your teeth when you held back from speaking. You weren’t loud, weren’t clingy, weren’t bratty like he thought you might be—you were quiet. Observant. Someone who shrank herself just to survive.
Yeah, no. You weren’t leaving his sight ever again. “Good,” he said, nonchalantly signaling to the employee. “Because we’re not leaving until you try some on.” You shot him a glare. “What is this, Pretty Woman?” “More like Pretty Annoyed Fiancée.” His eyes flicked down to you, sharp and amused. “C’mon. Humor me.”
You stared at the rows and rows of rings like they were mocking you. Every shape, every color, every shine — how the hell were you supposed to pick one? Your fingers hovered over the glass, not touching, just hovering, like maybe the right one would start glowing or something. But nothing did.
It wasn’t that you didn’t like them. It was that you liked all of them, and also none of them, because your brain kept whispering, what if you pick the wrong one? What if you regret it? You didn’t get choices growing up, not real ones. Every decision was always someone else’s to make for you — your clothes, your food, even your damn hair. The few times you got to choose something, it was met with criticism or disappointment. No wonder your chest felt tight standing here.
“I can’t,” you muttered under your breath, frustrated. “They all look… I don’t know.” Yeosang watched, hands tucked in his pockets, silent. But not with judgment. More like studying. He could see it happening—the way you kept retreating into yourself, that familiar shrinking posture like you were bracing for someone to yell at you for being annoying or difficult.
He didn’t like that. Not one bit.
Without warning, he stepped closer, leaning down near your ear, voice lower, firmer. “We’re not doing that here.” You blinked up at him. “What—” “We’re not doing that thing where you act like you’re a burden for existing,” he continued, tone steady but not harsh. “You like something, you say it. You don’t like something, you say it. You don’t have to know what you want right now, but don’t stand here apologizing for breathing.”
Your throat went dry. No one’s ever talked to you like that before. Not mean. Not fake sweet. Just… steady. Like he meant it. Like he wasn’t going to move until you heard him. “I’m not apologizing,” you finally muttered, defensive. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re folding into yourself like someone’s about to slap your wrist.”
Your jaw tightened. “That’s just how I stand.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, not convinced for a second.
You wanted to shove him. You also wanted to crawl under the display case and disappear. But somewhere deep down, embarrassingly deep, you also wanted to grab his sleeve and lean into him like a tired stray cat. But instead, you just shoved your sleeves up higher and looked at the rings again. “Fine. I’ll try some.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, barely loud enough to catch, but you caught it. And you hated that you liked how it sounded.
You picked up one of the rings, delicate and shimmering with tiny embedded stones. It wasn’t flashy in the way rich people wear things—it was pretty. Simple. Something you could see yourself wearing every day.
But then it hit you like a slap. The price. What the hell were you doing? Just choosing whatever looked nice like you weren’t broke half your life? Like your mom didn’t yell at you for picking snacks that were ₹20 more expensive than the local brand?
You started searching the display, eyes darting, looking for price tags like a madwoman. But it was one of those places. No prices on anything. Which only meant one thing—if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.
Panic started tightening in your chest. You weren’t stupid. You knew this whole setup was expensive. Expensive coat racks, expensive chairs, expensive air. And here you were like some idiot playing dress-up, picking rings you couldn’t afford in three lifetimes. “Uh… what’s the price on these?” you asked quietly, almost hoping he didn’t hear you.
But of course he did.
Yeosang, standing beside you with his annoying posture of “I own everything I touch,” just glanced down at you, one brow raised. “Why?” You gave him a look. “What do you mean why? They’re probably… crazy expensive. I don’t wanna-” “You think I brought you here to worry about prices?” he interrupted, eyes sharp now.
You blinked. “Well, yeah? This isn’t a grocery store, I can’t just-” “Do I look like the kind of man who’s going to let you think about numbers right now?” His tone wasn’t harsh. But it wasn’t soft, either. It was just… Yeosang. Calm, slightly amused, slightly annoyed, fully in charge.
You hated how warm your ears felt.
“I don’t—”
“I said pick.”
His voice was low this time. Not rude. Not cold. Just that tone that slides down your spine and makes your stomach clench in the weirdest way. Firm. Dominant, even. But not because he was trying to be macho—it was just who he was. You stood there frozen for a second before whispering, “They don’t even have prices on them—”
“They don’t have prices,” he cut you off, leaning closer so only you could hear, “because the people who shop here don’t need to ask.”
You swore your knees nearly gave out.
“And right now,” he added, hand lightly brushing your lower back as if guiding you forward, “you’re with me. So that makes you one of those people. Pick.” You swallowed hard, looked down at the rings, then up at him.
His gaze didn’t waver. “Or,” he added, eyes glinting, “do you want me to choose for you again?”
God help you—you almost said yes.
The wedding was hectic.
Not in the “fun chaos” way you saw in movies—no, this was suffocating. Your cheeks hurt from fake smiling at people you didn’t even know. The scent of flowers was so strong it made you lightheaded. The jewelry was heavy, and the outfit? Beautiful, yeah, but you could barely breathe.
After the ceremony, when the music was loud and people were starting to eat, you sat in a corner. Just existing. You were chewing blandly on some sweet, not even tasting it. The small cushion under you was probably worth someone’s rent, but you sat like you were at some boring family reunion.
Yeosang did ask you last month if you wanted to invite your friends. You had been fixing your cardigan sleeve at the time and barely looked up. “Don’t really… have any.”
It wasn’t sad when you said it. Just a fact. You said it the way someone says, “Yeah, I don’t like tea,” or “I’ve never been to Goa.” Just plain. But you felt it sting more now, seeing his friends—8 of them—laughing on the other side of the venue like this was just some party.
Meanwhile, you sat with your cousin. The only one in your family who didn’t belittle you constantly or make subtle comments about you being “too old to be unmarried” or “too quiet for your own good.” He didn’t say much either. Probably didn’t even care. But you preferred that. Quiet company was better than company with sharp tongues.
Your eyes wandered across the room. Yeosang was standing with his friends, of course. One of them threw his arm around Yeosang’s shoulder, laughing about something. And then Yeosang glanced at you. It was brief—but he looked. And when his gaze met yours, it wasn’t pity, or amusement, or even awkwardness.
It was… knowing.
Like he knew you didn’t want to be there. Like he understood exactly what it felt like to be surrounded by noise and not feel like you belonged in it. And for a moment—just a second—you didn’t feel alone in that room. Of course, the moment passed when your cousin nudged you and asked if you were going to eat your chicken.
You gave it to him without a word, gaze still lingering on the man across the room who, apparently, now belonged to you.
The ride home was torture. Your jewelry felt like chains, the embroidery on your dress scratched at your skin with every small shift, and your hair—oh god, your scalp was screaming. You sat awkwardly, pressed up against the door, knees at an angle because the fabric wouldn’t let you sit properly.
And Yeosang? He just drove like it was a normal day. Relaxed hand on the steering wheel, other resting against his thigh, occasionally glancing your way. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he noticed you shifting every two minutes like you were sitting on needles.
By the time the car pulled up at the apartment complex, you were two seconds away from just tearing the sleeves off like some dramatic soap opera character.
It was late—too late for nosy neighbors or anyone else to be hanging around. The whole building was quiet except for the low hum of the elevators. You followed him silently, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. And when the elevator doors opened to his place—
Yeah. Pinterest board aesthetic.
It wasn’t over-the-top, but it was intentional. Clean lines, warm lighting—not those harsh white bulbs like your home had. The couch looked like it cost someone’s college tuition, blankets folded neatly on the armrest like it was straight out of a home decor photoshoot. Shelves with actual books. Art that wasn’t mass-produced prints. Little ceramic things on the side tables that you didn’t know the use of but looked expensive anyway.
It didn’t smell like dust or old carpet or fried onions like your house did after your mom cooked. It smelled like sandalwood and something slightly musky. Like him.
You just stood there by the entrance like a misplaced sticker on a clean page. He casually dropped his keys in a tray by the door and started undoing the buttons on his sleeves, rolling them up forearms first. “You wanna change?”
Did you wanna change? You were two seconds away from climbing out of your own skin. You nodded silently.
Without a word, he pointed to a hallway. “Third door. Closet’s in there. Pick whatever. Bathroom’s attached.” As if it was nothing to offer someone full access to his wardrobe. As if he hadn’t just brought his brand new wife into his home like someone bringing home takeout. You shuffled off like some fancy-dressed raccoon, already planning which oversized shirt you were gonna steal first.
You padded out of the bathroom, freshly freed from that suffocating dress, now wearing a soft oversized t-shirt that smelled like detergent and someone else’s cologne, paired with pajama pants that pooled a bit at your ankles. Your hair was a mess, makeup slightly smudged from your tired hands rubbing your face. But you couldn’t care less. Comfort first.
Yeosang was already lounging on the couch, changed into a black t-shirt that hugged his shoulders just right and grey sweatpants, one ankle lazily crossed over the other. Casual. Comfortable. Infuriatingly attractive. You stood there, awkward, arms crossed, twisting your fingers like you always did. “Where… where am I supposed to sleep?”
He didn’t even hesitate. Just pointed with two fingers toward the hallway. “Second room on the right.” You nodded and started walking, but something tugged at you. A gut feeling. Something wasn’t right. Second room…
Curiosity dragged you to peek, and when you opened the door, your stomach dropped. Black sheets. Black pillows. Black walls. Not pitch dark, but matte—sleek. Expensive. His room. You didn’t need to ask. That man screamed black-on-black energy. You stormed back into the living room, eyes narrowed. “That’s your room.”
He looked up from his phone slowly, mouth twitching—not into a smirk, just that faint amusement he always wore when he knew he was pushing your buttons. “Yeah. I know.” You stared at him, blinking. “Why did you point me there?” He set his phone down like this was about to be a full conversation. “We’re married now. Married people share a bed.”
You gawked at him. “That’s not a rule.”
“It is now.”
God, you hated that. That casual dominance. Not loud, not aggressive. Just matter of fact. Like he said it, so it’s law now.
“You’re annoying.”
“You married me.”
“We were arranged.”
“Same thing.”
You rolled your eyes so hard they almost got stuck, turning on your heel to storm back to the room. And yet… you didn’t really argue more, did you? Because deep down, under the irritation, you couldn’t help but feel that same stupid warmth creeping up your neck.
If he wanted to be cocky, fine. Two can play that game.
You marched back to his room like you owned the place, plopped yourself dead in the center of the king-sized bed, limbs spread like a starfish, sinking into the expensive sheets like you were born for this. If he wanted drama, you were going to give him cinema. Moments later, the door creaked open, and you heard his footsteps approaching. You didn’t look. You just knew from the way the air shifted, from the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint smell of fabric softener on the bedding.
Silence for a second. Then—“Really?”
You cracked an eye open. He was standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, the faintest curve on his lips—not quite a smile, not quite mockery. “You’re gonna starfish in my bed?”
You yawned, stretching even further like a cat on a sunny windowsill. “You said it was our bed,” you said pointedly, throwing his own words back at him with venom-laced sweetness. “I’m just following instructions.”
He looked at you for a beat longer. Then, very slowly, very annoyingly, grinned. “Fine,” he said, voice deep and lazy. “But if you stay like that, I’ll just sleep on top of you.” Your eyes snapped open fully, heart jolting so fast it almost echoed in your ears. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.”
It wasn’t even a threat—it was a promise. That calm tone, that glint in his eyes—he meant it.
You groaned and scrambled to your side of the bed, flustered beyond measure, hating him more with every second and somehow hating yourself for feeling heat crawling up your neck. “You’re insane,” you muttered, adjusting the pillow aggressively.
Behind you, you could practically hear his satisfied smirk, even though you weren’t going to turn around to give him the satisfaction of seeing your face.
“Married life, sweetheart,” he murmured, climbing in on his side, making the mattress dip. “Welcome to it.”
You didn’t know what devil possessed you to say it, but the words just slipped out, dripping with faux innocence as you looked straight at him.
“I have weird sleeping habits,” you murmured casually, adjusting the blanket like it was the most normal conversation. “Like… I’ll keep rubbing my leg on yours until you put your leg on top of mine.”
Silence.
You didn’t dare look at him yet, but you could feel the way his posture stiffened beside you, like your words short-circuited something in that annoyingly sharp brain of his. Then—softly, almost too casual—came his voice, deep and quiet, “Is that a threat or a promise?”
You slowly turned your head to him, blinking, pretending to be confused. “What do you mean?” His jaw tensed slightly, like he was holding back a laugh—or something else. “I mean—” he leaned in just a bit, enough for his voice to drop that octave lower that made your stupid heart stutter, “—if you keep talking like that, I’m gonna start wondering if you want me to put my leg over yours.”
You hated that heat crawling up your skin, hated that he was good at this stupid game, hated that he was better at it than you, hated that you wanted to keep going anyway.
So you did.
“Why would I want that?” you shot back, voice steady, gaze sharp but your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “It’s just a habit.”
“Right,” he said, laying his head on the pillow now, one arm tucked behind his head, looking absolutely unbothered. “Just a habit.”
You laid down too, facing the other way, stubborn. The tension between you two was thick, and you both knew it. Then, after a beat, you felt it—the slow weight of his leg draping lazily over yours. “I’m just helping with your habit,” he murmured, so close you felt the warmth of his breath by your ear.
“I’m serious,” you said, voice flat, not backing down. “It’s true. I can’t sleep unless someone’s leg is over mine. And I always hug something too. It’s like—comfort or whatever. Dunno. Been like that since forever.”
Honestly, you thought that would be the final straw. That he’d roll his eyes, scoff, maybe throw a pillow at you and head to the couch like any sane person would. Maybe you were hoping for that. Maybe you didn’t want to admit how weirdly safe this felt. Either way, you braced yourself for irritation, for that cocky remark, for something.
But nothing came.
Instead—you missed it—the way Yeosang stared at you like he was physically restraining himself. Like some internal monologue was yelling don’t say it, don’t call her cute, don’t ruin it, don’t scare her off. But how could he not? You? Looking like that? Saying stuff like that? In his bed? Wrapped in his blanket, in his shirt? Talking about hugging things like you weren’t already curled up like a goddamn kitten?
He was having a crisis.
“Okay,” he finally said, calm. Too calm. Suspiciously calm. You frowned, glancing back at him. “Okay?” “Yeah.” He adjusted slightly, the mattress dipping with his weight. “Leg’s already over yours. Go ahead. Hug something.”
You glared at him. “I don’t have anything to hug.” His lips quirked slightly at that. Barely. But you caught it.
“You’ve got two arms, don’t you?” You wanted to slap him. Genuinely. But also—not really.
Fine. FINE.
You stubbornly grabbed the pillow, hugging it tight to your chest and trying to sleep. Silent. Annoyed. Flustered. All of it. And Yeosang? He laid there, eyes on the ceiling, teeth sinking into his lip just to physically restrain himself from smiling like an idiot. If only you knew how close he was to dragging you into his chest just to see how flustered you’d get then.
Cute. Way too cute. He was so screwed.
You were out. Completely gone, knocked out like you hadn’t had proper sleep in weeks. Leg tucked neatly under his like you said you would, hugging his pillow like your life depended on it, your face mushed against the fabric, lips slightly parted in a soft pout you didn’t even know you had.
Yeosang was having a spiritual crisis. What was this? What was this feeling? Cuteness aggression? Probably. He felt like he could actually bite you. Not to hurt you—god no—but just to—argh—because how could one human look that cute doing absolutely nothing?
His jaw flexed, teeth grinding softly as he stared at you, eyes darting between the way your fingers curled into the pillow, to the little crease forming on your cheek from the way you were pressed against it.
It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t be allowed. He felt like punching the wall just to let some of the weird, frustrated fondness out of his system. The urge to squeeze you like some plush toy was nearly overwhelming.
And the worst part?
You didn’t even know.
Didn’t know the way you’d completely tangled yourself around his leg without a second thought. Didn’t know how absolutely tiny you looked curled up in his bed. Didn’t know how soft your breathing sounded in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
Yeosang stared at the ceiling for a good minute, breathing slow, eyes closed, fighting the very cellular urge in his bones to scoop you up and just—keep you. Like, forever. Pocket you. Protect you. Instead, he carefully shifted, tucking the blanket around you a little tighter, letting your leg stay right where it was. He glanced at you one last time before shutting his own eyes.
Completely, utterly ruined by the universe. Absolutely smitten. And you? You just drooled a little on his pillow.
Perfect.
Morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, soft and annoyingly gentle. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brightness—and then it hit you.
You were holding something warm. Something that breathed. It wasn’t a pillow. It was him.
Your heart stopped for a solid second. Somewhere between falling asleep and now, the pillow had betrayed you—replaced by Yeosang. Your arm was across his torso, fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt. Worse, one of your legs had completely decided that boundaries were optional and had hooked over his, practically hugging him like some oversized teddy bear.
What the actual—
You moved so carefully, like one wrong twitch would make the earth explode. Slowly untangling yourself, your breath hitched when you saw his hand resting lazily over your arm, like he’d pulled you closer in his sleep. That just made it worse.
Finally, finally, you untangled yourself, slipping out of bed like a secret agent on a stealth mission. The floor was cold beneath your feet, but your entire body was flushed with embarrassment anyway. Without sparing him another glance, you practically ran into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a soft click.
The second you were alone, you let out a silent scream, face buried in your hands. God. Why. Why you. You turned the shower on, letting the sound of running water drown out your embarrassment. Maybe you could drown in it too while you were at it.
Meanwhile, back in the bedroom, Yeosang cracked one eye open, staring at the ceiling with the smallest ghost of a grin.
“Thought so,” he whispered to himself. That damn pillow never stood a chance.
Yeosang lay there, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. His hand absentmindedly touched the part of his shirt where your hand had been curled into just moments ago. The warmth was gone, but the imprint of it — of you — stuck like some permanent tattoo on his chest.
What the hell was this feeling? No, seriously, what was this feeling?
He had always thought love was supposed to be a slow thing. Like aging whiskey. Like taking your sweet time to ruin someone in a chess game. But this? This felt like a truck hit him. A small, anxious kitten-shaped truck with pouty lips and messy hair in the morning.
It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. You were barely in his life for what? Few months? And yet here he was, already thinking like some washed-up romantic lead in a drama. It wasn’t even funny anymore.
He dragged a hand across his face and groaned softly, staring at the bathroom door where steam was now rolling from the gap under the frame. The thought of you in there — wearing that sleepy pout, probably muttering under your breath about your parents or about how annoying he was — it made his chest feel tight in the weirdest, most annoying way.
Was this how his dad felt about his mom? Cause that man always did dumb shit just to annoy her, but never went a day without holding her hand.
He was whipped. Fully, entirely, embarrassingly whipped. And he wasn’t even fighting it anymore. Hell, he was enjoying it. “I swear to god,” he muttered to himself, eyes shutting like he was trying to meditate through the emotional breakdown, “if she ever figures this out, I’m finished.” But knowing you? You wouldn’t. You were too busy folding napkins, avoiding eye contact, acting like you weren’t the most precious thing to ever annoy the hell out of him.
And god—he liked having a wife. A wife.
He let that word roll around in his head like a marble, both terrifying and oddly satisfying. If you stayed in that shower any longer, he might just combust. And honestly? He’d die smiling.
You came out of the bathroom with damp hair sticking slightly to the sides of your face, the oversized t-shirt hanging loose on your frame, sleeves falling a little off your shoulders, pajama pants riding up slightly at the ankles. You rubbed your hand against your face, trying to wipe off the last remnants of sleep, but honestly, your head was still foggy. You weren’t even fully functioning yet.
And there he was. Still in bed.
Liar. You could tell he wasn’t sleeping anymore. Before, he was on his back, legs spread out like some rich brat on vacation. Now? He was on his side, perfectly composed like he was acting asleep. And he was good at it. But not good enough for you.
With irritation bubbling up — mostly because you were up, and why should you be the only one awake suffering in awkward new-wife-land — you stomped over to the bed and stood over him with crossed arms. You stared at the messy strands of hair falling into his stupidly handsome face. His lashes were thick, unfairly so. And his lips slightly parted like he wasn’t living rent-free in your nerves already. He looked expensive even while pretending to be unconscious. Ugh.
Annoyed, you bent down and gave his shoulder a shove. “Wake up.”
No response. Another shove. Harder this time. “Wake up.” Finally, his eyes opened. Lazy, slow, like he was waking up from a peaceful dream of girls feeding him grapes or something. His voice was rough from sleep, deep in that way that made your brain short circuit for a second. “What?” he rasped, like you were disturbing his peace.
Your mouth opened, about to say something snarky, but then you paused. Why was he hot like this? Who gave him permission to be hot right after waking up? Hair a mess, voice low, sleep still hanging off his features like a silk sheet draped across expensive furniture. You forgot what you were gonna say for a second. Caught yourself blinking at him like an idiot.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. A smug little grin spread on his lips, lazy and cocky at the same time, like he was the main character in every stupid romance movie. You cleared your throat and stood up straight again, brushing invisible dust off your pants. “What… what do you want for breakfast?”
You hated how quiet you sounded. Like you were suddenly soft just because he was attractive. Which — you were soft, but he didn’t have to know that. He sat up properly now, running a hand through his hair like he was in a commercial. “You’re making breakfast?” he asked, raising a brow.
You shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? I’m awake.” He leaned back on his arms, eyes not leaving you for a second. “I didn’t marry a housewife, you know.” Your jaw clenched. “I’m not—” you stopped yourself. “I’m just making breakfast because I’m hungry.”
“Yours?” he said suddenly, tilting his head.
You blinked. “What?”
“Breakfast. Yours or mine?”
You frowned. “...What’s the difference?”
He grinned, teeth showing this time. “Yours is probably, like, toast or boiled eggs or something. Mine’s pancakes, bacon, syrup. Fancy shit.”
You deadpanned. “Who the hell eats pancakes on a weekday?”
“I do,” he answered smoothly, without missing a beat. “I’m rich, remember?”
You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your own brain. “Fine. Yours. Whatever. Pancakes.”
Yeosang stepped into the bathroom, the door creaking softly behind him as he entered the faint warmth she left behind. The mirror was still fogged at the corners, drops of condensation trailing down lazily like the room itself hadn’t quite woken up yet. The air smelled faintly of her—something floral, something sweet, and something unfamiliar but weirdly comforting.
He exhaled through his nose, steady and controlled, walking up to the sink. His eyes automatically landed on the toothbrush holder. His black toothbrush standing tall, firm, exactly where he always kept it.
And beside it… her pink one.
Smaller, softer looking, like it didn’t belong. But it did. It really did. He stared at them both for a second, lips slightly parted, eyebrows drawn faintly together—not confused, but thoughtful. Something about seeing them together in the same cup twisted something warm in his chest. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t fireworks or explosions or heartbeats racing so fast he couldn’t breathe. It was… steady. Fulfilling. Quiet in the most dangerous way.
He loved it.
Not the pink color or the softness of it. He loved what it meant. Her using his things like they were hers now. The shared space. The toothbrushes leaning like companions. It was stupid—something small, something everyday—but it was theirs. And for someone like him, someone who always knew how to calculate every move, who always knew how to observe and stay steps ahead, this feeling was something he couldn’t predict.
He picked up his own toothbrush, fingers brushing against the handle of hers. He stared at that pink brush for a second longer, a lazy grin curling on his lips before shaking his head at himself. Who the hell gets soft over a toothbrush?
Apparently, him.
He started brushing his teeth, leaning over the sink, letting the familiar minty sting wake him up properly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought—he could get used to this. He wanted to get used to this. Her hair clogging the drain, her random skincare bottles invading his shelves, her leaving the bathroom all steamy and warm like this every morning.
It was stupid. Domestic. And yet… it felt like power in the quietest, most dangerous form. And Yeosang was nothing if not addicted to power. Especially if it looked like her.
He came down wearing a black fitted turtleneck, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, paired with tailored dark slacks that hugged his waist just right. His silver watch gleamed faintly against his wrist, hair slightly messy from towel-drying but falling just perfectly like it was meant to. He didn’t put in effort—but somehow looked like he walked straight out of a photoshoot. Sharp jawline, long legs, expensive cologne that smelled like trouble and money.
And then—that smell hit him.
Pancakes. Sweet, buttery, thick in the air like a hug you didn’t know you needed. Warm vanilla mixed with something fruity. And then, there she was. (Do pancakes even have scents? Idk)
Hair tied up lazily, a few strands falling loose, wearing one of his black aprons that looked like it was made to fit her. Bare feet padding softly on the kitchen floor, navigating his sleek, modern, borderline cold kitchen like she’d been living there her whole life. She didn’t hesitate with the drawers, the utensils, even reaching up to grab plates from his overhead cabinets with a little difficulty like she knew where everything was. Like she belonged.
He leaned against the wall for a second, arms folded, watching her. His kitchen was matte black, sharp edges, minimalist design, way too clean for someone who actually lived here. It was the kind of kitchen that screamed money but not home. Until now.
Until her.
Now it felt warm, felt used. And for some reason, that domestic image made something stir in his chest. Not in a soft, sentimental way—no, Yeosang didn’t do sentimental. It was more like—possession. Admiration. Like—yeah, that’s mine. His quiet, irritating, soft-voiced girl, right there, using his kitchen like she owned it. And she didn’t even realize how good she looked like that. The apron tied at her waist, sleeves rolled up as she worked carefully over the stove, flipping pancakes with precision.
How the fuck did she even know where everything was? He barely cooked. Eating out was his thing. Restaurants. Friends. Loud tables. Fancy places. But this? This made him crave home-cooked meals in a way he didn’t know he could. Made him crave coming home to something like this. And the worst part? He didn’t know whether he wanted the pancakes more or her. Probably her.
Definitely her.
He didn’t even realize she’d caught him staring. Sharp reflexes, top of his class, trained to pick up on the tiniest shit—and yet here he was, caught like some lovesick loser at the doorway of his own damn kitchen. She didn’t make a big deal out of it though. Just glanced over her shoulder, flipping another pancake like it was routine. “Oh, you’re here. Sit down or something.”
He blinked for a second, caught between embarrassment and awe, and then muttered under his breath, “Yes, ma’am.” Low enough that she wouldn’t catch it. Good. His pride was intact. Barely.
When she finished, she casually served two plates—one in front of him, one in front of her. No big presentation, no waiting for him to start first like those rich girls he was used to. Just sat down, scooted her chair in, and started eating like it was another regular morning. Like they’d been doing this for years. God, why did that feel nice?
The pancakes were good. Like, scary good. Slightly crisp on the edges, soft in the middle, syrup on the side, not drowned in it like an amateur. She knew what she was doing. Each bite made him feel weirdly cared for, and he didn’t like that one bit. It felt… vulnerable. Exposed. He wasn’t used to this shit. Halfway through, she lifted her gaze to him. Not fully—just under her lashes, barely holding eye contact before glancing away again.
“I’ve been meaning to ask…” she said softly, cutting into her pancake with that annoying, neat little precision of hers. “What do you actually do? Like… all day?” He chewed slowly, buying time. No one ever asked him that. Not seriously. Everyone just knew who he was. Son of that family. Part of that business. It was understood. Expected. Even his friends didn’t bother asking.
But her? She didn’t care about any of that. She genuinely didn’t know—or maybe she did but wanted his version of it. Wanted to hear it from him, not just whispered behind closed doors or Googled with a headline next to his face. So, he swallowed, set his fork down carefully, leaned back slightly in the chair.
“What do I do?” he repeated, eyes glancing over her face like he was trying to decide how much of himself he wanted to give her. “I manage the boring rich guy stuff, apparently. Assets. Investments. Real estate. Help with family business bullshit.”
She hummed softly, almost dismissively. “Sounds annoying.” That caught him off guard. He huffed a laugh through his nose. “It is annoying.”
They sat in silence for a second, just the quiet sounds of cutlery scraping against plates.
Then she added, still not fully looking at him, “Sounds lonely too.”
That made something sharp twist in his chest. Annoyingly accurate. He stared at her, at the little crease between her brows as she focused on cutting another piece, at the way she subtly folded the napkin next to her hand without thinking about it. Always fidgeting, always folding.
She didn’t even mean it like that. It was supposed to be just a question. A throwaway thought while she was chewing, cutting another bite, syrup glistening against the fork like she was focused on literally anything else except him. Like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t going to completely rearrange the wires in his damn brain. “After I graduate… can I see your office or something?”
Just that. Simple. Plain. Like she was asking to borrow a pen.
But Yeosang? Yeosang heard that in HD. Dolby Atmos. Surround sound. Can I see your office echoed through his skull like she’d just proposed marriage again or something. Why was that affecting him so much? Why was his immediate internal response Yes. Yes, of course. Come sit on my lap in the stupid leather chair. Take over the entire desk, I don’t even like working, I’ll retire now, I’ll build you a whole new office, you can have my whole name—
He blinked. Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous. She didn’t even know what she’d done. But he couldn’t just say all that, obviously. He couldn’t wrap her up in a blanket and tell her she was the cutest thing alive for wanting to be in his space, in his world. He couldn’t tell her that no one—no one—had ever even bothered to ask about that part of his life. His office. His work. His real world outside of the titles and money.
So, he kept it cool. Cool and bored. Always the bored one. Mr. Nothing Affects Me.
“Sure,” he said, cutting another piece of pancake, stabbing it with his fork, stuffing it into his mouth like that would hide the feral urge he felt to grab her face and kiss the absolute life out of her. “Really?” she asked, finally glancing at him properly this time, eyes sharp and unreadable. “It’s not like a private office?”
Private office? Private office? Woman, you’re in my home. You cooked in my kitchen. You slept with your entire leg tangled around mine. And you’re asking about privacy?
He swallowed. “It’s my office. I decide what’s private.”
Another bite. Another casual shrug. Another act like he wasn’t two seconds from folding completely. Folding like the damn napkin she kept playing with next to her plate. “Sure,” he said again, this time softer. Almost like a promise. Almost like anything you ask me, ever—I’ll give it to you.
You both didn’t know one thing. You both were falling.
Maybe Yeosang knew it. Kinda. Somewhere in the background of his usually sharp, calculating mind — the same one trained to notice weaknesses in deals and flaws in contracts — there was this soft hum, like static turning into a love song. He knew something was happening. Maybe not fully, maybe not yet in words, but the pull toward you was starting to feel less like curiosity and more like instinct. Breathing. Natural. Familiar in a way nothing else had ever been.
But you? You didn’t know. You didn’t realize what was happening. You didn’t realise that while you sat here with syrup on your fork and pancake crumbs on your fingers, you were starting to heal something that he didn’t break.
Yeosang didn’t grow up with softness. His mother was the only person who offered that to him, that kind of gentle warmth that made a person feel safe, and when she left—so did that warmth. His father tried to raise him with ambition and success, not comfort. Not home. Yeosang had everything: wealth, education, sharp looks, friends who could buy out entire hotels on a dare—but not this. Not this thing he was starting to feel around you.
And you didn’t realize that you were going to get something you never thought possible, either. That here, you were healing too. Because all your life, you were raised in pieces. Your parents clipping parts of you before you could even grow. Told that your interests were silly. That your opinions didn’t matter because you were a girl. Always “too much” or “not enough.” They called it upbringing. Respect. But it wasn’t. It was shrinking. You adjusted. You bent around it like vines climbing a crumbling wall, finding space wherever you could, making a way even when there wasn’t one.
But here?
Here, no one was going to call you too much. Here, no one was going to shrink you down into something manageable. Here, no one was going to make you feel small for having hobbies or dreams or random thoughts that didn’t make sense. Here—you weren’t going to adjust anymore. You were going to thrive.
And you didn’t even know it yet.
Days blended into something that almost resembled normal life. Morning routines settled. Nights had their own rhythm. You handled your stuff—university lectures, deadlines, notes scribbled on the backs of receipts when you couldn’t find proper paper. He handled his—meetings, calls, those frustrating dinners where people tried to get on his good side for favors he never planned to give.
The two of you orbiting each other like satellites, not colliding, not quite distant either. Somewhere between strangers and something else you both refused to name yet.
But then there were nights like this.
Nights where assignments piled higher than your patience. Nights where caffeine felt like medicine, where eye bags were unavoidable, and sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with books spread around you felt like survival mode. The glow of your laptop screen threw harsh shadows across your face, highlighting the slight furrow between your brows, your bottom lip caught lightly between your teeth as you tried to figure out whatever academic nonsense your professor thought was appropriate for midnight.
Yeosang came home late that night. He had texted you. ‘Running late. Don’t wait up.’
He didn’t expect much. Maybe you’d already be in bed, curled up, hair a mess, hugging that ridiculous pillow you’d claimed as yours. Or maybe you’d be curled on the couch, knocked out with some random video playing softly in the background. But no.
He walked in, loosened his tie, and paused.
You were awake. Awake and working. Glasses slipping down your nose. Notebook covered in tiny handwriting, pages curling at the corners. For a split second, irritation sparked in him. Not at you—at himself. Why were you still up? He told you not to wait. And yet—
Then he saw it. The laptop open to some assignment, words scrolling by, academic jargon that even he didn’t have the mental energy to pretend to understand. You weren’t waiting for him. You were fighting a deadline.
Silently, he toed off his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, and went to the kitchen.
The machine hissed softly as the coffee brewed. The comforting, bitter scent filling the sharp black lines of his modern kitchen again. This time, coffee. Warm, grounding, familiar. He made it just the way you liked—two spoons of sugar, a splash of milk. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Balanced. Like you.
He poured one cup for you, one for himself, and padded back across the living room, setting the mug down next to your scattered pens and half-crumpled sticky notes.
You barely noticed at first, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you,” eyes still on the screen.
But Yeosang? He just stood there for a second, hand in his pocket, watching you. Watching how you stubbornly refused to give up, even with dark circles forming under your eyes, even with your knee bouncing from stress, even with your exhaustion creeping in like slow fog.
“Can I help?” His voice was soft, breaking through the quiet hum of the laptop fan and your messy thoughts. You blinked, finally tearing your eyes away from the screen to look at him properly.
Help? You weren’t used to that word being offered like that. Especially not for things like your work. No one really asked if they could help—you were always expected to figure it out yourself, get through it, push harder. Alone. You stared at him for a second, eyebrows furrowed slightly like you were trying to figure out if he was joking or being sarcastic. But he just sat there, leaning forward, coffee resting on his knee, expression neutral but serious. Waiting.
You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want help. Just… it felt weird. Someone wanting to take on something with you instead of at you or despite you. But you were tired. And behind all your stubbornness, you knew you could use it.
“…You can help with a couple things,” you murmured, barely above your breath.
His lips twitched slightly at that—almost a smile, almost—but he didn’t comment. Didn’t tease. Just sat up straighter, pushed his coffee aside, and motioned for you to show him.
It wasn’t even difficult stuff. Mostly organization. Proofreading. Finding references. And Yeosang, for all his cocky behavior and sharp-tongue antics, was ridiculously smart. He picked up on things quickly, helping you untangle confusing parts, correcting small mistakes you didn’t even notice you were making in your sleepy haze.
With him there, the work didn’t feel like a mountain anymore. It felt doable. Manageable. Like he was one more set of steady hands holding up the mess before it could collapse.
You didn’t talk much. Just handed things to him, pointed at the screen when you needed help cross-checking something, let him scroll through research tabs while you typed furiously to finish the parts only you could write. By the time you reached the end, you realized it had gone faster than you expected.
And… it didn’t feel heavy anymore.
As you saved the file and finally let yourself lean back against the cushions, stretching your aching fingers, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His sleeves were still rolled up, tie loose, hair falling slightly over his forehead. He looked relaxed. Like this wasn’t a burden. Like he didn’t mind being here at all.
“Thanks,” you said finally, voice quieter than before.
He just hummed, reaching for his now slightly-cold coffee again. “Told you,” he muttered, taking a sip, “I’m not just here to look pretty.”
You rolled your eyes at that, a small breath of laughter escaping despite yourself. And for the first time in a while, the stress didn’t feel suffocating. For the first time, you didn’t feel like you were carrying everything alone.
But now you didn’t want to move. Not even a little. Your body felt like it weighed triple, bones filled with sand, limbs heavy from the hours of grinding through assignments, deadlines, typing until your knuckles hurt. The soft hum of the laptop fan was starting to blend with the background noise of the apartment—the occasional creak of the walls, the soft ticking of the clock. So you just laid down right there on the couch, curling slightly onto your side, pressing your cheek into the cushions like they could swallow you whole.
“You shouldn’t sleep here,” his voice broke through gently. Not nagging. Not demanding. Just a low, careful suggestion. “It’s bad for your back.”
“Yeah…” you mumbled. You knew. Of course you knew. But knowing and moving were two different things. The soft, tired sound of your own voice felt distant to you, like it was coming from somewhere underwater. “M’fine… Just…gimme a minute…”
And then, you felt it. Arms sliding under you, one beneath your knees, the other curling easily around your shoulders. The couch shifted beneath you as he moved, and suddenly, you were moving too. Your eyes snapped open halfway, heavy-lidded with exhaustion but sharp with shock. What the—
He picked you up. Like it was nothing. Like you weighed absolutely nothing. Effortless. Smooth. As if this was something he did on a daily basis, as if you weren’t dead weight with tangled limbs and messy hair and exhaustion practically dripping off your skin.
You knew he worked out. You’d seen his arms, the way his shirts sometimes hugged his shoulders, the way his forearms tensed slightly when he rolled up his sleeves or carried grocery bags with one hand like they were weightless.
But this? This was a whole new experience.
You blinked up at him, groggy but vaguely scandalized, too drained to fight him on it but still indignant enough to grumble, “I can walk, you know…”
“Doesn’t look like it,” he muttered back, voice lazy but steady, gaze fixed ahead as he carefully maneuvered you toward the bedroom. His jaw was set, clean lines of his face shadowed by the low lighting, and that stupid, faint grin on his lips—like he was enjoying this a little too much.
You were too tired to argue more, head lolling lightly against his shoulder, his cologne filling your nose. Clean, sharp, warm.
“Put me down,” you murmured weakly, only half meaning it.
“No.”
That’s all he said. Just no. Simple. Firm. No teasing this time. Just—no. Because you were tired, and because he wanted to carry you. Because whether you liked it or not, this was part of who he was now—your husband. And part of that role, apparently, included picking you up like a princess when you worked yourself to exhaustion doing university assignments at midnight.
You didn’t realize when your eyes slipped closed again, but the warmth of his hold and the soft shift of the apartment around you made it easier.
He set you down gently on the bed, the mattress dipping softly under your weight. The second you hit the covers, your whole body sighed in relief, muscles unraveling like thread, tension slipping out of your shoulders as your eyelids fluttered heavily.
You barely registered him leaving, the soft rustle of fabric as he changed, the faint clink of his watch being set down somewhere on the nightstand. The apartment was quiet except for those soft, everyday sounds—the kind that made a space feel lived in. Real. And then the bed dipped again, the warmth of him close, his scent following like gravity itself. Before you could fully register it, his arm snaked around your waist, firm but not rough, and he pulled you in.
Your eyes opened halfway, brows pinching lightly. “Yeosang…”
“No complaining,” he murmured, voice low, brushing near your ear. “I know you need it.”
That shut you up real quick—not because he was being cocky, but because… he was right. You did need it. And that annoyed you more than anything, how well he was starting to read you without effort. Like this connection was some secret language only he could pick up on while you were still figuring it out. You wanted to argue. Maybe just out of habit. Maybe because that independent part of you hated the idea of needing someone this badly. But… God, it felt good. It felt safe. Not like being trapped, not like obligation—but like comfort. Like warmth. Like someone saying, It’s okay. You don’t have to hold everything up alone tonight.
So you didn’t say anything after that. Just let yourself sink into the pull of his chest against your back, his hand splayed warm over your stomach, his steady breathing brushing against the back of your neck. Everything fit a little too perfectly, like puzzle pieces you didn’t even know belonged to the same set.
And that night… that night, you both slept better than you ever had since this whole marriage thing started. No weird dreams. No uncomfortable tossing and turning. No stress lingering sharp at the edges of your thoughts.
Just… sleep.
You didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, somewhere in the middle of the night, your body betrayed your stubbornness. You woke up curled against him, face pressed gently to his chest, his scent filling your lungs like something you’d been secretly addicted to. His arm—God, his arm—was draped around you, hand cupped protectively over the back of your head like instinct. Like he was shielding you, even in sleep. And it wasn’t awkward. That’s what surprised you most. It felt natural. Not forced, not weird, just… like safety.
You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek, hear the soft, even rhythm of his breathing. And as much as you hated to admit it… he looked pretty like this. No, scratch that—annoyingly pretty. Long lashes resting against sharp cheekbones, lips slightly parted, hair tousled from sleep in that effortless way guys pull off without even trying.
Gross. Beautiful. Disgusting. Infuriating.
You blinked a few times, brain slowly booting up for the day, before carefully untangling yourself like a thief in the night. His arm loosened its grip like he was reluctant even in his sleep, but eventually let you go. You got up, showered, got dressed, doing your whole morning routine as quietly as possible. University wasn’t going to wait for you to bask in your soft domestic crisis. And you definitely weren’t about to stand there and gawk at his stupidly handsome sleeping face for too long. Absolutely not.
By the time you were adjusting the strap of your bag, tying your hair properly, you heard movement from the bedroom. A few minutes later, Yeosang walked out, freshly showered, damp hair pushed back, wearing that clean, crisp button-up with the sleeves rolled just enough to make you want to scream into a pillow. Grey slacks, black watch, rings back on his fingers, that usual lazy confidence laced into his posture.
He looked at you, eyes dropping down briefly to your outfit, then meeting your gaze again like it was nothing.
“I’ll pick you up later,” he said, fixing one of his cuffs. “After uni.”
You blinked. “Why?”
“Date,” he said simply, like it was obvious. “We deserve one.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure of what reaction you were supposed to give. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, say something sarcastic—but another part… another part felt weirdly happy about it. Happy in that annoying, fluttery kind of way you weren’t ready to admit yet. So you settled for a quiet, “Okay,” adjusting your bag again, looking at the floor to hide the small smile trying to creep up on your lips.
“Good,” he said, smirking now—but this time it wasn’t cocky. It was something softer, warmer. “I’ll see you later, then.” And as you left the apartment, the weight of the day felt lighter somehow. Like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t dreading things as much anymore.
Yeosang sat in the car, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel, the other tapping faintly against his thigh. The sun was starting to dip, casting that golden hour glow over the edges of buildings, making everything look softer, warmer, like a scene out of some movie. But Yeosang wasn’t paying attention to the scenery. Not really.He’d had a day. Meetings that dragged. Calls that felt like someone was reading tax documents aloud just to torture him. Endless signatures, fake smiles, the whole act. All he wanted right now was peace. Quiet. A good meal. And you.
A proper date with his cute wife, nothing more, nothing less. Just you sitting across from him in that way you always did—half avoiding eye contact, sleeves of your cardigan slipping past your wrists, probably fidgeting with your napkin again. That was the peace he wanted. Not luxury. Not power. Just that.
But then…
His eyes narrowed. He saw you. And you weren’t alone. There was a guy. Some nobody. Same-age, maybe older, walking beside you, too close for Yeosang’s liking, talking like he knew you well. And you—God—you were smiling. Not the full kind, not the ones Yeosang secretly hoarded like precious stones, but still smiling. Like you were comfortable. Yeosang’s jaw tightened. His fingers, the ones tapping against his thigh, stopped moving. What pissed him off wasn’t just the guy talking. It was the way he was talking to you. That casual, easygoing posture, like he thought he was funny. Like he thought he was charming. Like he thought he deserved to be walking next to you, making you smile like that.
And maybe you didn’t even realize. Maybe you were just being polite. But Yeosang saw it all. The way the guy leaned slightly in when he spoke. The way his hands moved while explaining something, animated like he wanted your full attention on him.
Yeosang didn’t like it. Not one bit.
The expensive black car, polished to perfection, stood out like a punch to the face in front of the university gates. People kept throwing glances, some doing double-takes, whispering. Whose car is that? Who’s that guy? But Yeosang didn’t care. Let them look. Let them talk. His gaze stayed locked on you and that idiot next to you. Calm on the outside. A storm brewing underneath. You didn’t know it yet.
You spotted him the moment he stepped out of the car. Yeosang wasn’t the type to make a show of himself, but somehow—he did. Maybe it was the way he stood, sharp lines of his suit catching the light, hair pushed back neatly, expression unreadable. Maybe it was the car behind him, polished black, practically humming money and influence. Maybe it was just him. Either way, heads were turning, eyes flicking between him and you like something wasn’t adding up.
You swallowed, nerves prickling up your spine. Before you could react, before you could even introduce anyone properly, he was already moving. His hand found yours—firm, warm, possessive without being rough. It startled you. Not because of the touch—you were used to that by now—but because of the timing. Calculated. Precise. Like everything he did. “This your friend?” he said calmly, looking not at you, but directly at the guy.
Before you could speak, Yeosang gave the poor guy a small, polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly, tightening his grip on your hand just slightly. “I’m her husband.”
And then, for good measure, he added his name. Kang Yeosang.
You could see the shift instantly. The recognition behind the guy’s eyes. The flicker of panic mixed with surprise. Everyone in this city knew that name—or at least the ones who mattered did. Not just because of the wealth, but because of what that name meant in certain circles. Reputation. Power. Authority. Not just a businessman—something more. Something sharp underneath the polished surface.
“Oh,” was all the guy could manage, awkward, unsure of where to put his hands now, stepping back half a pace instinctively. “Yeah,” Yeosang finished softly, expression pleasant, dangerous in its restraint. “Good talk.”
Without another word, he guided you toward the passenger seat, opened the door like a gentleman, helped you in, and shut it carefully behind you before rounding the car and getting in himself. He didn’t look at you at first. Just started the engine, pulled out of the lot with practiced ease.
What you didn’t see, however, was the slight tilt of his head down as he flicked open his messages. His fingers moved swiftly, effortlessly, typing out the guy’s name, sending it to an unknown number. No emojis. No fluff. Just a clean instruction.
A name and a dot. That’s all it took.
Then the phone slipped back into his pocket like nothing happened.
He glanced at you finally, features softening just slightly now that the irritation had passed, hand casually resting on the gear shift..
"You ready?” he asked, like none of that had just happened. You didn’t answer immediately. Your heart was still somewhere between confused, flustered, and maybe—a little impressed. And Yeosang?
He was perfectly at ease. Because no one touches what’s his.
The date itself was simple, nothing extravagant—just the way you liked it. Dinner somewhere not too loud, warm lighting, food you could pronounce, chairs that didn’t make your back ache. He didn’t drag you to some elite chef’s private villa or a high-rise with twelve spoons and seven forks. Just… normal. Comfortable.
But of course, it wasn’t normal, not with him sitting across from you like that. Rolling up his sleeves just enough to show off the veins in his forearms, leaning forward slightly when you spoke, giving you that attention that made your stomach twist in a way you’d pretend was annoyance—but you knew better now. You were far too aware of his every move, his subtle glances at your lips when you talked, his faint smile whenever you fidgeted with the sleeves of your cardigan or neatly arranged your utensils.
And he was losing it.
Internally.
Watching you talk softly about nothing—ordering dessert, choosing between tea or coffee, or even just adjusting your bracelet—like it was the most adorable thing in the world. You didn’t even have to try. That’s what drove him crazy. You could breathe and he’d be on the verge of melting into his seat like some fool.
But what really started creeping under your skin wasn’t the food or the conversation or even the comfort of the evening.
It was after.
Back in university, you started noticing something odd. The guy—the one from the parking lot—gone. No hellos in the hallway, no passing glances, no awkward waves after that weird encounter with Yeosang. Vanished. Just… gone.
You weren’t naïve. You noticed patterns. You noticed behavior. You might’ve been quiet, but you weren’t stupid.
So, you asked him. One evening, after he’d made both of you coffee, when the room was quiet and warm, you just casually dropped it like spare change on a counter.
“By the way… that guy I was talking to last week? Haven’t seen him around.”
His reaction was instant, which already gave him away. That sharp, barely-there twitch of his lips. His fingers curling ever so slightly around the mug handle.
And then—he laughed.
That annoying, deep, pretty laugh that was all throat and no apologies.
“Don’t know,” he said with a shrug, voice lazy, too smooth to be true. “Weird, isn’t it?”
Liar. Absolute liar.
And that’s what did it. That’s what made you fall.
Not the expensive car. Not the handsome face. Not even the whole husband thing.
It was that. That dumb, cocky, lying laugh paired with the soft way he helped you out of your coat or refilled your water glass without saying anything. The combination of someone who could ruin a man’s whole life in one text but still remember that you liked your toast slightly burnt.
It wasn’t fair.
And maybe, just maybe, you found yourself falling.
genres and warnings: slowburn, angst, fluff, eventual smut (mdni!) poly!ateez, smoking, drinking, gambling, illegal businesses, politics, violence, heavy themes, mild gore, multiple pairings, more specific warnings in the chapters
estimated word count: approx 200k
synopsis: in eden 1970, you join the inner circle of the crescent company by sharing information that could crumble the very foundations of eden itself. amidst the dark world of manipulation, connections, dirty politics and illegal dealings, you navigate with eight seemingly-refined gentlemen who have your back as the war with the elites begins.
timeline | maps | character book | visual board
chapters:
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen
