summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again
< part 13 | alternative ending >
“five more minutes”, you mumble against his chest, your voice still heavy with sleep.
seungmin laughs softly under you, one of his hands moving through your hair while the other stays wrapped around your waist beneath the sheets.
“mmhm, you said that ten minutes ago”, he says and you can tell he’s smiling.
“i know, but i mean it this time”, you say, getting even closer to him, and he knows you don’t mean it this time either.
“y/n, you have an interview in two hours”
you groan and bury your face deeper into him immediately, your arms tightening around his body.
“please, don’t remind me”
his chest shakes under you as he laughs again and then you feel him tilting his head to look down at you.
“you’re nervous”, he says, matter of fact.
“no, i’m not”
“yes, you are”
you sigh and snuggle closer to him, “okay… maybe a little”
“a little?”, he laughs, amused.
you lift your head just enough to glare at him weakly, “this is my future we’re talking about, kim seungmin”
his expression softens at that, like it always does with you now. one year later and he still looks at you like your feelings are the most important thing in the world.
“you’re gonna do amazing”, he says quietly.
you shake your head, “you don’t know that”
“but i know you and you’re amazing”
your chest warms at his words and you have to look away for a second because somehow he still affects you too much, especially now, after everything.
“i’m serious”, he says, “i’m sure they already love your book and they will want to publish it”
you sigh again, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his t-shirt, “but what if they don’t?”
“then they’re stupid”
you laugh at that, “seungmin!”
“i’m serious”, he says again, pulling you closer against him, “you’ve worked on this book for almost a year. you’ve stayed up all night countless times, just writing and then writing again when you didn’t like something. you’ve put your whole heart into this”, he says as his fingers brush gently against your cheek, “and i know you, and you don’t do things halfway”
you stare at him and god, you love him so much. and maybe the most beautiful part is that now you can finally love him without fear attached to it, without confusion or constantly feeling like he might disappear again.
everything that once hurt between you had healed slowly after the show ended. it wasn’t magically or overnight, no, but patiently, carefully, you two kept choosing each other again and again until it became easy, until loving each other stopped feeling terrifying or something that could shatter and just started feeling safe.
the show ended exactly a year ago, a whole year since seungmin walked through that white door and looked at you like you still were his whole world. you both left together that night, no hesitation or doubts anymore, you just left together, your hands intertwined while the cameras followed you outside for the last time.
two months after that, you moved back in together, back into this apartment that was your home together, then became your constant reminder of him when he wasn’t there, and now it’s your home again. but now you know what it feels like to lose each other and neither of you wants to go through that again.
your life together after the show has been beautiful - quiet mornings, late night convenience store runs, falling asleep tangled together on the sofa, cooking dinner together while played in the background, seungmin editing photos at his desk while you wrote beside him for hours in silence.
home, that’s what it became again, your home.
and now here he is beside you in bed, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes still warm and soft while he looks at you like you the most precious thing he’s ever had.
you groan and hide your face in his neck, “what if i embarrass myself?”
“you won’t”
“what if they hate me?”
“they won’t”, he says, quicker this time, no room for hesitation.
“what if i faint?”
at that he laughs again, much harder than before, a full laugh, bright and beautiful.
“baby, you’re being dramatic”
you gasp against his neck, “i’m not”
“you absolutely are”
you lift your head and narrow your eyes at him before you try to pull away from his arms.
“okay then, since you’ve decided to bully me this early in the morning-”
but before you can finish speaking, seungmin suddenly grabs your waist tighter and then, attacks his fingers dig into your sides mercilessly and you immediately shriek.
“seungmin-”
“what?”
“s-stop- n-no, please”
you break into uncontrollable laughter as you try to escape him while he just keeps tickling you under the sheets.
“minnie, p-please”
“no”, he says, laughing as much as you.
“y-you’re impossible”
“and you’re dramatic”
“b-but you l-love me!”
“i do”, he says immediately.
the words come so naturally now, so easy that it seems like they’re engraved in his lips. and it doesn’t matter that you’ve heard them a thousand times before, they still make your heart stumble every single time.
you stop laughing and look at him, seungmin looking at you the moment he sees you watching him. his hands slow against your waist as you try to catch your breath while he looks at you with those eyes that always undo you completely.
his fingers brush gently against your cheek and then he lends down and kisses you, making you melt against his lips. one of your hands slides into his hair while his arm wraps tighter around your waist beneath the sheets, pulling you fully against him. you kiss him again and again, your kisses mixed with your laughter every time one of you smiles too much against the other’s lips to keep kissing properly.
“i’m so in love with you”, you whisper against his lips.
he smiles, “good”
you laugh and pull away, “good?”
“yeah”, he says, kissing you once more, “good”
“that’s it? that’s all you have to say?”
“what else do you want me to say, huh?”, he says, leaning in trying to kiss you again but you just push his chest while you shake your head.
“i don’t know, something like you love me too or that you love me even more or something like-”
he doesn’t let you finish, because he leans in again and succeeds this time when he presses your lips together this time, making you smile against them.
“i’m so in love with you, y/n, you have no idea”
your heart feels so full it almost hurts so you do the only thing you can think of, you kiss him again and again until he groans against your lips and then collapses fully on top of you now, this time it’s his turn to cling.
“you know what?”, he mumbles, “actually forget the interview. stay here with me”
you burst out laughing, “oh my god, minnie”
“just five more minutes”
“you… hypocrite”
“please”, he whines, tightening his arms around you, “i’m just a man in love”
you laugh harder, your fingers sliding through his messy hair while he buries his face against your chest.
“you’re unbelievable”
“mmhm”, he mumbles against you, “but i’m still not letting you leave”
you smile so hard your cheeks hurt as your fingers continue brushing through his hair gently while the sunlight keeps filling the room around you. seungmin closes his eyes beneath your touch like he never wants to move again, like this is all he ever needed - you, your home together, in peace, finally.
the editor smiles at you from across the table and closes the printed manuscript carefully before placing both of her hands over it.
“i loved it”, she says smiling at you.
you blink at her, almost like you didn’t hear her properly.
“what?”
she laughs softly at your expression, “your book”, she says again, “i loved it”
you feel your entire body go warm and she takes the opportunity to continue speaking.
“you write emotions beautifully”, she says, flipping one of the pages open again briefly, “and the relationship of the main characters feels very real. painfully real at times i would say”
you let out a nervous laugh because if she only knew.
“there’s something very honest about it, especially the way you write about love after loss. most people usually write second chance romances like fantasy, but yours feels…”, she pauses for a moment, searching for the right word, “lived… real”
your throat tightens immediately because it was lived, every page and chapter of your book, every heartbreak was definitely lived. you poured yourself into this book when you didn't know what else to do with your feelings. when loving seungmin felt impossible when he left, when your heart had nowhere to go except onto paper, when the show felt too complicated to even exist there, when seungmin came back and loving him felt like something you could never escape from.
the editor smiles softly again, “we still need to have a final meeting with the rest of the team but personally? i think this has a lot of potential”, she says as you stare at her, still trying to understand that this is finally happening, “we’d really like to publish it, y/n”
and suddenly your eyes burn. you bow quickly in your seat, completely overwhelmed and not sure of what to do.
“thank you”, you say breathlessly, “really, thank you so much”
she smiles again, “we’ll contact you soon after the meeting, but you should be really proud of yourself”
proud.
you feel like you could cry there and then, so you just shake hands politely, bow once more and then manage to leave her office without completely bursting into tears - you don’t really know how you pull that off to be honest.
the second the door closes behind you, you grab your phone and immediately call seungmin, your fingers shaking as you do it, and he answers instantly, like he was already waiting for your call.
“well?”
you laugh breathlessly, “she loved it”
“what?”
“seungmin, she loved it!”, you repeat louder now, unable to stop smiling, “and she said they want to publish it”
there’s a second of silence and then-
“i knew it!
you burst out laughing in the middle of the hallway, hearing seungmin screaming and cheering for you on the other end of the line.
“i knew it, i knew it!”, seungmin continues loudly, “i told you, baby, i told you they’d love it”
your smile hurts now but you’re so happy, so fucking happy.
“she said they still need to have another meeting”, you explain quickly while walking towards the lifts, “but she said it has potential and that she wants to publish it and-”
“i’m proud of you”
his words make you stop completely and you stand there in the middle of the hallway, your smile impossibly bigger and your eyes finally letting some tears fall down your face. seungmin’s voice grows quieter after that.
“i’m really proud of you baby”
you close your eyes while your tears still fall, “i love you, minnie”, you whisper and he can hear the smile on your voice.
he laughs softly through the phone, “i love you too, baby”
you hear movement on his side of the call, the keys jingling you think.
“where are you?”, you ask him as you start walking again.
“i’m coming to pick you up”, he says and you hear the door closing.
“what?”
“i already spoke to minho”, he says, “we’re meeting all of them in like an hour anyway, so we have some time”
you smile instantly, “minnie”
“what?”
“you don’t need to come get me, i can go home and then we can leave together”
“i know i don’t have to, but i want to”
your heart melts completely and you can hear his smile through the phone.
“i’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes”
you laugh softly, “okay, i’ll wait for you in the cafeteria”
“okay… and baby?”
“yes?”
“you did it”
the words hit you harder than anything else today, because it’s true - you did it. you swallow quickly, then smile to yourself again.
“yeah”, you whisper softly while stepping inside the lift, “i did it”
you end the call and then the lift begins descending. you lean back against the mirrored wall, staring at your reflection while your heartbeat slowly calms. it’s crazy to think that it’s been one year since everything fell apart and somehow led you exactly where you were always meant to be.
you think about that version of yourself sometimes - the girl crying against windows while storms raged outside who was terrified of hurting everyone, the girl who thought love had become something painful and impossible for her.
you barely recognise her now, not because she disappeared, no. but because she survived and she finally found peace afterwards. the show changed everything for you.
it forced you and seungmin to finally face everything you had been too afraid to admit before - the hurt, the love, the fear, the longing, all of it. and somehow after all that chaos, after all the tears and the heartbreak, what remained was simple, you loved him and he loved you and your love survived anyway.
the show also gave you a new found family - lily, minho and han. they were the people you met in the middle of heartbreak and became your family afterwards. and lily and minho could both say the same thing, because no longer after the show ended, they started dating and now they’re looking for places to move in together.
you still see yuna and changbin sometimes too, but their lives are a bit more hectic than yours. you’ve seen them in occasional dinners and your birthday parties, and you text a lot, but still, they are some of the people you really want to keep in your life.
you saw yeong a bit more right after the show ended, but you’re not really in contact with her now. you think it might be because of minho and lily dating, so you don’t really blame her for becoming more distant now. feelings are feelings after all.
you obviously don’t see hae or haven’t heard from her, like… none, zero, nada. not that you’re interested in seeing her to be honest.
and chan…
your chest softens slightly at the thought. things ended peacefully between you in the end, painfully but peacefully. the last time you saw him was the day before the show ended, when you went to their lodge looking for seungmin and you found him there instead. he had told changbin he needed distance to move on properly and you understood.
you’ll probably always care about him in some way, but you know some people aren’t meant to stay forever in your life. some people arrive in your life to help you understand something before letting you go. and maybe that was what chan had been for you - a lesson, a comfort during a moment where you felt completely lost.
but seungmin… seungmin was your home, and he always had been.
the show gave you love again, your home, it gave you people who stayed and also, in the middle of all that chaos, your heartbreak became a book. a book that someone now wanted to publish - your dream, your love story, your second chance, your opportunity to love again, all of it became real.
who knows if someone could read your book and hope that it would be the same for them too.
the doors finally open downstairs and you start walking towards the cafeteria, which is much quieter than usual when you walk in. there’s soft music playing somewhere in the background and when you look to the counter, you see felix and jeongin working there, both of them workers there who you have met during the last months, whenever you came to the meetings and such.
the moment they see you, both of them straighten immediately behind the counter.
“and?”, felix asks you, his eyes wide and hopeful, “how did it go?”
you can’t even stop your smile before it spreads across your face again and apparently that’s enough answer for them because both of them react immediately.
“no way!”, jeongin says loudly, smiling big and bright at you.
felix gasps and then points at you, “they liked it!?”
you laugh again, still feeling like none of this is actually real and you’re gonna wake up any moment now.
“she said they want to publish it”, you tell them.
felix lets out the loudest scream and jeongin walks towards you, grabbing your shoulders the moment he gets close enough.
“congratulation, y/n!”, jeongin says.
“i knew it!”, felix says, walking towards you too, “i told you the last time you came here”
you laugh harder as both of them start talking over each other excitedly.
“this is so cool, y/n!”, felix says.
“you’re gonna be a published author”, jeongin says.
“a real author now!”
your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. the three of you end up laughing together in the cafeteria, while both of them just keep congratulating you and celebrating.
“you will have to sign my copy when it’s out”, felix says.
“no, you have to sign mine first”, jeongin argues.
“no, mine! i met her first, you weren’t here the first day she came!”, felix says.
“well, i met seungmin first so that’s 1-1”, jeongin says.
you laugh softly and shake your head. god, everything feels so good today, almost perfect, there’s no way this day could get any better.
felix leans back against the counter and smiles at you more softly after a moment.
“seriously though”, he says, “i’m sure you must have worked really hard for this, y/n, you should be proud of yourself”
you look down shyly for a second, “thank you, felix”
“i can’t wait to read it”, jeongin adds, “no, seriously, the way you talked about it every time you came here me want to read it and i’m not really a book guy to be honest”
you laugh, “that’s bad, you know?”
“yeah, really bad”, felix says, teasing him too, “we work in the cafeteria of a publishing house, you should be ashamed of yourself”
jeongin flips felix off and you start laughing again, shaking your head looking at the scene.
“okay, so before you two continue judging me”, jeongin says, gesturing towards the menu behind felix, “miss author, coffee? cake? tea? ice cream?”
you smile and shake your head again, “no, thank you. seungmin’s picking me up in a bit”
both of them look at each other and smirk knowingly.
“oooh”, felix says, smirking at you now.
“date night”, jeongin says.
“jeongin, it’s midday”, you tell him.
“and? love doesn’t know time”, you burst out laughing again, and he continues, “you’re disgusting actually, both of you”
“you’re just jealous of them”, felix says, hitting his shoulder softly.
“that would be correct but let’s pretend it’s not”, jeongin answers, making you all laugh again.
felix suddenly looks over you shoulder then and smiles brightly, “oh, hi”
you turn and there he is, seungmin, walking towards you with that soft smile already on his face. your heart reacts to it instantly, it always will. he’s wearing simple black jeans and one of his shirts you keep stealing from him in the mornings when it’s the first thing your hands can reach to cover your naked body after you made love until late hours in the night.
he reaches you and immediately leans down to kiss your cheek softly.
“hi, baby”
“hi”, you say, smiling up at him.
he greets felix and jeongin warmly, bowing politely while they start teasing him.
“seungmin, you’re gonna have a famous girlfriend now”, felix says, grinning at both of you.
seungmin looks at you proudly, “i know”
your chest melts but you don’t get to say anything before jeongin speaks this time.
“you better spoil her tonight, okay?”, he tells seungmin.
seungmin nods his head, “already planning to”
you laugh while jeongin groans again, “i hate couples”
“you’ll survive, don’t worry”, you tell him, all of you laughing.
after another few minutes of talking and teasing, seungmin reaches for your hand, naturally and effortlessly, like it belongs there, which it does.
“come on”, he says softly, “we should go”
you say goodbye to felix and jeongin while they keep yelling congratulations after you and then leave the building together. the second you walk outside, you turn to seungmin but you barely even get a chance to speak because he pulls you gently towards him and kisses you, properly this time, so slow and soft that it steals your breath completely.
you move your fingers to his shirt, curling there instinctively while he kisses you like he’s waiting to do that since the moment he arrived, even since the moment you left your apartment that morning. you melt into his lips, feeling like you could fly away at any moment, but his lips against yours are the only thing keeping you there. when he pulls away, you’re breathless, blinking up at him while he smiles softly against your lips.
“what was that for?”, you whisper, so out of it that you’re not even sure if you said those words out loud or only in your head.
“that”, he says, brushing his nose against yours, “was to tell you how proud i am of you”
“seungmin…”
“i mean it”, he says, “you did it, my love”
you look at him and then smile again, so hard it hurts your face, but you don’t care. he smiles too, that soft and beautiful smile that once destroyed you and now only makes you feel safe. then he intertwines your fingers together and starts walking slowly beside you.
“the restaurant’s close”, he says, “and we have time, so i thought we could walk there”
you squeeze his hand gently, “i’d like that”
he lifts your joined hands and kisses your knuckles softly before continuing down the street with you beside him, like he plans to do for the rest of his life. you honestly don’t think he’ll ever stop touching you whenever he can and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.
“you know”, he says beside you, “i think i need to start preparing mentally”
you look at him, confused, “for what?”
he sighs dramatically, and you know then he’s joking.
“for what felix said”, he says, “my girlfriend becoming famous”
you burst out laughing, “seungmin-”
“no, seriously”, he continues with complete seriousness now, or at least as much as he can pretend, “soon people are gonna stop us on the street”
“oh my god”
“you’ll become this huge author”, he continues, “and then i’ll have to protect you”
you laugh harder, “protect me from what exactly?”
“the paparazzi obviously”
“there are no paparazzi, seungmin”
“not right now, but there will be”, he says and nods to himself confidently, “i’ll become your bodyguard”
you snort, “you?”
“yes”, he says and squeezes your hand, “i’ll wear sunglasses indoors and stand behind you like this”
he suddenly straightens his posture dramatically and places his free hand on his ears like he’s listening to someone saying something and then scans the river like he's a security personnel.
you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, “you’re ridiculous”
“some would say i’m the perfect boyfriend but whatever”
“debatable”
he gasps softly beside you, “you wound me”
you shake your head while smiling helplessly and seungmin looks at you with that fond expression he always gets now whenever you laugh too hard, like your happiness is the most beautiful thing he’ll ever see. then his fingers brush softly against yours again.
“so”, he says more quietly after a moment, “what now?”
you look at him, “what do you mean?”
“the book”, he shrugs casually, but you know him too well, “what happens now?”
you narrow your eyes suspiciously, “you mean the story?”
“mmhm”
but there’s something in his voice, something much softer, almost delicate. you stare at him for another second before realisation settles inside your chest and you smile faintly to yourself because you know what he’s really asking.
it’s not about the book, it’s about you and him, about your future. the book had always been inspired by both of you, the characters and their heartbreak and then their second chance. anyone reading it would never fully know, but seungmin does. he sees himself hidden between the pages every time he reads it and now he’s asking you what comes after the ending.
“what do you think happens?”, you ask him softly.
he smiles a little at that. to anyone else it would sound like you’re discussing fictional characters but neither of you is really talking about fiction anymore.
“i think”, he says slowly, “the sequel should be less traumatic”
you laugh quietly, “yeah, definitely less traumatic”, you smile while looking ahead the river again and continue talking, “i think… that maybe they finally learn how to love each other properly”
seungmin’s face softens instantly beside you, “they already do”
your heart stumbles softly but you continue anyway because suddenly this conversation feels fragile somehow, much more important.
“and i also think that they…”, you say quietly, “they move to a different place, a big house this time”
“mmhm”
“with lots of windows”
“because the girl loves the sunlight”, he says simply but his words hit you gently, deeply, because you do love the sunlight and it’s something that you told him on your first date and he hasn’t forgotten.
you look down for a second because somehow after all this time he can still make you shy.
“and maybe…”, you continue softly, “they stop being scared all the time”
seungmin looks at you then, “they definitely do that”
you smile faintly.
“and maybe they get married eventually”
the words leave your mouth casually, too fast, you don’t even think about them, but your heart starts beating faster and seungmin notices so he tightens his hand around yours softly.
“yeah?”, he asks you carefully.
you try to act normal, “yeah”
“what kind of wedding would they have?”
you look at him suspiciously now because he’s way too invested in this.
“seungmin”
“what? i wanna know all the details of the sequel, i don’t care if they’re spoilers”
you laugh and pretend to think for a moment before you answer him.
“maybe something small”, you say.
“small?”
“yeah”
he thinks for a second and adds, “near the ocean”
your chest warms at that, “near the ocean, yeah”
“with terrible weather”
you laugh, “absolutely terrible weather”
“yeah, like a storm maybe”, he says, laughing too.
“that rings a bell”
he grins proudly and then after a moment he says something else, casually, but it’s not.
“and they would probably have children, right?”
you choke slightly, “children?”
“yeah”
you stare at him now and he’s trying so hard not to smile.
“you’re insane”
“what? i’m just brainstorming here”
“sure”
you both keep walking slowly beside the river while people pass around you and the sky shines bright above you.
“how many?”, he asks you.
“what?”
“kids”
you laugh in disbelief, “minnie”
“oh come on, this is important for the plot”
you shake your head while smiling helplessly, “i don’t know… maybe two?”
he immediately shakes his head, “no”
you blink, “no?”
“three”
you stare at him in shock, “three!?”
“yes”, he says, nodding his head.
“that’s a lot of children”
“it’s literally one more child”
“that’s still a whole person, kim seungmin”
he laughs loudly beside you, “you’d be beautiful pregnant”
your jaw drops immediately, “oh my god?”, he laughs even harder now while you hit his arm repeatedly, “you can’t just say things like that!”
“why not?”
“because… because you just can’t, okay?”
he’s still laughing while pulling you closer against him.
“okay, okay”
“unbelievable”, you say, shaking your head, but you can’t hide the smile on your face.
“but imagine it though”
you look at him and you can see he’s not joking anymore. there’s something softer in his eyes now, like he can actually see everything you’ve been talking about - a home, children running around, you beside him, all of that forever.
“what would their names be?”, you ask him quietly, before you can stop yourself.
his expression changes instantly because now he knows you’re imagining it too and the realisation makes him smile so softly it almost makes you cry just looking at him.
“well”, he says thoughtfully, “we would have two girls and a boy and-
“you already planned it?”
“obviously”
you laugh again, “how many times have you thought about this?”
“i’ve lost track to be honest”, he says smiling softly and looking down shy for a moment before continuing, “for the girls i like bada and soyun”
you blink and you can feel your heart getting warmer and you have to stop yourself from crying.
“that’s actually really pretty, minnie”
he grins shyly at you before continuing, “and for the boy i like yoojin”
somehow it becomes this whole conversation after that, and you go from names to schools to whose personality the kids would inherit to who should be the one reading bed time stories each night. and through all of it, both of you know what this conversation really is. neither of you says it out loud but every glance lingers for too long and every smile feels to knowing because somehow without directly saying it, you’re talking about forever and the beautiful part is that you both want the same version of it.
eventually seungmin looks ahead and suddenly brightens.
“ice cream!”, he says, pointing at something ahead of you.
you follow his gaze and spot the small stall near the path and start laughing.
“seriously? we’re meeting the others to eat in a bit”
“and?”
“and you want ice cream now?”
he looks genuinely confused, “yes”
you shake your head fondly and he just grins when you finally nod.
“okay, fine”
“wait there for me”, he says, pointing towards the safety railing surrounding the han river.
you smile softly at him, “yes, mr. bodyguard”
“see? you’re already respecting my authority”
you laugh while walking towards the railing and seungmin heads towards the ice cream stall still smiling to himself. you rest your arms against the railing and smile to yourself while watching the sunlight dance across the water. this, this right here, is everything you used to dream about when you were younger.
you think about the conversation you just had with seungmin, about the weddings and children and books and sequels and forever disguised as jokes, and you smile again because deep down, you know that no matter what your future looks like, it’s going to be okay because he’ll be there.
you hear your phone buzz in your pocket and you already start laughing before even checking it.
“unbelievable”, you mumble to yourself.
perks of dating a photographer, apparently. you pull your phone out and unlock it, already expecting exactly what it is - a text from seungmin, a photo to be exact. you shake your head fondly while opening the text and seeing the photo. in it, you’re standing by the railing with your back turned towards the camera, your hair moving in the breeze while the sunlight melts into the river in front of you.
your heart melts instantly because somehow he always captures you exactly the way he sees you, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever loved.
you smile at the photo before your eyes drift lower and then freeze.
at the very bottom of the photo, slightly blurred but still visible enough for you to see it, there’s something in the corner of the frame.
a small open box and inside it, a ring.
your breath catches so suddenly it hurts and your eyes widen as your brain tries to process what you’re seeing.
no.
no way.
your heart starts pounding violently against your ribs and you look up from your phone, and then you turn around so fast your stomach flips and there he is.
seungmin, right in front of you.
on one knee.
the same ring box in his hands.
your breath leaves your lungs completely, “seungmin…”
his eyes are already glassy, red around the edges, emotional in that way he always gets when he’s trying very hard not to cry. everything feels blurred and distant now because all you can see is him, just him there in front of you.
you cover your mouth with both hands as tears flood your eyes, “oh my god, minnie-”
“baby”, he says quickly, already laughing nervously through his own tears, “please let me talk before i start crying too much”
you laugh helplessly, the sound breaking apart with your sobs while you nod your head rapidly. he exhales shakily and looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him breathing, and maybe you are.
“i had this whole speech planned”, he admits, laughing breathlessly, “and now i can’t remember any of it because you’re crying and now i’m crying too”
you shake your head while tears stream down your cheeks and then he smiles at you, that damn smile. the smile that survived everything, the smile that once broke your heart and then spent a lot of time finding its way back to you.
“you know”, he says softly, “when we talked about the sequel just now…”, you laugh through your tears again, “the wedding, the kids… our future”, he says, his voice shaking, “i wasn’t really talking about the book”
your chest caves in completely, “i know”, you say, your voice not much louder than a whisper.
he looks down for a second, collecting himself, before looking back at you again. and there’s so much love in his face that it nearly destroys you, but it’s also enough to pull all of your pieces back together again.
“y/n… you are the love of my life”, he says quietly, and the world stops, “you always have been”
your tears fall harder and he continues talking, smiling at you.
“i knew it even back then”, he says, his voice trembling now, “when we first met and we were younger and stupid and thought love was supposed to be easy”, he laughs weakly, “but even when everything fell apart… even when we lost each other… even when i thought i ruined everything beyond repair… even when i thought i was going to lose you again…”, his eyes shine, “it was still you”
your knees feel weak as a sob leaves your lips.
“i tried so hard to survive without you”, he whispers, “but nothing ever felt fully right without you there”, he wipes at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand before continuing, “and then we found each other again”, your chest aches so painfully it feels beautiful, it almost feels poetic, “we went through hell to get back here, literally national hell”, he says with a shaky laugh.
you laugh loudly through your crying and he smiles at hearing it.
“but i would do all of it again if it meant ending up with you”, the sun catches against the tears on his cheeks as he whispers, “you’re my home, y/n. you’re my safest place. my favourite person. my best friend. my forever”, his voice cracks then, “and i don’t want a single future that doesn’t have you in it”
you cry harder at his words.
“i want all of it with you”, he says, “i want the wedding. i want the house getting too noisy because our kids inherited your personality and my inability to say no to them”
you laugh wetly and he laughs with you.
“i want to eat ice cream with you at midnight. i want to edit my photos while you write your books next to me. i want to wake up next to you when we’re old and we need to get ready to eat with our children and grandchildren too”
his tears fall freely now too.
“i just want you”, he says helplessly, “for the rest of my life”
you’re sobbing now, your hands still covering your mouth while your entire body shakes as you look at him.
“and i know we already found our way back to each other once”, he says softly, “but this time…”, he opens the ring box and the diamond catches the sunlight, “this time i never want to lose you again”, his voice breaks completely, “so, y/n…”, he laughs shakily through his tears, “will you marry me?”
you nod your head before he even finishes speaking.
“yes”, your voice breaks, “yes, yes-”, you laugh and cry at the same time, “of course i will”
his entire face crumbles with emotion, “really?”
“yes!”, you cry, “seungmin, yes”
he stands up so quickly he nearly loses balance and you both laugh through your tears before he grabs your face with both of his hands. your hands clutch at his shirt and you realise both of you are crying uncontrollably now.
“you’re really gonna marry me?”, he whispers like he still can’t believe it.
you nod your head desperately, “in every lifetime”
that breaks him completely and he can’t do anything else but kiss you right then and there.
nothing in your life has ever felt like this kiss. not your first kiss, not your kiss after you found your way back to each other, not the storm, not the heartbreak, nothing.
this kiss holds everything - every day apart, every chance, every “i miss you”, every fear, every apology, every moment you spent finding your way back to each other.
his hand shake against your cheeks while he kisses you like he still can’t believe you said yes, that you’re gonna spend your lives together. and at this moment, all you know is him and his mouth against yours and his tears mixing with yours and the sound of his shaky laugh when you smile against his lips becomes your favourite sound in the world.
“i love you”, he whispers desperately between kisses”
“i love you too”, you whisper in the same way.
and again.
and again.
like neither of you will ever get tired of hearing it.
he pulls away just enough to take the ring out of the box with trembling fingers and your breathing stutters when he gently takes your hand. the ring slides onto your finger perfectly and then he looks at it, looks at you, and starts crying all over again.
“oh my god”, he laughs breathlessly, hiding his face in your neck, “you’re really gonna marry me”
you burst into laughter through your tears and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, and then he lifts his head just enough to catch your lips with his again.
“i’m so happy”, you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling as fresh tears gather in your eyes.
seungmin laughs softly, his own eyes still wet as he presses his forehead against yours.
“i know”, he says, “i can feel your heartbeat from here”
you let out a watery laugh and hold onto him tighter, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you still need to make sure he’s really there and this is real, that after everything, after all the heartbreak and fear and almost losing each other forever, this is where you ended up.
together and engaged, still hopelessly in love.
“i love you so much”, you say and the words come out broken because there’s simply too much emotion inside you now to say anything properly.
his entire expression softens immediately, a softness reserved only for you.
“i love you more”, he says.
“that’s impossible”
“no”, he says seriously, wiping another tear from your cheek with his thumb, “you don’t understand. i’m obsessed with you”
you burst into laughter through your tears and he smiles at the sound and then his eyes widen.
“we have to go!”
“what?”
“we have to go”, he says again, “they’re waiting for us”
your brain takes a second to catch up and then your eyes widen too, “wait-”
seungmin starts laughing immediately because he already know what you’re about to ask.
“they knew?”
he tries to look innocent, “well…”
“kim seungmin”, he laughs harder while you stare at him in complete betrayal, “you told them!? you told them you were gonna propose?”
“i had to!”
“oh my god”
he grabs your hand again before you can walk away from him and presses another quick kiss to your lips.
“i didn’t tell them when i was gonna do it though”, he defends himself between laughs, “I just told them it was gonna happen eventually”
“ugh, you’re unbelievable”
“but i’m your fiancé now”
you freeze there and so does he, as the word hangs between you.
fiancé. your fiancé.
you both stare at each other for a second before breaking down laughing again because neither of you can emotionally handle that yet.
“oh my god”, you whisper, covering your face, “seungmin, you’re my fiancé”
he looks just as emotional hearing you say it, “yeah”, he says softly and then, quieter, “and you’re my fiancée”
your chest aches so hard it feels like your heart is physically overflowing. you grab his face and kiss him again, long and soft, smiling against his mouth halfway through because neither of you can stop smiling now. when you pull away, he brushes his nose against yours gently.
“i really did have this whole speech planned, by the way”, he says.
you laugh, “i know, minnie”
“no, seriously. i practised in front of the mirror when you weren’t home”
“that’s adorable”
“and it was good too”, he complains softly, “like award winning level”
you laugh harder as he intertwines your fingers again and finally starts walking with you down the river and this time you stay impossibly close to him. your joined hands swing between you while your other hand wraps around his arm, holding onto him like you never want even an inch of distance between you again. seungmin looks down at you and immediately melts a little at how close you’re standing, then he kisses the top of your head softly.
“when did you even decide to do it?”, you ask him after a moment.
he smiles to himself, “honestly?”
“yeah”
“i’ve known for a while now”, he admits, “but today…”, his fingers squeeze yours gently, “when you called me after your meeting, you sounded so happy”, he says softly, “and i just kept thinking about how badly i wanted to spend every version of your future beside you”
your eyes burn instantly again.
“and then we had that conversation about the sequel”, he continues, laughing softly, “and our fake definitely-not-real children”
“excuse you, they’re very real now”
he grins, “right, sorry”
“you literally named all of them”
“i did, yeah”
you laugh again while he just looks ahead, a proud smile on his face. then your expression changes and you gasp loudly.
“wait the ice cream-”
seungmin immediately bursts into laughter.
“you lied to me!?”
“i’m sorry, baby, i had to!”, he says as he doubles over laughing while you hit his arm lightly.
“you were never gonna get ice cream, were you?”
“no”
“oh god…”
“i’m sorry! i had to distract you somehow to ask you to become my future wife”
you cover your face while he laughs harder, “ugh, i hate you so much”
“no, you don’t”
you smile because, well, you obviously don’t, you could never hate him, not in this lifetime, not in any of them. as you continue walking towards the restaurant, seungmin glances sideways at you with a mischievous smile.
“you know”, he says casually, “you’re gonna have people fighting to be your maid of honour”
you start laughing, “oh god, you’re right”
“lily’s gonna get violent”
“she absolutely will”
“and han too”, he says laughing.
you snort loudly, “he can’t be my maid of honour, he’s a boy”
“and you think that will stop him?”
you stare at him, “yeah, you’re right, he would definitely do it”
you both burst into laughter just imagining it.
“lily would actually kill him, it would ruin the wedding”, you say.
“i think it’d improve the wedding actually”, he says.
you laugh so hard you have to stop walking for a second and seungmin watches you with the softest expression imaginable. when your laughter finally calms, he steps closer to you again, very close. his hand moves to your cheek and then the noise of the city feels distant again.
“i love you so much” he says quietly, but it’s as honest and certain like breathing.
your chest tightens at his words, “i love you too, seungmin”
he smiles and then lends down and kisses you again beneath the bright sky while the han river glows beside you and the city moves endlessly around the two of you.
and for the first time in your life, forever no longer feels frightening, because now you know exactly who you’ll spend it with.
a/n: and this, my loves, is how reader and seungmin's love story ends 🥹 we made it!! they're happy, together again and ENGAGED! howeverrrr... this is NOT the end of this series because there's ONE CHAPTER MORE: AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING 🫣 but i will tell you more about this in my next post because i don't want to make this a/n long so see you there vroooom vroooom
the library
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#it’s so tasty and it comes in so many flavors#does the character self-loathe and feel anguished by what others intended as an act of forgiveness and grace?#does the character know they need to change but sort of madly wish they could trade the unceasing exhausting improvement journey#for a flash bang of slate-clearing repentance so they don’t have to *think* about it anymore?#is is a creeping horror as the character realizes no one is going to punish them because everyone else still thinks what they did was okay?#does the character have to live the rest of their life just feeling ever so slightly untrusted by everyone with no way to stop it?#sorry for leaving pretentious tags on tumblr dot com it will happen again
› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader
› aus: dilf jeonghan, boyfriend jeonghan, jeonghan is a girl dad
› genres: angst, fluff, smut (18+)
› word count: 23k
READ PART ONE HERE
› warnings: toxic family dynamics: jeonghan's ex is a bad person in general (a neglectful parent), talks about speech therapy, speech impediment. jeonghan is an idiot. reader is emotionally constipated. so there's A LOT OF drama.
› smut warnings: smut with plot (this part has more plot than the previous one, you're warned), they're both crazy for each other, dirty talk, pussy eating, jeonghan is pussy drunk, quickies, make up sex, breeding kink, cowgirl, daddy kink, edging, bathroom sex, silence play, unprotected p in v sex (i'm such a bad influence, wrap it up!), creampies, mating press, yn is slightly 🤏🏻 bratty, dom jeonghan, aftercare. pet names: babe, baby, beautiful, darling, sweetheart, (hers) babe, daddy (his)
› author's note: hiiii! i'm here to say thank you guys for the support in the pineapple on pizza? post! it was really nice to see that so many of you enjoyed it, so here is a part two! honestly i enjoyed writing dilf!hannie quite a lot and couldn't get him out of my brain for months so here it is, a part two lol. and this chapter is looooong, so buckle in!
also another note: this is incredibly self indulgent. like everything i write. but i think this one takes the cake.
› disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂
“Have you seen my keys?”
Morning routines were always a mess. Something different happened every time, and somehow, even though you’ve done this more than a dozen times, it was still hard to catch up.
But you were getting the hang of it.
The apartment was a controlled chaos, as you liked calling it. The air smelled of coffee and the soft fragrance that Jeonghan wore to work. Repetition was starting to have its effect as you began to associate your mornings with those two scents.
“Have you tried looking under the couch?” you asked, turning around with a small bowl in your hands. You placed it carefully on the small tabletop of Sohee’s booster seat and watched quietly as she sank her little spoon into her bowl of cereal and milk.
“I should’ve added more milk,” you mumbled, biting on the inside of your cheek.
The little girl didn’t seem to notice, though. She ate happily, kicking her feet in the air and clapping her tiny hands together as she chewed, milk dripping from the corners of her pouty mouth.
You heard a sigh, and then the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall, and you lifted your head.
Jeonghan was still buttoning his perfectly ironed shirt, his hands going lower and lower, distracting you from your initial task. You felt your lips parting before forcing any kind of control onto your facial expression. His black trousers were also yet to be fixed, but as he finished buttoning his shirt, he tucked it inside his pants, quickly fastening his belt.
You lowered your gaze to the little girl slamming her palms onto the tabletop. Sohee was dancing happily. And you were glad that you had zero witnesses to your ogling your boyfriend quite shamelessly.
You brushed crumbs off the table, picked up the empty bowl and put it away. “Alright,” you said with a sigh, pretending to be deeply focused on the morning routine. “Did you find them?”
When you looked up, you found that Jeonghan had also been staring. His eyes were trained on the scene happening before him. His mouth parted, and he appeared to be confused for a split second—giving himself a very brief shake. “Yeah,” he smiled shyly and patted the pocket of his trousers. “Under the bed.”
“Huh,” you grinned. “How could they have gotten there?” you asked, innocently tilting your head.
Jeonghan sighed. The smile was still glued to his face, but it slowly brushed off as he raised his wrist to his face, looking at his watch. “I’m late,” he said, delivering the words with an annoyed edge in his tone. “Fuck. I’m so late,” he added, turning around to grab the jacket that had been previously placed on the couch.
Panic rushed in your veins. It was a big day for Jeonghan at his work—he had a big meeting in which it was certain that he would get some good news about a project that he had proposed for the company he worked for. You knew what this meant for him.
You looked at the time. His shift started earlier than yours did, and with another twist to your stomach, you knew that he wouldn’t be able to drop Sohee off at the daycare and then make it on time to his meeting.
“Go. I’ll drop Sohee at daycare,” you blurted right as he was throwing Sohee’s things into her bag.
His gaze snapped up and locked onto your face. The shock was flitting, but you were able to catch it before he blinked and parted his mouth to say something.
But you were quicker— “Here. Take my car and I’ll take yours so I can put Sohee in her car seat. We can switch later,” you said, stumbling over your words as you fished your car keys from the pocket of your smart trousers, handing them to him.
Jeonghan straightened, fixing the wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose—you always went a little crazy when he did that—but this time he placed his hands on his hips, his face thoughtful, calculating. “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause an inconvenience with—”
“Babe, you’re not causing anything,” you insisted, thrusting your fist holding the keys into the space between you and him. “Take my car. Go to your meeting. I’ve got Sohee.”
At that, Jeonghan’s face relaxed, starting to approach you with a softened look on his face—like he could melt just at the sight of you. He took the keys from your hand. “You’re godsent, did you know that?” he asked, his tone low as he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to his body.
“I’m just here to help,” you said lightly, meeting his gaze as he bent his head to meet your lips with his own.
Jeonghan gave you one feathery kiss. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, pushing his lips on yours again. “Be careful, okay? Call me if anything happens.”
You smiled against his lips. “I got this,” you repeated in a sweeter tone.
Part of you was sure that Jeonghan knew this as well. But Sohee was his entire world. And he was quite literally leaving her in your hands.
And you were unsure as to what to think about it.
Jeonghan turned, peeling himself from your lips with a begrudged groan and placed a kiss on top of Sohee’s head. “Goodbye, sweetheart,” he cooed gently.
Your tummy twisted again. This time, the reaction was from the way Jeonghan switched into dad mode in the blink of an eye. The switch from hot boyfriend to diligent father never failed to mess with you.
Sohee lifted her head, her eyes looking at her dad, but she didn’t respond.
“Be good today, okay? Eat all of your meals and try not to miss me too much,” Jeonghan insisted, trying to get her to utter something. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Byeee,” he cooed again.
But Sohee kept looking at her father fixedly.
“Sweetheart, say bye,” Jeonghan encouraged Sohee again, this time lower but still gentle.
“Maybe she’s not feeling it today, babe,” you muttered behind him.
A few weeks ago, Jeonghan confided in you that he started to notice that Sohee often froze at the moment of speaking full sentences. Initially, he had brushed it off, thinking that his daughter was innately shy, just like himself. But as months passed by and she continued developing other social skills, he began to believe that it was something else.
“Right,” Jeonghan mumbled, not hiding the slight look of worry on his face. But he leaned and propped another kiss on her forehead before stepping back. He kissed you on the cheek, handing you the keys to his car.
“Good luck,” you mumbled, and he replied with a quick nod. You and Sohee watched quietly as Jeonghan slipped through the door.
As soon as the door clicked shut, you realized what you had gotten yourself into. It was supposed to be a simple task, yes. But it had a thousand layers of meaning beneath it. Taking Sohee to daycare was something you could do every day, gladly—but something felt off.
Like you were starting to cross a line, and neither Jeonghan nor you knew how to talk about it.
Taking Sohee to her daycare was one thing—driving Jeonghan’s SUV was another.
It wasn’t a particularly daring task either, but it also put your nerves on edge. After fixing Sohee’s daycare bag and your own stuff, you grabbed her first, hoisting her up your hip, and then you swung your bag and Sohee’s on your shoulder.
“Ready to see your friends today, Sohee?” you asked, raising your tone into a sweet one. It felt practiced, and you remembered the first few times you ever did it—how it made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. But after a time, you could say that you understood why people would talk in a cute way to kids, it came naturally.
“Yeah,” Sohee replied, the word landing almost aloofly. Like you had just caught her in a moment where she didn’t find any barriers for her to speak.
You pushed the button of the elevator and slowly moved your head to look at her.
Sohee was a perfect little girl of almost three years of age. When you met her over half a year ago, you were sure you were holding a little angel. She was gentle and sweet. Her head was full of dark hair that matched her long eyelashes, just like her father’s.
“Oh, yeah? What are their names?” you asked, eyeing her as you stepped into the elevator with her still attached to your hip.
“Dany,” she mumbled perfectly, raising her tone as though she were about to make a list of names.
“Dany? Okay, and who else?”
“Nora,” she said, quieter this time.
The elevator paused on its way down, opening the doors for another person to step in. You knew the conversation was over.
Sohee fell silent, lowering her gaze from you and fixing it on one point on your shirt. You realized after a few seconds that she was staring at your hand, at your painted fingernails. What made you certain was the way she raised her hands to her gaze, comparing her fingernails to your own.
Something twisted inside you, the idea of her and you doing each other’s nails dawned in your head. And you knew what that pang in your stomach was—possibility. You were thinking of the future.
“Here we go,” you mumbled as you approached Jeonghan’s navy blue Kia Seltos. The fresh smell of new and clean leather still lingered inside it as you opened the door and put Sohee in her chair.
She never complained, just quietly sat on the chair and looked at you as you fixed the buckle of her safety belt.
“Safety first,” you said, trying to fill in the silence. You grabbed one of the toys from the toy basket sitting beneath her seat and showed it to her. “Look, it’s Rory!” you cried dramatically, showing her the dinosaur plushie that you knew she loved.
Sohee extended her arms and made grabby hands at the green and very cute T. rex. She didn’t speak again, no matter how hard you tried to get her to say something.
The parking lot was buzzing with activity, cars coming and going, hustling parents coming in and out of the building, dropping their kids off—and you for sure felt like a fish out of water, but you didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long. You signed Sohee in without an issue—the staff mentioned that as you were dropping Sohee off, Jeonghan had phoned them to let them know you were coming in his stead.
You soothed Sohee’s hair and gave her a quick kiss on her head as she scrunched her fingers on your back, almost affectionately. “You be good, sweetie,” you said before leaving her and turning to the parking lot, feeling strangely empty when you climbed inside the SUV.
You carried out work as usual. You didn’t think about the odd feeling clawing at your heart for the rest of the morning. The second the clock hit one o’clock, your phone started vibrating, snapping you out of your monitor screen. You scrambled to get your phone, only to see Jeonghan’s face on the screen.
“Hello?” you responded with a hushed tone, looking over to see if you had interrupted the workflow in the office. But you realized the space was nearly empty, and everyone had left for lunch.
“Am I interrupting?” Jeonghan noticed immediately by your tone alone.
“No. I just didn’t look at the time,” you told him, pushing yourself off the chair and walking in the direction of the elevator.
“Oh, I see. Is this still a good time to speak with you?” he asked.
You smirked at his choice of words. “I don’t know, you tell me. Is this a good time for you?” you retorted, noticing that he was also in his cubicle.
“You got me,” he said, and you could imagine the shy smile on his face. “I’m stepping outside, hold on.”
You pushed the button to the elevator and waited while on the other side of the line, you heard Jeonghan moving.
“Okay, I’m out,” he said with a sigh. “Are you going to the food court?” he asked.
Jeonghan knew your schedule well, and he was also very familiar with your routine since you always kept him in the loop of the things you did. When you started dating, you would quite practically narrate to him your daily life through text messages, to the point that he knew all of your co-workers by name without knowing them in person.
“Yes,” you replied, stepping out of the elevator.
“Chicken salad?” he asked with a low tone, making you think that he probably had some co-worker passed him by.
“Oh, I think I’m moving on from that,” you told him. “I want a burrito. A chicken burrito.”
“Oof, how different,” he teased.
“Let me be,” you bit back and then frowned, suspecting something was off.
“I will. But I’m going to tease you about it either way,” he said with a brief laugh. “How is work going?”
“Fine,” you replied simply. But it was then that you dared to ask, “Is something going on, babe? You’re never this weird.”
Jeonghan sighed, and you knew he was smiling. “Am I being that obvious?” he said, and then, before you could say something, he continued. “I just wanted to tell you to come tonight and have dinner with Sohee and me.”
“Mmn, why do I feel like this could’ve been a text,” you said as you sat down at an empty table that was cluttered with a tray and a single French fry sitting on its box.
He laughed. “I am trying to get somewhere here,” he said.
“You’re taking a lot of detours!” you laughed with him. “Of course, babe. You know I love having dinner with you and Sohee.”
“Good. Great,” he mumbled, and something about the dejected way his words came out made your ears perk.
A long moment of silence happened between you, where you could hear the sound of his breathing and nothing else. Your gaze fell out of focus, landing on a single grain of salt on the dirty table in the very crowded food court.
“Is everything alright, babe?” you asked, your tone lower. “Did the meeting go well?”
“Yeah. It’s not that. I want—” he cut himself off, but then, “I want us to talk,” he said.
Your heart fell to your stomach, the feeling so impactful that it left you completely stunned. There was nothing in the world that could replace the feeling you’d get when you heard the words we need to talk, and all of its variations.
“Oh, then—t-that changes things,” you mumbled awkwardly, not forgoing that he ignored your initial question.
“Wait, no,” he started, noticing the tension in your words. “It’s nothing bad.”
“Okay,” you said under a heavy sigh. “Then tell me now,” you said.
“I’d rather wait until tonight—”
“Did I do something wrong?” you asked instead. And perhaps you could’ve controlled yourself better, but you were fully induced in anxiety now.
“No. I swear it’s nothing bad,” he told you firmly. “It’s something I have been wanting to ask you.”
You started toying with the lonely grain of salt with the tip of your finger. “If it really is nothing bad, then you could ask me now,” you said, fully aware of how shaky your tone was.
“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, stretching out each word.
“Very.”
Jeonghan sighed and then paused. You could picture him clearly—standing on the balcony of the building where he worked, looking very polished on the outside but probably tense, judging by his tone alone.
“I was just thinking that we’re always so busy, you with work and me with—well, with everything and…” You heard him pause, and then release a sigh, and that’s how you knew he was also steadying himself. “I wanted to know if you would like to move in with us. With Sohee and me.”
In all of the things you could’ve possibly imagined him saying, this wasn’t one of them. You straightened in your seat as a chill ran down your spine. “Jeonghan, are you serious?” you asked, unable to control how firm you sounded.
“I don’t mean now, but sometime in the future. We can plan and see how things go from there,” he offered, and he sounded steady, but you could notice the slight edge of nervousness in it.
The feeling invading your body made you feel as if you had been dropped from a very tall building.
“Babe…” you started, looking for the words to say.
“It’s okay if you want to say no,” he said. “I just wanted to talk about it with you tonight over dinner.”
You closed your eyes, swallowing hard. “I’m not saying no,” you told him.
“You’re not saying yes either,” he sighed in defeat. “I’m rushing into things.”
Your chest caved in. You wanted to say yes, you wanted this. But there were so many things that you thought needed to happen before you moved in with him and his daughter. In your book, things like the first I love you had to happen before sharing a roof with that person. Or at least knowing them for a full year.
Oh, and the judgment. Your friends already thought you were insane for dating a single parent, and now you were moving in with him eight months after meeting him? Not only that, your whole life had taken a turn when you started dating Jeonghan—to the point that the person you were a year ago wouldn’t recognize the person you were now.
“Can we talk about it tonight over dinner?” you asked, your tone tiny.
“Of course. We can talk about it more calmly,” he said, and you couldn’t ignore the note of sadness in his words. “I get it, baby. I should’ve waited. I’m sorry.”
“No, Jeonghan. You did nothing wrong,” you said, but then something felt off.
“Listen, I have to go back. See you tonight?” he asked, and you caught the way his tone picked up. Something had come up.
You deflated completely. “See you tonight, Jeonghan.”
And then something hung in the air. An unspoken thing between you, something that needed to be said.
Your heart started to hope.
But then the line went dead.
There was a thought that you couldn’t quite keep away. When you met Jeonghan, you instantly knew this man was for you—every bone, every nerve ending in your body told you that. Then, when you knew he was a single father, you knew that a relationship with him would be challenging. But it turned out to be easier than expected.
However, things started to shift from the first night you and he took things to the next level. Spending the night in his bed was a very conscious decision you both made. You were both ready, and truth be told, aching for each other. What you didn’t foresee was that you were climbing those steps into a serious relationship without paying attention to how fast and how uncontrolled you were.
Now, it felt as though you were in too deep, but there were no rules or boundaries in place.
You gnawed on your lower lip, debating whether to write him a text telling him that you knew he meant well by his proposition.
Instead, you got up and went to the nearest convenience store, got a sandwich, and ate half of it on the elevator ride back to your office.
The rest of your shift happened in a blink. Thankfully, you were so busy that the aftermath of that call with Jeonghan was pushed to the second plane of your brain. You would sometimes remember it with a jolt in your stomach. And he also didn’t text you afterwards, which meant that he was also probably busy—or that’s what you wanted to believe anyway.
You came out of the office some four hours after the phone call, scrambling inside your handbag to get your car keys.
Your phone started vibrating furiously somewhere in one of the many pockets, your heart deflating stressfully in the thought that it could possibly be Jeonghan. A flashing thought drove that anxiousness right into your soul, telling you that he would be telling you that tonight’s plans were off.
But it was an unknown caller. And you picked up solely on the thought that it would be a work-related thing.
“Yes?” you said, putting your bag on top of the trunk of your car.
The caller was a woman with a very polite tone, asking for you using your full name.
“This is her,” you replied almost routinely.
“Hi! This is Katy from the Speech and Learning Center. Am I speaking to Sohee’s mother?”
“Oh—” you gasped, leaving the task of finding your keys completely abandoned due to the sheer shock that question gave you. “No. I’m her father’s partner. Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no. Everything is fine. I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Katy responded kindly. “We have you on Sohee’s file as the emergency contact in case her father doesn’t answer, and we’ve tried him three times just now, but no answer. Are you able to make choices about her appointments with us?”
“God,” you mouthed to yourself, screwing your eyes shut. “Um, Sohee’s birthday is on Friday, so Thursday would probably be better,” you responded automatically, and then you stopped yourself with a shake. “But I think you should try her father again.”
But then you remembered—Jeonghan had mentioned a very important meeting, the one where his boss would determine whether he had the promotion or not.
“I believe he was in a meeting. Maybe you should try in…” you checked your watch. “Twenty minutes. He should be off by then.”
“Understood. I will call him instead. Well, I thank you for picking up this call and wish you a good rest of your day. Bye!”
“Thanks. You too,” you replied shakily.
And then she hung up.
The drive to Jeonghan’s apartment felt like an out-of-body experience. You felt yourself driving, but at the same time, your mind was somewhere else. After being hit with two reality checks, one after another, you were reconsidering what to do, what to say to Jeonghan once you saw him.
He had assigned you as Sohee’s emergency contact. Not her grandmother, not her aunt. And certainly not her mother. You.
It shouldn’t be a big deal—maybe you were making it into a big deal. But after Jeonghan had told you he wanted you to move in with him and his daughter, this just felt like too much.
You turned the doorknob of his apartment door as you released a shaky sigh, trying to drive out all your nervousness. But as you entered and laid eyes on him, you knew it would be impossible not to be nervous for the remainder of the night.
Jeonghan was sitting on the couch, baby Sohee sitting safely on his thigh as he held a triceratops in one hand, making it clash gently against Sohee’s brontosaurus. His gaze immediately switched to the door as you crossed it. Then tension set in, making the features of his face harden.
And you probably were mirroring that same expression. You closed the door behind you quietly and removed your shoes by the entrance.
Jeonghan placed Sohee on the couch carefully as you walked to the living room, feeling strange.
“Hey,” he said, reading your face with his eyes.
Your heart was racing incredibly fast. “Hi,” you replied.
“I got it,” he said with a big sigh.
Understanding dawned on you with a blink. “You got promoted?”
He nodded, but his expression was still blank.
“Oh my god!” you gasped, thinking that the tension in his demeanor was due to the call from earlier. “Congratulations!” you said excitedly, going for a hug.
Jeonghan didn’t appear to be happy, not precisely. But he wrapped your torso in his arms, hugging you tightly. “Thank you, baby,” he sighed, sinking his face into the crook of your neck.
Then you felt a pair of tiny hands palming your leg intuitively. You pulled away from Jeonghan’s arms, looking down to spot Sohee trying to get your attention.
“I think she’s feeling left out,” Jeonghan interpreted keenly.
“Oh, my bad,” you giggled and bent down to hug her. “Come here, princess,” you spoke softly to her as you lifted her in your arms.
“Look,” Sohee said quietly, showing you a new dinosaur toy.
“Wow, what is this?” you asked her, your tone turning into honey.
“Saurus,” she mumbled shyly, still showing you her dinosaur figurine.
“A stegosaurus,” Jeonghan informed you quietly as he watched you carry Sohee in your arms. And there was that look again. The one you had seen in the morning. He was watching intently, calmly—like he wanted to remember this moment forever without missing a thing.
“This is so cool,” you told her, still using that tone. “Is this the one you liked the most?” you asked her.
She listened to you intently, but her gaze was fixed on her figurine. She shook her head.
“Show her your favorite one, sweetheart,” Jeonghan said as you placed her back on the floor.
She ran back to the couch, grabbed the forgotten dinosaur and brought it back to you. You crouched to be at eye level with her as she showed you a new Triceratops.
“Did you just get these?” you asked her sweetly, your tummy twisting in cuteness aggression as she just nodded, ruffling her black hair.
“It was one of her birthday gifts. I thought that it would be safe to keep them stashed in my closet, but I guess that I should’ve known better,” he said guiltily, crouching with you as Sohee went on to show you her new collection of dinosaur toys.
“You’re a very observant girl, aren’t you?” you asked her, to which she ignored completely.
You could feel Jeonghan beside you, his gaze set on you as you continued your silent exchange with Sohee. After some seconds of feeling the weight of his gaze on you, you glanced to his direction.
“Can we talk?” he whispered as soon as he caught your eye.
You nodded, tummy twisting uneasily.
Jeonghan opened and then closed the fridge in one short motion. He placed his empty hands on his hips as he released a sigh. You noticed then that he was anxious. “Sohee’s mother is coming to town.”
You froze in place.
Of course. You should’ve expected her to be for her daughter’s birthday. But part of you was also completely vexed about this piece of information—since you had believed for a moment that Jeonghan wanted to talk about the proposal he’d made earlier. But Sohee’s mother rarely called, to the point that in the eight months you’ve been dating Jeonghan, you had never even seen her in person.
“Oh, I see,” you said, swallowing hard. And then you added quite awkwardly: “Is she… did you… Did she call to see what you would do for Sohee’s birthday?”
Jeonghan understood where your curiosity came from. But he was still looking at you wearily, just like all the times he talked to you about a difficult thing in his life. Like the time he told you about his daughter, or the time he told you about Sohee’s absent mother.
It made your stomach churn.
And you knew what it was. It was selfishness.
“No. I called her,” he said. You knew that he was telling you the truth, and in doing so, he was nervous. “Sohee’s birthday is one of the few times I can get her mother to come see her, so…”
“I understand,” you said, resuming to set the table with the tablecloth and the dishware. “Do you… want me here that day?”
“Of course I do,” he said. You glanced his way, seeing his worried face—his eyebrows knitting softly. “Do you want to be here?”
“As long as you are comfortable with it, yes,” you said, and then added: “I just don’t want to complicate things.”
Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Believe me, things can’t get more complicated with her. Soomin is just…” he shook his head lightly. “Well, you’ll see.”
You exhaled sharply. “Okay… no pressure,” you mumbled.
All you knew about Soomin was that she was not present in Sohee and Jeonghan’s lives from the moment Sohee turned eight months old. Her reason for parting and leaving everything behind was simply—I don’t want this life—and one day she packed her bags and left. Some months later, Jeonghan asked her for full custody of the baby, receiving it without any fight from her.
“Is she coming the day of?” you asked.
“On Thursday afternoon, after Sohee’s therapy,” he said. And then you noticed that the anxiety hadn’t quite brushed off. “I want you to meet her that day. That way we can have the party without any issues, if any.”
You raised your eyebrows, watching him from the other side of the table. “That bad?”
He nodded silently, throwing a look to the living room, where Sohee was dancing around to the music playing on the TV screen. “I just don’t want her to make a scene on Sohee’s birthday, you know? It’s supposed to be her day.”
The tension in your shoulders dissolved when you turned over your shoulder and saw baby Sohee bending her knees to the rhythm of the music, her tiny hands planted on the sofa to keep herself steady as she danced happily. Your stomach twisted with the realization that you loved Sohee in a way that you wanted to protect her, care for her.
You had gotten irrevocably attached.
You took a deep breath, slowly turning to see Jeonghan. “Don’t worry, babe,” you told him, smiling at him as you approached him again. “We’ll make Sohee’s day just about her, alright?” you said, pushing yourself to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Jeonghan smiled softly. “Alright,” he said.
You stared at that smile on his face for one long second, and slowly, the memory of the phone call from earlier came back to your mind. Your heart faltered. You carefully thought of how to open the conversation, but nerves got the better of you first— “About earlier…” you said in a whisper, pausing to clear your throat. “Were you serious? About me moving in?”
Jeonghan inhaled slowly, blinking away from your face briefly, glancing to where his daughter was in the living room. “We don’t have to rush,” he said, licking his lips before turning his gaze back to you. “It’s a big step, but it makes sense, right? I mean, you’re already here all the time…”
You studied him for a brief moment. You were hearing him, but all you could think about was the way his shoulders were tight, the way he was gripping the back of the chair with one hand. And more than everything else—the way he wasn’t meeting your eyes.
“It feels fast, Jeonghan,” you said carefully.
“It feels right,” he countered, taking one step towards you. His face had changed now that you could see him with more closeness—his dark eyes were full of certainty, full of tenderness. “I want you here. With us. You’re already here all the time, you do morning routines with us, put her in bed, and drop-offs…”
Your chest tightened. Something felt off. And then by pure instinct, you glanced at Sohee. The baby had stopped moving, her gaze fixed on the flat screen mounted on the wall, sticking her index finger in her mouth quite aloofly.
But the sight of her made your tummy twist even harder. It was the realization hitting you like a train. If you lost this—if Jeonghan and you ever get to a point where you split, you would lose Sohee as well. The mere thought threatened to break your heart.
His gaze shifted—and without following it, you knew that he was looking at Sohee. “I’m just… scared of doing this wrong way, you know?”
You reached for his face, cupping it with your hands to draw his gaze back to you again. “Then we should slow down,” you said, your heart protesting against your words with a stabbing pain. “Just a little.”
He swallowed hard. “Okay,” he breathed.
“Yeah?” you replied in kind. “We slow down for just a little while. We could talk about it again when the timing feels right.”
Jeonghan grabbed one of your wrists, squeezing it gently. He looked relieved, so much so that the next sigh he let out was slow as he leaned his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want is to rush you,” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” you replied, despite your heart deflating a little. “I understand. Just know that I’m not saying no. Okay?” you said, raising your tone just a little bit higher, trying to swallow your nerves.
“Okay,” Jeonghan replied with a breathy giggle, hearing your nervous tone.
You felt his lips grazing yours before he kissed you fully. It was then that you felt those three littlewords sitting on the tip of your tongue. You were falling for him, fast and uncontrollably. But instead of telling him that, you pushed your lips against his, kissing him fervently.
But then a sharp, and very high-pitched laugh pulled you both apart. Baby Sohee was laughing at something happening on the TV. You broke away and stepped back from Jeonghan.
“I’ll… bring her to her chair so she can have dinner,” Jeonghan said. And by the look in his eyes, you knew that there was something else on his mind.
You let out a tired breath. “What a Monday,” you sighed.
“Welcome to my life,” Jeonghan replied.
After dinner, Jeonghan started to ready Sohee for bed, and that usually involved a bath, brushing teeth and then bed. It took him around thirty or forty minutes. And in that time, you usually took it upon yourself to tidy the space up. Initially, you had started doing it to kill the time while waiting for Jeonghan to come back—despite his insistence for you not to do it—but lately, it felt like it was part of your routine too.
You had put all of Sohee’s toys in the basket, folded the blankets and were now doing the dishes. The task had fallen into a steady rhythm, and so you were deeply focused on washing a pan when a pair of arms snaked around your waist, startling you.
“Stay the night,” Jeonghan said, his tone low as he bent his head to rest it on your shoulder.
Your tummy twisted.
Ever since you slept with Jeonghan for the first time, you had fallen into a pattern of addiction. You would stay over at every chance you could get, which, granted, weren’t as many since you had a very hectic work schedule as a CEO Assistant and he as a single parent, and now newly ascended to Director. But even as you had finally stepped to that level of intimacy, it was life that constantly would get in the way. It wasn’t as easy to find a time for you to come to his apartment, and it would be nearly impossible for Jeonghan to spend the night at yours.
You felt his lips grazing a particular tender spot on the crook of your neck. “Hannie,” you sighed, recoiling from his sweet kisses.
“What?” he mumbled against your skin, you could tell from his tone that he was smiling. But he didn’t stop kissing your neck slowly.
You swore you could melt. When you took too long to respond, he giggled gently against your skin.
“Want me to stop?”
You had already scrubbed every inch of the pan you were holding under the stream of water; the task had been long forgotten. “No, I want you to let me finish doing the dishes,” you replied with a playful tone.
“Alright, my bad,” he said, stepping back from you and starting to put things away in the kitchen.
You watched him through the corner of your eye as he roamed all over the space. Feeling the absence of his touch on your skin made you swallow hard. “I didn’t say you had to stop,” you mumbled, feeling hot on the cheeks.
Jeonghan huffed, clearly still amused. “Baby, we’ve been going like this for weeks,” he said pointedly, then chuckled as he threw a look at your face, finding your pout.
Since the night when you slept with Jeonghan for the first time, you have had very few occasions of true intimacy. However, that didn’t stop Jeonghan from teasing you, touching you in places he hadn’t dared before that night, but now he did it at every chance he could get when no one else was looking.
It got you nervous. You liked him too much. Every time he touched you intimately, your mind would be thrown back to those nights where it was just you and Jeonghan. It made your blood dance, heating your entire body.
Only Jeonghan had that power.
You placed the last item on the drying rack and grabbed the hand towel, drying your hands before returning it to its place. “Fine, I’m done doing the dishes,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “Where were we?”
Jeonghan let out a teasing huff. “You’re cute,” he said with a chuckle.
“You’re a tease,” you bit back, trying to sound as annoyed as you could, but instead your tone denoted how flustered you already were.
Jeonghan rolled his eyes at you, the smirk not washing off his face. “So? Are you staying or not?” he asked, his tone still playful.
“Only if you behave,” you said impishly.
Jeonghan raised his eyebrows, stepping closer to you. “Me?” he asked, his tone rising. He was close enough now that all he had to do was lift his hand to cup your face, fixing your gaze on him. “All I do is what you tell me, baby,” he said, his tone so low and raspy it was almost like a purr.
“So whenever you misbehave, is it because I told you to?” you huffed, not caring that his face was closer to yours now.
He smirked slowly as his eyes outlined your face. “Obviously,” he shrugged lightly. He finally closed the space between your lips and his, kissing you tenderly. “I always behave. While you, on the other hand…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, his gaze dipping to look at your lips briefly before he kissed you again. You smiled into the kiss, despite it being chaste in the way that he was only pressing his lips to yours repeatedly, creating soft, wet noises that only incited you to get more.
“Babe,” you muttered, laughing sweetly. “Kiss me properly,” you told him.
Jeonghan didn’t waste a second. Repositioning his hands around your face, he only leaned in, locking his lips with yours. His kiss was soft, but slow, wet, and so full of heat. You closed your eyes and let him dominate the kiss, parting your mouth when you felt the tip of his tongue swipe your bottom lip, and then you felt his tongue against yours.
Your legs tensed as an automatic response, a shot of arousal coursing through you like lightning. His hands switched from cupping your cheeks to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. That made a silent moan bubble in your mouth, so you grabbed him by the belt in his jeans, pulling him closer to you.
Jeonghan grunted in your mouth and then pushed you to the kitchen counter by simply taking two steps forward, making you take two steps back. His lips took yours with more vehemency now, kissing you deeply, with a very unique urgency. It made you lose control, it made you feel hot all over.
So you pulled back, but not far. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” you said breathily, running a hand over his clothed chest.
Jeonghan smiled, making you think that he’d say something about your nervousness again. But he grabbed your hand, “Alright,” he said, and then he pulled you in the direction of his bedroom.
Whenever you stayed the night, you would wear Jeonghan’s clothes—mostly oversized t-shirts and sometimes sporty shorts. So much so that you’d noticed Jeonghan kept the clothes he’d lent you in a particular spot in his closet, making you suspect that he probably had stopped wearing them, only to keep them clean in case you came to stay the night.
Your gut twisted when Jeonghan pulled the same oversized t-shirt and handed it to you. “You know, you could bring some stuff in. I’ll empty a drawer for you,” he mumbled, turning on the bedside lamp.
He always said something akin to those words whenever he had the opportunity. It reminded you of his other request—of moving in. “Yeah, I’ll bring some spare pyjamas,” you replied nervously, turning on your feet to start unbuttoning your shirt.
“And maybe clothes for work?” he asked, and you could hear the hint of hope in his tone.
You already had a toothbrush and makeup remover wipes that you once bought to keep in Jeonghan’s bathroom. That time you’d also felt you were stepping over a line, for some reason. But Jeonghan thought it was endearing that you had asked him for permission beforehand. You don’t have to ask, he told you every time.
“Yeah, that too,” you replied, sounding short of breath. When finished unbuttoning your shirt, you threw a look behind you, seeing that Jeonghan had just turned his gaze elsewhere in that instant. You smiled to yourself, noticing that he, too, was acting strange, fidgety.
Or perhaps it was just staying behind the line you always painted. That was another thing that drove you crazy about this man—he always waited for your word. But he kept a keen eye on you, certainly making sure that you were not having trouble initiating. And this time was no different.
You liked Jeonghan. No, you loved him. And tonight, with all those questions roaming about in your mind, questions about moving in, taking care of Sohee, meeting her mother… You were simply too much in your head.
And Jeonghan knew.
After brushing your teeth and cleaning your makeup off, you slid into the bed beside him. He was eyeing you and the screen of his phone back and forth, waiting for you. “Ready?” he asked.
Your stomach twisted again. “Huh?”
Jeonghan smiled at you. “To sleep?” he added.
“Ah. Yes. Oh, yeah,” you stuttered nervously, scooting closer to him.
Jeonghan left the phone on the bedside table and turned the lamp off. He turned around, draping an arm around your waist as you also turned, forming up a spooning situation where he was the bigger spoon. He kissed your shoulder over his clothes, and then your cheek.
“Did you have a good day at work?” he asked, his tone soft and low.
You blinked, turning slightly to look at him. “Yeah. Why?” you asked.
He shrugged. “Hopefully I didn’t distract you too much with my stupid phone call,” he said.
Your heart softened. “It was okay, babe. Today's work was nothing out of the ordinary,” you told him, and then showed him a playful smile. “And I love your phone calls.”
“No matter how inopportune they are?” he asked, his tone waning ever so softly.
You nodded. “They never are. Stupid or inopportune,” you replied, your tone waning too.
He paused, looking briefly at your lips before bringing a hand to pinch your chin softly. “Where were you my whole life?” he asked.
Your heart could burst. You wanted to say a million things to him. You wanted to tell him how you fell in love with him at first glance, you wanted to tell him you loved him.
But you choked up. “I could say the same,” you whispered. And you weren’t lying—despite having had other boyfriends in the past, you had never ever felt love like this in your life. It only made you think that Jeonghan hadn’t either. And the thought broke your heart.
He smiled, moving his head so he could touch your forehead with his. “I’m never letting you go, you hear me?” he said.
You nodded. “Never.” Please.
You and Jeonghan fell asleep shortly after that, going back to your original spooning position. He wrapped an arm around you, and you snuggled close to him under the covers. Sleeping with him was extraordinarily good—he never moved, never snored, and you were careful not to disrupt his sleeping either.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, you felt him stir and slip out of bed. You became too conscious about it because the bed grew colder around you, and it was getting harder to go back to sleep.
You turned over, thinking that you might’ve done something to wake him up. But he was nowhere to be seen. “Jeonghan?” you called.
He stepped into the bedroom, carefully leaving the door ajar. “Did I wake you?” he asked, his tone low.
You watched him as he came back to bed. “What’s wrong?” you asked instead.
He sucked in a breath when he felt your warm body, as though he had been exposed to a chill temperature. “Sohee’s mother called.”
“This late?” you asked. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’s fine. I suppose she didn’t look up what our time zone was before calling,” he explained calmly.
“Well, what did she have to say?” you asked, feeling sharply awake now.
He slipped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him. His clothes were cold, as well as his skin. He was probably having the phone call outside on the balcony so as not to wake you or Sohee up. “A bunch of nothings. She cancelled Thursday’s plan. Said she’ll be meeting us at the party.”
You couldn’t help but feel relieved. “Did she say why?”
Jeonghan shrugged. “Yeah. But it was all an excuse.”
Something inside you deflated with shame. Here you were, feeling relieved that you wouldn’t meet Soomin a day sooner; meanwhile, that also meant that Sohee wouldn’t see her mom either until the party. And Jeonghan’s lower tone reflected that pity.
“I’m sorry, babe,” you murmured.
“It’s fine. I had expected something like that,” he replied, but you could still hear the hurt in his tone. “She promised she’d be here for Sohee’s birthday. So, I’ll take whatever at this point.”
Now, you were even more reluctant to meet her. Your gut twisted, but before you could even process what type of feeling you were having, Jeonghan kissed your brow, easing the storm cooking up in your mind.
“Shall we go back to sleep, beautiful?” he whispered, moving his lips to kiss your eyelid, then your cheekbone.
Jeonghan was so sweet, so loving, that it scrambled your brains to think how he was yours.
His lips reached your cheek, and you moved your face so that the next kiss landed on your lips. He planted a sweet kiss, but then you parted your mouth, trapping his bottom lip in. You kissed him deeply, trying to put all of your feelings into one single kiss.
You wanted to show him that you were madly in love with him without having to say the words. You kissed him with such force that had him moaning in your mouth. He said nothing, only letting you lead as you pushed him by the shoulders, wordlessly telling him to lie on his back.
He gave you one confused look that quickly evaporated once you straddled him. His hands snaked on your thighs as you bent forward, taking his face in your hands to kiss him, moaning on his lips once his fingertips grazed the lace hem of your panties. The sound only gave him the green light to continue, exploring your skin with the pads of his fingers as he hiked the t-shirt up your torso.
You pulled back, but only to let him take the t-shirt off, leaving you only in your panties, and your chest bare for his view. His gaze roamed all over your bare skin, but it was for just a moment. You leaned in again, his hands latching to your waist, while the other fisted your hair by the side of your head.
You shifted on your knees, grounding your hips down on him—but just barely. Jeonghan was already hard, and you could feel him just by moving on top of him a little.
Dragging your fingernails down his chest, you crawled back to give yourself space to pull his shorts down. Your fingers hooked around the waistband of both his boxers and shorts, and you pulled, uncovering an inch of skin as one of your fingers traced a line over his thin but dark, happy trail.
Jeonghan sucked in a breath—but this time it was because of something else. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled, looking at your hands as you pulled his cock out, grabbing it with your other hand.
“Mn?” You raised your gaze to him.
His hands slipped on your hips, clutching you gently as you lifted them to move your panty line aside. “Condom?” he mumbled, groaning and clenching his jaw as you guided the head of his cock down your folds.
You pretended not to hear, lowering your hips and slipping him inside your warm walls, all in one go. And fuck, he was perfect—his cock was perfect too. The feeling of having him raw and stretching your pussy was the sweetest feeling you’ve ever felt. Your mouth fell open, eyebrows drawn together as you started bouncing on him gently.
“Fuck,” Jeonghan gasped, closing his eyes before sinking his head back on his pillow.
You anchored your hands on his chest, using him as support to roll your hips on top of him. And yet again, you wondered what the scene would look like—middle of the night, his pants halfway pulled down, you bouncing on top of him with your panties still on and trying your best to be quiet.
But it was nearly impossible. Jeonghan moved his hands from your hips, palming your breasts and caressing your pebbled nipples with the pad of his thumbs. You clenched your teeth together, letting out a soft whine as you ground your hips on him, trying to take his cock deeper into you.
“Quiet, baby,” he said, smirking. But then he moved his hands, one to your hip, the other on your lower abdomen. He pushed your panties further aside, pressing your lower belly with his palm before starting to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb.
“Fuck—Daddy,” you mewled, hips buckling on top of him.
“Do you like that?” he asked, his tone low. He glanced at your face once before his gaze dipped to your cunt, moaning at the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.
You nodded, picking up the pace of your hips. The pad of his thumb rubbed your clit steadily, not switching, unstopping. It was driving you closer to the edge with every second that passed, making your walls tighten around his girth.
“Is this what you wanted, baby? Daddy’s cock?” he asked with that lazy smile still on his face, his tone raw, but waning.
It drove you insane—the switch from being sweet and gentle to talking to you like that. “Mm-mmph,” you admitted.
He tilted his head back slightly, teeth clenched tightly as he tried to exert some control on himself. But as you continued rolling your hips on top of him, you saw him starting to fall apart—his eyes went white before he squeezed them shut. And then, he made a sound, a long, raspy moan that was stuck in his throat. “Baby, I’m not going to last long,” he said.
It was your turn to smile now. “That’s okay, Daddy,” you told him sweetly, and then you tilted your head, showing him a playful side. “I could slow down for you.”
Jeonghan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. “I don’t think that’ll make a difference,” he gritted, smiling despite himself.
His hands switched to your sides, lifting your hips with one powerful groan that rumbled in his chest. The sound made your pulse quicken, and your gaze immediately shot to the door, as though trying to fish for any kind of sounds coming from down the hall.
Jeonghan acted quickly—rolling your back onto the mattress effortlessly. A gasp spilled from your mouth, eyes locking with his as he slid your panties down your legs. And then he crawled between your thighs before taking his t-shirt off.
“We should be quiet,” you told him, smiling shyly as he placed his palms on your knees, pushing your thighs up to your chest.
“Let’s see how long you can do that,” he replied, letting out a tired giggle.
And he had a point about that. Last time you and Jeonghan had sex, you had been so noisy that the downstairs neighbors made some tacit remarks about a creaky bedframe. So you watched as Jeonghan grabbed a pillow, probably thinking the same as you and placed it behind the headboard.
“Can’t make any promises,” you mumbled, still looking as he pulled his shorts and boxers down, taking his hard cock in one hand and guiding it to your drenched pussy. You swallowed hard, holding your breath as the crown of his cock nuzzled against your entrance, and then he slipped inside you, so fucking slow.
You couldn’t resist it. The sight of his length disappearing in your mound was alluring, and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside you was even more delicious than riding him. He pushed your thighs to the sides of your ribs by climbing on top of you, so he was now fully pressing your body with his.
Jeonghan smiled. “See? Didn’t last long,” he said, hearing your soft whines as he bottomed out inside you.
“Fuck—daddy,” you gritted, breathing hard under the weight of his body, but you loved it. “Move, please, move.”
You didn’t need to beg—he did it right away, pulling back to push right in, creating a steady pace effortlessly. He framed your face with his forearms, his face so close to yours that he only leaned slightly to get a swift kiss. You cupped his head in your hands, lifting your head so you could kiss him deeper, earning a soft moan from him.
It was truly suffocating. The warmth of his body, being so close to him. Looking into his eyes as he claimed your body like it was his. It overwhelmed you—the need to be his woman and have him like this every night, forever. You were going insane with the mere thought—waves of love and lust coursed through you uncontrollably.
The room became flooded with the muffled sounds of pleasure—the small whines you made, the short moans Jeonghan let out in between tired breaths, and the very obvious creaking of the bedframe despite the headboard having a pillow to not slam against the wall.
You loved it. Loved how you both had fallen into an addiction of silent quickies in the middle of the night, stifling moans and speaking filth in hushed tones. The sheer adrenaline of trying and failing to be quiet made you wet. You could even catch the slippery sound of your arousal as Jeonghan pushed his cock deep inside you.
“God,” you gasped when he picked up a pace, fucking you faster, still massaging that glorious spot inside your walls.
And you let pleasure bloom inside your body with a hot, intense shiver. Long ago, it was so rare that you’d cum with penetration alone—but somehow Jeonghan always made you cum like that, effortlessly. Your mouth dropped open, almost tasting your orgasm on the tip of your tongue.
“You close?” he asked with sharp, ragged breaths. He gave you a dazed look, outlining your features with his gaze. When you nodded, he gave you another light smile. “Let go, baby.”
You stared into his eyes, watched him as his jaw twitched when he ground his teeth down—you noticed he was close too. “Cum with me?” you asked, cheeks turning hot as you heard how fucking sweet you sounded.
Oh, you were in love. You had come to this realization a while ago, but now it was becoming more and more unbearable. Your mind spun with questions—did Jeonghan know? Could he see it in your eyes? Hear it in your tone? There you were, riddled with questions while you were begging for him to cum with you, and he wasn’t wearing a condom.
“You’re cumming first, Babygirl,” he replied, his tone waning.
You could’ve sworn that he had a way to hear your thoughts, but you didn’t let that distract you—because you were instantly swept over by an intense wave of pleasure. A gasp tore from your chest, and before you could let out a scream, Jeonghan crushed his mouth against yours, drowning out your sounds of pleasure.
He continued thrusting in that same calculated pace until you became a puddle of pleasure. You were wet. Sweaty, hot, and quivering on his bedsheets. And he was kissing you softly, passionately, like he hadn’t done before.
“Felt good?” he mumbled.
You nodded. “Amazing,” you drawled sweetly.
“Good,” he mouthed, the muscles of his face tightening, like he was in pain—he was close.
Your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t pull out,” you said.
He blinked, his gaze finding you instantly.
“Please,” you whispered, linking your wrists behind his nape, as though trying to hold him right there.
He blinked slowly and then let his forehead rest on top of yours. “Fuck,” he sighed, pushing his hips against yours with tight, deep thrusts. You closed your eyes as another euphoric rush gripped your body wholly. “God—fuck, baby,” Jeonghan drawled, letting out a raw, quiet moan as he gave you a final push, his cock twitching in your walls as he spilled himself deep inside you.
Jeonghan remained there, breathing fitfully, his body completely glued to yours as though unable to move. And then you wished you’d known what to say next. You wished you knew what to do or say after making love. So instead, you moved your face, finding his lips with your own. You kissed him slowly, trying to convey the quick rhythm of your heart, the butterflies swarming inside your chest.
He pressed his lips against the corner of yours, then he kissed your cheek. “You’re okay?” he whispered, gently pushing the tip of your nose with his before pressing another kiss against your lips.
Your heart gave another leap. “Yeah,” you mumbled shakily. “We should probably get ready to sleep. You have work tomorrow.”
Jeonghan pulled back, blinking at you confusedly. “Yeah. Sure,” he replied, his gaze outlining your features. “But after I’ve taken care of you, baby.”
And when he peeled off your body, you knew you had made a mistake. You felt foolish then, because this man was clearly thrown off by the switch in your tone, confused by your evident refusal to talk about what was going on in your mind.
But he took care of you with the utmost gentleness, offering to start a shower for you, which you declined due to how late into the night it was. However, you cleaned up in the bathroom, and when you came out, he had a glass full of water ready on the bedside table, and he’d already changed the bedsheets.
“I put your clothes in the washing machine and programmed it for a quick start early in the morning,” he said thoughtfully as he unstuck the pillow behind the headboard. “They should be clean and dry by the time we both get up.”
It made you smile—the very careful manner in which he was fluffing the pillows as you approached the bed. “Thank you, babe,” you replied, feeling your heart warm up.
“Don’t thank me,” he whispered, lifting his head as you stood beside him before the bed. “Hopefully you will remember to bring in some spare clothes next time?” he insisted, smiling shyly about something, and then— “Sorry. I keep bringing it up.”
Your heart deflated. “Don’t apologize,” you replied, placing your palm on his side, feeling the muscle of his abdomen contract at your touch. “I’ll remember to bring some stuff in. I promise.”
“Okay,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand and taking it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go to sleep.”
You nodded, climbing back on the bed and snuggling him close. Jeonghan wrapped your waist with one arm, the little crook beneath your earlobe.
Your heart fluttered. “Do we already have a cake?” you asked suddenly.
Jeonghan pulled back. “What?” he mumbled.
You turned slightly. “For Sohee’s party. Did you order a cake?”
His brow creased. “Yes. Why?” he asked curiously.
You turned again, face to your pillow. “It’s nothing. I can bake really good chocolate cakes,” you gave him a light shrug. “Thought I could help with something.”
Jeonghan smiled; you felt the change in his breath on your neck, making you shiver. “I’ll remember that,” he said, pressing his lips to the first spot of skin he could find. “For her fourth birthday.”
The knot in your tummy twisted harder. “Yeah…” you trailed off, deciding to snuggle closer to him, silently telling him to hold you tighter to his body.
“Sleep well, pretty,” he whispered, unaware of the shift happening in you.
Your head was about to blow up. You were sure. And every time you blew air out of your lungs, your abdomen screamed in pain and exhaustion.
“Perhaps I’m not made for this,” you mumbled to yourself quietly, wrapping the bead around your fingers to secure a tight knot, and then proceeded to put tape on one side of it, sticking it to the wall.
You had successfully decorated the side of the dining room that had the most cleared space for it. There perched a big and colorful daisy of white and light blue petals, with a Happy B-day Sohee sign sitting in the centre in baby pink colors, made by your hand. You had pulled out your party decorating skills, which you had put away since entering college, but they came in handy the moment you realized Jeonghan wasn’t planning on decorating.
“Okay,” you sighed tiredly, looking at the wall. Now that you had one task done, you needed to tend to the other two tasks you had set for yourself.
Task number one was decorating, done. Task number two was tidying up the place for the guests. And task number three was psyching yourself up for meeting your boyfriend’s ex, and the mother of his daughter.
Your stomach did that thing again—it felt like some deep part of you protested against what you had ahead for you, and it wanted to draw your attention to it by stabbing you right in the gut.
But you went ahead and tidied the place up—putting toys where they belonged, folding blankets and taking them to the bedrooms, cleaning the kitchen counters, and setting the table just nicely.
Two hours had passed since you’d arrived at Jeonghan’s place, and all of your tasks were done. You realized you could sneak fifteen minutes of mirror talk and touching up your makeup before Jeonghan and Sohee arrived back home.
When you came out of the bathroom, you felt like something was shaking inside your veins, leaving a trail of prickled nerves in its wake. But you took a deep breath—catching the sweet smell of vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon from the birthday cake set in the centre of the round dining table. You outlined the entire space with your gaze, mentally checking every single item you told Jeonghan you were in charge of getting for the party.
Balloons. Fruit tray. Candy tray. Banana milk. Peach drinks (Sohee’s favorite), candles and goodie bags, which were dinosaur themed.
The smart lock of the main door clicked and beeped, making your stomach contract and your nerves fire up in different directions inside your limbs. Jeonghan was crossing the door carrying a backpack on one shoulder, gift bags hanging on the same arm he was carrying Sohee with.
“Hello, you two,” you chirped, anxiety instantly swept when you saw Sohee’s adorable face. “What took you so long?”
“Sohee’s teachers,” Jeonghan exhaled tiredly, closing the door behind him and watching you approach him and Sohee. “They had a lot to say to me. One of them even got emotional.”
“And what did they have to say?” you asked, eyes set on the little girl perched on her father’s arm.
“Oh, just how much they appreciate Sohee,” he replied, bumping his daughter on his arm and turning to her. “They said you were the best girl, right? The smartest, kindest and friendliest. She’s been pretty talkative at school,” he added at the end, giving you a meaningful glance.
You made a shocked expression. “Is that true?” you asked, and then giggled at the sound of your own voice.
Sohee was listening to the conversation while she chewed on the tip of her index finger. But she nodded intently.
“They gave her a couple of presents,” Jeonghan said, gesturing to the gift bags on his arm. “Some of them were from her friends, two of them were from her teachers.”
You took one glance at the gift bags. “Oh, shoot,” you muttered.
“What?” Jeonghan said, brow furrowing.
“I forgot the present I got for her back in my apartment,” you said dispiritedly. But you turned to Sohee, extending your hands at her. “Hi, sweetheart!”
Sohee inclined her little body forward, just as you grabbed her by the torso and wrapped her around your hip. The movement was so natural that it went almost unnoticed, but it was Jeonghan’s gaze, the way he blinked, and his eyes lit up as he looked at his daughter, pointing at the wall behind you.
“That’s okay, we can go get it tomorrow morning,” Jeonghan mumbled faintly, still looking at his daughter perched now on your hip.
“Mn,” Sohee hummed softly, kicking her legs up in the air and pointing at the wall slightly harder.
“Oh, right,” you turned on your feet, taking the baby girl to the living room area so she could see the wall decorations. “We made this for you, kiddo,” you chirped, looking at her pretty face.
She pointed again.
“D’you like it?” you whispered, heart warming up at the sight of her sweet brown eyes taking in the big daisy on the wall.
She nodded aloofly. And then kicked her legs, pointing them to the floor.
“Alrighty,” you mumbled, carefully setting her on the floor. You watched her run joyfully to her bedroom, perhaps to get something, a toy for her to show you.
But then you turned, catching Jeonghan still staring at you, hands deep in his pockets, head tilted to one side. But it was the tenderness in his eyes that made your heart flip in that same rhythm as before—the one you had been so keen on avoiding, but was becoming unbearable.
“Do you like it?” you parroted, showing him the wall with your hands. You exhaled, trying to calm your nerves down—but it was futile.
“I love it,” he replied with a warm tone coating his words. Then he approached you with a slow step, slipping a hand on your waist to pull you closer to his frame. He leaned his head forward, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
A vehement shudder crossed your entire body, and you let your eyelids fall closed as he planted another kiss on your forehead, this time longer. The words he said were ones you knew your heart was aching to hear—but the noise inside your head didn’t let you form a response.
The doorbell rang loudly, making you cringe visibly and turn to the door. “I’ll get it,” you said, slipping out of his embrace.
“No, I’ll get it,” Jeonghan said kindly.
“Then I’ll go get the birthday girl,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t feel too stiff on your face—but your heart was going a thousand miles per second.
Jeonghan caught something in your face, his eyes outlining your features before you turned around and hurried down the hall and to the toddler’s bedroom.
Sohee was playing with the new dinosaurs that her father had gotten for her birthday. She already got them all lined up on the colorful bookshelf in one corner of the room. Your stomach twisted with cuteness overload when you heard the tiny noises she was making for a triceratops as she made it stomp across the shelf.
“Hey kiddo,” you cooed, approaching her and crouching behind her. “Your friends are here. Do you want to come with me and greet them?”
She turned around and directed a steady look at your face. “Yeap,” she nodded happily, taking another dinosaur in her fist and running out of the room, squealing like she knew she was the star of the day.
You rose, and with a big sigh, you followed the toddler down to the dining room. You greeted the guests, parents of Sohee’s friends from daycare. And before you knew it, the party had already started, and it was going smoothly.
You made light conversation as you got juice boxes for all the kids, who weren’t many, but they felt like a massive multitude when they were swarming around you trying to get juice boxes and goodie bags.
“Alright, alright!” you laughed, holding up both hands. “Everyone will get one, I promise!” you said while handing a goodie bag to each kid.
You felt a hand on the small of your back. “That includes me?” Jeonghan asked close to your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek.
You leaned into the kiss. “If you behave, I’ll consider it,” you replied warmly.
“Mmn,” he hummed, pressing another loving kiss. “You know you’re all I want.”
Your heart stammered, making you blink and find his eyes. Your tongue twisted, and you wished you had been quick enough to quip back something as enticing—but it was already too late. The doorbell rang again, but this time, neither you nor Jeonghan had to go get it.
It was Sohee’s mother, Soomin. She had only rung the doorbell to announce her arrival, since she knew the combination to the smart lock—a thing you had thought only you and Jeonghan knew, but you were proven wrong.
The person who crossed the door was entirely not what you had imagined. In all the scenarios where you had pictured yourself meeting Jeonghan’s ex and the mother of his child, you’d never imagined that it would be like this.
Soomin was beautiful. She was tall and had a bright smile as she crossed the door. “Where’s my girl?” she shouted from across the apartment, and your poor heart fell to your stomach when you saw Jeonghan smile widely.
“Oh, thank god,” he mumbled beside you. He ran quickly to his daughter, snatching her from the floor and making her squeal with the abrupt movement. Sohee laughed, drawing the attention of the room as Jeonghan carried her to see her mother. “Sohee baby, mom’s here!”
“Hi, peanut,” Soomin said in a high-pitched tone. “Happy birthday, sweetheart! Mommy is here,” she said, and then she leaned towards Sohee, who was sitting in Jeonghan’s arms.
But Sohee recoiled, turning her back to her mother. It was only natural, you thought, since the child barely recognized the face in front of her. But the scene before you hurt to watch either way. Jeonghan bounced the toddler in his arms, trying to drag her attention back to Soomin, who was getting something out of her leather handbag.
“Look what mommy got for you!” Soomin said, still speaking in that faux sweet tone. “Look!”
Sohee turned to see her mother getting a red gift bag, small enough that it fit inside the slick black leather bag. Sohee stared at it for a hard second before extending her hand and grabbing it, and then she proceeded to kick her legs to the floor.
“Alright,” Jeonghan said, putting the toddler back on the floor.
Sohee ran freely, and back to her little friends. Your gaze followed back to Jeonghan, who greeted Soomin with a very dry hey, but then approached to give her a quick hug, devoid of all kinds of affection. It was almost like neither of them knew how to treat each other anymore.
“Wow, you really went out this time,” Soomin said, looking at the decorations, the birthday cake carefully set in the centre of the table, birthday plates piled up, and trays of fruit and candy already about to empty.
“Oh, it was all her,” Jeonghan said, extending an arm towards you almost ceremoniously.
Your heart warmed up at the gesture, but your nerves had eaten you up already. You approached them with a stiff step until Jeonghan wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you up to his side, showing you off proudly.
“So I can put a face to the name, finally,” Soomin said, showing you a dashing smile. She extended a hand towards you. “I’m Soomin, Sohee’s mother.”
You took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” you said, smiling at her politely.
At that exact second, one of the little kids had pulled one of the candy trays from the table and thrown the candy all over the floor. “Oh—” you uttered, motioning to go clean the candy from the floor.
“I’ll get it,” Jeonghan said, giving you a quick but reassuring look. And then he said to you, “I’ll be back, baby.”
And you knew he didn’t want to leave you alone with his ex, but he also didn’t want you to go and clean up the floor. So you stood there, anxiously watching as Jeonghan picked the candies and put them back on the tray one by one.
“Can I help with anything?” Soomin asked, more for decency than true intentions of helping.
“Nope,” you said awkwardly. “Everything’s set up.”
Soomin leaned her head to one side slightly before throwing one glance to the kids playing with Sohee. “You’ve done a lot already.”
“It’s not that big of a party,” you said, shrugging.
She smiled faintly, and you knew what she was looking at. “It’s big enough,” she said faintly.
You followed her gaze, finding Sohee playing with one of her little friends. They were both sharing a soundboard that someone at the party had gifted her.
“She’s shy, isn’t she?” Soomin said, her tone was devoid of snark, but then she added, “Kind of like her father.”
Although the comment wasn’t ill-natured, it hurt your heart to hear it. “She just takes a minute,” you replied, wishing you hadn’t sounded so harsh towards Soomin. But your heart was beating frantically, making you afraid that it was going to jump out of your chest.
And then you watched as Soomin’s gaze went around the room again, stopping on the wall behind you. Her dark brown eyes went over the balloons forming a giant daisy, and the big birthday sign made by you.
“You’re really good with her,” Soomin said after a moment. Her eyes found you. “Jeonghan has told me about you.”
Your tummy clenched. “I care about her.”
“I can tell,” she replied, and then you caught an edge in her tone. And then added, softer, “Not everyone would step into something like this.”
You frowned. “Like what?”
Soomin raised her eyebrows, gesturing around the apartment, the toddlers. “Well, a life that’s already in progress, you know what I mean?”
You told yourself that the words were neutral. Nothing was targeted towards you. But it still felt like it was.
You forced a smile. “I didn’t see it that way.”
Soomin’s expression didn’t change; it was as though she were having a great time talking with you. “That’s probably why you’ve made it work. It was really brave of you to have stepped in. To do what I couldn’t.”
Your stomach clenched again, and your mouth twitched like you were about to tell her something you’d regret.
“Baby! Where are the candles?” Jeonghan called from the kitchen.
You exhaled, glad. “Excuse me,” you said, and as you walked away, you felt Soomin’s gaze on you, following you.
Your ears were ringing, anger still boiling inside you. Jeonghan was closing a drawer, his expression hardening at once as he took one look at you. “Everything okay there, beautiful?” he asked, glancing towards the living room.
You could still feel Soomin’s eyes on you. You nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, trying to mask your anger. You would talk about it with him later.
His eyes outlined your expression. “Sure?”
“Sure,” you said, opening the top cabinet and then handing him the pack with green and pink candles in it.
Jeonghan grabbed the candles, sighing. “Looks like the party is going well,” he said, giving you a hopeful smile and glimmering eyes.
Despite the rage still tightening your stomach, you smiled at him. “Sohee’s happy,” you said, casting a look at Sohee. “I’ll go get her,” you told him, turning around and walking towards Sohee.
The toddler was happily focused on her toys and her little friends. Her eyes were wide and glimmering in excitement, and candy wrappers were spread all across the floor. Something caught your eye—a red, unopened gift bag, forgotten in one corner of the living room.
“Princess, come here,” you called softly, crouching behind her to see her at eye level. “Do you want cake?”
The question caught her attention immediately, making her turn around and face you. You stretched your hands to her, and she silently responded by stretching her little arms to you. You grabbed her, standing up to secure her at your hip, and she instantly wrapped her legs around you.
“Oh, I got her. Let me.”
Soomin was already behind you, showing you her palms so you could transfer Sohee to her grip. A pang of jealousy sank deep inside your belly, making you want to hold Sohee closer to your body, almost like a protective defence mechanism.
You conceded, though begrudgingly. “Of course,” you replied, but there was no way you could hide the disappointment in your tone.
With a fretful pain lacing your heart, you handed Sohee over to her mother. The toddler kicked her legs anxiously and turned to look at you as though trying to understand she wasn’t in your arms anymore. And with little control over yourself, you glanced in Jeonghan’s direction, almost as knowing he’d be looking. He had watched the whole exchange from afar, and he immediately recognized the dispirited look on your face, because all he did was offer you a solemn smile.
It made your blood boil. What else could he do? A tiny voice called inside your head. You’re not Sohee’s mother. The voice said with painful regret.
It was the truth. No matter how bad it hurt, you weren’t Sohee’s mother. And you were getting attached to her—attached to this life without having a true anchor to it.
And the thought ruined the rest of the night for you.
So you watched as Soomin sat on the table with Sohee sitting on her lap, the toddler forgot about the anxiety of being with a stranger as soon as Jeonghan stepped beside the chair and lit up the candles on the cake.
You debated whether to step closer or just watch from afar. The candles you had picked for Sohee’s cake were green and pink, and a single sparkling candle that, once Jeonghan got to light it up, stole the attention of the toddler. Her big, brown eyes glimmered in the dark against the sparkles that flew up to the ceiling, and instead of gasping or crying out as the other kids did, Sohee just stared at it, fascination spread across her face, parting her little lips.
Your stomach twisted in adoration. And you couldn’t resist it. You pulled out your phone and hit the record button, determined to save this little moment forever—even if in real life it only lasted about fifty seconds.
Sohee was happy. She ate cake happily, shared her toys with her friends and seemed to be getting better at talking with others. And that was the only shining light in your night.
By the time that all the guests had left, the apartment didn’t look as wrecked as you half expected it to be after hosting about fifteen people in it. The paper plates were stacked in a crooked tower, forks and spoons piled next to it on the kitchen counter, breadcrumbs spread all over the surface. There were plastic cups everywhere, toys, gift bags and confetti all over the living room floor.
The front door opened, and Jeonghan slipped inside the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him. The minute he stepped in, you decided to busy yourself by looking for a large trash bag that you had left somewhere in the kitchen.
“Well, that’s everyone,” Jeonghan said, pleased that all of the guests had gone home. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
You started shoving trash into the bag as quickly as you could without making too much noise, and you were half glad that there was so much to do before you went home because you needed to think.
But Jeonghan had already noticed you were in a mood, and you could feel him hovering in the kitchen, trying to get a read on you. “The party went really well. Everyone had a lot of fun,” he said, his tone gentle.
You were grabbing a bunch of plastic cups in one hand, throwing them inside the bag without caring that they were still half full. “Yeah. Sure,” you huffed, continuing to clean the dining table.
The silence that followed was truly unsettling, making you weigh on the tone you had used and the manner in which you were moving. You were stepping out of control, and you didn’t care where you were taking this conversation.
By the time you found the courage to raise your gaze, you found Jeonghan frowning at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Air left your lungs like you were suddenly punched in the chest. “Did you have fun today?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “Because I didn’t.”
Jeonghan’s frown didn’t ease; he was confused. But his gaze softened, showing you worry. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone dropping when he added, “Did something happen?”
You left the bag aside on the floor, dropping your arms at your sides in a defeated manner. “I mean, I spent the entire evening running around, trying to make sure everything worked,” you said, gesturing around you. “I made the food, drinks, decorations, and cleanup. I didn’t have the chance to sit down once.”
Jeonghan blinked. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
You sighed. “That’s easy to say now.”
He shifted his weight, motioning to approach you. “That’s not what I meant—”
“I know,” you cut him off, putting a hand between him and you. “I know you meant it nicely.”
You could feel the waves of emotion coming closer, coming to get you. And your body acted off of instinct, picking up one stray napkin on the table and folding it in half, almost as though preparing yourself to have something in your hand for when you started crying.
With a tearless sob, you added. “It would’ve been nice if someone had noticed while it was happening.”
Jeonghan’s frown disappeared. “I noticed.”
“Did you?” you asked, still holding your emotions back.
“Of course I did,” he said, his tone dropping to an even gentler one.
But you could still feel the tears prickling in your eyes, everything you held back making you taste them in your tongue. “Then why was I still doing everything while everyone else was enjoying the party?”
Jeonghan tilted his head to one side, looking at you as though finding you endearing that you were about to cry for something like this, but still approached you with caution. “Why didn’t you ask for help?” he said, and then he hesitated, almost as though wanting to take back his words, so he added instead, “I was busy with things as well, I thought we were both busy, baby.”
You deadpanned to him. “You really didn’t think I wanted to enjoy the party too?”
He opened his mouth, his eyes widening as his mind started to reel, you knew it.
But you kept going. “I wanted to sit down with her when she opened her presents. Or be next to her when she blew out the candles. Honestly, Jeonghan, I felt like a guest at a party I helped throw. I couldn’t even hold Sohee for two minutes!”
His face fell in utter worry, his shoulders going slack. “Is this all because Soomin wanted to hold her?” he asked, his tone hollow, like he now couldn’t believe you were throwing a tantrum over this.
You let out an exasperated sigh. “No—! Yes! But it’s not only that!” you stammered.
Jeonghan stepped back, but just slightly, as though he wanted to take a good look at your face—disbelief still contorting his face. “Soomin was just trying to have a moment with her as well,” he shook his head. “I don’t see that as a bad thing. Maybe you’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” you asked, raising your tone.
And Jeonghan sighed. “Baby… she’s Sohee’s mother.”
It wasn’t necessarily cruel. His tone was devoid of venom, but it still hurt—like a bitter truth being forced down your bloodstream, burning and leaving an ache in its wake.
Your entire body shook before a powerful shudder. “Right,” you said slowly.
Jeonghan immediately realized the weight of his words, the pain translating in your features. “Wait—” he said, his jaw set tight as his eyes widened in worry. “Baby, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—”
You shook your head. “No, I get it,” you said, but your voice had lost all power, and the wall you had put between reason and emotions crumbled. Tears burst in your eyes, and a sob broke through your chest.
“You’re right. I’m not her mom,” you continued, giving him a brittle smile. “I never forgot that. Not for a second,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “You know, I keep reminding myself of that. Of where I stand.”
Jeonghan took another step towards you, this time more decisive. “Baby, you’re blowing this out of proportion,” he said, trying to be nice still, trying to figure out how to calm you down.
You looked down to wipe your tears. Confetti was spread all over the floor, and your stomach twisted at the thought of how this scene might appear from the outside. The apartment was a mess—gift bags, wrapping paper, candy, and new toys scattered across the living room. A half-eaten cake sat on the table, and balloons were stuck to the walls. The lights in the kitchen and living room remained on. You and Jeonghan were arguing, trying to keep your voices down so as not to disturb the little girl’s sleep.
You finally found the strength to look at him again. And when Jeonghan saw your tired face, fear replaced the worry in his eyes. He saw the determination in your eyes—he knew you well. “I think I’m going to go.”
Jeonghan sighed, motioning a step closer. “It’s late. Stay,” he said, his tone still wrapped in a careful gentleness.
You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jeonghan,” you said, your tone fading into a mere whisper. “I’m going home.”
He took a pause, studying you with his gaze roaming all over the features of your face, finding something in your eyes that made you wonder what you would look like. Because he seemed to lose all composure. “Baby, come on,” he said, his eyebrows drawn in. “We just had a fight. That doesn’t mean you need to leave.”
You sighed tiredly. “It wasn’t just a fight, Jeonghan,” you said calmly. All need to fight was gone now. You had lost. You shook your head. “I’m done.”
You turned around, heading towards the door. But you caught a glimpse of Jeonghan’s expression, the shock and worry making his eyes wide and glistening. “Baby.”
You grabbed your sweater and your handbag. The only two non-disposable belongings you had in his house.
“Baby,” he insisted again, more firmly now. “You’re not seriously leaving because of something I said.”
You paused, but you didn’t let the moment catch you in your determination. “It’s not just something you said. It’s a fact.”
Jeonghan stiffened, but words got stuck in his mouth, making his throat bob visibly.
You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob. And then all self-control slipped out of your hands. “Today I learned two things. One is that I was changing my whole life to fit into yours,” you told him, pulse quickening when you realized what you were doing, what you were breaking. “And the other thing is that I was the only one doing that.”
Jeonghan took a weak step towards you, his eyes showing the realization of what was about to happen. “We can still figure things out,” he whispered, eyes wide and glossy.
And something reminded you of how easy Soomin walked back into Jeonghan and Sohee’s life, how fleeting her presence was compared to the mess you had in your hands now. Your heart was breaking, and you couldn’t fit in your head how easy it was for her to walk out and walk back in. You envied that for a split second, because now you had a broken heart to fix.
Jeonghan still thought the problem was logical. And not something you had been wanting him to truly see.
You took in a deep breath. “Goodbye, Jeonghan,” you whispered, slipping out through the door and shutting it quietly behind you.
Coming back home to your apartment felt hauntingly out of the ordinary. It was as though you were stepping into a scene that had been put on pause. There was a forgotten glass of juice half empty on the kitchen counter, and you couldn’t remember leaving it there. The ironing board was standing in the middle of the living room, iron unplugged and in the holder—two things you had left there while in a hurry to get to your work in time. Plants all over the apartment were starting to wither, neglected.
A secondary instinct kicked in, telling you that at this hour you’d be helping Jeonghan tidy the place up while Sohee slept. You’d be stacking toys back into their place, folding blankets while Jeonghan did the dishes.
You closed your eyes slowly, finally hurting when you realized that you had walked out on all of it.
And your apartment didn’t feel like home.
You left your things on the counter and decided to plop down on the couch, face down against the cushions. Your pulse hadn’t slowed down since the moment you’d said goodbye to Jeonghan—and when you collapsed on the couch, you realized that you were crying. And you weren’t crying angry tears like when you were having a fight with Jeonghan, no.
You sobbed uncontrollably, tears kept coming and blurring your vision. And there was nothing in your mind except the memory of Jeonghan’s face when you walked out on him. You did the right thing, you told yourself, but your heart felt empty.
It had been the right thing. That much was true.
You loved Jeonghan. You loved Sohee.
Somewhere in the kitchen, you heard your phone buzzing, vibrating furiously inside your handbag. You ignored it. And you ignored it ten times all through the night, until it eventually ceased ringing.
Quiet settled around the empty apartment. An apartment that was yours, with all the things you built on your own. And the worst part is that it didn’t feel like home anymore. You kept wanting to reach for your car keys and leave somewhere.
Did you overreact? You wondered. I probably did blow everything out of proportion. You thought, remembering Soomin’s satisfied face when she told you that you were brave for stepping into her shoes.
Your chest tightened.
But you pushed it down.
The first twenty hours were hell.
That’s how Jeonghan felt. Like a long, gruelling torture that only pushed him to reflect.
The balloons on the wall had started to deflate, but he didn’t want to take them down. The rest of the things that you had prepared for the party had already been cleaned up, one thing that Jeonghan had done the morning after you left. It helped him think instead of bombarding your voicemail with messages pleading with you to call him back.
I could just go to her apartment, he thought. But he imagined the scene—Sohee on his arms as he begged you to come back. And he instantly pushed the idea away.
The apartment was awfully quiet. Until his phone started to vibrate on the dining table, making his stomach drop, and his hand reached for it instantly, thinking it was you, finally calling him back.
Soomin.
Jeonghan sighed, his heart deflating.
But then, a knock came to the front door. And for a moment, he thought he imagined it.
Then it came again. You knocked two quick times, deciding to step back from it and wait, clasping the gift bag with your hands. Standing there, your gaze fell out of focus, and inevitably started comparing the times you had stood there, how quickly Jeonghan would get to the door and welcome you in with open arms.
When Jeonghan finally opened the door, it was the first time you had seen him truly torn. It was normal for you to see him untidy after a long day at work, hair messy, unmade tie, untucked shirt, whatever. But no, this time was different. His face was darkened by the dark circles under his eyes, but it was the deep, conflicted sparkle in them that disheartened you completely.
“Hi,” you croaked, and cleared your throat nervously.
Jeonghan let out a quick sigh, running a palm down his mouth and chin before stepping aside, letting you in.
Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but silence was the last thing you had anticipated. But you stepped into the apartment anyway, immediately spotting the quietness, which could only indicate one thing.
“Where is she?” you muttered, turning around to see Jeonghan shutting the door behind him quietly.
“Asleep,” he told you quietly, leaning back against the door with his hands tucked behind his back. You noticed the tired look he gave you, but that wasn’t the only thing that consumed your attention wholly—he was wary. “I just put her to bed.”
Your heart squeezed one more time, and you gave him a reproachful look. “Oh, okay,” you sighed, looking at the green gift bag in your hands. “Then I’ll leave this with you. She’ll like it, I’m sure. It’s a—it’s an axolotl plushie,” you said, stammering over your words with the need to hurry and get this over with. You wanted to run back to your car and cry.
Jeonghan nodded, licking his lips in a way that told you he had a lot to say, but decided to remain quiet. See how things would unfold first.
But this wasn’t going according to your plans. Your eyes began to brim with tears, which you blinked away quite successfully. “I wanted to see her one last time. Say goodbye properly,” you told him, tone lowering as your throat closed up.
He leaned the back of his head against the door, and as he blinked slowly, you saw his walls crumble down. “I know,” he said, his tone lowered too. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly.
You saw him blink up, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “Is that why you put her to bed earlier than usual?” you asked keenly. “So I wouldn’t get to see her?”
Jeonghan nodded slowly, moving his arms and crossing them on his chest. “I didn’t want her to see this. I’m sorry,” he shrugged with a look of pity on his face. “But I think we should talk first.”
You felt your brow furrowing. “I thought we already talked, Jeonghan. Last night,” you said, feeling lost.
“Yeah, but last night you walked out on me,” he said, tilting his head to one side as his gaze changed, quickly being filled with disappointment and resentment. He pushed himself away from the door, approaching you with the same wariness.
“There was nothing left to say,” you muttered, trying to keep down the tight knot sitting in your throat.
“Really?” he gasped, stopping dead in his tracks just one step in front of you. His face had fallen in something that went far beyond resentment now, like uncontrolled exasperation and anger. “We could’ve solved things last night before you ended everything!”
Shame filled your bloodstream, coursing through your body and leaving your skin feeling hot and prickling with anger. You carefully set down the gift bag on the table, deciding to leave. “I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m second-best, Jeonghan. That’s why I walked out.”
It was as though you had slapped him in the face. He stepped back, blinking in a way that told you that your words had hurt him. But before you could have a confirmation on this, Jeonghan took another step, but now in your direction. “I didn’t treat you like second-best,” he replied, his face crumpling with hurt, and most shocking—you saw fear in his eyes.
“No? I was trying to make everything perfect for Sohee. And by the end of it, what did I get? Your ex walking all over me like I’m her stand-in!” you blurted, words coming out raw and shaky. But you were glad that, despite the overwhelming need to cry, you could still speak what troubled your heart.
Jeonghan looked at you like he was finally seeing the truth. Almost as though he had willingly blindfolded himself throughout the party last night, but now, he finally saw something he didn’t want to.
So, with heat flooding your chest, you continued, “You truly didn’t notice, Jeonghan? The tacit remarks she’d make? Or when I wanted to hold Sohee and she would casually step in? Or what about the moment she told me I was brave for doing what she couldn’t?” you said. Your throat tightened, anger burning as tears finally spilled. You wiped them angrily, refusing to look away.
“She said that?” he said with an empty look in his eyes as his shoulders sagged a little. “I didn’t hear her. I actually thought she was being nice. For once.”
“Maybe you didn’t want to see it because she was being nice to you,” you accused, crossing your arms to hold yourself steady. Or to protect yourself. “That’s myproblem. She doesn’t have to fight for a space!”
“That’s not fair. You don’t have to fight for a space—”
“No, but I do,” you interrupted, blood heating up after remembering how it felt. “And what’s not fair was pretending she was being nice. She knew exactly what she was doing, and whether you meant it or not, you let her.”
“I should’ve known she would do things when I wasn’t looking,” Jeonghan replied, his tone firm. But then his gaze softened, right as he too crossed his arms, making you think that he was guarding himself up as well.
You let out a resigned sigh. “But this isn’t truly about your ex, Jeonghan,” you finally said, gulping hard. “This is about us failing to do things right.”
And when he lifted his gaze back to you, you noticed a glint in his eyes, like sorrow taking over him. He wasn’t crying, but your heart slowed down at seeing that torn-up look on him. Your words had struck a nerve. “This isn’t on me—I tried making things right!” he said, not lifting his tone, his words devoid of heat.
“You were rushing into things! Asking me to move in? Putting me as the emergency contact on Sohee’s file without telling me?” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but instead you sounded like you were on the brink of tears again.
He still looked hurt, but now, he was beginning to detach himself from you—and you could tell. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe you, running a hand down his mouth, frustratedly. “I thought that you moving in with us would make us stronger. But now I know we weren’t on the same page with that.”
You understood why he delivered his words dryly, but it still made your aching heart deflate even more. Tears burst from your eyes again, and you hated that you were now out of control. “I just wanted to know that you weren’t just looking for someone to share the burden with.”
He let out a huff, a cold smile painting his face. “I don’t need someone to share the burden with; I have been doing fine on my own since Soomin left.”
You rolled your eyes—he was missing the point. “I wanted to be certain that you wanted me.”
That left him cold. His arms were still crossed on his chest, but you saw the smallest of budges, as though the very air had left his lungs, cracking that wall he was putting between you. “Is that it? Is that why you said no?” he asked, his tone softer. He motioned to approach you, but the look on your face stopped him.
You were fully crying now. No sobbing, no hiccupping, no runny nose. Just unstoppable tears streaking down your cheeks. Your lip trembled, just as you were looking for the words to tell him what you needed to hear from him.
His mind reeled—you could tell from the way his gaze shifted quickly, dropping from your face to the ground and then back to you. His brow twitched. “I thought you knew.”
You nodded. “I still needed to hear it, Jeonghan.”
His gaze fell to the space between you, as though trying to untangle this mess in his mind.
But it didn’t matter now. Nothing he could say now would ease the pain in your chest. You were done now. You wanted to go home.
You didn’t say goodbye this time. You didn’t want to drag it any further.
You walked past him, rushing to the door before he could stop you—or to be quick and have the confirmation that he wouldn’t try to stop you. And when you were safe in the elevator, your heart broke anew when you blinked and saw the image of Jeonghan standing in the dining room, a grief-stricken look on his face.
Oh, this would take you months to heal.
Your friends were right. Getting into a relationship with someone like Jeonghan would only bring you pain. Nothing else.
The walk from the elevator to where you had parked your car was excruciatingly long. Your chest was constricting more and more as you fished your key out of the pocket of your jeans, unlocking the car door from afar.
“Wait!”
Jeonghan’s raw voice crossed the parking lot like lightning shooting through the night sky. You stopped, not because you wanted to follow the request, but because of the sheer shock of knowing that he’d chased you down to the parking lot.
Jeonghan was catching up, running to where you stood, frozen to the ground. “Wait,” he pleaded, breathing hard as he reached you. “Don’t go… please.”
Had he run down the emergency stairs just to catch you before you got in your car? Had he left Sohee alone just to get to you? You stared at him, beyond disbelief.
He composed himself with one deep breath, raising his palms at you warily. “I know I don’t deserve this, but please hear me out.”
When you didn’t respond, a wild look of fear shot across his face, making his eyes widen slightly. “I didn’t ask you to move in with us because I wanted someone to share the burden of being a parent,” he said, his words honest despite the tremble in his tone. “I said those things because Sohee is my priority. I was dumb, and that was the first thing that popped into my mind. I wasn’t thinking of how I sounded.”
He gulped air, hard. “I asked you to move in with us because I feel empty when you’re not around,” he said, more fiercely, his eyes glimmering as he took another step towards you. “I asked you to move in with me because of the most selfish reason—because I don’t want to be without you.”
And then the look in his eyes turned to complete despair when you remained motionless. His confession had done nothing to you, or so he appeared to believe. But your heart was beating wildly, thumping in your eardrums. You stood there, torn between holding your ground and giving in to him.
His mouth parted, and he took half a pace to where you stood. But he stopped, as though all strength and courage had dissipated the moment your eyes began to brim with tears again. “Please,” he whispered, gulping hard once again. And you knew what he was feeling—his heart thrumming in his throat. “Don’t do this.”
He wasn’t scared of losing a perfect candidate for his ex’s stand-in. No—and you were a fool to have believed that. You had seen the terrible person his ex was and still decided to run with that idea.
What you had failed to remember was that Jeonghan had gone through difficult breakups before. His ex left him with a baby in his arms. And even if his relationship with Soomin had been loveless from the start, it was still hard, and it still hurt.
God knows how long it had been since Jeonghan felt love.
And the truth is, you trusted that not even he remembers it as well.
Jeonghan was exceptionally bad at sharing his feelings aloud. That is one thing you’ve learned in all eight months you’ve been with him. But then you saw his posture change, the strength in him waning. “I won’t let things go this way again,” he told you, his eyes pleading.
A brutal shudder coursed through you. You loved this man. There was no way you could just turn around and walk away.
Your lip trembled. “You promise?”
It was as though life had been injected into him, hope glimmering in his eyes now. “I promise,” he replied.
With just a couple of paces, you closed the space between you and him, grabbing him by the collar of his black t-shirt and pulling him in. And he simply let you, receiving the impact of your smaller body against his by grabbing you by the waist, already knowing you were aiming for a kiss.
Your lips clashed with his in a crushing kiss; it almost hurt, but you didn’t care. Your body brimmed with energy, making your fingers curl around the fabric of his t-shirt. It was a leap of faith—but this time, you were ready. “I love you,” you said, squeezing your eyelids tightly.
A small sigh escaped him. “I love you too,” he replied, switching his hands from your waist to your face, cupping it before going back to kissing you. “Please, stay,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours tightly.
You melted in his embrace. “Okay,” you replied, nodding.
He wrapped you with his arms completely, placing one hand on your back and the other on your head, making your face nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “You scared me,” he whispered, the sound of his voice strangled.
You swallowed hard. “You scared me too,” you admitted.
He kissed the top of your head, moving to cup your face again. “I know this doesn’t solve everything,” he said, his tone brittle. That’s when you noticed his eyelashes crumpled with tears. “So I think we should talk about what comes next.”
You shifted slightly to get the tears on the corners of your eyes. “What do you mean?”
He seemed to calm down with one breath. “Soomin is still going to be part of our lives.”
You nodded. “I know.”
His eyebrows knitted slightly. “And sometimes our lives will get messy.”
“I know that, Jeonghan,” you whispered, smiling at him softly.
He caressed your cheek tenderly. “But I want you to talk to me every time something feels off,” he said.
“And will you?” you asked.
He nodded. “Every single time,” he said. “I want us to be stronger together.”
The certainty in his demeanour made you pause. “You mean that?” you asked with a tiny tone.
“Yes, I do,” he replied. “I should’ve told you this before. I don’t want to be without you.”
And now the honesty was the thing that disarmed you completely. For a second, you almost felt like your vulnerable side was about to win, but you sighed. “I was jealous of her,” you confessed.
He blinked in disbelief. “Of Soomin?”
You nodded. “She’s Sohee’s mom. I didn’t like to feel that I was competing with her.”
“You weren’t,” he said with certainty. “Things got messy yesterday. I didn’t notice she was trying to make you feel insecure.”
You shook your head lightly. “This whole thing feels ridiculous now.”
He frowned. “What does?”
“All of this,” you gestured to the space between you and him. “We nearly blew up our entire relationship because we couldn’t talk about what we actually feel.”
He let out a light laugh. “It won’t happen again,” he said, stepping back and grabbing your hand, motioning back to the building. “Let’s go back inside?”
You nodded, walking with him, feeling ten times lighter than before.
You both stepped into the elevator, still holding hands. But as soon as the doors closed, Jeonghan tugged at your hand, pulling you closer to his frame. He wrapped an arm around your waist, finding your cheek with the other hand. “Will you forgive me?” he mumbled softly, smiling at you like he was shy. “I let things go out of hand.”
Your heart softened again, making you choke up, so you just nodded. “Me too,” you whispered. “I apologize too.”
He blinked slowly. “We talked about this before, remember?” he told you. “My life is messy, and I haven’t had a relationship since Soomin. I think this is us trying to find the balance in everything.”
You smiled at him. “Please don’t tell me that finding the balance will look like this every time.”
He laughed lightly. “I told you, baby. I won’t let this happen again,” he said, full of certainty. “I mean it.”
You sighed softly, relief finally setting in. “Okay,” you whispered, closing your eyes as he leaned in to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours ever so tenderly, like he was trying to isolate every single feeling and just focus on how your lips felt against his.
The kiss deepened, lips locking together in a heated dance that had your blood dancing in your veins almost instantly. A moan bubbled in your mouth when you felt the tip of his tongue swiping on your bottom lip, touching your tongue as it rolled inside your mouth.
You placed a hand square on his chest. “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” you said, faking a stern look on your face.
The elevator reached the floor, doors parting with a soft ding. Jeonghan took your hand again, as though not wanting to let you go for one second. “I didn’t think it would be that easy,” he said with a smirk. “But please tell me what I can do to get there faster.”
You laughed. “Well, first, you could give me a neck massage.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s starting strong?” he laughed.
“And take me for dinner at that restaurant you keep telling me you wanted to take me,” you said.
“You free tomorrow?” he said while opening the door for you.
He quickly pushed your back against the wall of the hall to his bedroom, locking his lips with yours in a quick, but passionate kiss. “I could pick you up at eight,” he said, his tone raw.
“I dunno. I’ll have to check my calendar,” you replied jokingly, putting your hands on his chest, feeling him up.
Jeonghan giggled into the kiss. “You do that,” he replied.
You smiled, letting him dominate the kiss. And Jeonghan quickly took on the task, kissing you vehemently, like putting every emotion he felt for you into a silent dance of his lips with yours. His hands slipped from your face, finding your waist to clutch on as his tongue rolled inside your mouth.
You moaned, feeling his tongue against yours sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands on his torso slipped further down, finding the hem of his clothes and slipping beneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin.
The muscle of his abdomen contracted softly. “Wait—” Jeonghan said, pausing mid-kiss with a smacking sound from his lips and yours. “Bathroom.”
You were only able to moan out a sound of affirmation. The door to the bathroom was a couple of steps away from you, and when you both got there, it was as though a lightbulb had been switched on in your mind. Jeonghan was intending to take you to the most secluded place in the house—far away from the baby’s room.
Jeonghan turned the lights on with one hand, undoing the button of his jeans with the other. You acted quickly—taking one step in his direction and grabbing the black t-shirt, enjoying the look in his eyes, the hunger, the lust and devotion in them.
The clothes came off quietly—hurriedly, while his gaze remained trained on your face. Jeonghan was quiet, unusually quiet as you worked your trembling fingers to undress him. “Do you want to undress me?” you mumbled, your tone sweet, but low.
He blinked slowly and nodded, biting his bottom lip. He first grabbed the hem of your tank top, hiking it up your torso while you raised your arms to help him in the process. His gaze shifted to your chest when your bralette came into view. “I like this,” he whispered, running the pad of his thumb along the pretty lace hem of the cup of the bralette. “You know I like this one.”
You smiled softly. “If you’re suggesting that I wore the bra you liked to break up with you in case something happened, then you’re sorely mistaken,” you replied smugly.
He matched your smile. “I’m glad,” he whispered, tilting his head to meet your lips with his. He kissed you once, softly at first, his lips creating a low smacking sound when he pulled back, but not far. “I’m glad you didn’t break up with me.”
“I guess all we needed was to talk it out,” you joked in between hurried, heated pecks. Then your breath hitched, Jeonghan’s cold fingers had found the clasp of your bralette.
Jeonghan sighed in amusement. “Who would’ve thought,” he replied with an obvious tone while his hands gently eased the straps off your shoulders, and took your bra off your chest.
You needed one second to take in the situation in—you had just gone through one of the worst moments of your life, thinking that you were breaking up with the man you had fallen head over heels for. And now to be back in his apartment, hiding in the bathroom with him so that whatever went down in there wouldn’t wake the baby up.
It felt strangely exciting.
He pushed the tip of his nose against yours softly, making you angle your face as he swiped the tip of his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You parted your mouth, letting him in with a silent moan, right as his tongue found yours. He kissed you slowly, sensually, like he had been aching to do that for the longest time, but things just got in the way.
You understood then, all the intense gazes, the way he kept looking at your lips…
“From now on, I’ll tell you everything,” he told you suddenly, giving you small kisses as his hands came up to cup your face lovingly. “Every single thought that crosses my brain, you’ll know it.”
You laughed at that, the sound louder than anything else; it bounced off the walls in a denouncing manner.
“Quiet, baby,” Jeonghan uttered, but he let out a tiny giggle with you anyway. “Sohee might hear you.”
You couldn’t help it; your heart melted. “Sorry,” you whispered, but the smile didn’t wipe off your face.
He tilted his head to one side, smiling endearingly at you. “I have a feeling you like this,” he muttered, voice low like a purr.
You nodded, biting your lower lip as you pushed his boxers down.
“You like it when I tell you to be quiet,” he kept going, keeping his tone down.
His gaze dropped to your hands as you grabbed his cock and started stroking him with your hand wrapped around the underside of his shaft. He had a pretty cock, soft and veiny on his thick shaft, dark pink on its head.
Seeing your hand rolling up and down his erect cock made him swallow a grunt, but as you twisted your grip around him, the sounds he made grew louder. How easy it was for him to surrender under your touch caused a deep satisfaction to bloom in your chest. But more than that, arousal had already started to pulsate between your legs. You enjoyed giving him pleasure just as much as you enjoyed receiving it.
“I like everything you do, daddy,” you mumbled, your tone wrapped in honey.
“Fuck,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. He slipped his hands on your waist, clutching your skin tightly but not enough for it to burn. “You make me crazy.”
Your fist tightened around the crown of his cock, smearing the slick precum leaking from his slit. You loved pleasuring him, yes, but you needed him inside you—the thrumming between your legs ached to feel him. A cunning smile painted your lips, considering playing with him some more.
But Jeonghan caught that naughty smirk on your face.
In one motion, he pushed your back to the countertop of the sink. You gasped at the sudden movement, but before you could protest, he was already getting to one knee in front of you.
“If you make a single sound, I’ll stop,” he told you, his eyes darkened with need and lust.
And without waiting for your verbal response, his head dipped down, pressing his mouth to your mound. He kissed the top of your pussy first, pressing his lips to your skin tenderly, almost adoringly as his sweet brown eyes found yours, but briefly. You let out a ragged breath, parting your legs by half, sitting on the countertop. That gave him all the access to your slick folds, which he nipped and licked eagerly.
You instantly tensed, your hand finding his head and the other holding onto the basin like your life depended on it. Jeonghan knew you well; he knew how you liked being touched, how to eat your pussy out until you were a mess of tears and babbles. He knew how to make you cum. What he was doing now was just to tease you, to drive you crazy—licking the juices off your folds with pleased grunts from his part, loving the way you were always ready for him.
He grabbed your thighs, spreading you further apart so you stopped twitching and moving—and licked your pussy up and down slowly, thoroughly, only to tease you some more.
But then he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it ever so lightly.
Your jaw went slack, and to not let a scream out, the hand that was previously clutching the basin flew and landed on the tap, accidentally pushing it open. The sound of water flowing freely was the perfect mask for your whiny moans, because Jeonghan had started to run his tongue flatly on top of your engorged clit, all the while his lips kept it trapped.
Thoughts ceased to exist. Nothing mattered to you except for the sweet waves of pleasure running uncontrollably through your veins, making your skin prickle and your nipples pebble. It was as though you were submerged in a pool of pleasure. Your breathing turned ragged, and your body tensed solely to let the orgasm build up—because Jeonghan wasn’t stopping, and apparently, he had forgotten about the no noise rule.
Or maybe he liked this too.
But then he lifted his face slightly, keeping his lips and tongue on the top of your pussy as his lust-filled gaze met yours. You sank your teeth on your bottom lip, using the hand that was cradling the back of his head to push his face against your cunt, begging him silently to continue.
Jeonghan eyed the basin swiftly, briefly. And that was all the command you needed. You pushed your thumb against the tap, shutting it off.
However, he continued being a tease. Or a menace. He dragged his tongue against your swollen clit, pushing the wet muscle against you, achingly slow.
Your eyebrows pinched. Please, you begged with just one look.
There was a smile that only showed in his eyes right before he resumed eating you out, sucking and licking your clit. And he only needed to do it for mere thirty seconds before your orgasm tore through your body. You forgot about pulling his hair, taking that hand against your own mouth to stop yourself from screaming.
The waves of pleasure running through you were beyond anything else you’ve felt before. He’d teased you for so long that you were very much ready for that orgasm, leaving you limp and trembling on the countertop.
Your chest was rising and falling dramatically. Embarrassed, you cast a look at Jeonghan, who was pushing himself onto his feet with a light but wicked grin on his face. He didn’t need to say anything, he knew that you’d liked that.
And you needed him now.
You grabbed his wrist, pulling so that he stood between your thighs. “Wait,” he whispered, sliding his hands on your thighs to bring you to a halt.
You instantly knew what he’d say. You shook your head. “I want you now,” you mumbled.
But he motioned a hand to the cabinet behind you, where you knew he kept one large box of condoms. He kept it there and would also restock the bedside table every night you stayed in.
You grabbed him by the hip, pulling him closer to your body. “Now,” you whined.
Jeonghan didn’t resist, didn’t question you.
His hands returned to your thighs, wrenching them further apart and positioning himself between them. Tilting your hips up, you angled yourself for him while still sitting back on the countertop—you knew he liked the view of his bare cock entering you, the view of your pussy stretched open with his girth.
So his head dipped, keeping his gaze where your body and his were about to join. He pushed his hips closer to yours, and you took his cock, guiding it to your sopping core. His mouth parted when the crown of his cock nuzzled your entrance, and a rush of excitement flowed through you when you felt him push inside.
Feeling him raw, skin on skin, was a delicious experience. Maybe it was more in your brain than in your body—because you swore you could cum right there and then, and he wasn’t even fully inside you.
You caught a glimpse of his face changing, of the pleasure taking over him quickly as he gave the first thrust, the muscle of his jaw twitched, and he immediately crushed his mouth with yours. With a muffled moan, he started moving, languidly at first, as though testing you.
“God, baby, you feel… amazing,” he whispered, pushing his hips with gentle motions. You believed that he wanted to take it slowly, so he wouldn’t finish fast and inside you. But then you heard how fucking wet you were. You could hear his cock slipping in and out of your walls, and Jeonghan wanted to enjoy it.
You cupped the side of his neck with one hand, motioning his gaze back to yours. You stared into his eyes for a long moment while he took your body slowly. Jeonghan blinked, his hands grabbing your thighs and motioning them around his hips, making it even harder for him to pull out.
It was a game you both had. And it made you feral. You loved it.
Jeonghan pushed his body flushed against yours, thrusting slowly, but deeply. “Like that?” he asked, although he didn’t need to—the look on your face told him enough.
But you nodded either way. You remembered what he said about telling you every single thought that crossed his brain, and you decided to give him some of your thoughts in return. “I love this,” you whispered. “I love feeling you like this.”
He let out a grunt, bowing his head to kiss your shoulder. “I know,” he sighed, his breath fanning your pert nipples. “I love it too.”
You slipped your hand from his neck and then locked your arms around his shoulders. All reason flew out of your brain, and then you knew you were just babbling—but you didn’t care. “The thought of you cumming inside me makes me cum,” you mumbled, uncaring of how pathetically sweet your tone sounded.
“Oh, fuck,” Jeonghan moaned loudly, the sound barely muffled by the crook of your neck, hips stuttering against yours for half a second.
You cupped his nape with your hand as he lifted his head to face you. “Yeah?” he hummed, his gaze taking you in. “Want me to pump you full of my cum?” he asked with a playful lilt.
You nodded, incapable of giving him a verbal reply. The question was crude; it sounded beyond dirty and sinful as it came out of his lips. This surely wasn’t the first time he spoke filthy things to you, but it was the first time he asked a question like this.
And you loved it.
The pacing of his thrusts quickened, but didn’t relent on their depth, keeping his body flush against yours. You could feel the film layer of sweat covering his skin, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you were sweating as well.
But you noticed that Jeonghan was forgetting about your game of keeping quiet. The pacing of his thrusts quickening also meant that the sounds of skin slapping against skin were harder to avoid. You thought of mentioning this to him, but it turned you on to see him lose control slowly.
“Babe,” you whispered, “be quiet.”
Jeonghan had to bite his smile back. And fuck, you loved this man. One of the things you loved about him was how sexy he could be. He pushed his hips against yours in a particularly thorough way that made you think he was trying to reach as deep into you as he could, making you whimper loudly.
“You be quiet,” he bit back, continuing to slip his cock in and out of your walls deliciously, making you see stars.
Your eyelids fell closed, but you could capture the image of him leaning his face closer to yours, feeling his breath on your lips before he kissed them. “Quiet or you won’t get to cum,” he said, his tone raspy, tired.
“Doesn’t that mean you won’t either?” you taunted, loving the way the pacing of his thrusts changed. You knew he was trying to draw out his own pleasure, make himself last longer.
Jeonghan laughed, the sound languid. “Remember how I got you to shut up that one time?” he asked, his tone still low, waning. And when the memory instantly flashed behind your closed lids, your walls tightened around him, drawing out a moan from him.
That time, he showed you a different side of himself. You were being louder than most nights, having fun by testing how far Jeonghan would go to make you submit to him.
“Yeah, you remember it,” he drawled, moving his face ever so slightly so he could join his lips with yours, all while still moving inside you painfully slow. He was edging you, and in turn, he was edging himself as well. “I thought you looked pretty with my cock inside your mouth,” he said.
You could’ve fallen over the edge in that second. A shameful whine came out of you, but you were too gone to even think of how pathetic you were sounding. You didn’t care. Having Jeonghan inside you, raw, and speaking filth to you felt so good. “I’ll be quiet, Hannie,” you told him. “Just don’t stop.”
With a grunt, Jeonghan obliged, changing the push and pull from a painfully slow one to a deliciously hard and deep one. You let out a silent moan, angling your hips to him so he could reach deeper inside you, so you could feel him completely.
Jeonghan cussed, his voice drowned out by the dull sound of skin hitting against skin. And it was then that you knew that this was his obsession—the quiet play, the bickering, the very obvious sounds of pleasure…
And you simply let him take you. The closer he grew to his orgasm, the closer you felt like giving in to the sweet pleasure dancing beneath your skin. Jeonghan parted his mouth, and you felt his hips buckling, his hands gripping your hips, his body flush and pushing against yours…
“Fuck, baby,” he said with a tired, but blissful drawl. “I’m close,” he said, his words heavy with meaning.
And you knew what he wanted to say. “Inside,” you moaned. “Do it inside me.”
Jeonghan gave you another one of those hazy smiles, tilting his head back so you could see his face, while pleasure took over the features of his beautiful face. “Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, looking like he was in between happy and tired.
You nodded. “Uh-huh,” you mewled, aware that the sounds bouncing off the walls of the bathroom had become louder. But you didn’t care, and Jeonghan didn’t seem to pay attention.
He pushed inside, slamming his front to yours, switching the grip on one side of your thigh to your hair at the base of your head. “Then give it to me,” he whispered, the sound raspy and full of greed. “Cum for me.”
You could’ve gone off simply from the way he was talking to you. But you needed to get it done, fast, now. You moved your body slightly, taking your hand in between his body and yours and started rubbing your clit, teasing it with fast swirls. “Daddy,” you moaned, louder. His thrusts were deep, hard, and so fucking good. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Jeonghan responded with a deep moan of his own. “Baby,” he gasped, releasing the grip he had on your hair, his hand sliding down your back as he dropped his forehead on your shoulder.
You closed your eyes, letting your orgasm barrel down your body, letting Jeonghan push his cum deep inside you with a couple of final, languid thrusts. His face was pressed tightly against the crook of your neck, making your skin prickle as he breathed hard against you.
The inner side of your thighs trembled quite dramatically as you tried holding onto him. Jeonghan let out a light, breathy giggle, right as you, too, were composing yourself, caressing his naked back with the tips of your fingers.
Then you felt his lips on the crook of your neck, your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I’ll start a shower for you,” he croaked, lifting his head to direct a tender look at you. “I have to go check on Sohee.”
You nodded. “Okay,” you replied.
But there was a great reluctance in his following movements. Casting a look down your body, he carefully peeled his body back from yours, turning around to start the shower. You watched him as he walked back, only to plant a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose before grabbing his shorts and slipping through the bathroom door.
Once you found your limbs, you climbed off the counter and stepping before the shower. After testing the temperature, you stood below the stream, closing your eyes as you let the water wash down your face.
Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of a thousand questions and things that you still wanted to say. But one thing was finally clear to you.
The gentle sounds coming from the door announced he was back, right as you were halfway done washing up. When he stepped into the shower, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, his chest pressing against your back as he embraced you tightly. “Hey,” you mumbled, grabbing his forearm to squeeze him.
He inhaled deeply, pressing his lips to your hair. “Hey,” he replied, his tone low and raspy.
You turned around, moving on the shower floor so that the stream bathed his bare skin. “Let me,” you said, grabbing the soap and washcloth.
Jeonghan gave you a sheepish smile. “Oh, are you going to wash me?” he asked, his tone turning playful as you nodded at him silently, looking into his eyes. “Alright, just don’t give me those eyes, or we’ll never get this done.”
You laughed, the sound filling the bathroom. His glimmering eyes found your face, and you could see the minute his mind snapped with decision. Cupping your face in his hands, he pulled you in for a kiss full of passion and endearment. “I love you,” he mumbled, his tone so gentle that it made you think he was relieved to say it.
“I love you,” you replied, laughing softly before he pressed his lips against yours again.
“What’s that?” he asked in between pecks.
“Nothing,” you huffed as he moved to kiss your cheek. “You’re very confident now.”
He responded with a light laugh of his own. “I don’t care. I’m going to say it more,” he told you, sounding serious like a warning.
“Good,” you mumbled faintly, as he bent down to kiss your neck.
“Starting now,” he said, slipping his hands from your lower back to your rear, pressing you against his frame.
“Careful,” you replied. “You might start sounding desperate,” you teased.
You felt him smile against your skin. “Desperate, huh?” he asked, his voice low and in your ear.
“Well,” you said, tilting your head to give him more space for him to kiss, “you did just almost lose me.”
He nodded. “That put things in perspective.”
A sigh escaped your mouth when he kissed a particular sweet spot on your shoulder. “You’re going a bit overboard.”
“Mmm,” he sighed against your skin. hands squeezing your ass, but just softly, tenderly. “I love you.”
You bit back a smile. “See?”
“You’re the one who wanted me to say it.”
“I didn’t say you had to start saying it every minute,” you said, smiling despite yourself.
He pulled back, making you miss his lips on your skin instantly. “I can slow down.”
You bit your lower lip, nodding. “Please.”
But he showed you a charming half smile. “I love you.”
You laughed, trying to push his shoulder. “You’re a tease.”
A pause. The smirk wiped off his face as he exhaled softly. “And yet,” he said, his eyes glimmering with something you hadn’t seen before in him, “you’re still here.”
You watched his eyes for a moment, your pulse quickening. “That’s still under review,” you tried to joke, sounding out of breath.
If Jeonghan heard your tone, he made no comment about it; he played along. “What can I do to help my case?”
“I already told you,” you said, looking at his eyes and then his lips.
He nodded, leaning to kiss the tip of your nose. “What else?” he whispered.
You slipped your hands from his shoulders, down his torso, feeling his warm and wet skin. “Let’s go to that water park… all three of us together.”
He smiled before pressing his lips against yours. “You got it,” he replied.
Your heart shuddered. “Jeonghan?” you mumbled softly, feeling his hands all over your skin, exploring you, getting you aroused again.
“Yes?”
“Ask me to move in with you,” you said, tone falling to a mere whisper.
He pulled back, only to look into your eyes. He didn’t hesitate. “Move in with me.”
Your eyes glimmered, your whole body trembling with joy, relief, and love. You nodded. “I’ll move in with you.”
Jeonghan smiled. “Good,” he mumbled, content. “I love you.”
You groaned softly, rolling your eyes playfully. “Oh my god,” you said, loving the sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls. He leaned over, showering you with kisses again. “I love you more,” you replied shyly.
“Impossible,” he said.
› author's note pt. 2: hi hey hello!!
so, we're are so back. and jeonghan is coming back? hannieween is writing again? hell yeah
OKAY BUT I WANT TO TAKE A MOMENT TO ADDRESS SOMETHING HERE. apparently, tumblr has moved some things so that if someone comments, likes or reblogs a post that has been previously reblogged by someone else, i won't get to see those notifs. so for example, if you're not reblogging this from my page directly, i won't get to see it 😭 so if you guys comment, like, reblog, etc, i appreciate you all so much, i might not get to see it, but i appreciate it anyway!
(•˕ •マ.ᐟ || After weeks of exhaustion and buried pain finally erupt into a cruel confrontation that shatters the trust between them, Chan must reckon with the weight of his words and fight to mend what he broke, finding redemption in the moment Y/N needs him most.
The vibration of the alarm was less a sound and more a physical assault, a deep thrum against the wooden nightstand that drilled straight into Chan's skull. He'd been staring at the ceiling for the last forty-five minutes anyway. Sleep had been a series of fragmented, restless images, a missed cue, his mother's disappointed face, the cold glare of the practice room mirrors.
He silenced the alarm before it could fully ring out. 4:47 AM. A full thirteen minutes before it was even set to go off.
His phone was already in his hand, a habit he despised but couldn't break. Three new messages.
Dad (11:03 PM): Your mother is asking when you'll call. She said it's been three weeks.
Dad (6:15 AM - Today): I know you're busy. But she's worried. It's not just about you anymore. Your sister had a bad night. She asked for you.
Dad (6:17 AM): Just call when you can, son.
Chan stared at the messages until the words blurred. His younger sister. The one who was supposed to be the "healthy" one, the one who wasn't chasing a ridiculous dream in Seoul. The one whose quiet battles with anxiety had escalated into something that kept his parents awake at night. And he was here, thousands of kilometers away, worrying about a high note he couldn't quite hit consistently.
He typed back a quick, hollow response. I'll call tonight. Tell her I love her.
He didn't add that he hadn't slept more than three hours in four days. He didn't mention that his voice was fraying at the edges. They didn't need to know. They already had enough to carry.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed, the cool air of the dorm hitting his bare skin. The dorm was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only exists in the pre-dawn hours before eight other people wake up and fill it with noise and life. Right now, it just felt empty.
He pulled on a worn hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, moving on autopilot. In the kitchen, he downed a protein shake he didn't taste, the chalky liquid sitting heavy in his stomach. His reflection in the dark microwave glass was a ghost, dark circles under his eyes, skin pale, expression flat. He looked like a leader. He felt like a fraud.
The company building was already buzzing by the time he arrived at 5:30 AM. The security guard gave him a tired nod. Staff members, looking as haggard as he felt, hurried through the corridors with clipboards and headpieces. The energy was a live wire, frenetic, desperate, and stretched thin.
This was day three of comeback week. Three music shows down. Four more to go. Two variety show appearances squeezed in. A fan-sign event. And nestled in between, the endless, grueling hours of practice to keep the new choreography from turning to mush in their exhausted bodies.
He went straight to the practice room, needing the familiar space. He'd just started his own warm-up, body moving through the opening sequence on muscle memory alone, when the door opened.
Changbin walked in, a paper cup of coffee in each hand. He took one look at Chan and his face fell into a familiar, worried line.
"You look like death," Changbin said, setting one of the cups down by Chan's bag. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Plenty," Chan lied, not breaking his stretch. His hamstrings screamed in protest.
Changbin just hummed, unconvinced. He was the only one who could get away with this, the only one Chan didn't have the energy to deflect. "Your mom call again?"
Chan's jaw tightened. He held the stretch for a second longer, then straightened up. "My sister," he said, the two words feeling like an admission of failure.
Changbin's expression softened. He didn't offer platitudes, which Chan was grateful for. He just nodded slowly. "You'll get through to her."
"Yeah." Chan picked up the coffee, letting the warmth seep into his palms. He didn't have the heart to tell Changbin that the distance between him and his family felt like a chasm he no longer knew how to cross. "Let's just get through today."
The others trickled in over the next hour, each looking as exhausted as the last. Felix came in with his ever-present smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Hyunjin was uncharacteristically quiet, nursing what looked like a sore throat. Jeongin nearly walked into a wall.
And then there was Y/N.
She slipped in last, as she often did, trying to be unobtrusive. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her practice clothes a little rumpled. She gave a small, apologetic wave to the room, her eyes briefly meeting Chan's before darting away.
He felt a flicker of something, not annoyance, not yet. Just a twitch of awareness. She'd been quieter than usual lately. More hesitant. He made a mental note to check in with her later, but the mental note was immediately buried under the avalanche of everything else.
The choreographer, a woman with the patience of a saint and the intensity of a drill sergeant, clapped her hands. "Alright. From the top. Full run. No stopping."
The music blared, a wall of sound and bass that Chan had once found exhilarating. Now it felt like another weight pressing down on him.
They moved through the first verse. It was sloppy. Feet were half a beat behind, angles weren't sharp. Chan could feel the choreographer's critical gaze like a brand on his skin. He pushed harder, using his own body to try to set the pace, his voice cutting through the music with sharp corrections.
"Formation three, move faster."
"Seungmin, angle."
"Y/N-"
He stopped. The music kept playing for a second before the assistant scrambled to cut it.
Y/N was in the wrong spot. Not by much. A meter, maybe. But in the intricate clockwork of their choreography, a meter might as well have been a mile. She was standing where Hyunjin was supposed to be in four counts, which meant the entire formation was now off.
The choreographer sighed, a long, weary sound. "Let's take it from the chorus again. Y/N, you're drifting. Watch your spacing."
"Sorry," Y/N breathed, her cheeks flushing. She ducked her head, quickly moving to her correct position.
Chan saw it. The way her shoulders curved inward. The way she was already apologizing for a mistake that, on any other day, would have been a minor, forgettable blip. He opened his mouth to say something, it's fine, we all drift, let's just focus, but the choreographer was already counting them back in, and the words died in his throat.
The morning bled into a haze of repetition. They ran the song four more times. Each time, something was off. Minho's timing wavered. Han's voice cracked on a high note during a section they'd done a hundred times before. Chan himself messed up a transition, his exhausted body refusing to cooperate with his brain.
By the time they broke for a thirty-minute rest before the first music show rehearsal, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken frustration. The members scattered, some to the couches, some to grab food, some to sit in silence with their headphones on.
Chan pulled out his phone. No new messages. He stared at his dad's texts from that morning again, his thumb hovering over the call button. He could do it now. Just a five-minute call. Just to hear his sister's voice.
Not now, a voice in his head said. You don't have time to fall apart right now. Focus. Get through the show. Then you can call.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Across the room, he saw Y/N sitting by herself, her knees drawn up to her chest, scrolling through her phone with a distant expression. She hadn't messed up again since that first time, but she'd been moving carefully, deliberately, as if afraid of making another mistake.
He should go over there. Say something encouraging. Remind her that everyone was off today, that it wasn't just her.
But his legs felt like lead. His head was pounding. And somewhere in the back of his mind, a small, ugly part of him thought: I can't hold her hand right now. I can barely hold myself together.
The live band was louder than they'd expected, throwing off their timing. The stage monitors were feeding back. Their in-ear monitors were cutting in and out, leaving them to rely on hand signals and instinct.
Chan was running damage control on all fronts, talking to the audio director, calming down a frazzled stylist whose outfit for Seungmin had been damaged, trying to keep the members focused. His voice was hoarse from shouting over the chaos, his head throbbing in time with the bass that seemed to vibrate through the very foundation of the building.
And through it all, Y/N was struggling.
It wasn't one big mistake. It was a dozen small ones. A missed hand gesture here. A half-beat delay on a pivot there. At one point, during a section where she had to weave between Felix and Hyunjin, she misjudged the distance and bumped into Hyunjin's shoulder, nearly sending him off balance.
Each time, Chan felt a spike of irritation. Each time, he suppressed it. He was the leader. He was supposed to be patient. He was supposed to guide.
But the irritation was a splinter under his skin, and with every small error, it burrowed deeper.
During a break, he caught Y/N standing at the edge of the stage, her hands pressed together in front of her, her eyes fixed on the floor. She was murmuring something to herself, the counts, probably. Trying to drill them into her exhausted brain.
He walked over, his footsteps heavy on the stage floor. "You okay?"
She looked up, startled. Her eyes were a little too bright. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just… I'll get it. I promise."
"We need you to," he said. He didn't mean for it to come out so blunt. But he was tired, and his brain was fried, and the words came out stripped of any softness. "We're on in twenty minutes."
She flinched. It was subtle, but he saw it. "I know. I'm sorry."
He opened his mouth to say something else, it's not about being sorry, it's about executing, but a staff member called his name, waving a clipboard, and he was pulled away before he could.
The live performance went… fine. It wasn't their best. It wasn't their worst. Chan watched the playback afterwards, picking apart every flaw, every moment where their exhaustion bled through. He'd have to talk to the group about it later. Go over the footage. Fix the mistakes.
But first, there was an interview. Then a fan-sign event. Then another round of practice to prepare for tomorrow's show, because they couldn't afford to have another day like today.
The hours blurred. He smiled for cameras. He answered the same questions with the same practiced ease. He signed album after album, each fan's face a blur of excitement and adoration that he couldn't quite connect with.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Then buzzed again. He didn't check it.
By the time they were back at the company building for final practice, it was nearly 10 PM. The dorm felt like a distant, unreachable place. The practice room, with its harsh fluorescent lights and wall of mirrors, felt like the only reality.
"One more full run," Chan said, his voice flat. "Then we can call it."
The groans were soft, but they were there. He ignored them.
They took their positions. The music started.
And Y/N messed up again.
It was the same section from the morning. The formation shift where she had to move from the back to the front. She was supposed to land next to Chan for the final chorus. Instead, she overshot, ending up a step too far to his left, breaking the symmetry of the ending pose.
Chan's jaw clenched. He forced his face neutral, held the pose until the music faded.
"Again," he said, not looking at her. "From the last chorus."
They reset. The music started.
She did it again.
This time, she was a half-step behind, arriving after the beat had already passed, leaving an awkward gap between her and Chan that was painfully visible in the mirrors.
Chan didn't say anything at first. The music cut off with a screech of vinyl from the speaker, a sound that made everyone jump. He just stood there, chest heaving, staring at her reflection in the mirror. His hands were shaking, from exhaustion, from the caffeine flooding his system, from something he couldn't name. The silence stretched, and with each second, Y/N seemed to shrink a little more.
He turned to face her.
"You." His voice came out low, rougher than he intended. "Come here."
She hesitated, her gaze darting to the other members. No one moved. No one met her eyes. She walked toward him, her footsteps uncertain, her arms wrapped around her middle like she was holding herself together.
Chan waited until she was close enough to see the tear tracks still drying on her face from earlier. Close enough to see the way her hands were trembling.
"What was that?" he asked.
She blinked. "What was-"
"The transition." He gestured toward the spot she'd missed. His voice was flat, but there was something underneath it, a vibration, like a wire pulled too tight. "The one we've run a hundred times. The one you've been missing for three days. What was that?"
"I just-" She swallowed. "I miscalculated the spacing. I'll fix it."
"You'll fix it." He repeated the words slowly, like he was tasting them. "You'll fix it. That's what you said yesterday. And the day before."
"I know. I'm sorry, I-"
"You're sorry." He laughed, but there was nothing funny in it. It was a short, harsh sound that cut through the room. "You're sorry. That's great. That's really great, Y/N."
He was pacing now, short, jerky movements, his hands gripping the back of his neck. His head was pounding. His chest was tight. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, the other members, the staff, the mirrors reflecting his own face back at him, pale and wild.
"When you mess up," he said, and his voice was rising now, each word sharper than the last, "when you miss your mark, do you know what happens? I have to fix it. I have to stop practice, pull everyone back, explain the same formation again. I have to answer to the choreographer. I have to answer to the company. I have to smile at the cameras and pretend everything is fine while you're off in your own world, doing God knows what-"
"That's not fair." Her voice cracked. "I'm not off in my own world, I'm trying-"
"You're trying?" He spun around, and she flinched, actually flinched, her shoulders hunching, her feet shifting back a step. He saw it. He didn't stop. "You think I care if you're trying? You think the fans care? You think the company cares? You think my sister-" He stopped, his jaw clenching so hard it hurt.
The silence that followed was worse than the shouting.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, digging in. His head was pounding. His throat was raw. He hadn't slept. He hadn't called his sister. He hadn't done anything right in days, maybe weeks, and here she was, looking at him with those wide, wet eyes, waiting for him to fix it like he always fixed everything, like he was supposed to have the answers.
He dropped his hand.
"You want to know what I think?" His voice was quiet now, which was somehow worse. He stepped closer, and she stepped back, her shoulders hitting the mirror. He didn't stop until he was right in front of her, close enough to see the tears spilling down her cheeks. "I think you've already checked out. I think you're going through the motions, waiting for something, I don't know what. Permission to quit, maybe."
"No." She shook her head, her voice breaking. "That's not, I would never-"
"Then show me." His voice cracked on the words. "Show me something. Anything. Because right now, I am standing in a practice room at ten o'clock at night, running the same transition for the fifth time, and I am tired."
He was breathing hard, his hands shaking at his sides. She was crying silently now, her face wet, her body pressed against the glass like she was trying to disappear into it. He could see her reflection in the mirror behind her, small, cornered, breaking.
He should stop. Some part of him knew he should stop.
But the words kept coming, rising up from somewhere dark and exhausted, and he didn't have the strength to push them back down.
"You want to know what I think?" His voice was rising now, cracking at the edges. "I think you're not good enough to be this much trouble."
Her head snapped up, her eyes widening.
"You heard me." He stepped closer, and she pressed harder against the mirror. "Every single day, I have to stop and fix your mistakes. Every single practice, I have to explain the same choreography to you like you're a trainee. Do you know what that looks like? Do you know what everyone thinks when they see me running after you, covering for you, cleaning up your mess?"
He was yelling now. He could feel it in his throat, raw and tearing.
"They think you're weak. They think you're dragging us down. And you know what?" He laughed, and it was ugly, wild, nothing like himself. "They're right. You are dragging us down. You're the weak link, Y/N. The only reason you're still here, the only reason, is because I keep covering for you. Because I keep lying to the company, lying to the choreographer, lying to myself that you're going to figure it out someday."
Behind him, someone moved. He heard it, a sharp intake of breath, the shuffle of feet. Felix, maybe. Or Changbin.
He didn't care.
"Do you have any idea what it's like?" His voice broke on the words. "To stand here every night and watch you drift? To know that I could have picked anyone, anyone, and they would work harder than you? That they would show up? That they wouldn't make me look like a fool for believing in them?"
She was shaking her head, her hands pressed flat against the mirror, tears streaming down her face. "That's not, I'm trying, I swear I'm trying-"
"Trying isn't good enough!" He shouted it, and the sound of his own voice seemed to shake the room. "Trying isn't good enough when we have a comeback in three days! Trying isn't good enough when the company is watching! Trying isn't good enough when I have eight other people depending on me to hold this together, and you can't even hit a mark you've hit a thousand times before!"
He was in her face now, close enough to see the tears catching on her lashes, to see her lips trembling. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Maybe you should just quit."
The words came out quieter than he expected. Almost calm.
She went still. Completely, terrifyingly still. Her hands stopped shaking. Her tears kept falling, but her face was blank now, hollow, like something inside her had simply turned off.
"You heard me." His voice was low, steady, each word deliberate. "If you can't do this, if you're going to keep making the same mistakes, keep dragging us down, keep making me explain to everyone why you're worth the trouble, then maybe you should just quit. Walk away. Find something you're actually good at."
He heard it then. A sharp, audible breath from behind him. Not a gasp, something angrier. Changbin's voice, low and urgent: "Chan."
He didn't turn around. He was watching Y/N's face, watching the last light drain out of her eyes.
"I didn't fight for you," he said, and his voice cracked on the last word, "so you could make me regret it every single day."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The words hung in the air between them. He watched them land, watched her face crumple, watched something behind her eyes go dark.
She didn't say anything. She just stood there, pinned against the mirror, her hands pressed flat against the glass on either side of her like she needed it to hold herself up. Her tears were falling faster now, but she wasn't making a sound.
Chan opened his mouth. He didn't know what he was going to say, something to take it back, something to make it worse, something that would close the distance between what he was feeling and what was coming out of his mouth.
She moved first.
She pushed off the mirror, her body sliding past his, her shoulder brushing his arm. The contact was brief, accidental, but he felt it like a burn. She walked to her bag, her steps unsteady, her hands shaking so badly she dropped her water bottle once, twice, before she managed to pick it up.
No one moved to help her. No one said a word.
She was almost at the door when his voice, stripped of all its earlier heat, came out of him without permission.
"Y/N."
She stopped. Her hand was on the handle, her back to him. He could see her shoulders shaking.
He didn't know what he wanted to say. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please don't go. The words were there, somewhere, buried under the exhaustion and the guilt and the growing, sickening realization of what he'd just done.
But she didn't wait. She pulled the door open and walked through, and the soft click of it closing was the loudest sound Chan had ever heard.
He stood there in the center of the room, surrounded by mirrors, watching himself fall apart in triplicate.
Behind him, someone exhaled shakily. He didn't turn around.
He just stared at the door, at the space where she'd been, and waited for the feeling to come back into his hands.
Chan stood in the center of the practice room, surrounded by mirrors that reflected back every angle of his failure. His hands were shaking. His chest was tight. And all he could think about was the look on Y/N's face, the devastation, the shame, the complete and total collapse of someone he was supposed to protect.
He'd spent years building a family. And in one moment of weakness, one frayed thread finally snapping, he'd taken a blade to its most vulnerable member.
He'd used his love for her, his belief in her, as a weapon.
The dorm was quiet when Chan finally dragged himself through the door three hours later. He'd stayed in the studio, staring at a blank screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard but unable to produce a single note. His phone sat face-down on the desk. He hadn't called his sister. He hadn't called anyone.
He walked past the kitchen, past the living room, his feet carrying him toward his room on autopilot. But something made him stop outside the door to the room Y/N shared with no one, the single room she'd been given as the only female member, a small mercy in a living situation that was otherwise a constant negotiation of boundaries and awareness.
The light was off. The door was closed.
He stood there for a long moment, his hand raised to knock. He could picture her inside, curled up in bed, maybe, or sitting against the headboard with her knees drawn up, the way she did when she was trying to make herself small. He could picture the tear tracks on her face, the way her hands would be shaking.
He owed her an apology. A real one. He owed her to get down on his knees and beg her forgiveness for the words that had come out of his mouth, words that he couldn't take back, words that had been sitting in the back of his throat for days, weeks, waiting for the wrong moment to escape.
But his hand wouldn't move. His voice wouldn't come.
Coward, he thought. You're a coward.
He lowered his hand. He walked to his own room. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of his bed in the dark, his head in his hands, and he didn't sleep.
He just sat there, replaying the moment over and over, the look on her face, the way she'd crumbled under the weight of his words.
And somewhere down the hall, in a room where the light stayed off all night, Y/N lay awake too, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she was supposed to face tomorrow when she wasn't sure she deserved to be there at all.
The morning came whether Chan was ready for it or not.
He hadn't slept. He'd spent the night staring at the ceiling, the same ceiling he'd stared at before the alarm had gone off what felt like a lifetime ago. His phone sat on his chest, the screen dark. He'd typed out a message to Y/N seven times. Deleted it seven times.
I'm sorry. Too small.
I didn't mean it. A lie.
Please come back. Selfish.
He'd thrown the phone across the room instead. It had hit the wall with a satisfying crack, the screen spider-webbing into a constellation of fractures. He hadn't picked it up.
Now, at 6:15 AM, he stood in the kitchen of the dorm, a cup of coffee growing cold in his hands. The others were moving around him, showers running, doors opening and closing, the low murmur of exhausted voices trying to find the energy for another day. He heard it all from a distance, like he was underwater.
Changbin appeared at his elbow, freshly showered, his hair still damp. He didn't say anything at first. He just leaned against the counter next to Chan, their shoulders almost touching, and waited.
"I fucked up," Chan said finally. His voice was hoarse, scraped raw by hours of silence.
"Yeah," Changbin said quietly. There was no judgment in his voice. Just acknowledgment. "You did."
"I don't know how to fix it."
Changbin was quiet for a moment. "You start by talking to her."
Chan let out a hollow laugh. "And say what? 'Sorry I told you that you don't deserve to be here? Sorry I made you flinch? Sorry I, '" His voice cracked. He couldn't finish.
"You say exactly that," Changbin said, turning to face him. His expression was serious, his eyes steady. "You say all of it. And then you let her decide if she can forgive you."
Chan shook his head. "She shouldn't. I don't deserve-"
"That's not your call to make." Changbin's voice was firm now. "You don't get to decide what she deserves. You just get to show up and do the work. The same way she's been doing every single day while you've been too in your own head to see it."
The words hit Chan like a slap. He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a door opening down the hall made him stop.
They both turned.
Y/N emerged from her room, and Chan's heart stopped.
She was dressed for practice, the same worn leggings, the same loose t-shirt, her hair pulled back in the same messy ponytail. But everything else was different. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow, dark circles so deep they looked like bruises. She moved like someone carrying something heavy, her shoulders curved inward, her steps slow and deliberate.
She didn't see them at first. She was looking at her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently. Counting, maybe. Or rehearsing. Chan couldn't tell.
Then she looked up.
Their eyes met across the kitchen, and Chan felt something crack open in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, to say her name, to say something, anything, but before he could, she flinched.
It was small, barely a movement. A slight recoil, a tightening of her shoulders, her gaze dropping instantly to the floor. But Chan saw it. He saw it like a blade to the ribs.
She didn't say anything. She didn't acknowledge him at all. She just turned and walked toward the door, her footsteps quick now, almost frantic, like she was trying to escape.
"Y/N-" he started, his voice rough.
She stopped. Her hand was on the door handle, her back to him, her entire body rigid.
"Please," she said, and her voice was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. "Please don't."
She didn't wait for him to respond. She pulled the door open and was gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click that echoed the one from the night before.
Chan stood frozen, the coffee cup cold in his hands, his throat so tight he couldn't breathe.
Changbin let out a long, slow exhale. "Give her space," he said quietly. "For now. But Chan?" He waited until Chan looked at him. "You can't let this go. You can't let her disappear into herself. You saw her. She's already halfway there."
Chan had seen her. He'd seen the hollow look in her eyes, the way she'd flinched at the sight of him, the way she'd practically fled from the room. He'd done that. He'd put that look on her face, that fear in her eyes.
He set the coffee cup down. His hands were shaking again.
Chan arrived early, as he always did, but Y/N was already there. She was in the corner, her back to the door, going through the transition in slow motion. Her arms moved through the choreography with mechanical precision, her lips counting the beats silently, her feet marking the steps with careful, deliberate movements.
She didn't turn around when he walked in. She didn't acknowledge him at all. Her shoulders tensed, he saw it, the subtle tightening of her frame, but she didn't stop moving.
Chan stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her. She was thinner than he remembered. When had that happened? When had she stopped eating properly? When had the circles under her eyes gotten so deep?
He wanted to go to her. He wanted to take her hands, to make her look at him, to tell her that he was wrong, that she was the most deserving person he'd ever met, that he'd been a monster,
But Changbin's voice echoed in his head. Give her space.
So he didn't move. He walked to his usual spot, set his bag down, and started his stretches. He didn't look at her. He didn't trust himself to.
The others trickled in over the next twenty minutes. The atmosphere was different, subdued, fragile, everyone moving carefully, speaking in hushed voices. Felix glanced between Chan and Y/N's corner, his expression tight with worry. Hyunjin kept opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again. Minho's jaw was set, his eyes hard, his usual humor nowhere to be seen.
No one mentioned last night. No one had to.
The choreographer arrived at 7:30, her clipboard in hand, her expression businesslike. She didn't comment on the silence, didn't ask why Y/N was already in position while everyone else was still stretching. She just clapped her hands and said, "From the top. Let's go."
Chan took his position. He was acutely aware of Y/N three meters to his left, her eyes fixed straight ahead, her body angled slightly away from him. The gap between them was small, just a few feet of polished floor, but it felt like an ocean.
The music started.
They moved through the first verse. It was better than yesterday, cleaner, sharper. The exhaustion was still there, but there was something else now. Something desperate. Chan could feel it in the way the others moved, like they were trying to compensate for something, to fill a space that had suddenly become too big.
The first chorus came. The formation shift. Y/N moved from the back to the front, and Chan felt his breath catch.
She hit her mark. Perfectly. Not a centimeter off, not a beat late. She landed next to him exactly where she was supposed to be, her arm brushing his for a split second before she pulled away like she'd been burned.
Chan almost stumbled. He caught himself, finished the move, but his mind was reeling. She'd pulled away from him. She'd flinched away from his touch.
The music continued. They finished the run, and the choreographer nodded slowly, her expression unreadable.
"Better," she said. "Y/N, your spacing was much cleaner. Keep that energy."
Y/N nodded. She didn't look at anyone. She didn't look at Chan.
"From the second verse," the choreographer said. "We need to tighten the bridge. Let's go."
They reset. The music started again. And again, Y/N was perfect. Her movements were precise, her timing impeccable, her form flawless. She didn't make a single mistake. She didn't miss a single mark.
Chan watched her from the corner of his eye, and his chest ached. She was moving like a machine, no emotion, no joy, no spark. She was technically perfect, but the life had drained out of her. The thing that made her Y/N, the warmth, the energy, the quiet determination that had made him fight for her in the first place, was gone.
He'd killed it.
They ran the song three more times. Each time, Y/N was flawless. Each time, she pulled away from him the moment their choreography brought them close. Each time, Chan felt something inside him crack a little more.
During the water break, she retreated to her corner again, pulling out her phone, her earbuds in, her body language screaming do not approach. The other members glanced at her, then at Chan, then away. No one knew what to say. No one knew how to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them.
Chan stood on the other side of the room, his water bottle forgotten in his hand, watching her. She was scrolling through her phone, her thumb moving mechanically, her expression blank. She looked exhausted. She looked broken. She looked like someone who was running on empty and had been for a very, very long time.
He thought about what Changbin had said. You can't let her disappear into herself.
He took a step toward her.
She looked up immediately, like she had a radar for his movement, and he watched her face shut down. The blankness became something harder, something more defensive. Her shoulders curved inward, making herself smaller. Her hand tightened around her phone.
Chan stopped. He was ten feet away from her, but it felt like a hundred.
"Y/N," he said quietly. "Can we talk?"
She didn't answer right away. She just looked at him, her eyes wide and wary, and for a moment he saw something flicker there, fear, yes, but something else too. Something that looked like exhaustion. Like she was so tired of being afraid, of being careful, of waiting for the next blow.
"I need to practice," she said finally. Her voice was flat. Empty.
"Please." He didn't mean for it to come out as desperate as it did. "Just, give me five minutes."
She looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she pulled her earbuds out, slowly, deliberately, and tucked them into her pocket. She didn't say yes. She didn't say no. She just stood there, waiting, her arms wrapped around her middle like she was holding herself together.
Chan took a breath. He could feel the other members watching, could feel their eyes on him, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the girl in front of him, the girl he'd hurt, the girl who was looking at him like he might hurt her again at any moment.
"What I said last night," he started, and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. "What I said was, it was cruel. It was wrong. I was-" He stopped, swallowed hard. "I was taking things out on you that had nothing to do with you. Things I should have dealt with. Things I should never have made you carry."
Y/N didn't move. Didn't speak. Her face was carefully, terrifyingly blank.
"I never should have said you don't deserve your spot," Chan continued, his voice rough. "That's not true. That's never been true. You-" He had to stop again, his throat tight. "You're one of the hardest working people I've ever met. You're talented. You're dedicated. You're-" You're everything I said you weren't. "I was wrong. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N."
Silence.
Chan watched her, waiting, hoping for something, a nod, a word, anything that would tell him she'd heard him, that maybe, someday, she could forgive him.
But Y/N just stood there. Her arms were wrapped tighter around herself now, her knuckles white. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor somewhere between them, not meeting his gaze.
"You don't have to forgive me," Chan said quietly. "I know I don't deserve that. But I need you to know, I meant what I said when I fought for you. I meant it then, and I mean it now. You belong here. You've always belonged here. And I'm-" His voice broke. "I'm sorry I made you doubt that."
Y/N was quiet for a long time. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, and Chan felt like he was drowning in it.
Finally, she spoke.
"Okay," she said. Her voice was soft, barely audible. But there was something in it, not forgiveness, not yet, but something. A crack in the wall she'd built around herself. "Okay."
She looked up at him then, and Chan's heart clenched. Her eyes were red-rimmed, glassy, but she wasn't crying. Not yet. She looked tired. So, so tired.
"I need to practice," she said again, and this time it wasn't a deflection. It was just… the truth.
Chan nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay."
He stepped back, giving her space, and she let out a breath, small, shaky, but there. She didn't smile. She didn't reach out. But she didn't flinch when he moved, and that, Chan realized, was more than he deserved.
She walked back to her position, her steps still careful, still measured, but there was something different in the set of her shoulders. Something that wasn't quite so broken.
Chan watched her go, and for the first time since last night, he let himself breathe.
It wasn't fixed. It wasn't even close to fixed. But it was a start. And right now, a start was all he could ask for.
The choreographer clapped her hands again. "From the bridge. Let's go."
Chan took his position. Y/N was three meters to his left, her eyes forward, her body angled toward the mirror. She wasn't pulling away from him anymore. She wasn't leaning in either. She was just… there. Present. Surviving.
It was enough.
The music started, and they moved together, nine bodies in sync, and for the first time in days, Chan felt like maybe, just maybe, they might be okay.
Y/N showed up to practice. She hit her marks. She performed with technical precision that made the choreographer nod in approval. But she was quiet. Too quiet. She didn't laugh at Felix's jokes during breaks. She didn't join Hyunjin and Seungmin when they bickered over snacks. She didn't sit with Chan during meals, didn't meet his eyes across the practice room, didn't give him any opportunity to bridge the distance that still yawned between them.
She was surviving. But she wasn't living.
Chan watched her shrink. It was subtle at first, a missed meal here, a sleepless night there. But he saw it. He saw the way her clothes fit looser, the way her smiles came slower, the way she drifted to the edges of rooms like she was trying to take up as little space as possible. He saw the way she flinched when someone raised their voice, the way her hands shook during quiet moments when she thought no one was looking.
He tried. God, he tried. He brought her coffee in the mornings, setting it next to her bag before she arrived so she wouldn't have to take it from his hands. He made sure there were snacks she liked in the practice room, the ones she used to eat before everything fell apart. He stopped correcting her during rehearsals, letting the choreographer handle it, terrified that his voice, even gentle, even kind, would send her back into herself.
But she kept slipping away, and Chan didn't know how to pull her back.
Changbin caught him in the hallway three days before the first concert of the tour. Chan was leaning against the wall, his forehead pressed to the cool plaster, his eyes closed.
"She's still not okay," Changbin said. It wasn't a question.
Chan shook his head. "She's hollow. I hollowed her out."
"You didn't-"
"I did." Chan opened his eyes, and Changbin took a step back at the look on his face. "I told her she didn't deserve to be here. I told her I regretted fighting for her. I made her flinch, Changbin. She's terrified of me, and I don't know how to fix it because every time I get close, she pulls away, and I can't blame her because I'm the one who hurt her."
Changbin was quiet for a moment. Then he said, slowly, "You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you've been trying to fix this the way you fix everything. You're trying to control it. You're trying to find the right words, the right actions, the right sequence of events that will make everything okay again." He paused. "But this isn't a choreography, Chan. You can't perfect your way out of this."
Chan stared at him.
"Stop trying to fix her," Changbin said, his voice gentle but firm. "Stop trying to manage her. Just… be there. Be present. Let her come to you when she's ready. And if she's not ready-" He shrugged. "Then you wait. However long it takes."
Twenty thousand fans packed into the arena, their light sticks a sea of shimmering color that stretched from the stage to the highest rafters. The energy was electric, a living thing that crackled in the air and made the hairs on Chan's arms stand up.
He stood in the wings, watching the chaos of last-minute preparations. Stylists flitted between members, fixing hair, adjusting micro packs. Stagehands ran final checks on the risers and pyrotechnics. The roar of the crowd was a constant hum, a wave of sound that built and built and built.
And in the corner, Y/N stood alone.
She was dressed for the opening number, a fitted black top that had once fit her perfectly, now hanging slightly loose on her frame. Her hair was styled, her makeup done, but none of it could hide the shadows under her eyes or the way she was gripping her own arms like she was holding herself together.
Chan wanted to go to her. Every instinct screamed at him to cross the room, to take her hands, to tell her that she was going to be incredible, that twenty thousand people were here to see her, that she deserved every second of this.
But Changbin's words echoed in his head. Stop trying to fix her. Just be there.
So he stayed where he was. He caught her eye across the chaos, and for a moment, just a moment, he let her see everything he couldn't say. The apology. The regret. The love he'd never stopped feeling, even when he'd been too broken to show it properly.
She looked away first. But her grip on her arms loosened, just slightly.
The stage manager's voice crackled over the headset. "Thirty seconds."
The members gathered in the darkness behind the stage, forming their opening formation. Chan took his place, his heart pounding. Y/N was three people away from him, her face illuminated by the dim backstage lights, her eyes fixed on the floor.
He closed his eyes. Please, he thought, to no one and everyone. Please let her feel this. Please let her know she's not alone.
The countdown began. Three, two, one.
The lights exploded. The music crashed. And they were moving.
The first three songs were a blur of adrenaline and muscle memory. Chan's body moved on autopilot, hitting every mark, every beat, while his mind raced ahead, cataloging the members, checking their energy, watching for any sign of fatigue or struggle.
Y/N was performing. Not the hollow, mechanical perfection she'd been showing in practice, something else. Something raw. She was throwing herself into the choreography with a desperation that made Chan's chest ache, like she was trying to prove something. Like she was trying to earn something she already deserved.
The crowd was going insane. Twenty thousand voices singing along, screaming their names, waving light sticks in perfect unison. Chan fed on the energy, let it fill the hollow spaces inside him, let it push him through the exhaustion that had become his constant companion.
But he kept coming back to Y/N.
He watched her during the first ment, standing at the edge of the formation while the others spoke to the crowd. She was smiling, a real smile, or close to it, waving at the fans in her section, her eyes bright. The fans were screaming for her, their signs held high, their voices raw with love.
Chan saw one sign near the front row: Y/N, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD. Another: WE SEE YOU, Y/N. WE LOVE YOU. A third, held by a girl with tears streaming down her face: Y/N, YOU ARE ENOUGH.
Chan's throat tightened. He looked at Y/N, wondering if she'd seen them, and saw her gaze catch on the signs. Saw her smile falter. Saw her hand drop to her side, her fingers curling into her palm.
She'd seen them.
The mnet ended. The next song started. Chan moved through the choreography, but his focus was split, his attention always drifting back to Y/N, watching for the moment when the weight of the fans' love would either lift her up or break her open.
It happened during the ballad.
They were spread across the stage, each member in their own spotlight, the arena hushed as the opening piano chords filled the air. Chan was stage left, his voice low and steady, his eyes scanning the crowd. Felix was center stage, his deep voice wrapping around the melody like a warm blanket. Seungmin's vocals soared, clear and pure.
And Y/N was stage right, her voice soft, her eyes closed, her face turned up toward the lights like she was searching for something in the darkness.
Chan watched her sing, and for a moment, she looked like herself again. The old Y/N, the one who laughed too loudly and danced too hard and loved her members with everything she had. The one he'd fallen in love with, though he'd never been brave enough to say it.
Then she opened her eyes.
Her gaze landed on the front row, where a sea of signs had been raised during her verse. Not generic signs. Signs with her name on them. Signs with words that made Chan's heart stop. Signs that made it obvious her pain was known to everyone.
Y/N, WE BELIEVE IN YOU.
Y/N, YOU BELONG HERE.
Y/N, YOUR VOICE SAVED ME.
Y/N, DON'T GIVE UP. PLEASE.
He saw the exact moment it hit her.
Her voice cracked on the next note. It was small, barely audible over the backing track, but Chan heard it. He saw her hand fly to her mouth, saw her eyes fill with tears, saw her shoulders start to shake.
She was crying. On stage. In front of twenty thousand people.
The fans saw it too. The screams that rose from the crowd weren't the usual excited shrieks, they were something else. Something softer. A wave of support that rolled through the arena, fans chanting her name, holding their signs higher, reaching toward her like they could physically hold her up.
Chan moved before he could think.
He crossed the stage in a dozen long strides, his spotlight abandoned, his solo forgotten. He was aware, dimly, of the other members adjusting around him, covering for him, letting him go. He was aware of the crowd's roar intensifying as he approached her.
But all he could see was Y/N.
She was crumbling. Right there on stage, in front of everyone, her carefully constructed walls coming down all at once. Her hands were pressed to her face, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs, her microphone hanging useless at her side.
Chan reached her. He didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, holding her as tightly as he dared, his face buried in her hair, his heart shattering into a million pieces.
"I've got you," he murmured, his voice raw, his lips against her ear. "I've got you. I'm here."
She collapsed.
Her hands fisted in his jacket, her body shaking with the force of her tears, her face pressed into his chest like she was trying to disappear into him. She was saying something, he could feel the vibrations against his skin, but he couldn't hear her over the crowd, over the music that was still playing, over the pounding of his own heart.
He pulled back just enough to tilt her face up, to see her eyes, red-rimmed and streaming, looking up at him with an anguish that made his knees weak.
"I'm sorry," he said, and his voice cracked on the words. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."
She shook her head, her fingers tightening in his jacket. "I thought-" she choked out. "I thought you didn't want me here. I thought you regretted-"
"No." The word came out fierce, desperate. "No. Never. Never, never, never." He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears that kept falling, kept falling, like a dam that had finally broken. "I was wrong. I was so wrong. You deserve this. You deserve everything. You're the strongest person I've ever met, and I was too stupid and too scared and too tired to see what I was doing to you."
"You were tired," she whispered, like she was trying to make excuses for him. Like she was still trying to protect him, even now, even after everything.
"That's not an excuse." His voice broke again. "That's not an excuse for what I said. For how I made you feel. For making you think-" He couldn't finish. The words lodged in his throat, sharp and jagged.
She pulled back slightly, looking at him through her tears. "I thought I'd lost you," she said quietly. "I thought I'd lost all of you."
Chan shook his head, pulling her back into his arms, holding her so tightly he was afraid he might hurt her, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't let go. "You didn't. You never could. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm never going anywhere."
She was crying again, but it was different this time. Softer. Less like breaking and more like healing. Her arms came up around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder, her body pressed against his like she was trying to climb inside his skin and stay there.
The crowd was still screaming. The music had faded to a soft instrumental, the other members having quietly guided the band into an extended improvisation, giving them time. Chan was vaguely aware of Felix's hand on his back for a moment, a brief squeeze of support, before he stepped away.
Chan didn't care. The only thing that existed in the universe was the girl in his arms.
"I love you," he said into her hair, the words escaping before he could stop them. His voice was quiet, meant only for her. "I love you, and I'm sorry it took me almost destroying us to say it. But I need you to know. I need you to know that I've never regretted fighting for you. Not for one second. The only thing I regret is not fighting harder for you when you needed me to."
She pulled back again, her eyes wide, her tears still falling. "Chan-"
"I know," he said quickly, his heart pounding. "I know this isn't, I know you might not, I just needed you to know. I needed you to hear it."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile broke through the tears. It was small, fragile, the first real smile he'd seen from her in weeks, and it was the most beautiful thing Chan had ever seen.
"I thought I'd imagined it. That you'd never felt anything at all."
Chan let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, pulling her close again, pressing his forehead to hers. "I've felt everything," he said. "I've been feeling it since the day you walked into that practice room and tried to pretend you weren't terrified. I was just too scared to admit it."
She laughed, a real laugh, watery and broken but real, and Chan felt something in his chest unlock. Something that had been tight and twisted for weeks, for months, maybe for years.
Around them, the crowd had settled into a steady chant. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. Twenty thousand voices, calling her name, lifting her up.
Chan pulled back, keeping one arm around her waist, and turned her toward the crowd. "Look," he said softly. "Look at them. They love you. They see you. They know what I've always known."
Y/N looked out at the sea of light sticks, the signs still held high, the faces of twenty thousand people who had come to see her, who believed in her, who were chanting her name like a prayer.
She started crying again, but this time, she was smiling. And Chan held her through it, his arms around her, his heart wide open, finally, finally where he was supposed to be.
The other members closed in around them, Felix with his arm around Y/N's shoulders, Hyunjin squeezing her hand, Jeongin pressing a kiss to her hair, Minho pretending he wasn't wiping his own eyes. They surrounded her, protected her, held her up.
And Chan stood at her side, his hand finding hers, his fingers lacing through hers, holding on like he'd never let go.
The music swelled again, the next song starting, and Y/N took a deep breath. She looked at Chan, and he saw something in her eyes that he hadn't seen in weeks.
Hope.
"You ready?" he asked softly.
She nodded. Squeezed his hand. Smiled.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm ready."
They stepped forward together, into the lights, into the music, into the love of twenty thousand voices calling her name.
And Chan knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would spend the rest of his life making sure she never doubted her place in this world again.
She deserved everything. And he would spend forever making sure she got it.
it is honestly amazing how much of writing and editing is just. logistics. like... do i use a name here or a pronoun? if i move this dialogue tag to the middle of this line and break it in half, does the end of the line hit harder that way? what if i move the tag to the front? what if i remove it entirely? ...wait, whose point of view am i in; can i reasonably say this character is appalled, or must i say they look or seem or sound appalled? is this a deliberate action or a step-removed one; is her hand closing on his shoulder, or is she closing her hand on his shoulder? environment environment environment, we need to break all this dialogue up with some narration, the scene is coming untethered. what! are! they doing! with! the rest of their bodies that are not hands! fuck fuck fuck FUCK i forgot we covered this two chapters ago and now i either need to cut this whole chunk or find a reason to reprise the conversation from earlier. name or pronoun? name or pronoun? name or pronoun? move this clause around in this sentence? oh i'll add this phrase-- nope, never mind, past!me added the same phrase two lines down. okay, if i add too much environmental narration it's going to take away from this bit, but not enough and it won't feel grounded. what if i move this to its own line? where the FUCK are their hands?
summary: mornings with seungmin are always the same, the two of you had a set routine, but nights with seungmin are always different
warnings: just fluffy and soft seungmin, small makeout session
word count: 2.2k
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ — ♡⊹˚₊𐙚⋆
a/n: the selfie he sent on bubble the other day made me crazy he looks so kissable and he’s been so bf recently it is not good for my heart i need him so bad anyways please enjoy fluffy bf seungmin i wrote this to help with the brainworms he has been giving me lately lmao tysm for reading !!!
You and Seungmin had a morning work routine for the days he was home and had a normal schedule at the company. You wake up to the same alarm and then he whines about laying in bed for five more minutes before pulling you closer in his arms and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Five minutes turns into ten and then sometimes turns into twenty. And you let him every time, which is why your alarm is set earlier than it should be.
When the two of you finally get up, you get ready for your day together. Standing next to each other in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, you giggle at his bed head, and he scowls at the way you seem too happy to be out of bed.
And when you change out of your soft pajamas, he’s suddenly awake, like he’s never seen you change in front of him before. His eyes linger on you, hands reaching to touch you, his lips finding any bare skin he can kiss before you push him away with a joking scold.
“You need to get dressed too before we’re both late.”
“Can’t help but be distracted when you’re so beautiful.”
A smirk on his face as he replies to you and like clockwork every morning you roll your eyes at him with a smile on your face before heading to the kitchen.
The two of you eat breakfast together at the dining table while the coffee machine brews Seungmin’s morning coffee for him to take in his usual tumbler he brings to the company. The one with a fading Pochacco sticker you had put on it years ago and he never removed.
While you eat, the two of you talk about what the day has in store for you. He tells you about his schedule for the day, if he’ll be home on time or if he’ll be back late.
“We have a lot of interviews and promotional videos to shoot today. But even with a packed schedule we’re supposed to finish on time so I should be back at a decent time tonight.”
“Should we order takeout instead of cooking dinner then?”
“Let’s see how I feel when I get off.”
And then he listens attentively while you tell him about yours.
“Oh that new girl is working again today.”
“The one that thinks she knows everything but is always messing up and won’t own up to her mistakes?”
“Yup she’s the one. I cannot wait to go in today.”
“Sounds like a blast.”
“You know it.”
And when you both finish eating and discussing the future of your day, you clean up after the two of you while Seungmin packs your lunch bag and makes sure nothing is missing from either of your work bags.
Eventually the company driver calls to tell Seungmin they are waiting outside, a warning for the both of you to start heading out the door soon. He grabs his coffee and both of your bags before heading towards the door.
He throws both bags over his shoulder and bends down to slip on his shoes while he waits for you. And when you appear in front of him while he is still bent down, he always grabs your shoes off the rack and helps you put them on.
“I can put on my own shoes, you know.”
“You say that every morning yet you still let me help you.”
“It’s because I like seeing you on your knees.”
“Shut up.”
When he straightens up, he always finds you standing in front of him with a smile on your face.
“Have a good day at work Minnie.”
“You too pup.”
Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you in for a gentle kiss. His lips always soft against yours and tasting slightly of coffee. You always pull away first. If you don't, Seungmin would have the both of you stuck at the entrance of your front door while he kissed you endlessly.
And when you finally pull away from his lips, he always leans in to give you another quick peck before you scold him for the second time of the morning.
“Min, we have to leave now.”
“Don’t deprive me of my morning good luck kisses.”
“They’re just morning kisses, no good luck to them.”
“You don’t know that. My day is always terrible without them.”
“You’re such a dork.”
The two of you leave your apartment with huge smiles on your faces and entwined hands. And when you both make your way downstairs to the company car, Seungmin places a final kiss to the back of your hand. His grip loosens and he hands over your bag that he always carries down for you.
“I love you. Text me when you get to work.”
“I love you too. And I always do.”
He gets into the car and looks at you one last time. You blow him a kiss and wink at him dramatically which causes him to laugh as he shakes his head at you. He should be used to it by now, you do it every morning when he leaves, but it always makes him smile.
And when the door shuts and the car drives away, the two of you finally part ways for the morning.
Mornings with Seungmin are always the same, ran like clockwork, yet the two of you never get bored of it.
— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Unlike most mornings which are set with a routine, night time with Seungmin is always different.
Sometimes he gets to come home on time so you get to wind down together, sometimes he has to stay late and by the time he gets home you are already in bed, and sometimes he doesn’t come home, having to fly out for a schedule.
Today you get off of work an hour earlier than usual. Your boss letting you go home early after you had to clean up a huge mess your new coworker caused.
You were aware Seungmin was going to have a busy day today. And when he barely texted you throughout the day, you knew it was busier than he had expected.
So with your extra time, you decide to surprise Seungmin with some kimchi jjigae for dinner. Stopping by the grocery store on the way home you grab all the ingredients you need to make his favorite dish.
When you get home, you change into some comfier clothes and start cooking. You finish cooking right as you get a text from Seungmin, letting you know that he is wrapping up and will be on the way home soon.
Settling onto the couch, you scroll aimlessly on your phone as you wait for him to get home. The pot of stew sits on the stove on low to keep it warm.
Soon enough you hear the clinking of keys and the sound of the front door opening. Turning your head towards the door you spot Seungmin as he enters your shared apartment. His hair is still styled from his full day of filming but he’s wearing the sweats he left the apartment in this morning.
You can tell he’s had a rough day by the way his shoulders look tense and the way he mutters curse words to himself as he accidentally drops his keys and struggles to take off his shoes, almost tripping over his own feet.
But the minute he looks up and spots you on the couch, his shoulders relax and his eyes soften, a smile forming on his face just at the sight of you.
He doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to you. He plops down next to you on the couch and before you can welcome him home he's grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap. Both of your knees are on either side of him as you face him.
“Long day?” You ask quietly, reaching up to mess up his professionally styled hair.
He only hums quietly in response, pulling you closer as his arms wrap around you tightly. He lets out a long sigh as he buries his face into your neck.
He relaxes into your touch as you play with his hair and the two of you sit quietly for a while before you break the silence.
“I made kimchi jjigae for dinner.”
At the sound of your words he pulls away to look at you, his brows furrowed in disbelief.
“No you didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t joke about a serious thing like kimchi jjigae. Followed your mom’s recipe that she sent me a while ago too so I hope I did it justice.”
His eyes light up like you just told him a miracle happened.
“I love you.”
“Because I surprised you with your favorite meal?” You giggle out, an eyebrow raised.
“Well that’s just a bonus. I love you because you always know how to make me feel better after a tiring day.”
“I just made dinner and then sat on the couch.”
“And I love that about you.”
“You know, you’re extra cheesy today.”
“Just missed you is all.” He whispers, leaning forwards to brush his nose against yours softly. His lips ghosting over yours as you smile at each other.
“We saw each other this morning.” You move your hands to cup his face, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks.
“And that was so long ago.”
You can’t help but tilt your head back as you let out a loud laugh at his response, causing his lips to turn down in a pout.
“Sorry sorry. Needy Seungmin is such a rare sight, he surprised me. I missed you too Minnie. Missed your silly update texts to keep me going.” Leaning forward, you gently press your lips to his to wipe away his pout. And when you pull away, he has a soft smile on his face.
You’re about to ask him if he wants to eat dinner but he cuts you off by placing his lips on yours again, catching you by surprise. The kiss is delicate and gentle, like he’s been yearning for your touch. Not in a desperate way but in a way that he was glad to finally be home, to finally be with you. He’s kissing you like it’s the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.
He unwinds his arms from around you, placing his hands on your waist as he pulls you even closer. Deepening the kiss as his fingers creep under your shirt, his cold hands coming in contact with your warm skin causing your breath to hitch.
You can feel him smile against your lips at your reaction. Your hands move up to mess with his hair again as you kiss him back. Your lips move in sync, the both of you lost in each other’s touch and forgetting about the horrors of the day that just passed. Only present in each other's embraces.
Seungmin breaks away first for once and you're the one left to chase after his lips, greedy to feel more of him. And he welcomes your lips back with a laugh and smile.
“The food is going to get cold,” he mumbles, his lips still brushing against yours, kissing you between every word.
“It’s okay,” you mummer against his lips. “The stove is on low.” The two of you fall back into the kiss, your lips moving against each other tenderly and full of love.
He pulls away again after a while, his breathing is short as he pants slightly for air. His cheeks dusted with pink and his swollen lips glisten with a slight sheen of saliva. His once styled hair is now a tousled mess and he looks at you with hooded eyes.
“Now who’s the needy one?” He teases, his swollen lips pulled into a smirk.
“Shut up.” You whine. This time it's your turn to bury your face into his neck, hiding your face from his teasing stare.
“You hungry?” He asks. His hands, still under your shirt, reach up to rub your back.
“Not yet,” you mumble into his neck. “Just want to sit here with you for a bit first if that’s okay.”
“That’s more than okay with me.” He whispers and he can feel the way you smile against his skin at his answer. “So how was your day? How was the new girl?”
“Oh, don’t even get me started,” you groan out. Leaning your head back to look at him. “I’ll rant all night long and then we would never go to sleep.”
He lets out a quiet laugh at your reply, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your forehead.
“I would listen to you complain about everything and anything every night if you let me.”
Nights with Seungmin are always different, never the same, yet the two of you never had a single complaint.
Synopsis: You spend your days writing romance, wondering when it will find you. Unaware that it’s right next-door. (20,8k words)
Author's note: Happy new year and as Hyunjin said, let's continue to live life romantically ❣️
You’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as you can remember.
Not the vague kind of wanting, either—the kind that shifts shape every few years. You knew. Even when you were younger, scribbling stories in the margins of notebooks and filling entire pages with feelings you didn’t yet have words for, you knew this was what you wanted to do. You were always drawn to love stories. To the way emotions could be stretched, heightened, made beautiful on the page. You liked the idea of writing something that made people feel… things.
So you grew up and did it. You became a writer. A romance writer, of all things.
You sit in your chair now, feet tucked beneath you, laptop warm against your thighs, and watch the cursor blink at the top of a blank page. This part should be easy. It always is. You know how to write longing. You know how to pace desire, how to make a single look feel like a promise. You know how to build a love story that burns slow and ends soft.
What you don’t know—what you never quite figured out—is how to live one.
You scoff quietly and lean back, the chair creaking in the silence of your apartment. Another night, another deadline, another fictional couple about to fall into each other’s arms right on schedule. Meanwhile, the room around you is still, unromantic in a way that feels almost deliberate. You’re still in your pajama pants. The coffee on your desk has gone cold. The crumpled papers spilling out of your trash can. Dirty dishes piling on your sink.
You write bestselling romance novels under a pseudonym. Spicy ones. The kind that get passed around group chats and dog-eared on bedside tables. Readers tell you your stories feel real. They assume you must know exactly what you’re talking about—love, intimacy, being the one true love and all.
They don’t know your name. Not the real one, at least. They don’t know that the person behind the words is sitting alone in an apartment that smells faintly of stale coffee, wondering when exactly her life veered so far from the stories she’s so good at telling.
You stare at the paragraph you wrote earlier and feel something twist in your chest. You highlight it and press delete.
Your life has never looked like this. No grand gestures, no cinematic confessions. Just routines and deadlines and the dull, persistent awareness that you are very good at writing romance and very bad at finding it.
The cursor blinks, wating. You exhale slowly, fingers hovering over the keys, and try to convince yourself that this is enough. That wanting something since you were young doesn’t mean you’re entitled to all of it. That writing about love still counts, even if it doesn’t happen to you.
Still, the thought lingers, quietly and uncomfortably.
You always believed in romance. You just didn’t expect it to feel so far away.
-
Once you’ve done the dishes, you feel a lot better and ready to get back to work.
You open a new document beneath the abandoned chapter and type a name you’ll probably change later. Male Lead. Placeholder. Temporary. You crack your knuckles and try again.
He needs to exist first, you tell yourself. The rest will follow.
You close your eyes for a second, letting the image form the way it usually does. You imagines a man leaning against a doorway. Rings on his fingers. Ink curling up his forearms like secrets he doesn’t bother hiding. There’s an ease to him, a confidence that isn’t loud but feels inevitable. Someone who looks like trouble in the way that makes people lean closer instead of stepping back.
Your fingers move as you picture him. You give him a crooked smile, a voice that carries a laugh even when he’s serious. You imagine the way he’d look at the his love interest like he already knows how the story ends.
There’s a faint thrill in your chest, the familiar hum of creation, of possibility. This is the part you’re good at—building someone from nothing, shaping desire until it feels real enough to touch.
Then, your phone rings. You flinch, eyes snapping open, the image dissolving instantly. The name on the screen pulls you fully back into your apartment, your chair, your life.
Hyunjin.
You answer without thinking. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says, sounding a little breathless, like he’s juggling things. You can picture him with the phone tucked between shoulder and ear, one hand on the espresso machine, the other probably reaching for a cup. “I hate to ask you last minute, but—are you busy?”
You glance at your laptop, at the half-formed man on the screen who will still be there later. “Not really.”
“Could you maybe pick up Archie from daycare?” he asks. “I got held up at the shop. Delivery issue. I’ll owe you. Again.”
You smile before you can stop yourself. “You already owe me, like, ten times.”
“I’ll make it eleven.”
You laugh softly, pushing your chair back as you stand. “Yeah, I can do that. I was going to take a break anyway.”
“That’d be amazing,” he says, relief clear in his voice. “Thank you. He’s probably been asking when you’ll show up.”
“He always does,” you say, fondness slipping in uninvited. Archie has a habit of spotting you before anyone else, face lighting up like you’re part of his routine—which, somehow, you are. “I’ll head out now.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Hyunjin says. “Seriously.”
“I know,” you teasingly reply with a sly smile.
You hang up and grab your keys, casting one last look at the screen before closing your laptop. The male lead stares back at you, unfinished, waiting.
-
The walk to the daycare is short, just a few blocks away, but you take your time anyway. The air outside feels cleaner than the stale quiet of your apartment, the city moving at a gentle, late-afternoon pace around you. You pass familiar storefronts, cracked sidewalks you’ve memorized without meaning to, and you feel your shoulders loosen with every step.
Picking up Archie is always like this—an excuse to step out of your head.
By the time you reach the daycare, you’re already smiling, and it only grows when you spot him inside. He sees you before you even open the door, face lighting up so brightly it almost feels unfair to everything you were brooding over an hour ago.
“You came!” he says again, like it’s a surprise every single time.
“Hi, Archie,” you softly greet, crouching down as he barrels into you, all elbows and enthusiasm. His laugh is loud and unfiltered, the kind that doesn’t worry about being too much.
Archie is a mini version of Hyunjin — dark shiny hair, small eyes, small face and even the whisker dimples that appears when he deeply smiles. In other words, he’s just as beautiful as his dad and you doubt that the mother had any part in it except for brought Archie to the world.
Walking home with Archie is your favorite part. He slips his small hand into yours, swinging it slightly as you head down the sidewalk together. The sun is lower now, bathing everything in a soft, forgiving light and he starts talking almost immediately.
“And today we had painting time,” he says, words tumbling over each other, “and Miss Laura said mine was very good but I got paint on my shirt but that’s okay because it was blue and blue is Daddy’s favorite color and then—oh!—and then we played dinosaurs and I was the big one and Leo was scared but not really scared—”
You hum and nod, letting him ramble, asking small questions at the right moments.
There’s something precious about the way he talks, like every detail matters because it does to him. His excitement is infectious, pure and uncomplicated, untouched by expectations or disappointment. You listen intently, smiling when he laughs at his own story, when he stops mid-sentence because he’s remembered something even more important.
Archie’s world is simple in the best way. Today was good. He painted. He played. He laughed.
That’s enough.
As he talks, something inside you quiets and all of your worries fade into the background. This easy companionship, this small joy — feels like a kind of rest you didn’t realize you needed.
A mental snooze, you think, smiling to yourself.
By the time the apartment building comes into view, Archie is still talking, still animated, still very much five years old and wholly himself. You squeeze his hand gently, grateful for the break, for the moment, for the way something so simple can make the world feel softer.
You don’t think about romance once on the walk home and maybe that’s exactly why it feels so good.
-
You let yourselves into Hyunjin’s apartment with the spare key he gave you months ago. Archie kicks off his shoes by the door without being told, backpack abandoned in the exact spot it always ends up. You follow suit, slipping out of yours and setting your bag down, already moving through the space like it’s your own apartment.
You know his routine by heart at this point. Snack first—apple slices today, because that’s what he asked for on the walk home. Wash hands. Cartoon on low volume while he settles. By the time you pull the coloring book from the drawer in the coffee table, he’s already climbing onto the rug beside you, crayons scattered between you like confetti. You stay with him like this while the afternoon drifts into evening, coloring shapes that don’t stay inside the lines and praising every choice like it’s the right one. Archie narrates as he goes, explaining why the dinosaur is purple today and why the sun has a face.
The front door opens just as you’re deciding whether the sky should be green or blue.
“Daddy’s home,” Archie announces casually, not bothering to look up.
Hyunjin steps inside, the door closing behind him with a tired sigh. His long dark hair is pulled into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, loose strands escaping around his small face. His shirt is wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms dusted with coffee grounds and the evidence of a long day. He looks exhausted in that specific way that only comes from being on your feet since dawn.
The fatigue softens instantly when he sees you and Archie, a warm smile spreading across his face as his eyes move from you to his son sprawled happily at your side. “Hey,” he says gently. “Daddy’s home.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Archie replies, still coloring, still firmly seated next to you.
Hyunjin pouts from the lack of enthusiasm. “That’s it? No running hug? No ‘Daddy!’?”
You bite back a smile while picking the color of the crayons.
Hyunjin drops his keys onto the counter and makes a show of sighing. “Wow. I see how it is.”
You keep coloring, glancing up at him briefly. “Tough crowd.”
He crosses his arms, pretending to think. “Well, I guess if you’re too busy to say hi, maybe you’re also too busy to have your favorite food for dinner.”
Archie gasps, drops the crayon, and scrambles to his feet, sprinting across the room. He crashes straight into Hyunjin’s legs, arms wrapping around him without hesitation.
“No! I want it! I want it!” he insists.
Hyunjin laughs, the sound easy and unguarded, and squats down to gather his son into a proper hug, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Who wants chicken noodles for dinner?”
“Me! Me! Me!” Archie enthusiastically shouts, raising his hand in the air.
Hyunjin presses a quick kiss to his temple and then brushes the hair stuck to his forehead. “Then tell me about your day.”
Archie launches right back into his stories, just as animated as before, hands gesturing wildly as Hyunjin listens, nodding, murmuring encouragement, entirely focused.
You watch them for a moment, something warm blooming quietly in your chest but decide to interrupt.
“Hey, do I get chicken noodles for dinner too?”
Hyunjin looks up at you, still crouched, still smiling. “Of course.”
“Yay!” you and Archie cheer at the same time, voices overlapping.
-
Dinner is easy in the way only familiar things are.
Hyunjin sits across from you, shoulders slumping a little now that the day is over. He looks softer like this, hair still in its messy bun, exhaustion worn openly instead of tucked away behind customer smiles and polite conversation. He thanks Archie for waiting before taking his first bite, listens patiently as his son talks with his mouth half-full, gently reminds him to chew.
Hyunjin wasn’t always this version of himself. You know that. Two years ago, before you moved into this building, his life cracked open. A divorce that didn’t explode but still left wreckage. A toddler who suddenly became his whole world. He doesn’t talk about it often, only in small, honest pieces when it comes up naturally. You know enough to understand that it wasn’t bitter—just sad. That sometimes things don’t survive, even when people try. You fall in love and that means, you can fall out of love too.
Now he’s a single dad, doing his best, owning a coffee shop three blocks away. The place is an extension of him—warm, welcoming, unpretentious. The kind of café where people linger without being rushed, where names are remembered and regulars are greeted like friends.
That’s how you met him, actually.
Your first day in the apartment building, arms full of boxes and memories, the knock came before you’d even figured out where the mugs went. Hyunjin stood outside your door with a basket of pastries balanced on one arm and two cups of coffee in the other, Archie tucked against his leg like a shadow.
“Hi, we’re your next-door neighbors,” he’d said, smiling a little shyly.
“I’m Hyunjin and this…” he placed a hand on the little boy’s shoulder. “This is my son, Archie.”
You remembered offering a warm smile at them as you introduced yourself back to them. Then, you crouched down to his Archie’s level to greet him. “Hi, Archie. I hope we can be friends.”
Archie had taken one look at you and decided, immediately, that you were safe. He’d clung to your leg like you’d known each other forever, peeking up at you with wide eyes while Hyunjin apologized profusely. You hadn’t minded. Not even a little.
Somehow, that moment became the foundation for everything that followed. You’ve been living next to each other in quiet harmony ever since—borrowing things, sharing food, watching Archie when shifts run late. It was never something you sat down and defined. It just… happened. Slowly. Naturally.
After dinner, Archie sits patiently while you dab at the sauce smeared around his mouth with a napkin. He squirms, protesting more out of habit than anything else, and you laugh quietly as you catch the last stubborn streak on his chin.
“All clean now,” you announce.
Hyunjin is already moving around the kitchen, stacking plates, rinsing them before setting them in the sink. The space feels smaller when he’s in it—occupied in a comforting way. You stand halfway, instinctively ready to help.
“I’ve got it,” he assures you.
You hesitate, then settle back into your chair, watching as he works.
There’s something unhurried about the way he does things, even when he’s tired. He doesn’t rush through motions; he finishes them properly.
“Archie,” he says gently, glancing over his shoulder. “Wash up and change into your pajamas, yeah?”
“Okay, Daddy,” Archie replies, sliding off the chair and padding down the hallway.
The apartment goes quieter once he’s gone, the absence noticeable in the best way. Hyunjin turns back to you. “Coffee?”
You tilt your head, considering. “Actually… do you have something harder?”
He snorts, entirely unimpressed. “Decaf it is.”
You chuckle softly. “I didn’t say yes to that.”
“You didn’t say no either,” he counters, already reaching for the coffee canister.
You watch him as he scoops the beans into the grinder, measuring by instinct rather than sight. His sleeves are still rolled up, forearms relaxed as he grinds the coffee patiently, listening to the sound like it tells him when it’s ready. He pours the grounds into the filter, taps it just once to level it, then slowly starts pouring hot water over it. The coffee blooms, dark and rich, dripping steadily into the pot.
Hyunjin is handsome in a way that sneaks up on you. Not flashy. Just… solid. Familiar. His profile softened by concentration, his movements careful and practiced. You’ve watched him do this countless times, but it still feels oddly hypnotic—like witnessing a ritual.
You lean your chin into your hand. “You know,” you say lightly, “you could just give me instant coffee and save yourself the trouble.”
He looks at you like you’ve personally offended him. “Where’s the romance in that?”
You scoff and lean back on your chair. “Pfft… Romance? But that’s my job. I’m the one who writes romance books, and look at me.”
That earns his attention as if he’s just remembered something. “How’s the writing going? Did you start the new one yet?” he asks, tone casual but curious.
“Barely. I keep trying, but everything feels off. Ideas slip away before I can grab them.” You hesitate, then sigh. “I think it’s because my life lacks romance.”
Hyunjin hums, noncommittal, as he pours the coffee into two mugs.
“I’ve been single for years,” you continue, words spilling easier now. “I barely go out. I sit at home and write about love all day, and the only thing I share my bed with is my laptop. There’s nothing romantic about that.”
“What you do is romantic,” he says calmly, handing you a mug.
You roll your eyes. “My readers would think I’m a fraud if they knew who I really am. How I live.”
He smiles at that, unfazed. “So what do you expect to happen, then?”
You take a sip, thinking. “I don’t know. I just think that it’d be a good time for my dream man to walk into my life.”
He chuckles, almost teasing. “What, a knight in shining armor? A prince on a white horse?”
You glare at him. “Dead wrong.”
“Oh?” He leans against the counter, amused. His eyes are on you, giving all of his attention.
You straighten slightly, warming to the idea. “Someone different. Someone confident. I don’t mind a tattoo or two. Piercings, maybe. Creative. A little reckless. Someone who feels like he stepped out of a story.”
Hyunjin laughs. “I’ve got at least three regulars like that at the shop.”
“I am not shopping for men at your coffee shop,” you say, scandalized.
Before he can reply, small footsteps thunder down the hallway.
Archie reappears in a dinosaur onesie, arms raised proudly. “Look!”
You coo immediately, setting your mug down and kneeling. “Oh my god. You’re too cute.”
You lean back just enough to take a good look at Archie, noticing the way he’s almost outgrown the onesie — proof of how much he’s grown. “Please, stop growing up! You have to stay like this forever,” you murmur as you pull him for tight hug.
“No!” Archie protests. “I wanna be big. Bigger than Daddy.”
You grin, then stand as you realize it’s time for you to leave so the boys can settle gently into the night. “I should head back. You’ve got bedtime duty.”
You hug Archie tightly, wishing him goodnight, then turn to Hyunjin. “Goodnight.”
You walk up to the counter, picking up the mug to take it home with you.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin says quietly. “For today.”
“No worries,” you reply while raising the mug of coffee. “I live right there.”
It really is just across the hall.
Your apartment greets you with its familiar clutter—notes, books, your open laptop waiting where you left it. You sigh, sinking back into your chair, fingers finding the keyboard again.
This time, you don’t scoff. You take a sip of your coffee and start to write.
-
Morning arrives with a dull knock cutting through the haze of sleep.
You groan, lifting your head with effort, neck stiff from the angle you fell asleep in. Your chair creaks as you shift, and the screen in front of you flickers awake when your knee nudges the desk. The cursor blinks insistently in the middle of a paragraph, proof that you were writing right up until sleep claimed you without permission.
Figures.
The knocking comes again, firmer this time. You glance at the clock on your screen and wince. Too early. Definitely too early. You scrub a hand over your face and push yourself up, legs protesting as you stand. Your reflection in the darkened laptop screen is… rough. Bed hair pointing in every direction, yesterday’s clothes wrinkled and clinging, glasses still abandoned somewhere on the desk.
“Coming,” you call out, voice hoarse with sleep.
You gather your hair into a messy bun with one hand, shove your glasses onto your nose with the other, and shuffle toward the door, bare feet dragging softly across the wooden floor. In your foggy head, the picture is already formed—Hyunjin on the other side, coffee in hand, apologetic smile ready, probably here because he needs your help to take Archie to kindergarten.
The knock comes again.
“I said—coming,” you mumble, fingers fumbling with the lock.
You twist the knob and pull the door open. You freeze because it is not… Hyunjin.
It’s someone else entirely. Someone with a gummy smile, leaning casually against the doorframe like he’s got nowhere else to be. Someone with overgrown dark, permed hair falling into his eyes, silver glinting faintly at his ears. Tattoos peek out from the sleeveless top he’s wearing, ink curling along skin like it belongs there. He looks awake in a way you decidedly are not—alert, amused, taking you in with a slow, curious glance.
For one disorienting second, you wonder if you’re still asleep at your desk.
“Uh,” he says, lips quirking. “Hi, I’m your new neighbor.”
Your brain lags behind the moment, scrambling to catch up. Glasses slightly crooked. Hair a mess. Heart doing something inconvenient.
This—this is impossible.
Because standing in front of you, framed by the hallway light, is someone who looks alarmingly like the man you were imagining just hours ago.
The dream man.
-
For a second, you just stare at him.
Your brain refuses to cooperate, still caught somewhere between sleep and the impossible coincidence unfolding in front of you. He shifts his weight slightly, waiting, the hallway light catching on the silver at his ears.
“I’m Han,” he says, like this is normal. Like he didn’t just step straight out of your half-written chapter.
“I moved in just now. Next door.” He gestures vaguely toward the apartment beside yours. “I was wondering—do you happen to have a hammer I could borrow?”
A hammer. The word floats around uselessly in your head.
“Oh—uh—yeah,” you say finally, far too late. “I think so. I mean. I think I do. Somewhere.”
Without giving him time to respond or yourself time to think, you turn and retreat back into your apartment.
The door closes behind you, and you stop in the kitchen, gripping the counter. You glance at your reflection in the microwave door and immediately regret every life choice that led you here. Messy bun threatening to collapse. Glasses slightly crooked. Old, faded T-shirt. Bare feet. Absolutely not the first impression you imagined giving your dream man. You groan softly, then remember—he’s still waiting.
Right. Hammer.
You drop to your knees and rummage through the bottom cabinet, dragging out a dusty toolbox you don’t even remember buying or having. You flip it open, hopeful for half a second. No hammer.
You sigh, push yourself up, and head back to the door. Han is still there, patient waiting with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, flustered all over again. “I don’t actually have one. But—I know someone who does.”
He smiles easily. “Lead the way.”
You cross the hall before you can overthink it, unlocking Hyunjin’s door and letting yourself in like you always do.
Hyunjin is at the counter, packing Archie’s lunch into his backpack with practiced efficiency. “Hey,” he says without looking up. “Coffee’s—”
You clear your throat. “Uh—Hyunjin?”
Hyunjin turns and pauses when he sees someone else with you.
Han steps forward slightly. “Hey. I’m Han. The new neighbor.”
Hyunjin blinks once, then smiles politely. “I’m Hyunjin. And this is Archie.”
Archie looks up from the sofa where he’s wrestling with his socks. “Hi,” he says cheerfully.
Han waves. “Hey, man.”
“I just needed to borrow a hammer,” Han adds.
“Sure, just give me a second,” Hyunjin says immediately, already heading down the hallway.
While he’s gone, you suddenly find the ceiling very interesting. The floor, too. Anywhere but Han. You drift over to Archie instead, crouching down to help him tug his sock over his heel.
“Your sock’s inside out, buddy,” you murmur.
“It’s fine,” Archie says seriously.
Hyunjin returns with the hammer, handing it over. “Bring it back whenever.”
“Thanks,” Han says. “Appreciate it.”
Then he’s gone, door closing softly behind him.
The second it clicks shut, you straighten and practically vibrate.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you freak out, flailing your hands and pacing the room.
“Did you see him?” you whisper fiercely. “Hyunjin, that’s him. That’s exactly him. I literally described someone like that last night. Tattoos, piercings—this could be it. This could actually be it. Romance might finally be—”
Hyunjin doesn’t say much, moving around the apartment, grabbing Archie’s jacket, checking his bag. You keep talking anyway, words tumbling out unchecked.
“And the timing? He just shows up? Like that?”
He finally stops, crouching to help Archie into his shoes. “You can tell me the rest later,” he says gently. “We’re going to be late.”
“Oh. Right.”
He gestures toward the counter where the coffee pot rests. “Coffee’s fresh.”
Archie hops off the sofa and walks over to you. “Bye.”
You kneel and hug him tight. “Have the best day, okay?”
“Okay!”
Hyunjin grabs his hat and jacket, ushering Archie toward the door. “Don’t forget to lock up,” he says to you.
“I won’t. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
The door closes behind them, leaving the apartment quiet again. You stand there for a moment, coffee steaming on the counter, heart still racing.
Next door, somewhere beyond the wall, Han exists.
And suddenly, romance doesn’t feel so far away after all.
-
The next few days pass in a strange, quiet blur.
You don’t mean to observe him at first. It just… happens.
You start noticing patterns the way you always do when you’re building a character—small details that stack up without you realizing you’re collecting them. The sound of a door opening down the hall. Footsteps on the stairs. A low hum of music bleeding faintly through the walls at odd hours.
Han leaves his apartment late in the mornings, usually when you’re already awake but pretending not to be. You learn this by accident the first time, standing in your kitchen with a mug of coffee cooling in your hands when you hear his door open. You peek through the peephole without thinking, and catch a glimpse of him slipping his jacket on, keys already in hand.
After that, you notice it more.
Some days he leaves closer to noon, hair still damp like he showered in a rush. Other days, it’s earlier, sunglasses perched on his head even when the sun isn’t particularly bright. There’s a guitar case slung over his shoulder more often than not, stickers peeling at the edges like it’s been everywhere with him. Not sure if he plays guitar as a hobby or it’s his job or… he’s in a band. Either way, you like the fact that he plays guitar.
Then, you start recognizing the sound of his return, too. The way he unlocks his door without fumbling. Sometimes it’s early evening. Sometimes it’s well past midnight, the hallway quiet and dim when he finally comes home. On those nights, music filters faintly through the wall—something fast and chaotic, not loud enough to be intrusive, just present enough to let you know he’s there.
You pass him in the hallway once, hands full of groceries. He flashes you an easy smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” you reply, a little too quickly.
Another time, you’re both waiting for the elevator. He smells faintly of smoke and soap, a combination that shouldn’t work but does. He asks how your day’s been. You say “good” even though you’ve spent most of it staring at a blinking cursor.
Sometimes you hear him humming under his breath when he locks up. Sometimes he nods at you with a tired grin, like you’re already familiar.
Nothing progresses. Nothing happens. But you notice everything anyway.
The days settle into a rhythm that now includes him, threaded quietly through your routine. You find yourself timing your coffee refills, your trips out, your walks to the mailbox, hoping that you might run into him. Sometimes you do. Sometimes you don’t.
At night, when you sit back down at your desk to write, the male lead in your book starts to look a little different. His habits more specific. His movements more familiar. You tell yourself it’s coincidence.
Still, when you hear Han’s door click shut down the hall, you pause mid-sentence every time.
Just for a second. Just long enough to wonder.
-
By the third day, you stop pretending it’s accidental. You know his timing now—give or take five minutes. So you wait by your door, already dressed, laptop bag slung over your shoulder like an alibi. You ditch your glasses in favor of contacts, smooth your hair, take one last look at yourself in the mirror. Different. Awake. Presentable. The kind of person who looks like they might casually exist in the same world as someone like Han.
You intently listen through the door and right on cue, you hear the soft click of a lock down the hall.
You give it two seconds, just enough to make it believable and then step out into the hallway, locking your door behind you with practiced ease. You keep your face calm as you press the elevator button.
Against the pulse drumming in your ear, you can hear his footsteps approaching.
“Hey,” Han says first, voice easy.
You turn, heart jumping anyway. “Hey.”
The elevator arrives with a soft ding. He steps aside, holding the door for you. “After you.”
“Thanks,” you mutter as you step in, standing a little too straight as he follows.
The doors slide shut, and suddenly it’s just the two of you, enclosed in a space that feels far too small for how aware you are of him. Silence settles and you can only hope he can’t hear the way your heart beating out of your chest.
You inhale quietly, then force yourself to speak. “That’s a guitar, right?” you ask, gesturing toward the case on his back.
He glances over his shoulder, lips twitching. “Yeah. I’m in a band. Kinda lame, though.”
You chuckle despite yourself. “I don’t believe you.”
He grins. “Yeah, me neither.”
The elevator hums as it descends. He looks at you. “You heading somewhere?”
“Yeah,” you say, grateful for the question. “Going to do some writing at the coffee shop.”
“Oh.” He raises his brows. “You’re a writer?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“What kind of stuff?”
To say that you write romance kind of… uncool. You hesitate for half a beat—just long enough to decide. “Just some lame books.”
He laughs, the sound warm and unguarded. “Welcome to the club then.”
The elevator chimes, doors sliding open onto the lobby. He steps out first this time, glancing back at you. “Have a good day.”
“You too.”
Outside, you part ways—him heading down the street in the opposite direction, guitar case bouncing lightly against his back. You turn toward Hyunjin’s coffee shop, heart still racing, a smile you don’t bother hiding tugging at your lips.
Nothing monumental happened. No sparks. No declarations. But it feels like a win anyway.
You know something new about him now and somehow, impossibly, he feels even cooler than before.
-
Madeleine has been a staple of the friendship between you and Hyunjin. He brought a basket full of them when he first introduced himself to you and you gushed to him about how delicious they were the next day.
Since then, Hyunjin always has madeleines waiting for you in the coffee shop, baked specially for you. He slides a tray onto your table with a soft clatter—still warm and dusted lightly with sugar, a cup of freshly brewed coffee steaming beside them. He’s in his apron, sleeves rolled up, dark hair tied into a messy bun that’s halfway given up after the morning rush.
“So,” you start immediately, leaning forward like you’ve been holding this in your lungs the entire walk here, “I talked to him.”
“Mhm,” Hyunjin hums, already turning to grab a stack of abandoned mugs from the table next to yours.
“In the elevator,” you add. “Casual. Natural. Effortless. Very rom-com coded.”
“That’s great,” he says, distracted, balancing cups in his hands.
“And he’s in a band,” you continue, lowering your voice like it’s a secret meant only for the two of you. “A band, Hyunjin.”
He pauses just long enough to glance at you. “Is he?”
“Yes. Guitar. Very cool about it too. Like, oh, this old thing energy.”
Hyunjin exhales through his nose, amused despite himself, and resumes gathering dishes. “And you’re already sure he’s your great romance?”
You nod emphatically. “I know.”
“How?” he asks, genuinely curious now.
You blink at him. “Duh. I’m a romance writer.”
He snorts. “Right.”
“I can feel these things,” you insist. “The timing. The vibe. The guitar case. It’s all very—meet-cute adjacent.”
Hyunjin sets the cups down behind the counter and looks at you. “So are you actually planning to write today, or did you just come here to gush about Han?”
“I am writing,” you defend quickly. “I just need inspiration first.”
He arches a brow. “Does that mean you came here just because you wanted to run into him again?”
You grin, unrepentant. “I came for multiple reasons.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And one of them,” you add, reaching for a madeleine and taking a bite, “is your coffee. And these. Which are amazing, by the way.”
That finally gets him—a small smile tugging at his mouth despite the skepticism. “Flattery won’t save you.”
A customer steps up to the counter, and Hyunjin straightens, slipping smoothly back into barista mode. “Be right with you,” he says before glancing back at you. “Write something. Don’t just stare at your screen.”
“I’m trying,” you shoot back.
He shakes his head fondly and turns away. You open your laptop, the familiar glow lighting up the table, coffee warm under your hands, crumbs dusting the page of your notebook.
You let Hyunjin fade into the background again—the soft hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of ceramic, the low murmur of the shop settling into its late-morning rhythm. Your fingers finally move, words spilling onto the screen in uneven but earnest lines. It’s not perfect, but it’s something, and something is better than the blinking cursor that haunted you all night.
You’re mid-sentence when a ripple of giggles drifts in from the table beside yours.
“…I’m telling you, he’s so handsome.”
“And a single dad,” another voice adds, breathless. “That’s, like, illegal.”
You quietly glance over the next table, two girls leaning close, whispering like they’re sharing state secrets, eyes flicking not-so-subtly toward the counter where Hyunjin stands as he warmly chats with a customer. He laughs at something, head tipping back just slightly, and the girls nearly lose it.
You press your lips together, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
Of course. Of course Hyunjin draws this kind of attention. He exists in soft mornings and warm smiles and freshly brewed coffee. He lives romance without trying, while you—ironically, tragically—sit here writing about it like it’s a distant myth.
A flicker of jealousy settles in your chest, gentle but undeniable. Funny, isn’t it? You think. The one who writes love stories hasn’t lived one in years, while the man steaming milk three feet away inspires them just by existing.
-
Archie’s hand is warm and a little sticky in yours as you walk him to kindergarten, his backpack bouncing with every step. He’s talking about a game they played yesterday, about how today he might get to be the line leader—and you hum and respond at all the right places, smiling because this is easy. This part always is.
You stop just outside the gate where his teacher is already waiting, clipboard tucked under her arm, cheerful as ever. She greets Archie by name, and he lights up like he’s been waiting all morning for this exact moment.
You crouch down, smoothing his hair with your palm before pulling him into a hug. “Have fun, okay?” you say softly.
“I will!” he promises, already half-turned toward his friends. He waves at you with all the enthusiasm a five-year-old can muster before being gently ushered inside, and you wave back until he disappears through the door.
Only then do you straighten, exhaling. As you start the walk home, you pull out your phone and text Hyunjin.
Archie’s in school. Safe and happy.
You don’t expect an instant reply, knowing that Hyunjin will be too busy to even check his phone. You slip the phone back into your pocket and continue down the sidewalk. Enjoying the way the city quiets down as most people have already settled into their routine — work, school, business to do.
You slow when you see a hair salon sits on the corner, the owner flipping the sign on the front door to ‘Open’. You glance at your reflection in the glass without meaning to—messy bun, familiar length, the same look you’ve had for… how long, exactly?
The thought lands quietly, then blooms. Maybe it’s time for a fresh cut.
Not because of certain someone. Not because of a guitarist next door or the way your heart keeps doing stupid things lately. You scoff under you breath, shaking your head.
Before you can overthink it, or talk yourself out of it, you reach for the handle and step inside.
Almost an hour later, you walk out of the salon feeling… lighter and also strangely exposed.
The cut sits differently against your neck, unfamiliar when the breeze slips past it. You keep catching your reflection in car windows as you walk—tilting your head, squinting, deciding you don’t hate it, deciding you’re not sure yet.
Maybe it’s just the shock of seeing yourself altered. Maybe it’s the quiet fear that you’ve changed something you can’t quite take back.
You check your phone and find a reply from Hyunjin.
Your treats are ready, ma’am.
-
The café is calmer than the morning rush—no frantic office workers lined up three-deep, just a handful of people lingering at tables. Someone reads a newspaper by the window. Someone else scrolls on their phone, coffee cooling between their palms.
You step inside and wait at the counter while Hyunjin finishes filling an order. He moves with practiced ease, apron tied snug around his waist, hair pulled into that familiar messy bun that always looks like it took zero effort and somehow still works.
When he finally looks up, he pauses just a second too long. But you catch it immediately.
Your hand flies to your hair. “Why? Is it bad?” you blurt out before he can say anything.
Hyunjin tilts his head, still can’t decide.
Your insecurity creeps in. “That bad?” You ask, anxiously touching your hair.
Hyunjin blinks, then shakes his head. “No. It looks good on you. You look beautiful.”
The knot in your chest loosens almost instantly. You smile, small and a little shy, fingers still brushing the ends of your hair. “Thanks.”
He reaches under the counter and pulls out a tray, the smell of freshly baked madeleines drifting up between you. “What do you feel today? Milk or no milk?” he asks, knowing that your coffee’s preference is based on your mood.
An idea comes to mind at the sight of the warm, sweet-smelling madeleine. You hesitate but before you can second-guess yourself, you shake your head.
“Actually, can you pack those to go? And… make two coffees?”
Hyunjin arches a brow, curious but amused. “Two?”
You nod, feeling something spark under your skin. Determination, maybe. Or nerves. Or both.
“I’m done waiting for romance to happen,” you say, half-joking, half-serious. “I think I want to try making it happen instead.”
Hyunjin studies you for a moment—really looks at you, at the new haircut, the way you’re standing a little taller than usual.
Then he smiles as he repeats your order. “Romance to go, coming right up!”
-
Your palms are a little sweaty around the paper bag and the two coffee cups as you stand outside Han’s unit, heart thudding like it’s trying to break free of your ribs.
You rehearse a few openings in your head. Something cool, something effortless, something that says it’s all casual instead of the fact that you’ve been overthinking it for ten minutes straight.
After a moment, you settle simple. Hey, I came here to drop these.
You mentally rehearsed the sentence in your head. You inhale, then knock.
You can hear music bleeding through the door, it’s loud and chaotic, it’s impossible for him to hear you knocking. You knock again, louder this time. Still nothing. By the third knock, you’re practically pounding.
Finally, the door swings open. Han smiles the moment he recognizes you.
“Hey, I—”
But then he turns and walks back inside, door left open behind him. No explanation, no pause.
You stand there for half a second, wondering if you’re supposed to follow or… You settle on the former, stepping into his apartment on hesitant feet.
It’s… exactly what you expect. Bare in places, cluttered in others. A guitar leaning against the wall. Jackets tossed over a chair. A very single-man kind of space.
He crosses the room and turns the volume down on the record player, the music softening into something you can finally hear without it rattling your bones.
“Sorry,” he says over his shoulder. “Didn’t hear you knocking.”
“It’s fine,” you reply quickly, trying to sound like you didn’t nearly talk yourself out of this. Your eyes drift to the record player. “What’re you listening to?”
“It’s one of my favorite bands.” He lifts the sleeve so you can see it.
Sex Jerkers. The band name makes your eyebrow raises for a second, definitely never heard of them. You lean in anyway, nodding like this is extremely familiar territory.
When he straightens, he looks at you expectantly. “So… can I help you with something?”
Right. This. The reason you’re here.
“I came here to drop these,” you say it casually like you didn’t rehearse it in your head for the last ten minutes. “Coffee and some warm madeleines.”
“Oh—thanks. That’s really nice of you.” His expression softens, gesturing toward the counter. “You can put them there.”
You do, carefully setting everything down. And then… nothing. Your mission is complete. You hover, suddenly aware that you hadn’t planned beyond deliver baked goods. Well, you kind of imagined that he’d tell you to have a set and enjoy the goods together.
But Han is pacing now, grabbing his keys, checking his phone. Definitely getting ready to leave.
“Are you heading out?” you ask, aiming for casual again.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m late for band practice.”
“Oh,” you reply, nodding. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
You turn toward the door, ready to make a graceful exit—only to stop short.
Han pulls his T-shirt over his head like you’re not even there. Not even the slightest bit of hesitance. Then, it’s just skin, warm and honey skin—toned, solid, tattoos spilling over his right shoulder and down his side. Too bad you can’t read the rest of the tattoo as it’s disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans that is… slung low… on his hips. Your eyes pivot to the way his pelvic bones narrowing down to—
You gulp and look away immediately. “Sorry—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
He chuckles, soft and easy. He grabs a clean T-shirt and seamlessly puts it on. “I should be the one apologizing. Didn’t exactly treat you like a proper guest. I’m in a bit of a rush.”
“It’s fine,” you say quickly, mortified and flustered and very aware of your pulse. You step toward the door to get out of his way.
He grabs the coffee cup, lifting it slightly. “I’ll eat the cookies later. Thanks again.”
You nod, mumble something that might be no problem, and the two of you step out into the hallway together. You move toward your door, suddenly very invested in unlocking it slowly and calmly like a normal person.
Before you can, Han steps closer and gently catches your arm. The contact is brief—but it sends a jolt straight through you.
“Next time,” he says, raising the coffee cup with a grin, “it’s my treat.”
Then he’s gone, striding toward the elevator. The doors slide shut, and he flashes you one last smile before disappearing.
You wait until you’re safely inside your apartment to let out a squeal.
God. That was a rush.
You press your hand to your arm where he touched you, where the warmth lingers, skin buzzing like it’s been struck by lightning.
And a tad bit romantic.
-
Your desk feels familiar again, the half-finished sentence blinking patiently at you like it knows you’ll come back eventually.
Out of curiosity, purely out of curiosity—you open a browser tab and type in the band name Han mentioned. You click the first result and—
Chaos.
Loud, unfiltered, crashing straight into your apartment like it owns the place. It’s messy and raw. You let it play, tapping your fingers against the desk, imagining Han in the middle of it all—guitar slung low, lost in the noise.
You didn’t hear it until you see the door swings open.
“What god-awful sound is that?!”
Hyunjin stands in your doorway, jacket still on, keys dangling from his fingers, face twisted in genuine offense.
You shrug as you stand from your chair, entirely unbothered. “Why? It’s cool.”
His forehead wrinkles like you’ve just spoken another language. He opens his mouth and closes it, then sighs. “Can you turn it down? I need to tell you something.”
You grin and comply, pausing the music. The sudden quiet feels loud in comparison. You turn to face him properly.
“Thanks,” he says, then clears his throat. “So uh…”
“Yeah?” you ask, letting him know he has your full attention.
“Archie has a school play this weekend.”
“Oh,” you say, immediately brightening.
“It’s this Saturday. He asked if you’d come.”
“Yes,” you answer without even thinking.
Hyunjin blinks. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”
You wave him off. “Romance can wait for a day.”
That earns you a soft, fond chuckle from Hyunjin. He holds his hand out at you, showing you a foil-wrapped packet he’s been holding in his hand.
“What’s this?”
“Egg sandwich,” he says. “Archie asked me to make it. I figured I’d make one for you too.”
The second you feel the warmth and catch a whiff at it, you tear the foil open and take a bite, humming immediately, eyes fluttering a little at how good it is.
“This is so good,” you say, mouth full, completely unashamed.
Hyunjin shakes his head, amused. “Enjoy it.”
He heads back toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Saturday. Ten a.m.”
“Saturday, ten,” you repeat, still chewing.
You hear his laugh—warm, real—just before the door clicks shut behind him.
You swallow, smile to yourself, and sit back down at your desk, crumbs on your fingers and music still paused on your screen.
Everything feels… full. In a way you hadn’t realized you were missing.
-
You don’t usually dress like this.
Most days, you live in comfort and practicality—things you can sit in for hours, things that don’t demand to be seen. But tonight, you have to put a little effort as you have a meeting with your agent which guarantee an adult conversation that doesn’t involve coffee orders or five-year-old bedtime routines.
You settle on a simple dress, just enough to feel intentional. A little color on your cheeks, concealer to cover the sleep you didn’t get, a swipe of lipstick to brighten the whole look. You study yourself in the mirror for a second longer than usual, then decide it’s good enough.
When you step out into the hallway, the elevator arrives like it’s been summoned on cue.
The doors open to reveal Hyunjin and Archie—hands linked, a grocery bag hooked over Hyunjin’s arm.
“Hold it!” you call, hurrying forward.
Hyunjin reaches out and keeps the doors open without a second thought.
Archie looks up at you, eyes going wide. “You look beautiful. Like a princess,” he says, completely earnest, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world.
You stop short, flustered. “Thank you so much, Archie,” you reply softly, smiling at him.
Hyunjin glances at you but his eyes seem to betray him as they sweep over you, head to toe and back to your face. Something flickers across his face before he masks it with a small smile. “Where are you heading?”
“Meeting my agent,” you say, already stepping into the elevator. “And I’m running a little late.”
As the elevator descends, you press your back lightly against the wall, heart still fluttering—not from nerves about the meeting, but from the way Archie’s voice had sounded so sure.
Beautiful. Like a princess.
You breathe out slowly and straighten your shoulders.
Tonight, at least, you believe it.
-
The bar is dim in that intentional way. You sit across from your agent, legs crossed, fingers wrapped around a glass of water you ordered on purpose, laptop bag tucked neatly by your feet.
She flips through her notes while you talk. You tell her about the new book. The premise, the tone, the themes you’re circling. You don’t give away too much, just enough to prove that the story exists, that it has potential, that you’re not stalled even if it sometimes feels like you are.
She listens, nodding, humming thoughtfully. “Okay,” she says eventually, satisfied. “It’s taking shape. I can hear it.”
Relief loosens your shoulders and the meeting winds down quickly after that.
She checks her phone, grimaces. “I’ve got another thing I need to run to.”
“That’s fine,” you say, already gathering your bag.
“But,” she adds, standing, “you’re having a drink before you go.”
“Oh—no, I wasn’t planning to—”
Too late as she steers you toward the bar with a firm hand on your elbow like she’s done this a hundred times before. “Sit,” she says, pointing to a stool.
You sigh but comply, sliding onto the seat. You don’t plan on drinking as you have Archie’s play to attend tomorrow and you can’t show up with a hangover.
She flags down the bartender with a sharp lift of her fingers. “Make her your finest cocktail. And don’t let her leave until she finishes it.”
“I really don’t need—” you start.
Then you hear the bartender’s voice. “Got it.”
You turn on your stool and Han stands behind the bar. Your brain short-circuits so hard you almost laugh.
Your agent doesn’t notice as she’s already slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Enjoy,” she says cheerfully, before disappearing into the crowd.
Han lifts an eyebrow, a slow smirk curling at his lips as recognition settles in. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, eyes locking onto yours.
“Clearly,” you manage.
He reaches for a shaker, smoothly pouring the concoction into it. “Guess I’ve been instructed not to let you escape.”
His gaze flicks back up to you, amused. “I’ll make sure of it.”
You realize, somewhere between the ice clinking in the shaker and the easy way Han moves behind the bar, that you’re barely paying attention to the drink in front of you.
You watch him instead. The way he takes orders, leaning in just enough to hear people over the music. The way his hands work automatically, confident, practiced. He looks like he belongs here in a way that’s different from the next-door neighbor Han, and the contrast makes your chest feel tight in a way you’re still learning to name.
When he finally comes back to you, he glances at your glass. “You haven’t finished it,” he says, mock-serious. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
Your cheeks warm but you quickly say, “No, the drink is fine.”
You convince him by taking a small sip of it, wincing at the sourness biting at your tongue.
He smirks and tilts his head. He drops his voice just a notch as he adds, “or are you just trying to linger?”
That does it. You straighten on the stool, flustered. “I—no. I mean—yes, it’s good. The drink. It’s good.”
He grins like he’s won something.
“So,” you say, eager to redirect, “do you work here?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he replies. “Lame band by day, lame job by night.”
You laugh. “You really love that word.”
He shrugs. “How about you?”
“I was meeting my agent,” you say. “Talking about my lame book.”
That earns you a soft chuckle. “Seems like we’re both very successful people.”
Somehow, your glass is empty before you realize it. Han notices immediately.
“Another?” he asks.
You hesitate—then decide you’re already here, already buzzed, already smiling more than usual. You’re sure one more drink won’t be a problem. “Okay. Just one more.”
He makes it while looking at you this time, not rushing, like there’s nowhere else he needs to be. When he’s done, he grabs another glass and pours something for himself.
“Wait,” he says.
You pause with your hand wrapped around the glass.
“I’ll be drinking with you this time,” he says, taking a glass and pouring liquor into it.
He raises his glass toward you. “Cheers.”
You clink glasses, take a sip, feel warmth bloom low in your chest.
“So,” he says, leaning forward on the counter, close enough that you can see the little mole on his cheek, “you gonna tell me about this book?”
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the dim lights. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like he actually wants to know.
You smile, slow and teasing. “If I tell you,” you say as you lean forward, “I’d have to kill you.”
He laughs and it’s loud and unguarded. “Didn’t know you were like this.”
You bite your lip, surprised at yourself too. “Neither did I.”
And for the first time, you realize you’re not pretending.
This version of you—the one flirting back, the one lingering on a barstool, the one letting romance exist without trying to write it into shape—she’s real and she’s having fun.
The flirting settles into something easy from there. Small smiles, lingering looks, the kind of banter that hums quietly beneath the noise of the bar. Han leans in when he talks to you. You laugh a little more than usual. Time slips by without either of you really noticing.
When he gestures toward your glass again, eyebrow lifting, you already know what he’s going to ask. “Third round?”
You hesitate—then shake your head, regretful but firm. “I can’t. I’m a lightweight. If I have another, I’ll be drunk.”
“Then I’ll take you home,” he easily says with a smirk and crinkle in his eyes. “Perks of being neighbors.”
The way he says it makes your stomach flip. You smile and honestly, tempted because you want to say yes. You want to stay. To keep talking, keep hovering in this warm, buzzing space between possibility and intention.
But you remember Archie’s play and you promised Hyunjin that you’ll come.
“I really can’t,” you say gently. “I promised someone I’d be up early.”
Han nods, understanding settling in without complaint. “Fair.”
“I should close my tab,” you add.
“I’ve got it,” he says, already reaching for the register.
You insist anyway, sliding your card across the counter. He gives in with a soft laugh, hands it back once everything’s done.
“Get home safe,” he tells you.
You smile. “I will. Thank you.”
As you step away from the bar, you glance back just in time to see him disappear into the crowd—slipping between bodies, back into the rhythm of the place like he was never yours to begin with.
Your heart is still racing as you head for the door.
And somehow, you’re okay with that.
-
The kindergarten hallway is chaos in its purest form.
Parents crowd every available inch, teachers herding small bodies in mismatched costumes with the patience of saints. You weave your way through it all, scanning faces until you spot Hyunjin exactly where he said he’d be—standing just outside Archie’s classroom, hands in his pockets, looking only mildly overwhelmed.
You reach him and grab his arm. “I’m here, I’m here.”
He turns, breaks into a smile, and immediately hands you a tumbler. “For you.”
You scoff, grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Figured you’d need it.”
Soon enough, the teacher starts ushering everyone toward the small auditorium. You and Hyunjin end up in the middle rows, close enough to the stage that Archie will be able to spot you, close enough that Hyunjin keeps glancing around like he’s trying to mentally map every possible angle.
A couple seated nearby turns toward him. “You’re Archie’s dad, right?” the man says.
Hyunjin stands to greet them, and you rise automatically with him, offering a polite smile. The woman looks between the two of you, eyes warm with curiosity. “I’ve seen you picking Archie up a few times,” she says to you. “Are you his mom?”
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin assures her easily, and after a few more pleasantries, they return to their seats.
You and Hyunjin sit back down. You lean in, whispering, “Did she thinks I look old enough to have a child?”
He snorts softly. “And you’ve only realized it now?”
You elbow him without thinking.
He yelps—loud.
“Shh,” he stage-whispers immediately, rubbing his side. “It’s about to start.”
The lights dim, chatter quiets, and the curtain begins to lift.
Archie stands there in a tiny bunny costume—floppy ears slightly crooked, face paint smudged just enough to make it even cuter. You bring a hand to your mouth without realizing it, eyes wide.
“Oh my god,” you whisper. “He’s so cute.”
Beside you, Hyunjin is already in full dad mode. Camera up. Finger clicking nonstop. Leaning forward in his seat like he can somehow get closer through sheer will alone. You stifle a laugh as you watch him, completely unapologetic, documenting every second.
Then Archie’s eyes scan the audience and the moment he spots you and his dad, his whole face lights up. He sings louder. Dances harder. Arms swinging with enthusiasm that has nothing to do with choreography and everything to do with being seen.
This is what people meant when they say showing up matters. You feel something warm bloom in your chest as you wave subtly, smiling so hard your cheeks ache.
Hyunjin lowers the camera just long enough to catch it too, eyes shining.
The performance is chaos in the best way—off-key singing, uneven dancing, pure joy radiating from the stage and when it ends, the room erupts into cheers.
Everything feels full. Loud. Soft. And dare you say… kind of romantic.
-
Lunch turns into a small celebration without anyone needing to say it out loud.
The three of you sit around the dining table, plates of spaghetti in front of you. You keep gushing about the play because how could you not? You’re telling Archie how amazing he was on stage, how brave, how cute, how the bunny ears were the best part. You reach over with a napkin, gently wiping sauce from the corner of his mouth.
Hyunjin watches the whole thing with a quiet smile, elbow propped on the table, eyes soft.
Archie, meanwhile, tries very hard to act cool about the praise. He shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like he didn’t just steal the entire show.
“Do you know how cute you were with your bunny ears and painted nose?” you ask, dabbing the spaghetti sauce on his chin.
“I know,” Archie answers without a beat.
You and Hyunjin exchange a look, both surprised and amused before letting out chuckles.
Then, Archie looks at his dad. “Daddy, can I have ice cream after this?”
Hyunjin doesn’t even blink. “I think you have enough for today, don’t you think?”
Archie frowns.
You lean forward on the table, leaning close to Hyunjin. “But he worked really hard. Plays are exhausting.”
Archie’s eyes light up. He turns fully toward Hyunjin and puts on his best puppy eyes, voice dropping into a soft, pleading whine. “Pleaaase?”
You join him, tilting your head, widening your eyes in exaggerated innocence. “Please…”
Hyunjin looks between the two of you. His resolve lasts exactly two seconds.
“…Fine,” he sighs. “Ice cream.”
“Yay!” you and Archie cheer in unison.
Hyunjin shakes his head, defeated but smiling as he’s walking to the fridge to get the hard-earned ice cream for the three of you.
The afternoon stretches gently after lunch and nap time always wins. Hyunjin gently lays Archie into his bed, adjusting the blanket, brushing hair from his forehead with a tenderness that makes your chest ache just a little.
In the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of water, suddenly aware of how tired you are—how keeping up with a five-year-old is a full-body workout.
Hyunjin joins you, voice low. “Can I have a glass?”
You nod, pour another glass, and the two of you settle back at the dining table, shoulders relaxed, the day finally catching up.
“So,” he says casually, “how’s the romance going?”
You snort softly. “Straight to it, huh?”
He shrugs.
You tell him about last night. About meeting your agent. About Han. About the drinks, the flirting, the way it felt different from anything you’d expected. How the whole thing felt serendipitous.
Hyunjin listens, then smirks. “Didn’t think you even knew how to flirt.”
You smack his arm lightly.
He yelps quietly this time and immediately clamps a hand over his mouth, glancing toward Archie’s room.
“Worth it,” you whisper.
He grins. “So what happens next?”
You shrug, staring into your glass. “I don’t know. Potentially, a date? I just… don’t know if he’ll ask.”
“What do you even like about him?” Hyunjin asks, genuinely curious.
“He’s cool but also… hot,” you pause to let out a shy giggle. “He’s confident. I like how he carries himself, the intensity.” You start listing things you like about Han but it all sounds familiar even as you say it.
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “You know a lot for someone you’re not close with.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m getting there.”
He smiles, satisfied. “Good luck then.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but soft. The kind that settles after a good day. But then reality nudges you — writing to do, book to finish.
“I should go,” you say, pushing yourself up your chair.
“Wait a second,” Hyunjin says, getting up from his chair and reaching for his bag.
A while later, he returns with a paper in his hand and hands it to you. From the glasses and the way he colored the hair the same as yours, you believe it’s Archie’s drawing of you.
“His teacher shared the drawings Archie made at school,” Hyunjin shares.
When you look up from admiring the drawing, you find Hyunjin’s eyes on you, soft and earnest.
“Thank you for coming today,” he says quietly. “Archie was sad his mom couldn’t make it. It meant a lot to him that you came. To me.”
Your throat tightens, not expecting that your presence meant a great deal to someone. “You know I’d do anything for Archie,” you say honestly. Then, playfully, “Not for you.”
He chuckles. “Sure.”
You fold the drawing and hold it close to your chest. “I’m going, okay?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin nods but there’s this look on him that seems reluctant to let you leave.
You linger by the doorway to flash him a smile and say bye. “Don’t miss me too much, yeah?”
Hyunjin grins. “I’ll try.”
You walk out of his apartment, cross the hall and step back into your own. Before sitting down to write, you stick Archie’s drawing on the wall next to your desk. Every time you stop and see it, you can’t help but smile.
-
It’s Wednesday’s afternoon and you’re tucked into your usual corner at Hyunjin’s coffee shop, laptop open, fingers moving steadily. Words blur into paragraphs, paragraphs into pages. You don’t realize how long you’ve been there until you lift your cup and find it empty. You frown at it like it personally betrayed you because you really need the caffeine.
Before you can stand, a shadow falls over the table. Hyunjin appears, already setting down a fresh cup of coffee and a small tray of madeleines, warm and dusted lightly with sugar.
“Oh—thank you,” you say, looking up.
He just smiles, then takes your empty cup and disappears behind the counter.
You take your first sip, humming softly in approval, when you hear the giggling. As expected, a group of girls by the counter accept their drinks from Hyunjin, whispering to each other, cheeks flushed, eyes following him a little too obviously. You shake your head with a fond kind of disbelief.
Hyunjin is completely oblivious to the effect he has on people — girls, specifically.
The door opens and your brain stalls when you see the person who’s just stepped into the coffee shop. Han with sunlight briefly framing him before the door shuts behind him. You don’t know why your first instinct is to duck, but you try anyway—lowering your head, hiding behind your laptop like that’s going to save you. Too late though as his eyes land on you instantly and flashes you a smile.
Shit.
He heads to the counter and you watch as he and Hyunjin exchange pleasantries before taking his coffee order — Ice Americano, less ice with extra shot. While waiting, Han walks straight over and drops into the chair across from you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You smile but it comes out a little stiff. “Hey,” you weakly greet.
He flashes you his gummy smile. “Hey, what’re you doing?”
“Writing,” you say casually, like your heart didn’t just kick into a faster rhythm.
“Can I see?”
You scoff. “I’d still have to kill you.”
He chuckles softly, then goes quiet. He looks at you, noticing something on you. “You cut your hair.”
Well, you cut it like days ago but it feels nice that he finally noticed it. You nod, suddenly hyper-aware of it. Of how it sits today. Of how you styled it without thinking much about why.
“It looks good,” he says.
Before you can respond, Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the shop. “Han!”
Hearing his name on Hyunjin’s lips makes something odd twist in your chest.
The chair scrapes as Han stands. “That’s me.”
He excuses himself to grab his coffee, and the second his back is turned, you glance at your laptop screen—using the dark reflection to fix your hair, smooth it behind your ear, adjust yourself just enough.
When Han comes back, you pretend to fiddle with your laptop.
He stops by your table again with a coffee in his hand. “Hey, uh—my lame band is playing at this bar on Friday. I’d love for you to come.”
He tilts his head and playfully adds, “If you’re up for seeing a lame band.”
You chuckle, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I’d love to see your lame band.”
“It’s Friday night,” he adds.
“Friday night,” you repeat, nodding.
“I’ll see you then,” he says with a smile, satisfied, then heads for the door.
You wish him a good day, and just like that, he’s gone. You wait exactly three seconds before abandoning your table and marching to the counter.
“Oh, my God. Did you hear that?” you whisper-rant at Hyunjin, who’s cleaning the espresso machine.
“What? I only heard him ask you to see his lame band,” he says.
“He asked me out.”
Hyunjin pauses. “That’s… not what I heard.”
“It’s indirect,” you insist. “But it… is.”
He hums, unconvinced. You decide to ignore that part entirely and focus on the important thing—you were right. You’re getting closer to Han.
“That’s good then,” Hyunjin says with a small smile before moving away to hand off another order.
You don’t let yourself think too hard about his reaction but walk back to your chair. You stare at your laptop, trying to continue writing but your mind is already elsewhere.
Friday night. What to prepare. What to wear. What to expect.
-
Friday night arrives faster than you expect.
You stand in front of your mirror longer than usual, tugging at fabric, tilting your head, changing your mind twice before settling on something that feels right. Something special but not loud about it. Effortless, you tell yourself. Like you didn’t think about this all week.
You smooth the material down, check your reflection again. Good. You look like yourself. Maybe a slightly braver version.
Your phone buzzes on the counter, face-down, and your heart does a stupid little jump even though you haven’t checked it yet.
You’re buzzing, restless, excited. For the past two days, your imagination hasn’t given you a moment of peace.
You imagine walking beside Han down a dim street, shoulders brushing. You imagine him on stage, guitar slung low, eyes finding you in the crowd and staying there. You imagine him stepping offstage, a little flushed, walking straight toward you like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. You imagine drinks. Laughter. The easy kind that comes from being a little buzzed and a little brave. You imagine him leaning in close at the end of the night, voice low, mouth warm against yours. You imagine him coming back to your place. You imagine—
You stop yourself with a sharp inhale, heat rushing to your cheeks.
Okay. Enough.
You shake your head, laugh under your breath, and turn back to the mirror. You adjust your hair, add one last touch. Just enough to feel confident. Just enough to feel like tonight matters.
You don’t need to imagine anymore. You grab your bag, take one last look at yourself, and smile.
Tonight, romance is going to happen.
-
The bar is louder than you expected.
Not bad—just… a lot. The music vibrates through the floor, bass-heavy and messy, and Han’s band takes the stage with confidence that makes the crowd cheer before they even start. You watch him from where you stand near the back, guitar slung low, hair falling into his eyes. He looks good up there like this is exactly where he belongs.
You smile. You really try to.
But as the set goes on, you realize you’re not listening for the music anymore—you’re listening for how it makes you feel. And the feeling never quite arrives. The songs blur together, loud and chaotic, and while the crowd is jumping and shouting lyrics back at him, you’re nursing your drink and wondering how long you’re supposed to stay before it’s polite to leave.
When Han finally comes offstage, he’s flushed and glowing, adrenaline still buzzing through him.
“Did you like it?” he asks, hopeful.
You nod. “Yeah. You were great.”
And he was. That’s the frustrating part.
He introduces you to his friends and they’re loud and affectionate but already halfway drunk and suddenly you’re bar-hopping, squeezing into cramped spaces, shouting conversations over music you don’t know.
Han keeps a hand at your lower back, guiding you through the crowd, ordering drinks without asking what you want.
It’s not unkind. It’s just… unfamiliar.
At one point, you’re sitting on a sticky barstool, watching him laugh with his bandmates, and it hits you—this isn’t a date. You’re not being chosen. You’re being folded into his night.
You thought you knew him. Or maybe you thought you wrote him.
The version of Han in your head is quieter, more attentive, someone who’d lean in to hear you speak instead of leaning away to greet someone new. You realize, with a strange calm, that none of that is fair—to him or to you.
When he finally looks back at you and asks, “You good?”
you smile and say, “Yeah. Just tired.”
It’s the truth. Just not the whole one.
Later, when he walks you home and kisses your cheek instead of your lips, you feel relief instead of disappointment.
When you close your door behind you, the silence feels kinder than the noise ever did. You sit on your bed and laugh softly to yourself. Not because it went badly. But because it didn’t go wrong—it just didn’t go right.
You don’t cry. You just stare at the wall and think about how you’re going to need time to understand what that means.
-
The days after Friday blur together quietly.
You’re back at your desk, laptop open, fingers moving more out of habit than inspiration. The room is dim except for the warm pool of light from your desk lamp, the kind of night where the world feels paused just enough for thoughts to get loud.
You’re mid-sentence when a knock sounds at your door. Your heart jumps—annoyingly hopeful, annoyingly wary.
You move to the door, peeking through the peephole first because you’re not ready. Not ready to see Han. Not ready to smile politely and pretend you didn’t dismantle an entire version of him in your head.
Thankfully, it’s Hyunjin.
Relief washes through you so quickly you almost laugh. You open the door and step aside to let him in. “Hey, come in.”
He softly smiles when he sees you, but there’s something else there too—a quiet concern that sits just beneath the surface.
“So Archie is at his mom’s,” he says instead, lifting the plastic bag in his hand. “And I can’t finish all these dumplings myself.”
You smile and usher him toward the kitchen. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“Thought I’d share the burden,” he replies easily.
You eat in comfortable silence, the clink of chopsticks against plates filling the gaps. It feels grounding, the simplicity of it.
After a while, Hyunjin glances at you and asks, “How’s the book going?”
“I’ve been writing a lot lately,” you simply answer.
“Is that why I haven’t seen you much?”
You nod.
He hums, accepting it, and the quiet settles again—this time heavier, waiting. Then, gently, “How was the date?”
You sigh before you even realize you’re doing it. Your shoulders slump, and you stare at your plate for a moment longer than necessary before finally speaking.
“I think I’m stupid,” you say, letting out a soft, sarcastic laugh. “For believing there’s such a thing as a dream man.”
Hyunjin’s expression sharpens, not with judgment, but concern. “Did Han do something?”
You shake your head. “No. That’s the thing. It’s not him.”
“Then who?”
“My expectations,” you say quietly. “I projected this whole character onto him. Built this romance in my head and expected it to just… happen.”
You laugh again, but it’s hollow. “So I guess that’s on me. Maybe I don’t deserve romance after all.”
Hyunjin’s chair scrapes softly as he shifts closer. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, warm and steady, rubbing small, comforting circles into your back.
“What makes you think that?” he asks gently.
You don’t answer right away.
“You’re so busy looking for romance,” he continues, “that you don’t realize how romantic the things you do already are.”
You turn your head to look at him, comforted but unconvinced, and he notices. He always does.
“I watch you work and know how hard you worked on your writing.”
You scoff lightly. “You’re biased.”
“And your book,” he adds. “It feels warm. Like… it cares about people.”
You shake your head. “How would you even know?”
He hesitates for half a second and admits, “I read it.”
You snort. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he insists, smiling sheepishly. “Archie always wants to know what I’m reading, so I keep it in my bedside drawer and only read it before bed.”
That gets a real laugh out of you, shaking your head but warmth blooming in your chest despite yourself.
Then Hyunjin’s hand moves from your shoulder to your jaw. He cups your face gently, thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.
“You’re amazing,” he says, looking straight into your eyes. “You write beautifully. What you create entertains people. It warms them. What could be more romantic than that?”
Something in you cracks open—not painfully, but softly. Your heart trembles at how genuine he is, how steady, how sure. How he knows the words you needed to hear.
You place your hand over his and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you whisper.
For a moment, the two of you staying like that, sitting in a comfort that doesn’t need imagining to exist.
Another moment later, you rinse the last plate and set it carefully on the rack while Hyunjin dries his hands on a dish towel, leaning against the counter like he belongs there—like he always has.
“Oh,” he says casually, as if it just crossed his mind. “I’m taking Archie to the aquarium this weekend.”
He adds quickly, a teasing lilt in his voice, “I know there’s absolutely nothing romantic about going to the aquarium with a divorced dad and his kid. But… I thought it might help take your mind off things a little.”
It is a good idea since you’ve been cooped up in the apartment for the last few days but still, you pretend to consider it for a moment just to tease him. Then you break into a smile and nod, “…Yeah, I’d like that.”
Hyunjin nods, clearly pleased but pretending not to be. “Cool. I’ll pack lunch,” he says, already planning. “You can treat us to ice cream.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, was it?”
“Nope.”
You sigh dramatically. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
When everything’s done, he pauses and leans over the dining table, hands propped against it. “Are you going to continue writing tonight?”
“It seems like it, yeah,” you answer.
“Just… make sure you rest too,” he says.
You promise with a nod, even if you’re not sure you’ll keep it.
At the door, you thank him again and reach for the handle, but before you can open it, Hyunjin gently pulls you into a hug. It’s long and tight, like he’s trying to pass something to you through sheer closeness. Warmth. Comfort. His real, solid presence.
You don’t resist. You melt into it, arms wrapping around him, breathing him in, catching the faint smell of coffee clinging to his clothes. It feels nice. Too nice.
When you pull back, he doesn’t let you go right away. His hands stay on you, just enough to keep you close. Your eyes meet and for a split second, something sparks right in your chest.
Hyunjin swallows, then murmurs, “Goodnight.”
Only then does he let go.
“Goodnight,” you breathe back, still a little breathless as he steps out and the door clicks shut behind him.
You stand there for a moment longer than necessary, heart thudding, unsure of what just happened—
Only that it stole your breath anyway.
-
The aquarium entrance looms ahead, glass doors glinting under the sun, and Archie is already bouncing on the balls of his feet. His hands are warm in yours, small fingers threaded tightly as he wedges himself between you and Hyunjin.
“Ready?” Hyunjin asks, glancing down at him.
Before either of you can answer, Archie jumps.
You and Hyunjin instinctively lift your arms, hoisting him up for a few seconds, his laugh bursting out loud and uncontained before you set him back down.
“Again!” Archie demands immediately.
You exchange a look with Hyunjin, his mouth already twitching with a smile and do it again. And again. Until Archie’s laughter turns into breathless giggles and the line starts moving.
The moment you step into the aquarium, Archie goes quiet. His eyes widen, reflecting the blue glow of the tanks as fish glide past the glass like living brushstrokes. He lets go of your hand without warning, darting forward with a gasp.
“Wait—Archie!” you call, hurrying after him.
He presses his face close to the glass, pointing excitedly, words tumbling out too fast for you to catch. You slow him down, gently steering him from tank to tank, trying and failing to keep pace with his excitement.
Behind you, Hyunjin lingers, unbothered. He lifts his camera, capturing the way Archie’s mouth drops open in awe, the way you crouch beside him, explaining fish names you half-remember.
“Are you even helping?” you call over your shoulder.
Hyunjin chuckles, snapping another photo. “You’re doing great.”
You shake your head, breathless and smiling, while Archie tugs at your sleeve, already dragging you forward. In the next exhibit, you take the camera from Hyunjin without asking, fingers already curling around the familiar weight of it.
“Hey—” he protests.
“It’s your turn!” You say as you aim the camera at him.
Then Archie gasps, pointing at the massive tank ahead, and Hyunjin lifts him up without another word. Archie settles easily in his arms, one small hand braced on Hyunjin’s shoulder as he leans closer to the glass.
Schools of fish glide past them, slow and hypnotic, and something bigger passes in the shadows, making Archie suck in a sharp breath.
“Dad,” he whispers, reverent.
You raise the camera and Hyunjin doesn’t even realize you’re taking pictures at first. His head is tilted slightly toward Archie, his arm secure around him, thumb rubbing absentminded circles against Archie’s back.
There’s a softness in his face you don’t see often—unguarded, fond, full in a quiet way. You press the shutter again and again, capturing the warmth of it, the way love looks when it’s lived in.
When Hyunjin finally glances over and notices you, he raises an eyebrow. “You done?”
“Not even close,” you say, snapping one last photo as Archie laughs at something swimming past.
You move on to the touching pool after that, Archie skipping ahead while sucking on a juice box, already announcing to anyone who’ll listen that there are baby sharks inside.
You peer into the shallow tank, watching the small, sleek shapes glide through the water. “I don’t know about this.”
Hyunjin grins. “They’re harmless.”
You shake your head, folding your arms. “Easy for you to say.”
Without hesitation, Hyunjin rolls up his sleeve and dips his hand into the water. One of the baby sharks swims close, brushing past his fingers. He doesn’t flinch.
“See? Totally fine.”
Purely out of curiosity, you slowly lower your hand into the pool. The water is cool, your pulse loud in your ears as a small shark swims toward you. You watch it intently, holding your breath—
Hyunjin suddenly yelps and at the same time, his hand shoots out and grabs yours under the water.
You scream, jerking your hand back so fast you nearly stumble. “Hyunjin!”
He bursts out laughing, loud and unapologetic, doubling over as you stand there mortified, heart racing.
“Oh my god,” you hiss, slapping his arm again and again. “What is wrong with you?!”
“I couldn’t help it,” he laughs, failing to dodge your hits.
Archie giggles uncontrollably from the side, juice carton forgotten in his hand. “You scared her!”
“You’re both terrible,” you mutter, cheeks burning as a few nearby visitors glance over with amused smiles.
Hyunjin finally lifts his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Worth it.”
You glare at him, but it doesn’t stick. Not with Archie laughing like that. Not with the warmth still lingering from the moment before. Still, you give Hyunjin one last slap for good measure.
“Absolutely not forgiven,” you say but you can see Hyunjin’s smile only goes wider.
By the time the three of you arrived home, Archie is completely out—head tucked under Hyunjin’s chin, mouth slightly open, limbs loose from a day filled with too much excitement and too much food.
You unlock the door into Hyunjin’s apartment with the spare keys you have and hold it open while Hyunjin steps inside. He heads straight for Archie’s room, disappearing down the hallway, and you move to set the backpack down, lining up the jacket, placing the little sneakers neatly by the door.
The sight of Hyunjin’s camera catches your attention so you pick it up and allow yourself to sit on the sofa.
There are so many pictures of Archie—him pressing his nose to the glass, arms spread wide like he’s trying to become a fish; him crouching near a tank, mimicking the posture of a stingray; him baring his teeth proudly like the statue of the sharks next to him. You smile without realizing it.
Then there are photos of you and Archie together. One where you’re pointing excitedly at something in a tank while Archie looks up at you like you’ve just told him a secret. Another where you’re laughing, head thrown back, completely unaware.
You pause on one photo in particular of you standing slightly to the side, Archie right next to you, both of you staring at a tank full of glowing jellyfish. The light bathes everything in blue and violet, soft and dreamy.
It’s… aesthetic. Hyunjin takes beautiful pictures. Which also annoys you because he’s just so good at everything.
You scroll again and realize the next few are unmistakably the ones you took. You can tell because they’re not as composed. Slightly crooked. Too close. Taken with a kind of rushed affection.
You continue scrolling and then stop when you find a picture of you. Your face turned toward the glass, expression relaxed, almost thoughtful. The glow from the tank kisses your cheekbones, your eyes soft, unguarded. There are more like it—small moments, stolen from angles you didn’t know he was watching from.
They’re different. Taken with such great care. Tender. Almost… romantic.
“You know,” Hyunjin’s voice cuts in, amused, “I should’ve taken a picture of you freaking out at the touching pool.”
You yelp softly and turn, immediately slapping his arm. “Don’t you dare.”
He laughs as he sits beside you on the sofa, close enough that your shoulders nearly touch. You hand him the camera back, then lean into the cushions with a long sigh. “You know,” you say, staring at the ceiling, “your life is way more romantic than mine.”
Hyunjin tilts his head. “How is that so?”
You count them off without even looking at him. “You have a beautiful, loving son. You own a coffee shop. You brew your own coffee. You bake. You have… secret admirers. You take beautiful photos like this.” You gesture vaguely. “And that’s not even all of it.”
Hyunjin hums thoughtfully and then, narrows his eyes at you. “Secret admirers?”
You grin and bump your shoulder lightly against his. “The girls at the coffee shop. The giggling. The whispering. The very obvious swooning.”
He scoffs, trying to look indifferent. “I don’t notice that.”
“Oh, come on,” you tease. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
He chuckles, shaking his head, but you catch the faintest hint of pink at the tips of his ears.
You shift closer without really thinking about it—your legs tucked under you now, Hyunjin’s shoulder warm against yours.
Hyunjin clears his throat, then says, almost too casually, “You know… there are a few romantic things about you too.”
“A few, huh?” you scoff, turning toward him.
He smiles, that soft one he only ever wears around you, and leans back into the sofa. “A few. Yeah.”
You cross your arms together, unimpressed yet curious. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I think it’s romantic when you’re writing at the coffee shop,” he starts with a soft smile. “You don’t notice anything around you—your coffee going cold, people coming and going. The sunlight hits you just right and it’s like you’re… glowing. Like you’re somewhere else.”
Your breath catches, just a little. Not expecting that.
“I think it’s romantic the way you use words,” he continues. “You make people feel things. You make me feel things, even when you don’t realize it.”
You swallow because your chest suddenly feels tight.
“I think it’s romantic when you enjoy my coffee and my madeleines like they’re something special,” he adds, quieter now. “When you come over and I find you and Archie on the floor, coloring or laughing like you belong there.”
His eyes meet yours.
“And I think it’s romantic that you’re always there,” he says. “When I need help. When Archie needs someone. When I’m too tired to ask.”
The air between you thickens, crackles.
Then, softer, almost vulnerable, he says, “And I think… there’s something romantic between you and me.”
You smile shyly, heart stuttering. “You and me?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin doesn’t even try to hide it.
You decide to be playful about it. “Okay, I guess we’re… kind of romantic.”
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he leans in just a fraction, gaze deepening, voice dropping low and warm.
“Should we make it more romantic?”
Your heart pounds so loud you’re sure he can hear it. But there’s no panic. No urge to pull away. Just this steady, grounding warmth like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
“I guess we can make it romantic,” you answer, breathless and a little trembling.
Hyunjin’s hand comes up gently, like he’s afraid of startling you, and then, the next thing you know, his lips are on yours, soft and plush. The kiss is tender, almost innocent, like a promise instead of a question.
You melt into it, eyes fluttering shut. Because this—
This feels romantic.
-
You pull away first, breath shaky, your hand flying up to cover your lips like you need to physically hold yourself together.
Hyunjin’s lips are a little swollen, a little red, still glossy from the kiss, and the sight of him looking worried like that almost makes you laugh. “What? Did that feel weird?” he asks quietly.
You’re still processing the way your heart is racing, the way your body feels warm and light and grounded all at once. Then you nod.
“It feels weird because…” you say honestly. “It doesn’t feel weird at all.”
He exhales a laugh, soft and relieved, shaking his head like he should’ve known better. He doesn’t rush you, rush this moment. Then, carefully, like he’s asking permission with every movement, he reaches up and brushes your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His fingers linger there, warm against your skin.
You don’t expect to feel this with Hyunjin, whom you’ve known for years and you’ve comfortably shared part of your life with. You hesitate for a second and then glance up at him through your lashes. “Can we uh… can we try again?”
His smile this time is slow, sure. “Yeah.”
You scoot closer, close your eyes, and lean in first. And you expect to feel his lips on you soon, but no. Instead, you feel his hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs warm against your cheeks. He presses a kiss to your eyelid. Then the other. A soft one to your cheekbone. A lingering kiss along your jaw that makes your breath hitch.
When your lips part and a breathless gasp escaped your lips, only then does he kiss you again.
This time, you don’t hold back. The kiss deepens naturally, carrying you both somewhere heavier, warmer. Hyunjin leans in until you’re sinking into the cushions, the sofa dipping beneath you, his body braced carefully above yours—close, but never careless.
When he pulls away, it’s only to trail kisses along your jaw, your neck, lower—each one slow enough to make your head spin.
You try to stay quiet. You really do. But the soft, breathless sounds slip out anyway.
He catches the last one with a kiss that steals what little air you have left. When he finally pulls back, he stays hovering above you, eyes dark, amused and tender all at once.
“You okay?” he asks.
You give him a shaky thumbs-up.
He laughs quietly, brushing your hair away from your face again. “Good.”
Then, his eyes look deeply into yours and says, “I know the part of me that says ‘divorced, single dad’ doesn’t sound very romantic.”
He punctuates it with a quick kiss to your lips. “But,” he adds, lingering close, his mouth grazing yours, “it does mean I’m pretty confident about the… spicy parts.”
He pauses, searching your face, the teasing replaced with care. “We can stop. Or we can move forward. It’s up to you.”
Still breathless, cheeks burning, you try to sound casual. “Yeah. I think we can… move on to the spicy part.”
He chuckles, clearly delighted, and you immediately cover your face with your hands, mortified.
“Don’t look at me.”
Instead of teasing you, Hyunjin scoops you up without warning.
You squeal, clapping a hand over your mouth as reality kicks in that Archie is sleeping. “Hyunjin—"
Your hands clutch at his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as he carries you down the hallway. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, heart pounding, warmth blooming everywhere.
“I’m just,” he adds softly, “trying to make it more romantic.”
Somehow, it already is with the way he carries you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and the care in it makes your chest ache.
Hyunjin lowers you onto the bed slowly, one hand braced beside your head, the other still steady at your waist like he’s afraid of letting go too soon. He hovers above you again, eyes searching your face, and then his lips find yours—soft at first, then deeper, dizzying.
It goes on like that. Kissing. Shifting closer. Bodies pressing together until the room feels smaller, warmer, filled with nothing but breath and heat and the quiet creak of the mattress beneath you.
It all starts to feel like too much in the best, overwhelming way. You pull back gently, resting your hand against his chest. “Hyunjin… give me a second.”
He immediately stills. “Yeah. Of course.”
He stays close but doesn’t touch, giving you space without leaving. You use the moment to really look at him. His eyes are softer up close. You trace the little mole under his left eye with your fingertip, your touch feather-light, like you’re afraid he might disappear if you press too hard. Your thumb brushes over his lips, plush and slightly swollen from kissing you.
You’ve known him for years, seen him almost every day, but never like this. Never this close. Never with this quiet, electric romance humming between you.
Hyunjin is so beautiful it steals the air from your lungs.
“God,” you murmur without thinking. “You’re… really beautiful.”
His mouth curves into a smile, shy and amused all at once. “But you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Hyunjin shifts, sitting up. His fingers move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one.
Your eyes widen, heart pounding, you’re helpless under him and absolutely not complaining. You bring a hand to your mouth, biting back any sound as he shrugs the shirt off, exposing his toned arms, his chest, the quiet strength in the lines of his body. Heat rushes through you, settling everywhere all at once.
Hyunjin glances down at you, clearly enjoying the reaction, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So,” he asks softly, “what do you think?”
You swallow. “I’m thinking… a lot of girls would be really jealous of me right now.”
Something curious pulls at you then. Your hand reaches for him, hesitant, half-convinced he’s just a figment of your imagination. He notices immediately and takes your hand, pressing it flat against his chest.
“I’m very much real, yeah,” he jokingly says with a soft chuckle.
You touch him gently, reverently, like it’s something sacred. “I didn’t expect this under the dad sweaters and barista apron.”
He scoffs lightly. “Hey. I look good in those.”
You meet his eyes. “Well, honestly, you look good in everything.”
That makes him smiles, soft and pleased. He leans down again, bracing himself carefully above you, and captures your lips in a long, deep kiss that pulls you right back under him.
And whatever line there was between romantic and something more… it fades quietly, willingly, as you let yourself follow him there.
You kiss him back just as eagerly, your hands roaming over his bare upper body. He feels warm and solid beneath your palms, soft skin over strength that makes your head feel light. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, slow and consuming, until you’re dizzy from it, until the room feels like it’s tilting.
When his hand drifts toward the opening of your blouse, a shaky breath slips out of you before you can stop it.
Hyunjin immediately stills, lifting his head to look at you. “You know you can stop me anytime, right?”
You shake your head quickly, flustered. “I—no. I’m just… shy.”
He scoffs playfully. “What, you think I’m hiding abs under here and you’re not?”
You laugh, the sound easing something tight in your chest, and that little moment of humor makes everything feel safer, easier. You lift yourself just enough to undo your blouse, and he helps you ease it off, careful and unhurried. Jeans follow, his first and then yours, movements clumsy but sweet as clothes are kicked aside and forgotten on the floor.
When there’s nothing left between you, reality hits all at once. You sit back against the pillows, arms crossed over yourself, legs tucked in shyly.
Hyunjin tilts his head, smiling. “What are you trying to hide from me?”
“The most un-romantic part of me,” you meekly answer.
He laughs softly before crawling closer anyway. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself.”
He gently moves your hands away, not rushing or forcing, just guiding until you’re lying bare beneath him. Your heart pounds, worry creeping in, all those quiet insecurities whispering at once.
But the way he looks at you… it’s nothing like you feared. His eyes trace you with awe, like he can’t comprehend it, like he can’t believe you’re real. His hands follow, touching you with reverence, slow and indulgent, making you shiver at the tenderness of it. He drags his hand from the base of your throat down the valley of your breasts, he rests his hand for a brief moment there on the ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of it with every breathe you take.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, and the words sink deep, settling somewhere warm inside you.
His lips replace his hands, kisses pressed to your collarbone, under your breast, your navel, your hip. Each kiss is unhurried, lingering and each one making you more breathless than the last. You gasp softly as he moves lower, taking his time, clearly enjoying every reaction he pulls from you.
Hyunjin knows where you want him the most, but he doesn't give it to you. Not yet. With a smirk, he pulls away, knees propped against the bed. A hand reaches for your leg and lifts it, there isn’t slightest of hesitation as he presses a kiss to your ankle.
From there, he continues to make a trail of kisses down your leg until he's there, head hanging between your leg. He looks at you, making you wait in anticipation for what he’s going to do next.
You feel faint from how much you’ve been holding your breath and when his mouth finally makes contact with your cunt, a breathless gasp spilled out of your parted mouth.
Hyunjin begins by landing kitten licks between your folds, making you wetter than you already are. His tongue darting out, the hot and slick of it pressing on your clit before it moves in slow, circular motions.
You’re squirming under him, your hips lifted off the bed, seeking pleasure of his hot mouth on you, but the hand resting on your stomach, firmly holding you down, not letting you go.
When he finally looks up at you, lips flushed, eyes dark and playful, the heat of his attention alone is enough to make you squirm. He doesn’t waste another second but to dive back in, giving you more of those delicious curls of his tongue on your clit, between your folds, around the entrance. He plants his mouth on your clit, sucking at it in such gentleness and intention and it feels overwhelming, dizzying.
Your moans slip out before you can stop them and hurriedly press your lips together, aware that Archie is sleeping in the next room. You clamp a hand over your mouth, body tensing even though every nerve is screaming otherwise.
Saying Hyunjin’s name feels like dragging it out of your lungs, broken and whispered, and you tug at his hair in a desperate attempt to get his attention.
“Hyunjin…”
He doesn’t hear it at first. Or maybe he does, but he’s far too focused, far too intent on pleasing you with his mouth like he’s forgotten the rest of the world exists. You’re helpless beneath him, caught between wanting him to stop and wanting him never to.
Your pleas dissolve into soft, ruined sounds, and you can’t even tell anymore what you’re asking for. Then everything inside you coiling, winding, overwhelming and when it finally breaks, you bite down hard on your lip, eyes squeezing shut as you fall apart in silence, every sensation crashing over you at once.
Hyunjin slows and then pulls back. He watches you with a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as you ride out the last of your orgasm, breath shaking, chest rising and falling.
Before you can even gather yourself, he’s above you again, one hand braced beside your head as he leans down and captures your mouth in a deep kiss, letting you have a taste of you lingering on his tongue and lips.
The two of you stay like that for a moment longer, just kissing with your body still humming as you drift down from the edge you’d just tipped over. Hyunjin’s mouth stays soft on yours, but there’s an unmistakable pull beneath it, a promise you both feel building again with every breath you share. There’s no denying that you’re both ready for what’s next.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. “Give me a second, yeah?”
You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he shifts to the side. You watch him open the bedside drawer and there, next to his box of condoms is your book.
You laugh softly when you see it and reach for it before he can stop you, holding it up with a grin. “So you didn’t lie, huh?”
He doesn’t even deny it, just shrugs, a little sheepish, a little smug. You flip it open and spot the bookmarked part of the story. “Oh, you’re in the juicy part.”
“And I think,” he says, holding a condom in his hand now, voice teasing but steady, “we should catch up to it.”
You tuck the book away, suddenly shy all over again, and watch him with a kind of breathless awe as he takes his time, tearing through the foil packet and then carefully rolls the rubber down his stiff member.
When he looks up and catches you staring at his hard length, you don’t even bother pretending.
“I don’t think—” you start, then stop yourself, laughing softly. “It’s… big.”
His smile is easy, reassuring. “We’ll make it fit.”
The way he says it sends a shiver straight through you—half terrifying, half thrilling. You barely have time to react before he’s back with you, laughter and warmth knocking the air from your lungs as you both sink into the mattress again.
When he looks at you, his expression turns serious, tender. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, okay?”
You nod, and he takes his time—kissing you, touching you, grounding you—until your body softens, relaxes, opens to him without fear.
When Hyunjin finally settles between your legs, everything slows even more. He’s using his long, slender fingers to tease until you’re wet, drenched and only then, he begins using the tip of his cock to smear your essence all over your entrance. When he deems you're ready to take him, he aligns his cock and begins pushing into you.
The stretch, the sheer size of him, the sudden fullness — it’s overwhelming, not painful, just surprising. You cling to his shoulders, breathing through it, and he pauses immediately.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
You nod, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Just—wow.”
“Should I continue?”
“Definitely, yes,” you eagerly answer.
Hyunjin slowly pushing the remaining length with utter cautiousness and care. A breath caught in your throat the moment he’s fully buried inside you and your hands clawing at his shoulders, needing time to adjust to him and so does he.
Hyunjin presses his forehead with yours, just existing, processing that you're both connected to one another now and when he opens his eyes, they found yours instantly. He smiles a soft smile and says, "Let's take it slow, mmh?"
You nod, agreeing to it with a long kiss on his lips. For a moment, the two of you stay like that, adjusting to each other, just existing in the moment.
When he finally moves, it’s slow, agonizingly slow as if he wants you to feel everything.
And you do. The closeness. The heat. The way his lips keep finding yours, as if he can’t help it. It feels so deeply intimate that you're shivering all over.
A sound slips out of you before you can stop it, and his eyes darken with amusement. “I like hearing your beautiful moans,” he murmurs against your lips. “But if you get too loud, Archie’s going to hear.”
You barely have the presence of mind to be embarrassed. “But it— it feels too good,” you admit breathlessly.
His smile is pure trouble. One hand cups your jaw. “Then I’ll just have to keep kissing you.”
He does exactly that, mouth never leaving yours as his movements grow surer, deeper, more confident. But the moans keep slipping out of your mouth in between kisses anyway as Hyunjin is rocking his hips in this fluid motions, his cock nudging you right in the spot.
You lose yourself in it—cling to him, wrap yourself around him, let the sensations take over until everything else fades.
“Hyunjin, I’m close,” your voice breaking against his lips
He smiles against your lips. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Then his hand reaches yours, slipping his fingers in the gaps and interlaced it together. He pins your interlocked hands next to your head as he adds more intensity and speed to his thrusts.
Soon, your moans turn into whimpers and cries against his lips but that seems to drive him further as he continues moving and taking you closer to your high. You cling to him, your legs wrapped tightly around him, not letting him go.
When the high finally crashes, you fall together. It’s messy, breathless, overwhelming. You shatter first, and he follows right after, holding you so tightly it feels like he’s afraid to let go.
When it’s over, you’re still tangled together, fingers laced, foreheads touching, hearts racing in the same uneven rhythm.
You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. For now, it’s enough to stay exactly like this.
-
The room quiet except for the soft rhythm of his breathing as Hyunjin lies close to you.
Hyunjin is already half-gone, sleep pulling him under with that unfair ease of his. His arm is draped around you like it belongs there, heavy and warm across your waist, his fingers curled loosely at your side. Every so often, he shifts closer in his sleep, instinctive, like he’s making sure you haven’t disappeared.
You’re too aware of everything—of the way his chest rises beneath your cheek, of how his face softens completely when he sleeps, lashes resting against skin that still holds a trace of warmth. He looks different like this. Younger. Gentler. Less guarded. Real.
You trace nothing, touch nothing, just watch and quietly imprinting it in the back of your head.
Your body is tired in the best way, pleasantly sore, deeply comfortable, but your mind won’t slow down. It keeps replaying moments—the way he looked at you, the way he asked instead of assumed, the way he held you afterward like this was exactly where you were meant to be.
Romance.
The word doesn’t feel stupid right now.
Hyunjin exhales, long and slow, and tightens his arm just a little, pulling you closer in his sleep. Your forehead ends up tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled together without either of you meaning to. Your chest tightens—not with fear this time, but with something fragile and hopeful. You rest your palm lightly against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your hand, and for the first time in a long while, the thought doesn’t scare you.
For so long, you thought romance was something loud. Grand. Scripted. Something you had to chase or imagine into existence. Maybe you’ve found it.
And maybe, this time, it’s not something you made up.
-
You wake up slow, heavy-limbed, wrapped in warmth that doesn’t quite register at first.
The ceiling isn’t yours. That’s the first thing that feels off. The light is different too—softer, slipping in through unfamiliar curtains, painting the room in pale gold. You blink, disoriented, heart giving a small, confused jump before reality comes rushing back all at once.
Hyunjin. Last night. Everything.
A smile blooms on your lips before you can stop it, small and private and a little stunned. It lingers until you shift and feel cool sheets beside you. His side of the bed is empty.
Your chest tightens just a little as you turn, half-expecting the room to be empty, half-dreading the ridiculous thoughts that try to creep in, but then you see him.
Hyunjin stands by the wardrobe with his back to you, rummaging through hangers like this is the most normal morning in the world. He’s wearing only his jeans, hair still messy from sleep, sunlight spilling over his bare upper body like it’s intentional—like the universe is showing off.
You stay quiet as you don’t want to break this moment, eyes admiring the muscles on his back as he grabs a T-shirt, biceps flexing as he slips it on.
Then he turns and catches you watching. He doesn’t tease you. He just smiles. He crosses the room and climbs back onto the bed, moving carefully, like he’s aware you’re still half-dreaming.
You instinctively pull the duvet up to cover half your face, suddenly shy in that dazed, just-woke-up way, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.
He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”
You don’t answer. You just stare at him, eyes wide, still trying to reconcile this version of reality with the one you had yesterday.
He chuckles quietly. “Still weird?”
You nod.
He tilts his head. “Weird because it doesn’t feel weird?”
Another nod.
His fingers brush your hair back gently, but instead of stopping there, his lips trail to your bare shoulder. A kiss. Then your neck. Your jaw. Slow. Warm. When he finally kisses your lips, it’s brief and sweet, like punctuation instead of a question.
He pulls back just enough to look at you. “I’ll give you time to process,” he says softly. “When you’re ready, come out. I’ll make breakfast.”
You nod again, the words still stuck somewhere in your chest.
Hyunjin presses one last quick peck to your lips, flashes you a smile that feels dangerously domestic, and slips out of the room.
The second the door clicks shut, you fall back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling, hands flying to your face as a muffled squeal escapes you. This is your life now and it’s real.
After a while, you decide you can’t stay buried in the bed forever, no matter how tempting it is. Reality has caught up to you whether you’re ready or not—so you sit up, rub at your face, and shuffle straight into the bathroom to fix whatever crime sleep has committed on your appearance.
You splash water on your face. Tie your hair. Stare at your reflection a little too long.
And then a very silly, very romantic thought slips in.
You step back into Hyunjin’s bedroom and drift toward his wardrobe. It’s annoyingly neat, everything folded and hung with care. You tug on a pair of his pajama pants that are much too long on you, the fabric pooling at your ankles, then a soft sweater that smells faintly like coffee and him.
You pad out of the bedroom slowly, still half-processing everything, when a door creaks open to your left.
Archie with his hair is sticking up in every direction, eyes half-lidded as he rubs at them with tiny fists. He looks at you and you look at him. There’s a beat of silence where your heart politely panics.
Recognition dawns and his face breaks into a sleepy smile. “Oh. It’s you.”
He doesn’t question why you’re there, doesn’t question the clothes. In his mind, you’re just… you. A friend. Someone safe. Someone who belongs.
He reaches out and grabs your hand with surprising determination. “Come on,” he says, voice thick with sleep. “Let’s have daddy cook waffles.”
Before you can even respond, he’s already tugging you down the hallway, calling out, “Daddyyy!” like it’s the most important announcement of the morning.
The kitchen smells like coffee when you arrive. Hyunjin is by the counter, grinding coffee beans, sleeves pushed up, hair still soft and messy. He looks up at the sound of Archie’s feet stomping against the wooden floor and when he sees Archie dragging you along by the hand, something in his expression melts instantly.
“Morning, beautiful boy,” he says, warm and gentle.
Archie lets go of you only to climb straight into Hyunjin’s arms. Hyunjin lifts him without effort, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Did you sleep well?”
Archie mumbles something about sharks or jellyfish or some hybrid creature only his dreams can invent, probably mixing it up with the memories from yesterday’s aquarium trip and you smile to yourself, watching the way Hyunjin listens like it all makes perfect sense. Then his gaze shifts to you.
“How about you?” he asks, playful. “Did you sleep well?”
You lean against the counter, sweater sleeves hiding your hands, and smile back at him. “The best sleep I’ve ever had.”
Hyunjin’s lips twitch, like he’s trying very hard not to react too much.
Archie, meanwhile, has already moved on to his next priority. “Waffles,” he announces firmly.
“Yes, waffles,” you echo, immediately siding with him.
Archie grins and turns his full puppy eyes on his dad. You do the same, dramatically clasping your hands together like this is a life-or-death negotiation. “Please…”
Hyunjin looks between the two of you, utterly outnumbered. “…I was going to make toast,” he starts.
“Nooo,” Archie whines.
“Please,” you add, not even pretending to be subtle.
He sighs, defeated, but smiling. “Fine. Waffles.”
“Yay!” You and Archie cheer in unison.
As Hyunjin moves around the kitchen, pulling ingredients, brewing coffee, slipping seamlessly into this routine, you realize something quietly, deeply terrifying—
This doesn’t feel new. It feels like something you’ve been doing for a long time already and God, it feels romantic.
-
The morning is warm with the promise of spring that will arrive soon. Archie’s small hand fits in yours as you walk him to kindergarten. He’s chatty as usual, talking about his funny classmate and the pet fish in his class and how his dad promised his favorite food for dinner later, and you listen, smiling, nodding, feeling strangely at home beside him.
Arrived at the gate of his kindergarten, you kneel to straighten his jacket and he hugs you without hesitation.
“Have the best day ever, okay?” you say when you pull away, patting his cheek gently.
He eagerly nods and raises his hand for a wave. “Buh-bye,” he says with his whisker-dimpled smile before disappearing inside with his teacher following closely behind him.
You walk back alone, heart light. You pull your phone out and compose a text: Mini Hyunjin is safely at school.
When you step into your apartment, your phone buzzes with his reply: Big Hyunjin is baking your treats.
You smile at the screen, something fond settling in your chest: Big??!!!
Hyunjin’s reply comes in an instant: You said it yourself. Remember?
Your mouth hangs open but nothing comes out. Just a quiet shock. You used to be scared of this, of this change, afraid that everything else will change as well. But nothing feels rushed. Nothing feels different in a way that’s scary. He’s still the next-door neighbor who own a coffee shop. You’re still the writer with deadlines and empty coffee cups. Archie still needs to be walked to school. Coffee still tastes the same. Yet everything feels new and more… romantic.
You grab your laptop and just as you’re about to start typing, a knock echoes through the space. You freeze for half a second and then walk to the door. When you open it, you’re genuinely caught off guard.
Han stands there, coffee tray balanced in one hand, a paper bag of pastries in the other. He smiles when he sees you, easy and familiar, like he’s always belonged in your doorway.
“Hey,” he says. “I brought coffee.”
You blink once. Twice. Then you step aside, opening the door wider.
“Oh—yeah. Come in.”
A moment later, the two of you are in the living room, coffee cups warming your hands, pastries spread out on the table. There’s a little bit of everything in the bag.
“I couldn’t remember what you got me that day,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “So I just… panicked and bought all of them.”
You laugh. “That explains a lot.”
After a while, you add, “but I appreciate it.”
It goes quiet for a moment until Han clears his throat. “Haven’t seen you much lately,” he says. “Figured you were either busy writing or… avoiding me.”
You shake your head quickly. “Just busy. Writing.”
He nods, accepting that easily. Silence settles again and then he exhales. “Can I ask you something?”
You look at him and nod.
“That night,” he says carefully. “Did I do something? Or say something that annoyed you?”
This only proves that you always know that Han is a decent person and you didn’t made up that part of him. You hesitate, then shake your head. “No. It’s not about that. You’re fine—everything’s fine.”
You pause, fingers tightening slightly around your cup. “If anything, it’s me. Not you.”
Han nods like he understands, like he really does. Then he grins.
“Or you can be honest and say that it’s my lame band.”
You laugh despite yourself. “No.”
He narrows his eyes at you as he says, “I can tell that you hated the band.”
“I didn’t hate it,” you correct honestly. “It’s just… not really my cup of tea. But it’s not lame.”
He hums, considering. “That’s good to hear.”
The conversation flows easier after that, lighter. He asks about your book, and you tell him you’re still working on it.
“Do I get a copy when it’s done?” he asks.
You smile. “Do you even read romance books?”
He shrugs. “What, you think a guy in a band can’t enjoy romance?”
You shrug back. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
The two of you laugh, and for the first time in days, the tension in your chest loosens. When Han eventually leaves, coffee cups empty and pastries half-gone, you realize you’re smiling, not because of what could’ve been, but because things ended exactly the way they should’ve.
-
You’re writing at Hyunjin’s coffee shop again like always and time slipping through your fingers without asking permission. Words come easily today, sentences stacking gently on top of each other.
You only realize how long it’s been when you lift your cup and find it empty. Before you can even sigh about it, a fresh one appears in front of you. You look up and find Hyunjin standing next to you, already smiling.
“Thanks,” you murmur, fingers curling around the warm ceramic.
He doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in just enough that his voice drops, conspiratorial and soft. “Someone wants me to say this to you.”
You glance up at him through your lashes, already amused. “Yeah?”
“He says you’re beautiful,” Hyunjin continues, eyes bright, “and he wants to know if you’d like to have dinner with him and his very charming five-year-old son.”
Your smile blooms because you know exactly who that someone is, but you decide to play along. You lean in too, whispering back, “Tell him he shouldn’t flirt with his regular.”
Hyunjin’s smile turns smug. He leans even closer, close enough that only you can hear him. “Perks of being the owner.”
Before you can reply, he steals a kiss, almost sneaky. His plush lips brushing over yours and you kiss him back just as instinctively. When you pull away, you’re both smiling.
He straightens, gentle fingers squeezing your shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to it,” he says, already halfway gone, slipping back into the back of the counter.
You take a sip of coffee, warmth spreading through you, and turn back to your laptop. That’s when you hear the soft whispers from the table nearby. Girls giggling, voices hushed but not enough.
“I’m so jealous of them,” one says.
“They’re so cute,” another sighs.
You pretend not to hear it and smile to yourself. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a second longer than necessary as something settles in your chest.
This. Writing romance in the afternoon light. Sitting in a café that smells like coffee and home. A man who refills your cup before you ask. A child who holds your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Stolen kisses. Laughter, routine, warmth.
Then you look out of the window and at the city bathed in sunlight, the blue sky with cotton candy-like clouds, a bicycler who pets the dog that sits inside the front basket as he waits for the traffic light to turn green, a young girl sitting on the bench with headphones on, completely immersed in the book she’s reading, an elderly couple who hold hands as they argue over the restaurant menu.
You smile to yourself as you look back at your laptop and start typing again.
Hyunjin was right.
Everything is romantic.
-
Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!
i don’t remember the last time i read skz fic. but this just made my heart freaking explode. so cute and soft, i loved the subtle tension. i appreciate that there wasn’t anything crazily messy between reader and han. i love mess, but this made my heart soft and its was necessary for my morning lol. thank u for writing this!!!!
